“Who?”
“The really rich guy who made all his cash in textiles and then in software? The one who has been quoted off and on for saying politically incorrect things?”
“Yeah?” Gem’s ears perked up. “He’s a real asshole. Gay basher and misogynist.”
“I think he was also a racist pig.”
“Was?”
“Yes. Chad Wentworth isn’t the only one who took the easy way out last night,” Linda said.
“Oh my God. Johnson, too?” Gem replied.
“Yes.”
“Whoa. That will be a big story. Wonder which one will be bigger?”
“You tell me, reporter lady. Coffee next week?” Linda asked.
“You got it. I’ll call you.”
Gem hung up the phone and raced back to her office, lunch half eaten. If she didn’t know better, there was definitely a scandal brewing. Wentworth. Johnson. Both racists. Both with money and connections. If Gem could find the common denominator linking the two of them together, a big story was only the beginning.
Huge story.
Big time.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jake’s funeral was everything Kelly expected it to be: a depressing and horrible experience, reminding her of her mother’s service when she was only seven.
She shifted her dark sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. Eric stood on one side of her, Dr. Jessop on the other. She’d asked Simmons to stand away from the mourners a bit, as she didn’t want anyone to know she was being shadowed by the police.
Kelly couldn’t help glance at Jake’s daughter who stood in the front row with her mother. From Kelly’s vantage point, there wasn’t a lot of love lost between mother and daughter. Tears streamed down the girl’s delicate, pale face and her mother didn’t put an arm around her, didn’t grab the girl’s hand—nothing. Susan Hamilton’s face was stone cold behind her oversized sunglasses. It made Kelly wonder if the ex-Mrs. Hamilton killed Jake.
As the priest gave a quick eulogy, Kelly brushed away tears. Eric squeezed her hand. He leaned over and whispered, “No wonder Jake divorced her.”
Kelly nodded.
Once the service was finished and the mourners began dispersing, Kelly found herself drawn to Jake’s daughter. Without giving it much thought, she headed over to her. The teenager had long, blonde hair and intense blue eyes.
“Bethany?”
“Yes?” the girl replied, her voice barely audible.
“My name is Kelly Morales. I was a colleague and friend of your dad’s.” Bethany stared at her. “He was a wonderful man and he loved you dearly. I am so sorry for what happened. I know he will always be looking out for you.”
“Thank you.” Bethany tried to muster a smile, but instead the tears pooled in her eyes again. Kelly wondered if she shouldn’t have said anything to her.
“Excuse me, but we really need to be going,” Mrs. Hamilton interrupted. She looked at Kelly with obvious distaste and distrust.
Kelly watched them leave and had the nagging feeling Mrs. Hamilton was not totally on the up-and-up. But she pushed it out of her mind because right now, all she really wanted to do was mourn her friend—a good man who had tragically lost his life all too soon.
She walked back to the gravesite and picked up one of the white roses placed in a bucket of water. She took the rose and set it gently on Jake’s coffin. “I promise you whoever did this will pay for it,” she whispered.
She stood and turned around, nearly bumping into the man behind her. “Oh, excuse me,” she said.
“No problem,” he replied.
Kelly walked off toward Simmons who stood leaning against an old oak. There was something weird about the guy she’d run into. She knew she’d seen him before, but couldn’t place exactly where. She figured it had to be at the hospital. She turned around, feeling his eyes on her back. There he was. He smiled at her and then turned away and placed a rose on the casket. Unsettling. She was being paranoid. That was all. It was the day, the turmoil, the sadness—all of it. And the fact that whoever had murdered her friend was still out there.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mark was flying high. Sure, last night had been rough. Killing Chad had not been easy. Yeah, he hadn’t really pulled the trigger and had watched the poor SOB do it to himself. But that was all okay, because he was moving up the ranks now.
After killing Chad, he, Connor, and Thomas had gone to some guy’s yacht. His last name was Johnson and all Mark learned was he was one of the power players. They played out the same basic scenario as with Chad only this time, they forced their victim to hang himself. It was brutal and ugly and yet in some deviant way, Mark realized he’d enjoyed every second of it.
Smug and feeling pretty damn good, he’d taken a chance and had gone to Hamilton’s funeral where he’d seen his lady love. Oh so sad.
Leaving the service, he got a call on his cell from Thomas. “Hey brother, looks like it really is your lucky day. You have a meeting to go to. Here is the address. Be there in an hour. Give the guard your name and you can go on in.”
An hour later, Mark found himself in the foyer of an amazing estate waiting for whoever he was supposed to be waiting for.
Nerves knotted his stomach.
After a few minutes a good-looking guy came through a set of double doors to the left. He was tall, blonde, tan, fiftiesh, what could only be called distinguished. Mark stood. He was happy he had on his only suit. The man reached out his hand. “Mark Pritchett. Nice to meet you. I am Peter Redding.”
Mark was speechless. He had hoped. He had thought maybe he would be meet Redding. Not many people knew who he was. But Mark knew. He’d been close enough to Chad to know. He sputtered, “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Follow me, Mark.” Mark did and Redding offered him a drink, which he eagerly accepted.
Now this was more like it. This is exactly what he had been waiting and hoping for.
“I understand you did a good job aiding a couple of other soldiers last night.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Redding nodded. “I know it was not an easy task. Many times in the line of duty we will have to do things that are, simply put, not easy. But you did it, and you did well. I heard from Chad you had been doing a good job for us. What with surveillance on the doctors and reporting in about Dr. Hamilton.” Redding took a sip of his drink and tskd, tskd. “Weak and dumb on his part. Which leads me to Dr. Morales. Kelly Morales. I know you had been reporting to Chad on her comings and goings and, well, with his unfortunate demise, we need to replace him. You will now report directly to me.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” Mark took a deep gulp of his drink.
“Now that we have put the old business to bed, what can you tell me about the good doctor?” Redding pulled a photo of Dr. Morales out of his desk. “Pretty thing. Too bad she’s a Latina. Isn’t that the politically correct term?” He laughed. “Tell me about her. What does she know?”
Mark tried to keep himself from showing any nerves. “You know, sir, there’s not much to tell. I mean, she doesn’t know anything, really. It’s more what she suspects. Or what I think she might suspect.”
“Go on.”
“I’m only theorizing.” He was going to do his best to impress this man. “However, the cops are now shadowing her every move. She seems to be watching her back a lot. She’s asked questions and caused some anxiety. You obviously heard the conversation Hamilton had with her, the one that got him iced. I think she’s smart and afraid.”
Redding leaned back in his leather chair.
“You know what I think?”
“Sir?”
“I think it’s time for me to meet Dr. Morales.” He handed Mark a card. “Bring her to me.”
“You don’t want her dead? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Mark asked.
“Not necessarily. In spite of your recent…work…I don’t care much for murder. It attracts the police. Dr. Hamilton’s situation needed to be handled quickly, so the
steps we took with him were unfortunate but also necessary. And, the other deaths, well, those were a necessity. But this Dr. Morales may actually be useful to us. Call this number when you have her and I will give you instructions. But don’t hurt her.” He shook his head.
“I, uh, wow, sir. I don’t know if it’s possible. She’s got security twenty-four-seven.”
Redding sighed heavily. “Mark, you witnessed first-hand what happens to people who can’t get jobs done correctly. Correct?”
“I did, sir.”
“Good. Then you will figure out how to bring Dr. Morales to me.” He smiled. “Quickly. And I suggest you not screw it up.”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Oh and you no longer work at the hospital. You have just been promoted.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Redding stood and walked around his desk. He put his arm around Mark. “You’re welcome. Now go get our girl.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Ryan wished he hadn’t told his wife to ditch her cell phone. Yes it had been for her safety but now he had no way of knowing where she was and if she and the girls were safe. He knew his wife well. Jeanine did not always like being told what to do and she had now had some real time to think about things and what they might be up against. What if she hadn’t listened to him and gone straight to their cabin to wait for him? He’d wanted to get his family out of the country first. Give them a head start. Now, Ryan realized what a selfish bastard he truly was. Sending his wife and kids on this mission had been cowardly. But he hadn’t known any other way at the time. In fact, he still didn’t. If he had abruptly left Frauen, Redding and his freaks would have definitely gone after his family. At least this way, they had a chance.
Ryan knew his wife was resourceful. She was also brave, funny, and sweet. As he tried to close his eyes and sleep, he could hear the jarring street sounds from below. His thoughts went back to Georgia Michaels and the chance encounter he’d had with her three years earlier.
He’d liked Georgia. When The Brotherhood employed him, after scaring him to death and blackmailing him, they decided to wine and dine him.
They flew him from New Jersey to Los Angeles where he was introduced to Chad Wentworth. The last name hadn’t meant much to him then. He certainly hadn’t connected Chad with the senator at the time. Wentworth took him to a fancy restaurant, offered to buy him expensive hookers, which he’d had zero interest in, and handed him oodles of cash. He knew all of it came with a price and he was being watched—always.
He met Ms. Michaels briefly. Chad asked his driver to swing by his condo. He’d forgotten something—something that turned out to be a Rolex for Ryan.
While Chad was inside, Ryan rolled down the limo window, badly in need of air. A petite blonde woman approached the car. “Hey, can you ask the driver to move? I need to get my car out and you’re in the way.”
“Sure. No problem,” Ryan replied. The woman stuck her head in the window. “Sorry. I’m a reporter for the L.A. Times. Just thought I’d see if there was someone important or famous in the car. It’s my job.” She winked. “So?”
“So what?” Ryan asked.
“You important or famous?”
“Nope. Just a chemist.”
“Ah. Right.” She stuck her hand through the window. “Georgia Michaels. Gem for short. “A chemist, huh? Cool. What’s your name?”
“Dr. Horner. Ryan.”
“You work on anything interesting, Ryan? Like, I don’t know, genetics, cures for cancer? Something I could write a good story about? I am always looking for a decent scoop.”
Of course he couldn’t tell her the truth. “No. I don’t do anything very interesting at all.”
“Well, if you ever have something to share, here’s my card. Call me or shoot me an e-mail. I never forget a name or a face. I’m into details. Have a good evening!” She handed him her card, flashed him a smile, and waved good-bye.
After that brief meeting, Ryan decided to see what types of stories she typically wrote. He was shocked to see she’d been the lead reporter on The Petersen murders for The Times. Eventually he decided to reach out to her. For some reason, he felt if anyone could help, it would be Georgia Michaels.
As he closed his eyes, he prayed Jeanine had already spoken to the journalist and she’d begun to put two and two together. Maybe if he made it to the States, the story would be out and Peter Redding would be in jail, along with his cronies. Maybe.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“Let me get this straight,” Melanie said. She took a sip of the Chardonnay she’d just poured for herself and Jeanine. She read Ryan’s note again and looked up at her old friend. The twins were playing in the family room, while the women sat in the kitchen drinking wine. Melanie’s nine-month-old son was upstairs, sleeping. “You two were at this party and Ryan was getting bombed, or so you thought…”
Jeanine nodded.
“Then he handed this to you?”
“No, he took me outside and handed it to me.”
“Holy shit.” Melanie drank some more wine.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, honey, either your husband has gone completely bonkers, which I have not ruled out, and neither should you…” She pointed a manicured finger at her, “Or something horrible has happened to him, or could happen to the family. That’s why he told you to leave.”
“Yes,” Jeanine replied softly and brought the wine glass up to her lips. She could see her friend was trying to register all of this, just as she had been doing for the past two days. “I know it sounds crazy. I do. That’s why I came here. After leaving Germany, going to Paris, cutting the girls’ hair, my hair, doing all of this crazy stuff, I started thinking maybe Ryan has been losing it.” She shrugged.
“I’d say.”
“But, you should have seen his eyes, Melanie. He was so scared and, I don’t know, but I really believed him.”
“What about this journalist, Gem Michaels? Do you know how he knows her or what the story is there?”
“No. Just that I was supposed to get a hold of her. I called the paper and left her a message.”
“What did you say?”
“That I was married to Ryan Horner and it was urgent I speak with her. I left her my cell number, but as I told you, Ryan said I was supposed to get rid of the cell. I don’t know. I have no idea what to think. I mean, how am I supposed to communicate with anyone, if I get rid of the cell phone? Say we are in some kind of trouble, wouldn’t that have all been left behind when I left Europe? I started thinking maybe that’s why he sent me so far away.”
“I don’t know. I think you should call the police,” Melanie said.
“And tell them what? My husband has sent me on a wild goose chase from Germany to New Jersey, and I am supposed to contact some journalist in LA., and tell her to look into my husband’s company that he works for?”
Melanie raised her eyebrows. “You have a point. Look, maybe all you need is a good dinner, some more wine, and sleep. In the morning, try and give Ryan a call and demand to know what in the hell is going on.”
Jeanine sighed. Maybe Melanie was right. The further away she got from Ryan and Germany, the less and less any of this made sense.
“Robert won’t be home until late tonight. He’s taking some clients out for dinner. Maybe we should go out ourselves.”
“Oh, I don’t know. What about the kids?”
Melanie waved a hand. “Bring them. Oliver is a good baby and he should be up soon.”
“I don’t know if I can say the same for the twins.”
“Don’t worry about it. We can go over to our tennis club. They have decent food and a play area.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now come on. Something tells me you need to do something to feel normal.”
Jeanine agreed.
Two hours later, the friends were full, a little buzzed, and Jeanine was pretty convinced her husband had gone off his rocker, which bothered her even more than the idea
that they were in some kind of trouble.
“Hey, would you drive home? I think I had too much of that sangria,” Melanie said.
“Sure.” Jeanine had noticed her friend drinking more glasses than normal. Likely it had to do with the bizarre story.
As they got closer to the house, the twins started whining about not getting dessert. “Girls, that’s enough,” Jeanine said.
“Oh, hon, let’s take them to Cold Stone, it’s only a few blocks from my place. I don’t ever get to see you guys, let me spoil them. I have some coupons on the fridge. Swing by the house and I’ll grab them.”
“Please, Mommy,” Chloe called from the back seat.
“Sure. Yes. Let’s go have ice cream!”
A few minutes later Jeanine pulled up in front of Melanie’s house. “I’ll be right back.” Jeanine watched her go inside the house and waited a few minutes. Melanie had to have gone to the restroom. It was taking her too long. She caught a glimpse of something in her rear view mirror—a man was walking toward the car with a strong sense of purpose, one of his hands in his jacket pocket. She glanced back to the house and knew immediately she was in trouble. Melanie opened the front door and collapsed, blood staining the front of her blouse. Another man ran out of the house and towards the car.
Jeanine punched it, tires squealing, as gun fire sprayed the side and back of the vehicle.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Kelly napped after the funeral. She was wiped out. When she woke, the first thing to hit her was the amazing smell of garlic bread and something else. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was already past six o’clock. What in the world? Then it donned on her Tony must have taken over the patrol for the night, and was making dinner. She couldn’t help but smile. Then felt silly for doing so. She rolled out of bed and looked at herself in the dresser mirror. The stress wasn’t wearing well. When this was all over, she was going to load her horse into the trailer, make the long drive home, and spend two weeks in the Kentucky blue grass—get back to her roots. She had some vacation time coming. Then a horrid thought hit her, what if this was never over? What if Jake’s killer was never brought to justice and young women kept coming into ER with complications and dying?
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