“What story did he give you?”
Russell motioned toward the file. “Didn’t get that far in your reading?”
I laughed, holstering my gun as I walked over and sat. “If it weren’t for the phone call, I could’ve been in and out with you none the wiser. Normal people take their phones with them to the bedroom.”
“Hate the damn things. You know some say they cause brain cancer.”
“And plenty of other studies have proven they don’t.”
“Why risk it?”
“I’m more likely to die from a bullet, so I’m not concerned. Tell me about your client, Mr. Spencer.” I lifted my beer and took a drink.
“Call me Spence, and I don’t know much. It was easier finding Genevieve than ID my client.”
“Credit card search?”
He shook his head. “Prepaid card registered in Georgia.”
“IP address from the online application?”
“Blocked.”
“What about the phone number?” I asked, nodding toward his phone.
“Burner phone. From his voice, I’d guess he’s in his forties or fifties, no accent but well spoken. Educated. Polished vocabulary.”
“So… you narrowed it down to a middle-aged man who likely went to college? That’s it?”
“Yup.”
“You’re not very good at your job, are you?” I hid my grin behind my beer bottle as I took another drink.
“Is that a challenge?” he asked.
“No. Only an observation.”
He leaned slightly forward, a crooked grin lightening his facial features. “Honey, I’ve got skills that would wet your panties, but this guy is a ghost.”
I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head in annoyance. “You call me honey again, and I’ll break your fingers, one by one. Now what excuse did your client give you when he hired you to find Evie?”
He laughed before taking the last drink of his beer and setting the bottle in the middle of the table. “Said he was trying to find his cousin after a family fallout, but he’s pushing a little too hard just to reconnect with a cousin.” He waved a hand at the files. “I need sleep. Feel free to either join me or stay up reading my case notes.” He stood, his semi-erect penis bouncing at eye level in front of me. “Though,” he said leaning over with one hand braced on the back of my chair as he used the other hand to skate a finger down my neck, “I’m hoping you’ll join me.”
“Not happening,” I said, knocking his hand away.
“Suit yourself,” he said as he strutted his naked ass down the hall and into the dark bedroom.
Chapter Six
CHARLIE
Sunday, 3:46 a.m.
Spence offering to let me read his case notes was appreciated. Though, he never said I had to read everything at his house. I smiled to myself all the way home with the stack of folders and his phone sitting in my passenger seat.
Entering my apartment, I piled the files on my rickety dining room table before returning downstairs to empty my mailbox. Pauly, a homeless man from the neighborhood, was curled up under the stairs with a blanket draped over his head. Knowing he was harmless, I let him be and returned to my apartment. After a quick shower, I changed into yoga pants and a pink Nike t-shirt before settling at the table to read everything thoroughly.
Near sunup, I was about to go to bed when someone knocked on my apartment door. Looking through the peep hole, I saw Uncle Hank standing on the other side, grinning back at me. He was in full uniform. His trainee of the day stood beside him with a confused expression.
I unlocked and opened the door before turning toward the kitchen. “Give me a minute to start a pot of coffee.”
“Let me guess, you haven’t been to bed yet,” Uncle Hank said as he walked in, followed by the rookie.
I dumped the last of the coffee grounds into the basket and poured the water into the reserve. “I went to the club last night and was asked to check into one of the new customers. Turns out, he’s a private investigator—Russell Spencer. You heard of him?”
As the coffee pot started brewing, I joined Uncle Hank at the table. The rookie stood off to the side, nervously glancing back at the still open door.
“Yeah, I’ve run into Spence a few times. Seems like a straight shooter. Why? What’s your beef with him?” Uncle Hank asked as he pulled some photos of Evie from one of the folders and started studying them.
“Now that I know he’s working a case and not stalking Evie—I don’t have a problem with him. Evie’s a bartender at the club. Someone hired Spence to find her, but he’s getting a bad vibe about his anonymous client. He’s leery of telling him where she is.”
“Anonymous, huh? That don’t sound good.”
“Agreed. I have a guy trying to trace the client’s burner phone, but it’s powered off at the moment.”
“Spence always struck me as someone with good instincts. If he’s got a bad vibe about this guy, you better warn this girl. And fast. Rumor has it, Spence is overextended. Eventually he’ll cave for the payday.”
“Gambling, drugs, or child support?” I asked as I walked back into the kitchen to fill coffee cups.
“None of the above. His sister had bone cancer and died last spring. He paid all her bills, including the funeral. He had to sell his house and move to a crappy rental from what I heard.”
“It’s an old house. Needs a lot of work. But I have to admit—” I looked around my apartment “—it’s better than this place.”
Uncle Hank scowled at me. “You went to his house?”
“I popped in for a visit.” I shrugged, setting a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Were you invited? Or did you help yourself?”
I offered a cup to the rookie, but he shook his head and looked back at the apartment door. I sat with the cup, answering the question. “It was sort of a self-service kind of visit, but he caught me when he woke to answer his phone.”
The fact that I was caught seemed to entertain Uncle Hank. His scowl was replaced with a smirk as he drank his coffee.
“So why the visit this morning? Bored?”
“There’s a dead body downstairs. In the lobby. Looks like an overdose.”
My head threw itself back involuntarily. “Pauly? Wearing a green coat?”
“Yeah. The guy’s wearing a green coat. Was he there when you came home?”
“Yes, but I thought he was sleeping.” I looked toward the apartment door, now understanding the rookie’s behavior. “Pauly’s a heroin addict, but non-violent so I don’t throw him out. He sleeps in the lobby one or two nights a week.”
“How well did you know him?” the rookie asked, getting out his pocket notebook. “Do you know his full name?”
Uncle Hank rolled his eyes.
I laughed and walked over to my filing cabinet, pulling a file. “Paul Leenstra, known on the streets as Pauly. Born in 1992. Repeat drug offender, but all misdemeanors. His parents live over in Coral Groves, but they haven’t spoken to him in years. He has two older brothers, both successful.” I handed the file to Uncle Hank, but he passed it to the rookie without looking at it.
“When was the last time you saw him alive?” Uncle Hank asked.
“With all due respect, sir,” the rookie interrupted, “we should be positioned to monitor the body until the coroner’s office arrives.”
Uncle Hank ignored him and waved a hand at me to continue.
“I saw him two days ago,” I said, thinking back. “Oh, shit! He gave me a gun. I can’t believe I forgot.” I walked over to my desk and pulled a paper bag from the bottom drawer.
The rookie pulled his service weapon. “Drop the bag and put your hands in the air!”
“Holster your weapon, Officer Regis,” Uncle Hank ordered.
“She’s armed, sir. I can’t holster my weapon.”
“She’s a cop, idiot! Holster your damn weapon or I’ll have your badge.”
The rookie quickly holstered his weapon, but looked ready to p
ee his pants.
“Knock-knock,” a female voice called from the doorway.
“Hey, Tasha,” I said as I walked back across the room and handed the brown bag to Uncle Hank. “I have fresh coffee. You have time for a cup?”
“Sure. I’ve got a trainee with me this morning, so I’ll let him do all the work.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Uncle Hank said, glaring over at his rookie. “Officer Regis, go monitor the transfer of the body. And if you pull your weapon again, you and I,” he pointed between them, “are going to have a serious problem. Kapeesh?”
“Yes, sir,” Officer Regis said before scurrying out the door.
Tasha Gordon worked at the coroner’s office, where we’d met on several cases. I liked her, which was odd because I didn’t like a lot of people. I filled a cup of coffee in the kitchen and carried it out to her. She and Uncle Hank were inspecting the gun that Pauly had given me.
“This is a decent piece,” Uncle Hank said. “Why’d he give it to you?”
“I’m pretty sure he stole it, but I didn’t ask any questions. He told me he got it for protection but knew it’d be dumb to shoot up heroin while carrying a loaded weapon. He left it with me for safekeeping.”
“For safekeeping? Didn’t he know you’re a cop?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes he’d forget. He’s fried a few brain cells over the years.”
“Why did he need protection?” Tasha asked.
“He wouldn’t say, but he was acting odd. Real skittish, but his speech wasn’t rushed, like it would get when he was high. Also…” I paused, concentrating my thoughts on Pauly.
“Also, what?” Uncle Hank asked.
“This isn’t going to sound logical, but Pauly wasn’t your typical addict. I mean, yes, he was hooked on heroin, but he was scared to death of overdosing. Are you sure he didn’t fall down the stairs and crack his head?”
“Then dragged himself under the stairs?” Tasha asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe one of my neighbors moved him? Not realizing he was dead?”
“You know addicts only pretend to be in control, Kid,” Uncle Hank said, reaching over the table to pat my hand. “He had a needle buried in his arm. I’d bet a twenty that cause of death was an overdose.”
I leaned back in my chair and released a slow breath. “Then you owe me twenty bucks. Pauly shot up between his fingers or his toes.”
“You sure?” Uncle Hank asked.
“Positive. He worked irregular construction and carpentry jobs to pay for his habit. You can’t get hired with track marks covering your arms, and you can’t work construction in Florida wearing long sleeves. Thus, he shot up between his fingers and toes so it would be less noticeable.”
Uncle Hank stood abruptly. “Shit.”
Tasha’s head whipped back toward the door. “Damn it. We left our trainees in charge of a murder case?”
They both rushed through the still open door.
I returned to the kitchen to dig out a new bag of coffee, starting another pot. I had a feeling more cops would be arriving soon.
Chapter Seven
KELSEY
Sunday, 7:02 a.m.
Showered, dressed, hair and make-up in place, I walked down the hall into a deserted dining room. “Where is everyone? It’s Sunday,” I asked Hattie.
“Oh, here and there,” she answered as she set a cup of coffee down for me at the dining room table. “Alex and the girls are at the store, getting everything closed down for the winter break. They shouldn’t be long since it was another sell out day yesterday. The graphic changes Nicholas made on the website were a hit. He’s a natural.” Hattie walked over and filled Pop’s cup as he read his paper at the end of the breakfast bar.
“I saw the website,” I said. “It looked great. I might need to put Nicholas in touch with Diego in Pittsburgh and start him on a career in marketing.”
Pops chuckled from the other side of his paper. “As if you’d get that lucky. Nicholas is in the basement with Bones as we speak, working on his boxing skills.”
“Figures,” I said as I slid a stack of folders aside. “Where’s Sara?”
Hattie sat at the table across from me, sliding another stack of files out of her way. “With Whiskey doing a walk-through of the new houses. Any chance you’re going to move back to the War Room soon?” She motioned at the files on the table.
I looked down the long dining room table, cluttered with papers, pens, files, and laptops. It had been two weeks since I last ventured across the street to Headquarters. In that time, I’d turned our dining room into my personal office, all in the spirit of avoiding Grady. “I don’t want to go back.”
“Chicken,” Pops mumbled, still looking at his paper.
Hattie giggled. “He’s right. You’re being a coward, dear.”
“Are you kicking me out of my own house?”
Hattie tried to hide her grin. “Your files and the mess that comes with it, yes. I want my table back.”
“Why do you care? You’re flying back to Texas tomorrow.”
“Because,” Pops said as he folded the paper and placed it on the countertop, “she needs to know you’ll be all right before she leaves, and the only way to know that for sure, is if you put on your big girl breeches and go face Grady.”
I looked at Hattie and found her grinning down at the table as she sipped her coffee.
“Fine. I’ll go hunt down some boxes and pack everything.”
“I brought boxes,” Bridget said as she juggled three empty boxes through the kitchen door. “Hattie texted me that it was moving day and I came prepared.” She kicked the door closed with her heel before walking over and dropping the boxes at my feet. “Personally, I’m glad you’re coming back to the War Room. It’s too quiet and boring without you and Tech bickering all day.”
Tech was entering through the balcony slider and had heard Bridget. “We still bicker. We just do it over the phone.”
“But I don’t get to hear both sides, so it’s not as much fun for me,” Bridget said as she piled a stack of files into a box.
“Maybe if you worked instead of filing your nails all day, you wouldn’t be so bored,” Tech teased as he grabbed a box and filled it with the laptops and other electronics.
Bridget threw a pen at him.
Tech caught the pen, tossing it in the box he’d just filled. “It’s cold outside. I’ll start your SUV.”
He carried an overflowing box under one arm and left through the garage door. Bridget finished filling the last box, and the dining room table was once again clear.
I sipped my coffee.
“Aren’t you coming?” Bridget asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Kelsey Harrison,” Hattie scolded, taking my cup of coffee from me, “get your butt out of that chair and over to Headquarters.”
I sighed, stood, grabbed the third box, and followed a giggling Bridget out the door.
“There better be coffee in the War Room,” I said before I slid into the back seat and let Tech drive me over.
~*~*~
I didn’t make it to the War Room before Grady spotted me and jogged over to block my path. “Can we talk?”
“Maybe later,” I said, holding the box up. “I’m busy at the moment.”
“Hey, Kelsey,” Wayne said as he walked over. “Let me get that for you.”
Before I could protest, Wayne took the box I was using as an excuse and followed Tech and Bridget up the stairs to the War Room. I sighed, turned around, and started walking back toward the parking lot.
“Come on, Kelsey,” Grady said, stopping me with a hand on my elbow. “It’s been two weeks. Even Nicholas isn’t mad at me anymore.”
“Nicholas is better at getting over his anger than I am,” I said, shrugging. “But there’s one thing we’re both alike in…” I leaned closer, smiling through my anger up at Grady. “We never forget.” I jerked my arm away from him as I stepped away. “My son might not be mad at you, b
ut he no longer trusts you. If he needs advice or comfort, he’ll find someone else–Bones, Donovan, Whiskey–because he knows it’s only a matter of time before you betray us again.” I turned my back to him as I walked toward the exit. “We know who you are now, Grady,” I said over my shoulder. “And there’s no room for your brand of bullshit in our lives.”
I threw the door open and stomped across the lot toward my SUV. My hands shook from the emotions coursing through me. This was why I didn’t want to be here. It didn’t matter what he said or did, he’d betrayed me. Betrayed my son. He could spew his nonsense of protecting us until the cows came home, I wasn’t buying it. He cheated on me with his ex-wife. And worse, he threw away our relationship already knowing what an evil bitch she was.
“I take it that went well,” Donovan said, jogging over from his vehicle to talk to me.
“I shouldn’t have come over here. I’m still too angry.”
“I’m thinking your anger isn’t going to diminish anytime soon.” Donovan playfully nudged my shoulder. “What now? You going to let him drive you away from the work you love? Leave Aces?”
I paced back and forth. “No.” I glanced back at the building. “Maybe. I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at it in frustration. “I just don’t want to be around him right now.”
Donovan shrugged. “We can work with that.” He threw an arm over my shoulder and steered me back into the building.
Grady’s eyes locked on me as we entered.
“New rule,” Donovan said to him. “Stay the hell away from Kelsey so she can work in peace. Until I say otherwise, the second floor is off limits to you.” Donovan shoved me ahead of him as we moved past Grady.
“Now, wait a—”
“Shut up!” Donovan said, spinning to the side and thrusting a finger at Grady’s chest. “Don’t think that because I’m still your friend that I’ve let you off the hook for the shit you pulled! You’re forgetting that Kelsey is part of my family. And if she wants you to leave her alone, then damn it, that’s what you’ll do! Or else, I swear, Grady, I’ll end our partnership. I’ll tear Silver Aces to the ground and rebuild a new company without you.”
Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8) Page 4
