by Chris Taylor
Max looked down at his desk, feigning embarrassment. “It’s very nice of you to say so, Hannah. You’re not so bad yourself.”
* * *
Bobby heated the ice crystals with a cigarette lighter and then filled the needle with the clear liquid gold. With the belt tourniquet tight around his upper arm, he skilfully found a vein. It was wrong, so wrong and he knew better than to let his life spiral once again out of control, but he wasn’t strong where it counted and couldn’t seem to help himself.
Everywhere he looked he was a fuck-up. In jail, he’d become a punching bag for other people’s battles. He’d only done it to make friends. It was too bad it hadn’t worked out like that. The only true friend he’d had was Jacob and that had only lasted the two years they’d shared a cell. Jacob had been released and never looked back. Not once had he gotten in contact.
And then, out of the blue, he appeared in Bobby’s workplace—the funeral home, no less. It was unbelievable enough to be called a miracle, and yet Jacob had come across almost aggressive and definitely unfriendly.
Bobby couldn’t understand his former friend’s animosity. What the fuck was he going on about—life insurance policies? Bobby barely knew what a life insurance policy was, let alone owned one. And yet, Jacob had accused him of owning more than one and one of them had involved Jacob’s brother. It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Then again, nothing much over the course of his entire life ever had.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dear Diary,
I look back over my life and it doesn’t take me long to pinpoint where it all went wrong. I was raised a good Christian and I tried so hard to live my life that way. But then, Emory was drowned in the swimming pool and a few years later, Eileen was taken from me, too.
I railed against God, against anyone who would listen and yet, for a long time, I managed to keep my life on track. I built up a successful business. I enjoyed my work, I went to church, I prayed regularly for all the lost souls.
And now I’m just another one of them—another lost and lonely soul.
I tried so hard to live a good life, to be considerate of my fellow man, but over the years, I’ve just plain worn out fighting another part of myself, kept hidden for so long. One day, that part of me came up with a plan. It was time to forget about being good. It was time to get even with God. I was through with playing Christian. The Devil had scored a new soul.
And so, I sold myself to the Devil and I made a tidy sum. Enough for me to sail away and retire in some distant land where the sun shines warm on my face and the sand is crystal white. I’ll leave behind my wife and son in their cold, dark graves and I’ll focus on happier things for the rest of my lonely days…
* * *
Lane adjusted the surgical mask over his nose and mouth and did his best not to breathe in too deeply. Samantha was similarly attired, but seemed not to notice the putrid smell. The winter had brought cooler temperatures, but a couple of months had passed since Christopher Lowrey had been interred. It was plenty long enough for decomposition to have made headway and with it, the accompanying smell. It filled the small autopsy suite.
“What do you think, Sam?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled behind the mask.
Samantha leaned over what remained of Christopher and frowned. “Charles x-rayed the body the first time it arrived in the morgue, but from the notes in the file, I don’t think he paid much attention to the results. The x-rays showed several leg fractures which were consistent with the way Christopher died—falling into the path of a truck would do that, but what I’m interested in seeing is whether there are any wounds that might indicate earlier trauma.”
“And are there?” Lane asked, forcing himself to move a little closer to the gurney.
Samantha straightened and sighed. “Unfortunately, the decomposition’s far too advanced to tell, but I took the time to examine the leg fractures more closely. I’ve done a few calculations and applied a little physics.”
She stared at Lane. His heart skipped a beat at the intensity in her gaze. “What is it? What did you find?”
“It’s my considered opinion that the direction and trajectory of the fractures indicates Christopher Lowrey was pushed from behind with considerable force, straight into the path of the oncoming vehicle.”
Lane stared back at her. His pulse picked up speed. “You’re saying it’s possible he was murdered, like Edward Sutton?”
Samantha held his gaze, steadily. “Yes.”
“No chance it could have been suicide?”
Samantha nodded. “The injuries could also be consistent with suicide—throwing himself in front of the truck would result in similar fractures—but a check of his blood alcohol levels discounts this. Like Sutton, Lowrey had way too much alcohol in his system. So much, that it would have prevented him from standing there and carrying out such an action. He wouldn’t have been able to walk without assistance, let alone throw himself in front of a truck.”
A sense of urgency poured through Lane’s veins. It was midday. Toby was more than likely at work. At the funeral parlor. The same funeral parlor that had employed two men who’d both been murdered in similar circumstances for insurance money and the man who was more than likely responsible was still working there. He had to call Jacob.
Offering Samantha his thanks and a brief good-bye, Lane moved into the adjoining room and pulled off his protective clothing. Tossing them into the trash can, he headed for the exit, tugging his phone out as he went. He dialed his brother’s number, praying that he’d pick up and was relieved when he did.
“Jacob, I’ve just come from the morgue. Samantha Coleridge has done a second autopsy on Christopher Lowery.”
As efficiently as he could, Lane filled his brother in on the results. “It was the perfect crime,” Lane continued. “It happened about four in the morning. The truck driver didn’t see a thing. He didn’t even realize he’d run over the poor bastard.”
“Jesus,” Jacob muttered.
Lane silently agreed. “Where’s Toby?” he asked.
“He’s with Hannah. They’re at work. We thought it was safer to leave him there, around other people.”
“Call him,” Lane urged. “Tell him to stick close to Hannah and call her, too. Impress upon her the importance of keeping Robert Grace away from our brother.”
“I will,” Jacob promised. “Hannah spoke to her boss. Max assured her he’d already reported the matter to the police. They might already have someone else working on this.”
Lane frowned. It was possible an officer stationed elsewhere had already started an investigation based upon Max Grace’s report, but he would have thought he’d have received some kind of notice that a file in the same name had been opened on their system.
“Do you know the name of the officer he reported it to?” he asked.
“No.”
“What about the station?”
“No, I don’t know that, either, but I can find out. I’ll ask Hannah when I speak to her.”
“Don’t stress about it. I’m headed back to the office. Robert Grace’s bank account details checked out. I’m going to bring the boss up to speed and then get authorization to attend upon the funeral home with an arrest warrant. Robert Grace will very soon be removed from the streets of Sydney.”
Jacob sighed in relief. “How long will it take?”
Lane checked his mirror before pulling out into the traffic. “An hour or so,” he replied. “I’ll have to get an arrest team together and set up a plan. We’ll hit the funeral parlor first and if we don’t find him there, we’ll search any other known place of abode. He has enough entries in our system that we should be able to track him down at one of his listed addresses. I’ll let you know when we have him behind bars.”
“Thanks, Lane. I appreciate it. That moment can’t come soon enough.”
“You’re telling me,” Lane replied grimly and stepped on the gas.
* * *
Once again, Jacob rang the
bell outside the Max Grace Funeral Home and waited for someone to answer it. Neither Hannah nor Toby had answered their phones, so he’d decided to drive over and warn them that Lane and his men were on their way. He also wanted to check for himself that Toby was okay. He trusted Hannah to look out for his brother, but it was unreasonable to expect she could watch him all the time, or protect Toby and herself if things turned sour.
The front door remained closed. Jacob frowned and rang the bell again. This time, he heard the sound of footsteps and a moment later, an elderly man with a thick head of white hair and rosy cheeks opened the door. The man’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Jacob.
“You must be Toby’s twin.”
“Yes, I’m Jacob Black. You must be Max Grace.” Jacob stuck out his hand and Max shook it in greeting.
“Nice to meet you. I can see why my nephew was confused. You’re like peas in a pod, until you look a little more closely.”
“Bobby told you about me.” Jacob guessed.
“Yes. He had no idea you had an identical twin. It bugged the life out of him for weeks after he first met your brother. He was sure he’d met him somewhere before. Of course, Toby denied ever knowing him. Bobby was a little more irritable than normal with that. He thought your brother was lying to him and if it’s one thing Bobby can’t tolerate, it’s dishonesty and deceit.”
Jacob stared in disbelief at the man who looked like the sweetest, kindest grandfather a person could ever meet. How could he be so oblivious to his nephew’s failings? It seemed beyond belief. Hannah had told him her boss was a kind and generous man who went out of his way to help the less fortunate. Was that the reason he didn’t see what was right in front of his nose? Jacob wished he could be so non-judgmental and trusting.
“Is Bobby here?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so. I heard him moving about in his office a while ago. Why? Are you here to see him?”
“No, no. Not Bobby. I… I’m here to see Hannah and my brother.”
Max nodded. “They should be in the embalming room. It’s my guess they’re elbow-deep in body fluids. No doubt that’s the reason they didn’t answer the door.”
Jacob tried not to grimace at the picture Max’s words conjured up and followed the man through the doorway and down the hall. With a flourish, Max opened the door to the embalming room and waved Jacob inside.
He spied Hannah and his brother immediately. As Max had guessed, they were both bent over a body, their gloves shiny with liquid.
“Jake!” Toby exclaimed after looking up. “What are you doing here?”
Hannah also looked bemused. Jacob had left for work before Hannah and his brother were awake. With a string of twelve-hour shifts, including two night shifts, they’d barely seen each other. It wasn’t quite like Jacob had envisaged when he’d invited Hannah to move in and he was determined that on his next days off, he’d do all he could to persuade her to spend some time with him. But for now, Toby’s safety was paramount.
Jacob glanced at Max before speaking and then decided to deliver his news anyway. Lane and his men were on their way. It wouldn’t be long before everybody in the funeral parlor became aware of what was going down.
“Hannah, Toby. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Hannah glanced up at him and then returned to her work. It looked like she was suctioning fluid out of the woman who lay stiff and pale gray on the stainless steel gurney.
“It’s about Bobby.”
Something in Jacob’s voice must have snagged Hannah’s attention, or maybe it was the reference to her colleague. She set down her tools and turned to him. “What about Bobby?”
Once again, Jacob glanced at Max who had inched his way into the room. Turning back to Hannah and Toby, he told them.
“Lane’s on his way over to arrest Bobby.”
Toby let out a shout of glee.
Hannah gaped in surprise. “Lane’s on his way over, now?”
Jacob nodded. “The second autopsy, carried out on Christopher Lowrey, proved he was pushed into the path of the oncoming vehicle, like Edward Sutton was pushed down the stairs. Robert Grace owned life insurance policies in the names of both men and he’s named as the sole beneficiary. He’ll be arrested on suspicion of murder and insurance fraud.”
Max made a noise of distress behind him and Jacob turned to face him again. “I’m sorry, Max. This must be awful for you. From what I’ve heard, you did everything you could for The Bobster when he got out of jail and he’s thrown it back in your face. To repay your kindness and generosity by murdering two of your employees… It’s beyond evil.”
Max compressed his lips and Jacob could see he was making an effort to hold back the tears that glinted in his eyes. To Jacob, he suddenly seemed older, frailer, weaker; as if the spark had somehow disappeared. Jacob hardly knew the man and yet, he felt saddened by the sight.
“I never imagined my own flesh and blood could turn on me like that,” Max said, his voice trembling. “I did everything I could for that boy. He didn’t ever know his father. His mother never learned to fend for herself, or her son. He was in and out of jail for years. I offered him a job, a place to stay, a life. And this is how he repays me…”
Jacob shifted his gaze to stare at the floor, helpless against the man’s distress. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hannah step toward her boss, her face full of compassion.
“Is Bobby here?” Hannah asked Max quietly.
“I think so, but I’m not really sure. I saw him earlier, but who knows? He comes and goes as he pleases with little respect for his job.”
Hannah nodded, her lips compressed. The sound of the front doorbell made all of them jump.
“Police! Open up!”
Jacob’s head came up and he stared across to where Max and Hannah stood. “It’s Lane.”
“He’s here to arrest Bobby,” Hannah murmured and Max’s face lost a little more of its color.
Despite his distress, Max squared his shoulders and nodded. “We might as well get it over with.”
With his head held high, Max strode through the doorway of the embalming room. He continued down the short corridor to the entryway and then flung open the front door without pause.
Jacob and Hannah followed him, with Toby not far behind. Lane stared at them in surprise.
“Hi, guys,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to see all of you. Jacob, what are you doing here?”
Before Jacob could form a reply, Lane turned to Max. “Never mind. Are you Maxwell Grace, the owner of these premises?”
Max nodded, his expression somber. “I am.”
“I’m Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black with the State Crime Command. We’re here to arrest your nephew, Robert Grace. Is he here?”
Max shrugged. “I’m not sure. He was here earlier. You’re welcome to look around.”
As if unsure whether to trust Max’s congeniality, Lane’s eyes narrowed, but without another word, he pushed past Max and the others and started searching the funeral parlor, calling out to his men to accompany him.
The search was over almost as quickly as it began. Lane arrived back in the entryway where Jacob and the rest of them had remained.
“He’s not here,” Lane growled, to no one in particular, and then got up close and personal in Max’s space. “Your nephew’s wanted by the police. The next time you see him, I suggest you call me.”
And with a final glare, he left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hannah stacked the last of the plates into the dishwasher and rinsed her hands in the sink. They’d enjoyed an early dinner and were now in the process of cleaning up. Moving past Jacob, she dried her hands on the small towel hanging from a peg near the pantry.
“Thank you for dinner,” she murmured.
Jacob shot her a brief smile. “It’s a nice change to be home in time to share it with you both.”
Hannah nodded, her mind on the fact that now Bobby’s arrest was imminent, there was no need for
Jacob to watch over her and his brother. As soon as Bobby was locked behind bars, the threat would be over. She and Pepper would move out of Jacob’s apartment and her life would go back to the way it was before. Work, an occasional social get together with her friends, and then back to work again.
It wasn’t until she began sharing her home with Toby and then later, moving in with the two brothers, that she realized how lonely it was living on her own. It wasn’t like she had a job where she interacted with any number of people during the day. Apart from her conversations with Max and whatever assistant happened to be around, she worked most of the time in solitude. Just herself and the deceased.
It wasn’t a job for everyone, but it was one that she loved. It was just that it hadn’t felt quite so lonely until recently, after the Black brothers had barged their way back into her life. One Black brother in particular was keeping her awake at night. Knowing he was only a few yards down the hall had wrought havoc on her equilibrium.
“Would you like a coffee, Hannah? Or something stronger?”
The man who had haunted her dreams murmured the question, his eyes warm and curious on her face. Her gaze drifted over his broad shoulders and studied his impressive physique. She remembered how it felt to kiss him and press herself against his strength. Even when they’d kissed in the confines of his pickup, she’d wanted more. And then, she’d come to her senses and realized this was Jacob Black, her nemesis, and that she was luxuriating in the feel of being in his arms.
“Hannah?” he asked again.
Her gaze snapped back to his and she blushed, hoping desperately that he couldn’t read the path of her thoughts.
“Um… I… I think I’ll have a glass of Merlot, if it’s all right with you. I bought a bottle on my way home tonight. After the day’s events, I thought the three of us could do with a drink.” She tried on a smile, but it came out shaky. Thankfully, Jacob didn’t appear to notice. He turned and retrieved two wine glasses from a shelf above her head.
