by Jen Talty
“That’s a shitshow to walk into.”
She nodded, holding out the tablet. “The last person we can find that saw Jonathon or his girlfriend was the same grocery clerk that saw you.”
“When?”
“The morning after you beat the shit out of Jonathon.”
“I did no such thing.” He rubbed his jaw, remembering Jonathon’s nasty right hook. “I got two punches in, at best.”
She shook her head. “Here’s the interesting part.” She used her thumb and forefinger to enlarge the image on the screen. “Look here.”
Holding the tablet, his hands trembled. “That’s Declan’s gas can.”
“And that’s Ronda filling it at the grocery store gas pump, the day after your party.”
“Shit,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “You think they killed Archer?”
“It’s the strongest theory, but here’s the kicker.”
Brodie almost didn’t want to know. He had yet to wrap his brain around the idea that Jonathon might still be alive.
“The day of your party, Ronda emptied her bank accounts to the tune of ten grand.”
“That’s a lot of money, and I can’t think of a logical reason to do that unless she had a big purchase or something,” Brodie said. The most money he’d ever taken out was five grand to pay cash for his first truck when he’d been eighteen years old.
“In today’s world of PayPal and Venmo, what would be the point in carrying around that much cash? Most places these days don’t even want to deal with it, preferring credit.”
“This is a crazy thought, but has anyone looked at the court transcripts from Archer’s trial and subsequent acquittal?”
“I’ve got one of my clerks combing through the documents,” Harper said as she adjusted her hard hat. “I’ve also got a call into the lawyer who defended him and the Assistant District Attorney who prosecuted. Not to mention Tex and my buddy, Mozart, are doing their own brand of digging.”
“We got a bullet,” Jax called from the bedroom.
“That would be the prick in our asses,” Harper said with a smile.
“My mom is going to like you.” The words whooshed out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to comprehend how she might take that sentiment. It had been two days, and here he was wanting to take her back home to meet the family.
She arched a brow.
“I just meant that—”
She squeezed his biceps. “Let’s get through this case and then maybe,” she said, waggling her finger, “we can talk about whatever this is, but I’m not up for meeting your mother any time soon.”
“She’s coming down in two weeks, so it might be sooner rather than later.”
Harper let out an audible gasp.
God, he wanted to yank her in his arms and kiss those pouty lips.
Later. Definitely later.
He followed her into the bedroom, where Jax held up a small, charred bullet in a pair of tweezers before dropping it into an evidence bag. “Looks like a forty-five.”
“I know Jonathon owned a couple of guns,” Hunter said. “I’ve seen him at the range more than once.”
“I own five guns.” Brodie had been a gun nut his entire life. He loved going to the range and hunting. The feel of the metal in his hands was almost as intoxicating as hosing down a blaze burning toward the sky. Not that he ever really wanted to have to put out a fire at this point in his life, but it was what he signed on for. “Being a gun owner doesn’t mean anything.”
“You’re defending Jonathon?” Jax asked with a raised brow.
“Not defending, but I was just accused of something based on only one piece of the puzzle, and it didn’t feel very good, so I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“You’re a better man than me,” Hunter said. “I’d be jumping on the judgmental bandwagon.”
“Even though I think Jonathon is a dick, I don’t want to believe he could murder anyone, especially his own brother, in cold blood.” Brodie shivered. His sisters meant the world to him, and no matter how mad he’d gotten at them, or they at him, it only lasted five minutes. Even when Brodie and Madison had burned down half the backyard, his siblings didn’t think the worst of him. He didn’t want to think the worst of a brother in arms.
“So, where is he?” Jax asked the obvious.
Harper’s phone rang. “It’s Tex.” She tapped the speaker button. “Hey, Tex. I’ve got you on speaker with Brodie, Jax, Hunter, and my assistant.”
“Hey, everyone. I’m going to skip the formalities and get right to the point.”
“Works for us,” Harper said.
Brodie folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head. If you wanted to find someone, Tex was your man. Best the business had to offer.
“I was able to trace some of the funds from overseas back to two local banks. One was Jonathon’s girlfriend.”
“Guess Jonathon doesn’t deserve the benefit of my doubt,” Brodie muttered. His mother had always told him that his trusting soul was his biggest strength.
And his strongest weakness.
“No, I’d say he doesn’t,” Tex’s voice bellowed over the speaker. “And it gets weirder.”
“How weird?” Brodie asked.
“An hour ago, the off-shore account transferred ten grand into an LLC. Guess whose name is registered as the LLC?”
“How about you just tell us,” Harper said.
“Edwin Gladstone.”
“Jesus,” Brodie muttered.
“Tex, do you have anything else on Edwin for me?” Harper asked, her tone remaining professional, but tight.
“I’m pinging his phone, and it seems he is on the move, heading toward the interstate, I would guess.”
“Thanks, Tex. What about Jonathon?”
“I don’t have a whereabouts for him, yet. But don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ll find him.”
“All right. Can you send me the coordinates? I want to cut him off at the pass so I can buy myself some time to get the necessary paperwork together to haul his sorry ass in.”
“Done,” Tex said. “Talk soon.”
“Hey, Louis, any word from our clerk?” Harper tucked her phone and tablet into her bag.
“I’m texting her now.”
“Holy shit,” Harper said.
“What now?”
“Tex just texted, and an Archer Battle just got off a plane and passed through customs and guess where he was coming from?” Harper asked, shaking her head, her lips pulling down into a frown.
“The Caribbean,” Jax, Hunter, and Brodie all said in unison. Of course, Archer was dead, so it had to be Jonathon. But why the hell was he risking coming back into the States?
“Our clerk had a long chat with the ADA that tried the bank robbery,” Louis interjected.
“And what did he have to say?” Brodie asked, his mind churning over all the details, and the picture it painted wasn’t pretty. But there were more questions than answers.
“He always believed Archer’s brother had Archer hide the money, but he never had any proof. When the case was overturned, the DA’s office hired a PI, but Archer gave him the slip about an hour north of here.” Louis rolled his forefinger over his cell. “It was Jonathon that pushed hard to have the case overturned.”
“Is the PI still around?” Harper asked, her gaze darting between the phone and Brodie.
“I’m not sure,” Louis said.
“I’ll get Tex to find him,” Harper said with a stained voice. “I need to talk to him and find out exactly what he knows.”
“There is more, ma’am,” Louis said.
“Keep talking.” Brodie liked this kid, and he would bet he’d become a great investigator under the direction of Harper. One of the things Brodie found most intriguing about Harper, and how she handled this case, had been her willingness to use all resources available, never letting her own ego get in the way.
Even the way she handled Edwin in the office hadn’t b
een about ego, but about setting a tone that everyone needed to be a team player.
“It seems someone beat the crap out of Ronda,” Louis said. “She was found in a hotel room just twenty minutes ago when she failed to check out. She was just admitted to the hospital. Locals are with her now. Our clerk says she called to get a medical status, and the nurse said Ronda was still unconscious, but stable.”
“Fuck.” Harper dug her hands into her purse. “Louis, get down there and find out what the hell is going on. If any military personnel are mentioned, you tell the locals this is our case. You get any flack, tell them to call me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bodie scratched the back of his head. “This seems like quite the elaborate plan. One that was years in the making but fell apart somewhere in the execution.”
“Unless all of this was part of the plan,” Harper said. “Think about it. The brother gets out of prison and comes for his money, but Jonathon isn’t going to part with it.”
“All right, but where does the girlfriend fit into all this?” Hunter asked, though Brodie suspected everyone had formed the same opinion on that.
“She’s his alibi, right, but she fucked that up, so either he beat her up, or Edwin did,” Harper said. “Do we know how close Jonathon and Edwin were?”
Brodie shook his head. “I never saw them together.”
“I have,” Hunter said. “Only once, recently. I thought it was weird when I saw them at Michael’s when I was picking up pizza for the kids. They were nose to nose, having a heated discussion. I honestly didn’t think anything of it. Jonathon pissed off a lot of people, and I don’t know Edwin from Adam.”
“We need to know if there is a bigger connection between Edwin and the Battle brothers. Did they grow up near each other? College? Anything.”
“Shit,” Brodie muttered. “They both went to Ohio State, didn’t they?”
“I know for sure Jonathon did,” Hunter said. “He bragged about it nonstop.”
“I think I saw that in Edwin’s records,” Harper said as she dug through her bag and pulled out her phone. “I’ll have the clerk check on that.”
Brodie leaned against the burned-out countertop. It shifted slightly, so he stood tall and stared into Harper’s bourbon eyes. They held the gaze for a long moment. “Let’s say that Jonathon did indeed keep the money for his brother and never had any intention of sharing it. So, when Archer was acquitted, it was the perfect time to kill him.”
“And to set me up to take a murder rap,” Brodie said, swallowing the bile that sucker-punched the back of his throat.
“I think you were collateral damage and an easy mark considering your history with him,” Hunter stated the obvious, but it didn’t make Brodie feel any better, especially because he had been so effortlessly goaded into the fight by Jonathon.
“We need to focus on the connections with Ronda and Edwin,” Harper said. “How do you boys feel about helping me comb through a shit ton of paperwork while I go get what I need to pick up Edwin?”
“I’m in,” Hunter said.
“Me too, and I bet Ace will be more than happy to help,” Jax added.
“Honestly, I’d rather stick with you.” Brodie had no idea if she’d allow it, and he’d respect her decision and help out in whatever capacity she needed.
“I’m good with that,” she said. “But we’ll need to start in my office.”
Brodie nodded. He’d taken the arson detail because he liked solving things. He sure as shit was going to like doing it more with Harper.
Chapter 13
Brodie went to unlock his front door when he noticed a slight split in the wood. He gently pushed the door, and it popped open an inch.
“Declan, we’ve got a problem,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. Declan was still at the truck, retrieving their breakfast they had purchased from their favorite diner on the way home from the base after a grueling twenty-four shift. Between working Jonathon’s arson case and two three-alarm calls in the middle of the night, Brodie wasn’t in the mood for more drama.
“What’s up?”
Quietly, Brodie made his way across the front path toward his vehicle. “Front door is open, and it looks like it was damaged.”
“Damaged how?”
“Kicked in,” Brodie said as he reached into the glove box, finding his pistol. The neighborhood had its share of break-ins. Usually kids walking by, seeing someone’s purse or a wallet by the door. But most of the crimes were things stolen from cars and the occasional domestic dispute.
“Shit.” Declan tossed the take-out boxes on top of the cargo bed cover before snagging his overnight bag, which was where he carried his weapon. Neither one ever left home without one. “I’ll take the back.”
“Meet me in the middle,” Brodie said. Their rental had two entrances. One off the back patio near the kitchen and the front door with a small foyer next to the family room. They’d scan the main living areas before the bedrooms. Brodie doubted anyone was still inside, but better safe than sorry.
With his gun at the ready, he pushed back the door, scanning the room. He noted nothing out of place. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Declan down the hallway in the kitchen.
Declan raised his hand under his neck, waving it back and forth, giving the ‘nothing’ signal.
Together, they made their way down the hallway toward the bedrooms. The first one on the right was Brodie’s room.
“Shit,” he said. “Look.” He pointed to his dresser. Two drawers were hanging open, clothes haphazardly dangling out. Everyone teased Brodie about his obsessive neatness. Nothing out of place and his bed was always perfectly made.
This time, not so much. Brodie hadn’t slept in it since he met Harper, and he knew he’d left the corners tucked neatly like his mother had taught him, not falling out under the comforter.
“Let me check my room,” Declan said as he stepped by and pushed open the second door on the right. “Nothing touched in here.”
Brodie turned, staring at the open door of the third bedroom that they used as a shared office of sorts. “We always keep that door closed.”
“I shut it when we left yesterday morning,” Declan whispered.
“I haven’t been in that room in three days.” Brodie raised his weapon.
“Yeah, you haven’t been home since the pretty investigator moved in across the street. I’m starting to feel like you don’t love me anymore.”
“I don’t,” Brodie teased, but his voice was strained with worry.
He sucked in a breath, pointing his weapon into the room as he stepped across the threshold and made a quick scan.
No one was in there, but his gun cabinet, which he always kept locked, had been damaged and someone managed to open it.
“Two of my guns are gone.”
“That’s not good,” Declan said, holstering his weapon.
“Worse, your guns are untouched,” Brodie said, pointing to a similar cabinet with the lock still firmly in place.
“Fuck,” Declan muttered.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Ever since Brodie left the base an hour ago, he felt like he had to keep glancing over his shoulder, waiting for Edwin or Jonathon to appear out of nowhere. He certainly didn’t like the fact that Harper had spent the night alone. If the two men were in cahoots, she could be in danger, regardless of her independence and her tough exterior. He had texted her throughout the night while on base and she at home. Most times, she responded within minutes, since she said she’d be up late working, but those wee hours of the morning, where he knew she was sound asleep, drove him crazy with worry.
“I’ll call the locals, and you can call your girlfriend.”
“Let’s call Harper first. She may not want the locals involved.”
“Dude, your guns were stolen, we need to report that,” Declan said, glaring at him.
“Give me two minutes.” He whipped out his phone. “Hey, Siri, call Harper D.”
“Harper D
?” Declan questioned with a quiet laugh.
Brodie shrugged. “I was lazy, and I like the sound of it.”
“Hey, Brodie.” The sound of Harper’s voice sliced through the tension, easing his tight neck muscles. “Are you home?”
“Just pulled in,” he admitted. “But I’ve got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” she asked.
“My house was broken into sometime in the last twenty-four hours, and two of my guns are missing. One is an older Marlon 795 that my dad bought me years ago, and the other is a Ruger semi-automatic.”
“Fuck, that’s not good. Have you called it in?” she asked.
“No. I wanted to talk with you first. I don’t believe in coincidences, and my gut is telling me this is related to Jonathon and Edwin.” Brodie turned and stepped out of the office. He didn’t want to disturb anything more than he already had.
“Did Jonathon know about your gun collection?” Harper asked.
“Oh yeah. He used to want to brag about how his collection was the best around. Hell, that night we got into a fight, he wanted me to show him mine.”
“Did you?” Harper asked.
“I don’t do pissing contests. I told him to fuck off. He went into the house and about fifteen minutes later, he came out with a beer and started in on Becca.” Brodie followed Declan out of the house and back toward the driveway, where he leaned against the hood of his truck.
“That’s when you asked him to leave.”
“Yep. He didn’t, and I did a dumb thing,” Brodie said. “Do you want me to call the locals?”
“I’ll send Louis over. Once he gets there, yes, call it in.”
“All right.” In the background, he heard the sound of a horn. “Where are you?”
“In the car heading to a lead.”
“What kind of lead?” he asked.
“I’ll let you know if it pans out. I gotta go.”
“Hey, Harper?” His chest tightened like it did the first time he’d heard about a fire that his sister had been called to and two firefighters had been injured. He’d been home on leave, and he and his mom paced in the living room until the dreaded call came in.
