by Brenda Novak
“Damn it, Mona,” he grumbled. Should he quit playing hide-and-seek and return to work?
He was sorely tempted. He couldn’t bug out at every false alarm. Already his past was affecting his present far more than he wanted. But being in California required an added amount of caution, especially when the person warning him had warned him before—and been 100 percent accurate about the danger he was in.
His phone rang. “At last,” he breathed, and answered, anxious to hear what the police had found while searching Scarlet’s former boyfriend’s apartment.
“Her panties were there,” Eddie confirmed. “Stuffed between the box springs and the mattress of the bed.”
Rex drummed his fingers on the desk as he continued to gaze at his living room via a live feed. “But was it Tom or Tara who took them?”
“I can’t believe she’d do it. She’s consumed with jealousy as it is.”
“Did she say that?”
“As you know, I’m not on the case. And from what I heard, she lawyered up pretty fast. But Detective Rollins indicated that she said it in so many words before she stopped talking. Like you, he thinks Tom’s our man. But we’ll do the homework—make sure it’s his DNA on the letters and not Tara’s. That should clinch it.”
“And if Tom used gloves?”
“Rollins will find physical evidence somewhere. They haven’t had a chance to go through the bastard’s computer yet. But there’s that, too. If that penis picture was sent from an account he created, it’ll make for a solid case.”
“Don’t forget the bedsheet he urinated on. I had Scarlet save it.”
“I know. She turned it in.”
“That should have some DNA.”
“No doubt it’ll have his. Have you ever heard of a woman trying to pee on something like that? She’d need a shower afterward,” he said with a chuckle.
“That’s a little more than I’d like to imagine, but good point.”
The sergeant laughed again.
From what Rex could tell, Scarlet was in good hands. At least he could breathe easier about her welfare. “By the way, has anyone established why there was such a long break between when she was being tormented before and when this started up again?”
“Until the bastard admits it and tells us, which he may never do, we won’t be able to explain that gap. But whoever was doing those things before has to be the person who was doing it more recently.”
“I agree. Still, it would be nice to have more to rely on than our gut instinct.”
“We’ve learned he was seeing a psychologist during that time,” his friend said. “That could account for it. Maybe she was helping him control his behavior and obsessions.”
“He’s not going to her anymore?”
“No. He quit just a few weeks before Scarlet started being harassed again.”
“Why?”
“Psychologist says his girlfriend kept nagging him about the money. She was pushing him to get married, get a house, have a family. The pressure could have set him off. About the same time, he nearly lost his job for making sexual innuendoes to a coworker, and he got into a fight with his sister over a piece of furniture he felt he should have received when his grandparents died. I’m guessing it just all came together.”
“Sounds plausible to me. Okay, I’ll hope for the best. Let me know how it goes.”
“Of course.”
A soft knock sounded at his door as Rex ended the call. “Yes?”
Mrs. Higgins poked her head into the room. “Something smells like it’s burning out here. I’m afraid there might be a short in the lights on the tree—and as dry as those poor needles are, that’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“You just bought that tree a week ago, didn’t you?”
“I did, but they cut them down so early these days they’re dead before you can even drag them into your house,” she complained. “That tree’s already dropping its needles. Anyway, would you mind checking to see if you can smell it, too?”
When Rex had rented this room, he hadn’t planned on helping his elderly landlord decorate for Christmas. He hadn’t planned on eating gingerbread cookies with her so she could feel appreciated. And he hadn’t planned on becoming the “go to” guy for anything that might need fixing. But she had no one else. And it brought him an odd sort of pleasure.
“Sure. I’ll be out in a sec,” he told her.
“Thanks.” She seemed genuinely relieved. “Oh, I wanted to ask if you’ll be here for dinner. I’m making my chicken and crescent rolls with mushroom gravy. Any chance you’d like to join me?”
It was probably hard for her to eat alone every day. “You bet. Sounds delicious.”
She smiled as he passed her on his way to look at the tree, then followed him into the living room.
“Do you smell it?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied.
“Are you sure?”
He bent closer and checked to make sure there wasn’t an obvious short. “Positive. These lights seem fine. But we can unplug them for a bit if you’re worried.”
“No, that’s okay. It must’ve been my imagination.”
Or her desire to have a good reason to interrupt him....
“We’ll eat in a couple of hours,” she said and patted his shoulder.
“That’ll be great. I have a few things I need to do on my computer, so just call me when it’s ready.”
“I will. Get your work done so you can relax.”
She seemed so grateful for his company that he couldn’t help being glad he’d agreed. He returned to his room so that he wouldn’t have to entertain her for longer than the hour or so it would take to have dinner. He didn’t want to create too many ties here. But he really didn’t have much to do. Since he couldn’t take on any protection jobs, and he couldn’t train the new guy or manage the others, he was left to the paperwork side of All About Security, and he’d been taking care of that for over a week.
The good news was that he’d never been more caught up. The bad news was that he was growing as bored as Marilyn had predicted he would. Staying busy was what kept him going.
But he wanted to call Scarlet, and he wanted to make a decision on what he’d learned from Mona. Was he hiding for nothing? Now that Scarlet wasn’t coming to town, he felt he might be wasting his time here.
He called Scarlet first. She seemed to be recovering quickly, but she couldn’t talk long. The doctors wanted her to rest. So he hung up and checked his house on the computer again, even though he’d just checked it a few minutes earlier.
Nothing had changed. He stared at the images for a while—then he pulled up the message Mona had sent him and listened to it for probably the hundredth time.
She must have been high when she left him that message, he decided. Enough waffling on his part. He was going home tomorrow, if only to keep from getting too close to Eve. He couldn’t go through the kind of thing he’d been through with Laurel, not again. Not after all the other shit he’d had to deal with. His heart didn’t have any more breaking left in it.
Don’t get attached. That was his mantra.
Since he was still waiting for dinner, he entered Mona’s name in a search engine on a fluke, just to see if he could pull up some contact information for her. He wanted to actually speak to her if he could. See how convinced she was about what she’d heard. Learn the context. Ask if she knew the bangers who’d said it well enough to ascertain whether or not they were truly committed to his murder—and if they had the balls to go through with it.
He also wanted to convince her to get into a good rehab—although he hadn’t had much success with that when he’d tried in the past.
Several links appeared. He didn’t get the chance to look for contact information, however. What he saw shocked him too badly—and made contacting her a moot point, anyway.
“Oh, my God,” he mumbled as he read “Mona Livingston, thirty-two, found dead in South Central L.A. Shot twice in the back of t
he head.”
He couldn’t believe his eyes. They’d killed her. She didn’t get out when he’d told her to, when he’d offered to help, and it had ended up costing the poor woman her life, just as he’d feared it would.
Damn it, Mona! He clicked on the excerpt so he could read the rest. The coroner suspected she’d been “executed” last Friday by an unknown assailant.
Rex was willing to bet that assailant wasn’t entirely unknown to him. But Mona had died only four days ago, and the timing bothered him as much as the fact that she was gone. Why now? Why would she be killed after all these years of managing to survive despite her associates and her addiction?
The obvious answer put a hard lump in Rex’s stomach. Was it because someone inside The Crew had figured out that she’d tipped him off?
17
Was Scarlet in town?
Eve hadn’t heard from Brent all day, so she assumed he was preoccupied with his sister’s arrival. She was tempted to call him at Mrs. Higgins’s, to see if he and Scarlet had plans for dinner. Thanks to years of experience at the B and B, working with chefs and helping with meals, she felt she was a pretty good cook, and she was looking forward to meeting someone who’d been part of Brent’s life for much longer than she had. Maybe Scarlet would be more forthcoming about the kinds of details he refused to share. At the very least, Eve should be able to find out whether his second brother was named Rex. What she’d heard when she’d made that call to L.A. was so unsettling because she was afraid that woman had been pleading with the man she knew as Brent. It made Eve want to see whatever had gone so wrong in his life put right so he could be reunited with his family.
But she hesitated to invite him and Scarlet over so soon. She’d just been with him this morning. She didn’t want to seem pushy or overeager.
In the end, she decided it would be better to give him time to get his sister situated. He’d call if he wanted to see her.
Now that she had a night on her own, however, Eve found herself at loose ends. What had she done before he came on the scene?
She’d often stayed at the B and B until late if she didn’t have plans with one of her friends, and, as they got older, she had plans with them less and less often. So it was her work that typically filled those extra hours. But work suddenly seemed like a poor substitute for the excitement, pleasure and heady emotion she felt when she was with Brent.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to tackle the remainder of what she’d missed on her days off. She pulled up the website for All About Security again, only this time she jotted down the phone number listed in their contact information. It was after five, so she doubted anyone would answer. But placing a call to this company might connect her with a voice mail system that would let her access a directory of its employees....
If that happened, would there be a Brent Taylor?
She decided to find out.
After she dialed, and it rang three times, she heard the recording of a woman’s voice.
“You’ve reached All About Security, where licensed and trained executive protection specialists are available around the clock to see to all your security needs. If this is an emergency and you’d like to speak to a specialist after hours, press one and leave your number. You will receive a call back within thirty minutes. If you would like to speak with someone tomorrow, during regular business hours, press two. If you would like to learn more about All About Security, feel free to visit our website.”
Eve had visited the website. It didn’t tell her what she wanted to know.
She rocked back in her chair as she disconnected. What was she doing? She didn’t want to be the type of woman who’d check up on a love interest behind his back. It just felt...wrong. She’d certainly never done anything like it before. And yet she was so curious about Brent—curious enough to wonder how the woman in Los Angeles would respond if she called again and asked for Scarlet. If that number went to Brent’s brother’s house, and the woman she’d spoken to before was the brother’s wife, she would surely know Scarlet. That would confirm his relationship with Dennis, make Eve feel she was holding one piece of the puzzle that was Brent’s life.
After a few minutes of wrestling with her reluctance, Eve blocked her number and called again.
“Hello?” This time it was a man who answered. Judging by the authority in his voice, Eve guessed it was Dennis himself.
“Doctor?” she said, to be sure.
“Yes?”
She heard a degree of hesitancy in his response. He was probably wondering how one of his patients had managed to get his home number. “Is Scarlet there?”
“Who?”
“Scarlet. Your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister.”
“That’s strange,” she said. “You have a brother who’s an engineer, right?”
“I do, but his wife isn’t named Scarlet. Anyway, how do you know Mike? Who is this?”
She gave him the first name that popped into her head. “Jessica.”
“Jessica who?” he asked. “How’d you get my number? It’s not even listed.”
He sounded suspicious and slightly upset, and she couldn’t blame him. “Sorry for bothering you,” she muttered, and hung up. Then she got to her feet so that she could move around, give herself an outlet for the nervous energy that was flowing through her.
“Shit!” Calling Dennis had done anything but put her mind at ease. She was now more confused than she’d been before. He had to be Brent’s brother. He had the right name, he was a doctor, he lived in L.A. and his number had come from Noelle’s backseat after Brent had been there.
But if he was Brent’s brother, why didn’t he know Scarlet? And if Mike was the engineer in the family, who was Rex?
* * *
Rex couldn’t sleep. Not after what he’d learned about Mona. He kept thinking of the day he’d watched some worthless john The Crew had prostituted her to toss her in the street like garbage. He’d walked over to find her scraped and bruised and crying. It had been a pathetic sight. But his own situation was pretty bad back then. He’d understood what falling that low was like. Just remembering those days made him grateful he’d somehow found the strength to build a better life, to get away from what he’d settled for during that period of self-hate. He had Virgil to thank for giving him someone to care about and for encouraging him. They’d gotten out together.
Gratitude for his best friend overwhelmed him for a moment. Everyone needed a hand now and then. And he feared he hadn’t been persistent enough in offering that helping hand to Mona. Worse, he feared she wouldn’t have been killed if she hadn’t tried to warn him. The timing was just too coincidental.
But what more could he have done? The day he found her in the road eight years ago, he’d driven her to her sister’s house, hoping the sister would provide a place for her to live until she could dry out and get into rehab. He hadn’t been able to stay with her; his own life had been in jeopardy. But he’d hoped that dragging her away at that pivotal time would give her a new start.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Mona hadn’t been ready. Or maybe she hadn’t been capable. Either way, he couldn’t really fault her. As many battles as he’d fought—in prison, in his family, in the gang, even with Laurel when they were trying to manage a relationship—he’d never fought one tougher than the battle against OxyContin.
With a sigh, he cycled through the live feeds of his house, which he’d been doing all night. He felt sick sitting there, thinking about Mona and what a tragic waste her death was while staring at his laptop, wondering when The Crew would turn up in his own life again. Because he was now convinced they would.
He’d sent an email to Virgil, letting him know about Mona, but when he opened his in-box to see if Virgil had answered, the new message waiting for him wasn’t from his best friend.
It was from his brother Dennis.
You okay?
Fine, he wrote back. He thought that would be the end of it. Their exchanges wer
e usually just that brief and impersonal. But Dennis kept the email chain going.
Do you know a Jessica?
Jessica who?
She didn’t say.
No. Why?
A woman by that name called here this evening. She asked for someone named Scarlet. Said Scarlet was my sister.
Eve. It had to be her. Who else thought he had a sister named Scarlet? No one who would be interested enough—or concerned enough—to follow up. But how the hell did she get his brother’s number?
Shoving back his chair, he got up and went through the pockets of all his pants. He’d written Dennis’s number down when he was in Placerville. Mike had emailed him with it, asked him to check in. He hadn’t done so, but he’d walked around with that number in one pocket or another for several days. Had Eve taken it?
When he couldn’t find it, he could only assume she had.
Shit. It was happening. Real life was barging in, before he could even enjoy his three weeks. He’d been crazy to think he could steal these days, find a brief refuge from what his life had become.
The thought of not seeing her again made him feel worse. But he’d known what his limitations were. He should never have let himself hope for more.
When he returned to his computer, there was another message from Dennis.
I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but she also mentioned Mike, so I checked with him. He has no idea who Scarlet is and doesn’t know a Jessica, either. It all seemed a bit weird. As soon as I pressed her as to how she got my number, she hung up. Made me think you might be in trouble again.
Again. He just had to add that. His brother thought he was always in trouble, and he laid the blame for everything that had happened squarely at Rex’s feet.
Rex would be the first to admit he deserved it, but his brother’s unyielding attitude and self-righteous behavior didn’t go very far toward improving their relationship. Dennis didn’t trust that he’d really changed. Dennis assumed his old problems would be gone if he had. But he didn’t understand The Crew, the position Rex had played inside the outlaw organization or why the current members felt such a strong desire for revenge. Gangs had never been part of his privileged existence—other than what he saw on the news reports on TV—and he resented that Rex hadn’t led the same kind of uncomplicated, pristine life. Instead, Rex had made their parents suffer, and Dennis resented him for that, too.
