by AE Jones
I zoned in on a picture of Jonathan standing in the middle of a desert. Behind him were people bending over, digging in small squares cordoned off by markers.
I held up the photo. “Carl, where and when was this picture taken?”
“Um, I think it was about four years ago. Jonathan minored in archeology. He went on digs during the summer between classes. He was in Egypt.”
“What other digs did he go on?”
“He went to Venezuela one year and Turkey the next.”
“When was he in Turkey?”
“Two years ago. It was the summer before he took his bar exam. He called it his last chance at adventure before becoming a lawyer.” Carl frowned.
“What is it?” I asked.
“He was always so pumped when he came back from a dig. He would drive me crazy with all of the stories. How they would spend days digging in a small square space and come up with nothing. But when he came back from Turkey, he really didn’t talk much about it at all.”
“Did you ask him why?”
“Yeah. He just told me he had to buckle down and study for the bar exam. I knew he was under a lot of stress, so I didn’t push it.”
“Do you know if Jonathan would have any other pictures of the digs he worked on?”
“Probably, he was a camera fanatic. I can go through his DVDs and find them for you. Why are you so interested in this?”
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “If we can’t find a connection between Jonathan’s professional life and the killer, then we have to examine other aspects of his life. If you find any pictures of other groups he was involved with, please send me some of those as well.”
He nodded. It was a flimsy story, but at this point Carl would probably do anything to help. His haunted eyes stared at me for a moment, begging me to discover the reason why his friend had been murdered.
We spent another thirty minutes with him, Dalton asking him a bunch of questions about Jonathan and his friends and coworkers. When we finished, Dalton gave him his card and asked him to email any of the pictures he found.
As we walked out of the building, I almost started to skip, but restrained myself. Once we were in the security of our car, I called Misha immediately and flipped on the speaker so both Dalton and I could participate.
“Hello.”
“Mish, we got a lead. We think Brubaker was a student working the Turkey dig when Cowell was there. Do you have anything on the dig yet?”
“There isn’t too much information. The dig was sponsored by private investors and no major discoveries were announced.”
“Can you find out who else worked the site?” Dalton asked.
“I can access the student listings, but if they hired workers in Turkey, I don’t know if I will be able to get those names as well.”
“Did you find out anything about Joseph Small?” I interjected.
“I don’t think he exists.”
“You can’t find anyone named Joseph Small?”
“Yes, I found several men with that name, but none of them fit the profile. They are either dead, or wouldn’t have had the money to fund an archeological dig in Turkey. I’m still looking into it. I’ll get back to you.”
Dalton checked his watch. “By the time we drive downtown, the law office will be closed. We can go there tomorrow, unless Misha comes back with something for us.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Dalton hesitated before starting the car.
“What’s up?”
“I think I know someone who might be able to give us more information.”
“Who?”
“My ex-girlfriend, Lauren.”
“Why would she be able to help?” Damn, damn, damn.
“She works for the DA’s office here in Chicago. She actually moved here three years ago to take the job. We tried to make the long distance thing work, since I had just taken the job in Cleveland, but it got old.”
“She isn’t working this case, is she?” I couldn’t help myself, the jealous beast had busted out to wreak havoc.
“No, an attorney wouldn’t be assigned from the District Attorney’s office until they actually had someone to charge for the crime. There are no suspects for this murder right now.”
“How can she help?”
“She may be able to shed some light on the case for us. When we were dating, she was a member of the CLG. I don’t know if she still belongs, but if she does, she could tell us more about the group. It seems weird that Jonathan told Carl he was going to the meeting, when he’d told the secretary he wasn’t.”
“If she can help with the case, you should call her.” I could be an adult about this.
Dalton pulled out his phone and flipped through his contacts and hit send. When he got her voice mail, he left a message.
I took a couple shallow breaths. Wow, should I be so upset to learn he still had her in his contact list? I mean, just because I deleted my exes from my phone nanoseconds after the breakup, didn’t mean Dalton had to do the same…right?
Chapter 28
I gaped at the hotel suite Misha had booked for us. It was top of the line with—no big surprise—one king-sized bed. I checked out the bathroom and found a two-person bathtub and his and her bags of toiletries. Two plush robes hung in the closet.
Dalton whistled softly. “This is really nice.”
Typical Misha. “I’m starving. Do you want to get a burger somewhere? I’m afraid to look at the prices on the room service menu.”
“Sure.”
Before we even collected our stuff, there was a knock on the door. I walked over. “Who is it?”
“Room service.”
Dalton stepped up beside me and said, “We didn’t order anything.”
“Your food was preordered by a Mr. Misha.”
I rolled my eyes and opened the door. A waiter pushed the dinner cart into the room rolling it over next to the table. “Would you like me to set this on the table for you?”
“Yes, please. What are we having?”
“Cheese and crackers, oysters, chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne.”
I stifled the laugh threatening to erupt and waited until the waiter had left to say anything. “Did you see the look on his face when he told me the menu? Good grief, all we need is a heart-shaped bed and we’d have our own porn movie.”
Dalton laughed. “At least it isn’t low-budget.”
“No, Misha would never do low-budget.”
Dalton’s eyebrows rose. “I can’t imagine Nicholas approves of spending company money on these types of things.”
“Oh, no, this is all Misha. He’s loaded.”
Dalton walked over to the table. “Family money?”
“No, he’s a self-made demon. Stock market. It doesn’t hurt he has a photographic memory and a head for numbers. He spots trends and plays the market very successfully.”
“You work with an interesting group.”
“A little too interesting at times.”
“Well, I plan to enjoy the food.” Dalton lifted the bottle of champagne from the bucket. “What about you?”
“I’m game.”
It didn’t take long to polish off the oysters. The cheese plate came next. Dalton poured the last of the champagne into my glass and I sipped the sweet-tart liquid, savoring the bubbles.
We finally moved to the chocolate-covered strawberries. Dalton selected one and held it up to my mouth. I smiled and took a large bite, juice running down my chin. He reached out and caught it with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth and licking the juice off. Woo-hoo. I finished the strawberry and before he could reach for another one, his cell phone rang.
“It’s Lauren.”
Of course it was. I nodded and he stood, answering the phone.
“Hello…Yes, it’s good to hear your voice too… Well, I need your help. I need some information on the CLG, are you still a member? Good, yeah, we’re here in Chicago.” He glanced at me. “I’m with a coll
eague. No, you don’t have to meet us. We can do this over the phone. But… I’m at the Chicago Historian Hotel. Fine, we’ll see you then.”
His guilty expression would have been amusing if I hadn’t been trying to figure out what the word colleague was supposed to mean.
“Ah, Lauren wants to meet us for a drink downstairs in an hour. She’s close by.”
He was incredibly cute when he was nervous. I really didn’t have any hold on him, I mean, we weren’t exclusive or even dating, for that matter. I wasn’t sure what we were, but I wasn’t going to let insecurity get in the way. Honest, I wasn’t.
I shrugged innocently. “Whatever will we do for a whole hour?”
He grinned. “We have strawberries to finish.”
I picked up the silver tray and sauntered to the bed. “Yes we do.”
* * *
Between finishing our dessert and dressing, we barely made it to the bar in time. I thought it might make Lauren more open to talk to Dalton if I wasn’t sitting at the same table scowling at her. I had explained my reasoning to Dalton, minus the scowling part. I would sit at a small table close by and eavesdrop. He agreed reluctantly.
I sat down and ordered a drink. He took the table beside me, fiddling with the menu. Lord, the man would never be good at working undercover, he was too jittery. After a few more minutes, he stood up and smiled, and I forced myself not to gawk at the vision walking toward him. Lauren was beautiful, with long, gorgeous, light brown hair straight out of a shampoo commercial, big blue eyes, and pouty lips. She beamed at him and kissed him on the cheek before sitting down. My waiter came by, and when he finally finished giving Lauren the once-over, I ordered another drink.
“It’s so good to see you, Joe. You look great.”
He bobbed his head slightly. “So do you.”
“It’s been too long. How’s Cleveland?”
“Good.”
I downed the last of my drink just as the second one arrived. I really did not want to head down memory lane with them. I asked for a food menu, just to have something to do.
I read every item on the menu twice while they reminisced, finally ordering some chips and salsa so the waiter would stop hovering. Not long after that Dalton got to the good stuff.
“I’m sorry to call you on such short notice, but I could use your help.”
She leaned forward slightly. “You mentioned CLG on the phone. What do you want to know?”
“Did you know Jonathan Brubaker? He was in your group.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Yes. Is this official business, Joe?”
“I’m not sure if the DA office knows this yet, but there was a hit in the FBI database. We recently had a murder in Cleveland where the vic had a figure eight-shaped mark on his neck like Brubaker’s.”
Lauren shut her eyes for a second. “Damn. A serial case?”
“I don’t know. I thought I would look into it while I was here.”
“So what does the CLG have to do with this?”
“The night Brubaker went missing, according to his roommate, he was supposed to be going to a CLG meeting. But when we asked the group’s secretary, she said Brubaker had declined the event.”
“Interesting, but not too strange. Maybe he just changed his mind.”
“Or maybe he was going somewhere else and lied to his roommate?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“What was Brubaker like?”
“Smart, young, full of enthusiasm. Kind of like we were when we first started dating, remember?”
Whoa, Nelly, was she hitting on him? I grabbed a chip and stuffed it in my mouth.
Dalton smiled. “Did he attend the meetings regularly?”
“Somewhat. I would say probably every other one.”
“That’s not what his roommate said. Said Brubaker was religious about going to the sessions.”
“Maybe he was stepping out on him. Jonathan never said anything outright, but I got the impression he was gay. Maybe he was cheating on his roommate?”
“Maybe.”
An awkward silence followed for a second, which Lauren filled. “It’s really good to see you, Joe.” She laid her hand on top of his. “Sometimes I wish I had accepted your proposal and moved with you to Cleveland.”
Holy shit. My heart clenched. I took a large sip of my drink and choked, coughing like a maniac. They both turned to me and, once I was able to breathe again, I smiled and made a never-mind gesture at them. I threw some money on the table and walked out, swearing under my breath. Wow, that had been beyond smooth.
Once back in the room, I stripped and jumped in the shower. I needed to wash away my doubts and the strawberry juice from earlier. Ten minutes later, I walked into the room to find Dalton waiting on the couch.
“You beat a hasty retreat.”
“I thought you two might have some private things to discuss.”
He stood. “Not really.”
“Are you sorry you aren’t with her anymore?” Blunt question, but I couldn’t erase the doubt threatening to take over.
He reached for the ties on my robe. He hadn’t even touched me yet, but heat shot from my stomach through the rest of my body.
“The only thing I’m sorry about is I didn’t get here in time to wash your back.”
* * *
I woke up and stared at the bright red numbers on the clock. Three a.m. I turned over and Dalton was gone. Sitting up, I glanced around the room. He wasn’t there. I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. The door was open and the bathroom was empty. Where the hell was he?
I picked up my phone and tried his number. The call didn’t connect, though. What was going on? I reached for my clothes and then stopped. Where exactly was I going to go at three in the morning in Chicago to look for him? He was a grown man. He would come back.
I got back into bed and lay there wide awake. Should I confront him when he got back? Did I really want to know what was going on? Maybe he just went for a walk. Hell, who was I kidding? He could have decided to take Lauren up on her offer. They could get married and have perfect babies and live happily ever after. I sighed. It was official, I had reached pathetic stage.
I took a deep breath, going through the case notes in my head to distract me. The dig was the key. Hopefully Misha would have more information in the morning. The clock now said three thirty. Closing my eyes, I tried counting sheep, but I couldn’t relax. It didn’t help that my irritation level had spiked. At three forty-five, the hotel door opened. I lay still for a moment. Decision time.
I didn’t move, trying to regulate my breathing as he undressed. A few seconds later, he slid back into the bed and wrapped his arm over my shoulder slowly. Up until then, I had been telling myself I was not going to make a scene. I had no right. But when he laid his head on the pillow and I caught the smell of flowery perfume, anger surged through me like a tidal wave.
“You might want to shower the perfume off next time.”
He tensed.
“Although there won’t be a next time with me.” I pushed his arm off my shoulder and sat up, flipping on the bedside lamp.
He blinked at the light. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really?”
“I wasn’t with Lauren.”
My stomach twisted. “Then you were what? Picking up strange women in the bar downstairs?”
He opened his mouth and then shut it again. Smart man.
I got out of bed and pulled on my jeans. “You know what? I have no hold over you. We aren’t in a monogamous relationship. Hell, I don’t even know if you could call what we have a relationship. But I have enough self-respect to not tolerate a man leaving, meeting another woman, and then crawling back into bed with me for a snuggle.”
I snatched the rest of my clothes and my phone and stalked into the bathroom, closing the door. Plopping down on the toilet seat, I rested my head in my hands. Why was I so shocked? This was typical. I couldn’t count on humans, they let me down every time. He w
asn’t any different, no matter how much I wanted him to be.
I dressed and then changed my flight once my hands stopped shaking. Thank God Misha had gotten me the stupid smart phone. I stepped out of the bathroom. Dalton was dressed and sitting in a chair.
“Don’t leave, Kyle.”
“That’s the best you’ve got? What was this whole thing for you? Sleep with the freak show?”
Dalton surged from his seat. “No. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“I don’t know anything right now. Tell me who you were with tonight.”
“I wasn’t with anyone.”
Picking up my bag, I opened the hotel door. “I’m going to catch an earlier flight home. Stay. Go to the law offices. Do what and who you need to. I don’t care.”
He reached for me, but I backed away. “It’s not safe for you to be alone.”
I shook my head. “Alone is the only way I am safe.”
I walked out the door.
Chapter 29
The cab driver pulled up in front of my apartment building, and I almost choked when he told me the fare. When my plane had landed, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to call Jean Luc or Misha, so it was my own damn fault. Once inside my apartment, I took a quick shower and then changed into boxers and a tank before falling into bed. Needless to say, I was a bit tired.
I tossed and turned, unable to shut my brain off as thoughts of Dalton invaded my cerebellum and wouldn’t let me sleep. Why had I let my guard down with him? Finally I settled down and was drifting to sleep when a noise came from the vicinity of my living room. I lay still, holding my breath. Maybe I had imagined it. But after a couple of seconds, I realized the squeak was my living room window opening.
I reached behind my headboard and eased Stanley out quietly, flipping off the safety. Sliding out of bed, I walked silently out of my bedroom. Breathing shallowly, I paused in the hall, listening. Nothing. I held my automatic in a two-handed grip to steady my shaking hands while I peeked around the corner, catching movement near the window.
