Force of the Falcon

by Rita Herron

  He picked up his charcoal and began to draw, detailing the Talon’s intensity as he stalked his mate from the ridge, then his movements as he swooped down for the attack.

  He could already taste the sweet blood on his fingertips.

  Then the violence as the other falcon battled for the mate. But the opposing falcon would lose in the end.

  And he would win. Then the prey would be his.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Brack drove them toward Denver, Sonya wrestled with her thoughts and her conscience. Katie’s reaction to the fact that she was going to see a grandmother she’d never met had been excitement, so like Katie to accept whatever Sonya told her with the quiet wisdom of a child older than her age.

  But Katie had no idea what she’d been missing. That her own mother had robbed her of a relationship that might have given her an abundance of love and support.

  Sonya ran her hands through her hair. It was a mess just like she was. How selfish had she been? How insecure?

  She’d played right into Stan’s hands, let him undermine her confidence, as if she were some weak, malleable puppet that he could dance on a string. No more.

  Would her mother be as judgmental about Katie’s condition as Stan had been? Would she blame her for her poor choice in a husband, for the flaws that she’d passed on to her daughter?

  Would she be angry at her for not telling her about Katie sooner?

  Katie had curled up with Snowball for a nap in the backseat, and Sonya stared out the window at the passing scenery, wishing she could will the answers, but the dismal gray storm clouds mirrored her life. One storm had passed through, but another loomed on the horizon.

  If something happened to her, if this crazy madman succeeded and killed her, she’d want Katie to be taken care of and loved.

  “Your mother hasn’t ever seen Katie?” Brack asked.

  She fidgeted with the threads of her sweater, noting one thread had slipped loose from the weave. Pull on it and the entire garment might unravel—much as she felt.

  “No.”

  Brack arched a brow. “Your ex’s doing?”

  Sonya wanted to hoist all the blame on Stan, but even she couldn’t do that. She’d always accepted responsibility for her own choices and actions. “No. I…was stubborn.”

  “Did you two have a falling out?”

  “That’s putting it mildly. She didn’t think I should marry Stan.” Sonya sighed, huddling into her coat, suddenly cold as she remembered their bitter argument the night she’d left.

  And then the night Stan had come home smelling of another woman’s perfume—the night she’d realized her mother was right about him. The same night Katie had been sick and she’d rushed her to the ER alone. She’d been terrified she might lose Katie, and she’d needed him. But he claimed he needed someone else, more of a woman than her.

  Her voice reverberated with disgust when she finally spoke again. “I was young, impressionable, I believed everything Stan said. That we’d have a perfect life together.”

  “What went wrong?” Brack asked.

  Everything. She was flawed. “When he said perfect life, he’d meant it literally. And Katie and I weren’t.”

  His mouth flattened into a thin line.

  She thought back, wondering why she’d hadn’t recognized his flaws sooner. He’d had them, only she’d been blindly in love, thought they could overcome any obstacle.

  “What about Katie? Does he see her?”

  “No. He actually didn’t want children. I was in paramedic school,” she said, remembering back. “He was in med school. We married and I finished the program, although I’d contemplated continuing my education and studying pediatrics.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “My pregnancy.”

  He gave her a questioning look, and she shook her head. “Don’t think I regret Katie for a moment. She’s the best part of my life.”

  “But the cretin couldn’t accept her impairment.”

  “Stan couldn’t accept any kind of flaw. After we were married, he switched from internal medicine to plastic surgery. Now he makes a fortune performing breast augmentations and face-lifts.”

  Brack hissed in disgust. “Sounds like a saint.”

  “He was charismatic, but I realized later that he was a snake charmer.” She rubbed her arms, so cold. “My mother warned me. By the time I got pregnant, I realized she was right. I couldn’t bear to hear her I-told-you-so’s. It was easier to stay out of touch.”

  “It must have been difficult to raise Katie alone,” Brack said in a gravelly voice.

  He had no idea. But she’d managed, and she valued her independence. Only now this crazy man had shattered her newfound peace.

  She shivered, and he cradled her hand into his. She felt warmer, safer, humbled by his lack of judgment.

  “What happened with that comic strip guy?” Sonya asked, determined to steer the subject away from her personal life. She felt raw. Exposed. Too vulnerable.

  “He’s odd, could be the guy.” Brack’s jaw tensed. “On the way back to your house, I called Cohen to request a warrant to search Viago’s house and confiscate his files. If he isn’t the killer, one of his fans may be. Whoever it is, he’s copying Viago’s Talon Terror, imitating his crimes.”

  Sonya huddled closer to Brack, grateful to have him on her side. She only hoped they found out the truth before another girl died.

  They reached the street leading to her mother’s house, and Sonya tensed as the familiar landscape and modest houses appeared. A pang of longing swelled inside her so deep that tears sprang to her eyes. Memories of her father teaching her to ride a bike in the cul-de-sac. Her mother and her planting impatiens around the mailbox. The beagle puppy they’d adopted when she was five.

  Her father deserting them when she was twelve.

  Her devastation. Her mother’s.

  Then the teenage years, when she’d been searching and her mother had been lost. Both grieving but unable to discuss the one subject that mattered most—the man they’d both loved who’d left them without once looking back.

  Brack parked and turned to her, then pulled her into his arms. “Talk to your mother, Sonya. She probably needs you as much as you need her.”

  Sonya gulped back tears and forced a smile, praying Brack was right.

  Katie yawned and stretched from the backseat, and Snowball meowed. Brack jumped into motion and helped Katie out, his silent look of understanding offering her courage as they maneuvered their way up the snow-crusted sidewalk. Seconds later, she knocked on her old front door, hesitant to open it and burst in as she would have done ten years ago.

  It seemed like an eternity before her mother finally answered. Five years of pain, misunderstanding, loneliness and regret mingled as her mother’s surprised expression turned to delight. “Sonya?”

  Her tone sounded hesitant, but accepting.

  “Mom, there’s someone I want you to meet. Someone you should have met a while back.”

  Her mother had aged. Graying hair now shadowed the bobbed brown layers. Laugh lines crinkled beside her mouth, but sadness and hope tinged her eyes.

  Sonya stepped aside and pulled Katie in front of her, Snowball, crutches and all. “This is your granddaughter, Katie.”

  “Oh, my heavens.” Her mother choked back a sob, looked from Sonya to Katie. Disappointment, confusion, anger, then a deep sadness colored her expression.

  Sonya’s heart wrenched. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I wish we’d come sooner….”

  “Shh. You’re home now, that’s all that matters.” Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes, then she knelt and cupped her hands on the sides of Katie’s face. “Hi, Katie. You are the most beautiful angel I’ve ever seen.”

  Sonya’s throat clogged with emotions, then her mother swept both her and Katie into her arms. Relief filled Sonya—she was finally home.

  DÉJÀ VU STRUCK Brack as he remembered his own family’s emotional reunion when his father had been rele
ased from prison.

  He hated emotional scenes. Had struggled all his life to force a blankness to his soul, but somehow Katie and Sonya had tiptoed in and woven a spell around his heart when he hadn’t been looking.

  Finally Sonya pulled away and introduced him. He felt like a voyeur and wanted to leave. He didn’t belong here, not now during their reunion.

  They exchanged pleasantries, then he promised Sonya he’d return. At least she and Katie were safe for now.

  Meanwhile he had research to do.

  The library and county courthouse proved helpful. He checked into each aspect of Stan Silverstein’s life, from the nature of his job to his reputation to his finances. After searching the county public records and library, he booted up his computer. Seconds later, he accessed the man’s financial records, investments and insurance information.

  Silverstein was a respected doctor in his field, although Sonya was right—he performed cosmetic work for the elite of Denver. No pro bono work for charities, no seriously deformed or injured patients.

  The man made money off the rich and hadn’t chosen the medical field to better mankind.

  He’d given Sonya a meager settlement and paid child support directly into an account established for Katie. The minimal payment under law, Brack was sure.

  He couldn’t imagine Sonya marrying the type of man who could dismiss a child with a payoff like Silverstein obviously had.

  He searched further, and discovered Silverstein had accumulated some major debt. He’d purchased a pricey country club estate, drove a Mercedes and bought expensive gifts for the women in his life.

  At least his lovers.

  Not his ex-wife or child.

  Silverstein covered Katie’s insurance, probably another court requirement. And oddly he still held a sizable life insurance policy on Sonya.

  Greed was a powerful motive for murder. If he was the benefactor and Sonya died, then he’d inherit more than enough money to dig himself out of debt.

  Another possibility reared its head. What if the man regretted his divorce? What if he wanted control over Sonya? Would he try to scare her into running back to him?

  Or perhaps he simply wanted to drive her crazy out of revenge for forcing him to pay for Katie. Other possibilities also rambled through his head. Maybe she’d recently pushed him for more money or for him to spend time with his daughter, and he’d felt cornered and panicked. It was a long shot, but he had to pursue every angle and every man involved in her life.

  Knowing the only way he could eliminate him or find out the truth was to face Silverstein, he shut down his computer and drove to Silverstein’s office. The building that housed his medical practice was located in the downtown area, a modern skyscraper that held dozens of prestigious businesses, lofts and retail stores. High-dollar rent for professionals on the rise.

  He entered the outer office, a plush room with steel-gray carpet, burgundy-and-green sofas and so many plants it looked like a jungle. The waiting room was empty, and he hoped that Silverstein was in, not off for some long martini lunch with a bimbo he’d picked to replace Sonya.

  Fool.

  The receptionist, a perky blonde with humongous boobs who had undoubtedly enjoyed Silverstein’s handiwork firsthand, beamed up at him. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I’m here to see Stan Silverstein.”

  “Let me make you an appointment, Mister…?”

  “Falcon. And I don’t want an appointment. This is urgent.” Brack cleared his throat. “I need to talk to him about his wife and child.”

  The blonde’s plastic smile wilted. “Oh. Why, did something happen to them?”

  He frowned, wondering if her question was rhetorical or if she might have an inkling that Silverstein had tried something nefarious. “I’d rather discuss the matter with him.”

  She chewed her ruby-red lip, then stood, her sweater revealing cleavage that would make some men drool. Even so, she was not nearly as beautiful as Sonya. And she was fake, whereas Sonya was real.

  A second later she returned, then asked him to wait in the outer office. Apparently Silverstein was in the middle of a consult. Brack claimed a seat, his temper rising as the minutes ticked by. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty.

  Finally, his patience snapped. He strode back to the girl, ready to battle his way into Silverstein’s office, when the inner office door opened, a woman wearing a big floppy hat and sunglasses slid by, and the blonde motioned him in.

  Silverstein’s office was every bit as elegant as the front waiting room. Plush leather furniture, expensive cherry desk, a wet bar… The extravagant interior made Sonya’s farmhouse look shabby at best, inciting his anger.

  He braced himself to meet the man who’d won Sonya’s heart. But when he appeared, Brack scowled. Silverstein was one of those yuppie types. Clipped, sandy-blond hair. Around five-ten. Fit, as if he worked out in a gym daily, and dressed in designer clothes. His damn nails were even manicured, his shoes spit-polished, and a diamond-studded band that looked like a college class ring glittered on his right hand. Nothing on the left. His diplomas and degrees hung on the wall, framed in elegant brass frames, as if to shout his ivy-league education.

  “What is this about, Mr. Falcon? How do you know my ex-wife?”

  Brack detected a hint of jealousy in his tone and clamped a lid on his temper. “I’m a private investigator.” He explained about the attacks in Tin City and the one on Sonya.

  Silverstein dropped into his desk chair and pulled his hand down his face. “Dear God, is she all right?”

  So the man did care about her after all. He should be relieved, yet unease speared him. “She’s safe, for now.”

  “Good. Then what can I do for you?”

  “I think the man who attacked Sonya and killed this teenage girl knows Sonya.”

  A drop of sweat trickled down his cheek. “You mean Sonya is involved with someone?”

  “I’m investigating her coworkers and acquaintances.”

  Silverstein straightened, his cheeks growing ruddy as the implication finally sank in. “Therefore, you’re checking into me?”

  “I’m thorough.” Brack’s tone hardened. “You and Sonya had an amicable divorce?”

  Silverstein drummed his nails on his desk. “My relationship with my wife is none of your business.”

  “Your ex-wife,” Brack clarified. The man had no claims on her now.

  Or did he? He was Katie’s father.

  And Brack had traveled that route and gotten sideswiped once before.

  “You wanted the divorce,” he pointed out.

  “At the time, yes. But…it might have been a mistake.” Silverstein’s voice softened. “Sonya is a special woman.”

  Unreasonable anger riffled through Brack. “So you’re interested in a reconciliation?”

  Silverstein hedged. “Whatever happens between myself and Sonya is our business, not yours.”

  The hell it wasn’t. He intended to make it his business. “Maybe you regret the divorce, but don’t want to admit it, so you hired someone to scare Sonya into running back to you.”

  The vein in Silverstein’s neck throbbed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Brack gritted his teeth. “You haven’t mentioned your daughter. You do remember Katie, don’t you?”

  Silverstein stood, pain grated on his face. “My relationship with my child is not your concern.”

  “I’m making it my concern.”

  “Why exactly are you here, Mr. Falcon?” Silverstein crossed his arms. “I thought you were a P.I. Your questions sound like you have a personal interest in my wife.”

  “She’s not your wife anymore.” And maybe he did have a personal interest in her. He sure as hell would respect and love her more than this pretentious weasel.

  Love her? Dammit. Where had that thought come from?

  He dismissed the ludicrous possibility. He was here simply out of concern, working an investigation. “Then why do you still carry a life insurance policy on her?”

/>   “Sonya insisted on that for Katie’s sake.” Silverstein’s cheeks reddened with anger. “Why? You aren’t actually suggesting I’d kill my wife for money, are you?”

  “It happens all the time, Mr. Silverstein.”

  “I’m a doctor, Mr. Falcon. I loved my wife and would never do anything to harm her.” He gestured around the office. “And I certainly don’t need the money.”

  “My research says differently. You earn a big salary, but you’re in debt up to your eyeballs.”

  Silverstein stormed around the side of his desk, grabbed the door and flung it open. But not before Brack saw a split second of guilt flash into Silverstein’s gray eyes. “Get out, Mr. Falcon. This conversation is over.”

  Brack shot him a cold stare. He didn’t know if the man was guilty or not, but he sure as hell didn’t like him. He shoved his face into Silverstein’s. “If I find out you tried to hurt Sonya, I’ll be back.” He clutched him by the lapel of his designer suit. “And money will be the least of your problems.”

  “Let me go or I’ll call the police, Mr. Falcon. And stay away from my wife.”

  “You have no claims on Sonya now,” Brack snapped. “You hurt her before, and I don’t intend to let you do it again.”

  He released him with such force that Silverstein stumbled back into the wall with a thud, then Brack stormed out.

  On some level, Silverstein obviously still cared about Sonya. Did he want a reconciliation with her?

  And would she take him back if he asked?

  ON HIS WAY BACK to Sonya’s mother’s house, Brack phoned Rex to check in.

  “Brack, there was another woman attacked today,” Rex said. “Reesie Lunsford, a paramedic. She worked with Sonya Silverstein.”

  Damn. He’d expected this predator to attack again, but so soon? And Silverstein had an alibi, although his theory of paying someone else still fit. “Is the woman all right?”

  “No. She was DOA. And Tripp, the reporter for that occult magazine, has been all over town—he passed out fliers with a drawing of a creature who resembles that Talon Terror, and now half the community is convinced that there is a mutant creature stalking the women. The citizens are all in a panic.”