Rules of Engagement (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 11)

by Camilla Chafer

  "He'll be okay," I said.

  "Do you need some assistance?" asked a disembodied voice.

  "God?" I asked, my heart pounding. I really did need some assistance, possibly a divine intervention.

  "No, ma'am. It's Ernie in Maintenance. I monitor the elevator. You pressed the call button."

  "Oh, sorry."

  I stepped out of the elevator and followed the signs to the exit, walking out of the hospital onto a paved plaza. I couldn't see Garrett anywhere so I zipped the hoody higher and walked over to the pickup zone, looking for him while I seriously contemplated turning around and running back inside. I couldn't shake the idea that something might happen to Solomon while I was gone. I would never forgive myself if he... No! I couldn't think of that. Dr. Forsythe said he was stable. I would pick up his clothes, get back to the hospital and he would wake up. Yes, that's the thought I chose to cling to.

  "Lexi Graves?"

  "Yes?" I turned at the voice. A short man with receding hair and an expensive-looking, black wool coat over a black suit approached me.

  "I have a package for you. Sign here please." The man thrust a digital signing device into my hand and pointed to the screen. I signed it, wishing he would hurry up and go away so I could turn my attention back to searching for my brother. I had things to do. Too many things.

  "Your package," he said as he returned the device to his briefcase and stuffed an envelope into my hands. Without saying goodbye, he turned and walked away.

  I looked down, preparing to push the envelope into my pocket and forget about it but the handwriting made me stop. My name was written in Solomon's hand. I searched for the man, realizing now what I failed to notice before. Regular couriers didn't wear three-piece suits in Italian wool. "Hey," I shouted. The man didn't turn around. I broke into a run, determined to catch him before he stepped into the town car idling at the curb. "Hey!" I grabbed his arm and he spun around.

  "Yes, Miss Graves?"

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "Thomas Gort," he said, producing a business card. "Hemingway, McCarthy and Gort."

  "Lawyers?" I guessed.

  "Correct."

  "What is this?" I asked, flapping the envelope.

  "I believe all the information you need to know is inside."

  "Why are you delivering it to me now?"

  "Miss Graves, I am merely a messenger. I do not have any additional information. Excuse me." He sat down in the backseat of the car and pulled the door closed. The car moved off before I could rap on the window and demand he come up with an answer, right now! Instead, I was left watching them until they turned the corner, moving towards the exit of the hospital's sprawling parking lot.

  "Who was that?" asked Garrett, jogging towards me.

  "A lawyer," I replied, confused as I watched the car.

  "What did he want?"

  "I don't know." I looked down at the envelope and opened it at the curb side, extracting two pieces of paper that I unfolded. The first page was a handwritten letter from Solomon, dated a year ago.

  My darling Lexi, he wrote, my lawyers have been instructed to deliver this to you should I ever become incapacitated. Assuming you are reading this, please know that I love you so very much. I don't know what has happened to me, or why you have this letter now, but I must assume it is not due to natural causes. I have made some enemies in my life. Enemies that won't always let go. Do not be tempted to investigate. I do not want you caught in any crossfire that may have arisen from something I did. I know you will want the truth, but there are others who can find that out and keep you safe.

  The enclosed is to ensure you have a safety net while my affairs are put into order, should the worst happen. The lawyers who delivered this also have custody of my will. The agency is yours. I know you will continue to do good things.

  Everything is yours, as am I.

  Always,

  John.

  "It's a letter from Solomon," I told my brother. I peeled the second slip from the back of the letter and my eyes widened.

  Solomon also sent me a check for a million dollars.

  Chapter Six

  "Why would Solomon send you a million bucks?" asked Garrett. He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead as we made our way out of the parking lot. He did a good job of looking like he was concentrating but I was pretty sure his mind was running at a million miles an hour. Mine was still stuck at a million dollars.

  "I have no idea." I held the check up, examining every part of it. The date was for today and the signature was definitely his. I figured Thomas Gort must have added the date but I could only wonder what could have spooked Solomon so much a year ago that he felt compelled to write a letter and deposit a signed check with his lawyer? I was positive he never mentioned anything to me. Not then, and never in the intervening months.

  "This could have something to do with what happened last night," said Garrett.

  "You think he knew someone wanted to kill him?"

  "Solomon must’ve thought so."

  "I wish I knew what he was talking about."

  Garrett darted a glance at me. "He never mentioned who his enemies were?"

  "No."

  "Is it work-related or personal?"

  "I don't know."

  "Is it an old threat or a new one?"

  "I don't know."

  "Could it..."

  "I don't know, okay!?" I snapped. "I don't know what Solomon was thinking when he wrote that. I don't know what threats might have plagued him. I don't know if he saw someone or heard something or received something recently that spooked him. I don't know anything!"

  Garrett didn't say anything. Instead, he nudged the blinker and we turned the corner. We continued moving through traffic and I stared aimlessly at the other drivers and passengers in the morning rush hour, wondering how bland their lives could be right now, and how much I wished I was living one of them. If I hadn't been in the situation I was in, I'd probably have been arriving at the agency around now, ready to dive into the mounds of paperwork. I might have picked up a bridal magazine during my lunch break or called Lily. Everything would have been so comfortably normal.

  "You'll need to tell the police," said Garrett finally.

  "I am telling the police," I pointed out. "I'm telling you."

  "Do yourself a favor, go cash that check before you tell the detectives assigned to the case. You might need it, you know."

  "You mean, you're not on the case?"

  "I'm overseeing the detectives on it. I'm your brother. I can't handle it all of it directly."

  "Good. I think."

  "We're here," he said, turning onto my street. "I have to escort you inside and then you can pick up whatever you need. After that, I can take you back to the hospital, or help you take your stuff over to Mom and Dad's. Wherever you want to go."

  "Why would I go to Mom and Dad's?"

  "Don't you want to stay with them?"

  "I guess I really didn't think about it. The hospital said I could stay there. Can't I just stay at home?" I asked, wondering if there was something Garret had yet to tell me.

  "You can but I didn't think you'd want to." He pulled up outside and raised a hand to the police officer stationed at the door. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered across the entry. If it weren't for that, it would have looked like any other house on the street, elegant and quiet.

  "Did the crime scene techs get anything?" I asked. I watched the crime scene tape fluttering and didn't make any move to get out. I needed a few minutes to steel my nerves before I could walk up the steps and cross the threshold.

  "They dusted the door frame, doorbell, and the door for prints and swabbed everything for traces of fibers but I doubt we'll find any. A professional would have worn gloves. They looked for footprints too but it was a dry day and many other feet hit the stoop last night so there was nothing gathered from there."

  "Do you have anything?" I asked.

  "Several of your neighbors have s
ecurity cameras and our tech guys are looking through the recorded footage. We'll run any vehicle we can identify against traffic cam footage in the area. Sis, it would help if you could..."

  "I didn't see anything, except a motorcycle that sped past, and I don't even know if that had anything to do with the shooting."

  "You told the detectives yesterday that you thought it was blue. Do you remember anything else about it? Was it parked on the street when you got home? Do you remember the model by any chance?"

  "I don't remember if it was here because I wasn't looking for it. I was just happy to get home. I remember it was big, bigger than one of those narrow bikes that people usually ride on dirt tracks but I don't remember anything else."

  "How many riders?"

  "One, I think. Did you get anything from the ballistics report?" I asked.

  "I picked up the recovered bullets from the surgeons and took them into MPD myself. They're being run today."

  "Will you tell me as soon as you get something new?"

  "Yes, but anything I tell you is strictly off the record, okay?"

  "Okay," I agreed. Who was I going to tell anyway?

  "Let's go inside and get your stuff. Do you know what you want?"

  "I have no idea." I got out, slightly guilty for my short, snappy answers. My brother was only trying to help but my frustration wasn’t just because there was so little I could tell him, it was also because I was so confused. Not only that, but hurt too. Knowing that Solomon was compelled to hide something as big as a threat on his life really hurt me. If I'd known about it before, I could have been more alert. I could have been more watchful and I wouldn't have a check for a million dollars heating up my pocket like a burning ember. No, I'd been plunged straight into this nightmare without any warning. I didn't even know what kind of a nightmare it was: an assault gone wrong or a botched-up hit.

  I did know one thing. I needed answers and as much as my brother was willing to help, I had a whole private investigation agency just waiting at my disposal. If anyone could detect anything, it had to be them. Some of my colleagues had known Solomon for years, long before I met him. He might have shared something personal with them that he didn't share with me.

  We walked past the police officer stationed outside and Garrett unlocked the door before we stepped into the quiet house. The size never bothered me before but now it felt cavernous. Everything inside was so still. No one set the alarm code. Solomon's boots were outside the coat closet where he kicked them off last night. My shoes were right next to them. His phone, keys and wallet were on the console with a small collection of coins like he was about to walk in and scoop them up.

  I gulped. I didn't know when that would be.

  I stepped forwards, looking into the living room. The dinner things were exactly where I left them on the coffee table. I walked in and grabbed them, noisily stacking everything together before taking them into the kitchen and putting them away. Garrett followed me. I stomped out again with Garrett behind me.

  "Are you going to follow me everywhere I go?" I asked.

  "Kinda, yeah."

  Something in his voice made me stop. "You think someone is going to come after me," I said as a statement, not a question.

  "It crossed my mind that Solomon might not have been the true target."

  "That doesn't make any sense. If I were the intended target, they could have easily shot him, then come into the house and shot me too. Or shot me when I came to the door. Or if they were waiting for both of us to get home, they could have shot me in the street."

  "All very good points."

  "So you can stop worrying about me."

  "No can do. What if they expected you to come to the door, and shot him by accident?"

  "There're more than two rounds in a gun. They still could have shot me."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. There're other possibilities we have to consider."

  "Do you think someone might come after me because of him?"

  "Also a possibility. It would help if I knew if Solomon were the intended target and why someone wanted to kill him."

  "I still have no clue," I said.

  "But you'll certainly tell me if you think of one?" Garrett caught me by the arm. "I know it's crossed your mind to investigate this on your own but this is not a case for the agency or for you. You're way too close. Plus, I have Mom calling me every thirty minutes for an update and Dad has already mentioned coming out of retirement. That means, I'm going to have a helluva time just fielding you all while trying to kickstart this investigation."

  I hugged him. "Just find out who did this," I said before I went upstairs with Garrett several steps behind me.

  The stillness in the house persisted upstairs. I headed directly for our bedroom, leaving Garrett to linger on the landing. I grabbed a bag from my closet and set about adding a couple of clothing changes and a purse. One of Solomon's sweaters was folded on the console. I picked it up, holding it up to my nose, and inhaling the delicious scent of him. I stuffed the sweater into my bag and tried not to think about how alone I felt without him there.

  In the bathroom, I packed a bag of essentials and things Solomon would need and want when he woke up. Then I stepped back into the bedroom and looked around, wondering what else I might need.

  There was one thing I wanted. Even though I dismissed Garrett's threat, I had to admit there might be a chance that someone could come after me. I'd already considered the possibility of someone pursuing Solomon again but with a police guard, not to mention my mom, he was pretty safe for now. Me? Not so much. I wanted my gun.

  I smiled at Garrett as I moved onto the landing and gave him what I hoped was a grateful pat on the arm. Before I went downstairs, I ducked into the guest room Solomon set up as an office. The computers in there couldn't be moved but I could take the laptop. I didn't know his password but if I couldn't crack it, I knew Lucas could. If there were any kind of threat, there had to be some kind of evidence of it in his emails or files. I added the laptop to my bag and Garrett reached for it, carrying it downstairs and setting it by the door.

  "Need anything else?" he asked.

  "Just a couple things from the kitchen."

  "Anything you want me to carry?"

  "No, but thanks anyway." I hurried away before Garrett could follow me and headed into the kitchen. When I was sure Garrett hadn't followed me, I silently popped the panel that was cleverly disguised as one of the cabinets. It slid back and I punched in the code for the safe, easing the door open. Solomon's gun was inside, along with the holster he sometimes used. My gun was in there too. I shrugged off my hoody, slipped on my shoulder holster and pushed my arms back into the sleeves. I loaded my gun, put it into my holster and re-zipped my hoody. After pushing the safe door closed again, I replaced the panel. Grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator, I took them out to Garrett, handing him one.

  "Back to the hospital? Or do you want me to take you over to Mom and Dad's?"

  "Hospital, but I need to swing by the office first," I said, checking my watch. We'd already been gone too long.

  "Let's go." He picked up my bag and reached for the door. I grabbed Solomon's phone and keys from the console, sliding it into my pocket along with my purse that I dropped yesterday. I set the alarm code and followed him out, closing and locking the door behind me. The image of Solomon slumped in the doorway lurched into my brain and I hurried down the steps, climbing into Garrett's car as fast as I could.

  "I don't know what to tell everyone," I said as we drove.

  "About Solomon? Who do you mean by everyone?"

  "Everyone at the agency."

  "A few of your buddies came by the hospital last night. Fletcher, Flaherty, Lucas, and a couple others. I figure Delgado filled them in so you don't have to worry about that. We'll need to speak with everyone, of course."

  "I'll make sure everyone knows."

  "You don't have to get involved in this. I’m sure Delgado can set everything up."

&
nbsp; "I know he can, but they know me."

  "They know me too!"

  "It's not the same. I'm on their team. Turn here. We can park in the underground parking lot."

  Garrett parked in my space, next to Solomon's empty one. Most of the lot was full, although a couple of the cars were beaten up "pool cars" as Solomon referred to them. No one wanted to drive them but they were useful for surveillance when an unnoticeable car was required. So far, I hadn't any need for one. My VW was about as anonymous as they came, allowing me to blend in easily whether I was following a suspect or parked for surveillance. The VW was also outside our home, near Solomon's Lexus, which was probably just as well. I clasped my hands together to stop them shaking. I didn't trust myself to drive anywhere.

  On the way up, I called my mother for an update on Solomon's condition, holding my breath until she gave me the answer of, "No change."

  "Did you get everything you needed?" Mom asked.

  "Yes, and I'm stopping by the agency to brief everyone there. I'll return soon. Are Dad and Anastasia back yet?"

  "Not yet. Dad just got to the airport and says they'll be here as fast as they can."

  "Did the doctor run more tests?"

  "Yes, but there wasn't anything he could tell me apart from ‘all stable’."

  "Did he seem worried?"

  "Not at all. We've already arranged a schedule for the whole family to look after Solomon; so anytime you need to step out, we have him covered."

  "Thank you," I said, wondering exactly how many times I must have said that in the last twenty-four hours.

  "Nothing to thank us for. This is what we do for family," said Mom.

  "Call me if anything changes," I said and hung up.

  Delgado, Steve Fletcher and Matt Flaherty were all in the office when I walked in. Delgado saw me first and jumped to his feet, rushing to my side. "Is he okay?" he eagerly wanted to know.

  "He's still unconscious but stable," I said.

  "Did they catch the guy?" asked Fletcher.

  "No. Not yet anyway. Garrett is overseeing the case," I said, nodding to my brother.