by Sara Bell
“Engaged. My fiancé’s already nagging me about my eating habits, though, so I know how you feel.”
“Sounds like you do. I imagine you’re ready for me to stop the small talk and tell you the reason I’m here.” He picked up his briefcase and indicated the desk. “May I?” When Brandon nodded, he put the case on the desk and opened it, taking out a think file. He put the case back on the floor and handed the file to Bran. “The F.B.I. took the partial you gave them and entered it into their database. It took some doing, but they finally came up with a name. He pointed to the mug-shot at the top of the file. “Meet your perp, Nolan Wilson.”
Brandon looked at the picture, searching for any recognizable features. All he saw was a man of abut forty with auburn hair and bloodshot hazel eyes. Nothing, from his hawk-like nose to his pointed chin, struck any cords of familiarity for Bran.
“Doesn’t look familiar. What can you tell me about him?” “Nolan Wilson, alias Ned White, is a real hit-man’s hit-man. He’s quick, thorough, and discreet. He has an arrest record as long as my forearm, but no convictions. He’s been linked with some of the biggest crime families in the business, but he’s a freelancer, going with whoever pays the best and never pledging allegiance to any one family.”
Brandon nodded. “I understand that the Attorney General is cracking down on organized crime, but if Wilson has no real family affiliation, why the interest?”
“The thing about Wilson that sets him apart from most hit-men is the fact that he doesn’t specialize. Wilson prides himself on his versatility. He’s been suspected in four arsons, three bombings, and at least fourteen murders. It’s rumored that if a client requests a service beyond Wilson’s expertise, he’ll study and learn until he has the skill to perform the job requested. That’s where our office comes in.”
“Six months ago, Ross Donavan, owner of the Norwegian Woods restaurant chain, found out that one of his distributors was supplying meat that hadn’t been graded by the FDA. Donavan canceled his contract and found another supplier. Unfortunately, the supplier he stopped doing business with was connected to the Nikoli crime family. Within one week of canceling the contract, the first restaurant burned down. By the time our office became involved five weeks later, Donavan had lost four restaurants. An anonymous tip points to Wilson as the perp. If we can corner him and make a conviction stick, we might be able to convince him to roll on the Nikoli family.” He leaned back in his chair. “We want this guy bad, Nash. He’s a heavy-hitter with almost limitless resources. Before we go any further, though, I want to know why a small town sheriff is after a key player like Wilson.”
“Fair enough. I worked with the feds long enough to know how the system works. I don’t care who prosecutes this guy as long as you get to him before I do. I’m telling you now, Howard, if I get to him first, there may not be enough of him left to prosecute.”
Howard didn’t seem shocked by the declaration. “Sounds like this is personal.”
“You have no idea. To answer your question, though, I suspect Wilson is behind a series of so-called gay-bashings. I say so-called because I believe he’s really after one man and is using the ‘bashings’ as a cover. So far, two local business owned by gay and lesbian couples have been torched. The first one was clean, but a woman got caught in the middle of the last one. She’s still in a coma, by the way, so any information she might have isn’t gonna be forthcoming anytime soon. As I said before, I think the arsons are just a cover. I believe his real target is a man named Nathan Morris, a doctor here in town. Three weeks ago, he was coming out of his office when this guy grabbed him and knocked him over the head. Nate was smart enough to trigger the alarm, but not before the guy called him a faggot and threatened him again. That same night, both his office and his home were ransacked, words like ‘queer’ and ‘fag’ painted on the walls and animal blood dumped all over his clothes. I have reason to believe Wilson was going to kill him, then went into a rage when he couldn’t find him. The first burning happened a few days later, and a note was sent to this office, making it appear to be a hate crime. A little too damn convenient if you ask me. Two weeks after the assault, the son-of-a-bitch cut the break lines on Nate’s car. I almost lost—” He cleared his throat. “He almost bled to death. The day after he came home from the hospital, the second fire happened. No note this time, but the guy planted evidence making it look like Nate’s brother was the perp. He’s been cleared, so that leaves us where we are now. Wilson’s print was lifted from the undercarriage of Nate’s car, but no other physical evidence has been found. So far, that’s our only lead.”
Howard said, “I’d say you’re right about the gay-bashing angle being a screen. Wilson himself is a known bisexual with a heavy preference towards men. It’s unlikely he’d suddenly jump on the anti-gay bandwagon. The thing about this that confuses me, though, is why Wilson would target a small-town doctor. Wilson is strictly for hire. He has a slew of personal enemies, as I’m sure you can imagine, but hasn’t lifted a finger against any of them. The only time he kills, it’s business. And a guy like Wilson doesn’t come cheap.” He put his fingers to his chin. “You say the last burning was three days ago?”
“Yeah. We’re hoping the victim will come out of it and give us something to go on, but even if she makes a full recovery, it’s doubtful she’ll remember anything.” Howard sat in silence, but Brandon could almost see his mind working. “The thing about Wilson is, he doesn’t leave a job until it’s completely finished. Take the Ross Donavan case, for example. He targeted the four most popular restaurants in the Norwegian Woods chain, nearly crippling Donavan’s whole empire. We believe that was the objective all along. If he is behind these attacks, and his purpose is to kill Dr. Morris, he won’t stop until he either gets caught, or finishes the good doctor off.”
Brandon’s whole body went into attack mode. “That ain’t gonna happen, Howard. The bastard will have to go through me first, and I guarantee you, he doesn’t want to do that.”
Howard nodded. “I believe you, Nash. I know if someone was threatening my wife, I’d be ready to kick ass and take names.”
“How’d you know?”
Howard smiled. “That Dr. Morris is your fiancé? It wasn’t hard to figure out. I may have a fancy title, but at heart, I’m just a cop. Maybe it was the way you said his name, or the way you tensed when you talked about the attempts on his life. Whatever, it’s plain to see you’re in love with the guy and willing to do whatever it takes to protect him.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“To your being willing to do whatever it takes to protect him? Nah. I’d prefer to bring the little bastard in alive so we can nail the Nikoli’s, but if you have to take him out to save your boy, I’m all for it. The world won’t mourn Nolan Wilson, believe me.”
Brandon shook his head and smiled. “I meant, do you have a problem with me and Nate?”
“I’m the first to admit that a good looking guy with a big dick does nothing for me, but I have no problem with homosexuals. My oldest son is gay. The guy he’s dating has sixteen piercings between his eyebrow and his bellybutton. I shudder to think what he might have below the belt. If I have any negative feelings at all, it’s that my son can’t find a nice young doctor to settle down with instead of that pincushion he calls a boyfriend.”
“I’m definitely blessed to have, Nate. Now I’ve got to catch Wilson and whoever is bankrolling him so we can settle down to a normal life together, whatever normal is.”
“I think that’s where I can help you. Like I said, Wilson never leaves a job until he’s finished. I’d like to bring some of my men down here, undercover. When Wilson makes his next move, we’ll be ready.” He stood up and fished a card from his pocket. “I’m staying at a hotel in Chicago. It will take me two days, tops, to set this thing up. You can reach me anytime on my cell phone. I’ll contact you as soon as arrangements are made, unless I hear from you first. Don’t worry, I’ll make it clear that this is your case. The
re’ll be no pulling rank on this one. A man has a right to defend what’s his.” He extended his hand. Brandon shook with Howard and said, “I’ll await your call. And I appreciate all your help.”
Howard nodded and left. Brandon studied Wilson’s file until his neck cricked and his eyes crossed, but he couldn’t see a connection to Nate. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he packed up his stuff and headed home.
When Bran was single, he didn’t particularly care what time he got home. With only Sasha waiting for him, his grandparents’ cavernous old house just reminded him of how alone he was. Now, he couldn’t wait to leave work each day. As much as he enjoyed his job, nothing compared to the prospect of seeing Nate.
He wasn’t surprised to see several cars parked along the driveway. His mother was still coming every day, despite Nate’s insistence that he was able to stay by himself. His entire family had fallen in love with Nathan Morris, and Bran could certainly understand why. He saw his mother’s car, and Megan’s, but he also saw a Saturn Coupe he didn’t recognize. He pulled behind Keith’s mini-van and parked. He got out of the SUV and was greeted at the door by an agitated Sasha. It was unusual for Nate to let her out by herself, even though she had several acres to run. She was going around in circles and whining, unusual for such a happy-go-lucky dog. Brandon stooped down to scratch her ears.
“What’s the matter, girl? It’s cold out here. Why did Nate let you out by yourself?” The sound of raised voices coming from inside gave him his answer.
On full alert, he opened the door to the mudroom and slipped in unobserved, the commotion in the kitchen masking the sound of the door opening. He typed in the alarm code and peeked around the corner, just out of sight.
Nate was leaning against the counter, his face flushed and his eyes glittering. Gale stood on one side of him, Megan on the other. Keith was in front of him, almost like a shield. Amy was seated in a chair in the middle of the kitchen floor, begging Mike to calm down. Mike was standing in front of Keith, his finger in Keith’s face.
“Who the hell do you think you are? I have a right to talk to Nate about anything I want to. Just because your brother is screwing him doesn’t mean you can cut him off from his friends.”
Gale and Megan gasped, and Amy moaned. “Mike, please don’t say things like that. Keith never said we couldn’t talk to Nate.”
Keith nodded. “That’s right, I didn’t. What I said was, I am not going to allow you to come into my brother’s house hurling accusations about him and upsetting Nathan, my mother, and my sister. I also said, if you say one more word against Brandon, I’m going to kick your sorry ass across this kitchen and into the backyard.”
Mike looked at Nate. “Are you going to let him threaten me like that?”
“Nope.” Nate put his arm on Keith’s shoulder. “You can’t kick his ass, Keith.” Keith looked stunned and angry, until Nate clarified. “Because if he says anything else about the man I love, that privilege is mine. I kicked your ass once, Michael. Don’t think because I’m a little run down I can’t do it again.”
“Damn it, Nate. Do your really think I would drag my sick wife out in the middle of October unless I thought this was a matter of life and death. You want Brandon Nash, then I say take him. Fuck him raw on a daily basis for all I care. But before you go and do something stupid like marry the guy, think long and hard about what’s happened to you since you met him.”
“I don’t have to think about all that’s happened. I live with it everyday. Brandon has done nothing but try to protect me since the day we met. He’s turned his whole life upside down to keep me safe.”
Mike tried to shoulder Keith out of the way, but Keith didn’t budge. “Has he really, Nate, or is that just what he wants you to think?” Nate started to say something, but Mike said, “No, dammit, listen to me. We’ve been friends for too long for you not to let me have my say. Go back to the night you were hit on the head, Nate. Who answered the nine-one-one call?” When Nate remained silent, he said, “It wasn’t even his turn to take evening calls. I checked.”
Gale stepped up beside Keith. “If you’re implying that Brandon had something to do with the attack on Nathan, then I should remind you that my son didn’t even know Nate at the time.”
“So he says. But he freely admits that he knew of him. His old high-school friend works for the answering service that takes after-hours calls, and his cousin is the billing clerk for Nate and Amy’s practice. I’m sure they told him all about the handsome gay doctor. The rich gay doctor.”
Megan’s face was as red as her hair. “Nate was with Brandon when his apartment and office were trashed. How do you explain that?”
“Nash deals with lowlifes on a daily basis, little girl. You can’t work in law enforcement without knowing how to hire some scumbag to do just about any dirty job you want done. Occupational hazard, I guess.”
“What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense, Mike. Why would Brandon want to hurt me?”
“I can give you four million reasons why. He’s after your trust fund, Nate.”
Chapter 10
Every muscle in Nate’s body went taut. “That’s bullshit, Mike. Brandon has already said he won’t touch my money.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “God, you are so naive. He’s got to tell you that to gain your trust. How else would he get you living here, full time? He didn’t waste any time moving you in after your accident, now did he?”
“That just proves my point. Why would Brandon engineer that accident and try to kill me? If I’d died that night, he wouldn’t have gotten a dime.”
“I don’t think he meant to kill you. I talked to the mechanic who examined your car. He said your brake lines were frayed, not cut. I believe Nash’s intention was to drain enough fluid to scare you, not make you crash. Did you know he restored that Camaro of his from the frame-up and did almost all the work himself? A man who knows as much about cars as he does could fray those brake lines in his sleep. Now he’s come up with this cock-and–bull story about a homicidal maniac who’s burning down gay businesses just to get to you? I’m telling you, Nash is behind all of it. He’ll gain your trust, and the minute he has your power of attorney, this so-called stalker will close in and you’ll meet with an unfortunate accident.”
Nate’s rage was festering just below his skin, begging to come to the surface. “Get out, Mike. When you’re through talking crazy, you and I are going to have a serious discussion about what I will and won’t tolerate.”
“Crazy? You’re calling me crazy?” His laugh was grating, bitter. “That’s an ironic statement considering your choice of lovers. Maybe it’s time I told you a few things about the man you’re sleeping with.”
Keith said, “That’s enough, damn it. Nate asked you to leave. Now get out.”
“Not until Nate listens to me.”
Keith started to say something else, but Nate stopped him. “Fine. Say what you’ve got to say. I’m sure you aren’t going to tell me anything I don’t already know, anyway.”
“Oh, really? How about the fact that three years ago, your boyfriend flipped out over a case he was working on and had to be institutionalized. Did you know he had a complete break with reality, that he was loonier than a toon for almost four months? Did you know one of the victims was his lover, and that for a while Nash was the chief suspect in his murder?”
Megan said, “That’s a filthy rotten lie. My brother was sick, not crazy.”
“Honey, your brother was fucking nuts.”
Nate edged around Keith. “Don’t talk to her that way, asshole. The correct term for the condition is post traumatic stress disorder. The case he was working on involved a killer who mutilated his victims and then delivered the remains back to the families. Brandon was the chief investigator. Yes, he was a suspect for a brief period when it was discovered that he was friends with the victim, Kyle Washburn. He and Kyle were friends , not lovers. The reason Brandon ‘went nuts’ as you so eloquently put it, is because the killer l
eft what little remained of Kyle’s body on Brandon’s doorstep. Bran was cleared when the real killer was caught in the act of leaving another body on another doorstep. He spent three months in a private hospital—not an institution—to which he checked himself in voluntarily, I might add. He’s fine now, and that’s all that matters to me.”
Mike’s cocky smirk made Nate feel like slugging him, broken arm and all. “Who told you all that? Nash? You can’t possibly think he’d tell you the truth.”
“Brandon didn’t tell me anything. Seth had him investigated. When I refused to read the report, he read it to me. I’ll tell you the same thing I told my brother. I don’t care about Brandon’s past, except that I’m sorry for what he had to go through. The only thing I care about is the future, the one we’ll make together. I’m not going to let you come into our home and hurl this trash around. For your information, if and when I die, everything in my trust fund will go to Amy. As far as that goes, Grandmother Morris left just as much to Amy as she did to me and Seth. I didn’t accuse you of marrying Amy for her money, did I? I gave you the benefit of the doubt even though we didn’t exactly see eye to eye when you and she first started dating. Why can’t you extend the same courtesy to Brandon?”
“Nobody was trying to kill Amy when she and I were dating, either. You’re family to me, Nathan, to us.
I don’t want to see you get hurt by some psycho who’s hard pressed for cash.”
Gale crossed her arms over her chest. “My son has plenty of money, you little creep. Even if he were dirt poor, which he isn’t, he has far too much integrity to ever marry for money.”
“Sure he does, lady. I don’t suppose you have any proof of his financial status, do you?”
Brandon stepped out of the mud-room. “No, she doesn’t, Vaughn, but I do.” He walked over to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Nate’s always after me to store my records somewhere other than the kitchen. Guess you never thought it would come in handy, did you, baby?” He handed the papers to Nate. “Everything you ever wanted to know about the monetary dealings of Brandon Nash is in these papers, Nate. All you have to do is look. I certainly don’t have a high dollar trust fund, but I’m comfortable. I’ve made some good investments, have a couple of CD’s. Everything I have is yours, regardless of the amount.”
