Losing Ladd

by Dianne Venetta

  “Well?” Rob demanded.

  Irritation curdled in his stomach. “I told you I’d get it to you.”

  “Yeah, and I ain’t seen none of it.”

  “What about them pendants?” the younger asked.

  “I gave you half of them,” Jeremiah exclaimed. “What more do you want?”

  “We want all of them.”

  Jeremiah glared at the older brother. Greedy bastard. If he thought Jeremiah was gonna hand over the entire heist he was crazy. Wasn’t gonna happen. The goods were staying with him. But Jeremiah knew better than to ignite the man’s temper by revealing as much. The guy was crazy as a coon dog on the hunt and nastier than a rattler. It was a lesson he’d learned the hard way back in high school and had the scars to prove it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t outsmart him. “I’ve made a plan to get more.”

  “There ain’t no more.”

  “There’s always more money,” Jeremiah snickered.

  “What plan you talkin’ about?”

  “Hotel Ladd has a safe and where there’s a safe, there’s more money.”

  “I already checked that last night and there ain’t no gold in it. Nothin’ but a pistol.”

  The younger’s eyes lit up. “A right nice one, too!”

  “You stole it?” Jeremiah asked incredulously.

  “Yep! They had a fire over there and made it real easy to get in and out,” he said, fanning his feathers like a peacock.

  Jeremiah smacked a hand to his head before he realized the painful effect. Groaning loudly, he wanted to slug him. “Why didn’t you leave it be? Guns are easy to get around here!”

  The fool brightened. “So was this one,” he said, pulling it from the waist of his dirty jeans.

  Flat and black, the weapon snared his complete attention. Steal a firearm and you’ve entered a new level of criminal charges. “Great. Just great.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  “My connection to you, moron. They find you, they find me!”

  “But you didn’t take it,” the younger added, wondering what all the fuss was about.

  Jeremiah fired into him, “It’s called ‘accessory to the crime’, you idiot. You stole the pendants—pendants I have in my possession.” Something that was going to have to change and quick. He was going to have to pawn them sooner rather than later, which would drive down his price. Any pawn shop owner worth his salt could sniff out desperation.

  “So what’s that got to do with the gun?”

  “It has everything to do with it, you imbecile!” Jeremiah wanted to crawl out of his skin, he was so itchin’ mad.

  “Hey, watch who you’re talkin’ to.” Rob stepped in. “Forget the gun. We helped you. Now it’s time for you to help us. We want our money. You got twenty-four hours to deliver.”

  Giving a shove to his younger brother, he directed him out the door.

  Watching them walk out of his motel room, Jeremiah slammed the door closed, instantly regretting the motion as his head swelled with pain. His two allies had just changed sides. Now what was he going to do?

  Malcolm paused at the doorway of the private room. The sight of Delaney’s unconscious body lying in a hospital body cut deep. This was a woman who never stopped, never slowed down, ran on eight cylinders at a hundred miles an hour. To see her incapacitated was unnatural, much like the tubes connected to her body, the monitors lit up overhead, their red lights blinking, blue lights glowing. Looking at her was almost as bad as the sight of his best friend sitting vigil at her bedside. Nick Harris was a dynamic figure, imposing in both vigor and strength. This was a guy who powered through life. He didn’t doubt his own ability. He didn’t accept no for answer. Can’t wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. He moved like a freight train, steamrolling over obstacles. He didn’t get derailed by trouble. Actually, he usually caused it. To see Nick Harris rendered helpless was unsettling.

  Understandable but unsettling.

  Rapping lightly at the open door, Malcolm waited for Nick to acknowledge him. Slowly, he turned. It was a jolt to the system. Black eyes were gouged of life, underscored by dark circles. The lines in his face were carved deep, his expression that of a walking waxed man.

  “Hey.”

  At the single utterance, Malcolm second-guessed his decision to discuss business. Nick was in no shape for it. But since he was here, the least he could do was pay his respects. “Hey,” Malcolm returned quietly. “How is she?”

  “No change.”

  “No change has its positives,” Malcolm offered, walking into the room. If the swelling didn’t worsen, he thought, that was a good thing, right?

  “Any word on the cause of the fire?”

  Malcolm sighed. Straight to the point despite the circumstances. “No, nothing yet. The forensic people were back this morning combing over the site. Hopefully we’ll know something soon.”

  Nick nodded, returned his focus to Delaney. “Did you locate Jillian?”

  “She strolled into the restaurant this morning. Cal asked her about her whereabouts last night and she says she has an alibi.”

  Nick stared at his wife and said, “She’s behind it. I’m sure of it.”

  “Then we’ll be able to prove it. Until then...” Malcolm ventured a peek at the monitors. Picking up on an increase in rhythm, he finished reluctantly, “we wait for the investigators.” Aware that coma patients could hear what was being said around them, he didn’t want to upset Delaney’s recovery by discussing the fire that sent her here. Debating whether or not to reveal what he’d learned from Travis, Malcolm lingered near the foot of Delaney’s bed. They could always discuss matters in the hall.

  “What is it?” Nick asked, staring at him as though seeing him for the first time. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Casting a wary gaze toward Delaney, Malcolm hitched his head toward the door.

  Nick was up instantly. Patting Delaney’s hand, he told her, “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” With a kiss to her forehead, he joined Malcolm out in the hallway. “What’s up?”

  Malcolm took a deep breath, glanced in either direction and said, “Travis came to me last night with some information. Seems he’s been digging into Jeremiah’s situation and learned the same thing we learned, the money came from here.”

  “So?”

  “So, he followed Jeremiah to a house downtown and caught him meeting with two men. The same two men Troy saw in the forest with Jeremiah.”

  Visibly turning the information over in his mind, Nick looked to Malcolm for explanation. “What’s the connection?”

  “One of the men he met with is responsible for our gift shop robbery.”

  “Well, we suspected that much.”

  “What I didn’t tell Travis is that our office was broken into last night.”

  “What? When?”

  “During the commotion after the fire. Someone snuck in somehow and broke into the safe.”

  Nick raked a hand through his hair, the lines in his face deepening. Tunneling in on Malcolm’s eyes, he asked, “They took the gun?”

  Malcolm nodded.

  “Damn it, things keep turning for the worse.”

  “But there’s good news.” Nick froze and locked onto Malcolm as he said, “They found fingerprints. They’re running them now.”

  “Good. It’ll be our first take-down, followed by Jillian and Jeremiah.”

  “There’s another twist,” Malcolm added calmly.

  “What?”

  “Jack and Jillian seem to have hooked up.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Wish I were. Felicity saw the two of them together outside his hotel. Apparently there was no mistaking the relationship.” Malcolm wondered if he should have revealed the fact sooner but didn’t think it important at the time. Nick had seen them together the last time she was in town. Would he care they were back at it?

  Nick swung his head away, muttering, “Now what has she got up her sleeve?”

  �
�I don’t know, but as to the fire, I’m not entirely sure it was her.”

  “It was her,” Nick smacked back. “It’s her specialty.”

  “Except for the fact that Cal ran into Jeremiah at a gas station yesterday and said he had several gas cans in the back of his pickup truck.”

  Nick’s gaze sharpened to a laser fine point. “You think he’s in on it with her?”

  “Or with his two friends.” Malcolm wasn’t sure. “How’d they know to hit the hotel safe while the fire took everyone’s attention?”

  “Dumb luck?”

  “Maybe. Jeremiah's debt was paid anonymously and in cash from a local bank. The two he’s running with could have paid it,” he said, despite the fact they didn’t look like they had a nickel between them. “Besides, if Jillian was involved, she had to have a local connection, someone who could be tracked.” Malcolm planned to discuss the issue with Cal.

  “Keep checking,” Nick said as he glanced through the open doorway. “I still think Jillian is behind this, but whoever put Delaney in this hospital bed is going to answer to me.”

  Malcolm turned to go, startled to see Felicity standing in the hallway. “You think Jillian had something to do with this?”

  “We don’t know anything,” Malcolm returned, backing off quickly. “It’s too soon. But you can be sure we’re checking all avenues. We’ll find out who’s responsible, don’t worry.”

  Felicity cleared her throat. “Yes, please do.” Checking with Nick, she asked, “Any change?”

  He shook his head, a sadness seeping into his gaze. “I’m afraid not. Would you like to sit with her?”

  She nodded and Malcolm took the opportunity to excuse himself. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Felicity edged into the room, overcome by the sight of her mother’s inert figure. It was weird seeing her like this, the woman who was always on the go. At home, her mom rarely sat down. She was always busy, occupied. From caring for her horses, the stables, to caring for Felicity and Nick, her mom was always in motion which made her present condition all the more intolerable. It wasn’t right. “Do you think it’s possible that Jillian had something to do with the fire?”

  Nick settled a brooding gaze on her mother. “It’s possible.”

  “Do you think my father was involved?”

  He turned to Felicity and his expression changed. It was as though he knew something but didn’t want to tell her. “I don’t know.” Pausing, he said, “Malcolm told me you saw the two of them together.”

  Felicity bit down on her lip, a flurry of nerves swarming her breast. “I did. Outside the hotel where he’s staying.” Nick waited, as though he expected her to say more. “I think they’re together,” she spit out quickly. “I think they have a thing, or something.”

  “Jillian uses people. That’s her thing.”

  To set fires? Felicity wondered. Is that what Nick meant? Taking in her mother’s body, images of the fire burned hot in Felicity’s mind. Travis had pushed her mom out of danger, then carried her out to safety. The doctor said she suffered a blunt force trauma to the head, and that’s why she was in a coma. Had Travis caused it when he tackled her to the ground?

  Felicity shuddered. She didn’t know anything about comas or trauma, but she did know about her father. He had it in for her mother. His lighter was found outside the stables. He was seen with Jillian Devane, a woman Nick and Malcolm apparently believed capable of arson. If he was capable of lying in court to send Troy to jail for something he didn’t do, why wouldn’t it be plausible for him to team up with her mother’s arch enemy?

  “Will you call me if anything changes?” She stood abruptly.

  Nick’s surprise made Felicity feel like a heel, like she didn’t care enough to sit with her mother, but at the moment she had something more important to do.

  He placed a hand over her mother’s. “Sure. I’ll call you the minute something changes.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled and hurried out of the room. Her father was responsible for the fire. But she needed to find something more than his lighter, something that linked him to the fire, maybe to Jillian. If she could, it might be exactly what was needed to prevent him from going to court against Troy—because he’d be in jail where he belonged.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Malcolm walked the distance from hotel to stables, the ease of his stride a sure sign his physical condition was improving. A fairly steep incline, the mountainside trail that led guests up to the stables was graded for their comfort but taxing on the muscles. Only the physically fit would enjoy the climb. The others would opt for a ride up, courtesy of the hotel. Inhaling the blue sky above, the line of evergreens and oaks that created the horizon, he recalled it wasn’t that long ago he was chasing Lacy around these mountains and having a bear of a time keeping up with her. A bear of a time. Malcolm chuckled at the direction his terminology had taken. His first visit to the mountains had been little over a year ago—a visit he’d expected to take weeks had lasted months. Years, really, considering he and Lacy planned to make Tennessee their home.

  Home base, he corrected. While Malcolm might enjoy the pure country air and layers of hills, his heart yearned for travel. Born and raised in Los Angeles, Malcolm’s desire had been bred into him. From summer jaunts to Europe to sea excursions through the islands, Malcolm was no stranger to an airport or the jet-set lifestyle. Not only his personal life but his career had taken him coast to coast. In fact, it had been during a stint in New York City that he’d met Nick. Malcolm had been head of the marketing department for a restaurant in the city when Nick arrived on scene and tried to woo their head chef away to one of his exotic destinations. Malcolm’s boss had a fit, sending Malcolm’s cooler head in to prevail. Unfortunately, Nick could be a smooth operator when he wanted to be and talked not only the chef into a new job but Malcolm as well!

  Laughing at the memory, Malcolm was glad for the decision. He and Nick worked well together, both personally and professionally. Their styles were a perfect complement to one another, and it wasn’t long before Nick offered Malcolm a partnership stake in the business. Said if he was going to grow, he’d need more time and to spread out across the globe and the knowledge he had a man he could trust at his back. It was a proposition Malcolm couldn’t refuse. Harris Hotels offered him not only the chance to exercise his management and marketing capabilities, but the eco-friendly aspect challenged his creative side, as well making for a career that held his interest year after year.

  He paused at the top of the hill, anger shredding his pleasurable feelings as he took in the sight of formerly white walls charred black, many collapsed in on themselves. Burnt out horse stalls and scorched leather tack reminded him of the animals that had been hurt. A putrid scent lingered in the air, inciting a desire for revenge. Malcolm had never considered himself a violent man. He wasn’t outwardly physical like Nick, didn’t swagger or hurl threats, but the sight of Hotel Ladd’s stables in ruin roused an ugly need. It was visceral, demanding. Someone had deliberately destroyed an integral part of their property, and that someone was going to pay.

  The sooner the better, he mused, and headed to the nearest police officer on hand. The forensics team was on hand to determine the cause of the blaze, a cause that would lead Malcolm directly to the culpable party. He moved toward an older man, the grim lines in his face suggesting he was a senior officer, one who was probably all too familiar with senseless criminal acts. “Officer...” Malcolm spied the name on his tag. “...Griffin. Have you learned anything about the fire?”

  “And you are?” he shot back with a surly glower, his ruddy cheeks plump and covered by a glistening sheen of perspiration. The uniform he wore groaned at the seams, suggesting a man who liked good-cooking.

  “Malcolm Ward. I’m one of the hotel owners.”

  The officer’s hostility slackened. “Yes, we think so. It was an IED set off by remote control.”

  “IED?”

  “Improvised explosive device.”
>
  Malcolm knew what it meant but couldn’t believe that was the cause. “Someone set off a bomb in our stables?”

  “Sort of.” Officer Griffin called out to one of his detectives, “Randy! Bring me that device, will ya?” Turning back to Malcolm, he explained, “Know anyone missing a cell phone?”

  “Cell phone? No,” Malcolm replied, confused by the question.

  “Forensics is still working to confirm, but we think the fire started in the back corner of the building on account of the concentration of char patterns in that location. We think the bomb was detonated remotely using a cell phone.”

  The younger officer jogged up and handed a gnarled piece of metal to his superior.

  “Thanks,” the man said briskly.

  Malcolm barely acknowledged the junior police officer, engrossed by the sight of the fire’s cause. It was so small. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. We don’t see too many of these around here, but one of the guys out of Chattanooga used to work in the military and he nailed it on the spot. Basically what we’re dealing with is a makeshift fire bomb set off a by cell phone.” Malcolm gaped at him. Taking the hotelier’s silence as a cue to continue, the officer explained, “All you need is a few well-placed electrical wires, a fuse, a power source attached to a can of gasoline and you have yourself an explosive device.”

  Staring at the piece of black metal in the man’s hand, Malcolm was amazed by the amount of information they had been able to gather. There must be more to it. “I don’t understand. How can a cell phone set off a bomb?” he asked, wanting the information to be that easy but needing it to be accurate beyond a reasonable doubt.

  “When the phone is called, it activates the ringer which makes the connection between the components and kicks off the signal to detonate. The idea is to create a signal between the positive and negative circuit which then sets off the fuse.”

  None of it made any sense to Malcolm. This was not his area of expertise.

  “Now that we’ve located the device and cause, we can track down cell signals in the area around the time of the explosion. Based on witness accounts, we have a good idea when that occurred.”