by Karen Rose
‘Possibly. Although I’m sure whatever his real name is,’ he said lightly, ‘it won’t roll off the tongue in nearly the same way as “vengeance dude”.’
She rolled her eyes at his teasing, which he’d managed pretty convincingly, if he did say so himself. Because he was really feeling desperation clawing at his heart. She was sitting here with him physically, but had pulled away emotionally.
‘What did you find?’ she asked.
Diesel frowned at the numbers on his screen. ‘The boys had trust funds.’
Dani stilled. ‘Had?’
Diesel nodded grimly. ‘Brewer had regular direct deposits coming in from another bank. At first I thought they were his income, but that’s deposited into another account that matches with his reported income on his tax forms.’
Her dark brows lifted. ‘You can see his tax forms?’
‘Only because he kept copies on his hard drive.’
‘How do you know the money came from the boys’ trust funds?’
‘Because he kept the emails detailing the transfers.’
She pressed her lips tightly together. ‘How much did he take?’
‘All totaled, more than a million dollars.’
She gasped. ‘Oh my God.’
‘Half of it was an inheritance that Michael Rowland Senior left to the kids when he was killed in Iraq. That money and the house itself were passed down through the boys’ biological father’s family. The other half was probably Rowland Senior’s death benefits. If he had maximum coverage, his family would have received four hundred grand. There’s also the death gratuity.’
Dani winced. ‘Death gratuity? That sounds awful. Like it’s a tip for dying.’
Diesel agreed with her. ‘I know, but that’s what the military calls it. There’s also the surviving family benefits. It’s not much – maybe a grand a month – but the boys will be entitled to that until they’re eighteen.’
‘That’s something, I guess.’
‘Not much,’ Diesel said with disgust. ‘The life insurance and the paternal inheritance were invested and the dividends plus the GI benefits should have been enough to pay the children’s expenses until they turned eighteen. But it’s all gone.’
Dani’s eyes were narrowed and angry. ‘I’m surprised the mother hadn’t taken it all already.’
‘I’m not sure she took any of it. Brewer was the trustee.’
Her mouth fell open, surprised. ‘How did he manage that?’
‘He was Rowland Senior’s attorney. Brewer used to be part of a firm downtown, and another attorney from the firm set up the trust before the boys’ father was deployed. For whatever reason, Rowland appointed Brewer as the executor. Brewer’s been steadily draining money from the fund for the past four years, a little at a time. It sped up in the past year.’
‘Doesn’t someone keep an eye on the trustee?’
‘Supposed to. The trustee submits a report detailing the money spent and for what purpose. Brewer did this and kept copies on his hard drive. But I think he faked some of the reports. One says they spent money on cochlear implant surgery for Michael. We’ll have to ask him if he has an implant, but he wasn’t wearing a processor.’
Dani’s jaw tightened. ‘He doesn’t have a cochlear implant. I asked him yesterday. That surgery runs about fifty grand, and it went right into Brewer’s pocket. How did he claim a surgery that never happened?’
Diesel shrugged. ‘He has a doctor’s letter and copies of bills, but he could have forged those. It looks like he mostly stayed just under the minimum he was allowed to withdraw, until the past year. That’s when most of the money was taken. He would have needed to submit his report soon.’
‘And he wouldn’t have good reasons for spending the money. He needed to replace what he’d taken or he’d be charged with stealing. So he sells his house.’ Dani swallowed hard. ‘And maybe his stepson?’
Diesel had to swallow back his own anger. ‘Possibly.’ He’d assumed the same thing. ‘Whatever he was doing with Joshua the night Michael fought him, it wasn’t anything legit. Nothing about this whole mess is legit. Looks like Brewer withdrew the money in cash every month after it was deposited.’
‘Are we back to him needing money for gambling and/or drugs?’
He nodded. ‘Looks like. The good news is that because Brewer kept all his emails, there are several references to casinos and bookies.’
‘So you’re back to following the money.’
‘Or the lack thereof. Hopefully the court required Brewer to be bonded with an insurance company when they appointed him trustee. Maybe some of the money can be reimbursed.’
‘I hope so.’ Folding her hands on the table, she leaned back, putting distance between them. Her whole demeanor became reserved. Not angry, just remote enough to send a shiver of dread down his spine. ‘What will you do next?’
What will you do next? You, not we. The question hit him hard, because she asked it in the same tone that she’d take with a banker or a lawyer or . . .
A stranger. A wave of loneliness washed over him and his chest felt tight. He drew in a slow breath, holding it, trying to calm his now rapidly pounding heart.
He managed to keep his expression impassive, but it was hard. That she’d firmly put them back in the friend zone was a bitter pill to swallow. Hell, it wasn’t even the friend zone. They were in the colleague zone. She was making it perfectly clear.
‘I’ll keep searching.’ Because there is no more we. No more us. Not that there ever had been anything real between them. Just his stupid hopes and dreams. It was high time he accepted it. But it hurt. So much that the need to punch something was almost more than he could control. I need to get out of here. Away from her. From this.
She opened her mouth on what was sure to be a protest, but he stopped her with an upheld hand that visibly trembled. ‘I need to go out for a little while. Check the casinos. But I don’t want to leave you alone.’ Because even though she’d pushed him away, he still cared. He was still responsible for her and the boys. He would stick with this until the boys were safe, until their immediate future was resolved. But he needed to get away for a little while. Needed to be able to breathe.
‘We’ll be okay,’ she said levelly. ‘Maybe I’ll ask Kendra to come over and watch a movie with us later.’
Officer Kendra Cullen was a good choice. She was an even better choice if her Fed boyfriend accompanied her. Not that Diesel didn’t have confidence in Kendra’s abilities, but Special Agent Jefferson Triplett was as big as Diesel and could protect Dani and the kids as well as he could.
He smiled tightly. ‘That sounds good.’
She gave him a knowing look. ‘I’ll ask her to bring Trip with her.’
‘Am I that obvious?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah, you are, but that’s okay. If it makes you feel better, I’ll even ask Scarlett and Marcus.’
And that was it, the straw that broke his back. The thought of Scarlett and Marcus, married and happy, Scarlett expecting their first baby. Diesel was so damn happy for them, but it was one more reminder that his friends were paired off, living their forevers.
While I . . . sit here. In this house, with kids who weren’t his, the homey kitchen where he was just a visitor. And with the woman who isn’t mine. And as much as he wished it, she might never be. He could feel her impending rejection.
He’d welcomed the interruption when Michael had thrown open the basement door because it meant he could go a little bit longer without her saying the words he dreaded. Find someone else. This isn’t going to work.
Go away.
Now she squared her shoulders, straightened her spine, and schooled her features, turning to him with an expression that was prim but firm. She was getting ready to say it again. Getting ready to tell him to find someone else. And he couldn’t stand to hear it.
Abruptly he pushed to his feet, overwhelmed by the panic clawing at his gut. Because this wasn’t enough. I’m not enough. This wasn’t real. None of this was real and he’d been a fool to pretend that it was.
Dani stared up at him, brows crunching together in consternation, and he knew he needed to say something, because the words he dreaded most were about to fall from her lips.
So he said the first thing that came to mind. ‘Thank you.’
She tilted her head warily. ‘For what?’
For letting me pretend for a little while. ‘Not giving me a hard time about protecting you. I know this is temporary for you.’ He drew a deep breath that sliced at the inside of his chest. Temporary. Michael had been right. They were all just temporary. Hell, Michael had a better chance of permanence here than Diesel did. ‘I know you asked me to stay because of the kids. And that’s okay.’ No, it’s not okay. Not at all. I’m not okay. ‘But thank you for taking my need to protect all of you seriously.’
Her mouth had fallen open, and he waited, hoping she’d tell him that he was wrong, that this wasn’t temporary, that she wanted him there as much as he wanted to be there. But she didn’t. She sat staring up at him, a host of emotions warring in those beautiful mismatched eyes.
She wanted him. He knew that. But she still didn’t want to want him.
Hurriedly he packed his laptop in its case. ‘If you can call Kendra and Trip, I’ll call Scarlett and Marcus.’ Then he’d get out of this sweet, cozy house and do what he did best – catching sonsofbitches who hurt people.
Harrison, Ohio
Sunday, 17 March, 4.30 P.M.
Cade stared down at the man lying in the fetal position on his basement floor. Andrew McNab was a lot tougher than he looked. And a lot more honorable.
Cade was reluctantly impressed. The guy had not given the kid up. Hadn’t said a word other than that he wasn’t going to divulge any client’s business. For the first half-hour, anyway.
That had changed when Cade had broken one of McNab’s ribs. Then the man began to chant that he didn’t know, over and over.
Grabbing McNab had been the easy part. Cade had been waiting for him in the parking lot of the police station. All he’d needed to do was shove a gun against the man’s back and McNab had gotten back into his car and, with Cade in the backseat still pointing the gun, driven them to where Cade had directed he go.
They’d ditched the guy’s car and switched to Cade’s SUV, making the trip back to the old pedo’s house in silence. Because Cade had tied and gagged McNab.
He’d figured the man would sing like a fucking canary once he saw Cade and realized he was the one from the news, but McNab hadn’t. He’d been terrified, but he hadn’t given Michael up.
Cade was regretting showing McNab his face. A guy like Andrew McNab didn’t deserve to die, but now he’d have to kill him.
‘I’m going to ask you one last time,’ Cade said, because even though he admired the guy, McNab was trying his patience. ‘Did Michael Rowland provide the police with my description?’
McNab groaned. His face was pretty messed up. I might have been more impatient than I thought I was.
Cade’s knuckles were beginning to swell, so he pulled his gun from its holster and aimed it at the interpreter’s head. ‘Last chance,’ he said with true regret.
McNab rolled to his back so that he looked up, meeting Cade’s gaze squarely. ‘You’re going to kill me either way. So why would I tell you anything?’
It was a fair question. ‘So it doesn’t hurt anymore?’
‘So it’s not my last chance,’ McNab said.
Annoyed, Cade kicked him hard. McNab coughed, but looked at him defiantly. ‘Why are you asking me? Why not just kill Michael and be done with it?’
Cade blinked. ‘Because he’s just a kid. I have to be sure.’
‘Well, you’ll need to get your guarantee from somebody else.’ McNab spat, his spittle tinged with blood. ‘I’m not going to help you kill that kid.’ He cradled his broken rib with one arm. ‘He’s been through enough.’
‘So you did interpret for him?’ Cade was pleased. The man hadn’t even admitted that much until now.
Something flickered in McNab’s slitted eyes, nearly swollen shut. But Cade saw it. Dismay. McNab hadn’t meant to say that.
‘Thank you,’ Cade said. ‘Close your eyes. It’ll be easier.’
The defiance was back. ‘How will you talk to him?’
Cade blinked again. ‘What?’
‘Are you going to just shoot him in the head, or are you going to bring him here and beat him to death?’
Cade flinched. ‘I . . . I’m not sure.’ He hadn’t thought that far. ‘Probably just shoot him.’
‘Just like that? You aren’t going to tell him why?’
‘He’ll know why.’ But Cade considered the interpreter’s words. If he did need to talk to Michael for any reason, it’d be smarter to keep McNab alive. At least until he’d taken care of the boy.
He grabbed McNab’s collar and dragged him into the cell where the pedo had kept his prisoners. Cade had already checked the man for weapons and he was clean, which made sense, as he’d been planning to go into the police station. He slammed the cell door shut and checked that he had the key.
Then he went into the weapons room and stocked up, arming himself. He selected three more handguns, an automatic rifle that he’d converted from semi-auto himself. And two of the old pedo’s vintage grenades.
He’d never had to use one, but if he was surrounded and needed to make a quick getaway, he could use them as a distraction.
Because he’d had time to think about this while questioning the interpreter. He still didn’t know where Michael was. Consensus among the reporters online was that he was in custody in a safe house somewhere. Probably well guarded.
Cade wasn’t going to be able to get into a safe house. But if he could find out where it was, he could smoke Michael out. And then he’d shoot him.
Or bring him back here and drug him. That might be easier. On both of us. He wasn’t relishing the cold-blooded murder of a fourteen-year-old, especially now that McNab had so bluntly asked him his plans.
He scanned the shelves to figure out what he had that could be used to smoke the kid out. A smoke grenade wouldn’t do it. He needed real smoke, from a real fire. He could go old-school with matches and gasoline, but if it was a safe house, the cops would have cameras set up. Whatever he did, he’d need to do it from far enough away that the cops couldn’t see him coming and stop him.
His gaze fell on the glass bottles on one of the shelves. They were covered with years’ worth of dust. But the can sitting next to the bottles was new. No newer than four years, though, which was when Cade had chucked the old pedo into the river.
It was tar. Next to the tar was a neatly wound coil of fuses. And a small gasoline can. Cade shook it. It still had some gas in it.
He knew exactly what those bottles were for. Sometimes low-tech was best, and a Molotov cocktail was about as low-tech as it got. Only thing lower would be a rock.
He busied himself making up the concoction and carefully pouring it into the bottles. He’d smoke out the kid and snatch him in the confusion of a fire.
But first he had to find the safe house. He had been unsuccessful discovering who the protective woman in the news video was, the one who’d guarded Michael as they’d walked into the police station.
But Michael’s mother might know her identity. And even if Stella Brewer truly didn’t know, she could still be useful. She’d said that she wanted to get her little boy back, that she’d fight for custody. That would take a while, but a sympathetic judge might grant supervised visitation in a neutral location. If that happened, all Cade would need to do was follow her to that location, then follow the five-year-old back to the safe house.
It was a plan. One way o
r another, he’d find Michael Rowland.
Thirteen
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, 17 March, 8.15 P.M.
Dani was hiding in the kitchen, because the troops had arrived. Neither Kendra nor her burly boyfriend Trip could come because they were working tonight, but Scarlett and Marcus had come right away, bringing their three-legged bulldog, Zat, and their old Sheltie, Baby Bop.
Kendra and Trip had apparently asked Kate and Decker to come in their stead, because the two federal agents had just arrived along with Kate’s dog, Cap. Dani knew Kate had brought Cap for the boys, Michael especially, because the aging dog was a therapy animal. Which was nice and all, but Hawkeye had Michael covered. Dani’s dog hadn’t left the teenager’s side all day.
That left all the other dogs for Joshua to pet. The little boy was in heaven, all smiles and giggles.
Yet Dani was hiding in her kitchen, washing pots and pans. Normally she loved socializing with their circle of friends, although they rarely came here. Usually they hung out at Meredith and Adam’s place, or with Marcus and Scarlett in their big yard on top of the hill with its barbecue grill, gazebo, and horseshoe pit, plus a magnificent view of the city.
But today they were here, and her little house was full to bursting with people.
All except the one who was supposed to be here.
Diesel was gone. Abruptly. And, she feared, maybe finally.
She had no idea if he’d come back. He’d left to go to the casino to investigate Michael’s stepfather. Without a goodbye. Or a wave. Or a smile or a hug.
Certainly without a kiss. Which wasn’t a surprise. She’d been psyching herself up to tell him to find someone else, once and for all, but she hadn’t been able to speak the words. She’d tried, several times, as they’d sat at her table sorting through Brewer’s financials and the tangle of LJM, but the words got caught in her throat every single time. Her body language must have been sufficient, however, because he was gone.
She scowled at the pot she was scrubbing in the kitchen sink, replaying the final few minutes of their conversation. He hadn’t said goodbye. What he had said was . . .
