by Karen Rose
‘Casino owner Richard Fischer did not respond to requests for comments,’ he read aloud. Because he’s not there, Grant thought. He’s left town. Or he’s hiding in that mausoleum he calls a mansion.
He clicked on the link to the River Killer story and sagged in his chair. Seven dismembered bodies had been brought out of the river on Saturday. He skimmed until he got to the part he was looking for.
‘A fourteen-year-old boy was questioned in the death of the first body to be identified, Mr John Brewer. But later eyewitness testimony pointed local law enforcement to search for this man – Scott King. Riverboat patrons told us that John Brewer was a frequent visitor to the Lady of the River’s casino, where King manages security.’
Grant studied the sketch of King and fought a shudder. He was very glad he hadn’t met the man last night. He had a mean look to him.
Returning to the article, he read on, then frowned. The first of the identified victims, John Brewer, had last been seen Friday a week ago.
That was the same day that Wesley’s Cleveland PD partner, Tracy Simon, had seen Wes, with no word from him since. His brother had been to that same casino, participating in some kind of secret game.
Dread prickled down Grant’s spine and a shudder broke free, his stomach churning. He pushed the half-eaten bagel away, his appetite suddenly gone.
Seven dismembered bodies, he thought numbly. He had his phone in his hand ready to call the police before he realized his intent. Did one of those bodies belong to his brother?
Wait. He put the phone down, pushing it away as he’d done the bagel. If Wes was alive, Grant would be flagging him to the cops.
‘And if he’s dead?’ Grant whispered to himself. Then shook his head hard.
He was jumping to conclusions. There was no evidence that his brother was dead. There was no indication that Wesley had even known John Brewer. It could be a giant coincidence.
But if you find a connection? If Wesley did know Brewer?
Then I’ll go to the cops. I’ll ask them if any of the bodies they found is Wes.
Hoping to find something in the news to alleviate the dread that slowly choked him, Grant clicked back to the homepage. And stared, open-mouthed. The hits keep coming. Because staring back at him was a photo of the man he’d seen leaving the casino the night before – the one who’d claimed to be a cop, but who wasn’t. The one who’d seemed vaguely familiar.
Now Grant knew why.
AWARD-WINNING PHOTOJOURNALIST CRITICALLY WOUNDED. Grant slowly scrolled, his dread increasing as he continued to read aloud. ‘Stone O’Bannion was the victim of multiple gunshot wounds last night while on the property of his friend and co-worker, Elvis Kennedy. Doctors at Mercy West say that Mr O’Bannion is in critical but stable condition. His family has asked for privacy during this time.
‘Both Mr Kennedy and Mr O’Bannion are employed by the Cincinnati Ledger. Neither was available to comment on this developing story, but an individual with knowledge of the case said that the shooter was Scott King, the man suspected of the river killings and of the murders of pediatrician George Garrett, the fisherman who discovered the bodies on the Ohio side of the river early on Saturday morning, and Charlie Akers, a member of the crime scene investigation team.
‘After shooting Mr O’Bannion, Scott King is believed to have continued on to the home of Dr Danika Novak, who manages the Meadow Free Clinic. Witnesses say there was a major firefight between the suspect and law enforcement. An FBI agent was injured, but is now in stable condition. Those involved in the investigation believe that the target of the home attack may have been Michael Rowland, the young man seen with Dr Novak on Saturday afternoon. Michael was originally suspected of killing his stepfather, John Brewer, but police now believe Brewer’s killer was Scott King.’
Grant frowned. All of this was troubling, but none of it directly connected to Wesley. Except that Wesley and Scott King were connected through Richard Fischer and the Lady of the River.
He looked around the apartment, trying to organize his thoughts. Everything he’d learned so far was via items Wesley had left behind, and he couldn’t help believing that his brother had wanted him to find them. Why else would he choose a safe combination that Grant would easily guess?
Maybe there was something else here. A file. A book. Something. He finished his coffee. He had searching to do.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Monday, 18 March, 12.10 P.M.
Michael woke with a start. He was alone. Well, not completely alone. Hawkeye lay beside him, using Michael’s butt as a pillow. He reached back to scratch behind the dog’s ears, sliding to sit up, feeling momentary panic when Joshua’s bed was empty again.
But then he smelled food. It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t in Dr Dani’s house.
Safe house. They’d moved them to some fancy condo at the top of a building and Michael had no idea where they were. He’d been forced to give up his phone, too. Deacon had explained that it could be used to track them, and promised to get him a burner the next day.
We’ll see. So far everyone in Coach and Dr Dani’s group had been pretty straight with them. Michael hoped they continued to be. For Joshua’s sake.
I can take care of myself.
Hawkeye at his heels, he made his way to the kitchen, where a man in a black suit stood at the stove, flipping grilled cheese sandwiches in a pan. Joshua was already sitting at the table, a sandwich on his plate, cut into squares the way he liked it.
‘Good morning,’ Joshua signed. ‘It’s really afternoon. We slept a long time.’
Michael nodded, his head still foggy. He pointed to the man at the stove. ‘Who’s that?’ he signed.
Joshua frowned in concentration as he tried to spell the man’s name. ‘Troy.’ He nodded once, pleased with himself, and that made Michael smile. ‘He’s an FBI man, like Mr Deacon and Mr Decker. He makes a good cheese sandwich.’
Troy turned then, the pan in one hand. He pointed to Michael, then to the pan, with a raised brow.
Michael nodded. ‘Please,’ he voiced, and sat down.
Troy brought him the sandwich on a plate. He’d cut it into squares, just like Joshua’s. It had been a long time since anyone had cut his sandwich into squares.
‘Thank you,’ he signed, and Joshua voiced it.
Troy smiled and signed, ‘You’re welcome.’
‘I taught him that,’ Joshua said, grinning so that cheese squished in his teeth.
‘Close your mouth,’ Michael signed gently, then booped Joshua’s nose. ‘Silly.’
Troy got a pad and pen and wrote: Sorry I can’t sign well. Coach and Dr Dani are still asleep.
Michael nodded and took the pen. How are Stone and Decker?
Troy smiled and wrote, Doing well next to Decker’s name and Awake and cranky as usual next to Stone’s.
Good. Some of the load lifted from Michael’s shoulders.
Troy wrote something else on the notepad and passed it to Michael. Not your fault.
Shaking his head in denial, Michael was still grateful that the agent would try to make him feel better. Thank you.
Joshua looked over Michael’s shoulder. ‘Coach!’
Michael looked to see Coach’s big body filling the doorway. I want to be that big someday. Then no one could hurt him. Ever again.
‘I smell food.’ Coach rubbed Joshua’s head affectionately. ‘Is it good?’
Joshua nodded. ‘Mr Troy is a good cook.’
Troy winced. ‘Not really, but I’m learning.’
‘You made the cookies,’ Michael remembered. ‘Faith told us. They were good.’
Troy’s eyes widened when Joshua voiced his words. ‘Were? They’re all gone?’
Michael shrugged. ‘Not all. Most.’
‘But I made three dozen cookies.’
‘It was a rou
gh night,’ Coach said, signing for himself.
Troy’s nod was understanding. ‘Yeah, I guess it was.’
‘What are we gonna do today?’ Joshua asked.
‘Not much,’ Coach told him. ‘You guys are kind of stuck here for a little while.’
‘Because Dr Dani’s house caught on fire,’ Michael said.
Joshua’s nose wrinkled. ‘From the firecrackers. I remember. I smelled it. But Mr Deacon put it out. He’s like a superhero.’
Coach laughed. ‘Don’t tell him. His ego will get big.’
Troy pointed to Michael’s plate. ‘Eat,’ he signed clumsily, then shivered dramatically.
‘He means it’ll get cold,’ Joshua signed.
Michael chuckled. ‘I got that.’ As he started to eat, Coach’s face changed, getting that soft look that he got every time Dr Dani came around. Sure enough, Michael smelled chocolate seconds before Dani took the seat next to him.
She and Coach shared a look, but it wasn’t a happy one. Michael pushed his plate away. Had they had a fight? Were they breaking up? Were they even together?
But Coach put out his hand and Dr Dani took it, squeezing hard. Troy seemed to know what was going on, because he excused himself and left the room.
Coach held out his arm to Joshua, who’d also felt the change in mood. Joshua’s sunny smile was gone as he climbed into Coach’s lap.
Dr Dani straightened in her seat and gave Coach’s hand another squeeze before signing to Michael. ‘I have news for you both. It’s about your mother.’
Michael recoiled, pressing back in his chair. ‘Did she get out of jail? Is she . . .’ He had to fight to breathe. ‘Is she coming for Joshua?’
Dr Dani shook her head. ‘I . . .’ She looked at Coach helplessly, then back at Michael. ‘She’s dead.’
Michael frowned. ‘What?’ He didn’t understand. Except that he did.
Joshua’s face had grown pale and he was trembling in Coach’s arms. Joshua did understand, Michael thought, and he wished to God that he didn’t.
‘Was it the drugs?’ Michael asked, feeling suddenly very calm. And cold.
Dani shook her head again. ‘No, honey. She was killed. Someone broke into her house and killed her.’
Michael’s mouth fell open. Oh God. ‘Him. Scott King.’
Dani nodded. ‘They think so.’ She turned to focus on Joshua. ‘I’m so sorry, baby,’ she signed, her hands shaking and her mouth barely moving.
I’m not. Michael pulled his plate close and picked up a square of grilled cheese. He bit into it, barely tasting the cheese. But he was hungry, and people other than the school cafeteria ladies were feeding him for the first time in . . . forever.
He was going to eat what he could, whenever he could, because who knew how long Dani would keep them?
Joshua began to cry. ‘What’s gonna happen to us, Michael?’
Michael put down the sandwich, his stomach churning again, but for a different reason now. Hawkeye put his head on Michael’s knee and he petted the dog a few times before answering. ‘I’ll figure it out. I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?’
Joshua nodded uncertainly. ‘But where will we live? Dr Dani is temporary. You said that.’
Dani closed her eyes. Pressed her lips together. A tear trickled down her face. She looked at Coach and murmured something that Michael couldn’t catch.
Coach wiped the tear from her face. ‘Whatever you need,’ he voiced back without signing, but Michael could read his lips well enough to understand. Joshua was no longer signing, having turned his face into Coach’s chest, crying like his heart would break.
He’s only five years old, dammit. Stella was an awful mother, but Joshua still loved her.
Dani turned her body so that Michael could see her hands but Joshua couldn’t, even if he had been looking at them. Coach had both arms around him now, rocking him and whispering in his ear. Michael couldn’t understand what he was saying, but Joshua must have, because his skinny little arms came up to wrap around Coach’s neck. Coach held him like the child he was, meeting Michael’s eyes with such sadness that Michael almost cried himself.
But he wasn’t going to cry. He’d cried enough for Stella and John Brewer. Because they’d hurt him. But now they were both dead and he wasn’t sorry. He was scared, though. Because as big as he might talk about taking care of Joshua, he’d heard the stories about foster care. He knew they’d be separated.
He’d run away with Joshua before he let that happen.
Michael jumped when Dani laid her hand on his arm. ‘Hey,’ she signed without using her voice. ‘I’m not going to tell Joshua because he’s so young. You’re old enough to understand the system, though. You get what may and may not happen, and what I am and am not allowed to do. I’m going to do my damnedest to become a permanent foster parent for you two. I don’t want you sent somewhere else.’
Michael stared at her, his heart beating like a wild thing. ‘Possible?’ he asked.
‘Possible.’ She tilted her head. ‘Probable. But not definite. I won’t ever lie to you. I’m going to try. I’m making the calls today. So don’t worry for now. I’m going to take care of you for as long as I can.’
Michael swallowed hard, overwhelmed. ‘Thank you.’
She smiled sadly. ‘You’re worth it.’
No, he wasn’t, but Joshua was. ‘I’m not sorry she’s dead,’ he signed, glancing at Joshua to make sure that he still couldn’t see him.
Dani nodded. ‘Me either.’
‘Same.’ Coach let go of Joshua long enough to do the sign one-handed, then resumed his rocking.
‘You’re not a bad person for not being sorry,’ Dani told him. ‘But this is something that Meredith can help you with.’
Meredith. The counselor lady. He wondered if she had a dog, too. ‘I liked her.’
‘I’m glad.’
He hesitated. ‘Last night . . . when we were in the FBI van leaving your house, I talked to Faith. She signs pretty well. Because of Greg.’
Dani nodded, saying nothing, so he gathered his thoughts and went on.
‘I asked her why she wasn’t going to be my therapist, and she said . . .’ He swallowed hard, still unable to believe it.
‘What did she say, sweetie?’ Dani asked, her signs soft.
‘That I was your family and she was your family. So I’m her family. And she thought it would be better for her to not be my therapist.’
One side of Dani’s mouth quirked up. ‘My brother married a very smart woman with a very big heart.’
‘Did she know you were going to try to make us permanent?’
Both sides of Dani’s mouth smiled now. ‘I think she did. I hadn’t told her, but she knew I was upset that you felt temporary. That you were temporary. I think she knows me better than I know myself sometimes. Are you okay with Meredith being your therapist? She’ll make sure she always has an interpreter for you.’
Michael nodded. ‘I don’t have family. Other than Joshua.’ Dani’s eyes grew shiny with tears, and he knew she understood what he was trying to say. If it means I can have a family, then yes, I’ll do anything. ‘And I understand if you can’t make it happen,’ he added quickly. ‘The permanent thing. But I appreciate you trying.’
Dani reached out slowly, giving him time to move, but Michael didn’t. He wanted her to touch him. Wanted to feel her stroke his hair. Sighed when she did. This was the way moms were supposed to be.
‘You are worth it, Michael.’
Michael’s eyes burned and he could only nod.
‘Eat if you can. Let me and Coach do the worrying for now, okay?’
‘Okay,’ he whispered.
Please, God. I won’t ask for anything else for the rest of my life if you let us stay with Dani and Coach forever.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Mond
ay, 18 March, 1.30 P.M.
‘I’ll put the permanent conservatorship paperwork through ASAP,’ Maddie promised. Maddie was one of the better social workers Dani had worked with. If she said she’d take care of the paperwork, she would.
‘Thank you. These kids have been through hell. Especially Michael.’
‘I know,’ Maddie said quietly. ‘I could see it when I met them. More so, now.’
Which was only two days ago. My life has turned upside down in two days. And it was mostly good. Crazed killers and getting her house nearly set afire, not so good. But the rest of it? Diesel and the boys? All good.
‘Do you think you’ll pursue adoption?’ Maddie asked.
‘I think I will. But for now, I just know I don’t want these kids going to anyone else. I don’t want them separated, and Michael needs a signing foster parent.’
Maddie laughed softly. ‘I’m already on your side, Dani. You don’t have to convince me. I saw your house on the news. You guys are safe, right?’
Dani looked around at the opulent condo with its impact-resistant windows, its single point of entry, Special Agent Troy standing guard inside and at least three more guards between the dedicated elevator and the parking garage.
Not to mention Diesel, who was sitting on the sofa staring at his computer screen like he was trying to hypnotize it to do his will. That man would protect them. Dani had no doubt. He still held Joshua, who’d cried himself to sleep in the big man’s arms. Diesel showed no sign of letting the little boy go.
He’d make a great dad. She’d always thought that, even when she’d been desperately trying to convince herself that she didn’t want to want him. Once they were more settled, they could talk about joint parenting. For now, the children would be Dani’s legal responsibility. Still, Diesel’s words to Adam last night replayed in her mind and warmed her heart.
Those boys are morally my responsibility. Dani is just mine.
‘Yes,’ she answered Maddie. ‘We’re in a safe house.’ And Agent Troy had assured her that this phone line was secure, or she wouldn’t be using it. ‘Deacon and Adam know where we are, but we can’t tell Children’s Services.’
