Lawrenceburg, Indiana
Sunday, March 17, 1:15 a.m.
Grant Masterson’s feet hit the dock and he drew a strangled breath of frustration. An hour and a half sitting in that damn riverboat casino and he hadn’t heard or seen anything resembling the poker game he’d been looking for, even after “getting lost” in the upper level. But he knew that the matchbook was the invitation. He’d picked up another matchbook from the bar and, while the front was the same, the back had been different, printed with the full name of the riverboat and its address. There had been no fancy gold writing on the inside.
He had to figure out how to get an invite to the game. He needed to find Wesley’s contact. Richard.
He leaned against the small fence surrounding the dock, listening as guests straggled off the riverboat. Some complained about the rigged games. A few crowed over their winnings, but they were definitely in the minority.
But the games that people were complaining about were the vanilla variety. Slots, blackjack. Nobody mentioned a high-stakes game. But if they weren’t invited to it, they wouldn’t know about it.
He had a gut feeling that the game he wanted was exclusive and, if the cash Wes had been throwing around was any indication, only for the very rich.
He ducked into the shadows and waited another hour for the riverboat’s employees to begin filing out as the shift changed. One of the last out was the woman who’d been called over to settle a dispute between a dealer and a guest. She’d identified herself as the manager. Hopefully she knew Richard.
Grant followed her to her car, stepping into the light from the streetlamp as the woman was pulling her keys from her purse. “Excuse me,” he said quietly.
She gasped and spun around, a small spray can in her hand. “I have no money!”
Shit. Pepper spray. That’s all I need tonight. Grant froze, his hands where she could see them. “I’m not trying to rob you. I swear.”
Her eyes darted back and forth frantically, but they were alone in the parking lot. She tilted her body to bring the pepper spray closer to his face, her eyes narrowing. “I saw you tonight. In the casino. Not drinking and not gambling. Why are you following me?”
“I’m looking for Richard.”
She didn’t move, her finger still on the spray tab. “He wasn’t working tonight.”
“Not working on a Saturday night? That doesn’t make sense.”
She gave him a haughty look. “He’s the owner. He can work when he likes.”
The owner? he thought, irritated. Could have mentioned that, Wesley. But at least this was helpful information. “When will he be working again?”
“Not until Wednesday. Why?”
“I want to talk to him.” Grant drew a breath, wishing he had his brother’s talent for effortlessly spinning tales. “I’m in town for the week for a convention and I heard he has an exclusive poker game going. I wanted to get an invite.”
She shook her head. “All of our games are played in the open, right on the floor. Nothing special, nothing exclusive.”
But her eyes had flickered, just a little. She knew, all right.
“I have several friends who’ve played,” he tried again, but he could hear his own desperation. “They say it’s a high-stakes game. Just what I’m looking for. They all said to ask for Richard.”
“Sorry, can’t help you. Can you go away now? I’d like to go home and I’m not putting this pepper spray down until you’re a block away.”
Grant’s jaw tightened. “I suppose I have no choice. You say Richard will be back on Wednesday?”
“That’s right. Now leave or I’ll scream for the cops.”
He wanted to tell her to go ahead, but because he wasn’t sure what Wes was doing, he backed away, his hands still up. “I’m leaving. Relax, lady.”
She glared at him until he was out of her visual range and he watched as she unlocked her car with shaking hands.
At least he knew which Richard he was looking for. He’d go back to Wes’s penthouse apartment, get online, then figure out the last name of the man who owned the Lady of the River casino. And where that man lived.
Hang on, Wesley. I’m here, looking for you. Just . . . be all right, okay?
But he had a sinking feeling that he was already too late.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, March 17, 9:30 a.m.
It was a beautiful day. Blue, cloudless sky, fresh ocean air on her face, the rumble of the powerful Harley between her thighs as they rounded curve after curve, the waves crashing against the rocks below. Her arms were wrapped tightly around a solid waist, her cheek pressed against a broad, muscular back.
She was happy. Again.
And then she wasn’t, because the motorcycle engine revved. She was standing off to the side, watching helplessly as it careened over the cliff, hanging suspended in midair for long, long seconds while the face she’d loved stared at her with hatred.
You did this, he said. I hope you’re happy now. You killed me. Then Adrian dropped out of the sky to the rocks below and she screamed and screamed.
Dani woke up with a jerk, her heart racing, her mouth open, her breath coming in jagged pants. Caught in that moment when she wasn’t sure what was real and what was the dream. Was she awake? Had she actually screamed out loud this time? She lay motionless, getting her bearings. Thinking it through.
Her throat was dry, but it didn’t hurt, so she probably hadn’t screamed out loud. She didn’t do that every time she had the dream. And she smelled bacon and coffee, so she was awake.
Someone was making breakfast.
Diesel. Oh God. Diesel Kennedy was in her kitchen, making breakfast for the boys. Michael and Joshua. Who need me.
So pull yourself together, Danika. Put Adrian out of your mind and focus on those two kids. Who need you.
Easier said than done. The dream always left her shaken and filled with self-loathing. Not the face she wanted to show the boys. Who need me.
It was a mantra that worked. Had worked ever since she’d been sixteen years old and suddenly responsible for her infant brother. Greg needs me. It had gotten her out of bed every morning as she’d raised him, even though she’d completely botched that job. It worked every day that she woke up now, wishing she could just . . .
She wasn’t sure what. Be somewhere else? Be someone else? But the clinic needed her. The patients who had no other health-care choices needed her.
Michael and Joshua need you. So move your ass and be who they need. Do not let them down.
Like she’d let Adrian down. He’d needed her, but she’d been selfish. So damn selfish. Adrian was dead, gone out in a blaze of glory. And, like it or not, it’s my fault.
She drew another breath, relieved that her heart no longer threatened to beat free of her chest. She had regained enough control that she was able to force a smile when her bedroom door opened slowly and a little face cautiously peeked in.
“Good morning, Joshua. You can come in, but next time knock first, okay?”
His face pinched. “I’m sorry. Coach told me to, but I forgot.”
“It’s okay.” And it was. She always slept in sweats when she had foster kids in the house, so that she’d be decent if one of them needed her during the night.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and found her fuzzy slippers, wriggling her toes as she slid her feet inside. The comfort took the remaining edge off the unsteady feeling left by the nightmare.
Joshua giggled. “I like your slippers.”
She shoved the remnants of remembered horror from her mind as she lifted her foot. “So do I. Big Bird always makes me happy. Did you sleep okay last night?”
Joshua nodded, but his smile dimmed. He ducked his head back into the hall for a moment before returning to meet Dani’s eyes. “Michael slept on my floor.”
“I know.” Dani gently tousled the boy’s hair. “I got up to check on you in the middle of the night and he was there.” And it had broken her heart. Children needed to feel safe, but it was clear that Michael didn’t trust her. Yet. That was okay, though. “He probably wanted to be there in case you woke up in the night and didn’t know where you were.”
Joshua gave her one of those old-soul looks that said he knew so much more than he should. “He’s scared.”
“Well, he’s allowed to be, but he’ll get used to me and then he’ll know that you’re safe here.”
“I know already.” Joshua punctuated his words with a hard nod. “You gave him a blanket.”
“I didn’t want him to be cold while he was taking care of you.”
“He’s always taking care of me, but I can’t take care of him,” Joshua said sadly. “I’m too little. Everyone says I’m too little to do anything.”
Dani knelt in front of him. “But you did take care of him, Joshua. Yesterday you got him to talk to Coach Diesel, who brought you guys to me.” She poked him playfully. “You did that.”
Joshua sucked in a breath, his belly going round. “I did!”
“Yes, you did. Now, I’m thinking Coach told you to wake me up because he made breakfast. Is that right?”
His eyes widened comically. “I forgot again! He made chocolate chip pancakes.”
Dani frowned. “I don’t have chocolate chips in the pantry.”
Joshua shrugged and turned to the door. “I know. His friends brought some over. They’re downstairs eating. You should come before they’re all gone.” He started to race away, but she called him back in mild alarm.
“Joshua? Which friends?”
“Miss Merry and . . .” He frowned a little. “That policeman from yesterday. Not the one with white hair. The other one. He says he’s your cousin,” Joshua added suspiciously.
Dani chuckled. “Well, he is my cousin. His name is Mr. Adam. Go eat. Tell Coach I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She closed the door, relieved. Adam and Meredith were here. Maybe Meredith could talk to Michael about therapy. Diesel had probably invited her over for that reason, asking her to bring chocolate chips to make her visit less formal.
Quickly she got ready, changing out of her sweats into a pair of jeans and a sweater the exact color of her blue eye. She added a dash of makeup that she normally would not have worn. Because Diesel was in her kitchen, she could admit.
And he’d kissed her last night. Several times. Then left her wanting more.
Which was smart on his part, she could also admit. He always left her wanting more. Glancing at her door to make sure it was still closed, she opened her sock drawer and pushed the socks aside, revealing a beautiful hand-knitted lace shawl.
It was black with a jagged white stripe that stretched across its length. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Like my hair. She’d found the shawl on her chair at the clinic one morning about a year ago, wrapped in shiny foil paper. There’d been no name attached indicating the sender.
She hadn’t realized that it was from Diesel until later, when Meredith had pointedly told her that Diesel had learned to knit. Dani hadn’t confirmed to Meredith that she knew Diesel had made the delicate shawl, but she had a feeling Meredith was aware that she knew.
Dani hadn’t thanked him. But she wore the shawl whenever she went out, and she knew he’d seen it around her shoulders. It allowed her to pretend that it was Diesel’s arm around her, instead of the lace he’d created with those big hands of his. I need to thank him. I need to acknowledge this beautiful gift. She met her own eyes in the mirror. I need to acknowledge the beautiful gift of his affection, too.
Even if she would never accept it. No matter how much she wanted to. Her dream had been the stark reminder she’d needed to shut down her fruitless desire to belong to him. Because, God help her, she still wanted to.
She closed the drawer and opened another, staring at the neatly folded, frothy lingerie. She didn’t touch the letter that she’d hidden under her best underwear. She didn’t have to. She knew its contents word for word. Short and bitter, they were Adrian’s last words and she’d forever hear them in his voice.
I said I was sorry, but you didn’t care. Are you happy now? I hope you’re a better doctor than you were a lover. Have a great life. Would have loved to spend it with you.
“Dr. Dani!” Joshua’s shout from the bottom of the stairs ripped her from her memories. “Breakfast!”
Yes. Breakfast. And then she’d have the discussion with Diesel that he wouldn’t like, but needed to hear. Find someone else. And she’d mean it this time.
She found everyone gathered around her table when she got downstairs. Adam and Meredith, Joshua—who was sneaking bites of bacon to a very grateful Hawkeye—and Michael. And Diesel, of course.
Diesel was dressed in jeans and a tight black Henley that showed off every one of his muscles. Unfortunately the long sleeves also covered most of his ink.
Which was good, she told herself. The ink was too much of a distraction. Too much of a turn-on.
She deliberately looked away from Diesel to her cousin, whose eyes were . . . worried. That was not a good sign.
“Good morning,” she said brightly, hoping the boys hadn’t seen Adam’s concern. “I see we have our own chocolate chip delivery service.”
Meredith laughed. “Only because Diesel promised to make pancakes,” she said, while Adam signed her words for Michael. She turned to speak directly to Michael, even though Adam was still interpreting, and Michael clearly noticed. Most people spoke to the interpreter, not the deaf individual. But Meredith had learned proper etiquette through her conversations with Greg. “I got hurt a little while back and Coach Diesel came to take care of me. He would always make me chocolate chip pancakes. His are the best.”
“How did you get hurt?” Michael signed and Adam voiced.
“I got stabbed by a very bad man,” Meredith told him.
Beside her, Adam winced. It had been a terrifying experience for both of them. It had also been when Diesel and Meredith had bonded, each becoming the sibling the other had never had. Dani had been a little envious of the time Diesel had spent at Meredith’s side, which had been foolish and selfish. He and Meredith were platonic friends, nothing more. Besides, she’d told Diesel to find someone else.
It didn’t seem like he’d listened to her. And you’re grateful. Say it.
Fine. I’m grateful. Even though she’d be repeating the directive as soon as they were alone.
“Well, yeah,” Joshua said, stuffing his mouth full with a last bite of pancake. “If he stabbed you, he was very bad.”
Michael frowned. “Close your mouth when you chew, Joshua.” He looked at Meredith with concern. “But you’re better?”
Meredith smiled at him. “I am. Michael, there’s a box by the front door. Can you take it to the basement? I brought some fun stuff for Joshua, a model airplane kit for you, and a few books, since I hear you like to read.”
Michael looked first to Diesel, then Dani for confirmation when Diesel just pointed to her.
I should probably be annoyed by that, but I’m not. Diesel had earned Michael’s trust. “It’s fine,” Dani assured him. “You can trust Meredith.”
Once the boys and Meredith were in the basement, Dani turned to Adam. “What happened?”
Adam scrubbed his palms down his face. “The fisherman is dead.”
It took Dani a moment, but when it hit her, she sank into the chair next to Diesel’s. “The guy who found the body parts?” She noted that Diesel looked grimly unsurprised. “They told you already?” she asked him.
Diesel nodded. “When I called to ask them to come over. You were still asleep, but I didn’t think you’d mind if I invited them.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Dani said, then turned to Adam. “Who was he?”
“His name was George Garrett,” Adam said. “He called 911 last night because there was an intruder in his house. Garrett had a gun, but he didn’t use it. His killer had a gun with a silencer. The entire altercation was caught on the 911 tape. Garrett told the guy, ‘I was afraid that you’d come.’”
Dani blinked in surprise. “So he saw who dumped the body parts?”
Adam shook his head. “No, or at least he told us he hadn’t seen him. But he was worried that the killer would come after him, even though we took pains not to leak his name to the press. I think he was speaking more generically when he said ‘you.’”
“Weren’t you protecting him?” Dani asked.
Adam sighed. “We had cruisers doing drive-bys, but it appears the killer was watching and timed his attack just after a cruiser had driven away. Garrett’s house had a security system, so he saw the alarm light go off when the killer broke in through his kitchen door. From the moment Garrett called 911 until the shot was fired was less than thirty seconds. The guy was in and out. A real pro.”
“So having an alarm system won’t help,” Dani murmured, suddenly chilled.
Diesel placed his big hand in the center of her back. “But having me here will. Garrett didn’t use his weapon. I will.”
She glanced at him wryly. “That shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does.”
“It should,” Diesel said seriously. “Adam, how many people know that Michael witnessed Brewer’s murder?”
New fear skittered down Dani’s spine. “Oh God. All those reporters outside the police station yesterday. They have Michael’s photo.”
Adam patted her arm. “The press thinks he was brought in on suspicion of Brewer’s murder. Not that many people know he saw the killer. Only the people who were in the room with you, plus Deacon, our boss Lynda Isenberg, the sketch artist, and me.”
“That’s too many,” Diesel growled. “That sketch Michael gave to your artist was online last night and on the TV news this morning. Brewer’s killer knows that someone saw him. Or he will as soon as he opens his computer or turns on the TV. What are you going to do to keep the kids safe? To keep Dani safe?”
Dani’s heart melted a little more. She and her foster sons were not Diesel’s responsibility. At least they shouldn’t have been. But Diesel had made them so.
Adam lifted a shoulder in fake nonchalance. “When a reporter assumed that George Garrett had given us the sketch, we might or might not have corrected him. When they asked us if we’d taken Michael into custody for the murder, we might have said, ‘No comment.’ Now all the reporters assume it was Garrett who saw the killer. The press still thinks Michael is a suspect in Brewer’s murder—a fact that was helped by his mother’s fifteen minutes of fame. Unfortunately, because of the mother, the press also knows that the kids went to foster care, so then we had to let them think we’d put him in protective custody in a safe house. Which is why you don’t have reporters camped on your front lawn, so you’re welcome for that.”
Dani looked at Diesel, saw that he was once again unsurprised. “What did their mother tell the press?”
Diesel’s jaw was so tight it was a wonder he didn’t break his teeth. “She got out on bail this morning. First thing she did was sell an interview to a gossip rag about how her son had killed her husband and abused her as well. She identified Michael by name, so now the various news outlets are replaying her words. Some claim that they can divulge the name of the minor because he’s already been exposed.”
Rage boiled from Dani’s gut to her throat. “Bitch. I hope I don’t meet her.”
Diesel wasn’t finished. “She also said that she was going to fight for her son.”
Dani scoffed. “By accusing him of lying when he reports abuse, starving him, and throwing bowls at his head?”
Diesel shook his head. “She meant she was going to fight for Joshua. To get him back.”
Dani felt a sudden calm. “Over my dead body.”
Adam frowned. “Don’t say things like that.”
Dani turned on him. “She will not take that baby back. I might not be able to keep them long term, but she will not get either of them back.”
“Ditto,” Diesel said grimly.
“Hey, I’m on your side,” Adam said. “I’m just preparing you. Right or wrong, judges will sometimes give the kids back to the biological parent.”
Dani nodded, still trembling with anger. “I know that, but thank you. Forewarned is forearmed.”
“Are the boys and Dani safe here, Adam?” Diesel asked.
Adam gave him a kind smile. “If you’re here? Absolutely. If you need to go anywhere, call me and we’ll get someone else to stand guard.” He pushed away from the table. “Meredith has her own car, so she can leave when she’s ready. I need to get back to work. Deacon and I have victims’ families to inform.”
Dani shuddered on his behalf. She knew the toll that speaking to victims’ families took on her cousin and brother. “How many?”
Adam suddenly looked older. “They’ve identified seven people from the parts divers brought up. I don’t know if there will be more. They haven’t identified all the parts yet.”
The thought of the bodies didn’t make her sick, but the thought of that man just walking into Joshua’s room? She had to steel herself so that she didn’t throw up.
“God,” she whispered. If the bald man who’d killed Brewer really was the same one who’d bought his house without paying for it . . . That man had killed six others? Why? Thoughts of all they’d learned the night before flooded her brain.
What did this have to do with LJM, the UC med student?
She stole a glance at Diesel and saw he was giving her a “say nothing” look. So he hadn’t told Adam what they’d uncovered. She wondered why.
She’d find out before she blew the whistle and told her cousin herself.
Walking Adam to the door, she reached up to give him a hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You, too,” he murmured in her ear. “And I don’t know what is or is not happening between you and Diesel and it’s not my business. But he’s a good guy, okay? Let him stay. I’ll feel better if he’s here to keep you safe.”
She felt her cheeks heat as she rocked back on her heels. “No, it isn’t your business, but I agree and I will let him stay.”
“Good enough.” Adam dropped a kiss on her forehead, then paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Oh, I almost forgot. Faith is bringing Greg over later. He thought he could cheer Michael up. He also said he’d gather his schoolwork from his teachers and bring it by tomorrow.”
Dani smiled, pleased. “Excellent. It’ll be good for Greg, too. Maybe they can do homework together and I won’t have to nag Greg so hard to do his.”
Adam laughed. “Good luck with that. ’Bye, Diesel!” he called over his shoulder.
Dani shut and locked the door behind him.
“Arm the alarm,” Diesel said.
She jumped a little because he was right behind her. “I didn’t hear you come over here,” she said, doing as he’d instructed. Now that they knew this killer could move faster than an alarm would sound, it was prudent to take extra precautions.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He reached a tentative hand toward her hair. When she didn’t stop him, he pushed it aside. “No processor?”
“I don’t wear it in the house normally,” she said. Which was why she hadn’t heard him. Without her processor, she was completely deaf on her right side.
“Do me a favor. Put it on. I want you aware of every sound possible.”
Right, she thought. Completely deaf on one side, I’m more vulnerable. She took her processor from her pocket and slipped it onto the back of her head, where it fixed to her skull with a small snap, all while Diesel continued to hold her hair.
“It’s a snap,” he said, curiosity in his tone. “Not held by a magnet?”
She fought a wince. She hated the snap, but it was a feature of the processor. “Cochlear implant processors are magnetized, but they’re only for people who are profoundly deaf. This is a Baha processor, because I have hearing on one side.” She turned it on. “I’m not hearing everything you can, but more than I would have.”
“Good.”
“Um . . . You can let go of my hair now.”
He grinned down at her. “Do I have to?”
She laughed and swatted his hand away. “Yes.” Then she sobered. “You didn’t tell Adam about LJM and all the other businesses and that someone bought Brewer’s house a week before he was killed.”
“No, not yet. First, he didn’t ask me. But mostly because we don’t know anything for sure yet. If I showed him what I had, it would taint his investigation because it’s information I got without a warrant.” He shrugged. “Y’know, illegally.”
She ignored his last statement. “Will you tell him?”
“If he asks me directly, yes. And when we get a name to go with whoever LJM is, or was.”
“And her Brothers Grim,” Dani added.
“Especially them. Especially if one of them turns out to be big and bald.” He tugged her hand. “Come on, you need to eat breakfast.”
She let herself be pulled back to the kitchen. “Are you going to make me a chocolate chip pancake, Coach?”
He was headed for the stove, but turned to face her, his expression earnest. His voice dropped an octave, like crushed velvet stroking her skin. “I would make you anything you wanted.”
Her mouth opened on a silent “Oh.” Tell him. Tell him that this will never work. Tell him to find someone else. But her mouth wouldn’t form the words.
He grinned again. “But for this morning pancakes will have to do.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed again. “While you’re cooking, I’m going to call Jeremy O’Bannion. He teaches a class at the med school.” Marcus O’Bannion’s father had been a skilled surgeon before burns from a car accident had scarred his hands. Now he taught others. “He might remember an LJM.”
Diesel hesitated. “I might have already asked him.”
Her brows shot up. “Oh, really? Might have?”
He looked sheepish. “You slept really late, Dani.”
She hadn’t slept all that late. “Did you sleep at all?”
“As much as I normally do. Jeremy is checking and said he’d call if he found the name we’re looking for.”
As much as I normally do was not a real answer, but she let it go when another thought occurred to her, one that really should have occurred to them both the night before. “We should check missing-person reports and newspaper articles for the death of a med school student. It wasn’t that long ago.” She frowned. “We should have heard about it in the news, actually.”
She was reaching for her phone to check when Diesel put a cup of tea on the table in front of her. “I looked,” he said. “There was nothing in the news. No mention of any missing med students with the initials LJM. No missing med students period.”
Well, shoot. She’d been so sure last night. It had made so much sense.
“Is . . . Is it okay?” Diesel asked from where he stood at the stove, pointing his spatula at the tea.
She took a sip of the tea. It was the same blend she’d made for him the night before. “Oh, yes,” she said sourly. “It’s made perfectly, too.”
Of course it was.
He looked confused and she realized that she was glaring at him. “I’m sorry. I’m not irritated with you. Exactly.”
“Sounds like it,” he muttered, but because he’d insisted she wear her processor, she heard him.
“It’s not you,” she repeated. “It’s just that you’ve been so damn productive while I’ve been lazy and sleeping.”
He flipped a pancake. “Is this a competition?” he asked mildly.
She blew out a breath, sending her hair flying back from her face. “Of course it isn’t. Except when it is, but that’s just me and not your fault,” she said firmly.
He plated two pancakes and set them in front of her. “Except when it is my fault,” he said. “I haven’t been in a relationship before, but I know how this thing works. When in doubt, it’s always the guy’s fault.”
She should have been distressed that he’d called this odd thing between them a relationship, but she found herself chuckling. “Adages exist for a reason.” She tasted the pancakes and couldn’t stop the low moan that hummed from her throat. “You’re a good cook, too?”
He shrugged, his muscles flexing. “I like to eat, so I took lessons.”
“In your vast amounts of spare time,” she said dryly, noting with interest that his cheeks darkened, his blush charming her. Diesel Kennedy was a dangerous man. I want him. I don’t want to, but I do.
God, please don’t let me hurt him.
Straightening her spine, she shifted her train of thought back on track. “Maybe she isn’t dead, then. LJM, I mean.”
“Oh, I think you were right. I’m pretty sure she’s dead.”
When he said no more she gestured with her fork, as if she was conducting an orchestra. “Because?”
His big hands clutched one of her stoneware mugs. “Remember I said that those last three companies had been established later than the others?”
“Yeah. Seaheaven with the Lake Erie coordinates and the other with the remembrance flowers. Lilies, rosemary, and poppies. Plus the Brothers Grim.”
“Exactly. They were established at the same time as Raguel Management Services, last June.”
“Nine months ago. Okay. And?”
“More like but. Do you know what I mean by parent and child companies?”
She made a face. “I’m a doctor, Jim, not a business manager,” she said, pleased when his warm chuckle told her that he’d caught her Star Trek reference. “But it sounds like the parent is first and the child is connected, like a franchise.”
“That’s exactly what it means, Bones,” he said, smiling when she smirked. “LJM is the main parent company in this mess. Raguel was formed by LJM, so Raguel is a ‘child’ of LJM. All of the other companies are ultimately connected to either LJM or Raguel, but most list one of the other companies as the parent. Some of the companies are parents of the other children. That’s how it got so tangled up. You have eighty companies all tied to each other in different ways.”
“Got it. Tangled. But who formed LJM?”
He nodded in approval. “Good question. LJM was formed by Raguel, two months before Raguel was formed.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How is that possible?”
“It shouldn’t be. I checked the documents attached to Raguel and found that it had a name change in June. Raguel’s previous name was LJM S&R, which was established in January, so before all the others. When Raguel was formed in May, LJM changed the name of its parent company from LJM S&R to Raguel. I’m not sure why it wasn’t caught by the small business office in Columbus, but it wasn’t.”
“LJM S&R. Search and rescue,” Dani murmured. “Was it a search and rescue business?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I can’t find any mention of it online.” And he’d searched all night for one. “Plus, it was only active from January to June.”
“When the name was changed to the angel of vengeance.” She rubbed her temples. This was like a circular puzzle made of only one color. “If we take the business name as another clue, we can assume that LJM went missing, probably in January last year. Why would someone need a company to search for a missing person? I guess they might if they hired a private detective or something and wanted to keep their spending separated from their day-to-day accounts for tax reasons. Is that possible?”
“Yes. But I wouldn’t know for sure without seeing their financial records, and I haven’t figured out where to start with that. This is a tangled-up mess.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she said, confident that he would. “But the name change itself is the most significant thing. Whoever was searching for LJM stopped searching. They established Raguel, Seaheaven, and the Rosemary & Poppies businesses because they knew she was dead.”
He nodded. “Then their mission became vengeance.”
“You couldn’t find any record of a missing med school student? No police reports or newspaper articles or anything?”
“Nothing. Of course, this might be because there was no med school student who went missing, then died. This tangled-up mess of companies could be completely unrelated to Brewer and the bald man and Michael.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No, I don’t. We know that LJM and Brewer are linked, both through Brewer’s house and through the copy of LJM’s bank statement on Brewer’s hard drive. What we don’t know is if or how any of this mess”—he waved at his computer screen—“connects to Brewer. That LJM was a real person feels . . . right, though.” Another shrug of his shoulders, this one sad. “I want to believe that someone’s been actively looking for her. That someone missed her.”
She leaned close, her hand covering his before she could stop herself. “Then let’s find out who that someone is.”