“If you decide to run, you’re on your own,” Reed said to Brinley as she stood next to Brinley’s car.
“Are you sure this is the only way?” They’d talked to the point where it was apparent there was only one way to go and that was forward. Brinley had stopped crying and seemed to accept Wallace wanted her dead. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but I’m worried about my mom. She won’t know and this will devastate her.”
“Your mom—” Her phone rang. She put her finger to her mouth and answered it. “Hey.”
“Are you done?” Oscar asked, and he didn’t sound quite normal.
“Almost,” she said, glad that the baby was in his car seat. After his nap he’d been really vocal, and it was surreal having a kid in her private space. All she needed now was a puppy and a prom date to complete this bizarre day. “I’m doing some cleanup, and I don’t have a lot of time.”
“How about the kid?”
That explained why he sounded off. “I didn’t want to, but it couldn’t be helped. Don’t worry though, they won’t be found.”
“Are you okay?” As always, Oscar was her friend no matter what she’d done.
“It wasn’t what I wanted, buddy, believe me, but I’ll survive. I’ll call you later today.”
“Do you need help?”
“Enjoy your night.” She stared at Brinley while she lied to the one person she’d never done that to. “You don’t want any part of this, and I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Call me, then.”
“Tomorrow, Oscar. I need some time.” She put the phone in her pocket and took a deep breath. “Your mom’s got to sell her reaction or this won’t work. I don’t know her, but that gut reaction will make or break us.”
“Us?” Brinley asked in a higher pitch.
“My job was to kill you. The man who hired me expects that to happen, and if it doesn’t, there’s no do-over. They’re going to need proof. They don’t just dock my pay if I don’t get something done.” She opened the driver’s side door and waited. “The next part is up to you.”
“I’m totally crazy for doing this, but let’s go.” Brinley got in.
“Do you have any questions?” The remark about being crazy was on the money, but Reed had committed.
“I’ll follow you, but I won’t tailgate,” Brinley said, repeating the directions for the sixth time.
The Suburban in the space next to the camper had tinted windows, which would help for later, but the next hour would be all about trust. It was a strange concept to trust someone she’d only just met, but that was at the center of how to get out of this alive. Reed drove the speed limit and refused to glance in the rearview mirror, since doing so would convince her just how ludicrous this was.
Granted, she had enough money to sit and watch the golfers all day for the rest of her days, but she wasn’t ready to retire. And her retirement plan didn’t include a bullet to the head for either her or Oscar.
She slowed and turned onto the road where she’d brought Brinley that morning and stopped at the line of rocks. There was no moon, so the only light slicing through the darkness were the headlights from their vehicles. As far as the world was concerned, this was where Brinley and Finn Myers would die.
Brinley got out and stared at her with glassy eyes. The tears were close again and Reed wondered if they were from second thoughts. “Problem?”
“I was thinking on the way over here what would’ve happened to us if whoever killed Naomi had been hired to kill me instead. This sucks and is totally out of my norm, but I thank God you were the one sent.”
“Believe me, if there is a God, he has nothing to do with me. And if he does exist, he’s a cruel son of a bitch.” Reed wasn’t about to let this woman think there was anything good about the situation. They weren’t friends. She was a mistake that Reed needed to rectify, but in a way she could live with.
“I don’t see it like that at all.”
“You don’t deserve to die—that’s all this is about.” She stopped Brinley from saying anything else and walked away to get what she needed out of her car. “Leave the car seat.”
“I don’t have another one,” Brinley said, as if she’d lost her mind for suggesting such a thing.
“It has to be there when the cops find this, so leave it. You’re going to have to sit in the back and hold him. I know it’s not what you want, but it beats the alternative, doesn’t it? And before you ask, you know what the alternative is.”
The car seat and the diaper bag were in the car when Reed rigged it to crash into the rocks. Brinley flinched when the impact echoed through the desert, but then the silence returned. “I just finished paying for that,” Brinley murmured as Finn rested his head on her shoulder and stared at the demolished car.
“Sorry, but it’s the only way to throw the wolves off your scent. If you’re dead, the people who wanted you that way relax, and relaxation is the first step on the road to sloppy.” She removed the stick that held down the accelerator and doused the car in gasoline, leaving the can in the back next to Finn’s car seat.
“Is that it?” Brinley asked.
Reed hesitated before removing the switchblade. “Not quite.”
“Have you changed your mind?” Brinley pulled Finn tighter to her, her eyes wide with fear.
Reed shook her head in an effort to avoid any more hysterics. “We have to do a bit more staging, so put the kid in the car.” She waited for Brinley by the wrecked vehicle and tried not to make any sudden movements when Brinley joined her. “I need a little blood from you.”
“That’s not exactly like a cup of sugar,” Brinley said, crossing her arms over her chest. The way this woman vacillated from scared to indignant was almost humorous.
“Close your eyes.” The cut was fast but obviously not painless, since Brinley screamed when she made the cut to her forearm. “Hold your arm out,” she instructed, pressing Brinley’s back to her chest. “Relax.”
“You’d have to knock me unconscious to get me to relax.” Brinley held out her arm and droplets of her blood dripped into a small pool on the ground. “But tonight’s been traumatic enough, so that’s not a suggestion.”
She put her arms under Brinley’s and dragged her to the car, creating the tracks and trail of blood that would explain why the bodies weren’t in the car. Brinley held her breath when she picked her up and lifted her into the front seat to take care of the wound she’d caused. “How’s that feel?” she asked when she tied off the bandage.
“Thank you—it’s fine.”
“I’ll put you in the back with the kid.” She lifted Brinley and carried her to the back seat, not wanting any tracks as small as Brinley’s on the ground. She forced herself not to think of the way Brinley’s body felt cradled against her. It was irrelevant. Even if it felt…right.
It took over forty minutes to leave only the clues she wanted found, and she changed shoes three times while she worked. All that was left was to torch the car and drive away. By now the car she’d left at the day care most probably had been found, but it’d come back stolen and the doctor it belonged to would lead nowhere. Every job was about misdirection that led away from her. A stolen vehicle that could only be traced to an upstanding citizen was the first dead end the cops would find.
While she worked, she thought about the situation. What in the hell would have spooked the casino so badly they would order hits on women who didn’t even know what they were looking at?
Reed worked through the little information Brinley had given her. If she could figure it out, there was a chance they could not only come out of this alive, but maybe, just maybe, she’d manage to get a little bit for her trouble too. Adrenaline coursed through her as she struck a match. She hadn’t played a game with stakes like these in a long time.
“What now?” Brinley asked when she got in and they watched the car burn.
“I’m off script, Ms. Myers, so I still have no good answer to that. Stay down and think about what could’ve landed you in my crosshairs, because just knowing the numbers are bigger than they should be isn’t enough. It’s a casino in Vegas, and that’s barely enough to make someone look up from their paperwork. Figure out what it is they think you know. That’s the only real way to get out of this.” She turned around and headed toward Henderson. Going home was probably a mistake, but what was one more on the pile?
“You know, I’ve read about people like you, but I figured I’d have a better chance at getting hit by lightning than meeting you.” Brinley lay on the back seat with Finn on her chest, sounding like she was thinking out loud.
“I’m mostly a thief, a damn good one, but I do special jobs like yours every so often.” She didn’t speed until she was on the interstate, then motioned for Brinley to be quiet as she dialed 911. “I just saw some big fire off the county road close to where you found that lady and kid today. It was too far off the highway, and I didn’t want to get shot.” She hung up and cleared her throat. “Let’s see what that shakes loose.”
* * *
“Has Francesco called back?” Paolo asked Diego after he’d returned from the funeral home with Sofia. They’d gone to drop off a suit for Victor to be buried in and to finalize the service arrangements and burial site.
“He thinks everything is settled. I know how he thinks, and to him we simply roll over and let them fuck us because I have no other choice.” Diego had been in a dark mood since they’d arrived at Sofia’s and it wasn’t improving.
“Sofia will need us for the next few days, so try to forget all that,” Paolo said, trying his best to calm his father.
“Wait until I talk to the other families and we get our shit from another supplier. Francesco was a middleman and nothing more.”
“Papa, leave the business alone for now and concentrate on getting through the funeral without looking like we’re happy this bastardo is dead.” Paolo shrugged. “The funeral home wanted to know if we’re covering the cost of the woman who died with him.”
“Was this guy trying to be funny?” Diego asked, frowning.
“I warned him about any other stupid statements,” he said, kicking his shoes off and putting his feet on the coffee table. “I asked who this woman was, and then the guy clammed up and said he couldn’t discuss it. He apologized and said he’d been confused about the arrangements.”
“Confused about what?” The way Diego asked made Paolo turn his head in his direction. His father seemed more interested than before. “What’s to be confused about?”
“I don’t know, Papa. The guy wouldn’t talk about it anymore, and we finished our business. By then both Sofia and I were ready to get out of there.”
“How much is all this setting me back?”
“Sofia knew better than to give Victor a world-class funeral. He’s lucky she didn’t settle for the cardboard box option.” He rubbed his eyes, ready to get some sleep before it got much later. He’d agreed to play golf with Lucan in the morning and the fucker had chosen an eight o’clock tee time, but they had to keep a foot in the door and play nice. “She agreed to pay and said you didn’t have to worry about it.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Sofia hated him, Papa, and that bullshit about working on her marriage was what she lied about. His death sounds like a legit accident, proving Victor was an asshole until his last breath.” He stood up and picked the shoes off the floor, suddenly hungry. “You want a snack before I go to bed?”
“Where’s your sister?” Diego asked as they left Victor’s home office and walked by the front stairs to the kitchen.
“She said she was tired and went up. I think this, added to Pietro’s and Gabriel’s hostility, is too much to handle.” He flicked the lights on and opened the refrigerator.
The kitchen was the only room in the house that wasn’t an ultramodern space, and he figured Sofia had designed it. His sister was many things, but she’d always loved to cook, having learned from their mother, and he had no problem imagining her here enjoying herself.
“The sooner we put Victor in the ground, the sooner we can clean up this mess. I’m shocked we haven’t heard from the girl’s family.” Diego sat at the breakfast bar and watched Paolo take stuff out and pile it on the marble counter. “She was nineteen, so they’re probably going to hit Sofia with some kind of legal action for wrongful death because she had her whole life in front of her,” Diego said sarcastically. “Never mind that she was in there partying with that fucker. It always comes down to the money.”
“I’ll take care of it if they try that.” He made two sandwiches and heated a frying pan with butter to toast them. “They should’ve been looking out for her, not trying to cash in after she’s dead. Besides, Ezra said she comes from a high-end neighborhood. How much more money do they need?”
“Ask Pietro and Gabriel that question.” Diego laughed. “A few weeks of slumming will change their tune, but don’t do anything about any of this without talking to me first.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that,” he said and the doorbell rang. It was after ten, and their guards had let the visitors—whoever they were—through, which meant the guards had no say in keeping them out. “Stay here, Papa,” he said.
“It’s the cops who called the house in New York, boss,” the guard said, entering before their visitors were allowed in.
“Open the door and put them in the living room,” Diego said, “and keep them there.”
“What do you think they want?” he asked, setting the food aside. “The investigation is done.”
“They’re here because they know all this is bullshit.”
The detectives were studying everything Paolo had brought from the funeral home and dropped on the coffee table when they joined them, and they didn’t seem to care that they’d been caught.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Diego asked when he took the wingback chair.
“Sorry for the late hour, but we’re split between this case and another murder on the Strip,” the older cop said. “This won’t take long.”
“What case?” Paolo asked, his eyes on his father. “My brother-in-law was an ass, but the girl had to know how old he was. I doubt he forced her.”
“He’s dead, but forced or no, the young woman did lead us somewhere. We’ve reopened the investigation to make sure Mr. Madison’s death really was an accident,” the old cop said.
“You think someone fucked him to death?” Paolo asked and Diego joined him in laughing. “Our family wants to put this to rest. My sister’s been humiliated enough, and I refuse to let it go on.”
“It’s your sister we’d like to talk to,” the young guy said.
“Did you not hear what my son said?” Diego asked in that cold voice Paolo had heard through the years that foretold someone’s death.
“Sir, I understand you’d like to protect her, but this time it’s not voluntary,” the older guy said calmly.
The cop didn’t project fear or any sign he was intimidated, and that solid confidence made Paolo nervous.
“If you’d like to call your attorney as a way of making you feel better, we’ll be happy to wait, but I need to talk to her. I’d rather do it here and not at the station.”
“Paolo, go get your sister, and let’s see what this is about. My daughter has nothing to do with this and doesn’t need to hide behind an attorney.” Diego locked eyes with Paolo. There was nothing else he had to say to be understood. All that would happen next was them listening and not talking.
“Thank you, sir,” the older cop said.
“You can stop with the act, Detective. I’ve got enough experience with police, and I know you don’t have my best interest in mind.” Diego leaned back, missing his leather chair back home. Nothing in this house was his style, and his plan was to sell it unless Sofia wanted to stay.
“Maybe that means you need to reevaluate your life if you have that much interaction with the police,” the young guy said. “Most of the people we meet don’t have that problem.”
“What’s your name?” Diego asked.
“Detective Corey Grant, and this is Detective Andrew Wamsley.”
“For a man with a name I’d give a Chihuahua, you make a lousy counselor. I have no intention of changing my life.” He smiled and stopped talking until his children came down.
They all looked toward the stairs as Paolo came down a little in front of Sofia. “Mrs. Madison, I’m Detective Andrew Wamsley. We realize this has been a trying few days, but we need to ask you a few questions.”
It was obvious to Diego the older detective was now firmly in charge.
“If any of your questions are about the girl Victor was with, I don’t know anything about her. We were having problems because he was having an affair with his secretary. I knew about it, we talked it over, and we decided it wasn’t something either of us was willing to give up our marriage over.” Sofia showed enough emotion to be believable and gave just enough information that it took her out of the suspect pool if there was one.
“Did you know Victor was planning to divorce you? Maybe he was in a different place than you.”
The comment made Sofia flinch, but she didn’t bite right away. “That’s news to me,” Sofia said finally. “He never told me.”
“We spoke to your sons, and he’d discussed it with them. His death prevented him from filing the paperwork, which is why your attorney, Mr. Brayden, has no record of it.”
“My sons aren’t happy with me, Detective, and I’m sure you’re aware of that since they tried to have my father and brother thrown out of here,” Sofia said, and it was bordering on too much information. Diego tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair as a warning to be quiet.
“Why do you suppose that is?” Grant asked, but it seemed more out of curiosity than any kind of question to trap her.
“Their father finally took an interest in them, but only to complain that I’d ruined his fun. I didn’t want to badmouth their father, and I won’t do that now. Eventually we’ll resolve our problems and move forward after all this.”
“What do you think was Victor’s biggest problem?” Grant asked.
Wamsley stared at Sofia long enough that Diego spoke up. “I haven’t heard a question that justifies you coming here so late.”
“We’re working up to that, Mr. Moretti,” Wamsley said.
“Do you need me to repeat the question, Mrs. Madison?” Grant asked.
“He died with a woman who wasn’t his wife, Detective. You can work your way down from there,” Sofia said.
“The woman Victor was with, did you know her?” Wamsley asked.
“Like I said, I have no idea who she was. What does that have to do with anything?” Sofia asked and Diego slightly shook his head.
“Her name was London Emerson,” Grant said, producing a picture of a pretty blonde. “Do you recognize her?”
“I’ve never seen her before in my life. Are you here because of her family?” Sofia looked again, but only for a second. “I had no idea my husband was capable of such bad judgment. The cheating was bad enough, but drugs too. Maybe it was this woman who forced him to do that.” Sofia handed him the picture back like it could burn her if she held it much longer.
“Mrs. Madison, our tech people went through Emerson’s phone and found quite a few references to you,” Grant said.
“She was sleeping with her husband, so that’s no surprise,” Diego said. “What were the texts about? If you’re only here to add to my daughter’s humiliation, you’re free to go.”
“That’s not what this is about at all,” Wamsley said, putting his hands up. “From a string of texts, it appears that London Emerson and your late husband”—he nodded toward Sofia—“were making plans to have you killed.”
“What?” both Diego and Paolo said together.
“Is this a joke?” Sofia paled. “Victor and I were having problems, but nothing bad enough to kill me over.”
Andrew handed over a few pages for her to read, but the names had been redacted, making it hard to tell who was saying what. “Why did you do this?” Sofia asked, handing the pages to Diego when he motioned for them.
“Read them and we’ll talk about that,” Wamsley said.
Sofia took them from Diego one by one as he made his way through the pages. “Victor didn’t write these,” Sofia said when she was done. “For some of the sex mentioned here, Victor doesn’t qualify.”
“You’re right, but since this is still an open investigation, we can’t comment on who Emerson was exchanging those with. Victor was in total agreement with her, as you can see from the last page. Lucky for you he died before he was able to carry those plans through.”
“What’s your question then?” Sofia asked, her grief seeming to be on hold for the moment.
“No one would blame you for having Victor killed.” Grant smiled. “The court would probably consider it self-defense.”
“Do you?” Sofia asked and Diego leaned forward, ready to interrupt her. “The only problem with your theory is, I had no clue this girl existed until she died with Victor. The only intrigue I’m involved in is where to have lunch with my friends.” Sofia seemed like she was about to cry, and Diego almost laughed. “I’ve had a hard week, and now you tell me Victor wanted me dead. Don’t add to that by telling me you think I’m a suspect.”
“Are you sure we won’t find any clue along the way that would connect you to all this?” Wamsley asked, placing the papers back in his folder. “This is your chance to come clean.”
“If that’s all, you’re free to leave my house,” Sofia said, and both men hesitated, then followed Paolo when he led them out.
“Cara, I hope you understand now what I’ve been trying to tell you. Just because Victor’s gone doesn’t mean you’re out of danger,” Diego said. “I couldn’t give a crap if you had anything to do with this, but some people might not be so forgiving.”
“Victor’s dead, Papa, and the rest doesn’t have anything to do with me.” She stared at the floor, tears sliding down her face.
He’d always known when she was lying, from the moment she first tried it when she was a little girl. There was no question now. “You’ve been in this damn town too long if you want to take a gamble that big.”