Chapter Fourteen

During the drive to Rumson, they barely exchanged three sentences, and that was okeydokey with Kade. His brain was on overload.

Executing a search warrant inside Laia’s mouth hadn’t been the plan, but when she’d looked up at him, so forlorn and at her wits’ end, his heart had cracked wide open, and his lips had taken a walk all by themselves and unerringly found the way to her mouth.

At the time, he’d told himself he’d done it because he didn’t have any response that could possibly alleviate her fears. Colon would keep coming until he found what he was after. If he didn’t find it, Kade had no doubt the powerful drug lord would mow over anyone who either got in his way or was useless to him and had to be discarded. Including Laia and Rosa.

But if Kade was truthful with himself, that wasn’t the only reason he’d kissed her.

Where Laia was concerned, he was weak. He’d successfully managed to avoid her for two years. In the span of less than three days, all his efforts went down the drain faster than flushing the toilet. The brain inside his skull kept reminding him in no uncertain terms to keep his distance. His other brain was failing him. Bigtime.

He took the turn onto Laia’s former street, at the end of which was her former house—the one she’d lived in with his brother.

The SUV’s tires crunched on the sparkling white stone driveway that had to be a hundred yards long. That was more than enough white marble stone to fill an Olympic-size swimming pool.

He continued past the neatly pruned boxwoods, the perfectly manicured lawn dotted with pine trees and decorative Japanese maples, to the circular parking area in front of the house, then parked behind a shiny red Mercedes AMG GT Roadster. The last issue of Road & Track he’d flipped through listed the starting price of that car at a mere $130K.

Laia peered out the window at the massive three-story gray stucco house. Unbeknownst to her, Kade had driven by many times after Josh died and before she’d been forced to move. Just checking up on her, he’d told himself at the time. He’d sat at the end of the driveway in his vehicle under the cover of darkness, much like a criminal would, ironically, but he’d never driven up to the house. Never had the balls to knock on the door.

She took a deep breath, as if to fortify herself. Laia had been forced out of this beautiful mansion most people would never have the opportunity to live in. Now she was living in one half of a rented duplex. Coming back here after all this time had to be difficult, but the expression of sadness and longing he’d expected wasn’t there. Something else was, although he couldn’t put his finger on precisely what.

“Are you anxious about going inside?” If she was, he and Smoke could do this alone.

“Yes. And no.” She continued staring out the window, taking in the long porch with its dozen or so white square columns, the second-story balcony with its arched windows, and finally, to the enormous twin chimneys.

“It must have been something to live in a place like this.” Behind the house, he could just make out the Navesink River and the long wood dock where Josh had tied up his sailboat. “There have to be some good memories here to go along with the bad.” Standing by helplessly while federal agents tossed your house couldn’t have been easy.

“Some.” Her brow creased. “Life here with Josh…wasn’t easy.”

Huh?

Aside from that one little flicker of doubt he’d seen on her face the day of her wedding—one he’d ultimately attributed to wedding-day jitters—he’d always assumed Josh and Laia had a marriage that books were written about. Perfect couple. Perfect home. Perfect little girl.

Although in truth, he’d never really understood that term—wedding-day jitters—because if he ever proposed to someone, there’d be no doubt in his mind about spending the rest of his life with that person.

Especially if that person was Laia.

“What do you mean life with Josh wasn’t easy?” he asked because he couldn’t not ask.

“At first things were okay, I guess. I suppose every couple has issues.” The crease on her forehead deepened. “Ours were just…different.” She cleared her throat and smiled, although it most definitely never made it to her eyes. “Let’s go in.”

Without waiting, she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door.

Ookay. Conversation over, clearly, although his curiosity was pinging like crazy.

He grabbed Smoke’s leash, then stepped outside. The hot, humid air slammed into him. Rosa’s idea of heading to the beach later was a no-brainer.

Kade popped Smoke’s door, then hooked on the leash. He wagged his tail as Laia approached, then wagged it faster when she bent to stroke his ears. She really would make a great vet. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said that.

“I’m not sure the Sandersons will appreciate a dog in their home,” Laia said.

Before leaving Asbury Park, Kade had a run a quick check to see who owned the house now. Mr. Bryan Sanderson and his wife, Jennifer.

“Then I’ll have to convince them,” Kade said. “I want Smoke to check the inside for hidden currency.”

“Currency? I thought he was a drug dog.”

“He is, but very often currency associated with drug transactions has drug particles on it, the odor of which can be detected by a trained narcotics K-9. I’m sure the house was thoroughly searched during the warrant. Like I said, they didn’t have Smoke.”

Hearing his name, Smoke woofed softly.

Kade went to the door and pushed the doorbell button. Twenty seconds later, the door opened but not all the way. A middle-aged woman with short blond hair and wearing a sleek blue top and matching pants stood there, her face somewhat distraught.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

He flashed his badge. “Mrs. Sanderson, I’m Officer Sampson. I’m with the Department of Homeland Security. May we come in and speak with you?”

The woman looked from Kade to Laia, then her eyes dipped to Smoke sitting at his side. “I don’t understand. What interest could the Department of Homeland Security have in this? I already told the police everything I know.”

He glanced at Laia, then back to Mrs. Sanderson. “Know about what?”

“This.” The woman opened the door the rest of the way and stepped aside.

Laia sucked in a breath. Kade catalogued the interior of the vestibule and what he could see of the adjoining two rooms. Papers were strewn everywhere, furniture pillows lay on the floor, their stuffing littering the expensive-looking rugs and marble tile. Other pieces of furniture lay overturned. Lamps and sculptures lay broken on the floor.

“We came home Friday night to this.” Jennifer Sanderson’s voice shook as she swept her arm, encompassing the room, then indicated the wide stairway. “It’s the same upstairs. Every single room is in shambles. I just couldn’t stand being here, so we’ve been staying at a hotel for the last few days.”

Laia went to her and rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I understand exactly how you feel, Mrs. Sanderson. Not too long ago, my house was burglarized. To say it was upsetting is an understatement.”

Jennifer sniffled. “I feel like my privacy was invaded and I’ll never feel safe here again.”

“I know.” Laia nodded, meeting Kade’s gaze and conveying it all. She really did know.

He appreciated Laia’s discretion in not expanding on the fact that she used to live in the Sanderson’s house, although the implications were screaming in his head like a banshee.

The Sandersons’ house had been burglarized the day before Laia’s, suggesting that Fernando Colon had sent his goons here first, and when they didn’t find the ledger or Josh’s cash, they moved on to Laia’s duplex, then tracked her to Kade’s house. He also had to consider that they could have found the cash or the ledger but probably not both. Otherwise they wouldn’t have broken into the duplex or followed her to his place.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Kade said, taking in what he could see of the dining room with its overturned table and broken legs—the room where Josh and Laia once ate together as a family.

Feeling like a voyeur, he swallowed the rising growl of disgust in his throat. “Mrs. Sanderson, was anyone hurt during the break-in?”

“No, thank God.” She shook her head, her relief a palpable thing. “My husband was at work, and I was out shopping. Our children are both home from college for the summer but were out working at their summer jobs.”

That, at least, was good news.

From personal experience, Kade knew the Colon Cartel was comprised of a variety of people with a multitude of specialties. Some had no criminal record at all. Yet. Others had been imprisoned for violent crimes that had left a river of blood and a trail of bodies in their wake.

“What did the police have to say?” He planned to speak with the Rumson PD’s chief himself, not only to hear it directly from her but to inform the department of the likely connection between the two burglaries.

“Not much, really.” She pointed to a tiny camera on the wall over the door. “We have a complete security system with cameras that were supposed to activate any time the alarm is triggered. The police think the burglars knew exactly where the feed wires were and cut them before they broke in. The only thing retained in the video memory of any use is what was recorded before they cut the wire.”

“And what was that?” Kade asked.

“A cable company van pulling up outside.”

No shock there.

The cable company van was the common thread connecting this burglary to the one at Laia’s duplex and to the attempted break-in at his own house. “May I see the video?”

“Of course. Come in.”

After they’d gone inside, Kade closed the door behind them. Mrs. Sanderson hadn’t so much as twitched at Smoke setting foot in the house. An enormous crystal chandelier hung over their heads, the light from which made the tiny specks in the pure white floor tile—Italian marble, Josh had once told him—glitter like shards of ice.

Mrs. Sanderson went to a table in the vestibule, one of the only pieces of furniture that wasn’t broken or still upside down. She pulled a cell phone from her purse, then began scrolling through it. “Here it is. The camera outside the door was triggered when the van pulled up.” She handed the phone to Kade, who held it out for Laia to watch, too.

A white van with a rectangular green sign attached to the passenger door parked by the front stoop. Somerset Cable Company, the same company name on the photos and video that Ashley took outside his house. Only this time, the entire license plate was legible. C90 EMZ.

Kade pulled out his own phone and tapped the tag into a note page. He assumed the Rumson PD had already run the plate, but he’d do it again anyway.

The remainder of the thirty-second video showed two men wearing jeans and matching green shirts with the Somerset Cable logo getting out of the van. Both wore ball caps pulled down low so their faces were almost completely obscured from the cameras, telling Kade they’d cased the house and knew precisely where the cameras were. And they wore gloves. Even if the PD had dusted for prints, he had no doubt that would be a dead end.

One of the men pushed the doorbell. After about twenty seconds, he pushed the doorbell again and knocked. The other man stood guard with his back to the camera and looking out at the driveway. Eventually, when no one came to the door, they both went to the corner of the house behind the bushes.

Kade pointed to the same corner. “Is that where your utility lines come into the house?”

Jennifer nodded. “Yes. The police said that even if we had locked the electrical box, they probably just would have broken off the lock or found some other way to get the cover off.”

“They’re probably right,” Kade agreed. If a burglar had the skills and wanted to break in, there was no stopping them.

Jennifer’s voice trembled. “I don’t understand why they had to destroy practically everything in the house. They made such a mess that I can’t even tell if they took anything.”

He handed the phone back. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“What are you looking for, exactly?” she asked.

Kade exchanged a quick look at Laia.

Drugs. Cash. The missing ledger that could put a dangerous drug lord in prison for the rest of his life. “Anything that might give us some leads on who these people really are.” Not a total lie, but hardly the truth, either.

“I suppose it’s all right.”

“Do you mind if my partner comes with us? He’s a trained K-9.”

Mrs. Sanderson looked longingly at Smoke. “May I pet him?” When he nodded, she did. “Our Daisy, a Golden Retriever mix, passed away two years ago. We were about to get another dog. I’m so glad we didn’t yet. He or she would have been home when the burglars broke in.”

Kade could only nod in sympathy. “Smoke.” His dog perked up his ears. “Search.”

Smoke put his nose to the expensive marble tile, sniffing and circling, then moving into the dining room. Laia and Mrs. Sanderson followed closely behind.

“This is fascinating,” Mrs. Sanderson said. “I’ve never seen a police dog at work.” She uttered a sad laugh. “And I certainly never expected to see one in my own house. He might smell Daisy. We’re still finding her gold hairs tucked away here and there.”

“That’s okay,” Kade answered over his shoulder. “Smoke can work around that.”

He allowed Smoke the full length of his leash and followed his dog into the massive kitchen, with its black granite center island, pricy Thermador appliances, and another crystal chandelier, this one smaller than the VW-size one in the vestibule. Smoke circled the entire room, sniffing, his tail whipping back and forth as he processed scents.

Kade allowed Smoke to set the pace, following him back through the dining room, the vestibule, two smaller rooms, then into a large study with an antique oak desk, dark red leather furniture, and high shelving crammed with books.

A lump formed in the back of his throat. This had been Josh’s office. He could imagine his brother sitting at a similarly impressive desk, working on papers, reviewing bank documents and…

Laundering money for a drug cartel.

Laia’s face was a blank mask, and it was so obviously not normal for her, since he’d figured out that she generally wore her emotions on her sleeve. The only indication she was struggling being back in this house was her tightly clenched hands.

“May we go upstairs?” Kade asked.

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Sanderson led them back into the vestibule, waiting for them to head up the long spiral staircase first.

Smoke’s nails clicked as he went up the stairs, sniffing each one before moving on. At the top of the stairs, he pulled harder and led them into what had to be the master bedroom.

A king-size sleigh bed made of some unidentifiable yet expensive-looking light-colored wood sat against one wall. The beige bedspread and matching rug completed the creamy, soothing ambiance, but all Kade could think about was that this was where Josh and Laia had made love and conceived a beautiful little girl.

Through the bedroom window, the clear aqua water in the swimming pool shimmered in the late morning sun. Beyond that were the Navesink River and the Atlantic Ocean, a view that few could afford.

Smoke’s breathing grew louder. He strained harder at the leash until Kade gave him free rein. Smoke kept his nose to the ground, tracking directly to a brass HVAC vent in a corner of the wood floor.

Smoke sat and looked at Kade. His dog had just hit on something.

Kade knelt in front of the vent, trying unsuccessfully to peer through the slats to see whatever his dog had detected. “May I take this vent cover off?”

Normally, he’d need a search warrant, but since Mrs. Sanderson had agreed to them looking around, he was on solid legal footing. If what he hoped was down there actually was down there, he’d have her sign a consent form.

“I suppose so,” she answered. Not exactly a yes, but definitely not a no. He’d take that. “What kind of police dog did you say Smoke was?”

I didn’t.

Feeling as if they were about to overstay their welcome, Kade quickly slipped a folding knife from the pocket of his shorts and began prying off the cover, doing his best not to scratch the wood floor. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Sanderson.” He winked at the woman, sensing she needed reassurance that he wouldn’t drag her away in cuffs. “It’s probably just something of Daisy’s that fell through the slats.”

Not likely. Smoke loved bones and toys as much as the next dog, but when he was in work mode, he didn’t hit on them, and there was barely enough space between the vent’s slats for a piece of kibble to fall through. He knew his dog’s body language like he knew his own. Whatever was down there fell into one of two categories.

Narcotics or something tainted with narcotics.

He tugged off the brass cover. Two inches down and taped to the side of the vent tubing was a plastic baggie.

Jennifer Sanderson gasped. “Oh my God. What is that?”

Though she’d remained silent, Laia’s lips had compressed into a tight line.

“My guess,” he answered, holding the baggie up to the light. “Cocaine.”