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Jason stood staring out at the Boston skyline from his office window, his shot glass in his bandaged hand. When his office door opened behind him, he turned to face his most trusted hacker since Shatemuc. Beneath that baggy sweatshirt and jeans was a man few people knew anything about. He kept to himself, had no friends that Jason knew of, and was slightly agoraphobic. The man moved like liquid, all fluid motion. With his pale, brownish blond streaked hair, always dressed in tan and cream colors, he was nondescript in a way that made people look right through him. He gave new meaning to the phrase hide in plain sight.
But nobody hid from Seeker.
“You wanted to see me, boss?” came the low-voiced request.
Jason nodded. “Come in, Seeker.”
Seeker closed the door behind him and moved on silent feet to stand in front of Jason, his hands shoved in his pockets, his intelligent brown eyes quietly assessing his mood. His gaze flickered over Jason’s bandages and cuts without comment.
“I have a job for you, Seeker. I want you to find someone for me. His name is James Anais Denton. He’s dead.”
Seeker nodded. “The dead can take a little longer than the living, but I’ll find him. What do you want to know?”
“I want to know everything about him. I want to know if he changed his looks through plastic surgery, I want to know where he’s been since he died, I want to know where he is now, and I want to know what he’s up to. I want to know everything there is to know about that man from the time he was born, who his family was, who his first wife Tina Trenton was, and who her family was.”
“That deep?”
“I want to know what cartoon underwear he wore when he was five years old,” Jason ground out. “And most of all, I want to know if he’s reinvented himself as Simon Trask. If you can’t make that connection, I want to know who Simon is as well.”
“When do you want it?”
“Yesterday.”
“If he’s still alive, I’ll find him,” Seeker replied quietly, his eyes gleaming with the challenge.
“Call me as soon as you have something.”
Seeker nodded and ghosted from the room as invisibly as he came in.
Jason tossed back his shot and walked to the credenza for a refill. He was having a hard time keeping his personal feelings for Rebecca Hudson out of his opinion of Simon Trask. Gut instinct was telling him there was something off about Rebecca’s fiancé, and it wasn’t just jealousy on his part. The flash of fear and alarm he’d seen in the man’s eyes when Rebecca had introduced him as an FBI agent made all his protective instincts kick in. The man was hiding something, even if it was just a traffic ticket.
Once his view of who might have killed Shatemuc changed to his private eye clients, he fully believed his old friend had unknowingly kicked up a rock where a viper had lain in wait. It had to do with those cold cases, he was sure of it. Somehow those cases had triggered the events that were currently unfolding. He wasn’t about to let Rebecca become another tragic loss. Or April either, for that matter. The girl was tough, he’d give her that, but she wasn’t seasoned.
The police had come up with nothing regarding Bryan McMann. The fingerprints they had taken yesterday morning were mainly Ray’s and Bryan’s. There were a couple in his bathroom that had come back to clients of Bryan’s, but that was it.
Oddly enough, Simon’s fingerprints didn’t show up in Shatemuc’s office in the Clearwater police reports. They should have, since he, Ray and Shatemuc had all been there the night Shatemuc was killed. He frowned, thinking of the possibilities. Seeker should be able to come up with Simon’s fingerprints if he’d ever been fingerprinted. If not, then he needed to find a way to check the man’s fingers. Probably through Nat. Considering the fact the both of the cold cases had no fingerprints for their husbands, it was a possibility it could be connected.
The murder weapon that killed Bryan had been a heavy vase that matched a clean spot in the dust on his filing cabinet behind him, indicating he had known his killer well enough to allow him behind him while he was seated. It was clear he’d been killed at the desk.
Neither the thermostat nor the murder weapon had yielded fingerprints, which meant they had been wiped clean after use. It was a kill of convenience, unplanned, using the first weapon that had come to hand. Bryan had sprung up his own viper, and it had bitten him. The question was, who was it? And was it connected to Shatemuc? The police were already looking at Ray Wills.
Jason snorted in disgust and walked back to the window with his drink. He knew it wasn’t Ray, but the police lacked imagination and the case would probably wind up closed for lack of evidence. Without family or someone to push them, they had other cases that were waiting. And, sad to say, Bryan wasn’t anyone important and they had fires to put out.
Tense, he looked at his watch again. It was 10:20 pm. He was still waiting on DNA results from the lab on those samples from the bank deposit box. They’d promised him answers tonight. As soon as he knew something, he’d call Nat.
***
WHEN NAT PULLED UP behind April’s red Honda at the house, there was no one around. Not even Miller. Simon’s car was there though, so they knew he was inside with Rebecca.
“It seems peaceful enough,” April said, opening her car door. “I don’t even see Miller,” she teased.
Nat automatically swept the view as they stepped out into the night. The cicadas were shirring like crazy and the honeysuckle wafted up his nose on a delicate night breeze, but no homicidal maniacs were in sight. A shadow briefly flickered above them on the brick bridge and Nat’s head whipped up, his body tense. When nothing else moved, he concluded it must have been a tree branch moving in the wind. Still, he felt uneasy. “Is there a way to get up on that bridge patio without going through the house?” he asked as he tucked April protectively under his arm as they approached the house.
“Yes, there are stairs on the other side of the driveway where you can get into the yard on that side. Why?”
“No reason, just curious.”
“April? Is that you?” came a call from the living room as they stepped inside. Up ahead they could see lights flash and they knew Rebecca and Simon must be watching a movie or something.
“It’s us, Mom,” April called back.
Her mother appeared in the doorway. “You two want to watch a movie with us?” she asked with a smile.
“Uh...no thanks, Mom,” April replied. “I’m pretty tired and I think I’m going to go to bed early. You two have fun.”
“It’s only 10:00 pm, but then you know I’m a night owl,” Rebecca replied. “Okay, sleep well, darling. You too, Nat,” she added with a meaningful look at both of them.
Nat recognized that look. “I’m sure we will,” he interjected smoothly, hoping he looked innocent enough. Mothers were sharp where their daughters were concerned. He followed April up the stairway. He couldn’t wait for a break in this case so he could take April back to Revere and have some privacy. They really hadn’t had much time to talk about anything personal, he reflected.
When they reached April’s bedroom door he paused. “Are you really planning on reopening the agency?” he asked, pulling her elbow around to face him. “Are you going to work in Revere until then? Or stay here with your mother and find a job?”
The look she shot him told him he’d blindsided her with his questions and she didn’t have an immediate answer.
“Uh...well...she stammered. “Honestly, we’ve been reacting to one disaster after another and I really haven’t had time to think about it.” She fidgeted in his arms as he pulled her close. “Do you want me to work in Revere?” she asked breathlessly.
“Of course I want you to work in Revere,” he stated in no uncertain terms, landing a smack on her behind.
“Eep,” she squeaked, looking relieved.
Was she doubting their relationship?
“Look, little mess, I haven’t been looking for you for seven months just to say hi. I thought we both felt the same way. Was I wrong?” His eyebrow shot up in a commanding query.
She blushed then. “I-I did...I mean...I thought you did...I mean...I hoped you did...” She trailed off, getting redder. “Like...I can see how it might not seem that way to you, but I was undercover, researching my dad’s murder. I have a one-track mind when it comes to something I want,” she rattled on.
He let her babble on, starting to get amused until he finally bent his head and stopped the flow of excuses. When he raised his head she looked bemused, her features soft and submissive. Chuckling, he opened her bedroom door.
She came alive then. “Nat, wait. I-I think I might be coming down with a cold, so like...you don’t have to come in tonight after all,” she finished. “I don’t want you to catch anything, and besides, you’re right next door. I can yell if I need you.”
Nat frowned as he felt her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”
“No, but I have a headache and my stomach feels a little queasy. Maybe the seafood from earlier didn’t agree with me.”
“Well, okay, honey, if you’re sure,” he replied solicitously. He’d been going to ask April if she wanted to go snooping tonight, but now he didn’t mention it in case she wanted to go in spite of the way she was feeling. She needed rest if she felt sick. “Get some sleep. Hopefully, Jason will have some answers in the morning and we can go from there. And lock your door.”
“I will,” she agreed with a weak smile.
He waited until he heard the doorknob click, then went to his room where he quickly dressed in his dark clothing. He had plenty of it since snooping was one thing he did well. He even had a black under amour stocking cap that fit down over his ears to cover his hair. He’d already scoped out his window. Easy to get out of, down the oak limb to the tree trunk, and slip to the ground.
Just in case someone should look into his room, he put a couple of throw pillows under the blanket and roughed up the bed. All lights were turned out except the moonlight streaming in the window. With his cell phone on vibrate and his mini flashlight in his pocket, he peered out into the side yard where Miller was usually dragging his wheelbarrow and scanned the perimeter for a few minutes. Nothing moved. Rebecca didn’t have a dog. He should be all set.
Easing the window open, he made his way out and left it up a crack. Unless someone closed and locked it, he would come back in the same way. It was only minutes before he was standing at the base of the tree, looking at the driveway out front.
When he reached Simon’s car, the hood was cold to the touch. So was Rebecca’s, and April’s. His was still quite warm, which was expected.
Slipping like a shadow across the driveway to the opposite yard, he looked around the bottom of the brick bridge for the steps up. When he reached the patio, he looked cautiously out from beneath the branches that shielded the tables, keeping in the shadows. Moonlight gleamed off the metal edging of the two patio tables but nothing moved.
Across the brick floor of the bridge, he could see the French doors to the living room. Simon and Rebecca were sitting inside, laughing at something on the TV screen as they cuddled together, never realizing they were being watched at the moment. He wondered if Miller had been up here watching them when he and April had arrived?
Scowling, he turned around and headed towards the garden shed where the infamous wheelbarrow of dirt sat with the spade sticking out of it in the moonlight. It was unlocked.
Inside the shed, he looked around with his flashlight, not finding anything unusual. The door on the right opened into a garage of sorts that housed a newer style, no-turn lawnmower, a golf cart, and another empty space with tire tracks in it. The back door was open and faced across the yard expanse into Simon Trask’s property. Maybe Miller used golf carts to go back and forth between the homes instead of driving around. It was a much shorter distance this way than it would be to get into a vehicle and drive all the way around the road to Simon’s gated entrance.
Keeping in the shadows of the trees and shrubs, Nat followed the tracks at an easy lope across the property. April had told him that a small bridge actually connected the two properties, and it was obviously where Miller came back and forth. Nat was more exposed as he loped across Simon’s back acreage and finally found the end of the tracks at another shed similar to the one on Rebecca’s property. This one was much larger though, much fancier. There were three golf carts and an ATV parked inside the open-ended garden shed with various other mowers and machines. Letting himself into the office area through a side door, Nat looked carefully around.
The black eyepatches hanging on the tool board over the worktable caught his eyes immediately. So, Miller did occasionally wear an eyepatch. He snapped a picture then took the first one off the hook, the one that looked used, and stuffed it in his pocket.
There wasn’t much else to find but storage, various tools, auto supplies, and a desk. Flipping through the desk drawers, he found nothing of interest in the paperwork except that Miller’s first name was Henry. Apparently he ordered the supplies for Simon’s property from this work-center.
There was a map of the property beneath the plastic desk pad and Nat perused it with interest. There was a cottage labeled gardener’s home just to the right of these sheds.
Did Miller live on the property?
The main house was in the middle of the property, and there were two cottages on the far side labeled guest cottages. After snapping a picture of the map, Nat exited the building and headed towards the gardener’s cottage. It wasn’t far away.
There was a black chevy parked on the side drive and he laid his hand on the hood. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t hot either. He quietly lifted the lid and felt the radiator. It was definitely warm. He could feel the warmth from the rest of the engine when he waved his hand across the inside. This chevy had been driven recently.
“Looking for something?”
Nat whirled around and crouched, an automatic reflex. It was Miller staring coldly at him with his one good eye. He must be slipping to allow him to sneak up on him like that. When he realized Miller had no weapon he stood up straight. “I was out for a walk and got turned around.”
Miller grunted. “You’re that detective that’s here with April, aren’t you? Did he finally get someone to investigate Shatemuc’s death for her? No one would listen to her before.” He took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and offered one to Nat. When he refused, he took out his lighter and lit up one for himself.
“Did you drive this car tonight?” Nat asked suspiciously, surprised at this sudden friendly gesture.
Miller studied him for a moment before he replied. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t.”
“It’s been driven tonight, the engine is still warm.”
Miller shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette. “So? I’m not the only one who uses it.”
“So, someone tried to snatch April’s bag tonight at the restaurant when we finished eating. He was described as about your size, all dressed in black, and wearing an eye patch. I saw some in the gardeners shed.”
Miller started, his eyes narrowing in the moonlight, his face suddenly going pale. “So I wear an eye patch when I go out sometimes, it doesn’t mean I was there.” He ground the cigarette beneath his heel. “Unless you’re here to arrest me for something, don’t come back here, it’s not safe. I’d hate for anything to happen to one of April’s friends.”
That surprised Nat, the gruffness in his voice sounded like genuine concern. “If I said I was investigating Shatemuc, would you talk to me then?”
Miller hesitated, his eyes darting behind Nat and then back to his face. “It’s best to let sleeping dogs lie,” he snarled, “now go back where you came from and take April with you.” He spun on his heel and headed around the house.
Nat turned and loped back up the golf cart trail, stopping when he reach the tree cover. Turning back towards the gardener’s house, he saw another man standing near Miller’s car staring towards him. Who was he? It was too small to be Miller.
Someone had spooked Miller, was this the man? There was no doubt in his mind that Miller knew something but was unwilling to talk about it. It didn’t mean he wasn’t at the restaurant tonight. People have been coerced into doing things they didn’t want to since time began.
Silently he made his way back to the house and into the window. But not after checking to make sure Simon and Rebecca were still in the living room. Time to catch a few hours himself, it was well after midnight.
***
APRIL WAS SITTING IN the middle of her bed, her fingers flying across her laptop. She’d hated lying to Nat about being sick, but she didn’t think he would approve of her diving into Miller.
Better to ask forgiveness then permission, her dad always used to say. Of course that was after she was grown. It didn’t apply when she was a child. He’d been strict then.
Since she’d been at the detective agency with him, a lot of things had changed. He’d treated her more as an equal, which had been fine with her. It was nice to have her skills appreciated and he’d been her biggest fan.
Yawning, she stretched her arms above her head and groaned. She’d been at it all night and still hadn’t found anything significant about the man she was researching. It was 6:00 am and the sun was starting to rise.
Desperately she loaded cemetery files and obits where his name was mentioned. There were a ton of Henry Millers. Her eyes felt scratchy and tired and this was a last-ditch effort before she passed out. Suddenly another name popped out at her. A Henry Adam Miller was listed as a surviving stepbrother in a small, obscure newspaper link in an obituary for a Tina Trenton. Why was that name familiar?
Her heart leapt with excitement when she realized it had been the name of James Denton’s first wife. What were the chances it was the same woman? Or that the Henry Miller who was her gardener was the same stepbrother? She swiftly scanned the obit but there was no mention of a husband surviving her. Did obits list ex-husbands as survivors?
Feeling vindicated and renewed, her fingers began a new search with the increased parameters of a middle name. Within 30 minutes she’d located his father, Sebastian Miller. His mother had died when Henry was 6 years old and his father had then married an Amber Trenton, who had a 3-year-old daughter named Tina. Amber had divorced his father when Henry was 14. By the time his stepsister Tina turned twenty, she had married James Anais Denton and moved to Clearwater, Massachusetts.
April yawned so wide she thought her mouth would split open so she lay back for a few minutes to close her eyes before continuing. She was pretty sure she would find that Henry Miller had followed his stepsister and her husband to Clearwater, and finally ended up as her father’s gardener. When Trask had moved in, he been hired by him and had worked for both properties ever since. For what purpose she wondered? Would he want to kill her father? Shatemuc had nothing to do with Tina’s death. Could it really just be chance?
“April. Wake up, April.”
The voice in her ear was soft and insistent, urgent even. “Go ‘way,” she mumbled swatting at the voice. She rolled over on her side and sank back into the abyss.
“I said wake up, little mess.” A sharp spank landed on her back side, jolting her rudely awake.
“Ow,” she complained, slowly surfacing and rubbing her buttock beneath her long t-shirt before she turned over. She blinked up at Nat’s face staring down at her. He looked angry, his blue eyes flashing like neon bulbs that reverberated in her tired brain.
Suddenly she shot up as her brain kicked into gear. She must have fallen asleep, and she had to pee. “Bathroom,” she hissed at him, shoving him aside so she could make a run for it. She made it into the bathroom and shut the door, yanking her panties down and landing on the toilet almost in the same motion. Groaning in relief, her most urgent need met, she wondered how she was going to explain what she’d been doing to Nat? Those angry eyes told her he knew she’d been up all night. After all, the evidence was all over the bed.
After washing her hands, she finally mustered the courage to step back into the bedroom where he sat on the edge of the bed like a stone buddha without the pot-belly. Nervously she fidgeted from one foot to the other, not wanting to approach those long thighs so firmly planted beside the bed.
Her eyes took in his freshly showered look, the clean denim cut-off shorts and the black muscle tank. He was freshly shaven this morning and raring to go. The idea of coming up with a plausible excuse for her all-nighter made her feel even more tired. He looked ready to spank first and ask questions later as he unfolded those ripped arms and crooked a forefinger at her. Heat stirred in her belly.
“W-what are you doing in my bedroom?” she asked baldly. “I locked the door.”
His eyebrows peaked somewhere just below his hairline. “When you didn’t answer the door, I let myself in,” he drawled. “Care to tell me what you’ve been doing all night? Because I know it’s not sleeping,” he ended on a sarcastic note.
“I’ve been working on my dad’s case,” she replied defiantly, lifting her chin. “And the last time I checked, I don’t have to answer to you for how I spend my time.”
“Except for one thing, brat. You lied to me. Told me you were sick, which means you had this planned all along. You also knew I wouldn’t like it, so you just didn’t tell me. Now, get over here because I’m going to spank your lying little butt.”
April glanced at the door, but there was really nowhere to run. Her mother was downstairs.
“Don’t make me come and get you,” Nat warned, catching her hesitant glance at the door. “And don’t run from me. If you do, I’ll spank you right in front of your mother when I catch up with you.”
April gasped with indignation. “You wouldn’t,” she accused him hotly. The look in his darkening eyes told her otherwise.