Kill for Me (30 page)

“He gets arraigned tomorrow.”

“We’ll have him followed in case he’s more involved in this than we believe. Ed?”

“We found Becky’s body buried outside Beardsley’s cell. Beaten to death.”

“So we have one more confirmed body.” Chase closed his eyes for a moment. “Get me a picture of Becky. I’ll ask the media to help identify her. And,” Chase looked at Susannah, “Gretchen French has scheduled a press conference for four this afternoon.”

“That’s right. In the Grand Hotel. She’s expecting it to be standing room only.”

“We’ll need video surveillance and security teams at the Grand, metal detector required. Bobby might be arrogant enough to come and bask in her glory.”

“Or get another shot at Susannah,” Luke said quietly.

Chase looked at Susannah again. “Where are you going next?”

“To the hospital,” she said. “There are some things I need to discuss with Daniel.”

Her paternity for one, Luke knew. Frank Loomis’s reasons for his falsifying evidence thirteen years ago, for another. “I’ll go with her. I still need to find out who tampered with Ryan Beardsley’s IV. It could be this ‘other’ that we’re looking for.”

“Fine. Be careful, everyone,” Chase said. “Keep in contact and meet back here at two-thirty for a briefing before Gretchen French’s press conference.” Everyone began to file out, but Chase signaled Luke to stay.

“Luke, you’ve been going 24/7 for the last week,” Chase said. “You found the girls.”

“Bobby’s still out there,” Luke began, but Chase waved him silent.

“I’ve got every agent in this department working to find her.”

“Are you taking me off this case?” Luke demanded, anger beginning to boil up.

“Relax. No, I’m not taking you off the case, but I want you healthy and dependable. We’ve taken the wind out of Bobby’s sails for now,” Chase said. “She’s probably regrouping. So go home, recharge. Come back better prepared to track her down.”

“All right. As soon as I’ve taken Susannah to see Daniel, I’ll go home and crash.”

Chapter Nineteen

Dutton, Sunday, February 4, 9:00 a.m.

B
obby snapped the phone shut. Her GBI mole had thought their relationship was finished, just because Bobby had lost a little ground. But secrets were still valid currency, especially now.
They know who I am.
It meant she had to be more careful.

She scoffed.
Kira Laneer thinks she knows where I am.
But that Garth had known more than Bobby thought should not be ignored. Her husband was not a stupid man. Bobby didn’t plan to take any chances with Kira Laneer.

She dialed Paul’s number. “I need you.”

“I don’t think so, sugar. I’ve been watching TV and your ass is fried. Susannah Vartanian looked cute on the news stealing your inventory right out from under you.”

Fury bubbled up. “Don’t get smart. I have a job for you.” She gave him Laneer’s address. “Make it painless. She kept Garth from pawing at me, after all.” Bobby hated Garth, hated his touch. She’d borne his two brats, fulfilling her expectations as a Davis wife. The boys, however, had been a good accessory for her suburban housewife persona, and she’d been good to them. It was smart business to keep one’s cover healthy and smiling. “Kill Kira Laneer before she tells GBI what she knows.”

“Bobby, this is too much,” Paul said. “You can’t keep killing these people.”

“Just do as you’re told or I’ll make a call to the police about
you
.” It was the first time she’d ever threatened to. First time she’d felt the need. Shaking, she hung up. Garth’s victims would be talking to the press this afternoon. Susannah would be there.
I will be, too.
That GBI had increased security was useful information, although it made things more difficult. But Bobby knew how to manage the problem.
Susannah, it’s time to die
.

Dutton, Sunday, February 4, 9:03 a.m.

“I told you so,” Paul said to Charles, flipping his phone shut. “She’s out of control.”

Charles filled their cups with coffee. “She could also make good on her threat, and I need you to remain where you are. You’re useful to me in the police department.”

Paul’s jaw squared. “She won’t talk if you kill her first. Or let me do it.”

Charles lifted his brows. “But I’m not finished with her yet.”

“I’m not going to kill Garth’s mistress.”

Charles regarded him mildly over his coffee cup. “Yes, you will.”

Paul’s eyes flashed. “We have no idea what the Laneer woman even knows.”

“Pillow talk,” Charles mused. “We don’t know what Garth might have told Laneer. I’ll choose where and when to divulge information.” His eyes narrowed, pleased to see Paul straightening in his chair. “I want Bobby at that press conference this afternoon.”

“Why?” Paul sounded petulant, just as he had as a small boy.

“Because that’s where Susannah will be. Bobby won’t be able to resist.”

“That’s why you wanted me to goad her about Susannah stealing her inventory.”

Charles pointed to Paul’s plate with his fork. “Eat your eggs, son. They’re getting cold. Then get over to Kira Laneer’s. You can take my car.”

Paul jabbed at his breakfast. “Let Bobby do her own damn dirty work for once.”

“I don’t want Bobby going over there to do her own dirty work,” Charles said sharply. “In her current mood, she’ll get caught and I’ll miss my live show at four.”

Atlanta, Sunday, February 4, 9:30 a.m.

Filled with uncertainty, Susannah stopped in the doorway of Daniel’s hospital room. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been in ICU and she’d been crying all over him.

Now, standing here, was an awkward moment. He lay in the bed with his eyes closed, Alex by his side reading a magazine. “How is he?” she whispered to Alex.

“He’s fine,” Daniel answered. He opened blue eyes that could be glacial, warm, or sad. Now they were warm. “I saw you on the news. You found the girls. Congrats.”

“Thank you.” Susannah sat on the edge of a chair, wanting to flee. Luke stayed behind her, his hands on her shoulders. She folded her own hands in her lap, primly. “Daniel, I have something to tell you and it’s going to be something of a shock.”

Luke gently kneaded her shoulders. “You’re making it worse. Just tell him.”

Daniel was looking up at Luke balefully. “What?” he said, carefully enunciating.

“Relax,” Luke said easily, a hint of humor in his voice. “I haven’t laid a hand on her.”

Yet.
Susannah could feel the word hover in the air, and her cheeks heated, not in embarrassment or fear, but in excitement.
Yet
. It was seductive. Powerful. She thought of the box in his bedroom.
Yet
. It was a portent of things to come. But not now, she thought, preparing to deliver what would be both balm to Daniel’s heart, and a dagger.

“It’s about Frank Loomis,” she blurted.

“What about him?” Daniel asked stiffly, going very still.

“We visited Angie Delacroix early this morning, hoping for some answers, and got a lot more than we bargained for. It seems Angie has been having an affair with Frank Loomis for years. But he wouldn’t marry her, because he loved someone else. Mother.”

Daniel blinked, his lips falling open in surprise. “
Our
mother?”

“Yes. And, it was mutual between them, at least once.” She drew a breath, let it out. “Arthur Vartanian is not my father. Frank Loomis is.”

Daniel slowly sagged. He stared at Susannah, then up at Luke. “Are you sure?”

“I gave Ed a DNA sample before we came here,” she said. “We’ll know tomorrow.”

“But it makes other pieces make sense,” Luke said, briefly squeezing her shoulders.

Susannah hesitated, then took her brother’s hand. “Angie said thirteen years ago Simon did something so terrible that Frank couldn’t make it go away. She said Mother begged him to take care of ‘it’ and Frank did. For Mother.”

“So Frank falsified evidence and framed Gary Fulmore,” Daniel murmured. “And that’s why he disappeared this week. He said he needed space. He was mourning her.”

Susannah said nothing for a moment, letting her brother think, consider. And she recognized the moment he understood what she had been too stunned to comprehend in Angie’s living room. His eyes flew open and locked on hers, intense and horrified.

“Then Mother
knew
,” he whispered hoarsely. “She knew Simon was involved in Alex’s sister’s murder. Oh my God, Suze. She
knew.
”

“If not the murder,” Susannah said quietly, “then at least the rape.”

“I thought that last night,” Luke said quietly, and Susannah twisted to look up at him.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“You were so hurt. I figured you’d get there on your own when you were ready.”

She held his gaze for another few beats, touched. Then she looked back at Daniel and stiffened her spine. “Daniel, there’s more.”

He stared at her, pale. “
More?
”

“Yes. Ed found a hair in the bunker office where you were shot. It . . . The DNA is a close match to yours, consistent with a half- sibling, sharing paternity.” She’d reverted to her just-the-facts prosecutor persona. It was easier that way. “You have a half-sister. Another half-sister, that is. It’s Garth Davis’s wife, Barbara Jean. She goes by Bobby.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “The ‘other’ Granville was talking about before he died.”

Daniel’s mouth opened and closed several times. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Luke said. “Your father had a fling with the wife of the former reverend of your church. Barbara Jean was the product.”

“And she’s . . . bad, Daniel,” Susannah said. “Evil. She’s killed eleven people, plus ordering the murders of the five girls. She killed Kate Davis, too.”

Daniel’s breathing was fast and shallow. “But why? Why kill Kate?”

“Remember I asked about Rocky?” Luke said. “We thought that was a man. Rocky was Kate Davis, Garth’s sister. Kate was working with Granville and Bobby Davis.”

Daniel looked lost. “But Kate came to us. She told us that whoever was killing the Dutton women last week had sent Garth letters threatening her life. That Garth was afraid to talk because a few years ago Jared O’Brien started to talk about the club and was murdered. We found Mack O’Brien because
she
came to
us
. She
played
us?”

“Like a bad harmonica,” Luke said dryly. “Chase and I were pissed, too.”

“So you need to be careful,” Susannah said urgently. “Bobby’s still out there.”

“That’s why I still have a guard on my door,” Daniel said. “Oh my God. This is . . .”

“I know,” Susannah murmured. “Insane.”

“I’m glad you told me.” Daniel raked his fingers through his hair. “This answers a lot of questions. I don’t like any of the answers, but as you say, it is what it is. You need to go to a safe house, Suze. For your own safety.”

She’d already considered the option and rejected it. “For how long, Daniel?”

His eyes narrowed at her tone. “Until she’s caught.”

“And if that’s weeks? Months? What if she’s never caught? I’ve lost thirteen years of my life because of Simon and Granville and Bobby. I don’t want to lose any more.”

“You could lose your
life
,” Daniel said fiercely.

“I’ll take every precaution.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. “Will you at least wear a vest?”

She’d already decided to do so. “Yes. That I will do. And now I’m going to visit Monica Cassidy, and then I’m going to sleep. I have a busy afternoon ahead of me.”

She was at the door when he spoke again, quietly. “Suze. Promise me you won’t take any chances like you did in the Rublonsky trial.”

Eyes wide, she turned. “How did you know about that?”

His blue eyes flickered. “I know every case you’ve prosecuted since you joined the DA’s office. I’ve followed each one.”

Emotion rose to clog her throat. “But . . .”

“I left you because I thought I was keeping you safe. I couldn’t prove Dad’s underhanded dealings and I didn’t want to drag you under with me. I had no idea you’d already been . . .” His voice broke and he stopped until he could speak again. “I knew when you graduated second in your class in college. I knew when you started clerking with the DA’s office. I’ve read every decision of every trial you’ve ever prosecuted.”

“I didn’t know,” she said, devastated. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I never stopped caring about you,” he whispered harshly. “Never. Not for one minute.” His eyes flared, intense, and Susannah couldn’t look away. “So promise me,” he said fiercely. “Promise me you won’t do what you did on the Rublonsky case.”

Her eyes stung and she blinked hard. “I promise. I have to go.”

“I’ll watch over her,” she heard Luke say as she made her way to the elevator.

Luke caught up to her at the elevator. “What happened on the Rublonsky case?”

She kept her eyes fixed on the elevator. “A college girl was gang raped and murdered by men with ties to the Russian mob. I set up an interview with an informant who had names, dates . . . proof. He wouldn’t come to our office, so I met him outside this bodega. He’d been followed. He was shot standing about a foot away from me.”

“Did you get the information?”

“No, but the cops caught the shooter and we got him to roll on the others.”

“What happened to the informant?”

“He died,” she said, still feeling the immense wave of regret. And guilt.

“You couldn’t have known that would happen.” She said nothing, then heard his sharp intake of breath. “Did you?”

“I . . . suspected.”

The elevator opened. She stepped in, but he stood still, staring at her. The door started to close and he jumped in, taking her chin between his fingers and forcing her to look up at him. “You made yourself
bait
,” he said harshly.

She shrugged. “It wasn’t so dramatic as all that. I worried something might happen, so I asked the police to come with me, to protect us both. He was a bad guy, Luke. He was playing both sides of a dangerous game. He’d informed on the mob before.”

“You made yourself
bait
,” he repeated. “You might have been shot yourself.”

Again she said nothing and he hissed a curse. “You
were
shot.”

One side of her mouth lifted. “I was wearing a vest. But I was surprised how much it
hurt
,” she added lightly. “I had one hell of a bruise.”

He closed his eyes, his face grown pale. “Mother of God.”

“I have to admit it scared me, too,” she said. “But we won the case. We were able to get justice for the murdered girl and a dozen new indictments based on the verdict.”

The doors opened and he took her arm, leading her into the waiting room outside ICU. Before she could utter a protest his mouth was on hers, urgent and dark and . . . scared. He’d been scared, for her. Abruptly he ended the kiss, his breathing strident. “You will not do that again,” he said, his arms coming around to hold her close against him. His heart thundered and she smoothed her hands up his back, soothing.

“All right,” she whispered. “I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw, dark with stubble. “I’m finally getting my life back, Luke. I won’t waste it so foolishly. Now let me go. I need to see Monica before I fall off my feet.”

He loosened his hold, kissing her more gently. “I’m glad,” he whispered.

“What, that I’m exhausted?”

“No. That you’re getting your life back. And that I get to be part of it.”

She lifted her brows, trying for levity even though her pulse was pounding. “That would be assuming facts not in evidence, Agent Papadopoulos.”

He placed his fingertips between her breasts, and every nerve in her body jumped. “Your heart is racing. So either you’re having a heart attack, in which case it’s good we’re in a hospital, or you’re interested.” His brows arched. “Because I’m engaging.”

Her lips twitched. “And sinfully sexy.”

He grinned down at her. “I knew I’d get you to say it eventually. It’s part of my evil plan to make you need me.” His grin faltered, just a little. “How’s it working?”