Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray (14 page)

for Starbucks, get some iced coffee. Maybe I can get a back corner.” She moved past them,

heading out the door. “See you later.”

“All right, Mr. Nelson. Come on in here and have a seat. I promise this won’t take long.”

Lee followed, hesitating when Harrison closed the door behind them. The woman had been

right—it was freezing in the room. Harrison noticed Lee’s hesitance. “Don’t worry. I’m not

going to ask anything incriminating. You won’t need a lawyer.”

Lee was not so reassured. “So you say.”

Harrison indicated the seat opposite the one he’d taken, then glared up at the air vents. “If

they’d replace the damn thing, we wouldn’t be going from tropics to subzero inside of five

minutes. Sorry about this.”

“It’s all right.”

Harrison placed his hands together and studied Lee’s face. Lee steeled himself, making

sure he remained relaxed. He had nothing to hide, but he felt like he was about to get

interrogated anyway.

“We’ve already checked your whereabouts. You were driving up the North Tollway and

back during the time the murders were likely committed.”

“How—” Then he remembered. “Cameras.”

“Handy bastards. Total nuisance, really, though. Revenue has dropped since adding those

things, and I can’t tell you how many have been shot out. Anyway, sit, please.”

Lee forced himself to relax a little. Harrison was like a myriad of TV detectives—they

seemed to come either as scruffy, Columbo-types with OCD or like this guy: neat, orderly, calm,

organized. For Gev’s sake, he hoped Detective Harrison was damn good.

“Is Gev all right?” he asked.

“Gev? Mr. Sinclair? Fine, fine. Shaken up, but understandable.” Harrison’s face was

implacable, giving Lee nothing more. The detective took out a notepad.

“So that means he’s not under suspicion?”

“No, that doesn’t mean he’s not under suspicion.”

“Oh.” Lee shifted in his seat, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he was. “What can I help

you with, then? Why am I here?”

“To tell us about Mr. Sinclair and also about your time together last night. If you saw

anyone suspicious, anything strange happen. Did you notice anyone paying undue attention?”

“Everyone pays us undue attention,” Lee said wryly.

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Harrison raised an eyebrow. “Point taken. Mr. Sinclair informed me about his brother and

your involvement. And about how you met again last night. Tell me about that, Mr. Nelson.”

Lee took a deep breath. The last time he was in a situation like this, he’d been thirteen and

too damn hurt and scared over what had happened and the fact that Stefan’s kidnapper had gotten

away. For years, he’d been terrified the man would come back and finish what he had started.

Lee was the one person who might identify the abductor, though he’d never been able to. The

blows to his head took care of that.

“Everything about the whole thing was strange,” he admitted.

“In what way?”

Lee felt like fidgeting, but he didn’t, instead curling his toes in his shoes, clenching his

hands beneath the table, flexing them, trying to relax. “The tickets Nick received—I received.

They were unusual.”

“Oh, how so? And Nick—”

“Nick Kilmain.”

“And he is…?”

Of all people not to know who Nick Kilmain was? Lee didn’t believe it for a second. “My

boss. Lead singer for Dream. I play bass for him.”

“For how long?” Harrison asked, scribbling notes on the paper.

“About ten years.”

“And to answer the doubt in your eyes, I do know Dream. My niece is nuts about Kilmain.

Might have to ask for your autograph.” Lee groaned. Silently. “Anyway, Mr. Nelson—or would

you rather…”

“Lee, please. That’s fine.”

“Tell me about the tickets. Why were they unusual?”

“Because fans usually, almost always, sign their names at the very least. Fans tend to be—

They tend to be insistent on us knowing who they are.” He waved one hand.

“My niece is fourteen. I know.”

Lee couldn’t help but smile at the way he said that. “But it was our last performance

weekend. We had time to kill.” He winced. “So we decided to go. Nick asked me to go with him;

we didn’t realize until later the tickets were for me.”

Harrison waited. He looked at Lee. “And?”

“Nick was headed for me when the tickets came, but he got a phone call that distracted

him. The envelope was handed to him, so he assumed they were his.”

“Is it unusual for you to get gifts? Not unusual for Kilmain, but what about you?”

“Just the bass player, I know,” he conceded. “But there are plenty sent to me, to all of us,

especially after last year. Especially to Tommy.”

“He was the one who…”

“Blew up.”

“Why do you think these came when you were headed to Dallas? Mr. Sinclair told me

there were times he was performing in the same city, or near to, your concerts. Nothing

happened then.”

62

Carolyn Gray

Lee wondered if Gev had ever come to see a concert. The thought of Gev out in the

audience, watching him, stirred something in him he wasn’t too sure about. If Gev had, Lee

wished he’d known. He would’ve liked to have met him again before now. He shifted

uncomfortably in his seat.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t initially going to come to Dallas.”

“But you changed your mind. Why?”

Lee stiffened again, then forced himself to relax. The questions were driving him nuts.

Nice questions, make nice, get him to relax, then wham! But he hadn’t done a damn thing wrong.

“It’d been a while since I’ve been here. Since—”

“Since Stefan. You left a year after that.”

“I went to live with my grandmother. It was too difficult here.” He realized he was

clenching his hands into fists. He had no wish to talk about that, just as he hadn’t the night

before.

Harrison tapped his pen, his expression thoughtful. He looked up at Lee. “It’s tough, being

a survivor. I actually know that for a fact. I got into police work because my sister—my niece’s

mom—was nearly beaten to death. The cops on the case were brilliant, tracked down the suspect

in two days, arrested the bastard, had an airtight case, and he’s still enjoying the fine dining in

prison.”

Lee was surprised at the edge of anger-fueled passion in the man’s voice, but he could

understand it. “You were fortunate—she was—that it was solved. Stefan’s case was never

solved, the guy never caught.”

Harrison narrowed his eyes shrewdly, and Lee realized he had purposely steered Lee that

direction. He began to feel a shade of alarm as the thought of truly encountering the creator of

his nightmares surfaced once again, after a long dormancy. It made him sick.

“You really do think this is connected.”

“It is possible.”

“But how? Why?”

Harrison sat back. “Anonymous tickets. Gev finds out only when he sees you that you’re in

town. Shocked, he too is forced to relive that time, his brother’s disappearance. And now, his

roommate and a stranger are killed. Chad Hill was in Gev’s bed when he was killed. He looked

remarkably like Gev.”

A chill went through Lee. “Shit.”

“No shit, Mr. Nelson. “ He pulled a card out of his pocket. “If you think of anything—and

I mean any little tiny snit of information—from now, or even before, even from when you were

thirteen—”

“That was a long time ago,” Lee said almost automatically. He took the card.

“Exactly. You’re grown now, lost those little-boy fears. You were only thirteen, had been

through a harrowing experience, had no family support. The detective on that case is”—there

was a strange quirk to his lips—“let’s say she’s close to me, and I’ve touched base with her to let

her know what’s going on. I fully expect her involvement. She remembers you very well. You

were haunted, she said, and she figured you probably knew more than you could say back then.”

Lee wanted to protest. The guilt slammed him. Damn shitty guilt. “I did the best I could,”

he said stiffly.

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Harrison spread his hands, sitting back in his chair. Appeasing. But his words stabbed at

Lee. “You did. You gave them what you could. You endured a terrible beating.” Lee stiffened at

that and looked away. He wished Harrison would stop. “And survived it when it was thought you

wouldn’t. You were able to tell the detective in charge a lot more than you realized. You kept on

living. That took a lot of guts. You were a very brave kid then. But there might be more now you

can tell us, things you’ve thought about over the years. Or you can’t remember if you mentioned

or not. Time heals a lot of wounds, but it can steal one’s memory as well. Except,” he said,

tapping his skull, “when it sharpens it. Has time sharpened your memory, Lee?”

Lee stayed silent. He didn’t know how to answer that question. He
couldn’t
answer that

question. Instead he stood and left the room. Harrison did nothing to stop him.

64

Carolyn Gray

Chapter Nine

Walking outside, Lee turned to face the afternoon sun. It felt good after the freezing

interrogation room to let the sunshine chase away the chill. The whole day was nearly over, and

he didn’t know what to do with himself. Going back to the hotel didn’t appeal, and he imagined

Gev was long gone. He’d initially been requested to stay in Dallas a few days, which he’d

intended to do anyway. He needed to call Nick, though, tell him all that was going on, and he

needed—no, he
wanted
—to find Gev. The desire to see Gev again surprised him. He needed to

see, with his own eyes, that Gev really was okay.

He pulled out his phone and called Nick but only got his voice mail. “Nick, give me a call

when you get this.” He ended the call and shoved the phone into his front pocket as he headed

for the rental car. He could always go shopping. Get Jonathan and Amanda a few more presents

for their new house.

“Lee! Wait!”

Lee stopped midstride. His heart nearly exploded as he twirled around and saw Gev

running toward him. It was all he could do not to burst out in a melodramatic run and scoop Gev

up in his arms as if he were still a ten-year-old needing comfort. The look on Gev’s face as he

slowed to a jog stopped Lee. But it made him happy.
What the hell am I thinking?

“Gev, you okay?” To his shock, Gev threw himself into Lee’s arms and hugged him

fiercely. Lee closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Gev, the shock waves of Gev’s hard,

warm body chasing away the last of his chill. Lee wasn’t an emotional person, at least on the

outside, but it took all his will and determination to keep from showing his reaction.

Gev pulled back. “I’m fine.” He didn’t look fine to Lee. He looked ragged and exhausted.

“Okay, not so fine, but at least I’m alive.” He looked unbearably sad for a moment but shook it

off and looked over his shoulder. “Remember little Nina?”

Lee stared at the woman approaching. Gev resembled his brother—there would’ve been no

mistaking they were siblings—but this woman? She could’ve been Stefan’s twin.

She held out her hand as she reached them. “I don’t really remember you, but I know
all

about you.” She glanced at her brother as Lee took her hand and shook it, wondering what the

hell that look was all about.

Especially since Gev wrapped his arms around himself and turned a bit red. “Nina,” Gev

warned.

“Nice to meet you, Nina. I remember you.”

“In diapers,” Gev said.

Nina smacked her brother. “I was five, jerk, and
not
in diapers. Just because
you
stayed in

diapers until four—”

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65

“Nina!” Gev said again, clearly horrified. Lee had to wrench himself from the mire of

memories at seeing both of them again. Her eyes were so like
his
, it gave Lee shivers. She

wouldn’t know that; perhaps even Gev didn’t know. But Lee was sure their parents did.

“Sorry, Gev. But, Lee, he’s a big fan of Dream.”

“Nina—”

“He had posters of you guys all over his walls when he was younger.”

Gev playfully tackled his sister, whirling her around to shut her up. Lee ached inside as

they kissed and fussed for a couple of seconds. He felt the intruder—because, of course, he was.

They finally contained themselves and remembered he was there. Nina was the first to

speak, and when she did so, her words were serious enough to kill the humor. “I’m sorry you had

to walk into something like this. I know it must be hard.”

“Did you talk to Detective Harrison too?” Gev asked.

“I did. He thinks—”

Gev interrupted Lee. “That there might be a connection to Stefan. I know. He told me the

same thing.” He and his sister exchanged a look. “We haven’t told the parents yet. Will you

come with us?”

“Me?” he said in surprise. See the Sinclairs again? He wanted to say no—no way—but

then Nina gently grasped his arm with both hands, her grip insistent, as if she were afraid he