18

  As soon as I step into the precinct, the man behind the desk waves me back. “Callum’s expecting you.”

  “Bailey?” It’s as if he’s around the corner, waiting. “What’s wrong?”

  “Have you told the captain yet?”

  He nods.

  “I just learned something. You both might want to hear it.”

  “He’s in with Kelly right now,” Callum says. “She seemed pretty upset.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  He shakes his head. “She just went straight back. Didn’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Here, Detective.” A uniformed officer hands him a file folder. “No prints on the note or the handbag.”

  “Damn.” Callum looks through the papers despite the officer’s grim news.

  “Note? What note? The business card?”

  “No. When I went to my car this morning, the back window was broken, with the classic note-around-a-rock waiting for me in the backseat. Apparently, someone wasn’t too happy that I spent the night.”

  A man looking at a file passes us, but at those words, he looks up and smiles. “No wonder you smell so fresh today, Cal.” Then he winks at me.

  “Yeah, because that body spray you wear is a close cousin to insect repellant, right, Meeks?”

  “Bah.” The man named Meeks sits at his desk across from Callum’s, going through his file.

  “Meet my partner, Robert Meeks. Meeks, this is Bailey.”

  “Ah.” He stands and leans over, extending his hand for me to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” I shake his hand and turn back to Callum. “This is too much. Your car, and now—”

  Kelly steps out of the captain’s office, shaken but all right. And maybe a little angry.

  Yeah, more than a little.

  “Bailey?” She looks from me to Callum. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have news for the captain,” I say. “Why are you here?”

  “Threatening letter at work.”

  What? “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. I’m not even the one writing the story on Kurt O’Neal, but whoever they are still felt the need to make sure I should stay as far away from it as possible. What the hell is going on?”

  “Sir.” Another officer approaches the captain. “The suspect from the surveillance footage is in custody. Officers are bringing him in now.”

  “Excellent. I have the file on my desk.”

  “If we could, sir,” Callum says, gesturing toward his office. “Bailey has something related to the case.”

  “Of course. Let’s talk in here.”

  I follow the captain into his office, as does Callum and Kelly, but he doesn’t close the door. Feeling that time is of the essence, I don’t waste any time spilling my guts. From Link’s nervous behavior to his statement at Aaron Hill is somehow involved in all of this.

  “Oh, God, Link’s involved?” Kelly’s horrified look makes my twisting insides feel heavy, like a ball of cement just fell into my stomach.

  “And for the record,” I say, feeling like I need to defend him, “Link is a good person. Aaron is our vice principal, and I’m sure Link didn’t know the full extent of what Aaron was getting him into.”

  “It’s likely that Aaron may have flexed his authority a little bit,” the captain says. “And Mr. Fletcher says he knows the gentleman that you saw at the meeting yesterday?”

  “Apparently, yes, although I don’t know how well. Well enough to know that Alex Fisher bad news. He’s called the Fixer.”

  “I’ve heard Stone talk about him before,” Callum says to the captain. “I should give him a call.”

  “Who’s Stone?”

  “A detective from the Organized Crime unit in Tampa,” the captain answers. “Darren Stone. He’s been tracking the Fixer for a while now.” The captain nods once to Callum. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Fletcher as soon as possible.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “Let me,” I say, taking a step forward. “I don’t want anyone to see Link get arrested.” I look from Callum to the captain. “He could be a way into the game.”

  “Bailey—” Both the captain and Callum say my name with the exact same tone.

  “We’re looking into every possible avenue,” the captain says. “We’ve interviewed suspects and all those connected with Kurt O’Neal, and another person is about to be questioned. Your lead on the illegal game is very helpful, and we will take it from here.”

  Paternal, direct, and resolute. Callum crosses his arms and looks at me, a glimmer of triumph in his eyes.

  “Uncle Dave’s right,” Kelly says. “But I think Bailey has a point, too. Link has been there and going tonight wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. Can’t you wire him up with a microphone or something?”

  “Let us take care of it, love.” The captain puts a hand on Kelly’s shoulder.

  I cross my arms and look through the open doorway. The captain and Callum are both right, I absolutely know that, but my friend is in the middle of this mess. He could get hurt, or worse.

  I know they understand how serious this is.

  I know they’re doing everything within their power.

  But what if Link is in more trouble than even I realize?

  We have to help him. We have to do—

  My thoughts freeze as my eyes catch a familiar face, strolling through the precinct as guided by the deputy. The man is in handcuffs, but the smug look on his face tells me that he won’t be for long.

  “Oh, my God.” I point. “That’s him.”

  “Who?” Callum looks at the man going into the interrogation room.

  “John Gleeson,” the captain says. He picks up the file and tucks it under my arm. “Picked him up on the surveillance footage from your apartment complex. He and I have a date in a few minutes.”

  “John Gleeson? He dropped off the purse, didn’t he?” I don’t wait for Callum or the captain to confirm that. “He’s Alex Fisher.”

  “The Fixer?” Kelly stares at the now-closed door to the interrogation room. “The one Link’s afraid of?” Then she gasps. “Initials T.F.” She stares at me, eyes wide and unblinking.

  T.F.

  Kurt’s emails.

  They were from Alex Fisher.

  “Kelly Ann Cavanaugh.” The captain’s voice is quiet. “Where did you see those initials, young lady?”

  She winces a smile, saying nothing.

  “Well, this will be an interesting avenue to follow during interrogation.” The captain nods at us. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Give him hell, Uncle Dave,” Kelly says.

  “I aim to, young lady.”

  After the captain leaves, I ask Callum, “Can we watch? I won’t make a sound.”

  “Oh, I definitely don’t think so.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and guides me out of the captain’s office. “You have to move into your mother’s house, remember? The bad guys know where you live now.”

  I turn on him, less than pleased. Although I didn’t expect any different, if I’m honest. “Don’t be late for dinner.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He kisses me on the forehead. “Be safe and stay together.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kelly adds, amused.

  19

  Not knowing what to pack isn’t the problem. It’s not knowing how much to pack. Will I be able to come back on my own to my apartment, or will I need an entourage of armed officers? It almost feels that way. After Kelly’s threatening note and Callum’s broken car window, I can’t look around my town the same way again.

  But it isn’t my town—it’s the seedy underbelly of the big city that’s seeped in, and I want to try like hell to get it out.

  “All right.” Kelly lugs her suitcase out of her bedroom. “Ready.”

  “Me too.” I take one last look around our apartment, hoping that this situation resolves itself quickly. “Anything in the fridge?”

  “Oh, good thinking.” Kelly opens it up and inspects. “No leftovers. A couple of condiments.” She closes the door with a grim look. “We still live like college students, Bay.”

  “It paid off just this once. Nothing to bring over so it doesn’t spoil.”

  “Let’s make a pact to eat better after all this is over.”

  I lead the way out the door, my keys ready in my hand to lock the door. “Pact made and accepted. Should we get one of those mail delivery plans? The food comes ready to cook?”

  “We can research them while we’re at your mom’s, enjoying home-cooked masterpieces.”

  “At least we don’t have to worry about packing up everything for Dragon Master.” I set the lock and roll my suitcase toward the stairs. “Everything’s already at Mom’s.”

  “Convenient and tempting. The idea of moving in permanently does look pretty good. A full-sized kitchen for our culinary experiments, and Dragon Master is already there…”

  “I didn’t think you’d be keen on the idea of moving out of the apartment,” I say, wheeling my suitcase to my car.

  Kelly stops in the middle of the parking lot, halfway to her own car. “The idea of your mom selling the house feels…wrong. If she wants tenants to make the house not to empty, you and I can pay rent.”

  Mom’s mention of selling the place was always done in passing, but Kelly’s right—the idea feels wrong. “Let’s see what happens. We still have several months on our lease.”

  “Yeah, no rash decisions, thank you very much.”

  She goes to her car, and we both load up our possessions and drive to my childhood home. Mom is ready and waiting, dinner already made and the table set.

  She’s also in a nervous tizzy, which Kelly and I try to quell.

  “I don’t have any milk for the potatoes,” she says, flitting around the kitchen like a hummingbird. “But don’t worry. I didn’t call you because Callum texted me earlier and I asked him to pick up a small bottle. Just need eight ounces.”

  “Mom.” I put my hands on her arms to still her. “I know you’re upset.”

  “You’re damn right I’m upset, Bailey Michelle. Going to a meeting like that, getting mugged!” She hugs me and pulls Kelly into her arms, too. “And you, Kelly Ann, and that letter! I wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight if you both hadn’t come over here to stay.”

  “We’re very grateful, Mrs. Knight,” Kelly says. “And we can do whatever we can to make this as easy on you as possible.”

  “Although I still hate doing laundry,” I add. “I have grown quite used to the washer as my hamper and the drier as my closet.”

  “Some things never change.” Mom smiles. “Callum should be by any minute. He just texted me from the store to make sure he picked up the right milk.”

  Kelly and I prepare the water for the table and convince Mom to sit, but she’s still talking so fast.

  “The guest room’s ready for you, Kelly. It has its own bathroom, too, which you already know. Bailey’s in her room, and Anna’s room is ready for her, if she ever decides to come back.” She blinks away the mist in her eyes. “Not that I blame her for loving it over there. Ireland is such a beautiful place.”

  “And Callum’s family is there, too,” I say quickly, hoping that this reminder helps to ease her missing Anna. “Callum asked them to look after her.”

  “Oh, bless him.” She takes a sip of water. “That’s good. That’s very good.”

  Minutes pass with the three of us sitting there, waiting.

  “They mentioned a detective named Darren Stone,” I say out loud, going on my phone and searching up his police department. “I wonder what—” I stop as I look at the search results from my web browser. “Oh, wow.” I touch a headline regarding a case from 2014, where Darren Stone took down a high-ranking member of the organized crime ring in Miami. I show the article to Kelly. “He’s going to be the one helping to bring down the people responsible for all this.”

  “I have to admit that I feel better about all of this now.”

  “Me too. I wonder how Callum knows him.”

  “We should ask him about it when he gets here.”

  “Which should be any minute...” Mom puts on her reading glasses before opening her texting app. “He texted me about fifteen minutes ago. He should be here by now.”

  “Traffic?” Kelly asks, although she doesn’t sound convinced.

  My phone rings in this moment, as if fate’s in a whimsical mood. “Oh, it’s Callum. I hope he can still make it.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Kelly winks at me.

  I cross my eyes at her as I answer. “Hey, Cal. Where—”

  “Bailey?” The voice on the other end isn’t Callum’s. “It’s Robert Meeks, Cal’s partner.”

  “Hey.” I don’t know what to say. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve already called Cathy, and she’s on her way. I thought it would be a good idea to call you too.” He takes a breath. The urgency in his voice has frozen every muscle in my body. After what feels like an eternity, Meeks finally says, “Callum’s been hurt. He’s at Golden Shore General.”

  I jump to my feet, startling Mom and Kelly as I rush to the front door where I’ve set my purse and car keys. “When? What happened?”

  “I can explain everything here. He’s all right. I just thought you’d want to come.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I hang up without saying goodbye.

  “Bailey, what’s—”

  “Callum’s in the hospital.”

  “What? What’s—”

  I’m already out the door, rushing to my car. For all of the afternoon traffic, it would’ve been faster running to the hospital. But after twenty long and agonizing minutes, I’m running out of the slowest elevator in the world from the parking garage to the reception area in Emergency.

  “Callum Baldwin.” I’m breathless and a mess, but the person behind the desk doesn’t seem phased. How often they must see people just like me...

  “He’s in surgery. Are you family?”

  I almost say no, but the lie escapes my lips before the truth does. “Yes.”

  The receptionist has me sign in and gives me a wrist band. “There you are.”

  “Thank you.” But I’m already rushing away, an alarm buzzing as the door unlocks to let me through.

  The corridor is congested with gurneys and people, both in scrubs and in street clothes. People are murmuring, one person is shouting, another is groaning. Sounds and smells melt together as the bright white lights stab into my eyes, still frantically searching.

  “Bailey!” Cathy stands up from where she’s waiting, waving a hand. Mark and Carrie are with her.

  “Meeks called me,” I say, going to them and hugging them before another word is spoken. “What happened?”

  “He was stabbed.” Tears well in Cathy’s eyes. “I don’t know anything beyond that, but it must’ve been bad if he needed surgery.”

  Fear plummets in my core, and I barely make it to a chair to sit with them. Stabbed.

  “Where’s Meeks?”

  “Investigating,” she says. “It was at the grocery store, so he’s going over footage and canvasing for witnesses. This isn’t going to slide. He’s going to find out who did this.”

  The resolution in her voice is meant to reassure us both. I take her hand, so grateful not to be here alone.

  I text Mom and Kelly before I resign to the agony of waiting. The flurry of texts pours in, demanding to know what happened and who could’ve done this and what should they do…

  Then the storm of messages calms, and I’m left in the waiting room with Cathy, the both of us glancing between the clock and the double doors, where the doctor could emerge at any minute…

  It’s this case. It’s the people who’ve killed Kurt and Ray Sharp and Lorie. It’s the people that Alex Fisher works for.

  Alex Fisher. Who was he in all of this? Some sort of task man? Someone in the field with filthy hands that will never come clean…

  One hour passes.

  Then another.

  Cathy and I have taken turns to the cafeteria for stale coffee and something that passes for dinner for Mark and Carrie. The kids are scared, quietly watching the movie on Cathy’s phone. Yet the worry lines never leave their faces.

  Cathy and I lean on one another, our friendship bonding deeper as we both sit and wait and pray. He didn’t show up for dinner, and our first thought was traffic, not that his job had nearly cost him his life.

  What a naive fool. Every word of warning from him, every plea for me to stay away from this case—the rock-hard boulder of fear shifts into a block of ice, and I shiver. Cathy pulls me closer, rubbing my arms.

  “He has to be all right,” Cathy whispers. “We’ll always have each other. Mom and Dad have already gone, but we still have each other.”

  Her voice wavers, and she wipes her eyes. I hold her hand tightly, my own throat closing up.

  Cathy taps my arm and stands back up again, her eyes wide as she watches a man in blue scrubs walk closer to us.

  “You’re the family of Callum Baldwin?”

  Cathy nods, wisps of hair flying around her face. “Is he all right?”

  “The stab wound was fairly deep and managed to puncture his small intestine. Surgery went well, and I expect him to make a full recovery.”

  Relief of this magnitude feels like I’ve deflated, and I sink into the chair as I can barely see straight, let alone stand upright.

  “Oh, Doctor, thank you.” Cathy hugs him. Mark and Carrie join in, their own tear-streaked faces jubilant. “When can we see him?”

  “He’s on his way to recovery. He will be asleep for a few more hours. I’ll have the nurses tell you his room number.”

  Cathy thanks the doctor again and again, and I sit and breathe. He’s going to be all right. He’s going to be all right.

  I text Mom and Kelly. Their relief pours in, but I ask Cathy, “How do I tell Meeks?”

  “I have his number,” she says. “I’ll do it.”

  It’s almost another hour before we can go back to his room. He’s already there, still asleep from the anesthesia. His color looks off, as if his blood had been drained and put back, only to have his body struggle with the switch. And there is something about a hospital bed that always makes its inhabitant seem small. Callum is tall and broad and strong, yet the angled bed and the crisp, white sheets swallow him.

 

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