Cross Roads, page 31
68
Running at full tilt, Rohan rounded the corner of the old Murchison building in time to see Lena launch herself at Isabella DeCarlo.
Dammit!
If only he’d keyed in on the dispatch traffic coming through Maggie’s radio earlier, he might have caught the first mention of the fire’s location. But he’d been so caught up in Lena’s conversation with Izzy that everything else had been background noise.
The two women went crashing to the ground. Lena on top, Izzy below.
Phin and Deputy Sullivan moved in to break up the fight.
Rohan’s legs pumped harder. He heard the rapid tread of Maggie’s boots behind him. Cruz had stayed in the van to monitor the situation.
Beyond the combatants, a familiar brown-haired man walked past City Hall. Rather than craning to uncover what the commotion was ahead, he kept his attention on the giant plume of smoke. A self-congratulatory smile curled at the corners of his eyes. His lips pursed.
Desmond.
“The little bastard’s whistling.”
Rohan still reeled from the revelation that Desmond had sent the ransomware. Only this morning, he’d discovered the attack had been one hacker’s coordinated effort, leading him to speculate the Collective wasn’t a group of like-minded hactivists, but rather a single person’s game of vengeance.
“Who’s whistling?” Zeke asked.
“Desmond Locke. He’s headed your way, approaching the Mad Batter Bakery now.”
A short silence.
“No visual yet. Too many people in my line of sight.”
Rohan’s gaze shifted back to the street fight. Lena rained down blows as if she’d spent a lifetime in the boxing ring. Her fists hammered Izzy’s face, chest, stomach, anywhere the other woman’s defensive maneuvers left open.
The uproar finally wrested the whistling hacker’s attention away from what Rohan could only assume was his latest devastation. Desmond’s face lit up, as if the two women were mud wrestling for his entertainment alone. Then he spotted Rohan cutting across the street and his amusement fled.
Desmond’s eyes flared in recognition, and he halted. He must have seen something feral in Rohan’s expression, because he backed up a step. Then another.
“He’s going to run,” Rohan shouted.
Lena’s bloodcurdling scream of protest rent the air as Phin snaked an arm around her middle, lifting her off Izzy, while Deputy Sullivan moved in to assist the dazed and battered woman on the ground.
“Get away from me,” Izzy snapped through split lips.
The deputy backed off, and Izzy eased to her side. In a lightning swift move, Izzy drew a pistol from her handbag and pointed it at Lena’s head. The gun shook violently in her hand.
Time slowed, and Rohan’s mad sprint sputtered.
“I loved you like a sister!” Izzy struggled to her knees. Her long hair tangled around her face and her yellow button-down top sat askew on her frame. “And you threw it away for a guy who couldn’t do what needed to be done.”
“Simon didn’t have to die,” Lena yelled, still straining against Phin’s hold.
“Yes, he did!” Izzy lifted her other hand to steady the pistol. “You do, too.”
Rohan’s eyes locked with Lena’s, and the bloodlust in her eyes changed to fear, when she saw his intent.
“Izzy!” he roared.
The woman took the bait and turned toward the new threat.
Lena screamed, “Rohan, no!”
Phin threw Lena to the ground, covering her body with his at the same time Rohan plowed into Izzy, wrenching the gun from her hand.
The momentum sent the two of them tumbling, and Rohan grunted as his face slid across the concrete. The gun flew out of his hand and clattered against the pavement. He heard a hard thunk as Izzy’s head slammed into the sidewalk, then she went limp beneath him.
Stunned motionless, Rohan blinked several times before rolling into a sitting position. Speaking quickly into her shoulder mic, Maggie pulled a napkin off a nearby table and bent to pick up the weapon at her feet.
Phin released Lena from the barrier of his body, and she rushed to Rohan’s side.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Testing the area near his road rash, he winced. His face burned like hellfire. “I’ll live.” He gave her body a once-over. “Are you?”
She nodded.
Maggie motioned to the crowd. “Folks, give us some space. The ambulance will be here soon.” When everyone continued gawking through their cell phones, the sheriff nodded at the female deputy. “Move them back.”
The deputy made shooing motions with her outstretched arms, and the crowd slowly, reluctantly, gave them an extra six feet of breathing room.
Oncoming sirens blared their approach.
Rohan lifted Lena’s hand to his lips and kissed her swollen knuckles. “Wildcat, I nearly lost you.”
Tears gathered in Lena’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“My anger. After she bragged about Desmond’s scheme, then all but crowed about burning down my home, I—I snapped. I didn’t think. I just acted.” She swallowed hard. “You could’ve died because of my outburst.”
“If the worst had happened, Izzy, and Izzy alone, would’ve been to blame.” He pushed to his feet and drew her up with him. “Phin, have you heard anything from Zeke?”
“Not since before,” he waved toward the gun in Maggie’s hand, “all hell broke loose.”
Preferring not to use his comms to radio Zeke in front of a gossip-hungry crowd, he asked Phin, “Would you watch over Lena for a minute?”
“Absolutely.”
Lena twisted around. “Zeke went after Desmond?”
Even though she’d been in full-on berserker mode, she’d evidently caught some of their transmission.
He kissed her forehead. “Stay with Phin.”
Izzy stirred, and Maggie ordered a new-on-the-scene uniformed deputy to guard the injured woman until the paramedics arrived to assess her injuries.
“Come on, Phin,” Lena said and headed in the bakery's direction to find Zeke.
Phin barked out a laugh, and Rohan clenched his teeth as he stormed past her to take the lead.
The crowd thinned, then thickened again, just outside Mad Batter. Everyone seemed to be jockeying for a clear view of something on the sidewalk.
Zeke?
Rohan’s heartbeat faltered. Had he missed the echo of a gunshot? He searched his mind. No, he would’ve registered the report.
He picked up his pace, pushing through bodies until he breeched the circle.
Desmond sat on the ground with his elbows braced against his knees and his hands cradling his head. “You cracked my damned skull,” he whimpered to the tall blonde, bending to pick up the bakery’s often prophetic sidewalk sign.
“You deserved a lot worse for burning down my friend’s home.” Dressed in a sleek pale apricot jumpsuit and six-inch heels, Kayla Krowne assessed the sign for damage and attempted to stand it upright again.
Today’s chalky prophecy read, You can run from a caramel vanilla shake, but you can’t hide.
“If I were you, shithead,” Zeke said, “I’d be thanking Miss Krowne for using the sign to stop your flight and not one of her stilettos.”
Lena rushed into Kayla’s arms, and the two women hugged each other for a long while. When they pulled back, Lena said, “Thank you.”
“No need,” Kayla said. “I took a great deal more satisfaction from cracking his head than I should.”
Lena smiled. “Not just for stopping Desmond, but for helping me get Izzy’s confession.”
Kayla tamed a few wild wisps of Lena’s hair. “Any time.” She grinned. “Truly, anytime.”
“Confession to what?” Desmond whispered.
Rohan hauled the hacker to his feet. “Everything. Now it’s time to make arrangements for your one-star, all expenses paid accommodation at Craggy Prison.”
69
Inside the sheriff’s waiting room, Lena paced in front of the window overlooking Buckner Street, watching Steele Ridge’s residents going about their day as if a crazed woman hadn’t pulled a gun on Main Street less than an hour ago.
As if Lena’s home hadn’t burned down.
Everything she owned, gone. Everything except what she kept in her shoulder bag and what she’d brought with her to the cabin.
While she’d watched firefighters waging war against the flames, Rohan had held her in his arms, alternating between kissing her temple, rubbing her back, and assuring her she could use the cabin for as long as she needed.
She’d hugged him to her, taking all he offered. Thankful she wouldn’t have to start over alone, this time.
At least this go-round, she had the means to purchase new clothes and art supplies and rent another studio. Thanks to a climate-controlled storage unit she’d rented after landing in Steele Ridge, she had a ready stash of copies to sell as well.
Losing the apartment building hurt. Big time. The loft had begun to feel like a true home. A stable one.
But she’d rise from the ashes once again. Just like the fabled phoenix. It was what she did.
Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, matching her mood.
To her astonishment, no one from the local media had yet shown up. Either another story had taken precedent or the senator’s people had so far contained the incident.
After taking everyone’s statements, Maggie had ushered the others out the door. But one look at Lena and Rohan’s resolute expressions had conveyed to the sheriff that no amount of coaxing would remove them from the station.
Not until they knew for sure that Desmond and Izzy were staying behind bars tonight.
Behind her, Rohan sat in one of the uncomfortable blue floral chairs, tapping away on his laptop. He hadn’t looked up from the blue screen since wrapping her hands around a warm paper cup of tea soon after their arrival.
Now on her second tea and racking up steps by the minute, she waited for some small morsel of information. Although Maggie had a pretty open-and-shut case on Izzy, Desmond was a different story. Within minutes of arriving at the station, the hacker had demanded to file a report against Kayla for assault.
The wealthy lobbyist had smiled at Desmond’s tactic, then strode into the bullpen, sat down next to the handsomest man in uniform, and began telling her side of the story.
Desmond and Izzy now sat in separate interrogation rooms, and the radio silence was killing Lena.
The only proof they had against Desmond was Izzy’s word. Which, given the spectacle outside Triple B, wasn’t the soundest bit of evidence to present in front of a jury.
Boots scuffed against the tiled floor behind her, and Lena turned to find Maggie entering the waiting room.
“They’ve both lawyered up,” Maggie said.
Rohan set his laptop aside and rose to join them. “Did you get anything?”
“Other than to ask for a lawyer, Izzy hasn’t said a word since gaining consciousness and Desmond went silent after filing his report against Kayla. Now the bastard wears a perpetual smirk, as if we’re all too stupid to catch him.”
“Let me speak to him,” Rohan said.
“Absolutely not,” Maggie said. “We got a search warrant from Judge Naydah, and my deputies are at Locke’s place now. I’m sure they’ll find something incriminating.”
“I don’t have the same degree of confidence,” Rohan said.
When Maggie’s expression soured, Lena offered, “Rohan’s not referring to the competency of your employees. Desmond’s a professional hacker. He lives in the shadows. It’s doubtful he would have left anything for your deputies to find.”
Rohan nodded. “And you can be sure he locked down all his electronic devices. It would take days, if not weeks, for your techs to break through.”
“Then we’re dead in the water,” Maggie said.
“Give me fifteen minutes with him.”
“To do what?”
“It’s best if you don’t know.”
“You’re definitely not going near him now.”
He removed his glasses and pinched his nose. “Look, Maggie. I understand you don’t have any reason to trust a Blackwell, but I’m asking that you do so now. Just turn your back for a quarter hour, and I’ll have enough evidence against him to prosecute.”
The sheriff considered him for a long moment, and Lena held her breath. Whatever Rohan had up his sleeve, she hoped it was enough to get Desmond talking.
Maggie shook her head, and Lena’s heart splashed into her stomach.
“I’m not letting you into my interrogation room,” she glanced around her and lowered her voice, “but Desmond is due for a restroom break.”
Rohan’s face lit up as understanding dawned. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Ten minutes. That’s all I can give you.”
“I’ll make it work.”
“You’d better. His attorney will be here any second. As things sit right now, I’ll have to release him.”
Rohan bent to give Lena a quick, hard kiss, then scooped up his laptop and strode away.
“You okay here by yourself?” Maggie asked.
Lena mustered a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re not allergic to peanuts, we have peanut butter cookies in the break room. Best you’ll ever eat, compliments of my assistant, Shari, who’s also covering the front desk today.”
Her stomach growled, and she realized it had been hours since her last meal. “Thanks, a cookie sounds amazing.”
“I’ll let Shari know and she can buzz you through.” Maggie made to turn away, but Lena stopped her with a touch to her arm.
“Need something?”
“I wanted to say thank you. Without your help and open mind, I wouldn’t have had the courage to go through with the setup.”
“Any time I can remove another bad actor from my town, I’m happy to lend a hand. So don’t be shy if trouble comes around again.”
Lena grinned. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“I checked out your website, you know. Beautiful work.”
Warmth spread through Lena’s chest. “Name it, and I’ll paint a copy for you.”
“Maybe you could stop by my place sometime and make a suggestion on what might look good on our walls.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Time for me to give Desmond his break.”
Lena watched the sheriff stride in the same direction Rohan had gone minutes before. Despite the gravity of their current circumstance, Lena felt a paradoxical lightness in her heart as she returned to her vigil by the window.
The media still hadn’t yet caught wind of the region’s biggest scandal in a decade, which was fine with her. She didn’t need or want that kind of exposure.
The clouds opened up, dropping some much-needed rain over the area. Coiffed ladies raised bags over their heads as they scurried for cover and shopkeepers dragged in tables laden with their goods.
A gorgeous blue Bentley with blacked out rear windows pulled into one of the diagonal parking spaces in front of the sheriff’s office.
As she watched, a fit woman, wearing a black suit and white dress shirt, emerged from the front passenger side and snapped open an umbrella before turning to the back door, while a male driver, in a matching uniform, did the same on his side.
Something sparked in the back of Lena’s mind. A memory she couldn’t quite latch onto. A warning she recognized but couldn’t identify.
In a choreographed move, Blaise and Gerard Palmer appeared on opposite sides of the Bentley, buttoning their suit coats as they approached the station beneath raised umbrellas. Tall, handsome, and self-assured. They wore their status like a golden mantle for all to see.
The curly-haired woman moved ahead to open the door. Lena narrowed her gaze on the umbrella. On the unique white-and-black handle peeking out beneath the woman’s hand.
An exact replica of her favorite umbrella. The one she’d given to the woman waiting at the light with her several days ago.
Lena’s attention sharpened on the driver. Scars pocked his face, especially the lower half, as if he’d endured a nasty bout of chicken pox as a child—or severe acne. It was difficult to tell which through the rain-splattered window.
Scars. Curly hair. Driver. Passenger.
Long ago images began to crystalize and take shape.
Neil putting little Anjali in a backseat, a curly-haired woman warning Neil the boss wouldn’t be happy, the scarred driver grousing about someone tipping off the fleeing, now dead, couple.
Scarface and Curls might be two decades older, but Lena knew with absolute certainty they had been the ones with her and Neil in the vehicle that night. The ones who’d been contracted to kill her parents.
Her gaze shot to Blaise and Gerard Palmer.
But by whom?
70
As soon as Rohan heard Desmond at the urinal, he exited the stall and set his computer down on the sink counter.
While he let the faucet run, he stared at the man’s back through the mirror. All the fear and anger and shame he’d been experiencing since leaving the Collective rushed through his veins and coated his vision with red.
He considered his laptop for a moment. A solid hit to the temple with the aluminum alloy, and a for-good-measure jab to the trachea, would end Desmond’s reign of terror over his life once and for all.
The compulsion made his hands shake and his blood roar.
He drew in a lung full of air and slowly released it between his lips, then turned off the water.
It wasn’t Desmond’s time to die. Not yet. Not before Rohan got some answers.
When the hacker turned from the urinal, his eyes widened in surprise, then lowered as they traveled over Rohan’s body. “Bathrooms aren’t my personal preference,” Desmond said, moving closer. “For you, I’m willing to adapt.”
The provocative words sat in direct contrast to the simmering rage in the hacker’s eyes.
“I’ve witnessed your adaptation skills. Does Palmer know you’re fucking his fiancée?”
Desmond chuckled. “Palmer enjoys my unique skillset too much to protest my side interests, especially since Bella helped me perfect certain,” his smiled widened, “techniques.”
Running at full tilt, Rohan rounded the corner of the old Murchison building in time to see Lena launch herself at Isabella DeCarlo.
Dammit!
If only he’d keyed in on the dispatch traffic coming through Maggie’s radio earlier, he might have caught the first mention of the fire’s location. But he’d been so caught up in Lena’s conversation with Izzy that everything else had been background noise.
The two women went crashing to the ground. Lena on top, Izzy below.
Phin and Deputy Sullivan moved in to break up the fight.
Rohan’s legs pumped harder. He heard the rapid tread of Maggie’s boots behind him. Cruz had stayed in the van to monitor the situation.
Beyond the combatants, a familiar brown-haired man walked past City Hall. Rather than craning to uncover what the commotion was ahead, he kept his attention on the giant plume of smoke. A self-congratulatory smile curled at the corners of his eyes. His lips pursed.
Desmond.
“The little bastard’s whistling.”
Rohan still reeled from the revelation that Desmond had sent the ransomware. Only this morning, he’d discovered the attack had been one hacker’s coordinated effort, leading him to speculate the Collective wasn’t a group of like-minded hactivists, but rather a single person’s game of vengeance.
“Who’s whistling?” Zeke asked.
“Desmond Locke. He’s headed your way, approaching the Mad Batter Bakery now.”
A short silence.
“No visual yet. Too many people in my line of sight.”
Rohan’s gaze shifted back to the street fight. Lena rained down blows as if she’d spent a lifetime in the boxing ring. Her fists hammered Izzy’s face, chest, stomach, anywhere the other woman’s defensive maneuvers left open.
The uproar finally wrested the whistling hacker’s attention away from what Rohan could only assume was his latest devastation. Desmond’s face lit up, as if the two women were mud wrestling for his entertainment alone. Then he spotted Rohan cutting across the street and his amusement fled.
Desmond’s eyes flared in recognition, and he halted. He must have seen something feral in Rohan’s expression, because he backed up a step. Then another.
“He’s going to run,” Rohan shouted.
Lena’s bloodcurdling scream of protest rent the air as Phin snaked an arm around her middle, lifting her off Izzy, while Deputy Sullivan moved in to assist the dazed and battered woman on the ground.
“Get away from me,” Izzy snapped through split lips.
The deputy backed off, and Izzy eased to her side. In a lightning swift move, Izzy drew a pistol from her handbag and pointed it at Lena’s head. The gun shook violently in her hand.
Time slowed, and Rohan’s mad sprint sputtered.
“I loved you like a sister!” Izzy struggled to her knees. Her long hair tangled around her face and her yellow button-down top sat askew on her frame. “And you threw it away for a guy who couldn’t do what needed to be done.”
“Simon didn’t have to die,” Lena yelled, still straining against Phin’s hold.
“Yes, he did!” Izzy lifted her other hand to steady the pistol. “You do, too.”
Rohan’s eyes locked with Lena’s, and the bloodlust in her eyes changed to fear, when she saw his intent.
“Izzy!” he roared.
The woman took the bait and turned toward the new threat.
Lena screamed, “Rohan, no!”
Phin threw Lena to the ground, covering her body with his at the same time Rohan plowed into Izzy, wrenching the gun from her hand.
The momentum sent the two of them tumbling, and Rohan grunted as his face slid across the concrete. The gun flew out of his hand and clattered against the pavement. He heard a hard thunk as Izzy’s head slammed into the sidewalk, then she went limp beneath him.
Stunned motionless, Rohan blinked several times before rolling into a sitting position. Speaking quickly into her shoulder mic, Maggie pulled a napkin off a nearby table and bent to pick up the weapon at her feet.
Phin released Lena from the barrier of his body, and she rushed to Rohan’s side.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Testing the area near his road rash, he winced. His face burned like hellfire. “I’ll live.” He gave her body a once-over. “Are you?”
She nodded.
Maggie motioned to the crowd. “Folks, give us some space. The ambulance will be here soon.” When everyone continued gawking through their cell phones, the sheriff nodded at the female deputy. “Move them back.”
The deputy made shooing motions with her outstretched arms, and the crowd slowly, reluctantly, gave them an extra six feet of breathing room.
Oncoming sirens blared their approach.
Rohan lifted Lena’s hand to his lips and kissed her swollen knuckles. “Wildcat, I nearly lost you.”
Tears gathered in Lena’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“My anger. After she bragged about Desmond’s scheme, then all but crowed about burning down my home, I—I snapped. I didn’t think. I just acted.” She swallowed hard. “You could’ve died because of my outburst.”
“If the worst had happened, Izzy, and Izzy alone, would’ve been to blame.” He pushed to his feet and drew her up with him. “Phin, have you heard anything from Zeke?”
“Not since before,” he waved toward the gun in Maggie’s hand, “all hell broke loose.”
Preferring not to use his comms to radio Zeke in front of a gossip-hungry crowd, he asked Phin, “Would you watch over Lena for a minute?”
“Absolutely.”
Lena twisted around. “Zeke went after Desmond?”
Even though she’d been in full-on berserker mode, she’d evidently caught some of their transmission.
He kissed her forehead. “Stay with Phin.”
Izzy stirred, and Maggie ordered a new-on-the-scene uniformed deputy to guard the injured woman until the paramedics arrived to assess her injuries.
“Come on, Phin,” Lena said and headed in the bakery's direction to find Zeke.
Phin barked out a laugh, and Rohan clenched his teeth as he stormed past her to take the lead.
The crowd thinned, then thickened again, just outside Mad Batter. Everyone seemed to be jockeying for a clear view of something on the sidewalk.
Zeke?
Rohan’s heartbeat faltered. Had he missed the echo of a gunshot? He searched his mind. No, he would’ve registered the report.
He picked up his pace, pushing through bodies until he breeched the circle.
Desmond sat on the ground with his elbows braced against his knees and his hands cradling his head. “You cracked my damned skull,” he whimpered to the tall blonde, bending to pick up the bakery’s often prophetic sidewalk sign.
“You deserved a lot worse for burning down my friend’s home.” Dressed in a sleek pale apricot jumpsuit and six-inch heels, Kayla Krowne assessed the sign for damage and attempted to stand it upright again.
Today’s chalky prophecy read, You can run from a caramel vanilla shake, but you can’t hide.
“If I were you, shithead,” Zeke said, “I’d be thanking Miss Krowne for using the sign to stop your flight and not one of her stilettos.”
Lena rushed into Kayla’s arms, and the two women hugged each other for a long while. When they pulled back, Lena said, “Thank you.”
“No need,” Kayla said. “I took a great deal more satisfaction from cracking his head than I should.”
Lena smiled. “Not just for stopping Desmond, but for helping me get Izzy’s confession.”
Kayla tamed a few wild wisps of Lena’s hair. “Any time.” She grinned. “Truly, anytime.”
“Confession to what?” Desmond whispered.
Rohan hauled the hacker to his feet. “Everything. Now it’s time to make arrangements for your one-star, all expenses paid accommodation at Craggy Prison.”
69
Inside the sheriff’s waiting room, Lena paced in front of the window overlooking Buckner Street, watching Steele Ridge’s residents going about their day as if a crazed woman hadn’t pulled a gun on Main Street less than an hour ago.
As if Lena’s home hadn’t burned down.
Everything she owned, gone. Everything except what she kept in her shoulder bag and what she’d brought with her to the cabin.
While she’d watched firefighters waging war against the flames, Rohan had held her in his arms, alternating between kissing her temple, rubbing her back, and assuring her she could use the cabin for as long as she needed.
She’d hugged him to her, taking all he offered. Thankful she wouldn’t have to start over alone, this time.
At least this go-round, she had the means to purchase new clothes and art supplies and rent another studio. Thanks to a climate-controlled storage unit she’d rented after landing in Steele Ridge, she had a ready stash of copies to sell as well.
Losing the apartment building hurt. Big time. The loft had begun to feel like a true home. A stable one.
But she’d rise from the ashes once again. Just like the fabled phoenix. It was what she did.
Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, matching her mood.
To her astonishment, no one from the local media had yet shown up. Either another story had taken precedent or the senator’s people had so far contained the incident.
After taking everyone’s statements, Maggie had ushered the others out the door. But one look at Lena and Rohan’s resolute expressions had conveyed to the sheriff that no amount of coaxing would remove them from the station.
Not until they knew for sure that Desmond and Izzy were staying behind bars tonight.
Behind her, Rohan sat in one of the uncomfortable blue floral chairs, tapping away on his laptop. He hadn’t looked up from the blue screen since wrapping her hands around a warm paper cup of tea soon after their arrival.
Now on her second tea and racking up steps by the minute, she waited for some small morsel of information. Although Maggie had a pretty open-and-shut case on Izzy, Desmond was a different story. Within minutes of arriving at the station, the hacker had demanded to file a report against Kayla for assault.
The wealthy lobbyist had smiled at Desmond’s tactic, then strode into the bullpen, sat down next to the handsomest man in uniform, and began telling her side of the story.
Desmond and Izzy now sat in separate interrogation rooms, and the radio silence was killing Lena.
The only proof they had against Desmond was Izzy’s word. Which, given the spectacle outside Triple B, wasn’t the soundest bit of evidence to present in front of a jury.
Boots scuffed against the tiled floor behind her, and Lena turned to find Maggie entering the waiting room.
“They’ve both lawyered up,” Maggie said.
Rohan set his laptop aside and rose to join them. “Did you get anything?”
“Other than to ask for a lawyer, Izzy hasn’t said a word since gaining consciousness and Desmond went silent after filing his report against Kayla. Now the bastard wears a perpetual smirk, as if we’re all too stupid to catch him.”
“Let me speak to him,” Rohan said.
“Absolutely not,” Maggie said. “We got a search warrant from Judge Naydah, and my deputies are at Locke’s place now. I’m sure they’ll find something incriminating.”
“I don’t have the same degree of confidence,” Rohan said.
When Maggie’s expression soured, Lena offered, “Rohan’s not referring to the competency of your employees. Desmond’s a professional hacker. He lives in the shadows. It’s doubtful he would have left anything for your deputies to find.”
Rohan nodded. “And you can be sure he locked down all his electronic devices. It would take days, if not weeks, for your techs to break through.”
“Then we’re dead in the water,” Maggie said.
“Give me fifteen minutes with him.”
“To do what?”
“It’s best if you don’t know.”
“You’re definitely not going near him now.”
He removed his glasses and pinched his nose. “Look, Maggie. I understand you don’t have any reason to trust a Blackwell, but I’m asking that you do so now. Just turn your back for a quarter hour, and I’ll have enough evidence against him to prosecute.”
The sheriff considered him for a long moment, and Lena held her breath. Whatever Rohan had up his sleeve, she hoped it was enough to get Desmond talking.
Maggie shook her head, and Lena’s heart splashed into her stomach.
“I’m not letting you into my interrogation room,” she glanced around her and lowered her voice, “but Desmond is due for a restroom break.”
Rohan’s face lit up as understanding dawned. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Ten minutes. That’s all I can give you.”
“I’ll make it work.”
“You’d better. His attorney will be here any second. As things sit right now, I’ll have to release him.”
Rohan bent to give Lena a quick, hard kiss, then scooped up his laptop and strode away.
“You okay here by yourself?” Maggie asked.
Lena mustered a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re not allergic to peanuts, we have peanut butter cookies in the break room. Best you’ll ever eat, compliments of my assistant, Shari, who’s also covering the front desk today.”
Her stomach growled, and she realized it had been hours since her last meal. “Thanks, a cookie sounds amazing.”
“I’ll let Shari know and she can buzz you through.” Maggie made to turn away, but Lena stopped her with a touch to her arm.
“Need something?”
“I wanted to say thank you. Without your help and open mind, I wouldn’t have had the courage to go through with the setup.”
“Any time I can remove another bad actor from my town, I’m happy to lend a hand. So don’t be shy if trouble comes around again.”
Lena grinned. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“I checked out your website, you know. Beautiful work.”
Warmth spread through Lena’s chest. “Name it, and I’ll paint a copy for you.”
“Maybe you could stop by my place sometime and make a suggestion on what might look good on our walls.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Time for me to give Desmond his break.”
Lena watched the sheriff stride in the same direction Rohan had gone minutes before. Despite the gravity of their current circumstance, Lena felt a paradoxical lightness in her heart as she returned to her vigil by the window.
The media still hadn’t yet caught wind of the region’s biggest scandal in a decade, which was fine with her. She didn’t need or want that kind of exposure.
The clouds opened up, dropping some much-needed rain over the area. Coiffed ladies raised bags over their heads as they scurried for cover and shopkeepers dragged in tables laden with their goods.
A gorgeous blue Bentley with blacked out rear windows pulled into one of the diagonal parking spaces in front of the sheriff’s office.
As she watched, a fit woman, wearing a black suit and white dress shirt, emerged from the front passenger side and snapped open an umbrella before turning to the back door, while a male driver, in a matching uniform, did the same on his side.
Something sparked in the back of Lena’s mind. A memory she couldn’t quite latch onto. A warning she recognized but couldn’t identify.
In a choreographed move, Blaise and Gerard Palmer appeared on opposite sides of the Bentley, buttoning their suit coats as they approached the station beneath raised umbrellas. Tall, handsome, and self-assured. They wore their status like a golden mantle for all to see.
The curly-haired woman moved ahead to open the door. Lena narrowed her gaze on the umbrella. On the unique white-and-black handle peeking out beneath the woman’s hand.
An exact replica of her favorite umbrella. The one she’d given to the woman waiting at the light with her several days ago.
Lena’s attention sharpened on the driver. Scars pocked his face, especially the lower half, as if he’d endured a nasty bout of chicken pox as a child—or severe acne. It was difficult to tell which through the rain-splattered window.
Scars. Curly hair. Driver. Passenger.
Long ago images began to crystalize and take shape.
Neil putting little Anjali in a backseat, a curly-haired woman warning Neil the boss wouldn’t be happy, the scarred driver grousing about someone tipping off the fleeing, now dead, couple.
Scarface and Curls might be two decades older, but Lena knew with absolute certainty they had been the ones with her and Neil in the vehicle that night. The ones who’d been contracted to kill her parents.
Her gaze shot to Blaise and Gerard Palmer.
But by whom?
70
As soon as Rohan heard Desmond at the urinal, he exited the stall and set his computer down on the sink counter.
While he let the faucet run, he stared at the man’s back through the mirror. All the fear and anger and shame he’d been experiencing since leaving the Collective rushed through his veins and coated his vision with red.
He considered his laptop for a moment. A solid hit to the temple with the aluminum alloy, and a for-good-measure jab to the trachea, would end Desmond’s reign of terror over his life once and for all.
The compulsion made his hands shake and his blood roar.
He drew in a lung full of air and slowly released it between his lips, then turned off the water.
It wasn’t Desmond’s time to die. Not yet. Not before Rohan got some answers.
When the hacker turned from the urinal, his eyes widened in surprise, then lowered as they traveled over Rohan’s body. “Bathrooms aren’t my personal preference,” Desmond said, moving closer. “For you, I’m willing to adapt.”
The provocative words sat in direct contrast to the simmering rage in the hacker’s eyes.
“I’ve witnessed your adaptation skills. Does Palmer know you’re fucking his fiancée?”
Desmond chuckled. “Palmer enjoys my unique skillset too much to protest my side interests, especially since Bella helped me perfect certain,” his smiled widened, “techniques.”
