Annapolis, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 6.45 P.M.
The thud caught his attention and he turned from the view outside his porthole. He’d always loved this view, but now . . . it didn’t seem to matter. It hadn’t mattered since he’d lost Madeline. It had been two years. Two long years.
At least she hadn’t lived long enough to bury their son. She wouldn’t have survived that. I barely have.
‘Patton’s back.’
He turned to the chair in front of his desk where Kathryn sat, her legs crossed. She wore a pretty black cocktail dress that made her legs look long and elegant.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I think he’s delivered something I requested.’ Or, more accurately, someone. ‘You look lovely tonight. You should always wear dresses. I hated the uniform they made you wear at that club of Thorne’s.’
She smiled at him, a dimple creasing her cheek. ‘I don’t know. It made me feel badass, wearing all that leather. Although I gotta say the bra chafed and I couldn’t sit down in the pants. Still, I looked hot.’
In hindsight, he could have used a little more time to put his plan together. He’d had to do some things too quickly. He would have preferred to have Kathryn in place longer. The movement of money, the hiding of drugs behind the bar . . .
It had been sloppy. The charges against Thorne’s people would never stick, but that was okay. They’d get off lightly this time, but next time the police would be less inclined to believe the best of him.
And I’ll keep attacking. Slowly. Insistently. He had time, after all.
Nothing but time now.
Kathryn rose fluidly and came to put her arms around his neck. ‘I hate to see you like this,’ she whispered. ‘So damn sad.’
He shrugged. ‘It’ll pass.’
She rested her cheek against his shoulder. ‘Madeline wouldn’t have wanted this for you.’
‘No. Probably not.’
‘She warned me, you know. To watch for this.’
He leaned back to look down at her. Kathryn was lovely. Young, of course, with smooth alabaster skin and wide brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence. She was a good reader of people too. She was the one who’d told him to jettison Gage Jarvis the summer before. That he couldn’t be trusted.
She’d been right. She’d also warned him about Ramirez. The man had been weak, falling for Kathryn’s charms. Cheating on his wife. His pillow talk had ultimately doomed him, because he’d told her how devastated he’d been over the death of his nephew, the last male of their family. She picked up on the hate that I did not.
‘What did Madeline tell you to watch for?’
He’d never cheated on Madeline. At least not conventionally. His wife had been bedridden for much of the later years of her life. She’d known she would die and had hand-picked Kathryn, giving him her full blessing.
Kathryn had certainly made getting over her death easier. But on nights like this, he still missed his Madeline so much he ached with it.
‘Your melancholy.’ Kathryn caressed his face. ‘She said she’d have to drag you out of your own darkness sometimes. That I shouldn’t let you get too sad. I know you miss her. I know you miss Colin. But I’ve got something to cheer you up.’
She was kissing her way to his ear when they were interrupted by a knock. He sent her back to the chair with a reluctant wave and opened the door. ‘Yes, Mr Patton?’
‘He’s here.’ Patton indicated the punishment room with a jerk of his head. ‘Be careful. He’s waking up earlier than I expected.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Got me with his hard skull.’
‘Thank you. Where is Margo?’
‘She said she was working from home. The baby has a cold and she didn’t want to take him out. She’s got enough of Weaver’s shit to go through to keep her busy most of the night, she said.’
When he raised his brows, Patton rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, sir. Your grandson’s mother says “shit”. I’m sorry to break it to you.’
He found himself smiling. ‘I’ve heard her say it over the years. More times than she should have. Come back in a few hours. I’ll be done with Mr Nystrom by then.’
Patton gave him a salute, then jogged up the stairs, closing the door behind him. He turned back to Kathryn, his smile widening. ‘I think I’ve found a solution to my melancholy.’
She smiled back. ‘May I watch?’
He leaned in to give her an indulgent kiss. ‘Sure.’
‘Why are you killing Nystrom?’
‘Because he’s weak. He was questioned by Thorne this morning. He said all the right things, but he’ll crack if Thorne leans on him again. Especially after hearing about Hinman’s death. He was very scared, and scared men do stupid things.’
‘They expected you to trust them,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘But they sold you information on their friend. They really should have expected the knife in their own backs.’
‘Exactly.’ He tugged off his tie. ‘Should I use the knives or clubs?’
She toed off her shoes and unzipped her dress. ‘Why not both?’
He chuckled. ‘You are the best.’
She shimmied out of her dress, grinning at him. ‘I know.’ She paused, then sobered. ‘I’m worried about Margo.’
He laid his suit coat over his desk, turning to her with a frown. ‘How so?’
‘She’s been . . . off. I mean, yes, she should be sad because she misses Colin something awful, but it’s more than that. She’s working herself so hard. Being a mom is tough enough. I’ve tried to help her out, I’ve babysat Benny as often as I could. But she never rests, even when I’m there to watch him.’
Kathryn and Margo had always been close. Together they’d come up with the plans to infiltrate Thorne’s businesses when he’d refused to represent Colin, acting for the Freaks’ son instead and ultimately sending Colin to prison. Margo’s skill set had been perfect for an office manager, and she’d applied to Thorne’s firm as soon as it was certain that her alias would survive the background check.
Margo had been in her role as Thorne’s office manager much longer than Kathryn had worked at the club, and had been able to gain access to many more parts of Thorne’s business. Trust took time.
But he’d hated sharing Kathryn with Sheidalin, which was why it had taken him so long to allow her to work there. Once she had started, however, the girls had incorporated photos of Kathryn with Benny to flesh out ‘Laura the bartender’s’ social media presence. That way, she had a reason to keep strict hours and to reject social overtures. That way, she came home to him.
‘Do you think Margo needs a vacation?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Somewhere there is no Internet and she can’t work. Maybe we can pull up anchor and sail somewhere warm, sunny and exotic.’ Kathryn’s smile was impish. ‘She and I are both currently unemployed.’
He chuckled. ‘Plan something and run it by me. We’ll celebrate when this is over.’
She clapped her hands. ‘In the meantime, we party with Chandler Nystrom.’
Baltimore, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 7.00 P.M.
‘I’ll just be a minute,’ Gwyn said, unlocking her front door while Thorne, JD and Frederick hovered over her. She’d gotten used to the mild claustrophobia induced by their protection. ‘Poor Tweety. He’ll be crossing his legs for sure.’
‘I’ll walk him,’ Thorne said tersely. ‘You get his things together.’
She didn’t take any offense at his tone. She knew he was barely holding it together, wired so tightly he was about to snap. The news of the EMT’s death had hit him hard.
If I’d only told Hyatt and Joseph that Kiley saw the key ring, he’d whispered to her once Joseph had arrived to deal with Eileen Gilson and the four of them had returned to Gwyn’s. The police would have known that Kiley had critical information and they might have protected him.
Not your fault, she’d whispered back.
Brent Kiley had kept his secret for too many years and he’d paid for it. His fear for his family had been legitimate, but his refusal to do the right thing had led to the collapse of his marriage, leaving him alone with piles of empty pizza boxes and beer cans.
Thorne hadn’t let it go. I could have forced him. Like I just did with Eileen Gilson.
Maybe. But the EMT hadn’t cared about anything enough to be used for leverage. Eileen, on the other hand, did. Both her lifestyle and her son. Gwyn had disliked the woman on sight, and that Thorne had thought she’d been compassionate showed just how off-kilter he’d been thrown by this whole mess. Unable to convince him, she’d just held his hand, hoping that Eileen’s testimony would enable them to get a warrant.
He’d immediately called Christina Brandenberg, the sister of the still-missing Colton. She hadn’t answered his call and he’d left her a message that someone else related to their shared past had been murdered. He urged her to come forward, for protection if nothing else. And once again he begged for her help in finding her brother.
He even called the number he had for Chandler Nystrom, leaving him a warning message, despite the despicable way the former cop had treated him that morning.
Then he’d closed his eyes in silent misery, as Frederick brought them to Gwyn’s condo to collect her dog. They’d decided to stay with Clay because there was strength in numbers.
It felt desperate, because it was desperate. That Thorne was offering to walk her dog made a grim kind of sense. Because Tavilla wasn’t going to kill Thorne. He’d kill me and enjoy watching Thorne suffer.
‘I hope you left that animal some food,’ JD grumbled. ‘He always looks at me like I’m a pork chop.’
‘He does not.’ Chuckling, Gwyn pushed the door open and . . . froze. ‘Oh my God.’
Because her apartment was trashed. Completely trashed. Her sofa was ripped up, the leather knifed to ribbons, stuffing on the floor. The mirrors on the walls had been smashed, glass littering the carpet, which was also strewn with pictures ripped from the walls.
‘Tweety.’ She bolted into her apartment, only to have three sets of arms grab her back.
‘Stay here,’ JD ordered. ‘Frederick?’
‘I’ll hold onto her,’ Frederick promised, because Thorne had already gone running into the apartment.
Gwyn sagged into the older man, her breath coming in pants. Her home. Her safe place. Not anymore.
‘Did you set the alarm?’ Frederick asked her gently.
‘Yes, of course.’ Her voice broke. ‘I know I did.’
Frederick stroked her hair. ‘Try to breathe, honey.’
‘Found him!’ Thorne called. ‘He’s okay.’
Gwyn choked back a sob. ‘Thank God.’
Thorne and JD came back together. ‘It’s clear,’ JD said. ‘Come in, shut the door.’
‘I left Tweety in the bathroom,’ Thorne said, ‘until we clean up the glass.’
‘He’ll need to go out,’ Gwyn said, her mind refusing to comprehend the catastrophe she was seeing. ‘He needs to pee.’
‘He already did,’ Thorne said, taking her from Frederick’s arms into his own. ‘We can clean the bathroom. The rest of the place may be harder. It’s a mess. I’m so sorry.’
She reached around his neck, wishing for her heels just to get closer to him. He solved that by picking her up and holding her to his chest. She buried her face in his neck and breathed him in.
‘Not your fault,’ she whispered. ‘None of this is your fault.’
‘Did you have your laptop on your desk?’ JD asked.
‘No. I left it at Clay’s. I was using it to review the books Monday night.’ There was that then. Her documents were safe. Except . . .
Her gut clenched and she abruptly pushed away from Thorne. ‘Let me down.’ He immediately complied and she ran to her bedroom, throwing open her closet.
It was empty. Completely empty. Hangers were scattered on the floor and every shelf was bare. Oh God. Oh no. Her knees wobbled and she held on to Thorne, who’d been right on her heels.
It was gone. Her fire safe, holding her important papers. Her life. Her secrets. Could they open it? Probably. It had a keyed lock. Not terribly hard to jimmy.
And what would they find? Her birth certificate. Her passport. And all the newspaper clippings she’d collected over the years. Some of Thorne, a few of Lucy. One of herself, on the tightrope. But most were of Aidan. A few from his childhood, usually a grainy photo in a school newspaper about an award. The better clippings came when he’d entered high school. Number 54. Offensive line.
That whoever stole the safe could identify him was a given. His last name was on the back of his jersey. And if they figured out who he was to her? Less likely, but exact relationships weren’t necessary. The existence of the clippings screamed his importance. Her stomach twisted painfully. She needed to warn him. That could be complicated. I need to figure out how.
‘They took your clothes?’ Frederick asked, coming up behind them.
‘No,’ JD said. ‘They’re mixed in with bedclothes on the floor over there by the bed. But they’re trashed too. Ripped up. Sorry, Gwyn.’
She didn’t care about the clothes. Turning in a slow circle, she took in the smashed cosmetics and perfume bottles, the broken mirror, the mattress on which she and Thorne had first made love. It had received the same treatment as the sofa, slashed with a knife, stuffing everywhere.
And then she got the real message. Her gun safe stood open, but the guns were still there. ‘They knew my combination. That’s how they got past the alarm.’
‘You used the same combo for your security alarm as your gun safe?’ JD asked.
She nodded numbly.
‘The alarm was 0-2-1-7,’ Thorne said, because he’d always known it. He just didn’t know what it stood for. His voice became thoughtful. Questioning. ‘I never knew your safe was the same combo.’
‘Yes,’ was all she could say.
‘Who else knew?’ JD asked, his phone out, ready to call this in to BPD.
‘Lucy. That’s it. Except . . .’ She turned away from the open safe to the less upsetting mess on her dresser. ‘Anne. She came home with me once. I had car trouble and Thorne and Lucy were busy. She said she had to use the bathroom, so I asked her to come up. She could have seen me put in my alarm code.’
‘When did this happen?’ JD asked. ‘At the club? Because you haven’t worked at the firm in a couple of years.’
‘I still worked there from time to time as a paralegal. When Thorne or Jamie had really sensitive cases they didn’t trust to anyone else.’
‘Right,’ JD murmured. ‘You told Hyatt that on Sunday when Thorne was in the hospital. I thought you were lying, actually.’
She glanced up at him sharply. ‘You would have let me lie?’
JD nodded soberly. ‘To protect Thorne? Hell, yeah.’
She was able to smile about that. ‘Thank you.’
‘But how did Anne get past your dog?’ Frederick asked.
Gwyn shrugged. ‘He knows her. She always had a treat for him, every time we came into the office or every time she brought papers to the club for Thorne to sign. I thought her giving him treats was sweet at the time, but now . . .’
Thorne threaded his fingers through her hair. ‘We can replace everything.’
‘Not everything. I had a fire safe. On the closet shelf. It had all my important papers in it.’ Her stomach gave another heave. God.
‘Did it have the same combination?’ Frederick asked.
‘No. I had a key.’ Her voice was calm now, surprising her. ‘But if she was able to copy a key to my apartment – which I assume she did, since she managed to disable the alarm – she probably has a key to the fire safe too.’
Thorne had his hand around the back of her neck, providing just enough pressure to reassure without any pain. ‘Do we need to stay here?’ he asked JD. ‘I’d like to get her back to Clay’s.’
JD nodded. ‘Yeah. Let’s lock up. I’ll request a uniform to stand watch until we can get CSU here to process the scene.’ He smiled sadly at Gwyn. ‘Looks like we’re both going clothes shopping soon.’
‘Looks like.’ A whimper caught her attention, followed by scratching. ‘Poor Tweety. We’re lucky he hasn’t dug through the door.’
‘He tried.’ Thorne took her hand. ‘I think your bathroom will need a severe overhaul when this is over.’
Please God, let that be soon. They were fraying at the ends. All of them.
They could only maintain vigilance for so long before one of them made a mistake. Got hurt. Or worse. And then Thorne would wish he was dead.
Which was exactly what Tavilla wanted.
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 9.30 P.M.
Thorne threw his phone on the dresser in the guest room he and Gwyn were sharing in Clay’s basement. He had to take a moment to breathe. To calm himself. She didn’t need his frustration now. She’d had a shock of her own. Her home had been invaded, her sanctuary destroyed.
Still fully clothed, she lay on the bed, propped up by pillows. Tweety sat on the floor, his chin on the edge of the bed, watching her. As if he too knew she needed extra care tonight.
She looked up from her laptop. ‘Anything?’ she asked cautiously. She was still too pale, her brow furrowed in worry.
He knew the feeling.
‘No.’ He sat down on the bed, forearms on his knees, and hung his head, huffing a tired chuckle when Tweety shifted his chin from the edge of the bed to his knee. He scratched the dog behind his ears. ‘I tried to call them both again. Both Nystrom and Christina Brandenberg. Both went to voicemail. Hers rang like ten times, but his just went straight to voicemail.’
‘She’s ignoring you then. He’s either blocked you or turned off his phone.’
‘I know. I just . . . God, Gwyn. I don’t want anyone else to die.’
‘I know, baby.’ She put the laptop aside and crawled so that she could drape her body over his back, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. ‘I know.’
‘I asked Alec to search for Colton Brandenberg. I don’t know what else to do at this point.’
‘Hopefully Alec can work his magic for us,’ she murmured, sounding so totally not like herself that he twisted abruptly to catch her face in his hands.
‘We will stop this,’ he promised. ‘We have to.’
She nodded, leaning into his palm, then jerked away at the knock on their door. ‘Yes?’ she called.
‘It’s me,’ Alec said through the door. ‘You guys decent?’
Thorne felt his cheeks actually heat. ‘Yes,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘Come in.’
Alec stuck his head in tentatively, then opened the door wider so that he could enter. ‘I found Brandenberg.’
Thorne blinked. ‘So quickly? How?’
Alec gave him a look that was slightly annoyed. ‘Because I’m damn good at my job? I figured that if he’d gotten so upset that he had to be medicated during your trial—’
‘Wait,’ Gwyn interrupted. ‘What?’
‘I read the transcripts and I read Jamie’s notes. The behavior Jamie described sounded like a friend of mine who was on serious sedatives for anxiety and depression. Maybe even bipolar. I never asked him about his diagnosis. But he was a zombie, just like Jamie described Brandenberg. I figured if he was that upset, maybe we couldn’t find him because he’d changed his name. Just like you did.’
God, the kid is good. ‘Had he?’
‘Yep. I played with a few variations, looked at name-change records in Maryland around that time, and bada-bing. I sent the information to your phones.’ Alec paused a second, his gaze resting on Gwyn a few seconds longer than seemed necessary. ‘Okay?’
She nodded. ‘Sounds great, thanks. What’s his new name, and where is he?’
‘He is now Brandon Colt. He’s an old-fashioned country doctor, lives in Appalachia. Has a traveling practice. He works with communities in need. I sent you a link to an article that someone wrote about him last year. He owns a twenty-year-old truck and that’s it. No address, no property records. The reporter was doing a series on lung ailments in the old mining towns and mentioned him. Said he was “unfailingly humble” and didn’t want any credit.’
‘Penance,’ Thorne said quietly. This he understood.
‘That’s what I took away,’ Alec agreed. ‘Kind of like all the pro bono work you do. You were just lucky enough to have Jamie’s financial support coming out of your trial. Looks like Dr Colt has no one.’
‘Very few people have no one,’ Gwyn said. ‘His sister knows where he is. She just didn’t want to tell us.’
‘Fair enough. I found a phone number for him, but it went to voicemail when I called. I used a burner number, so he might not take calls from numbers he doesn’t know, but I kind of doubt that, him being a doctor and all.’
‘Thank you, Alec,’ Thorne said sincerely. ‘We have one more place to start in the morning.’
‘You’re welcome. One other thing.’ He took a few steps into the room, handing them each a Post-it note. ‘I’ve set all the house alarms. If you need to leave, use this code or the screeching will really hurt your ears.’
Gwyn took her note and folded it in half. ‘Not your ears?’
He grinned. ‘Nope. My room is rigged with a bed shaker and strobe lights that are activated with the alarm. When I take off my processors, I hear nothing. And I’m about to take them off for the night.’ He waggled his brows. ‘Just . . . give me two minutes to get settled before you two start anything, okay?’
He pulled the door shut, leaving both of them staring after him.
‘Well,’ Gwyn said with a half-laugh. ‘That was subtle.’
Thorne blew out a breath. Because he really wanted to start something with her. To lose himself in her body and get out of his own head. For just a little while. He’d wanted it all day, but now . . . She’d had a shock. She wasn’t herself.
But she’d also challenged him not to assume.
Cautiously he reached for her, sighing his relief when she crawled into his lap and put her arms around his neck. ‘We’ve got about a minute and a half that we have to be quiet,’ she said. ‘We can neck till then.’
He smiled at her. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
She arched one brow. ‘You mean I was right not to get on Joseph’s plane this afternoon?’
He kissed her lightly. ‘No. I still wish you were safe. But if you had to be stubborn, I’m glad you’re here with me.’ He rested his forehead against hers. ‘I really need to escape my own head right now,’ he confessed.
‘Me too. But . . .’ She drew a breath. ‘I need to tell you something. And it’s not going to be simple.’
He stilled, because he’d sensed something like this was coming. Ever since she’d looked into her closet and seen that her fire safe was gone. ‘What was in the safe, Gwyn?’
‘You noticed.’
‘Yeah. You didn’t care about anything else. Just the fire safe. Why? Birth certificates are replaceable.’
‘I know. Just about everything in the safe was technically replaceable. But if Anne, or whoever the hell she really is, opens that box, it . . . well, it gives them ammunition to use against me. To make me suffer. Which makes you suffer.’
He sat back, waiting. The dog, also sensing her distress, leaned against Thorne’s leg, his head on Gwyn’s thigh. Absently she stroked his ears. ‘I ran away from home when I was sixteen.’
‘That I knew. To join the circus.’
‘Well, actually it was to follow a boy. A man. He’d just graduated from the University of Maryland. He’d gone there on a music scholarship.’
‘So he was older. Like, twenty-one?’
‘Twenty-three. My father forbade me from seeing him, more because he had long hair and played the guitar than because he was older than me. So of course seeing him was what I wanted to do most in the world. I was rebellious.’
‘That I also knew,’ he said dryly.
Her lips tipped up. ‘Yeah, yeah. I fell for this guy. He had a job on the boardwalk at Ocean City, playing in a band at one of the clubs. That’s where I met him. I liked to hitch a ride into Ocean City because it was a lot more exciting than Anderson Ferry, where I grew up.’
Thorne knew about Anderson Ferry, because it was also where Lucy had grown up. ‘It doesn’t sound like a welcoming place.’
‘Not if you didn’t fit in. Which Lucy and I certainly didn’t. Anyway, I met Terrence that summer and we . . . got it on.’
‘You were sixteen,’ he said flatly, not wanting to picture her with anyone else, especially a long-haired musician.
‘I told him I was eighteen. He bought me beer. We had sex. It was supposed to be a fling, but then my dad found out I was seeing him and had a cow. I kept seeing him and my dad was exceedingly unhappy. My father was a believer in strict discipline. A church-going man. When he was unhappy, he hit with a belt or made us cut our own switch, which was . . . abuse. When he got drunk, his hits became serious abuse.’
Thorne gritted his teeth, hating that they had parental abuse in common. ‘How often did he get drunk?’
‘A lot. I pushed him. But that’s no excuse. He hit me hard when he found out I was seeing Terrence. I mean, really hard. I ended up dragging myself over to see Lucy’s mother. She was our town doctor then.’
Thorne swallowed hard, fighting to keep a lid on his fury, because he wanted to drive to Anderson Ferry and tear Gwyn’s father’s head right off his neck. ‘I know. I met her at Lucy and JD’s wedding. Did she report your father?’
‘No. She asked me if I wanted to report him, but I said no, so she just cleaned and stitched my cuts and bandaged me up. I told her that I wanted to get away, and she loaned me some money. I hitched a ride into Ocean City and went to Terrence’s room at the boarding house. He took one look at me and wanted to kill my father.’ She stroked Thorne’s tight jaw. ‘Kind of like you do right now.’
He swallowed again. ‘The thought has entered my mind.’
‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘Turned out Terrence was getting ready to go home. To Sarasota. His parents had supported him getting his degree, but agreed that he’d come home after graduation to be part of the family act again. He belonged to a circus family. Tightrope walkers. Terrence was also an archer. Did a William Tell type act where he shot an apple off his assistant’s head.’
Thorne’s brows shot up. He’d never heard this part of her circus story. ‘Were you his assistant?’
‘I was. And I was fabulous.’
‘I’ll just bet,’ he grumbled.
‘No need for jealousy. He’s been out of the picture for almost twenty years. But that year, he took me home with him to Sarasota. It’s a circus town, you know. The winter home of Ringling when it was operating. Huge circus museum. Used to even have a clown college. Lots of circus people still live there. Anyway, his mom took me in. Fussed over me. His dad wanted to kill mine when Terrence told them what happened. They were nice people.’
‘Were?’
‘Yeah, they died in a hit-and-run. They were tightrope performers, but they died crossing the damn street a few months after Terrence and I had left the circus. I traveled with them for a couple of years, until I was eighteen. Worked for my keep. Started out sweeping and shoveling shit, but I had some skills. I’d done gymnastics in high school. Dreamed of the Olympics, but we never had the money for that kind of coaching. But I wasn’t bad, and I was . . . flexible.’
‘Of this I am well aware,’ Thorne said, hoping to pull a small smile to her mouth.
She did smile, just a little. ‘Yeah, well. There was this woman there who did a contortionist act. She trained me and I was good. I could get out of all kinds of locked boxes and tied ropes. Learned to pick locks, get free of chains.’
‘That’s how you knew how to pick locks when we’d go undercover, investigating for the firm?’
‘Yep. Picking locks is a bankable skill. I was cute back then. Made good tips.’
‘You’re cute now.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I wanted to try the tightrope, though. Which did not end well.’
‘You got hurt.’
‘Yeah. There was a net, but one of the other performers fell on top of me. My back still aches when it gets cold. But the hospital needed my medical records and it came out that I was just eighteen. Which meant I’d lied about my age. I agreed to quit so that the circus – and Terrence’s family – wouldn’t get into any trouble for hiring me without proper ID. Terrence wasn’t happy, though, and he’d lost his archery target. He wanted to leave. His parents were chill, and they kissed us both and gave us a little cash, and off we went. Terrence had put together a band and I played piano and sang. At the beginning, I only knew church hymns, but I learned a few things from Terrence.’
He growled. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about him.’
She sighed. ‘You have to, because none of that was in the fire safe.’
‘What was?’
‘I got pregnant. I was eighteen. And a half. He and I had been traveling with the band for about six months. I went to tell him the news and found out that I wasn’t his only port in a storm.’
Thorne was still stuck on ‘pregnant’. She’d never mentioned a baby, so either she’d never had it or she’d put it up for adoption. He gathered his wits, though, because she’d stopped talking. He latched onto the topic that felt less like a minefield. ‘Terrence was cheating.’
‘Yeah. With one of the other singers. I hated her. I threw a hysterical fit and she left. I told him about the baby and he wanted me to get rid of it. I couldn’t. I know some women do and I support their choice, but it wasn’t right for me. He gave me an ultimatum. So I left and went home to Anderson Ferry. My mother and father were not happy to see me. And when I told them I was pregnant, they threw me out.’
Thorne clenched his teeth so hard that a sharp pain speared his jaw. ‘I really hate your parents, Gwyn.’
‘Me too. I didn’t have anywhere to go. Terrence’s parents were gone. I had one great-aunt in Baltimore. My mother’s aunt, who they rarely spoke of except to pray for her immortal soul. I found her and she took me in, no questions asked.’
‘Your Aunt Aida. Your letters for Sheidalin.’
‘Kind of. I loved my aunt, but she was much older and in bad health. I got my GED while I was pregnant, but I had no real business skills. She helped me see that I couldn’t provide a good home for a baby and that I needed to be able to fend for myself, because she wasn’t going to be around for much longer. She might have been the family bad girl, but she had the kindest heart. She knew some people who knew some people, you know? And through them we met the couple who adopted him.’
Him. ‘You had a boy?’ he asked, unprepared for how much the question hurt.
‘Yeah. I named him Aidan, after my aunt. The couple liked the name and kept it.’
‘That’s your I-D-A, then,’ he said, and she nodded. ‘What happened to the family?’
‘They’re in Virginia, near Richmond. Aidan just graduated from high school. He’s going to Virginia Tech next year to play football.’
‘So what was in the fire safe? Pictures of him?’
‘I only have one photo and it was in there, but it was just a copy. The original is in my safe deposit box at the bank. That’s the only picture I have of me holding him. The rest are newspaper clippings. Most of them are from his high school football games.’
‘You ever see him play?’
She closed her eyes, but not before he saw the pain there. ‘Once. Just once. I couldn’t stay. It hurt too much. It was a big game. Homecoming. Lots of people there and it was cold, so I could wrap a scarf around my face. No chance of his parents seeing me. I didn’t want to intrude. I just wanted to see him. But I had to leave.’
He could imagine her sitting all alone in the stands, her heart breaking. His was breaking just listening to her. ‘Did you see him any other times?’
‘Occasionally, yes. Sometimes – and I’m not proud of this – I’d go to his neighborhood and watch for a glimpse of him. Just playing. I wanted to be sure he was okay. That he was happy. That they really were good people. He was always smiling.’
He sighed, picturing that too. ‘You think Anne will be able to open the fire safe?’
‘I’d be shocked if she hasn’t already. Other than you and Lucy, that boy means more to me than anyone else in this world. If I were them and I were trying to figure out how best to hurt you, I’d pick me. And with Lucy now out of reach, Aidan is the only one they can use to hurt me.’
‘We should contact his parents then.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that. I . . .’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t, though.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he was eighteen in February.’
Oh. Oh God. ‘The seventeenth is his birthday?’ 0-2-1-7. How many times had he entered that alarm code without knowing what it stood for?
She nodded. ‘His parents said they’d tell him about me when he turned eighteen and leave it up to him whether to contact me. He’s been eighteen for four months now and I’ve heard nothing.’
‘Maybe they didn’t tell him.’
She shrugged. ‘All the more reason I shouldn’t call them. I don’t want them to think I’m pressuring them. That wouldn’t be fair. Plus, what if he picks up? That could be awkward, and even more unfair to him. I was going to ask Jamie to contact them, as my lawyer. But . . . you could, if you wanted.’
If he wanted . . . Yeah, he wanted to do this for her. He hoped he was strong enough. ‘I’ll ask Alec to get me the number.’
‘He already did. He sent it to my phone.’
‘Oh. That’s what that look was for.’
‘Yeah. He was trying to preserve my privacy. He didn’t ask who they were.’
‘Alec’s a good kid.’ He tilted her chin up, kissed her gently. ‘You know this doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?’
She swallowed hard. ‘I’d hoped it wouldn’t,’ she whispered.
‘You did what was best for Aidan.’ He remembered the early years, right after he’d met her. She’d struggled to make ends meet. Struggled to get her degree, to make a life for herself. She’d been too proud to accept his help, had eaten a steady diet of ramen for the first year or two. ‘He’s had a good life, right?’
Her nod was shaky. ‘I believe so, and I’ve watched. Carefully. Later, after I had my degree, I wanted to change my mind. I wanted him back, but I couldn’t have done it, even if I’d had a legal leg to stand on, which I didn’t. He was happy. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s been happy.’
She reached for the dog, palming the side of his head as he leaned against them, once again sensing her mood. ‘I’ve been hoping to hear from him for months. But if I don’t, I’ll be okay. Just the hope . . .’ She faltered. ‘I woke up the morning he turned seventeen and grieved, like I always have. Then . . . I looked around and knew I’d fallen so far into depression, retreated so far from life that even if he did seek me out, I’d be no good for him. I had a year to get good enough. I figured that it had taken me three years to get as bad as I was, that digging my way out wasn’t going to happen overnight, but that I could do it in a year.’
‘You had a goal,’ he murmured. Would she have worked so hard to dig her way out for me if I’d had the courage to tell her how I really felt four years ago? Probably not. She hadn’t been ready then to embrace that part of her that Evan had stolen. But motherly love . . . He thought of Stevie and Lucy and Paige with their babies. That was powerful. Powerful enough to yank Gwyn toward the light.
‘I did. I found the therapist and then I found Tweety.’ She smiled. ‘And then I found you. Right where you’d been all along.’
He opened his mouth to say something wise. Something comforting. But all that came out was a hoarse ‘I’m so glad you did.’ Because he hadn’t been sure how much longer he could have lasted.
‘Me too.’ She drew a breath, checked the time. ‘We should call them now, even though it’s late. If something happens during the night, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.’ She handed him her phone, Alec’s email opened, before sliding off his lap.
‘You want to be here while I call?’
‘No. I think I’ll go upstairs and get some water. Come on, Tweety.’
Annapolis, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 10.05 P.M.
He zipped his trousers, feeling languid and well rested after fucking Kathryn in his shower. Kathryn lounged on the sofa behind him, looking long-leggedly sexy in his shirt. She’d been especially passionate tonight, because for her, watching him dismember a man was an aphrodisiac. It was just one of the things he’d come to love about her.
Nystrom was dead, his body cooling in the punishment room. Patton would deal with him in the morning.
‘What are you going to do about Thorne?’ Kathryn asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly. ‘He’s whisked all his people away. I know where they are, but getting to them will be tricky. They’re getting wise about texts too, so we’ll have to come up with something else.’
She shrugged. ‘They can’t keep their families separated forever. They’ll come home, they’ll return to normal, and when they least suspect it, you’ll get them again. In the meantime, you’ve got his clients angry with him and his club is closed.’
‘You’re right,’ he said, smiling. ‘Are we staying here tonight or going home?’
‘Let’s go home. I mean, Nystrom was fun while he was screaming, but now, knowing he’s dead and getting nasty is kind of a turnoff.’
He didn’t care much. The sight of a cooling corpse had never bothered him. ‘Give me my shirt then,’ he said. He grabbed his cell phone from his desk to slide it into his pocket, but noticed a new text from Margo, accompanied by two photos: one a grainy picture of a young man in an American football uniform, the second of a woman holding a baby. He flicked the screen to expand the photo, then realized the woman was a very young Gwyn Weaver.
Found you something, the text read. His name is Aidan. What do you want me to do with him?
He smiled and held out the phone to Kathryn, who’d tugged on her black dress and was now handing him his shirt.
‘Oh, Margo,’ she cooed. ‘She hit gold.’ She gave the phone back. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘What do you think I should do?’
‘Have Patton pick him up,’ Kathryn decided after a moment of thought. ‘Drug him and leave him somewhere to be found.’ She smiled. ‘Just to show her that you can. Send her a photo. That’ll hurt her enough for now. You don’t want to break her yet. She’s Thorne’s favorite. You want to torment her until she has no choice but to leave him. Because she’ll have to blame him sooner or later.’
‘I like it.’ He texted Margo the instructions, then added: Good work. Get some sleep, my dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 10.05 P.M.
Thorne waited until he’d heard Gwyn climb the stairs, then dialed the number for Aidan’s adopted family.
‘Hello?’ a man answered.
‘Hello. I’d like to speak to Randy York.’
‘If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.’
‘I’m not,’ Thorne said quickly. ‘Please give me just a moment. My name is Thomas Thorne. I’m sorry to be calling so late. Gwyn Weaver asked me to contact you.’
The man sucked in an audible breath. ‘I know who you are. You’re Gwyn’s partner. The one who’s wanted for murder.’
Thorne had to take a second to regroup. He should have anticipated that people outside the city had read about their situation. ‘That is not entirely correct. I am Gwyn’s partner.’ In every way. ‘But I am not wanted for murder.’
‘That’s not what I hear on the news.’
Thorne pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Well, I can give you references in Baltimore PD and the FBI and you can check for yourself. For now, I’m calling on Gwyn’s behalf. If you’ve been following this story in the news, you’ll know that my family, my friends and my businesses have been targeted.’
A beat of silence. ‘You’re saying someone’s trying to set you up?’ The man’s doubt was clear.
‘Call Special Agent Joseph Carter. He’ll give you the truth. For now, I am calling on behalf of Gwyn,’ he repeated. ‘Please, Mr York. This is important.’
‘What? What does Gwyn want?’ Now there was fear in the man’s voice.
‘To warn you. Her apartment was broken into tonight. Ransacked. Her safe with her important papers were stolen. Among them were some newspaper clippings of your son she’d collected over the years. It may be nothing, but she’s worried that they’ll go after Aidan to hurt her. Which will hurt me.’
‘That’s . . . preposterous.’
‘My other business partner, Lucy Fitzpatrick, barely escaped a burning house with her two children this afternoon. Her son isn’t quite three. He is my godson. Her daughter is almost one. She is Gwyn’s goddaughter.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘My adopted father is in a cardiac care unit because someone broke into his home and attacked him. One of my investigators has a concussion and the officer who was guarding them is still in critical condition after being shot.’
‘Oh. Oh no.’ He dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. ‘And you think these people will hurt Aidan?’
‘Like I said, it could be nothing, but she wanted you to be aware so that Aidan could be on his guard. She figured he’d still be living at home, that he wouldn’t have left for college yet.’
‘Yes, he’s still here.’
‘That’s good. That will ease her mind. You can tell him what you wish. But she trusts that your first priority will be to keep him safe.’
An extended exhale. ‘All right. My wife and I will discuss what we’ll tell him. For now, he’s safe in his room. Do the police have any suspects?’
‘I . . . I don’t know. I’d suggest you call Agent Carter for that information.’ He gave the man Carter’s phone number.
‘I’ll call him first thing in the morning. Why . . . why didn’t Gwyn call us herself?’
‘Because she didn’t want to put you on the spot. And she didn’t want to risk Aidan answering. She especially doesn’t want to pressure him.’
‘That’s kind of her.’ He hesitated a few beats. ‘We told him. When he was eighteen. We told him that we’d adopted him. We told him what we knew about his birth mother. His reaction was . . . typically Aidan. He’s a stoic kid. Keeps his emotions close to the vest.’
‘Like his mother,’ Thorne said softly. ‘Look. Gwyn suffered a terrible trauma four years ago. It was the knowledge that Aidan was turning eighteen soon that helped her find her way back to who she’d been before.’
‘I know about that. I keep up with her too. In the news, I mean. My wife and I were so glad to read that she was all right after that attack.’
She wasn’t all right, Thorne thought. She’s not totally all right even now. But she will be. He’d make sure of it.
‘I’m not telling you this so that you feel pressured either. I just want you to know that Aidan continues to be important to her. If he ever chooses to meet her, she’ll be ready. For now, it’s important that he’s kept safe.’
‘Thank you. Can I reach you at this number? The one you called me from?’
‘For now, yes. It’s a temporary line. You can also reach me through Agent Carter.’
‘Thank you for calling. I hope you work through all this soon.’
‘So do I.’