Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) (25 page)

I calmly pour milk into my coffee and sip. “Why would I? I’m not getting involved.”

H
appily, Lucas Hargreaves managed to change his flight not long after our call this morning, and he’s due to land in Austin around dinnertime. Going downtown at rush hour on a Saturday is the absolute last thing I want to do, but he probably had to pay out his asshole to change the flight, so it’s the least Drake and I can do.

Plus, if he has some answers, I’m willing to take the questions.

And GiGi’s. I’m going early so I can go to GiGi’s.

My priorities are so right.

Until then, I’m at a bit of a dead end. It’s not like I can read through his letters now, because there’s nothing in there he won’t be able to tell me himself in a few hours. I’m up to date on all casework since house-husband Dave and lawyer-wife Denise went on vacation this morning to Disney World, and I’ve even sent everything my accountant needs.

I’m so organized that I don’t know what I’m doing.

That’s why I have a to-do list, I suppose. I grab it to scan it.

Pick paint for the kitchen.
Uhh, no.

Buy new picture for waiting room.
Hmm... I’ll designate that to Grecia. She has better taste than I do.

New logo.

Oooh. New logo. That sounds like fun.

I slip my shoes on and head down the hall toward Carlton’s office.

“Die, motherfucker! Jesus Christ, pieces of shit!”

I blink rapidly as I eke his door open.

“Fuck you!”

“Should I come back when you’re not abusing random people online?” I ask, smiling.

“No. You’re good. They’re all shitty.” He taps the keys and hits his mouse. “What’s up?”

“Are you any good at graphic design?”

“It was my minor. Why?”

Of course it was. “I want to rebrand and I don’t feel like paying someone who won’t listen to me. I have Bek for that.”

He snorts. “Okay. What are you thinking?”

“Something simple and eye-catching. I don’t want anything fancy. Something recognizable that I can put outside, on business cards, on fliers, on pens, and in ads.”

“Nothing much, then.”

“Not really.” I smile sweetly. “Can you do it?”

Slowly, he nods. “Give me a couple of days and I’ll come up with something. Gotta be better than fighting idiots online.”

I would imagine there are a lot of things better than fighting idiots online, but I don’t say it out loud. I give him a thumbs-up and a, “Thank you!” and then back out of his office, pulling his door closed once again.

I should probably be more annoyed that he plays games at work, but honestly, we don’t need him all the time. The problem is I never know when we’re gonna need him, so it’s handy to have him around. Like now, when I want to rebrand but don’t want to pay anyone.

Maybe I’ll have him fix up the website after he’s done.

Yeah. He can rebuild the website.

See? I can give him jobs to do. I’m so thoughtful.

I snort at myself and go back into my office.

My quiet afternoon quickly turns around with several phone calls. There are also a handful of visits from Mike and Dean to chat about cases, give me checks to cash, and hand me closed cases to file downstairs. Why they couldn’t both do everything in one visit, I’ll never know, but I’d bet it all slipped their minds.

Soon enough, before I can blink, everyone is done for the day and I’m locking the building at four. It’s more than enough time to get across town to meet Drake at home, get changed, and head into Austin to meet Lucas.

And I’m not saying I’m going to slip a Silvio-sized Cowboys jersey into my trunk at some point between here and our meeting, but... Just in case. Mom’s flippant comment makes sense. If I showed up to my brother’s house with a signed Hargreaves jersey, it would give me the Best Aunt title for the rest of my life.

For what it’s worth, that’s a title I want.

Badly.

By the time Drake gets home, I’ve changed, put a load of laundry in the washing machine, and found a place in Austin that has Hargreaves jerseys in stock.

He shakes his head when I tell him what I’m hoping, but he doesn’t rebuke the idea. Instead, he tells me to grab two bottles of water while he quickly gets changed. I guess we’re going for dinner after we meet Lucas, because otherwise, he wouldn’t bother getting changed.

Ten minutes later, he’s wearing my favorite jeans and a polo shirt, I’ve changed into
his
favorite shoes, and we’re both bundled into his truck and I’m programming the address of the bar Lucas suggested into the GPS. We do most of the drive into Austin in silence until we’re a few minutes out.

“I spoke to Stacia today,” he says. “They’ve had to admit her mom to the hospital for severe stress and anxiety.”

“Wow. Really?”

Drake nods, making the turn to the store with the jersey. “Apparently, she was watching the news and they were reporting on Daniela. They’ve been telling her not to because it upsets her too much, but this time, she had a panic attack and collapsed. She said they’re keeping her tonight for observation and prescribing her some antidepressants and anxiety meds.”

“Poor woman. She’s having such a tough time. Imagine finding out everything she has.”

“I know. Maybe this is for the best, in a nice way.”

“I get it. Now, she’s going to have someone to help her deal with how she’s feeling.”

He pulls into the parking lot. “I think she’s meeting with her old therapist too. Stacia tried to get her to talk to her when we found the body, but she wasn’t interested.”

“Stacia? Wouldn’t her dad have done that?

Drake turns and raises an eyebrow at me. “When I said the same thing to Stacia on the phone, she said, ‘Don’t talk to me about that selfish bastard,’ and hung up.”

“Well, dang.” I unbuckle my belt. “I’ll get it.”

“No. I want the Best Uncle title.”

“What the hell? Thunder stealer!”

He gets out of the truck with a grin and turns back to me. “You have one person to compete with. I have your brothers and Alison’s brothers. That’s four. You get credit for the signature. I get it for the jersey.” He slams the door behind him before I can say anything.

Good. I don’t want to tell him that he has a point. His ego is already questionable.

I wonder what’s happening within the Russo family. It sounds like they’re falling apart. Mrs. Russo has just had a breakdown, Mr. Russo is apparently being hard work for both his daughter and the police, likely because he’s trying to deal with it himself, and the brothers are nonexistent, meaning Stacia is holding the fort down and attempting to hold the family together.

Understandable, of course, but damn.

Poor girl. She’s the one who I think is really suffering here.

Drake comes back with a plastic bag in his hand and throws it into the back seat. “There. Done. Let’s go see Lucas Hargreaves, interrogate him about his dead pen pal, then ask for his autograph.”

“Well. It doesn’t sound so great when you put it like that.”

We get a table just off the bar, right at the back of the place, and I text Lucas to tell him where we’re sitting. He arrives a few minutes later, and I don’t need to follow football to know that it’s him.

He looks like he’s the same height as Drake, except he’s his polar opposite in every other way. Where Drake’s skin is naturally tanned, Lucas’s is light, and his hair is dark blond instead of Drake’s almost black. He’s built virtually the same, and just like when Drake walked in, every woman with a pulse is staring at him.

And to think, I picked this place because I thought it’d be quiet.

He orders a drink and scans the room. His eyes land on us, and he raises a hand with a questioning nod. Drake holds his hand up in acknowledgment, and as soon as Lucas has his beer, he approaches us.

We stand and do the cursory greetings, and man, he’s even more good-looking up close.

What? I can admire the stitching without needing to try it on.

“Don’t worry,” he says to Drake. “My fiancée is driving. She’s shopping. Didn’t think she needed to hear this.”

“Does she know about Daniela?” Drake asks.

Lucas nods slowly. “She was important to me. She found the letters one day and asked me about it. I dunno why, but I couldn’t leave them at home. I think she was my first love even if we never met. Does that sound stupid?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. You seemed close.”

“You read them.” He half smiles.

“Sorry. I didn’t know what was in there.”

“Don’t worry. I knew, one day, someone would find them. Didn’t think anyone would find me though.”

“Yeah... It wasn’t easy.”

“Out of curiosity, how did you find me?”

Ah...

Drake leans forward with a lopsided smirk. “Let’s just say she shouldn’t say it in front of police.”

I smile sweetly, injecting an extra dose of innocence into it.

Lucas laughs. “I appreciate the effort. I don’t know how I can help you though, Noelle. You’ve seen what we talked about. Just teen stuff.”

I look to Drake questioningly. He nods—barely.

“Lucas,” I start. “This information is confidential, but I’m telling you because I need you to think if she may have ever said anything. Okay?”

He nods.

“I found a letter she never sent you. I think it was the last one she ever wrote you—it wasn’t even addressed.” I swallow, and Drake squeezes my knee below the table and rests a comforting hand on my thigh. “She told you how she was being abused by someone. She never got a chance to send it.”

The color drains from his cheeks. “Abused. You mean...”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair. “And she tried to tell me.”

“I think she would have if she’d had another day,” I admit softly. “This is why I need to speak with you. You’re the only person with anything left from her that hasn’t been touched. I need to know if she ever mentioned anything in her letters that might help us find who was doing it to her. I think her abuser killed her.”

“Jesus.” He covers his eyes with his hand, and when he uncovers them, he has tears in the corners of them.

My heart clenches.

“She’s why I came to Texas, you know? I hoped she’d turn up one day and I could find her.” He snorts, and I pass him a packet of tissues from my purse. “Thanks. I had this crazy idea that it wasn’t too late to find her and she’d just run away and hidden.”

“Would she have?”

“I think so. She mentioned it once or twice. Her parents were divorcing and she was having a rough time of it. She joked about coming to Nebraska to see me, and I played along. When she went missing, I kept expecting her to show up. When she didn’t after a week, I started to panic, but I didn’t feel like I could say anything.” His shoulders heave. “I was a sixteen-year-old kid living a couple of states away. But, no, to answer your question. She never said about anyone she wasn’t uncomfortable around, except her—”

“Dadda!”

He’s cut off by the cry of a tiny person running across the bar and launching herself at him. Lucas catches her and hoists her up onto his lap. She’s his mini me, from the soft, brown eyes to the dark-blond hair.

“Hi, baby. I thought Mommy was taking you shopping.”

“Yeah. About that.” A beautiful woman with light-blond hair approaches us. “I’m sorry. She talked the whole way here about getting new shoes, but the moment we walked into the store, she screamed her lungs right out of her body. I’m Isabel.”

I stand and shake her hand. “Noelle. Please don’t worry. I think we’re almost done here.”

Drake introduces himself and sits back down. He leans across the table to the little girl, and she smiles at him, mesmerized.

Jesus Christ. He’s even getting toddlers crushing on him now.

This is becoming a problem.

“Hi, beautiful. What’s your name?”

She lifts her chin proudly. “Daniela.”

My breath catches in my throat.
Oh my holy shit.

Lucas meets my eyes and smiles sadly.

“Well, that’s a beautiful name!” Drake squeezes my knee again. “Come here. I have a secret.”

Little Daniela scrambles off Lucas’s knee and comes to Drake. He bends down and whispers something in her ear, and she gasps, smacking one chubby little hand to her cheek.