Blood Lies (29 page)

Kyle was still alive when I reached him. He was barely breathing, and small bubbles of blood formed at his lips. His glassy eyes opened a crack and found mine.

His lips curled into a partial smile. He coughed. A fine mist of blood sprayed from his mouth. “You’ve got nothing left but ghosts, Ben,” he whispered.

His eyelids drooped further and the bubbles stopped forming.

Instinctively, I shot a hand to his neck. My fingers stuck to the tacky blood as they roamed his cool and clammy skin in search of a carotid pulse. I found none. “Rot in hell, Kyle,” I muttered.

From the other side of the chair, Rick frowned. “Dead?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, he tucked his gun into the holster and then reached for his cell phone.

As I headed for the kitchen, I heard Rick say, “I’m at Ben’s. We’ve got Kyle.” He paused. “No. That won’t be necessary.”

I was scrubbing my hands at the sink when Rick walked into kitchen. “Drink?” I asked.

“Water, please.”

I poured Rick a glass of water and then grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“I’d begun to suspect you were personally involved in all this,” I said, too drained to be diplomatic.

“I am.”

I took a long sip of beer. “How?”

“Before I left Narcotics, I spent the better part of a year working undercover to bring down your brother and Kyle’s operation.” He smiled. “I kind of liked Aaron, actually. Always had the feeling he was a victim of his habit. Not your cousin, though. Kyle was rotten through and through.”

“What happened?”

“I nailed them red-handed with a ton of B.C. bud and almost as much coke and crystal meth. The takedown was textbook.”

“But?”

His expression hardened. “Someone got to the evidence locker. Half the coke went missing. Your buddy, Michael Prince, had a field day! The charges were tossed. Not only that, but fifty thousand dollars showed up in an account with my name on it. Suddenly, I came under suspicion. The dirty cop who got away with it.”

“Kyle!”

“No doubt,” he muttered.

“That’s why you ended up in Homicide?”

“Helen gave me a chance for a new start.” His eyes narrowed. “But I never bought your cousin’s born-again act. I knew I would get another shot at him.” He drained the last of his water and held the glass out for a refill. “You mind?”

Hearing the faint hum of sirens in the background, I topped up his glass. “You seemed pretty convinced I was your killer.”

“Yes and no. I always suspected Kyle, but you acted so damn guilty as the evidence mounted.” He toasted me with his glass. “And just kept mounting. Almost too much, you know? Like that anonymous tip about your fight with Emily and J.D. And the sudden discovery of your brother’s buried corpse. The whole thing began to feel orchestrated.”

“And you thought of Kyle?”

Rick nodded. “I never stopped thinking of him, but I had nothing to pin it on him. After you were cleared of the charges in Vancouver, I knew in my bones that he was going to do something. I’ve been on his tail ever since. Waiting.” He gestured to the living room. “I followed him here. And then when you pulled up, I came in after you.”

“You were here all along?” I slammed my beer down on the table. “He could have put a bullet in my brain at any moment.”

“Nah. He was itching to let you know exactly how he’d screwed you over.” Rick broke into one of his fashion-model smiles. “Besides, I wasn’t about to interrupt a confession like that.”

“A confession like what?” Helen boomed as she trooped into the kitchen.

“Kyle’s.” Rick turned to his partner. “You’ll never believe how he pulled it off.”

“Try me.”

While the EMS and CSI teams swarmed my living room, Rick outlined Kyle’s M.O. and motive. I didn’t say a word.

Helen eyed me. “The lab couldn’t tell Aaron’s blood apart from Kyle’s, huh?”

I shook my head. “Kyle’s saliva, sweat, and so on wouldn’t resemble Aaron’s, but after the bone marrow transplant his blood was produced by the same stem cells that made Aaron’s. From a DNA point of view, their blood was a perfect match. And of course, Aaron and I had genetically identical bone marrows. So Kyle’s blood matched mine, too.”

“Except for the HIV,” Helen pointed out.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Aaron must have been infected with HIV within days to weeks of giving the marrow donation. When it was too early to show up on his screening blood tests.”

Helen shook her head. “I dunno. Maybe it will sink in later, but right now…I just don’t miss Kyle that much.” Beaming, she turned to Rick. “That tricky bastard. Our hunch wasn’t that far off, huh?”

I gaped at Helen. “You thought it was him the whole time, too!”

Helen put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s say I never thought you masterminded these murders.”

“No,” I grunted. “You just thought I was Kyle’s henchman?”

“I was never convinced you were involved.” Helen freed my shoulder. “But Lord knows your cousin went to enough effort to make it look like you were. And we needed to find you to figure it out.”

I shook my head.

“Besides, you do good work when you’re on the lam.” She broke into a hearty laugh. “We ought to make you our prime suspect in some of our other cold cases. Maybe while on the run you can dig up the real killers for us.”

I laughed in spite of myself, but I didn’t share Rick and Helen’s celebratory spirit. I put my bottle down on the counter. “I need a little time to myself.” I headed for the hallway, sorely tempted to march straight to my garage and hop on my mountain bike despite my broken ribs.

Helen’s voice stopped me. “Ben, are you going to be okay?”

I turned back and mustered a smile. “In a while.”

With the bedroom door locked, I sat on my bed and stared at the wall. The commotion from the CSI guys in the living room faded to a dull white noise that barely registered in my consciousness. Remembering the past weeks, I felt the cumulative weight of my life’s losses bearing down on me.

Maybe all I do have left are ghosts
. And Kyle was now one of them.

A knock from the door disrupted the thoughts. “Not now, Helen,” I called out.

“It’s me,” Alex said.

Chest thudding, I rose from the bed and opened the door.

She stared at me with eyes that looked puffy from lack of sleep. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I smiled tentatively. “How did you hear?”

She swept back her hair. “Helen called. Said you could use a friend.”

I swallowed. “I think so.”

Alex stepped into the room, stopping inches from me. She reached out and grazed her warm fingers over my cheek. My chest thumped harder. Alex looked away sheepishly. “I heard what Marcus did to you, too.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I spoke to my attorney this morning,” she said softly. “That stunt he pulled might not keep him in jail forever, but she thinks it will earn me sole custody of Talie.”

The sudden glow warmed me. “Sole custody?”

She broke into a shy smile. “Don’t suppose you are into women with emotional baggage?”

I laughed. “I’ve been known to carry a bit of my own from time to time.”

She leaned forward and pressed her mouth into mine. Relief flooded over me as I met her lips, kissing her back hard and tasting the mint of her toothpaste.

Alex broke off the kiss long enough to ask, “Your ribs okay?”

“Perfect.” Despite the ache in my chest, I couldn’t hold her tightly enough against me. I wanted to lose myself in her.

Her lips skittered over my cheek. Her warm breath tickled my ear. “Ben,” she whispered. “It’s finally over.”

“No, Alex.” I laughed. “It’s finally beginning.”

As always, I am deeply indebted to the many friends and family members who encourage, support, and generally put up with my compulsion to write. I can’t list everyone, but I have to mention a select few who have gone above and beyond the call, including Duncan Miller, Scott Lamont, Dave Allard, Brooke Wade, Jeff Petter, Nancy Stairs, Janine Mutch, Lisa and Rob King, Dee Dee and Kirk Hollohan, Beth Allard, Dal Schindell, Geoff Lyster, Theresa and Alec Walton, and Alisa Weyman.

I want to heap tons of credit on the wonderful Kit Schindell, a peerless freelance editor who reviews each manuscript chapter by chapter and draft by draft and guarantees that I get the most out of the story. Thanks, Kit.

I want to thank my agent, Henry Morrison, for his wisdom, advice, and long-term perspective. I am so grateful and proud to have found a home at Tor-Forge. Tom Doherty and Linda Quinton are publishers who bring a warm personal element to the business. Thanks, as well, to Patty Garcia, John Morrone, Elena Stokes, and Paul Stevens.

And, of course, I cannot praise enough my awesome editor and friend, Natalia Aponte, for her inspiration and collaboration. You’re the tops, Natalia!

I would be nowhere without the support of my family. I want to acknowledge Mom and Dad, my brothers and their wives, my nieces, and my in-laws for their love and encouragement. And my wife, Cheryl, and my daughters, Ashley and Chelsea, constantly remind me of how complete my life is.

Finally, I want to thank you, the readers, who have taken a chance on my books and helped me to realize a dream.