Cuff Master (36 page)

“Be safe, please, Ethan,” Morgan insisted.

“I will, honey. Don’t worry. Sam’s got my back. I’ve got
hers. We’re a good team.”

“Yes you are.” Morgan drew back and scrambled off his lap.
“Go on. I can handle the insurance stuff.”

“I’ll call when I know more.” Ethan stood, stretched and
gave her one more hug before he left. “Kiss me?”

“You bet,” she said with the slightest smile returning.

She was still hurting. At least he wasn’t the cause anymore.
She went up on her toes, kissed him sweetly and stepped back. He’d have liked
to linger, but time wouldn’t permit it.

A year might not be long enough to completely erase the
sadness he saw in her eyes. Walking away, he glanced back as she knelt to pick
up her phone. Alex came waltzing in as though he owned the place.

Okay, so the guy sort of did own Book Haven Diner. “Take
care of her for me, Alex.”

“Got it covered,” Alex said. “She’s not going anywhere
without me or your pigheaded brother.”

“Pigheaded as he is, he’s a peacemaker.”

“So I saw,” Alex remarked. “Go.”

Ethan left, wishing he didn’t have to. A lot of shit was
about to hit the fan once he and Sam went into the precinct and tore into this
case to find the ammunition they needed for a search warrant.

It was time to find out who set the fires at Druid Creek
Castle and Enchanted Treasures, see how they tied into Jenna Bailey’s
disappearance and murder and close this case once and for all.

Chapter Twelve

Morgan was shaky by the time she finally managed to get
through to her insurance company. Thankfully, Alex stood by her the whole time.

It was a relief to have him as a friend. But she couldn’t
stop thinking about Ethan.

She was glad they’d kissed and made up. Yet something still
felt off. Not with their relationship, but she knew that the shaking wasn’t
just because of a messed-up day or the fire.

Plus, she had the first stirrings of a headache. It’d been
awhile since she’d felt one. But she’d long since realized that headaches
forewarned a vision. The intense migraine part hit her after the vision and
wiped her out for two days.

Hoping that maybe the headache was a result of tension,
Morgan pushed through it by rummaging through Cassie’s desk for a couple of
Tylenol.

“Morgan, what’s going on?” Alex asked, remaining in tune
with her.

“Nothing, Alex, I’m feeling a tension headache or
something.”

“I’ll get you some water to take those pills.” He went off
to the diner in a hurry.

She’d hung up with the adjuster who was supposed to come out
to the site in an hour, take pictures and make a report. In the meantime, she
had to provide a list of what was lost.

How did one summarize the loss of Grandma’s home and
Morgan’s business? She could certainly run off a copy of her inventory.
Cassie’s computer had internet and Morgan had set up an online backup file
program awhile ago. It was simply a matter of going online, entering her
password and hitting print.

Retrieving the inventory list from the printer was easier
said than done. The longer Morgan stood there, the stronger her headache was
getting.

When Alex returned, he had a bottle of water in one hand and
his cellphone in the other. “Yeah, I’m worried, Doc. She’s looking pale. Will
Tylenol help? Okay. See you soon.”

“You called Ryan?” she asked, taking the water gratefully.

“He’s the best doctor I know. Take a seat before you pass
out on me.”

She shook her head. She didn’t think she was at the point of
fainting.

“How about lying down for a little bit?” Alex suggested.
“There’s a big bed in Phalen’s old apartment. Everything’s still made up.”

Morgan thought maybe she’d do that. She took the pills,
washed them down with water and capped the bottle. “Thanks, Alex. Tell Ryan not
to worry. I’ll go nap. Wake me when the insurance guy gets here.”

“Forget about him. I’ll walk you over. The last time a
Maddox woman left my sight, she ended up getting hurt. That happens again, I’m
a dead man walking.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear that. I’m still coming with you.”

Alex made good on his promise. By the time they got to the
diner, the smell of all the food, coupled with a fryer, burgers, meatloaf,
roast turkey and coffee did really bad things to her stomach. The smell of meat
usually didn’t bother her this much.

Taran met them halfway across the diner. “Where y’all
going?” he asked.

“Over to Phalen’s apartment. Morgan’s going to rest until
Ryan gets here and checks her out,” Alex answered.

“You’re sick?” Taran paled. “Shit.”

“I’m not sick. Mild headache, nothing to freak out over,”
Morgan said.

“Is it one of your mojo headaches that put you out of
commission for a couple of days afterward?” Taran demanded, albeit softly.

“Not really sure,” she answered.

“That does it. I’ve got the keys for Phalen’s place.” Taran
took them out of his pocket and handed them over to Alex. “Let’s get her
comfortable, bro.”

“You don’t have to go too,” Morgan told him.

“Yes, I really do. Ethan put me in charge, sis.”

“Same here,” Alex added.

Morgan rolled her eyes, ignoring the sharp pain in her head
as a result. To avoid a hassle no one needed, she welcomed the male attention.
Two gorgeous hunks tucking her in wasn’t a bad thing at all.

Taran and Alex wasted no time in getting her out of the
diner and over to Phalen’s apartment. They climbed up some stairs. Alex opened
the door. Taran helped her through.

Morgan finally made it to the bed, kicked off her boots and
crawled under a cozy down comforter. “This is really nice,” she said quietly,
sighing because it did feel good. “If Ethan calls or texts, let me know. The
insurance guy can wait.”

“Told you to forget about him for now, I’ll handle it,” Alex
said. “Rest and get better.”

“I could always go to my apartment. I need to run over there
and check my plants, start my car. The thing hasn’t moved in two weeks.”

“When you’re feeling better, we’ll walk over there
together,” Taran promised. “If you need to sleep longer, I’ll go myself.”

“Not sure if I have my keys. Remy has my spares.”

“Don’t worry. Sleep, woman. That’s an order,” Taran stated
with a quiet authority that brooked no argument.

Morgan closed her eyes. This bed was enormous. The cover was
decadent and the right prescription for a morning from hell.

* * * * *

Sam and Ethan walked into the squad room, sat down at their
desks and went to work. While Sam began an extensive background search on the
Andrews family and orchard, Ethan combed through files on Spencer Bailey and
Erica White.

The Bailey family had ties to Boston and New York City.
Spencer’s father, a graduate of Harvard, purchased commercial property in
Boston’s Seaport district. That purchase laid the foundation for Spencer’s
eventual partnership with Bartholomew Stratham.

Nothing in Ethan’s findings indicated that Bartholomew
Stratham was anything other than a born-and-bred Bostonian billionaire whose
great-great-grandparents originally came to Massachusetts before the American
Revolution. Stratham was a widower with one child, Evelyn, who was raised to
take over the business.

Ethan didn’t delve further into Eve’s history. Spencer
Bailey and his connection to Erica White were his primary concern. The further
he delved into files and worked background checks with a skill that rivaled his
partner’s, the more he discovered long-buried secrets.

Along with his brothers, Spencer attended Harvard Business
School. His cousins preferred Harvard Law School. One of Spencer’s cousins,
Dylan Bailey, tried to run for political office in Massachusetts, failed and
later opened a law firm concentrating on civil court cases. A brother became a
Wall Street executive.

The Baileys were well known in Manhattan because Spencer’s
grandfather’s father had been a Robber Baron. With the money made from
industry, he bought a skyscraper and turned it into a multimillion-dollar
landmark, doing the same with several other buildings.

What Ethan and Samantha hadn’t known previously was that
Erica’s father, George Barnes, worked as a security guard in one of the
Bailey-owned NYC high-rises and a bank on the ground floor was robbed. George
was accused of aiding the thieves because he’d been on duty.

Despite claims that he’d been patrolling another floor at
the time of the robbery, George was fired, arrested, put on trial and found
guilty of aiding and abetting. Erica’s parents ended up divorced, broke and
shattered, with her father becoming homeless after getting out of jail and
freezing to death in a back alley.

Erica’s mother abandoned her as soon as her father went to
jail and the girl was forced to raise herself, living her teen years in and out
of foster homes and finally marrying Maurice White when she was seventeen.

Back then, Maurice was running a psychic medium scam, got
caught and pled guilty. They’d divorced when she was nineteen. Ethan grimaced.
Along with giving Jenna Bailey peace of mind on the other side, he sure hoped
he and Sam would be able to do that for Erica White.

Ethan continued to delve. Background checks wouldn’t confirm
what he suspected, but it wouldn’t hurt to make some calls to the NYC
detectives who’d worked on Erica White’s missing person’s case.

After two hours of conversations with NYPD brass and a
federal judge, Ethan learned that the primary accuser against George had been
Spencer Bailey, who’d been an intern at the time and professed to be working
late in his office that evening. George tried to prove his innocence by
claiming he’d seen Spencer with a young girl.

Naturally, Spencer insisted that the woman had been his
college girlfriend, who’d come to visit him, and he’d wanted to show off his
office digs. Maura Andrews later verified his story on record.

Maura Andrews?

“Fucking hell, Maura Andrews, Alisa’s sister who runs the
orchard, was involved with Spencer Bailey. Bet that made for some interesting
family dinners over the holidays,” Ethan said to Sam, who had to stop typing
furiously on her keyboard and look up.

“What’s that, Ethan?”

“Maura Andrews was involved with Spencer Bailey. I read the
transcriptions from George Barnes’ trial. Maura is Alisa’s sister.”

Sam did one of her tricks with the computer, made a couple
notations on a pad of paper and shouted, “Eureka!” when she hit something
important.

“According to what I found out about the Andrews family,
Maura was a straight A student through school and college. She’d been accepted
into Harvard Business School, where she must have met Spencer. They graduated
the same year.”

“Nothing about Spencer and Maura being involved?”

“Not a peep. Get this, Patrick and Melissa Andrews, Maura
and Alisa’s parents, have been paying private practice psychiatrists and family
therapists since the girls were teenagers. There’s also a juvenile file on
Maura that we can’t have access to without a judge’s permission.”

“How much you want to bet there’s a history of fire setting
in her background?”

“Think there’s a good chance,” his partner said. “We’ll have
to present this to the captain and see if we can get a judge to open that file
for us.”

“If Maura was a graduate of Harvard, why the hell’s she
hiding out at an apple farm? Where are the parents?”

Sam tapped some keys and read her computer screen, shaking
her head. “They spend winters in Miami, summers they occasionally return to
Massachusetts. Holidays are spent abroad, touring Europe and fancy cruises
through the Mediterranean.”

“That’s fucked up, Sam. Thought they were nearly destitute
until…Spencer Bailey married Alisa, saving them and supporting them at the same
time,” Ethan speculated.

“Sure enough, that could have left both daughters with
emotional or abandonment issues. Maura might well be a scholar. That doesn’t
mean she has social skills. The question should be why did Spencer marry Alisa?
Why not marry Maura?”

“I don’t know. I suspect that their love affair is far from
over and Alisa is merely a pawn. Always did like Alisa, she seemed genuine, a
bit naïve perhaps, but she was devastated when Jenna went missing. Now she
seems so broken.”

“I’d like to see if we can talk to Alisa one on one.
Hopefully she’ll open up and tell us what she knows about her husband.”

“I’ll call her and see if she’d mind coming down to the
station and talking to us about her sister.”

“Let me give her a call, Ethan. I suspect Alisa is a bit of
a yes-sir, no-sir kind of person. If she thinks she’s protecting her husband
and sister, she may be intimidated by an Alpha male.”

Ethan smiled. “I know how to tone down the Alpha speech. And
I’m way more than a top dog, partner. Alpha doesn’t mean Dom, you know?”

“So I’ve figured out a long time ago. Don’t worry, your
secret’s safe with me,” Sam teased. “Anyway, I’ll call her and head over to the
computer lab to do some facial recognition work on that video feed from NYPD.
It’s the only thing I have that may put Maura Andrews at the scene of where
Erica White was last seen alive.”

“I’m going to see if I can find anything more on this trial
and Jenna Bailey’s adoption records.”

Sam promised she’d bring fresh coffee when she came back,
picked up her laptop and headed off to the computer lab that had the kind of
technology that made a former hacker salivate to get their hands on it. Ethan
went back to work, trying to piece together what they knew with what they were
learning.

Nothing in his investigation gave any indication that Alisa
had done anything wrong when she married Spencer. She’d needed the financial
stability marriage offered and took it. She stood by her husband, was his alibi
on the night Jenna supposedly ran away to be with a boy she’d met on an online
role players game.

At the time, the Baileys couldn’t turn over the girl’s
computer because it’d gone missing with Jenna. It had been as if a
fifteen-year-old girl had never had email, Facebook, MySpace or even the
outdated AOL correspondence except that game. Her phone records were clean as a
whistle.

Terrence Mills had developed a fake teenaged persona and
preyed on teenaged girls on the verge of either running away or on the fringe
of society. Some had been bullied, some were runaways who had been victims of
sexual abuse and some had simply been ignored.

Jenna certainly hadn’t been ignored. But she’d rebelled over
her mother and father’s divorce by going Goth. She’d been so young and Ethan
wished to God he’d known her before she became one of his cases. He’d have
liked to be a positive male role model for her.

While Sam was doing her thing with the video, Ethan put
aside the files on the Andrews and Baileys and concentrated on Jenna’s reopened
case file and Terrence Mills’ arrest, arraignment and investigation records.
Everything on Mills was neat and tidy. If it weren’t for Sam, the
inconsistencies of Jenna’s autopsy record could easily be overlooked.

A .22 was standard-issue for point-blank execution-style
shootings and Mills had a .22 Ruger in his car when he was arrested a mile away
from the warehouse when it went up in flames. Ballistics confirmed the 9mm
Glock semi-auto left at the crime scene was used on seven of the girls.