Devil She Became (Devil's Angels Book 1) (25 page)

“Oh, my God, Reese, that was so amazing. You are phenomenal.” He kissed her long and deep. Reese, shaking with exhaustion from so many orgasms, merely kissed him back, tasting her own arousal on his lips.

“Everything okay back there?” the pilot asked over the intercom.

They both laughed. Harrison stood up to hit the intercom.

“Yes.” He grinned at Reese. Reaching down to help her up into her seat, Harrison kissed her.

“You’re amazing, baby, simply amazing.” He gave Reese a wickedly sexy smile. Reese looked up at him with her big blue eyes shining.

“Thank you, darling. I can’t wait to get home.” Reese pulled her dress back on and settled into the luxurious seat for the rest of the flight home. Everything was working out exactly the way she had planned.

Lisa Batten Grantham had only been in her grave for ten months when Harrison announced his engagement to Reese. In a matter of weeks, the engagement announcement was all over social media. The society columns in Chicago ran stories about the wounded man finding love again.

Harrison Neil Grantham, of North Shore, and Reese Amanda Vogel, of North Shore, have announced their engagement. The couple met through mutual friends six months ago. The groom-to-be is from New York, New York and is the son of billionaire real estate tycoon, Harlan Grantham. He graduated from Harvard Law with his JD. He is a medical malpractice attorney and partner at Grantham, Grantham, and Collier. The bride-to-be was born in Savannah, Georgia, and grew up in California. She is a former model and Miss California Sun. Ms. Vogel has a degree in marketing from Northwestern and an MBA in marketing, also from Northwestern. The wedding is set for May 21st at St. John’s Cathedral with reception to follow at the Lake Shore Grand Reception Hall. The couple plans to honeymoon in the Maldives. They will make their home in the North Shore area with the groom-to-be’s two daughters.

Throwing down his phone in disgust, McCallister stared at his desk. That son of a bitch. Here his wife burns to death leaving him alone and his daughters without a mother, and less than a year later, he’s getting married to this ex-model? Hmmm… his radar was definitely picking something up here, and it was something very negative. Fuck Hoffman, maybe it was time to call Grantham in to speak with him personally. Put him on the grill and see if he got hot. He would have to be careful with Grantham being an attorney. He was quite intelligent and arrogant. Maybe he could use Grantham’s arrogance to his advantage.

********

Over on the Gold Coast, Harrison and Reese were moving into their new home. Harrison felt his phone vibrate with a text, and he looked down at it.

Mr. Grantham, may I please speak with you at your earliest convenience? Detective Colton McCallister.

Harrison groaned. What the fuck was his problem? Lisa’s death investigation had already been closed and ruled an accident.

I am moving into my new home right now. I have a few moments tomorrow around lunchtime. Shall we say 12:30 at Blue Moon? Harrison.

A moment later, he received a confirmation text back.

Reese was unloading boxes in the kitchen. “Oh, honey, let the movers do that.” Harrison gently chastised her.

Reese blushed a bit. “I guess I am not used to having everyone do things for me.”

Harrison took the glasses from her hands. “Then get used to it, princess. Your job is to be happy and be my wife.” He kissed her long and hard.

Two men wearing jeans and white t-shirts stopped to watch the pair become passionate. “Excuse me, Mr. Grantham, where do these go?” one of the men asked, holding up a medium-sized box.

“Oh, those go into the master suite. Upstairs on your left.” He directed. Reese giggled as the movers couldn’t stop ogling her.

“God, men are such assholes.” Harrison laughed at the way they looked at Reese.

Reese laughed as she ran into the large entryway of their new home. Rich hardwood floors complimented the huge sprawling staircase that curved to both wings of the house. At 10,000 square feet, it was one of the largest homes on the Gold Coast. The ultimate indulgence, however, was in the master suite. It included a massive master bedroom with a private roof terrace, a lavish dressing room with custom closets, and an Italian marble sunken tub. Harrison had ordered a private office built for him complimented with a paneled library. Highlights of the finished lower level included an exercise room with a guest suite and two wine cellars. The ground level also featured an enormous indoor pool. The girls’ rooms were almost as large as the master suite. Two separate bedrooms joined by a huge bathroom with two enormous walk-in closets. They walked around their home marveling at how well the decorators had coordinated all the furniture with Reese’s requests. As Reese continued to watch the movers unload, Harrison paused to ponder his impending appointment tomorrow with the detective. He sighed. He had hoped that this would all go away. Lisa was gone. Nothing could bring her back. Why couldn’t they let that go? Harrison had certainly never laid a harmful hand on her. For all Harrison knew, neither had Ava. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think of that now.

A high, piercing squeal of joy came from the master suite. Harrison chuckled. She must have found her surprise! He raced up the immense staircase to see Reese with her mouth covered, jumping up and down. A gigantic portrait was hanging on the wall above the mantle. It was a portrait of Reese that he’d had commissioned for their new home. He had taken a photo of her sprawled out on a velvet chaise when they’d been on vacation in the Greek Islands. The artist had captured her erotic essence perfectly… the deep-blue of her eyes, even the different shades of blonde in her lustrous hair. He had even managed to duplicate the curves of her breasts, waistline, and hips perfectly. Her skin tone was also perfect. It was truly the most beautiful painting he had ever seen.

“How? When?” she asked.

He smiled broadly. “Remember when I was taking pictures of you in Santorini? I gave a few of the photos to a local artist and commissioned a painting done for our new home.”

“But I’m nearly nude, Harrison! Our families will see!”

Harrison shook his head. “No, you’re not. Your nipples are quite covered, and the silk sarong covers you below.”

Reese was still smiling. “I love it! I can’t believe it!”

“This is absolutely beautiful. I adore it. But nothing compares to the real thing,” Harrison murmured as he kissed her.

“The movers are here, baby. Do you want to give them another show?”

Harrison grinned. “I don’t mind.” Looking down at his phone, he saw he had several texts from Mike regarding clients.

“But I have to make some calls. You take care of the movers, ok? Don’t let any of them take a picture of that,” he said, gesturing to her portrait.

Reese laughed. “As if they would.”

“Why wouldn’t they want a picture of one of the world’s most beautiful women?” He kept smiling at her with a glint in his eyes as he walked out.

Walking over the plush carpet in her bare feet, Reese went up to the large bay window and looked out onto the beautifully landscaped terrace below. She smiled to herself and thought how lucky she was. She had the man of her dreams, an unbelievably gorgeous home… her perfect life was starting. She had a dream wedding to plan; a wedding that was sure to be one of the social events of the year. Reese was so filled with joy she began humming to herself. How had she managed to get everything she wanted? She smiled. All she had needed was just one little spider.

The next day at 12:30 p.m., Harrison found himself sitting quietly in the back booth of a local pub. The detective was late.
Not unusual for these low-level types
, he thought.
Time isn’t important to them.
He sipped his scotch as he waited impatiently. Finally, at 12:45 p.m., the front door swung open and a tall, well-built man in a dark suit walked in. He strode directly over to Harrison’s booth.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Grantham. I apologize. What are you drinking?”

“Call me Harrison. Scotch. Neat.”

  The detective walked up to the bar where an attractive young blonde gave him two glasses.

“Here you go.” Harrison took the glass from him.

Before the detective sat down, he removed his suit jacket, revealing that he wore a blue dress shirt and tie underneath. He was a very attractive man.
Quite young to be a homicide detective,
Harrison thought.

The detective pulled out a large manila folder stuffed with papers and retrieved a leather-bound notebook from his worn briefcase.

“Detective McCallister…” Harrison began

“Call me Colt,” he answered without looking up.

“Colt, what is all this about? I am a very busy man. I don’t have a lot of time to waste.” Harrison was visibly annoyed as he sipped his scotch, which was terrible. He had chosen this pub since it was very unfashionable, and it was highly unlikely someone important would see them. Unfortunately, that also meant a distinct lack of premium scotch was available.

Finally, Colt looked up at him, making direct eye contact. Grantham was quite arrogant and more handsome in person than in photographs. He was also a great deal more intimidating than Colt had first envisioned. Nevertheless, Colt had worked some of the city’s most difficult homicide cases. He wasn’t about to let this Harvard brat intimidate him.

Harrison was also sizing Colt up. From the roughness of his hands and grease under his short nails, he knew that Colt either enjoyed working on old cars or earned extra money as a mechanic. His muscular build indicated that he spent a good deal of time in the gym. Harrison wouldn’t be surprised if he was ex-military as well. As he’d noted earlier, Colt looked very young to be a homicide detective; no older than thirty-five or so. He had no white or gray in his dark-brown hair. His face was unlined and his eyes were bright. Colt’s face held none of the hardness of a typical detective. This guy looked like a junior detective. Harrison scoffed that the department would put anything less than the best on his wife’s case.

“I understand that, Harrison, and I thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

Looking down at his file, he pulled out a few photos. “Do these look familiar to you?”

Harrison reached out and examined the photos. He swallowed hard. They were pictures of he and Reese at various restaurants, of he and Reese getting on the plane headed to Greece, of the two of them at the resort in Santorini, of the two of them moving into their new home. As they had just started moving in yesterday, this was very recent. He or one of his cronies had been following them!

Harrison calmly passed them back across the table. “Of course. What’s wrong with them?”

Colt shrugged. “Nothing. Unless your wife was recently found dead.”

Harrison pursed his lips and grimaced. He finished the rest of his subpar scotch.

“Colt, my wife died nearly a year ago.”

“Precisely. Isn’t this a bit soon to be moving on?” Colt lit a cigarette.

As Colt blew smoke in Harrison’s face, he waved his hand. “I don’t think you are supposed to smoke in here.” Harrison gestured to a no smoking sign.

Colt looked back. “I guess you’re right. Fucking bureaucracy.” He threw his cigarette in his glass.

“About a month ago, I talked to your fiancé. At that time, she advised me that the two of you were merely old college friends, despite the fact that she never went to Harvard and the two of you are obviously more than friends. Especially seeing how you are getting married next year.”

“So? She’s never been questioned by police and was nervous. She was only trying to protect my reputation.”

“By doing what? Lying?”

“By making sure my family didn’t know I was seeing another woman so soon after my wife’s death. Ms. Vogel was trying to be sensitive to the fact that my and my wife’s families were still quite traumatized by her death.”

Colt cocked his eyebrow at him. “And you’re not?”

“Not what?”

“Traumatized by your wife’s untimely death.”

Harrison nodded. “Of course, I am. But I have to move on and make a life for myself and my children.”

Colt looked directly at him. He could definitely see cracks in Harrison’s cool façade. He had to get those to open up a bit more.

“But your wife had only been dead for a few months…”

Harrison hardened his voice and the corners of his mouth turned down. “I saw her, Colt, laying on a slab in the morgue, so don’t talk to me about my wife’s death. Did you see the pictures? Nothing, nothing compared to what I saw. I saw her skin charred black, her face burned beyond recognition… her engagement ring melted into her finger… the awful smell of charred human flesh…” Harrison choked up and bile rose in his throat as he recalled the horrific scene.

“I apologize, Harrison. I have seen the photos, of course, but being there must have been very traumatic.”

Harrison nodded as he wiped his face with his hands. “Excuse me, Colt, if I ‘moved on’ too quickly for you. I fought night after night to never see that sight again. If Ms. Vogel helped me to regain a bit of normalcy in my life, forgive me.” Harrison bitterly spat his words.

Damn, this guy is good,
Colt thought. He would be very tough to break.

“I’m sorry for my insensitivity. Did you have reason to believe your wife was unhappy?”

“I already answered these questions. Go back and read the notes. No, I didn’t think she was unhappy. She took some antidepressants, that’s all.”

Colt cleared his throat and nodded. “Toxicology report only showed trace amounts of that and a tranquilizer, Lorpril, in her stomach. Those small amounts didn’t kill her.”

Harrison rolled his eyes. “I already know this.”

Lowering his voice, Colt leaned in to Harrison. “But did you know that the coroner found slash marks on her wrists?”

Harrison paled. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Colt nodded. “The slash marks were so deep they left indentations in the wrist bones.”

Harrison swallowed hard. “What the hell does that mean? She attempted suicide?”

Colt pursed his lips. “Perhaps. I mean, there was no sign of forced entry from what we could tell.”

“Are you saying my wife cut her wrists and then somehow a fire started?”

Colt shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. But according to the coroner’s reports, she died of smoke inhalation and third degree burns.”

Harrison leaned forward. “So what are you insinuating?”

“I think that Mrs. Grantham was assaulted prior to the fire.”

Harrison laughed in derision. “Really? That’s jumping to conclusions.”

Colt shook his head. “How else do you explain the cut marks on her wrists?”

“She may have attempted suicide, I guess. No one else was there.”

“How do you know, Harrison? You weren’t there.”

“I know. I was fishing with my brother.”

“Yes, but where was Ms. Vogel?”

“Don’t you know?” Harrison was beginning to enjoy this useless banter with the detective.”

“Ms. Vogel refused to speak to me.”

“As is her right. Also, I didn’t even know Reese at that time.”

Colt nodded, smiling. “Yes, that’s right. How was it you two met exactly?”

Harrison clenched his fists. “We met at the Berkshire Room. We were set up by mutual friends of ours.”

Colt asked, “Which friends?”

Harrison answered irritably. “Brian and Beth Reynolds.”

Colt made a note of their names. “I see. Well, Harrison, I don’t really have any more questions unless you have something.”

“Yes. Why the hell are you following us?”

Colt grinned at him. “I am a homicide detective. That’s what I do. When someone dies under suspicious circumstances, I ask questions. Particularly when that victim was married to an extremely wealthy, handsome and arrogant man like you.” Colt began putting his folders back into his briefcase.

Harrison was fuming but maintained his calm exterior. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you, Colten. I wish you the best of luck with your career.” He extended his hand.

Colt took Harrison’s hand.

“Enjoy your new home, Mr. Grantham, and please give my best to Ms. Vogel.”

As Harrison sauntered out of the pub, Colt stayed back to enjoy another drink. There just had to be some connection somewhere. His gut told him that Mrs. Grantham’s death wasn’t a suicide or an accident. Looking through his notes, he searched for Brian and Beth Reynolds and made a note of their contact information. Colt had a strong suspicion that Vogel and Grantham had been together long before Lisa’s death. He just had to prove that first, then he could work on uncovering any possible way that her death wasn’t accidental. Picking up his phone, he had a call to make.

“Mr. Batten? Yes, I just spoke to him.”