No One Left to Tell (58 page)

‘I’ll put Peabody in the bedroom,’ Paige said. ‘But don’t leave him alone, okay?’

‘I’ll be sure the house is covered.’ Stevie stood. ‘Go.’

Thursday, April 7, 2.15
P.M
.

Silas didn’t go far. There were no real places he could hide. It wouldn’t take long for news of his botched attempt at Grayson’s townhouse to hit the TV waves.

He’d tried to kill a cop. He’d find no one on the force willing to help him now. Especially Stevie. He tried to erase the image of her face from his mind, only to have it filled with the worst possible things that could be happening to Violet.

He pulled a ball cap low on his face and found an alley. He ditched the car, which would be reported missing soon. He slunk into the shadows, leaning against a brick wall and closing his eyes.
What am I going to do?
Grayson was on alert now. He and Paige Holden wouldn’t give him another chance to shoot them.

Not that I could get them with my rifle
. He’d left it. He had more at his storage unit, but that was miles away. He had two handguns on him. For now they’d have to do.

A low roar had his head jerking up, his eyes scanning the alley as he pressed against the wall. The roar was abruptly cut and a guy pushed a motorcycle into the alley from the street. The guy set the kickstand and straightened, taking off his helmet.

Silas didn’t think, he just acted, slipping from the shadows and striking the man with the butt of his handgun, hard, in the base of his skull. The man went limp and Silas guided him to the ground, careful to make no noise. He stripped the man’s leather jacket from his body and shrugged into it. Then he put the helmet on, picked up the man’s keys where they’d fallen, started the motorcycle and drove away.

The air helped clear his mind. And he knew where he could go to hide, plan, and do what he needed to do to save his child before it was too late.

Thursday, April 7, 2.45
P.M
.

‘We’re turning a few heads,’ Daphne murmured as they waited for the elevator to Reba’s office. ‘Socialite and Ninja Girl accompanied by brooding bodyguard.’

It was true. Daphne wore her McQueen and Paige wore her
gi
. Clay hovered over them all in black, an earpiece in one ear like the Secret Service. The earpiece was really a digital recorder. Everything said would be captured.

‘Sounds like a TV show,’ Paige murmured back. ‘A really bad one.’

‘I’m not brooding,’ Clay muttered.

Paige tossed him a wry look. ‘Sure you are, Mr Don’t-say-hi-or-bye.’

‘Am not,’ Clay said, but there was a smile in his voice. ‘I’m taciturn.’

Paige snickered but when the elevator doors closed, she frowned at Daphne. ‘She’s going to know you’re a prosecutor working with Grayson.’

‘She would, if I’d told her my correct name. But today I’m Mrs Travis Elkhart, first name Elizabeth. The current Mrs Travis Elkhart is the bimbo using my wedding china, but there were enough photos in the society pages of my ex and me that I’ll pass muster with Reba. Daphne is the lawyer. Elizabeth is the woman I left behind.’

The doors opened and Paige walked up to the receptionist whose eyes had widened at the sight of them. ‘We’re here to see Ms McCloud.’

The receptionist studied Paige’s
gi
with confusion. ‘I’ll tell her that you’re here.’

Daphne sat, crossing her legs, her hands folded primly on her lap. Paige spied Clay staring in a way she was certain he thought discreet. She couldn’t blame him. Daphne had amazing legs. She was a beautiful woman. Paige had a million questions about the man who’d left her, but held them back, instead standing at attention next to Clay.

She tugged briskly on the lower hem of her
gi
jacket, hearing the familiar snap of fabric.
I’ve lived in the quiet of my mind for too long
, she thought. It was time to live in the outside again. Her friends had told her to be patient, that this day would come.

Paige hadn’t expected it to feel so right.

‘Do you like mojitos?’ she asked Daphne.

‘And martinis. And margaritas. As well as cocktails beginning with many other letters of the alphabet.’ Daphne’s brows went up. ‘Why?’

‘I have these two best friends in Minneapolis. We used to go out for major mojito nights, spill our secrets and generally trash the men who’d done us wrong.’

Daphne’s lips twitched. ‘Sounds like a fun girls’ night out.’

‘I’m standing here, you know,’ Clay muttered.

‘If you’ve never caused a major mojito meltdown, none of this pertains to you,’ Paige said, surprised to find him looking almost hurt. ‘Have you?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ he said seriously. ‘But I’ve been on the receiving end a time or two. Guys don’t bitch. They suck it up. And get drunk alone.’

Daphne looked sympathetic. ‘You can join us. I’m not discriminatory.’

‘Mojitos are not my thing,’ he said dryly.

Daphne just smiled. ‘I’m sure I can find something that would appeal to your palate. My mother makes a really tasty G and T. Heavy on the G.’

‘How heavy?’ Clay asked.

‘No T,’ Daphne said demurely. ‘And the G is her own recipe. Sshh.’

The receptionist approached, holding a tray. ‘Can I offer you some water?’

Paige instantly sobered on the inside, although she left her polite smile intact. Images of a dead Betsy Malone filled her mind. ‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’

‘As are we,’ Daphne said. ‘Thank you, though.’

Clay just gave a taciturn nod.

‘If you change your mind, just ask. Ms McCloud is ready for you now.’

Thursday, April 7, 3.35
P.M
.

Anderson was late.
I hope he’s still coming
. Grayson hated to think he’d gotten all wired up for nothing. He sat down at the table set with fine china and crystal in Giuseppe’s private room. The door to the kitchen opened behind him.

‘Anderson just walked in the front door,’ Joseph said quietly. ‘Hyatt’s here. He’s got a man in the ceiling with a scope trained on Anderson. Stevie will wait in the main dining room, in case he decides to leave prematurely. The back entrance is covered.’

‘I have a judge waiting to sign a court order for Anderson’s bank records if you can get him to admit anything,’ Hyatt said, from behind Joseph. ‘We’ll be on the other side of this door.’

The kitchen door closed. A few moments later, the door in front of Grayson opened and Charlie Anderson came through it, his step cocky.

He thinks he has me where he wants me. Think again, asshole
.

Grayson gestured to the empty place at the table. ‘Thanks for coming, Charlie.’

Charlie took his seat. ‘I hear you had some excitement at your place.’

‘Yeah.’ It had been all over the police radio. There was no point in trying to hide it. ‘Silas Dandridge just shot Detective Fitzpatrick – trying to get to me.’

‘I told you to leave this alone, but you always know better. If you’d listened to me . . .’

Anderson’s voice was oily and made Grayson want to strangle him. But he kept his voice humble. Afraid even. ‘I fucked up. I should have listened to you. I got influenced by a woman. I should have walked away from Rex McCloud. Now my life is fucked. Somebody’s tried to kill me twice in the last day. I’m backing off.’

‘Smart. But too late. Even if they leave you alone, which they won’t, I’m following through with my promise. You pushed, I tell it all.’

Grayson suppressed his contempt. He leaned forward, let a little desperation show. ‘I will do whatever I need to do to make whoever I pissed off happy. I mean
anything
. I can do a lot of good from the prosecutor’s table. In many different ways.’

‘Aren’t you listening? Even if you don’t get disbarred, when your family secret comes out, no court will have you. You’ll be a media circus. “Son of serial killer wielding the sword of truth,”’ Anderson said dramatically. ‘Every defense attorney you face will claim conflict of interest and the judge won’t have any choice but to agree. You’re finished.’

That might actually be true. But Grayson couldn’t think about that. He needed to use Anderson’s arrogance to line him up where he wanted him. Then he’d use Stevie’s evidence to knock him down. He blew out a nervous breath. ‘What if you didn’t tell?’

Anderson stared at him. ‘And why wouldn’t I?’

‘I’m not without resources.’

Laughter lit Anderson’s eyes, filled his voice. ‘You’re offering to
pay
me? Grayson, I’m appalled. I would never accept money from you. This meeting is over.’

Grayson waited until Anderson had risen from his chair before he spoke. ‘Why won’t you take money from me? You take it from everyone else.’

Anderson froze. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Bob Bond’s money was good enough when you two fixed cases together.’

‘We did not,’ Anderson declared. But his eyes had changed. He was scared.
Good
.

‘My adopted family is quite well-off. But then you know that, since you know so much about me. Even if I don’t borrow from them, I’ve invested well. I can pay more than Bond did. Much more.’ He drew his checkbook from his pocket. ‘How much, Charlie?’

Anderson lifted his chin. ‘I can’t be bought.’

‘So you did it for free? Somehow I don’t think so. How many wealthy families got their kids off burglary and drug charges with your “help”? How’s that going to look when it starts to come out? Bob Bond’s death is being reopened as a homicide by the police. We’ll get access to all of his bank records. How much will be traced to you?’

Grayson wanted to throw the quarter-million in Anderson’s offshore accounts in his boss’s face, but technically he didn’t know about that. Not all of it anyway. He wasn’t sure where Stevie got her information from, but once she’d told the cops to look at Kapansky’s mother more closely, they’d uncovered the payment from Anderson.

So the most important information, the thirty grand to Kapansky, he could use. It was back-door discovery, but Grayson found he could live with that.

‘Bob Bond committed suicide,’ Anderson said, but his eyes said he knew the truth.

‘No, he didn’t. He died just like Denny Sandoval. Drugged, then hung. Tell me, Charlie, how far are
you
willing to go to keep
your
secrets?’

Anderson was taking deep breaths. ‘So
you’re
blackmailing
me
now? That’s rich.’

Actually, Grayson had been talking about the bomb Anderson had paid for, but he could flow with it. ‘Clever choice of words. I might say we’re even. I won’t expose your dirty secret if you don’t expose mine.’

A muscle in Anderson’s cheek twitched. ‘We might say that.’

‘We might, except for the thirty grand.’

The man’s eyes flickered. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The thirty grand you transferred to Harlan Kapansky’s mother. I see that you know who Kapansky is.’

Anderson went pale. ‘No. You’re lying.’

‘You don’t know who he is?’ Grayson mocked. ‘Then it was stupid to pay his mom.’

‘I didn’t pay him. I don’t know anything about that. You’re lying.’

‘No, I’m not. I have the bank records if you want to see them. Your name is clearly listed as owner of the account the thirty grand was transferred from. Why would I lie?’

‘To make me look bad so no one will believe me when I tell them about you.’

‘I think all your case fixing will make you look bad enough, Charlie. You don’t need my help. And if I was lying about Kapansky, which I’m not, the guy who really paid him will walk free. Maybe he’d even try again. It makes no sense for me to lie.’

Anderson faltered. ‘No. It’s not possible. I did not pay Harlan Kapansky.’

‘Check it for yourself. It’s in your bank.’

Anderson took out his phone, wiping a sweaty palm on his trousers. He slowly typed in a lot of numbers and his face went ashen. ‘Sonofabitch.’

‘Told you,’ Grayson said.

‘This account isn’t mine. I didn’t pay Kapansky. I didn’t pay to have you killed.’

Yeah, right
. But he’d play along. ‘Then who did?’

‘Let me think.’ Anderson shoved his hands in his hair. ‘After Bond died there was someone else at his firm. Someone brokering the deals. Not just with me. I can name names of other attorneys fixing deals. But I did
not
pay for your murder.’

Grayson frowned. Anderson sounded almost credible. ‘Who’s the broker?’

‘I don’t know. I never talked to him.’

‘What about Muñoz? Whose idea was it for me to take lead chair against him?’

Anderson turned for the door.

‘We have so much on you,’ Grayson said softly. ‘It’ll be better if you cooperate. Maybe we can even make a deal.’

Anderson’s shoulders sagged. ‘Mine. It was my idea.’

‘Who paid off Sandoval and Brittany Jones?’

Surprise and hate flickered in Anderson’s eyes. ‘Bond.’

Grayson pictured Bob Bond in his mind. There was no way the man in the photo Elena had obtained was Bond. The man in the photo was too skinny. ‘The picture we have can’t be Bond. You saw the picture, so you know.’

‘That must have been one of Bond’s flunkies. Stupid enough to get caught on camera.’

‘So are you.’

Anderson looked up in the corners, too calmly. ‘They’re hidden well.’

‘That’s kind of the point,’ Grayson said mildly.

The next move happened so fast Grayson couldn’t stop it. Anderson pulled a gun from his coat pocket, put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening, the silence after even more so.

Grayson ran around the table, dropping to one knee beside Anderson. Joseph and Hyatt burst in one door, Stevie in the other, guns drawn. Above their heads a ceiling tile was pushed aside. A guy in tactical gear looked as stunned as everyone else.

Anderson had no pulse. Grayson laid his boss’s arm on the floor then stood, staring at the body that seconds before had had a whole head. ‘Oh my God,’ he whispered.