Karen Rose - Die for Me

She wanted to scream for them to mind their own damn business, but controlled the impulse. She looked for Jen, but it was Vito Ciccotelli’s dark eyes she met once again. He’d never looked away. “I’ve run out of stakes. Do you have any markers?”

“I’ll find something.” He gave her another long look of speculation before turning for the CSU van. When he was no longer watching her, she felt the air leave her lungs in a long sigh and realized she’d been holding her breath for a long time. As the sigh left her body, so did her temper. Now all she felt was weary regret and shame.

“I’m sorry, Katherine. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” She stopped just short of saying she’d been wrong. She’d never lied to Katherine and wasn’t about to start now.

The corners of Katherine’s mouth lifted in wry acceptance of what Sophie had left unsaid. “I know. Seeing the victim would have been bad enough, but you had a shock on top of that. I never meant for you to see any bodies. I thought you’d do the scan, then go home. I guess I didn’t think that through very well.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you asked me to help.” Sophie squeezed Katherine’s arm and knew the air was clear between them again. It’s a good thing Katherine’s more forgiving than me, she thought ruefully. Then again, it was easier to forgive when one felt the loss less keenly. Elle had not been Katherine’s child. She was mine. Sophie cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice was brusque. “Now let me get to work so all the cops will stop looking at us.”

Katherine looked over her shoulder, as if realizing for the first time they had an audience. With a single lifted brow, the little woman sent everyone back to their business. “Cops are the nosiest,” she whispered. “Worse gossips than girls.”

“Now, that’s just mean.”

Sophie’s eyes flew up to see Vito standing behind them, clutching a handful of colored flags as if they were flowers.

Katherine smiled up at him. “No, that’s just true, and you know it.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Replace ‘nosy’ with ‘observant’ and we’re square.” His words were directed to Katherine, but he looked at Sophie, his eyes just as intent as before. He held out the flags. “Your markers,” he said. She hesitated before scooping them from his hand, the thought of touching him making her nervous. Ridiculous. She was a professional and she would do the job she’d been brought here to do.

She took the flags and shoved them in her pocket. “I hope I don’t need this many.”

Vito’s slight smile disappeared as his gaze swept the field. “That makes two of us.”

Katherine sighed. “Amen.”

Dutton, Georgia, Sunday, January 14, 9:40

P.M.

Daniel Vartanian sat on his hotel bed, rubbing his brow behind which the beginnings of a migraine lurked. “That’s the situation,” he finished and waited for his boss to speak.

Chase Wharton sighed. “You have one fucked-up family. You know that, don’t you?”

“Believe me, I know. Well, can I have the leave?”

“Are you sure they’re really traveling? Why all the lies?”

“My parents keep up appearances, no matter what.” His parents had covered up many family secrets to preserve the family’s “good name.” If people only knew. “That they didn’t want anyone to know about my mother’s illness is par for the course.”

“But it’s cancer, Daniel, not some awful secret like pedophilia or something.”

Or something, Daniel thought. “Cancer would be enough to start tongues wagging. My father wouldn’t tolerate that, especially since he’d just agreed to run for Congress.”

“You never said your father was a politician.”

“My father was a politician from the day he was born,” Daniel said bitterly. “He just did it from the bench. But I didn’t know he was running. Apparently he’d just agreed to run before he went away.” This he’d heard from Tawny Howard who’d taken his and Frank’s dinner order. Tawny had heard it from the secretary of Carl Sargent, the man his father had visited the last time he’d been in town. “I’m sure he views my mother’s cancer as fodder for the opposition. My mother will go along with whatever he says.”

Chase was silent and Daniel could imagine his worried expression.

“Chase, I just want to find my folks. My mother’s sick. I…” Daniel blew out a breath. “I need to see her. I have something to tell her and I don’t want her to die before I can. We had an argument and I said some harsh things.” He’d actually said them to his father, but the feelings of anger and disgust… and shame… they’d extended to include his mother as well.

“Were you wrong?” Chase asked quietly.

“No. But… I shouldn’t have let so many years pass with this between us.”

“Take your leave then. But the minute you suspect anything other than an ordinary vacation, you back off and we’ll set up a proper investigation. I don’t want my ass fried because a retired judge is missing and I didn’t follow procedure.” Chase hesitated. “Be careful, Daniel. And I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Thanks.” Daniel wasn’t sure where to begin, but was certain clues resided in his father’s computer. Tomorrow a pal from the GBI was coming to help him sort through his father’s computer records. Daniel only hoped he could deal with what he found.

New York City, Sunday, January 14, 10:00

P.M.

From his chair in the darkness of their hotel suite’s sitting room, Derek watched Jager stumble through the door. “You’re drunk,” Derek said with disgust.

Jager jerked upright. “Goddamn it, Derek. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Then we’re even,” Derek said bitterly. “Just what the hell was that all about?”

“What?” The word was uttered with contempt and Derek felt his temper boil higher.

“You know what. Who the hell gave you the right to make Lewis the art director?”

“It’s just a title, Derek.” Jager shot him a scathing look as he yanked his tie from his collar. “If you’d been in the bar celebrating with us instead of up here in the dark, sulking like a little boy, you would have heard the news firsthand. We got a booth at Pinnacle.”

“ Pinnacle? ” Pinnacle, the game convention of the year. On the planet. This was huge. Pinnacle was to game designers what Cannes was to filmmakers. The premier event to see and be seen. To have your art admired by the entire industry. Gamers would stand in line for days for a ticket. Booths were awarded by invitation only. Pinnacle was… the pinnacle. He let out a slow breath, hardly daring to believe it was true. Only in his wildest dreams… “You’re kidding.”

Jager laughed, but it was an ugly sound. “I would never kid about something like that.” He walked to the sideboard and poured himself another drink.

“Jager, you’ve had enough,” Derek started, but Jager flashed him a furious glare.

“Shut up. Just shut up. I’m so fucking tired of you and your ‘don’t do this’ and ‘don’t do that.’” He tossed back a swallow. “ We’re going to Pinnacle because I took a risk. Because I had the balls to push the envelope. Because I have what it takes to succeed.”

Derek cocked his jaw, coldly furious at what had been left unsaid. “And I don’t.”

Jager spread his arms wide. “You said it.” He looked away. “Partner,” he muttered.

“I am, you know,” Derek said quietly.

“What?”

“Your partner.”

“Then start acting like one,” Jager said flatly. “And stop acting like some religious fanatic. Frasier Lewis’s art is entertainment, Derek. Period.”