Karen Rose - Kill for Me

“Size of a dime at least.” His eye narrowed. “Why?”

“Did you know,” Chloe asked, “that Kate had that design branded on her hip?”

His eyes widened in shock once again. “What? No.”

“What was the relationship between your sister and your wife?” Chloe asked.

His mouth fell open. “Are you saying they were… sexually involved?”

“No,” Chloe said. “Are you?”

“ No ,” he said, horrified. “They were like sisters. Barbara made Kate beautiful. She made sure she wore the right clothes, taught her to walk and talk. My God.” He looked sick. “My wife and my sister ?”

“You are aware that your wife ran a prostitution business in which she peddled minor girls, aren’t you?” Chloe asked mildly.

“I read about the girls, yes…” His shoulders sagged. “I never knew before. I never knew what was happening under my own roof. Did she… Did she molest my boys?”

“We have no indication of that,” Chloe said. “The court will order counseling for them when custody is awarded. You’ve been candid with us, so I’ll be candid. We’ve had reports that your wife operated as a call girl up until your election as mayor of Dutton.”

Garth fell back in his chair. “What?”

“We found records on her computer. She took in as much as five hundred an hour. One of her former clients came forward to report she’d blackmailed him afterward. The names of the ‘friends’ she had in Atlanta match some of the names on her client list.”

Susannah looked up at Luke. He looked surprised, too.

Garth grew pale. “All that time…” he whispered. “She said she had an interior design business. My uncle Rob always said she was white trash. I should have listened.”

Susannah rubbed her temples. “Garth, I was looking through the yearbooks this morning,” she said. “There were only a few kids at Bryson Academy whose families weren’t wealthy. Barbara lived with her aunt, right? They were far from rich.”

“She was there on scholarship,” he murmured. “One of the teachers helped her get it. I can’t do anymore. Take me back.”

When he was gone, Chloe shook her head. “His wife sells children to perverts, kills his sister, and he’s most rocked by the fact she cheated on him.”

Luke tipped up Susannah’s chin. “Your mother and Simon. That was a shock.”

“But it explains a lot.” Her mouth curved bitterly. “Fine stock Daniel and I come from.”

“Sounds like your whole town is one big, festering Peyton Place,” Chloe said. “But they say wildflowers that sprout up in weeds are stronger than any rose.”

Susannah smiled ruefully. “Thank you, Chloe.”

Chloe stood. “I’m off to another heart-to-heart with an inmate. If you hurry, you might meet Daniel coming into the lobby on your way out.”

“Daniel’s here?” Luke asked.

“He got discharged from the hospital this morning,” Susannah said. “I didn’t know he was coming here, though.”

“Alex has some unfinished business with her stepfather,” Chloe said. “They can tell you about it. I’ll see you two later.”

When she was gone, Luke pulled her to her feet. “I’ll take you back to meet Talia so you can search for Marcy/Darcy’s family.” He hesitated. “You don’t really buy that tripe about bad stock, do you?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t seem to matter if it’s nature or nurture in this case. Both suck, for Daniel and me. It’s no wonder Simon became such a monster.”

“But you and Daniel became good people.”

She made her lips curve even though her stomach churned worse than before she’d come in. “Two outta three ain’t bad?”

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 10:00 a.m.

Charles was laying out his black suit when his cell phone rang. “Paul. Well?”

“It’s done. I appreciate the heads up. That sketch artist had done a damn good job. Anybody at APD who saw that sketch would have recognized me in two seconds.”

“You got her original sketch and all copies?”

“Yes. The artist had already uploaded it to GBI’s server, but she erased it before I erased her . And today,” he said with a smile in his voice, “I got a new assignment.”

Charles stopped fussing with his tie selection. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, it seems the GBI Investigative Unit is a little shorthanded at this time, since so many of their agents are either dead or hospitalized.”

“Yes, I imagine their ranks are rather depleted at the moment. So?”

“So, they’ve asked APD to help guard those they think are still at risk from Bobby. I volunteered for duty.”

Charles sat down, his pulse increasing. “You’re guarding Susannah?”

“Not quite. Papadopoulos kept that job. But close. I’m guarding the venerable and brave Daniel Vartanian.”

Charles’s smile broadened. “Excellent. Where will you be?”

“I’m stationed outside his house while he convalesces. I’m supposed to keep the press away as well as any potential bad guys.”

“We’ll see that he has a lot of peace and quiet,” Charles said. His smile vanished. “I assume his personal nurse will be with him, that Alex Fallon.”

“I assume so.”

“They killed Toby Granville.”

“Mack O’Brien killed Granville, Charles, not Daniel Vartanian or Alex Fallon.”

“I don’t care. The events were set in motion because of Vartanian and that nurse of his. He and Fallon killed one of mine. They’ll pay for that. I have to go now. There’s another funeral today and I have to dress.”

“Who’s getting buried this time?”

“Congressman Bowie’s daughter, Janet. We’re expecting the press to descend like locusts. The traffic will be unbearable. The funeral, burial, and the lunch in the church afterward will make this an all-day affair. Text me if you need me. I won’t be able to use my cell phone in the church.”

“Will do.”

Charles eyed the surgical kit he’d used to patch Bobby up the night before. It had been a Christmas gift from Toby Granville. Charles had gotten a lot of use from it this week already between Judge Borenson and Bobby Davis. He thought Toby would have been happy to know that. “And Paul, don’t kill Vartanian yourself. Bring him to me.”

“Put him in the usual place?”

“Yeah. You’ll need to dispose of Judge Borenson, though.”

Paul grunted in disgust. “How long has he been dead, Charles?”

“He might still be alive. I haven’t checked on him in a few days.”

“Have you gotten everything you needed to know from him?”

“Yes. If he’s not dead yet, do what you wish to him. And make Daniel watch.”

“What about the sister?”

“I’ll take care of her in my own way.”

“Do it fast. When GBI discovers that the sketch artist is dead, they’ll just have Susannah work with another artist. She could bury me. You promised she wouldn’t.”

“And she won’t.”

“You should have killed her years ago, Charles.”

“She’ll die today,” Charles snapped. “I have to go. Keep in touch.”

Atlanta, Monday, February 5, 10:45 a.m.

Luke and Susannah found Chase in his office with a uniformed officer, a young man with a sketch pad under one arm. “We’re back,” Luke said.

“Come in,” Chase said, tersely. “Susannah, too.”

Luke and Susannah shared an uneasy glance. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“The sketch artist didn’t show up for duty this morning. Pete found traces of blood in her apartment. Ed’s there now.”

Luke blew out a breath. “Hell.”

Susannah pursed her lips. “Her sketches were gone?”

Chase nodded. “From the apartment and from our server. They were wiped before the server did its nightly backup. This is Officer Greenburg. He’s one of APD’s sketch artists. Susannah, we need another description. You can use the conference room.”