Karen Rose - Kill for Me

“Just when we needed it,” Luke said bitterly. “Just like the information supplied by Kate Davis, aka Rocky.”

“This is going to kill Daniel,” Chloe said.

“Let’s get word to him, so that it doesn’t,” Luke said tersely. “I need a warrant.”

“You got a clear ID?”

“Not his face,” Luke said. “Just his shoes.”

“I don’t know if I can get you a warrant on shoes, Luke.”

“Dammit, Chloe…”

“Luke,” Nate said. He’d clicked through a few more pictures. “Look.”

The camera angle was different. “Wait,” he said and zoomed in. “How about the head of a walking stick identical to the one Charles Grant used at Sheila’s funeral?”

“Much better. You get started for Dutton. You’ll have a warrant when you get there.”

“Thanks, Chloe.” Luke hung up and dialed Chase, filling him in.

“Good work,” Chase said. “I’ll contact Germanio. They should be at the cemetery and hopefully Grant is there. Germanio can watch him while you get down there and search his house. Bobby could be hiding there. Oh, and Luke, I just hung up with that agent in North Carolina. Harry Grimes. He’s been trying your cell for over an hour.”

“My cell doesn’t work in The Room.”

“I told him that. He refused to tell me what he wanted, just that it was urgent.”

“I’ll call him. Chase, have you heard from Talia and Susannah?”

“Yes, she’s safe. Now go.”

Luke turned to Nate. “Can you send these pics to Chloe for the warrant?”

“Already done. I just e-mailed them to her. Go. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” A glance at his call log revealed six calls from Harry Grimes. Luke dialed him as he ran down the stairs toward his car. “Harry, it’s Luke Papadopoulos.”

“I have news for you. It’s sensitive and I wasn’t sure who I could trust.”

“What is it?”

“I found video of Genie Cassidy’s abduction. Someone observed the whole thing. Someone driving a Crown Vic registered to an Atlanta cop. Name’s Paul Houston.”

“A cop?” Luke didn’t have time for pause, although a major chunk of the puzzle had just fallen into place. “My God. Now it makes sense.”

“It does?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, it does.” Now he knew how Bobby was able to force Nurse Jennifer Ohman to keep Monica silent and the male nurse to try to kill Ryan Beardsley, and maybe even how she was able to force Leigh Smithson to aid her. Bobby was working with a cop. A cop would know about drug addictions and other secrets, and a dirty cop would use those to blackmail. “I’m running to an emergency. I need you to call my boss back. Tell him what you told me, fast. Thanks, Harry, we owe you one.”

“Glad to help. Good luck.”

Yeah , Luke thought as he reached his car. I need all the good luck I can get.

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:00 p.m.

Susannah sat in her father’s chair, frustrated. “I know he kept records, Talia, but they’re not anywhere I’ve looked. I’m going about this wrong. If he had records, he wouldn’t store them where they could be easily found.” She closed her eyes. “I remember hiding at the top of the stairs when I was little, knowing people were meeting with my father, in this office. Even then I knew there was something wrong going on.”

“You were a child,” Talia said softly. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I know that, just like I know I’m not responsible for Darcy’s death. But knowing is different from knowing .” Susannah kept her eyes closed. “I’d sit at the top of the stairs and listen, then they’d leave and my father-Arthur-would lock the front door.”

“What did your father do after he locked the door?”

“He’d go back into his office. Once I got brave and crept down the stairs to listen. There was a rustle, then a pop.” She looked over the room, her gaze falling on the thick Persian rug that had covered the carpet for as long as she could remember. She knew there was a floor safe in her parents’ bedroom, but that floor was hardwood and this one was carpeted. Still… She went to the Persian and pulled back the edge.

“It didn’t rustle,” Talia said, still standing in the doorway. “Pull it harder.”

Susannah did, making a whipping noise as the Persian rolled on itself. “That’s the sound.” She dropped to her knees and examined the carpet. “God, he was a wily piece of work. This carpet below is pieced.” Carefully she pulled it up. “Another floor safe.”

“Can you open it?” Talia asked.

“Probably, if I think hard enough. Arthur used to use birthdays of relatives for his combinations. He thought he was being clever and we never knew.” She tried her mother’s birthday, then Simon’s, then any others she could remember. Grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts and uncles. None worked.

“Maybe he picked something different for this safe,” Talia said. “Not a birthday.”

“Maybe, but he was a creature of habit. I guess I got one thing from him honestly.” Then she knew. “Honestly,” she murmured again, then twisted the dial and popped the door. “Daniel’s birthday. Daniel will get a kick out of that.” The judge used the birthday of the one man he couldn’t corrupt, but who tortured himself over the sins of his father .

Arthur had thought Daniel weak. He thought the same about me . The judge was mistaken, she thought as she drew out several bound ledgers and journals. Bingo.

Talia came to sit on the floor beside her. “He must have thirty years of records in here. Why not use a safe-deposit box?”

“He didn’t trust banks. Marcy should be in this one.” Flipping pages, she found the entry. “My God. He wanted seventy-five thousand dollars from the Lintons. No wonder they couldn’t come up with the money.”

“So what happened with Borenson?” Talia asked.

“Hell.” She ran her finger down the page. “He says that the girl’s ‘handler’ stepped in and threatened Borenson and he ‘folded like a house of cards.’ ”

“Handler?” Talia asked. “So she really was soliciting?”

“Sounds like it.” Susannah read on. “Marcy was soliciting, but for more than sex. It says here that she’d pick rich men who liked young girls, seduce them, then threaten to tell their wives if they didn’t pay her. She’d give the money to her handler and he’d pay her a cut.” She met Talia’s eyes. “Bobby did that for years, too, in Atlanta. Chloe told Garth Davis that she’d found the transaction records.”

“Another connection,” Talia murmured. “Does your father say who the handler is?”

Susannah read it, then read it again, then stared at the page, stunned. “He says Marcy’s handler was Charles Grant. That… that doesn’t make sense.”

“It fits. Chase called me when we were driving from the Lintons’. Luke found one of Mansfield’s pictures from the bunker-a man with a walking stick, like Charles Grant’s.”

Susannah’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were so pale I thought you’d pass out, and you got paler as we got closer to this place. I figured I’d let you deal with one stress at a time.”

“You’re right, I guess. But Charles Grant ?” She was still numb. “He was Daniel’s favorite teacher. He was everybody’s favorite teacher.”

“He also may be a killer. What else does the journal say, Susannah?”

Susannah kept reading, past stunned. “ Little prick, trying to squeeze me. He might scare Carol with all his Asian voo-doo, but all his talk of occult and thích s doesn’t scare me. Grant’s a fucking opportunist. He’ll use whatever it takes to get what he wants. He thought he could use Simon to get to me, but I took care of Simon’s sins. He thought he’d use Susannah to get to me. Like that was ever going to work. She’s…” Susannah faltered. “She’s nothing to me.”