Into the Dark (The Cincinnati Series Book 5) (Cincinnati 5) Page 6

  ‘No,’ Grant murmured. ‘I don’t. Do you know where he’s been going?’

  ‘No. Again, I hoped you’d know.’ She hesitated. ‘I think he might be drinking. I mean, like, a lot.’ She shrugged again. ‘Something’s wrong. I stopped by his place and knocked, but he didn’t answer. I’m afraid he’s somewhere hurt or sick.’

  Grant scrubbed his hands down his face. Not again, he wanted to groan, but kept it silent. Wesley’s partner didn’t need to know that he’d likely thrown away a whole year of sobriety. Or maybe not a whole year, if he’d been disappearing for a long time.

  Goddammit, Wes. You would pick the busiest fucking time of the year to go AWOL. You’d better be sick or hurt, or you will be when I find your drunk ass in whatever gutter you’ve passed out in.

  He took another deep breath, then another. Yes, his brother had suffered a loss. But we all did. I miss her, too, but you don’t see me crawling into a fucking bottle.

  Because Grant had responsibilities.

  He lifted his gaze to meet Tracy’s sympathetic one. ‘I’ll ask my wife to stop by his apartment. We have a key for emergencies.’ Not to feed a pet or water plants, because Wesley had nothing alive in his apartment. If you don’t count the mold growing on the old food in his fridge.

  Tracy rose, a faint smile on her face. ‘Thank you. Let me know what you find, okay? I like him. He’s been a good mentor to me. I’ve covered for him a time or two, but I can’t do that anymore.’

  ‘Of course you can’t,’ Grant said gently when he really wanted to scream. ‘I’ll let you know whatever I find.’

  ‘Take care,’ Tracy said. ‘And try to get some rest.’

  ‘After April fifteenth,’ he said wearily.

  When the door had closed behind her, he called his wife with a sigh. Then winced when he heard screaming children in the background. ‘Hey, Cora,’ he said, hoping she wouldn’t sound too frazzled.

  ‘Grant,’ she breathed hopefully, and his heart squeezed. She was hoping he was calling to say he was coming home to give her a break.

  He was going to disappoint her again.

  ‘I need a favor.’

  There was a beat of harsh silence on the other end, followed by a tense ‘What?’

  ‘It’s Wes. He’s disappeared. His partner just left my office. He’s gone AWOL.’

  Cora sighed. ‘Oh no. You don’t think he’s . . . you know.’

  Yes, Grant knew. ‘I don’t know if he’s drinking again or not. I was hoping you could get a sitter and go check on him.’

  She sighed again, exasperated. ‘Like I’ll be able to find a sitter at this short notice. It’s Saturday afternoon, Grant. Besides, if I could get a sitter, I’d go to the spa or the mall or the gym or anywhere but your brother’s apartment.’

  ‘Cora—’ he started, but she cut him off, her tone shrill and exhausted.

  ‘I have an idea. Why don’t you come home and watch your children and then I can go?’

  Their three children – fourteen-month-old twins and a month-old singlet – were enough to exhaust an Olympic athlete. It was no wonder Cora was tired. She had no help, because he’d been working ridiculous hours. Guilt pierced him. Sometimes he hated his job. Especially in March and April.

  He gentled his voice. ‘Tell you what, honey. I’ll get you a sitter and I’ll go to Wes’s to check on him. You can take the afternoon to do anything you want to do.’

  ‘I want to have a few hours with you,’ she whispered. ‘I miss you.’

  ‘I miss you too, baby,’ he said regretfully, understanding why a third of his peers were divorced. He hoped he could make it up to her after April fifteenth. ‘Soon we’ll have a lot of time. I’m sorry.’

  She sighed again, this one sounding defeated. ‘I know. I’m sorry to be demanding. I know you’re upset about Wesley. I’m just so tired.’

  ‘I know, baby. I’ll find you a sitter.’

  ‘That’s okay, Grant. I’ll get some sleep when I put them all down for a nap. Go check on your brother. We’re fine here.’

  ‘I love you. I don’t deserve you.’

  She chuckled, and he felt better. ‘I love you, too. And no, you don’t. Call me when you find Wes.’

  ‘I will.’ Grant disconnected, then grabbed his keys and wallet. ‘MaryBeth?’ She met him in the hallway, clearly curious about his visitor but too polite to ask. ‘Does your niece still do nanny work?’

  ‘Au pair,’ she corrected primly. ‘And yes. She’s just returned from a year in Germany. Would you like me to send her to your house?’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, please. And call my wife to let her know that she’s coming. I’ll be back soon.’ He hoped.

  He gave a last look at his desk, its surface barely visible under all the stacks of tax returns. Goddammit, Wes. Couldn’t you have fallen off the wagon on April sixteenth?

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Saturday, 16 March, 1.05 P.M.

  Keenly aware of the big man behind her, Dani walked to her office and sat behind her desk, waiting until Diesel came in and closed the door. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. Do to him. But she knew any relationship with Diesel Kennedy would only end in heartbreak for both of them.

  So she kept her thoughts focused on the most important thing – the two boys in her waiting room. ‘You asked Scarlett to call CPS?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and she winced, his booming voice sending a shard of pain through her ear and into her head.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, and turned the volume down. ‘I turned it up to hear what you were whispering to Scarlett. In here, I don’t need it at all. Have a seat, Coach.’

  He met her gaze unflinchingly, clearly understanding what she’d done by putting the desk between them. Distance was key to her sanity.

  He was close enough, though, that she could detect his scent, and it was as it always was – delicious. Like verbena soap and light sweat. Common enough, but on him? Really, really good.

  She concentrated on not sniffing the air like a puppy. That would be humiliating.

  He was close enough that she could read his lips. Which were firm and full and . . . No, no, no. Do not look at his lips. He’ll know.

  He was too damn close. That was all.

  So find out what’s going on so that you can open the door and air the room out. You don’t want to be leaping over the desk and into his lap.

  She cleared her throat. ‘I’m wearing my lab coat.’

  Which was so not what she’d planned to say.

  He nodded. ‘I’ve been working on that phobia. Desensitizing.’

  When he’d first met her, he’d experienced panic attacks whenever he saw her in a white lab coat. But not today.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, and clenched her jaw. She hadn’t meant to ask that either.

  He tilted his head, the light from the window highlighting his jaw, which was square and strong.

  Like all of him.

  ‘I didn’t want to be triggered by doctors anymore,’ he said. His gaze dropped to her mouth briefly before rising to her eyes.

  She nearly fanned herself. ‘That’s good. I mean . . . good.’ She closed her eyes and drew a breath, aware that her nostrils were flaring but unable to change the fact. ‘So . . . Michael Rowland.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I need your help. He needs your help.’

  She opened her eyes, locked onto his. ‘Why CPS, Diesel? What’s going on at his home?’

  He settled his big body into the chair. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on that man. Anywhere. ‘I don’t know exactly,’ he finally answered. ‘Joshua said that their mother hits Michael. She threw a bowl at him this morning. That’s what needs to be stitched. I also saw him wincing when he shrugged, then later he only used one shoulder.’ The side of his mouth lifted sadly. ‘I guess teenagers have to shrug to communicate,
so he couldn’t stop altogether.’

  She couldn’t help it. She smiled at him. Really smiled. ‘Yeah, I know that from experience. My brother Greg has the shrug down to an art form.’

  He swallowed hard, his chest rising as he drew a breath of his own. He was staring at her mouth again. Then he blinked, jerking his chin up.

  ‘Michael says he knows your brother. From school. That you’re Greg’s sister was the one thing that convinced him it was okay to come in.’

  ‘I’ll use that then. I’ve got contacts in CPS.’ She lifted a brow. ‘As do you.’

  Scarlett had told her long ago that some of Diesel and Marcus’s best tips for Ledger investigations had come from social workers who’d been frustrated at being unable to remove children from abusive parents who knew how to work the system in their favor. Or rich parents who knew how to buy their way out.

  His only reaction to her statement was a slow blink. ‘Yours are more appropriate for today’s problem, though.’

  ‘True. I’ll call Maddie Shafer. She’s quick and sensitive to kids with special needs like Michael. I take it that you don’t want to take the boys back to their home.’

  ‘No. Joshua is mine to keep safe.’

  Her heart squeezed so hard that it hurt. This big, scary-looking man was as protective as the day was long. She should know. He’d once saved her life.

  She had the scar to remind her of the day she’d been dragged away by a killer who’d plunged a knife into her gut and left her for dead. She’d been caring for Decker Davenport, an FBI agent who worked with her brother Deacon, after Decker was shot by a local gang to stop him from sharing what he’d learned while undercover. Dani’s attacker had been a supplier of drugs to the gang and had feared Decker’s information could bring him down as well. Knowing that Dani was Decker’s private physician, he’d tried to use her to obtain Decker’s location. It had been Diesel who’d been watching over her, who’d stopped her abduction, and who’d gotten her to the hospital after her attacker’s knife sliced her open. She still remembered the feel of his big hands as he’d carried her into the closest ER.

  He hadn’t known that he was risking his own life that day. But he’d found out in a hurry. They’d taken the clothes he’d been wearing and tossed them into a biohazard bag because they’d been covered in her blood. Her HIV-positive blood.

  She’d expected the knowledge to drive him away, but it hadn’t. Not in all this time.

  Diesel Kennedy was a protector. She’d do her best to help him, because the world needed men like him. Children needed to know that there were still people to protect them, especially kids whose parents had abdicated that responsibility.

  ‘Do you have any kind of parental permission to have Michael treated?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘He’s not on my team. Only Joshua is.’

  She sighed. ‘I can’t treat him then, not until CPS tells me to.’

  ‘His head’s bleeding, Dani,’ Diesel said quietly. ‘Can you at least bandage him up, even if you can’t do stitches?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll ready a room for him,’ she said, standing. ‘And as soon as CPS arrives, I can stitch him up.’

  Diesel stood as well. ‘He ran six miles in thirty minutes with a head wound,’ he offered. ‘I don’t know if that has worsened his injury or not.’

  Dani’s eyes grew wide. ‘Wow. The kid is fast. Let’s make sure he doesn’t run from us.’

  His lips quirked again. ‘From us. Sounds like a plan.’

  She needed to correct him. Needed to tell him that nothing had changed for her. That there was no ‘us’. It wouldn’t be a lie. She wanted him as much as she always had. But that there could never be a ‘them’ remained equally true.

  She needed to say the words, but they would not come. ‘Right,’ she murmured, then waited for him to leave first. But he remained where he stood, silently challenging her to move past him. She should have told him to go, but those words wouldn’t come either.

  She squeezed by him, unable to keep from drawing one last breath to fill her head with his scent.

  And watched him do the same.

  God. She opened the door, let the cooler non-Diesel-scented air of the waiting room fill her lungs. ‘Jenny, can you prep a room for Michael, please? I’ll need a suture kit.’ She moved closer to her nurse and murmured, ‘I need to call Maddie Shafer at CPS and my cousin Adam. We need them here for the exam.’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Will do.’

  Dani turned to Michael to tell him what would happen next, but froze once again, her mouth dropping open in shock. Diesel was signing to Michael. Diesel. And he was doing pretty well, too.

  She didn’t know he could sign. Where had he learned? When had he learned?

  Why had he learned?

  ‘You can sign?’ she blurted.

  He turned to her, his eyes more compelling than they’d ever been before. He nodded, holding her gaze for a moment that seemed to stretch on and on.

  ‘I thought I might need it in the future,’ he said quietly. ‘To talk to Greg.’ He didn’t even blink, his message coming across loud and clear.

  Game on.

  Dani swallowed hard, her control faltering. He’d learned to sign to talk to Greg? He didn’t interact with Greg except at holiday parties.

  He’d only interact one on one with Greg if . . . if we become ‘us’.

  She took a giant step back, bumping into the counter. Unable to say a word, she turned and fled to her office to make her calls. She needed a few minutes to shore up her defenses. And then she’d tell Diesel Kennedy, once and for all, to back off.

  And then?

  I’ll be lonely. But he’ll be safe.

  Indian Hill, Ohio

  Saturday, 16 March, 1.45 P.M.

  Cade pulled the stethoscope away from Richard’s chest. Finally. It had taken hours longer than he’d expected. But his boss was finally and definitely dead.

  An insulin overdose would do that to a man. Unfortunately, Richard hadn’t died as painfully as he’d deserved. He’d died in his own bed, in his own house. He’d probably been unconscious for most of the fun. He should have been awake, meeting the same fate as the others.

  Richard had known. He’d done it twice – trafficked human beings twice. Actually he’d done it more than twice, but Cade hadn’t been aware of that until he’d broken into Richard’s very private database. Twice, however, would have been enough.

  Cade would have preferred to kill him with the Sawzall, dumping him in the river, too, but Richard would be missed and possibly connected to his missing guests. That would connect to Cade, and that would be bad.

  Plus, he needed Richard’s death to appear natural, if premature, so that he could get another job. It was easier to say you’d left your old job because your boss had had a heart attack. Far more difficult if the guy had mysteriously gone missing.

  So he’d used Richard’s body against him. The man had suffered from Type 1 diabetes and had been insulin dependent for years. Cade had seen him injecting himself a number of times.

  He’d given him an extra dose. Or ten. The timing was convenient. Richard wouldn’t be expected back at the riverboat casino until Wednesday night, and by then all the insulin would be out of his system.

  There were no super-secret poker games during that time, and Richard often left the normal casino operation to his manager. There would be no suspicion of any foul play.

  Cade would show up on time for his shifts, behaving as if nothing was wrong. And then when Richard’s body was finally found, he’d be so damn sad.

  He turned to Richard’s mirror and practiced his sad face. Then laughed because his sad face needed some work. That was okay. He had a few days to perfect it.

  Cade quickly removed the soft velvet ties from Richard’s wrist, ensuring that there were no bruises or abrasions before st
owing his stethoscope in his gym bag. Then he slipped out of Richard’s house via the basement door, setting the alarm and locking it behind him with the key Richard had given him months ago. He had a minute to get past the cameras before the security system engaged.

  The basement door opened to the backyard, which had an eight-foot-high privacy fence. Tall enough that Cade didn’t have to slouch to keep his head from being seen as he jogged to the back gate. His SUV was parked on the next street. He needed to hurry. He had an appointment with his father in the nursing home.

  He visited his dad every Saturday, rain or shine. The old man couldn’t say anything to him, but he listened. Cade never held back.

  Major Konrad Kaiser – US Army JAG Corps, Retired – had controlled Cade’s life when he was younger. He’d been a firm believer in ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’. No one could ever say that Cade had been spoiled. Or that his mother had.

  But Konrad was smart enough to know where to hit. And when. There were never visible marks for a teacher to see and report. Not that it would have stuck.

  Major Konrad Kaiser – US Army JAG Corps, Retired – knew the law. Knew how to get around the law.

  And knew powerful people who’d gotten him out of trouble the two times he’d ‘gone too far’. That was what he’d called it, both times he’d hit Cade’s mother too hard. The first time, she’d landed in the hospital. Cade had been ten.

  The second time, she’d landed at the bottom of the basement stairs after Konrad had snapped her neck with his bare hands. Cade had been almost twenty-one and he still had nightmares about what he’d seen that night.

  God, he hated the SOB. His father had never let Cade have the last word. Until he’d had a ‘stroke’ four years before. He was supposed to have died, but he’d been found too soon. That had taught Cade the value of proper planning. And making sure that his victim was actually dead before he walked away. He’d bought the stethoscope the very next day.

  That particular outcome, however, hadn’t been a bad one. Cade liked this version of his father – a pathetic old man who was dependent on strangers to feed him, wash him, and change his diapers.