Death Is Not Enough Read online

  ‘Probably not today,’ Jamie said. ‘He’s going to want all his ducks in a row before he does that.’

  Because the state would have only seventy-two hours to arraign Thorne if charges were brought.

  ‘Plus,’ Jamie continued, ‘I don’t think he believes you did it.’

  Thorne lifted his head at that. ‘He doesn’t?’

  Gwyn agreed with Jamie’s assessment. She’d seen the flash of relief in the lieutenant’s eyes when the lawyer had shown up and interrupted the interview. She didn’t like Hyatt because he was an overly dramatic, condescendingly arrogant asshole who reminded her far too much of her father. Both of them could make her feel like a worthless piece of shit with barely an effort.

  Hyatt had insinuated that she’d gotten what she’d signed up for when she’d cozied up to a strange man like Evan so quickly. Even though it hadn’t been quickly. She’d waited months before letting her guard down. Evan had been determined. He’d been so slick that he’d fooled everyone.

  So they’d all told her. Except for Lieutenant Hyatt. When he’d interviewed her in the hospital, he’d treated her as if Evan’s killing spree had been her fault, or worse, that she’d somehow suspected. Even though he’d fooled everyone.

  At least Hyatt never hit with his fists, so in that way he was better than her father. Still, the very sight of him made her furious. She couldn’t even think about the time he’d set Lucy up to be human bait to lure their would-be killer. He didn’t care who he used or who he hurt.

  And now Thorne’s future was in his hands. She’d just have to be extra vigilant, to make sure the lieutenant kept everything above board. At least at this point she didn’t think Hyatt believed Thorne was guilty. If that changed, though . . .

  ‘The whole setup was too pat,’ she said. ‘And your alcohol level was under point zero two when the medics arrived. Barely registered. Plus, you’ve got bruises all over your body. Some are finger-shaped. Like you were grabbed. Some are big and nasty-looking, like you were kicked. Whatever happened, you put up a fight.’

  Jamie nodded. ‘And Hyatt knows all this. But . . .’ he shrugged, ‘he’s got the prosecutors watching him, making sure he doesn’t play favorites because so many of his people like you. He’s going to be playing this by the book, every step of the way. For your protection as much as anyone’s. You’ve done favors for Hyatt’s detectives in the past. He knows where key leads have come from. The man’s a damn bull in a china shop, but he’s fair. And, to a certain extent, loyal. We just have to figure out how to play this ourselves.’

  Thorne’s expression had gone neutral. Which meant he’d shut his emotions down and was thinking. Good. ‘The scene was contaminated by the medics, so CSU didn’t get photos of the original setup.’ It wasn’t phrased as a question. ‘That could be good or bad for me, depending on how well those responsible set the scene.’

  Jamie handed Thorne his phone. ‘Gwyn took photos of your bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom before the medics got there.’

  Thorne’s glance shot to Gwyn. ‘You did that?’

  Gwyn nodded once. ‘Yes.’ Because I was falling apart and had to keep busy. Because you were dying. And because there was a woman in your bed.

  Planted there. The woman had been planted there. Those were the facts.

  Unless – or until – they were proven false. Because everyone lies about something. Except Thorne. He’d never lied to her. Ever. Not in twelve years.

  She shut down the doubts that continued to nag. This was her anxiety talking. And her anxiety was a lying, deceitful bitch.

  Thorne’s lips curved. ‘Thank you. I don’t think I’d have had the presence of mind to do the same if I’d found you the same way.’

  The praise warmed her, shining light in the darkness of her mind, driving away those nagging doubts. But before she could respond, he’d dropped his gaze back to Jamie’s phone. ‘How did you send Jamie these photos, Gwyn?’

  ‘I uploaded them to the Cloud, then deleted them from my phone. I called Jamie from a burner phone later and told him how to get the pics.’

  Thorne was nodding. ‘Good. There’ll be a trail, but only if they can get a warrant for your Cloud account.’

  ‘Which is not in my name,’ Gwyn said, miffed that he hadn’t assumed as much.

  His grin was quick and sharp. ‘Excellent.’ In seconds, though, the grin was gone and he was frowning at the photos. ‘What was supposed to have happened?’

  ‘You mean if Gwyn hadn’t shown up?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Thorne shot a look at her. ‘Why were you there?’

  Gwyn opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head. ‘We can talk about it later. In the grand scheme of everything, it’s not important.’ Except that it might be. Especially if Lucy was right and Thorne really did have feelings.

  But do I?

  Well, yeah. Because to begin with, I’m pissed to holy hell that there was a woman in his bed. Which is irrational under the circumstances. Obviously I have feelings. And those feelings might be important. But later.

  Thorne continued to stare at her for another few seconds. ‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘So if you hadn’t come at six thirty-five and found me nearly dead with a dead woman beside me, what might have happened? Would I have died? Was I supposed to die?’

  Gwyn bit at her lip. ‘It doesn’t make sense that they’d go to all that trouble only to kill you. They could have just killed you after they drugged you, and left you behind Barney’s Bar. Instead, they dragged you home and staged that.’ She gestured to the phone. ‘I think finding out what drug you were given might help answer that question, but it seems like there were a few possible scenarios.’

  Thorne handed Jamie his phone, then lay back in the bed, his eyes closed, his jaw tight as if he were in pain. ‘Like?’

  Standing, Gwyn leaned over the bedrail and pressed her fingertips to his temples, rubbing in little circles. He immediately hummed in relief. ‘Your headache’s worse?’ she murmured.

  ‘Hurts like a bitch,’ he admitted.

  ‘They probably won’t give you any painkillers. Not until they’re sure all the shit is out of your system.’

  ‘I figured as much. But that pressure feels a little better. Tell me the scenarios, because Hyatt’s not going to give us much more time.’

  ‘Well, for one, you might have died and one of us would have found you and the dead woman tomorrow when you didn’t show up for work.’ Which probably would have been me. She sent a little thank-you heavenward. I’m so glad it wasn’t this scenario.

  Thorne grimaced. ‘We need to find out if whatever I was given would have worked its way out of my system over a certain amount of time, making it look like I died – and murdered that woman – while stone-cold sober. What else?’

  Gwyn saw Jamie punching notes into his phone. The older man looked up and gave her an encouraging nod. ‘Keep going, Gwyn.’

  ‘Well, you might have woken up on your own and discovered a dead woman in your bed. What do you think you would have done?’

  ‘Probably the same thing you did. I’d have called Lucy.’ His smile was grim. ‘I mean, why have a friend who’s an ME if you can’t call them when you have a dead body in your bed?’

  ‘She would have called JD,’ Gwyn said. ‘Just like she did this morning.’

  ‘I know. I still would have called. I would have called 911 too.’

  She watched the two men share a long, long look. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘What was that look for?’

  ‘This isn’t the first time Thorne’s been set up for a murder,’ Jamie said quietly. ‘The thing that saved him from a conviction the last time was that he made his friend call 911.’

  She opened her mouth to ask more questions, because how could she leave a statement like that alone? She’d known he’d been tried for murder and found not guilty, but she ha
d never heard the details. She could have looked them up, but she’d always figured that if he’d wanted her to know, he would have told her.

  Thorne shook his head. ‘Keep giving me scenarios. We’re running out of time.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said unsteadily. ‘If you were supposed to wake up at some point, perhaps someone else might have been supposed to find you. Or maybe whoever did this took their own photos.’

  ‘Blackmail,’ Thorne said flatly. ‘Or extortion.’

  ‘Which would only have worked if you’d woken on your own and not called 911,’ Jamie said.

  ‘What might they have blackmailed you about, Thorne?’ Gwyn asked.

  ‘Money. Influence on a case.’ Thorne frowned. ‘Or it could have been targeted at the club. I get threats all the time there. Little mobster wannabes trying to distribute through Sheidalin. I threw a sleazebag out just last weekend. He threatened me and my little dog too. I didn’t tell him that I only have a cat.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me about that!’ Gwyn exclaimed.

  ‘I don’t tell you about those things.’ He closed his eyes again. ‘You’ve got enough on your mind with running the place.’

  ‘And you don’t think I can handle a few thugs?’

  He sighed. ‘I don’t want you to have to handle them. I was just trying to help you.’ He winced. ‘Don’t yell at me. I have a headache.’

  She drew a breath, let it out. ‘Well, when you no longer have a headache, Mr Thorne, we shall have quite a lively conversation.’

  ‘Then I think I’ll have a headache forever,’ he said glumly. ‘I’m serious,’ he added when Jamie chuckled. ‘Wait.’ His frown deepened. ‘Where is my cat? Is he okay?’

  ‘Clay came to get him,’ Gwyn told him. ‘He’s got Tweety too.’ Which also gave her peace of mind. Taylor was at Clay’s, watching Lucy and JD’s children, who loved her dog.

  ‘Good.’ Thorne glanced at Jamie. ‘What should I do next?’

  ‘For now, nothing. You say nothing to Hyatt. We will investigate this. We have resources. The doctors will tell us what you were drugged with and we’ll start looking into all of these scenarios. I will personally contact Bernice Brown and make sure she is okay. I’ll also ask her who else knew you were coming to that club to help her.’

  ‘I have cameras at my house,’ Thorne told him. ‘The footage gets uploaded to an offsite server in addition to being DVRed in my house.’

  ‘We’ll find out if the DVR is still there. If it is, we’ll compare it to the recordings on the server.’ Jamie glanced at his phone. ‘Text from Phil. Hyatt’s coming.’

  ‘Phil’s here too?’ The hopeful, almost boyish note in Thorne’s voice was hard to miss. The two men were like fathers to him, Gwyn knew. She didn’t know how that had come about, but they’d been part of his life since she’d known him.

  Jamie’s smile was gentle. ‘Couldn’t keep him away. He’s been pacing outside in the hall. Don’t worry, Thorne. We’ll take care of this. We’ll take care of you.’

  Thorne stared at him, then abruptly closed his eyes and cleared his throat. ‘I could use some more of that water, Gwyn.’

  Gwyn swabbed his mouth. ‘Here you go, Mr Tough Guy.’

  ‘I am a tough guy,’ Thorne muttered, but his voice broke a little.

  ‘I know.’ Gwyn stroked his cheek. Feelings or no feelings, this man was one of her two best friends. ‘Jamie’s right. We’ll take care of you. Let us.’

  He nodded, rubbing his palm over his eyes, then wiping it on the sheet. ‘I hate getting framed for murder.’

  She placed a kiss on his forehead. ‘We’ll figure it all out. I promise.’

  There was a knock on the door, and a few seconds later, Hyatt entered. ‘I have news,’ the lieutenant said. ‘We’ve identified the victim.’

  A few beats of silence passed. ‘And?’ Jamie prodded.

  Hyatt’s brows crunched. ‘Her name is Patricia Segal. Her husband is a judge.’

  Gwyn and Jamie looked at Thorne, who was staring up at the ceiling in silence. ‘He’s not going to talk to you, Lieutenant,’ Gwyn said. ‘On the advice of his attorney.’

  Hyatt moved further into the room and stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze intent on Thorne’s face. ‘Her maiden name was Linden.’

  Thorne’s body went stiff. As did Jamie’s. But Thorne’s gaze remained locked on the ceiling. Gwyn desperately wanted to scream, Who is she? But she held her tongue. Kept her expression neutral.

  Hyatt swore quietly. ‘Goddammit, Thorne. I can’t help you if you don’t help me.’

  Thorne lowered his gaze at last. ‘With all due respect, Lieutenant, I’ve heard that before. I’ll be invoking my right to remain silent.’

  Hyatt blew out a breath. ‘Fucking defense attorneys. But I figured you’d say that.’

  ‘Are you going to arrest my client?’ Jamie asked.

  Hyatt shook his head. ‘Not at this time. Please don’t leave town, Mr Thorne.’ He took a step back, then hesitated. ‘I’m going to put surveillance outside your house and anywhere you go.’

  Thorne frowned suspiciously. ‘Why are you telling me?’

  Hyatt’s jaw muscles twitched as he visibly ground his molars. ‘Because the woman’s husband is a judge. I have to do this textbook. But also for your protection.’

  Thorne scoffed. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. Really.’ He lowered his voice to a bare whisper. ‘Because Judge Segal claims the two of you were having an affair. Says he can prove it. And because somebody ripped that woman open stem to stern. All while you lay unconscious in the bed beside her. Whoever did that is capable of ruthless violence, and they seem to have a hard-on for you, Mr Thorne. You’ve done me a solid or two in the past. Consider this a debt paid.’

  Hyatt left the room, and for a long moment there was only silence.

  Then Thorne’s lips drew back into a snarl. ‘Fuck this. Not again. I’m not doing this again, Jamie. Not with them. Not with the Lindens.’

  Jamie dragged trembling palms down his face, but once he’d done so, he firmed his expression. ‘Yeah, you will. So will I. And we’ll beat this to hell, just like we did before.’ He lifted his brows. ‘Look on the bright side. I’m an even better lawyer now than I was then.’

  Thorne stared at him, then, unbelievably, he chuckled. ‘Yes, you are. I learned from the best.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’

  Gwyn’s patience was at its end. ‘Will one of you tell me what the fuck just happened here?’

  Thorne sighed. ‘Yes. But get Lucy in here too. I only want to tell this once.’

  ‘And Frederick,’ Jamie added. ‘He’s in the waiting room. As are Sam and Ruby and Clay and Stevie and Paige. They all want to help you.’

  Because Thorne had touched all their lives for the better. Just like he’s touched mine.

  Sam and Ruby had been a cop and an ME tech respectively. Now they were private investigators for Thorne’s practice. Sam sometimes provided personal security when clients needed it. Ruby was Thorne’s death investigator. Gwyn knew that the pair trusted Thorne with their lives, because Thorne had dropped everything to help them when they’d needed it most.

  It was the same for Clay, Stevie and Paige, who ran their own PI agency. Clay and Stevie were former cops and knew that the law didn’t protect everyone as it should. Stevie would be especially helpful as she’d worked for Lieutenant Hyatt for years. She’d be able to predict his actions and behaviors. Paige managed personal security for Clay’s firm, kind of like Sam did for Thorne. Between Sam and Paige, Thorne would be protected.

  Gwyn was suddenly, overwhelmingly, relieved. Thorne wasn’t alone in this. He had a . . . family. Maybe none of them related by blood, but they all cared about this man.

  Not as much as I do. Well, maybe Jamie and Phil, who considered Thorne their adopted son. But it wasn’t the sam
e. Gwyn wasn’t sure what she felt, but . . .

  It was way too big to go back in the box where it had been hiding for so long. The realization came with an abruptness that stole her breath.

  Thorne opened his mouth, then closed it on a snap. He nodded once. Then rubbed his hand over his eyes, drying it on the sheet once more.

  Gwyn took that hand in her own and squeezed it gently. ‘I think we’re going to need a bigger room.’

  Four

  Baltimore, Maryland,

  Sunday 12 June, 7.10 P.M.

  ‘Dammit, Gwyn, your house is made for Smurfs or something.’ Thorne’s grumble was not a new one. He said the same thing every time he came to Gwyn’s condo. But this time his voice was softer, his groan a little more authentic as he dropped his big body onto her low sofa. Built especially for short people. Because that was what she was.

  ‘It’s not forever,’ Gwyn snapped back, mostly because she was just so damn glad to see him out of that hospital bed. She pulled his feet from the floor to the sofa, putting a pillow behind his back. ‘Just until your house is released by the cops and we’re sure it’s clean.’

  Because he was afraid it had been bugged or wired for cameras by someone other than himself, and it was not a paranoid fear.

  Her front door opened and Lucy barged in, pocketing her key, and was followed by a . . . horde. A welcome horde, to be sure, but more people than Gwyn had ever had in her place all at the same time. The doctor had come into Thorne’s hospital room right after Hyatt’s departure and Thorne had signed himself out, against her orders. The doctor had wanted to admit him for observation, because even though the drugs had sufficiently worked their way out of his system, he’d had a very close call.

  But Thorne had wanted out of there and Gwyn couldn’t blame him. She always hated hospitals too. More importantly, he wanted to be in a private place when he told them what Gwyn was anticipating to be a very painful story.

  Lucy had a small duffel bag in one hand and Thorne’s bass in the other. She dropped the bag on the floor and put the bass in the corner. Of all Thorne’s things, the bass was the one possession he treasured, because it had belonged to his father. He kept it locked up in a special safe. Gwyn had only heard him play it once.