Kill Without Shame

  He pressed them into Mia’s hand. “Here, you start with these.”

  For once, Mia didn’t argue. She quickly began to scan the short notes that were written in awkward block letters, placing the ones she’d read on the table before moving to the next in the stack.

  “He loved her so much,” she murmured on a soft sigh.

  Lucas began to sort through the remaining pieces of paper in the case.

  “I doubt my parents have ever written a letter to one another,” he admitted.

  Mia lifted her head, studying him with a searching gaze. “Their marriage isn’t a love match?”

  He released a short burst of laughter. He’d never seen his parents hold hands, let alone kiss. If it wasn’t for the fact that they’d managed to have two sons, he would have assumed they’d never bothered to climb into the same bed.

  “More like an uneasy truce to combine two powerful families,” he admitted with a wry grimace. “I’m not sure if my mother is capable of loving anyone.”

  Pity softened her features. “And your father?”

  “He loves himself,” Lucas said, returning his attention to the stacks of paper still in the case.

  He worked hard at not thinking about the Honorable St. Clair and his insatiable ambition that’d driven Lucas’s older brother to suicide. No doubt a psychologist would have a field day with him.

  But, hey . . . pretending his father didn’t exist worked for him.

  Skimming through a dozen letters, Lucas was reaching for more when he caught sight of the compartment built into the inner side of the lid. Curious, he reached inside to pull out a large manila folder.

  “Was this in there before?” he asked.

  Mia gave a slow shake of her head. “I don’t remember it.”

  Flipping open the folder, Lucas stiffened in shock at the sight of the grainy photos stacked inside.

  The first few were exact duplicates of the ones that Vicky had shown them. Clear proof that the older woman hadn’t lied about where she’d gotten them. And a surprising revelation that Mia’s father was smart enough to keep copies.

  As he flipped through them, however, he realized that there were more than just the ones Vicky had shared with them.

  “Shit,” he breathed.

  Mia dropped the letters, holding her hand out. “What is it?”

  He offered her the folder. “Look.”

  In silence she studied the pictures, her eyes widening as she reached the last few.

  “Oh my God.” She held up a picture that revealed a large, dark-haired man standing over a body that was crumpled on the ground. “That’s Tony with a gun. He really did kill Paul.”

  “It looks bad,” Lucas agreed.

  Mia studied the fuzzy image. “I assume that’s Paul Fontaine on the ground.”

  Lucas nodded, wishing the picture was clear enough to reveal the background. All he could determine was that there was a large brick structure that might be a house. He hoped Max would be able to magnify it enough to give them a clue where the picture was taken.

  “That’s my guess,” he murmured.

  Mia shuffled to the next photo, her breath hissing between her teeth.

  This one revealed Tony still holding the gun, but there was a blond-haired woman bending over the dead man on the ground, as if studying the bleeding hole in the center of his chest.

  “Vicky,” Mia breathed.

  “Yes.”

  Mia shivered. “She was there.”

  “She was an accomplice, if not the actual killer,” Lucas agreed, reaching out to tap the pictures. “And now we have proof.”

  Mia nodded before she was fanning the pictures out on the table, her expression brittle as she studied each of them in the light from Lucas’s phone.

  “There’s none of my father,” she at last said, her relief a tangible force in the thick air.

  “No.”

  Lucas stood at her side, trying to imagine the distance and angle of the photographer from Tony and Vicky. If someone wanted to take decent pictures of the horrifying scene, they would have stood considerably closer. And they would have chosen to stand on the other side of the body so the sun didn’t create a glare. Most importantly, they wouldn’t have allowed thin branches of some sort of bush to create strange crisscross patterns in several of the photos.

  Which told Lucas that whoever took the pictures was hiding in a bush and shooting the scene without Tony or Vicky being aware he was there.

  “Is it possible my father wasn’t even there?”

  Lucas reached his hand back into the compartment in the lid of the briefcase, searching for any other hidden treasures.

  “Actually, I would guess that he was the one taking the pictures,” he told Mia.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Why would he do that?”

  Not about to suggest that the older man might have stumbled across the scene and hoped to blackmail his wealthy employer, Lucas abruptly pulled his hand out of the briefcase and held up the small cassette tape he’d found at the very bottom of the compartment.

  “This might tell us,” he said, a sense of triumph flaring through him.

  There was no guarantee that there were answers on the cassette, but he had a good feeling. Why else would it have been hidden with the pictures?

  “A tape?” Mia asked in confusion.

  “It looks like it’s from one of those mini cassette recorders,” Lucas said.

  Mia confirmed Lucas’s suspicion the tape belonged to George Ramon. “My father used to have one. He said it was easier to make notes by recording them instead of having to write them out. There might be one inside the house.”

  Lucas battled against his urge to rush into the house and play the cassette. If it was connected to the murder, it was seventeen years old.

  Not only would the tape be fragile after all that time, but the heat and humidity of Louisiana might have warped the plastic. They would have to take extreme care not to destroy the thing before they could ever discover what was on it.

  “We should get this to Max,” he forced himself to mutter. “He’ll be able to take it to his lab in Houston.”

  Mia frowned. “Why Houston?”

  “He has equipment there that can play the cassette without the risk of doing something that might damage it,” Lucas said, not bothering to tell her that she was going to Houston at the same time. She would find out soon enough. “Once we have a copy of the tape, we’re handing over everything we have to the cops.”

  Mia gave a reluctant nod, gathering the pictures and putting them back in the case. Lucas dropped the tape inside and closed the lid, hearing a distinct click as the locks tumbled into place.

  The incriminating evidence was no doubt the reason Vicky had been trying to get rid of Mia. She had to know that Mia would eventually go through her father’s belongings and find it.

  Now that they had what they’d come for, he was anxious to get the hell out of there. The sooner they could hand over the case to the cops, the sooner he could be certain Mia was no longer in danger.

  Grabbing the handle of the case, Lucas was reaching for Mia’s hand when there was the sound of footsteps just outside the shed. With a swift motion, Lucas was pulling his gun and shoving Mia behind him.

  Prepared to shoot whoever stepped through the narrow entrance, Lucas was caught off guard when the door suddenly slammed shut.

  He frowned. Had he imagined the footsteps? Could it just have been the wind?

  Motioning for Mia to stay where she was, Lucas cautiously moved forward, his gun still in his hand when he reached out the other one to grab the knob.

  It turned easily in his hand, but when he tried to shove the door open, it wouldn’t budge. Shit. Something was blocking their one and only way out of the shed.

  * * *

  Max was sitting in Lucas’s sports car just outside the gates of Vicky Fontaine’s estate.

  He’d fully intended to remain in the driveway after Lucas had driven away, but the gardener h
ad approached just a few minutes later to inform him that Vicky was threatening to call the cops if he didn’t leave.

  He didn’t have the authority to stay. And the last thing he wanted was to find himself hauled down to the Shreveport police station. Not when Lucas might need him.

  Thirty minutes later, he was nearly crawling out of his skin.

  He was usually a man who understood patience.

  His approach to life was exactly like his approach to science. Slow, methodical, and always striving for perfection.

  But he couldn’t escape the strange premonition that Lucas was in trouble.

  Slipping out of the car, he avoided the cameras that monitored the gate and strolled along the quiet street. He shivered as the icy drizzle dampened his hair and the breeze tugged at his coat, but he kept his pace casual as he headed around the hedge that separated the large estate from the neighbor.

  He’d noticed a gap in the bushes when he was doing his earlier search.

  Picking up his speed, he was careful to remain in the shadows as he moved along the hedges and darted through the narrow gap. Once through, he came to a halt as his phone vibrated.

  He pulled it from his pocket, hoping it was Lucas. Instead Teagan’s name flashed across the screen. He hesitated before connecting the call and lifting the phone to his ear.

  Teagan wouldn’t contact him if it wasn’t important.

  “Hey, bro,” Max murmured, his voice pitched low as his gaze remained locked on the large Tudor house. The lights were beginning to be turned on in various rooms, but he couldn’t see into the windows from his position.

  He needed to get closer.

  “Are you with Lucas?” Teagan demanded with his usual blunt style.

  “Nope.” Remaining close to the hedges in case he needed to make a quick exit, Max headed toward the side of the house. “He took Mia to find some old letters at her father’s property. What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to him, but he isn’t answering his phone.”

  Max’s unease intensified. “How long have you been trying?”

  “Not long,” Teagan admitted. “Five minutes or so.”

  Max clenched his fingers on the phone. He wasn’t going to overreact, dammit. There were a dozen reasons why Lucas wasn’t answering.

  “It’s a remote area,” he told Teagan, choosing the most obvious explanation. “The reception is probably sketchy.”

  “Maybe.” Teagan’s concern hummed in his voice. “I think you should check it out.”

  “Yeah, so do I,” Max muttered, angling toward the long bank of windows that lined the north wall of the house. Before he took off he wanted to make sure that Vicky was occupied with whatever kept rich old ladies busy on chilly evenings. “As soon as I see what’s going on with the Wicked Witch.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m supposed to be keeping a watch on Vicky Fontaine,” Max said, his thoughts distracted as he stepped onto one of the stone urns that were handily placed at each corner of the home. They offered a perfect position to peer through the windows.

  Of course, if one of the servants happened to catch sight of him, he’d no doubt be arrested as a creeper.

  “Why?” Teagan demanded.

  “It’s a long story.” Max frowned, scanning the large library for some sign of life. Nothing. “Did you find out something you want me to pass along to Lucas?”

  “It’s possible,” Teagan hedged.

  Max jumped off the urn and headed toward the back of the house. “Tell me.”

  “I came up with a dead end on Paul Fontaine,” Teagan said.

  Max grimaced, recalling Lucas’s revelation that Paul Fontaine had been murdered and stuffed in a trunk.

  “Probably because he quite literally is a dead end.”

  There was a startled pause as Teagan absorbed the news that Fontaine was dead. “No shit?” he at last said.

  “Lucas saw the pictures.”

  “Pictures?” Teagan made a sound of disbelief. “What the hell happened?”

  Max eased his way along the back of the house, trying to stay out of the line of sight of the long greenhouse where he could see the silhouette of the gardener.

  “Tony, as well as George Ramon, was implicated, but we’re still working on the truth,” he said.

  “Tony Hughes? The dead guy?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Max reached the windows that looked into the kitchen. The housekeeper was busy preparing dinner. That meant Vicky had no intention of going out. At least not for a while.

  A portion of his sizzling tension eased, although he couldn’t dismiss the lingering knot of anxiety in the pit of his gut.

  “Hmm,” Teagan breathed.

  Max stepped beneath a brick arbor that led to the rose garden to finish his conversation with Teagan. He was out of sight of the kitchen windows, and yet close enough to keep an eye on the garage in case Vicky decided to go for an unexpected trip. It also had the benefit of giving him a brief respite from the pesky rain.

  “What’s on your mind?” he demanded, knowing Teagan well enough to sense when something was bothering him.

  “Just trying to put this puzzle together,” the computer guru said.

  “You and me both, bro,” Max said, shaking his head in frustration. Teagan was right. It was like a puzzle where they had a few of the pieces, but nothing fit together. “So what did you discover?”

  “Since you and Lucas are searching for any enemies who might want Mia dead, I decided to start from the other end.”

  Max frowned. “What’s that mean?”

  “I wanted to see who would gain from Mia’s death.”

  Max grimaced. He knew it was an important question. Hell, he’d urged Lucas to find out if anyone benefited after she was rushed to the hospital. But it didn’t make it any easier to think of someone deliberately plotting her murder.

  He’d known the young, vulnerable woman only a short time, but she was already a part of the ARES family, as far as he was concerned.

  “She has a will?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “And?”

  “She carries a large amount of debt on her business and her home,” Teagan revealed. “If she died, most of her property would become the property of the loan company.”

  Max shivered as a strong gust of wind whipped through the arbor. “You mean Lucas,” he said, referring to the dummy company that their friend had set up to ensure Mia could get the funds she needed for her expansion.

  “Exactly.”

  “So that rules out money as a motive.”

  “Not entirely.”

  Max frowned. There was no way Teagan was implying that Lucas would want Mia harmed. Which meant there must be some collateral that wasn’t a part of her business. “Does she have a life insurance policy?”

  “Nope. But she did inherit her father’s land,” Teagan said.

  Max didn’t often question his friend. Teagan was a research god. But it seemed hard to believe anyone would be willing to risk killing Mia for a patch of swampland overrun with rusty cars and rotting sheds.

  “According to Lucas it’s not worth much,” he told Teagan. “Unless there’s a hidden treasure beneath all the junk.”

  “I don’t know about any treasures, but if something happens to Mia the land goes to a local charity,” Teagan retorted.

  “Not surprising,” he murmured. “I don’t think she has any close family. What do you know about the charity?”

  “It’s for wildlife conservation.”

  Max’s lips twitched. It was doubtful any other charity would be interested in the land.

  “That makes sense, but I don’t understand why you think this has anything to do with someone trying to hurt Mia.”

  “Three weeks ago the charity received a large influx of cash. In gratitude the board of directors chose a new chairman.” There was a long pause. “Or in this case, a new chairwoman.”

  Distracted by the
sound of the greenhouse door being opened and shut, Max leaned to the side, watching as the gardener walked toward the side of the main house. Clearly he was done for the day.

  Max wished he could say the same.

  Dark was closing in and it was damned cold.

  “Lucas is right,” he muttered. “You are a drama queen.”

  “Hey,” Teagan protested. “At least make me a king.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “What does the damned charity have to do with Mia?”

  “The new chairwoman is Vicky Fontaine.”

  Max stiffened. “Why the hell would she be interested in wildlife conservation?”

  “My guess is that there’s something on that land she wants,” Teagan said. “Desperately.”

  “Dammit, what are we missing?” Max growled. “First she tried to hound Mia into selling the property, and now she’s elbowed her way into control of the charity that will gain ownership of the land if Mia dies.”

  “I don’t know what she wants,” Teagan admitted, “but I don’t like the thought that Lucas is out there without backup.”

  The nagging unease abruptly exploded into outright fear. Still clutching the phone to his ear, he darted out of the arbor and headed toward the side of the house.

  He’d agreed to keep an eye on Vicky Fontaine because Lucas asked him, but he hadn’t actually thought she personally was a danger. He assumed she had an accomplice. He’d been prepared for her to call for her partner in crime to come over so they could plot their next move. Or for her to try and slip away so she could meet her accomplice in some secret location.

  Now he realized he’d failed Surveillance 101. Never assume a damned thing.

  Sprinting around the corner of the house, he muttered a string of curses as he discovered the black SUV was missing.

  “What’s wrong?” Teagan demanded.

  “That bitch managed to slip past me.”

  “How?”

  “There must be a side exit,” Max growled, not bothering to take the time to discover how Vicky had left the estate unnoticed.

  Instead he jogged down the driveway and out the front gate. He didn’t give a shit if he was caught on the security cameras. All that mattered was getting to Lucas and making sure he was okay.

  As if reading his tension, Teagan muttered a curse. “I don’t like this, amigo.”