Tuesday, December 3, 8.05 P.M.
Joseph stood behind Daphne’s chair, his hands on her shoulders.
Brodie focused her attention on Daphne. ‘I wanted to know if you’d seen this before.’ She put the watch they’d found in Odum’s basement on the table in front of Daphne. Sealed in an evidence bag, the watch was stained with blood.
When Daphne flinched, Joseph had to control the urge to shake his old mentor.
‘Sit down, Joseph,’ Brodie said mildly, but with an undercurrent of sharp command. He took the chair next to Daphne and he could have sworn Brodie rolled her eyes before turning to Daphne, her expression gentling. ‘Have you seen it before?’
‘Yes,’ Daphne said faintly. ‘It’s Ford’s. His grandmother Elkhart gave it to him for his eighteenth birthday. It’s a tradition. Elkhart men wear Rolexes.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘He hates that thing.’
‘Why does he hate it?’ Brodie asked.
‘He doesn’t have the best relationship with his father’s family.’
‘Tell me, does Ford wear this watch often?’
Daphne was speaking of Ford in the present tense, Joseph noted. Common in these situations. But Brodie was too, and that wasn’t common. Guilt slid through his gut as he waited for Daphne’s reply.
He’d compounded his momentary lapse in front of the Timonium house by rushing off to do the right thing, to make it right. His intentions had been pure but his logic completely clouded. He drew a breath and let it out slowly. I fucked up. Big time.
Daphne was still frowning at the watch. ‘No, he rarely wears a watch at all and if he did it wouldn’t be that one. So why did he have it last night?’ She looked up at Joseph. ‘And why did whoever did this leave it behind? It’s worth fifteen thousand dollars. Why didn’t they take it?’
Damn good questions. I should have asked them myself. He met Brodie’s eyes, telegraphing his apology, saw it was accepted. ‘Tell her, Fiona,’ he murmured.
‘Tell me what?’ Daphne demanded.
‘Daphne, I found two types of blood in Odum’s basement. Neither matched the blood found in the alley where the abduction took place.’
Daphne gasped. ‘What? You mean that wasn’t Ford’s blood?’
‘Do you know his blood type?’ Brodie asked.
‘Yes, of course. O negative, like mine.’
‘Type O neg was what I found in the first alley, but I found Type B on the wall and Type A on the floor in Odum’s basement. There wasn’t enough B blood to have caused death. But there was plenty of Type A.’
Daphne closed her eyes. ‘Oh God. It’s not Ford.’ She pressed the heel of her hand between her breasts. ‘My head is spinning.’
Joseph picked up the evidence bag containing the Rolex. On the back of the watch ‘Elkhart’ was engraved in a spidery script. ‘What about this? Is it real?’
‘It’s real,’ Brodie said. ‘I imagine whoever did this planned to come back for it, Daphne. Especially given what else we found in that room.’
Daphne looked up at Joseph. ‘What?’
‘Guns,’ Joseph said. ‘The neighbors thought the Millhouses were moving drugs through that house, but it’s weapons. Crates of assault rifles, just like the ones we found in Bill Millhouse’s trunk this morning.’
‘They’re dealing?’
‘Either that or arming one hell of a militia,’ he said. ‘If they had a fifteen-thousand-dollar Rolex, they’d sell it and buy more guns.’
Daphne took the watch from his hand. ‘Why? Why go to all the trouble of making us think they’d killed Ford in Odum’s basement? Why the charade? They had to have known the first thing you’d do is test the blood. We’d know it wasn’t Ford’s.’
Dammit. Joseph wanted to kick his own ass, because she was right. I played right into their hands. He walked over to the white board and studied the text history from George’s phone. ‘George didn’t call you from the alley using Ford’s phone.’
‘We figured he couldn’t have. It must have been Doug,’ Daphne said.
‘When you read the text from Ford’s phone you felt hope, like this was a mistake.’
‘Yes. And when I realized it wasn’t Ford texting, I was devastated.’
‘And just now?’
‘Just now, I was devastated, and now I have hope.’ She sat back in her chair. ‘You’re saying that they’re playing with me?’
‘Yes,’ he said tightly. And I helped. ‘Doug has been seen at the Timonium house.’ And the black delivery van was there today. He turned to look at her. ‘He was there today. Setting all this up. Manipulating us.’ And then a puzzle piece dropped into place in his mind. ‘He wanted us to find that house, that “crime scene”, just like he wanted us to find that alley with the backpack.’
Daphne’s eyes narrowed. ‘He lured us to the alley with the text from Ford’s phone.’
‘Why else would he text you at that moment, from that place? He had to know we’d trace the location the text was sent from. He wanted us to find the plastic support plate with George’s fingerprints all over it.’
‘A tidy link,’ Brodie said, ‘from George to the knife to the murder of Zacharias and the abduction of Ford.’
Daphne’s brows knit. ‘But didn’t Doug think that George would mention him?’
‘I think he believed he’d taken care of that,’ Brodie said. ‘Joseph, what if that neighbor hadn’t seen this Doug person through the window with her binoculars? What would you be thinking right now?’
‘That George was lying,’ Joseph said. ‘And I’d be madder than hell that he sent me to that house to check for his baby, considering the booby trap he’d left behind.’
Daphne looked from him to Brodie. ‘What booby trap?’
‘The nursery door was rigged,’ Joseph said. ‘If I’d barged in like I’d wanted to . . .’
‘You’d be dead.’ Brodie turned to Daphne. ‘The shotgun blast took out a wall.’
Most of the color that had returned to her face drained away again. ‘Joseph, I’m . . . Oh, dear Lord. This is because of me. He’s taunting me. You could have been killed.’
‘Don’t even think it,’ he said harshly. ‘I was cautious and I’m not dead. But I would be thinking that George had lured me into a trap.’
‘We’d disregard everything George told us,’ Daphne said. ‘Including the existence of Doug. We’d have charged the Millhouses with the murder of Zacharias and the abduction of Ford.’ She’d grown more shaken as she spoke. ‘We never would have pursued Doug. We’d have kept following Millhouse leads to look for Ford, diverting us from where he really is. Oh my God.’
‘But we do know Doug really exists,’ Joseph soothed. ‘We won’t be diverted.’
‘You’re right,’ Daphne murmured, visibly regaining control of herself. ‘Doug has made this personal. I wonder if I’ve prosecuted him before.’
She’s one hell of an amazing woman, Joseph thought, admiring her ability to think under circumstances like these. ‘It’s a distinct possibility. A witness says he claimed to be twenty-nine. Maybe you can go through your files for anyone that you either convicted or dealt that would match his age and “ordinary” appearance. Hopefully I’ll have a photo for you in a few hours.’
‘I’ll start looking through my files right away. But first, since it wasn’t Ford’s blood, whose blood did you find, Dr Brodie?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve submitted samples for PCR analysis, so we’ll have DNA profiles by tomorrow. I also submitted a sample of the baby’s DNA, just so we’ll know paternity.’
‘How old was the crime scene in the basement?’
‘A few hours, maybe. The blood pooled on the floor had started to congeal around the edges. The blood on the wall had already dried, but it had been applied thinly.’
Daphne contemplated the watch. ‘My ex-husband has Type B negative blood. And he wears his Rolex every single day. I called him an hour ago to give him an update on Ford, but he didn’t answer. I didn’t think anything about it because
he rarely answers me right away. B negative is a fairly rare type. Was it B negative?’
‘Yes, it was, actually.’
‘We’ll get someone out to his house to check,’ Joseph said.
‘Maybe this is about Travis,’ she said. ‘He’s pissed off people in his career. If the Millhouses are a diversion, maybe whoever took Ford is trying to get back at Travis.’
Brodie tilted her head. ‘What does your ex-husband do?’
‘He’s a judge, district court in Loudoun County. You’re frowning, Joseph. Why?’
‘Because there was a message, written on the wall. “Now you know how it feels.”’
Daphne let out a breath. ‘What Cindy said to me. But she’s in jail. If this was done a few hours ago . . . We’re back to Doug. What about Kimberly? What blood type is she?’
‘I’m still waiting on her medical records,’ Brodie said, ‘but the blood I found in the alley near her car was O positive. It wasn’t her blood in the basement either.’
‘Do we know where Richard Odum is?’ Daphne asked. ‘Was he at the courthouse today? Maybe one of Bill Millhouse’s followers who got cold feet?’
‘I put a BOLO out on Odum when I was on my way up to Timonium, but we’ve got no hits yet,’ Joseph said.
‘Actually, we did,’ Brodie said. ‘While I was typing the blood in the Timonium basement, Bo heard from the other SWAT teams. Odum was found dead in one of the other houses he bought with Reggie’s defense fund. His throat was slit. The blood in the Timonium basement could be his, but I can’t be certain until I’ve run the tests.’
‘And his wife?’ Joseph asked.
‘Her body was found with his,’ Brodie replied.
Doug’s getting rid of loose ends, Joseph thought, but kept it to himself. At some point Ford would become a loose end too. They had to find him before that happened. And Joseph wanted to shift the topic before Daphne realized that fact.
‘My team’s going to be gathering downstairs for a debrief soon.’
Her gaze became challenging. ‘And I should stay here?’
‘You’re welcome to join us. I may not be the most enlightened man on the planet, but I can be taught.’
The challenge softened to gratitude. ‘Yes, I’d like to join you. Thank you.’
Brodie put the watch in her briefcase. ‘I’ll go break the not-such-bad news to SA Smith and his fiancée. I’ll meet you in the team room, Agent Carter.’
When they were alone neither of them said anything for a moment.
Joseph sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Daphne. I didn’t wait for all of the evidence. I just raced down here to tell you and I put you through hell.’
‘Why did you? Race down here to tell me, I mean.’
‘The media. One of the reporters saw me leave the house and guessed Ford was dead. Three of the stations had already broadcast the story of “rumors” that Ford was dead before I was even halfway down here. I didn’t want you to hear it that way.’
She was watching him, her expression suddenly inscrutable. ‘That addresses the urgency, I suppose,’ she said softly. ‘But you could have called me.’
‘Oh no I couldn’t,’ he blurted out, his face heating as her eyes widened. He backpedalled, trying to salvage his pride. ‘Daphne . . . you’re an amazingly strong woman. But even a strong woman shouldn’t hear news like that on the phone. It needed to be in person.’
‘Grayson was here.’
‘Dammit,’ he snapped. ‘I didn’t want it to be Grayson. I wanted it to be me.’
Her expression abruptly changed, swinging from inscrutable to wide open. In her eyes he saw a deep yearning that gave him the courage to say to hell with salvaging his pride and to give her the honesty she deserved.
‘I wanted it to be me because I’m a selfish bastard,’ he said quietly. ‘If you’d needed anyone after you were told, I wanted it to be me. I wanted you to need me.’
‘I did,’ she whispered. ‘And I will again before this is over.’
And then? ‘Whatever you need,’ he managed.
And then she stunned him by walking into his arms, once again sliding hers around his waist. ‘I need not to have to be strong. For just a little while. Please.’
His arms tightened around her. Finally. He was holding her, not because she was light-headed or ill. Because I’m me. She came to me. He ran his hands up and down her back, learning the feel of her. ‘For as long as you want.’
‘Joseph?’
He loved the way she said his name. ‘Yes?’
‘If you had gotten yourself killed today, I would have been very angry with you.’
He smiled against her hair. ‘I certainly don’t want to make you angry.’
‘I’m serious.’ She pulled back far enough to see his face. She was serious, her blue eyes dark with worry. ‘I want my son back. But I don’t want you killing yourself to make it happen. Please. Promise me.’
He swept his thumb over her lips. Just once. ‘I promise.’
‘Thank you.’ She continued looking up at him, searching his face for something he couldn’t guess. He only knew that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Soft and vulnerable. But underneath she was tempered steel.
And he knew that he needed her. Wanted her. He cupped her cheek in his palm, closing the distance between them. Watched her eyes slide closed as he covered her mouth with his. He spread his hand across her back to bring her a little closer. And let himself sink a little deeper.
It was a chaste kiss that rocked him to his core. And when he raised his head he knew that once would never be enough.
She opened her eyes and he saw no regret. Just quiet acceptance of what had just transpired between them. And trust. It was the trust that had his heart knocking out of his chest. She trusts me. Needs me.
‘Now what do we do?’ she whispered.
‘We find Doug and we follow him to Ford.’ And then . . . more. I need more of her.
Chapter Twelve
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Tuesday, December 3, 8.05 P.M.
‘I have to say I’m impressed,’ Alec said as they walked into Philly PD’s headquarters. ‘And, truthfully, relieved. You’re better connected than I thought.’
‘We shouldn’t get trouble from the locals,’ Clay murmured. ‘Novak’s another story.’
The Fed had been excessively annoyed to find Clay had ‘interfered’ with Gargano. Novak had curtly summoned him to Philly PD’s headquarters to ‘debrief’.
‘They say we’re six degrees of separation from everybody on the planet. I never really believed that until just now,’ Alec said, glancing nervously at the uniformed officers giving them hard stares as they walked up to the main desk.
Probably because I look like a drug dealer. Clay was dirty, unshaven, his pants still stained with Stevie’s blood. ‘You stay in this business long enough and everybody’s connected, kid. You just got a head start.’
Clay had reached out to an old friend to smooth his way with the Philly PD, but he was on his own with Novak and the local Feds. Carter wouldn’t be able to bail him out of any trouble Novak made for him. Carter was too busy containing the mess in Baltimore.
Which had become the most royal of cluster-fucks. Ford was dead. Daphne was shattered. I was too late.
‘’Scuse me.’ The man had just come out of the elevator and was walking toward them. He was no more than thirty, his sandy blond hair cut military short. ‘You the PI?’
Clay nodded to the man. ‘I’m Maynard,’ he said.
‘Detective Wiznewski. Come with me, please.’
‘This is Alec Vaughn, my associate. He stays with me, if you don’t mind.’
Wiznewski shrugged and hit the elevator button. ‘Whatever. I’m supposed to take you straight to the LT. How is it that you know Chick? Are you related? Because he’s got, like, a million brothers and sisters and cousins.’
‘He’s a friend of a friend. Ciccotelli’s sister is married to a Chicago homicide cop.’
‘Him, I
’ve met. Nice guy. Reagan, right?’
‘Right,’ Clay said. ‘Aidan Reagan. Aidan’s brother is also a homicide cop. My old partner and I worked with the brother on an abduction case in Chicago about six years ago.’ Which is how Clay had met Alec. We aren’t always too late. ‘My old partner decided to stay in Chicago and is tight with the locals there.’
The elevator doors opened and Wiznewski shepherded them in. ‘Why’d he stay?’
‘Ethan got married,’ Clay said. ‘He left my firm.’
‘The new wife made him quit?’ Wiznewski was clearly a man who liked his gossip.
‘Dana wouldn’t have done that,’ Alec inserted loyally, but the sideways glance he gave Clay was questioning, as if he’d wondered.
‘She didn’t make him quit,’ Clay said firmly. ‘Ethan wanted to settle down, have a family. Plus, his godson had moved to Chicago. He wanted to be close to the kid.’
Alec’s lips curved. He was the godson. ‘Because the kid was awesome.’
‘And very humble,’ Clay said dryly.
Thinking about those old days was a double-edged sword. He was happy for his old friend, because Ethan had definitely gotten his wish. Dana had just given birth to their third child. Between their kids and all the fosters they had running around, their house was pretty damn exciting. And pretty damn happy.
But Clay envied his old friend, too, because thinking about Ethan’s happy home made him wish for one of his own, which made him think of Stevie, as it always did.
The elevator doors opened. ‘Chick’s office is over here,’ Wiznewski said.
A man was leaning against the doorframe of a perimeter office, scrutinizing them as they approached. Tall and lean, his black hair was threaded with silver at the temples.
That would be Vito Ciccotelli, Clay thought. Alec stayed at his side, but his stance changed as they stopped in front of Ciccotelli. The kid stood tall, shoulders back just enough to be firm without appearing defiant.
He’s protecting me, Clay realized, incredibly touched.
‘Lieutenant Ciccotelli?’ Clay asked and the guy nodded.
‘You’re Maynard.’ He stuck out his hand and Clay shook it. ‘I’ve heard stories. I wish we weren’t meeting under these circumstances.’