A Beautiful Funeral: A Novel (Maddox Brothers Book 5) (9 page)

“But why wouldn’t they give you more information? Have they asked you any questions?” America asked.

“No,” Trenton said.

America approached Abby, whose entire body looked swollen, even her nose. “You don’t find this situation odd? Where’s Travis?”

Abby touched America’s arm, giving her an unspoken signal to be patient.

“It’s going to be okay, Mare,” Abby said. “He went to pick up Liis from the airport.”

“Liis is here? Why isn’t she with Thomas?” I asked.

Before Abby could answer, Jim hobbled in from the living room.

“Uncle Jim,” I said, hugging him.

He patted my back. “Just waiting to hear something.” When he pulled away, he looked weary and heartbroken, as if he already knew what was coming.

“Can I get you something, Dad?” Abby asked.

“Just getting some coffee,” Jim said.

“I’ll get it,” Camille said. “You should both be resting.” She meant Abby and Jim, but I felt like sitting down myself.

“She’s right. Put your feet up,” America said.

As America walked past me, leading Abby to the living room by the hand, I noticed the absence of the same fear and devastation that was weighing down the faces of everyone else in the room—everyone but Abby. Normally, she would be interrogating those agents until she got answers.

America nodded, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. I wondered what she knew that I didn’t. The boys screamed, and America rushed to the bottom of the stairs, looking up as she yelled, “Any blood?”

“No ma’am!” all three called back in unison.

Camille smiled and filled a glass with ice and water, handing it to Dad before escorting him back to his chair.

“This doesn’t look like coffee,” Dad said with a smirk.

“I know,” Camille said.

America and I joined everyone but Trenton in the living room. He was in the hall on the phone, trying to reach the twins in Colorado. America sat on the couch, and I settled in on the floor between her legs, trying not to groan when she began rubbing her thumbs in circles over my shoulders.

Trenton walked in, holding his phone in the air. “Twins got a flight for the morning. I’ll pick them up.”

“I’ll follow you in the van,” I said.

America’s fingers pressed into my sore muscles even further. “When do we find out more about Thomas?” she asked.

“Soon,” Abby said.

America shot her a look. Something was up, and my wife never appreciated being kept out of the loop. I thought that when Travis and Abby eloped, America would strangle them both. Apparently, they hadn’t learned their lesson.

The front door opened and closed, and Travis walked around the corner, loosening his tie. He’d gotten a job with Thomas’s advertising firm. It was based in California, and the story was that he was taking over for Thomas since he’d moved out to manage their East Coast office, but Travis somehow managed to stay in Eakins. None of it made much sense, but I hadn’t thought to question them until now. America and I had been busy with our own family. It’d been far too easy to overlook things.

I stood, hugging Travis. “You okay? Is that a fresh black eye?”

Travis grimaced. “I totaled the SUV.”

“Where’s Liis?” I asked.

“Her friend Val took her to get diapers and such,” he said, looking tired.

“Can someone answer the fucking question?” America blurted out. “Why is Liis here without her husband?”

“Mare,” Abby warned.

Camille brought Dad a steaming mug, and his eyes lit up for a few seconds.

“Decaf,” Camille said.

“Why are we here, Abby?” America demanded.

“To keep you safe,” she blurted out. “To keep us all safe.”

“From what?” I asked.

Travis shifted. “From whoever shot Thomas.”

I looked up at my wife. Her mouth hung open a bit, and she’d stopped rubbing my shoulders.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Trenton asked, reaching for Camille’s hand. She took it, looking just as stunned and worried as America did.

“It means …” Jim began, taking a deep breath. “The FBI are here, and they seem to think whatever happened to Thomas wasn’t an accident. Now … everyone, just calm down. You’re safe here. The kids are safe. When Taylor and Tyler get here, they’ll be safe too.”

“So that’s the plan?” Camille asked. “To hole up here like a safe house?”

“Do they really think someone is targeting our family?” Trenton asked. “Why?”

Travis seemed irritated with each question. “It’s possible.”

“The whole family?” Trenton asked.

“Possibly,” Travis responded.

“Olive,” Trenton said, running down the hall and out the door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LIIS

24 HOURS EARLIER …

I
SAT IN A SEEDY HOTEL ROOM
, judging the peeling white paint and outdated furniture. I’d stayed in a lot of shithole places during my time with the FBI but never with a newborn. I’d been holding her since we’d arrived, too nervous to set her down before scouring the room with a black light.

After a short knock, Agent Hyde cracked open the door. “It’s me.”

“Come in,” I said, half relieved, half annoyed. She’d come empty-handed when I’d specifically asked for clean sheets, pillows, blankets—not from the motel—rags, and Lysol—and a lot of it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hyde said. Her dishwater blond hair was pulled back and secured at the nape of her neck. She was Quantico’s top female agent after me. I was glad she was there, but she wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. I wanted to be tough, buttoned-down, and unfazed, too, but it was hard to keep up that persona with my nursing bra unsnapped and smelling of baby vomit.

“You don’t have a clue what I’m thinking,” I said.

“It’s all on its way.”

Maybe she does.
“It’d better be. He knows I hate D.C., and this motel is atrocious.”

“Talking about taking one for the team.” When Hyde saw my expression, she swallowed. “Sorry, Agent Lindy. Bad joke. But after what happened to Salvatore Cattone in the nineties, the mob isn’t going to come anywhere near D.C. This is the safest place for you.”

“A bacteria breeding semen storage facility?” I asked. Hyde wasn’t fazed, and she didn’t respond. I looked up and sighed. “How is he?”

She only offered one word. “Sore.”

I looked down, angry that my hormone levels were changing too dramatically to control. Tears streamed down the bridge of my nose, dripping from the tip onto Stella’s pink and brown polka-dotted footie pajamas. Just a few days before, the crying had been foreign to me. Now, it was all I could seem to do.

The Bureau had just fifteen minutes’ warning that the Carlisis had split up and were closing in. They had traveled with the intention of assassinating Thomas and Travis. One small group had been traced to Quantico, the other to California. Travis’s hitmen had bad intel, something that had been planted and circulated back in his undercover days when he was just an ad exec to the rest of the world, but it was only a matter of time until they tracked him to Illinois.

Fifteen minutes to form the plan that Thomas would risk being assassinated in our front lawn. Snipers were in place when the car came screeching down the road. As they sprayed the front of our house with bullets, one sniper blew the back of the rented Nissan Altima’s tire, and another targeted Thomas’s vest. My husband went down, and he stayed there until the ambulance arrived. The Nissan sped away, caught after a twenty-minute car chase. The agents in pursuit finally tackled them after they’d fled on foot. Vito Carlisi pulled a gun, and he was shot and killed. The others were arrested. Thomas couldn’t have executed a more perfect plan.

I could still feel his lips on mine from just before he walked out the front door. I’d kissed him goodbye, not knowing if it was real or not, or for how long. Possibly forever. But Benny was dead, and we’d finally cornered one of his men to testify against the remaining Carlisis: a washed-up Vegas gambler who was now shaking down small-time strip clubs for Benny, who happened to be Abby Maddox’s estranged father. Mick Abernathy was now in custody. Abby had handed over a six-inch stack of intel on her own father, giving him no choice but to testify against the remaining Carlisis. We knew they wouldn’t stop without blood. It was our hope that Benny’s men would believe Thomas’s death would serve as a warning and keep Travis or me from testifying.

I could have planned a lifetime and still never prepared myself to see the father of my child gunned down in our front lawn. That moment was when the tears began to fall, and they hadn’t stopped.

After a specific knock on the door, Hyde did a quick check, sidearm ready, and then let in another agent in plain clothes, holding large plastic bags. “Afternoon, Agent Hawkins.”

He nodded to Hyde and then me. “Agent Maddox.”

“Lindy,” Hyde corrected him. “She’s still Lindy.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, stuttering over his words. “I thought …”

I could only shake my head, feeling tears pool in my eyes again. It made me angrier each time. Where was that phenomenon people always talked about? Being
cried out
?

Thomas had proposed to me several times, but that wasn’t in the plans, and I always stuck to the plan. The day Stella came into the world, plans changed, and I decided it might not be so bad after all. The next time I saw Thomas again, he’d promised to propose. No airplanes writing in the sky, no flowers, no Eiffel Tower or any other theatrics, but we had a new plan. I just had to make sure I would see him again.

Agent Hawkins laid out a thin blanket and began unpacking the plastic bags. “The queen size sheets and comforter you requested. The crib sheets, pillow, rags, and Lysol. The sheets have all been laundered. The crib sheets with the detergent you requested.”

“Thank you,” I said, watching as he excused himself.

Hyde was already wiping down the crib as I turned to place Stella on the thin blanket. I unfolded her crib sheet and smelled it to confirm it had been laundered in mild baby soap. I breathed in deep, remembering how much Thomas loved this smell as we readied the nursery. A nursery we weren’t using.

I made Stella’s bed and then picked her off the thin blanket to place her tiny body in the center of the crib. She flailed and cried while I changed her diaper and then settled down as I dabbed her shrinking umbilical cord with alcohol and buttoned her PJs back up from ankle to chest. I placed a pacifier in her mouth, and she suckled on it until she stilled and fell asleep. She looked so small in that filthy motel-issued crib. She had a brand-new, breathtaking nursery at home, and she’d barely seen it. She didn’t deserve this germ-infested room.

My throat tightened, and the tears flowed again.

Hyde held out a tissue, her expression emotionless.

“You must think I’m nuts,” I said, wiping my eyes.

“No. My sister’s had kids. It doesn’t last forever.”

“I didn’t know you were an aunt. Nieces or nephews?”

“Both,” Hyde said. She was trying to hide a smile. “Hunter is five. Liz is three. Noah is eight months.”

“Wow,” I said, breathing out a laugh.

Agent Hyde’s expression softened. “You’ve been through a lot, Lindy. Cut yourself some slack.”

I thought about her words, and she was right. I would never be so harsh to anyone else in my situation. I nodded, wiping the tip of my nose. “Thank you. I will.” I cleared my throat, trying my best to think and feel like the agent I once was. “Any new information on Maddox?”

“He’s alive,” she said.

I swallowed down an urge to cry. “And the Carlisis?”

“In custody. One dead.”

“Which one?” I asked.

“Vito,” Hyde reported.

I rubbed the tension from my neck. The stress and the baby were taking a toll, and I could barely keep my eyes open. “Benny’s favorite. That’s going to hit them all hard.”

“Don’t discount Giada. She’s unstable.”

Hyde was right. The Carlisi’s matriarch could be considered even more dangerous than Benny was. She stayed in the background, but she had ordered many of the hits, via whisperings in her husband’s ear. “It will either break her or resolve her to finish this.” I nodded, reaching for my phone.

“Agent Lindy,” Hyde said, taking a step forward. When I froze, she continued. “I can contact the director if you’d like to notify him of Giada.”

“Oh, right,” I said, setting down my phone. The Carlisis thought I was a grieving widow. If there was a trace or mole or any other intel being given to the Carlisis—which we could only assume since they’d known Thomas’s exact location, and later found out Travis’s—I had to be careful. Only a small handful of people knew that Thomas was alive. It made sense to have protection and to be moved from our home to a safe location, but if I was making calls to the director about anything other than my anger over what had happened to Thomas, it could tip them off.

“We need to find who or what they’re using for the info,” I said.

“We’re on it.”

“Do we have a lead?”

“Agent Lindy, the baby is sleeping. My sister always naps when the baby is sleeping. It’s about the only time she—”

“Okay,” I said. “You’re right.”

Hyde seemed surprised at my response but quickly recovered, stripping the bed and remaking it with the clean sheets, pillow, and blanket in the time it took me to take a shower. I plodded to the bed in house shoes, unwilling for my bare feet to touch the crusty carpet.

I lay down, smelling the slightest hint of lavender. Hyde noticed me looking around and sniffing.

Hyde shifted her weight, and her face flushed. She was noticeably uncomfortable with my unasked question. “I asked Hawkins to track down a couple of air freshener plug-ins. Your home smells a little like lavender, so I thought it’d make you feel more at ease. Just a couple. If it’s too much for the baby …”

“No,” I said with an appreciative smile. “No, that was very thoughtful of you.”

“It was Agent Taber who suggested them.”

“Val,” I said with a smile, but then my eyes began leaking again.

“She’ll be on the first flight. She insisted on accompanying you to Illinois.”

“Thank you,” I said, already feeling desperate to see my closest friend.