Asking for Trouble (24 page)

“Our discussion today will be taken into account. We'll verify this information and be in touch. To use a cliché, don't leave town, Miss Tremayne, but for now, you're free to go.”

Morgan couldn't seem to move. Couldn't seem to think. “I can go?” she whispered, not quite comprehending that the nightmare she anticipated would take over the rest of her life had come to an end.

“Come on, honey.” Jackson took her arm. “Let me drive you to the hospital.”

“One question.” Agent Dyson spoke for the first time since the interview began, and Morgan jumped at the sound of his voice. She'd forgotten he was there. “Miss Tremayne?”

“Yes?” She tried to meet Gage's gaze, wanted to, but couldn't bear to see the betrayal in them, not if this was going to be the last time she saw him. Instead she focused on Agent Dyson.

“What was his name? The boy in Texas?”

Fresh tears erupted, and for the first time in months she didn't try to stop them. They splashed onto her cheeks, unheeded, unchecked.

“Colin,” she whispered and felt her father stiffen beside her. “His name is Colin.”

***

Had Gage been in a celebratory mood, he might have suggested popping the champagne cork with his team. Instead they reassembled in Evan's office along with Agents Dyson and Kolfax.

“You don't honestly believe that bullshit about the amended bylaws,” Kolfax blustered at Evan, who looked as if he'd just won the World Series.

“No reason not to.” Evan grabbed bottles of beer out of his mini-fridge and passed them around. “Jackson Tremayne isn't someone I want to call a liar. He says it was done, it was done. I won't argue.”

“Yes, I can see where you wouldn't want to challenge one of your main campaign contributors,” Kolfax chided. “He's not the saint everyone paints him to be. And neither is the rest of his family.”

Dyson twisted the cap off his beer and sat on the edge of the window ledge, acting as if he hadn't heard a word Kolfax said. “Nice that you were able to clear your girlfriend of any wrongdoing, for the most part,” he added as he toasted Gage. “That still doesn't tell us where the money came from, aside from Nemesis, that is.”

“No.” Rojas glanced at the text message that just came through. “But Bouncer might be able to.”

“What's a Bouncer?” Dyson asked.

“Officer Thorne,” Gage clarified. “She, well, she has this odd penchant for bouncing off cars.”

“She's also requesting our presence in the conference room downstairs. All of us.” Peyton sneered at Kolfax. “Even you.”

Had Bouncer not already earned her nickname, Gage might have given it to her seeing as she was hopping around the conference room like a rabbit with ADD. “Thanks, Janice.” She snatched a file from the older woman's hand and shifted the chairs around as they filed in.

“You called?” Gage asked, handing her a beer. She took it, looked at the clock. “Something tells me you earned it.”

“Oh, I earned it.” The smile that split her face was contagious. “I got him,” she whispered.

“Him who? Nemesis?”

Her smile dimmed. “No. Sorry, no, not Nemesis, but I know where the marked money came from.”

“Officer Bouncer, I presume.” Dyson stepped forward. “We weren't introduced at the precinct. Nick Dyson.”

“Hi.” Bouncer shook his hand before spinning around to Gage. “It was right there the whole time. The statements Rojas got this afternoon were the last bits we needed.”

Once everyone was seated around the table, Bouncer handed them each a file folder. “Pages one through four. Copies of the initial reports filed by four of Nemesis' victims: Swendon, Baker, Goodwin, and Cunningham. In each of those statements there's no mention of any missing cash. But after we examined the crime scene photos more closely, we figured that had to be wrong. Which begs the question, why wouldn't they have reported it?”

“Because someone told them not to,” Peyton said.

“Right.” Bouncer hobbled toward the other end of the table. “And there was money. Pages five through nine. Statements Rojas got this morning from each victim claiming that yes, a significant amount of cash was stolen, but they were instructed by their attorney, James Van Keltin, not to include it in the list of stolen items. Which means we can assume—”

“Because assumptions always lead to convictions,” Kolfax said.

“Maybe not convictions, but they can lead to evidence. Evidence you had at your disposal if you'd gone back far enough. Or bothered to look beyond your prejudices,” Bouncer snapped before ignoring him again. “Time-line wise, James Van Keltin was the third victim, but he was the most recent victim when it comes to when the missing sting money started showing up. Nemesis steals the money from him, gets it out to people he thinks needs it.”

“Including Morgan,” Gage said.

“Right. Which is when it pops in the system and sends up flares for this guy.” She jerked a finger at Kolfax. “Except Lantano Valley should have already been on your list even without the money.”

“How so?” Dyson asked as Kolfax's face turned bright pink.

“Well, I got to thinking about some of the questions Gage asked Morgan. Had she been to Miami in the last five years? Had she ever heard of the Benetiz Cartel.”

“Which she hasn't,” Evan reminded her.

“But Van Keltin has. Page seven. He bought a house in Miami twenty years ago. The purchase was made under his wife's name, but he co-signed the mortgage.”

“No way,” Peyton breathed.

“While I couldn't get a hold of his travel records yet,” Bouncer continued, “I did check his license to practice law, which he holds in California, New York, and, wait for it . . .”

“Florida,” Rojas whooped.

“You've got more, don't you?” Dyson said as he flipped to the next page.

“Uh-huh. At the time Van Keltin bought his house and got his license, he was an up-and-coming defense attorney who took on high-profile cases pro bono. So I typed his name into the judicial records in Florida and downloaded a list of all the cases he defended. I highlighted the name I thought might interest the FBI.” She clasped her hands behind her back, swayed on one leg until she almost tipped over.

“Son of a bitch,” Dyson said. “Claudio Benetiz.”

“Who was at the time moving up in the cartel before becoming the number two guy your investigation targeted last year. Van Keltin defended him three times in four years, each time on drug charges. Charges dismissed on two, another was dropped when the evidence disappeared out of the evidence locker.”

“And then Van Keltin moved to Lantano Valley,” Gage noted.

“To take over his father's practice on the west coast,” Bouncer confirmed. “If the FBI had gone back another ten years, they'd have found the connection between Van Keltin and Benetiz.”

“That still doesn't tie Van Keltin to the money,” Kolfax noted, but even Gage had to admit the guy looked impressed. Or maybe sick.

“Well, I don't have the proof yet, but I did have a nice phone conversation with one of his maids a few minutes ago, after which I texted Rojas. I think if you look into Van Keltin's travel itinerary for the last two years, you'll find he's traveled to Miami at least three times. One of which the maid is sure was the week of February seventeenth because it was her daughter's birthday and she was still expected to work. I'd bet he brought the money back with him to keep it as far from Benetiz as possible until they knew they were clear to use it.”

“She got him.” Dyson stared at the file, to Bouncer, over to Evan and Gage. “She fucking got him.”

Gage grinned. He knew he hadn't been wrong about letting Bouncer spread her wings on the task force. Given the evidence Bouncer uncovered, turning Van Keltin against his client was the one thing that would save the lawyer from a lifetime jail sentence.

“It's not concrete yet—” Bouncer insisted.

“It doesn't have to be for a warrant.” Dyson waved the file in the air. “I'm keeping this and submitting it as part of my report. If that's okay with you?” he asked Gage and Evan.

“You give credit where it's due, fine with me,” Gage told him.

“Kolfax, I hear you're the one who riled the press into a frenzy outside, let it leak that Morgan Tremayne had been brought in for questioning for her connection to a drug cartel?” Kolfax's mouth twisted, but he remained silent.

“Then I guess you won't mind if I take that over for you,” Dyson continued. “Evan, if you would please join me? Gage, you and your team as well, especially Bouncer—”

“Hallie,” she corrected as her cheeks tinted pink.

“Hallie,” he acknowledged as he led them out of the conference room to the elevator. “You ever think of working for the FBI, Hallie?”

The group went silent, save for Kolfax, who sounded as if he might be suffering an asthma attack. Gage wouldn't be surprised if Dyson had him in front of a review board the second they returned to the home office. Kolfax may have finally gone too far.

A mix of excitement and pride shot across Bouncer's face before she smiled and shook her head. “Appreciate the thought, sir, but I'm happy right where I am. If they let me stay.”

“I'd say the odds are pretty good,” Evan said as the elevator doors opened.

“I'll catch up,” Gage told them as they crowded in, and instead of joining them, Gage headed into his office. “Thanks for all your help the last few weeks,” he told Janice, who was gathering up her belongings to head out. “I know we didn't make it easy on you.”

“You did good work, Gage.” But the sad smile on her face told the story of his day. “I hope somehow you can make it work with Morgan.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, unable to respond. “Good night, Janice.”

He closed his office door, took a seat behind his desk, and listened to the media circus roar across the street.

Morgan bent at the waist, her lips pressed so tightly together she couldn't feel them. Air moved in and out of her constricted lungs. Her eyes burned. Her ears thundered. She rocked, stemming the flood of agony that accompanied Brandon's diagnosis. It was what Morgan had feared: an embolism.

The silent, unpredictable side effect of intensive chemotherapy had struck without warning or remorse.

How was it that, standing amidst the family she'd created, surrounded by her father and Angela, Nico, Drew, and Gina, Morgan felt utterly and completely alone?

Part of her was missing. No, not missing. Carved out, hollowed. Gone.

“How long?” Angela's voice broke. “How long do we have with him?”

“That's up to you,” the doctor said in that I'm-so–sorry-but-I-really-have-no-hope-for-you tone Morgan hated beyond reason. “Brandon's as comfortable as we can make him, so now the decision is in your hands.”

Decision. The decision.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Nico wrapped an arm around Angela's shoulders and drew her over to the waiting area that consisted of two laughingly conceived of sofas and a coffee table that looked as if it had been time-warped in from the not-so-fashionable seventies.

“We'll, um, we'll sit with him for a while,” Gina said, blinking back tears. She clutched Morgan's arm, but Morgan couldn't stop staring at the floor. If she moved, she'd shatter. If she breathed, she'd shatter. If she did nothing—

Jackson drew her to him, wrapped his arms around her until she couldn't help but clutch at him. “I never knew,” she whispered as he shushed and hushed her sobs that grew painful as she tried to contain them. “I never knew how much losing Colin hurt you.”

“I'd give anything if you didn't.” He tucked her against him the same way he used to when she was little. Before she knew the world could be a painful and horribly unfair place.
Brandon. Her Brandon.

“How?” She pounded a fist against her chest as if she could restart her broken heart. “How did you?”

“We had you and Sheila and Nathan, and I had your mother.”

“Mom,” Morgan choked. “God. This explains so much.”

“You will get through this,” Jackson told her. “I promise we'll help you get through this, and then one day, while the pain will still be there, it won't cut as deep. One day, instead of remembering the loss, you'll remember his life.”

“I'm so sorry, Dad. For everything. I never meant—”

He pushed her away from him, clasped her face in his hands, and forced her tear-stained face up so she had no choice but to look at him. “I've never been so proud of you as I was today in that interview room. Admitting your mistakes, knowing what it might cost you—”

“I embarrassed the family. Put the foundation, the center at risk.”

“You did what your mother always taught you to do, Morgan Elizabeth Tremayne. You followed your heart.” His own eyes filled with tears as he smiled at her. “You saved Colin. Maybe not our Colin, but one is alive who might not be otherwise, and for that I thank you.”

“Gage will never forgive me.” She tried to stop the tears, to regain control, but there was no fighting it anymore. “I've lost him.”

“I know it feels that way.” Jackson pulled her into his chest again, rocked her, stroked her hair. “But Gage is a good man. I think he just needs time.”

Morgan wanted that to be true. She also wanted Brandon healthy, laughing, spinning in circles in the backyard as he threw water balloons at her head. She wanted another broken washing machine. She wanted to fix the garbage disposal again or have to rewire the toaster or anything. She'd never complain about it again. For as long as she lived. But time wouldn't heal the wounds she'd inflicted on Gage.

She'd betrayed him. Lied to him. Deceived him.

How could she expect him to forgive her when she couldn't forgive herself?

***

“I can't believe you arrested that beautiful girl.”

Gage let out a long breath and dropped his head against the lawn chair in his parent's backyard. On the one hand he'd come for some peace and quiet. On the other, if he'd wanted peace and quiet he should have gone home. To his empty house. His empty, quiet house.

He'd grown accustomed to the noise children made, to their laughter and arguing, to their constant running and crying and bantering. To the chaos of water fights, and in the center of it all, Morgan.

Morgan.

“Have another beer.” His father handed him a bottle, took the chair beside him as the sun settled into the sea.

“I'm driving.” Gage set it on the grass, rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “Christ, what a day.”

“You've had better,” Daniel agreed, cringing when he heard Theresa banging dishes in the kitchen. “Took your life in your hands coming here tonight.”

“Maybe I thought she'd end my misery.”

“My future daughter-in-law.” Theresa's voice blasted through the open patio door. “What on earth goes through that boy's head?”

“I was doing my job,” Gage yelled and then, “Wait, your future what?”

“Your job sucks.” Theresa's proclamation echoed that of her daughter from hours before. Hours. Had it only been hours since he'd had to arrest Morgan? Since he'd questioned Morgan? Treated her like a common criminal? Good God, what had he done?

“At least the D.A. won't be pressing charges,” Daniel said. “Saw the news conference a while ago. That Agent Dyson was very complimentary of you and your team.”

“Damage control,” Gage muttered. “But yeah. My team did great.” His team. “Dyson was kind to credit Morgan, the foundation, and even Nemesis with providing evidence to bring down the Benetiz Cartel. Nothing like thanking a criminal for committing a crime that exposed an even bigger one.” The fact that an arrest warrant had been issued for James Van Keltin upon his return to the States took the sting out of the day's events.

“Nemesis has been your target for a long time.” Daniel took a long drink. “Your focus.”

Nemesis. Gage never wanted to hear the name again. He'd destroyed too much. Cost Gage too much. At one time that might have made him even more determined to find him.

Instead, he wanted to forget that the case, and the criminal, existed. Before Gage ended up in the grave next to Brady Malloy.

“You have considered that if it wasn't for Nemesis, you never would have met Morgan.” Theresa stormed up behind them.

“Actually, no.” Gage frowned. “No, I figured that was—”

“I raised an idiot.” Theresa waved her wooden spoon in the air as if it would help her take off.

“
We
raised him, dear. I have to agree with your mother,” Daniel told him. “Not to mention the fact that what Morgan did, she did for a good reason.”

“There's never a good reason for breaking the law.” Except, knowing what she'd done, why she'd done it—was he wrong? Maybe he was wrong about a lot of things.

“Told you,” Theresa shouted. “Idiot.” The front door slammed, indicating Gina's arrival since Liza was staying the night at the Fiorellis' to help Sheila with the kids. But instead of the normal greeting yelled out by either twin, silence followed. “Gina?” Theresa asked. “Baby, what is it?”

The sound of his sister's sobs forced Gage's eyes closed as grief landed on his chest like a pouncing bear. His father's chair creaked as he got up, leaving Gage alone in the yard. Gage's ears echoed with the broken words his sister could get out. “Matter of time. Gone. Machines. Dying.”

Dying.

He got up, walked slowly at first, and then picked up speed as he headed for the back gate.

“Gage. Where are you going?” his father called, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. Because the second he did, he might just break.

***

“I'm looking for Brandon Monroe's room.” Gage flashed his Inspector's badge at the nurse's station.

“I'm sorry, Inspector, but if you aren't family—”

“Gage?” Judging from the look on Angela's face, she must be thinking he'd come to take Morgan into custody again. “It's okay, Thelma. He's a friend of the family. Morgan's downstairs getting coffee. I'm sure she'll be back in a few minutes if you want—”

“Can I see him?” It was all he could manage.

“Of course.” Angela guided him inside. “Nico took Drew home. He's bringing all the kids by tomorrow so we can—” She didn't finish.

As much as he tried to prepare himself, the sight of the frail little boy lying so still in the center of a too-big bed, the respirator pumping air into his lungs, would have driven Gage to his knees if he hadn't been holding on to the wall.

It hurt to breathe. The tears that tightened his throat made his head go light. “Does he . . . ? Is he . . . ?”

“No way to know for sure.” Angela gripped his arm, rubbed his back. “Would you mind staying with him while I check in at home? Morgan promised him he'd never be alone.”

He remembered. He'd always remember and be haunted by Morgan's protest at the house when he'd prevented her from getting in the ambulance.

And then Angela was gone.

What did he say? What did he do? How was he supposed to act when a child lay dying in front of him?

Was this how Morgan felt every day of her life? How did she bear it?

The thought of no new paintings on the wall, no more water fights, no more broken sinks or experimental disfigurement of DVDs . . . How had this happened? One day he'd been happy, healthy, and exploding with energy, and now—

In a few short weeks this child had awakened a part of Gage he didn't know existed. Not just this child. All the children. Not just the children.

Morgan awakened him.

Gage walked over to the bed, took a hold of Brandon's cool hand, and bent down. He held the tiny fingers against his cheek as the sound of the respirator echoed in his ears.

Watching this life fade was more torturous than the bullet that had passed through his body, more excruciating than dealing with the death of a fellow officer. Yet Morgan did it, time after time, beginning with her brother. And instead of turning away as most people would, she embraced the sickness, the struggle. The child.

All those years, all those children. Making sure every sick child she came across was given every chance at life.

A chance at love.

She was the strongest person he'd ever met.

Gage smoothed Brandon's thin blond hair from his face. What he wouldn't give to see those big blue eyes of his again, to see that smile.

Gage placed Brandon's hand back on the bed and kissed his forehead. “Thank you, little man.” Gage squeezed his eyes around the tears, unable to stop them from splashing onto Brandon's cheek.

Gage pulled his ID out of his pocket, the badge Evan had given him the day Gage had accepted the inspector job. When he'd accepted it, he'd hoped it would put his life right again—that he'd find his purpose.

He slid the hook of the badge over the top edge of Brandon's gown. He pressed his hand over it for a moment, then, when Angela returned, he left without saying another word.

***

At noon the next day, Morgan sat at Brandon's bedside, her hand holding his as the machine beeped his heart rate. Slow. Slow. Slow.

She let the tears fall unchecked, looking down at the frail body that continued to house a beautiful, strong soul.

“Morgan?”

Morgan wiped the tears away as she saw Kelley in the doorway, with Angela and Nico, who carried Lydia, behind her. “Oh, hi.” She sniffed, let go of Brandon's hand, and opened her arms to the little girl.

Kelley ran to her, threw her arms around her neck, and began to cry, her body shaking in Morgan's grasp.

“It's okay,” Morgan whispered brokenly, cupping the back of Kelley's head and rocking her gently. “He doesn't hurt anymore.”

Angela pressed a hand to her throat, the question in her eyes.

Morgan could only shake her head before her eyes blurred again. She didn't know if she'd ever stop crying. The pain felt endless.

“Time to say good-bye.” Nico set Lydia beside Brandon on the bed so she could tuck one of her stuffed bears under Brandon's arm.

“You always liked Mr. Bundle. Take him to heaven, okay? Maybe you can give him to my mom.”

Morgan shifted Kelley in her lap as Nico picked up Lydia again. She linked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Can he hear us?” Lydia asked.

“I hope so,” Morgan said.

Angela and Nico took turns, coming over to Brandon, bending down and whispered their good-byes.

The monitor beeped. Slower. Slower.

“I don't want him to go,” Kelley cried. “I want him here, with me.”

“I know, baby. So do I.” Morgan didn't think she could withstand the pain. Hers was bad enough, but the kids' . . . “He can't stay. His body's just too sick.”

“You can make him better. You made me better. You make everyone else better.”

“Kelley.”

Drew stood in the doorway, his own face wet with tears that came from defiant eyes. “Brandon's body can't fight anymore. It's time to let him go. We need to tell him it's okay to let go.”

Morgan sobbed, then covered her mouth as Drew came into the room. She held out her hand.

“I told him I'd stay,” Drew told her as he took it. “The other night he asked if I'd made up my mind and he told me to say yes only if I could promise. I don't break my promises.”

Morgan gave him a sad smile. “I'm glad you're staying.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.

Morgan took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “It's okay to let go, Brandon. We'll be all right now.”

Nico, still holding Lydia, sat on one side of the bed, Angela the other. Drew stood sentry still behind Morgan as they waited for Brandon to leave them.