The Killing Game (31 page)

She’d called the number for the Burkeys from Elias Mamet’s list as soon as she’d left the interview with Kitsy Hasseldorn. No answer. She’d called again a few hours later and the same thing: no answer. The Burkeys weren’t getting back to her and she could find no separate listing for Thomas Burkey.

After that she’d phoned the landlord again, but Mamet was as unhelpful as ever. Though his rental house was only a few doors from the Singletons’ and had been for years, he swore he didn’t know much about them. He also didn’t remember anything about a tenant with an RV, and he brushed aside the horse by saying that a number of tenants had a horse or two. It was one of the draws of his rental.

Mamet’s records were as lousy as his attitude, but September had managed to winnow the long list he’d given her down to four names that could possibly belong to the family of the kid with the addiction problem. She’d called Mamet again later, trying to jog his memory on the four names, but his responses had devolved to gruff yes and no answers, except for his assurance that he didn’t really like police officers of any kind.

Now she was going over the four names of families who had rented the Mamet place. None of them were anything that sounded like
shoe
, as Kitsy had recalled, and only a couple of them had answered her calls or returned them. Of the two who had, most had some recollection of Tommy Burkey, but the kid with the addiction problem rang no bells, most likely because she hadn’t connected with the boy’s family yet. The whole process was like moving through molasses, slow, slow, slow, but that was the nature of police work.

After their talk with Kitsy Hasseldorn, September and Gretchen had been called to a domestic disturbance that ended in death. The wife had hit the husband with a frying pan filled with chicken Marengo, which had burned him and sent him to the hospital. What had killed him was the heart attack that followed this altercation, and the wife was so distraught and disbelieving, it was pretty clear she hadn’t mean to kill him. The case was now in the hands of the DA, who could decide whether to pursue it further. Afterward, it was time to go home, but September had wanted to pick up where she’d left off on the Aurora Lane case today, on the weekend, and here she was.

She put in one more call to the Burkeys, preparing herself for yet another voice message when, to her surprise, the line was answered by a suspicious male, who asked, “Who is this?”

“I’m Detective September Rafferty,” she began, but he cut her off.

“You’ve been leaving messages.”

“Yes, I have. Is this . . .” She’d been going to say Douglas, Mr. Burkey’s name, but changed her mind and asked, “Tommy?”

His intake of air told her a lot. “What do you want?”

“Like I said, I’m just looking for information about a boy who lived on Aurora Lane who—”

“You gonna arrest him for drugs?”

September trod carefully. “Well, no. I just want to talk to him.”

“Why don’t you call his mom and dad?”

“I don’t know their names, Tommy. What’s your friend’s name?”

“He’s not my friend. He wasn’t nice to me.”

“What do you call him?”

“Laser.”

“Laser? Is that his first name or last name?”

“It’s just his name. He’s got laser eyes, y’know?” There was the sound of a sharp female voice and Tommy’s took on an aggrieved note as he said, “I was just talking to her! She wants to know about Laser!”

“Hang up,” the woman ordered.

“Well, geez!” Tommy said, at the same moment September cried, “No, wait!”

The phone cut out.

“Damn it,” she murmured, but she was elated she’d at least gotten some information.

She glanced down the list of four names: the Kirkendalls, Wrights, Pattens, and Brannigans. She’d called them all to no avail, so she phoned the Myleses again. Hannah answered while a baby babbled loudly. The conversation was short. Of course Hannah Myles was too new to the family and Aurora Lane to offer up any information, and her husband and father-in-law weren’t available.

“Story of my life,” September said after hanging up. Frustrated, she tapped her fingers on the phone, feeling as if she were running around in circles, getting no-damned-where. She considered chasing down Tynan again, but she felt he’d told her everything he was going to.

“Damn, damn, and double damn.” She leaned back in her chair and her thoughts turned back to Grace. The older woman’s recollections couldn’t be trusted, but there were kernels of information there that came out that were almost easier to decipher than the roadblocks the other Myleses seemed to want to erect.

And Maple Grove Assisted Living wasn’t all that far away.

What would it hurt to try to talk to the old woman again?

Grabbing her coat from the back of her chair, she headed out. This time she’d just flash her badge and bully her way in to see Grace, even if it brought the staff and all the other Myleses down on her. To hell with it. She was sick of pussyfooting around. She wanted answers.

* * *

Andi hit the remote on her single-car garage and drove inside. The trembling had stopped, but the disbelief and horror remained. She sat for a moment behind the wheel and watched in the rearview mirror as Luke’s truck pulled to the side of the drive behind her.

Climbing out of the car was difficult; she felt like she’d aged a year in the last few hours. It didn’t seem strange when Luke joined her in the garage and walked her to the front door. He inserted the key and pushed the door open, holding it so she could enter first.

Once they were inside she walked into the kitchen and then stared around, completely forgetting what she’d gone there for.

“You want to sit down?” Luke suggested, following after her. He stood by the table, clearly concerned. He’d tried to drive her home, but she hadn’t wanted to be stuck without her car. She could tell he was worried that she was going to fall apart completely.

“I have antidepressants,” she said. “I should take them regularly, but . . .”

“Are they in the bathroom? Medicine cabinet?” At her nod, he went to get them without her asking.

He returned with the two vials of pills. “They look the same.”

“They are the same. Dr. Knapp prescribed them of both, but some were prescribed earlier and then the others after my miscarriage. Dr. Knapp wanted me to keep taking them, and I should. I don’t know why I don’t, except . . . I’m drug sensitive.” She gave him a quick look. “I’ve lost time . . . had blackouts . . . so I don’t always want to take them.”

“You’ve had blackouts from the pills?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want one now?” he asked dubiously.

She shrugged. She wanted something. She just didn’t know what it was.

He held up the two bottles and extended one to her. “These pills look a little bigger.”

“Are they? They were both prescribed by Dr. Knapp.” Andi’s head hurt. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She just wanted to lie down and pretend nothing had happened.

Luke took off the caps of both vials and shook a few tablets into his palm. It was true. The white tablets all looked like aspirin, but the ones from the first vial were slightly larger than the ones from the second one. He squinted at both of the labels.

“Same prescription. Same pharmacy,” Luke said.

She shook her head.

He gave it up and put the tablets and vials on the table, then came over to her. Resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, he steered her to a chair. “You want water? Coffee? Tea?”

“Tea would be great, actually. I’ve got some for the Keurig.”

He made her a cup and brought it to her. Her cell phone rang, muffled inside her purse, which she’d dropped on the table. She looked at it without much interest, then sighed and reached for it. When she plucked out her phone and saw it was Carter, she grimaced. “I haven’t had a chance to tell him about Mimi and Scott yet. God. It seems so unimportant now.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

She nodded and Luke answered the phone. “This is Luke Denton.”

“Where’s Andi?” Carter demanded. She could hear his tinny voice clearly.

“She’s right here. She’s had a shock. Her friend Trini was found dead in her apartment this morning.”

There was a moment of silence, then “Dead! What do you mean dead? You don’t mean . . . dead-dead . . . ?” he asked in shock.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Luke spent a few moments bringing Carter up to speed.

Carter responded, sounding poleaxed, “Okay . . . okay. Well . . . I still need to talk to her.”

Andi reached out a hand when it looked like Luke was going to fob him off. She knew Carter. It would be easiest to just find out what he wanted. “Hi, Carter,” she answered.

“Andi, I’m sorry. It’s unbelievable. I hardly know what to say.... Do the police know anything? Was it foul play?”

“We don’t know anything yet. Just tell me what you need.”

He cleared his throat. “You’re not going to like to hear this. The Carreras are meeting with our lawyer on Monday. They’re bringing a five-million-dollar check.”

“Five mil—” She couldn’t finish. “Goddamn it, Carter. It’s not going to happen! They can bring us a hundred million. I don’t care! Do you get that? Do you? I’m so sick of this!”

Luke was on the balls of his feet. “What?”

“I’ve talked to Emma and—” Carter began calmly.

“No. No, you haven’t. She would never agree,” Andi practically shouted into the phone.

“I was going to say, she feels like you do. But she at least said she’d come to the meeting. I didn’t know about your friend, but you and I need to be there, too.”

“No.
No
.”

“If Greg were alive, he would be there.”

“Greg didn’t trust the Carreras either. You know that.”

“Listen to me, Andi. Greg would want to make sure the company wasn’t in financial trouble. This is our grandfather’s company. One my dad continued, and now it’s up to us.” His voice had taken on an edge. “I don’t want to fight you, but Andi, this is important Wren business, and let’s face it, you’re really not a Wren.”

“Tell that to the Carreras,” she choked out. “They’re the ones sending me ‘little bird’ notes.”

“I don’t know what that’s about, but it’s not the Carreras.”

“I gotta go,” she said.

“Andi—”

“Oh, wait. There’s something you need to know. Luke saw that Mimi’s baby bump is a fake. So you were right about that. But you’re not right about the Carreras!”

She clicked off and dropped the phone on the table, then put her head in her hands, fighting off sobs.

Luke dropped down in front of her and said soberly, “I’m going to connect with Detective Thompkins, but it’s also high time I confronted the brothers.”

She lifted a tear-streaked face to him. “Please don’t. I appreciate it. But not now.”

“You came to me because of them.”

“I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“I don’t have to leave right this minute,” he said, though he looked like that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“I don’t know if you heard. I have a meeting on Monday with Carter, Emma, and the Carreras.”

“I heard enough.”

“Come to the meeting with me on Monday,” she said abruptly. “You can confront them there. I told Carter I wouldn’t go, but I have to. Be there with me.”

“I feel like the momentum’s now,” he tried to argue, rising to his full height.

She shook her head, gazing up at him, mutely pleading.

“I want to find the Carreras and lay our cards on the table,” he explained.

“What cards?”

“That we know about their coercion, that they’re responsible for Ted Bellows’s death, that they’re not going to take the lodge away from the Wrens.”

Andi got to her feet, facing him. She grabbed his left hand. “Don’t go.”

Luke’s jaw worked. “I can’t stand the way they’re forcing themselves on you and your sister- and brother-in-law. I want to know if they had anything to do with your friend’s death. I want to stop them.”

“Yes . . . but wait.”

“Why?”

They looked at each other for a long, tense moment. Slowly, Andi placed her hands on either side of his face. Then she leaned in and kissed him, feeling the warmth of his lips against hers.

She pulled back slowly. She could see how his eyes had darkened.

“I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea,” he said.

“I just want to feel something good.”

“I stay away from clients.”

“I stay away from everyone,” she admitted. “Greg was the anomaly, and now he’s gone.”

“My last relationship ended ugly. Still ending.”

She finally heard that. “You’re still getting over it?” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Oh God. I’m sorry.”

“I’m over it. Was never really in it,” he admitted. “I’m just . . .”

“I’m going to be embarrassed tomorrow.” She took a step backward, needing space, when his arm reached for her and he dragged her back to him. Her breasts were a hairbreadth from his chest. She had to angle her face upward to meet his hungry gaze.

His hands ran up her arms to her shoulders, his grip tight. She could feel he was struggling, but then, with a sigh, his lips captured hers again. Her hands were limp at her sides as his mouth ravaged hers. She sighed in complete abandonment, her knees trembling. She wanted to make love to him until they were both exhausted.

He suddenly swept her up and carried her to the bedroom, standing her on her feet beside the bed, silently looking at her, questioning her. She could practically see the words
are you sure?
hanging in the air between them.

“Yes,” she said.

Then she was unbuttoning her blouse, her fingers uncoordinated with emotion, and he swept them away and took care of the duty himself. She was out of her blouse and bra before she could think, and then he was taking off his own shirt, pulling it over his head, and she was running her hands over his hard chest, her fingers drifting to the waistband of his pants.

He unbuttoned her pants and drew down the zipper, sliding the fabric smoothly down her legs. She unsnapped his fly and did the same, hungry for his body atop her, inside her.

He drew a strangled breath as he looked at her and she could tell he was going to say something, maybe another warning or denial.