“I’ll be in touch as soon as we have something.” The line went dead. I’d been expecting an interrogation or at least a reprimand for asking for Felis help in a purely human matter.
I wasn’t sure what the price was going to be for asking Jess for this favor but I was willing to pay it.
The lobby was full of hustle and bustle, the usual perp walk of innocent criminals going in and out. But things were different with the news that a baby was missing, an added urgency infecting everyone. People walked faster, phones answered quicker.
Even the hookers looked concerned, one stopping to drag a bright red neon fingernail across the bottom of the brand-new poster of Liam stuck on the bulletin board. She shook her head and mumbled something to the man beside her, who thumped the floor with his walking stick.
It took a lot to piss off a pimp.
The cell phone vibrated against my hip.
I hesitated, not recognizing the number. At least it wasn’t Bran—I wasn’t sure I was up to dealing with him right now.
I hit the button and put it up to my ear. If I was lucky it was a sighting of Liam by one of the family.
“Rebecca.” I froze, recognizing Michael Hanover’s voice.
So much for luck.
“I’m here.” I didn’t want to speak his name aloud. It was sort of like the Bloody Mary urban myth.
“Where are you?”
“About to step out of Division 14 after having a rousing game of canasta with the police.”
Police and civilians flowed around me as I headed for the front doors. I fought against the tide until I got outside.
“We need to talk.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I trotted down the front steps, free of the constraints of the police station. “Just tell me—did you try to set me up for Molly’s death because I love your son? Because if you say yes I’m about to bring down the shit storm of all shit storms on your head.”
“You can’t talk to me like that.”
I sat down on the concrete steps. “I can and I am. You’re in a ton of trouble and I wouldn’t count on Brayton going down on a murder charge to keep your name out of all this.”
“I need you to come to my office. We need to talk about this and I don’t like doing it over the phone.”
“I’m on my way.” I cut the connection before he could respond.
The cell phone buzzed again before I could even think about putting it away.
WHERE R U?
Bran.
My fingers paused over the tiny keyboard. I had to tell Bran but I had no idea how to even start to approach the subject. Honey, I love you but I might have accidentally participated in the murder and cover-up of your father’s secret lover and the kidnapping of your half brother.
Didn’t roll off the tongue.
STILL WORKING. BE HOME SOON.
WHERE ARE U?
DOWNTOWN AT MTNG. GOT 2 GO. LUV YOU.
I wondered if there was a special confession rite for lying through text messages.
Chapter Five
It took me a few minutes to flag down a cab and direct him to the Hanover Investments complex, after which I sat back and searched for Ian Hamilton, using the cell phone’s built-in web browser.
I could get used to this sort of investigating.
A plethora of Ian Hamiltons popped up in the results page, thinned slightly by adding “construction” to the search criteria. It was a page long but it was a start.
As we stopped in front of the tall glass needles I saved the details and tossed the driver a twenty before heading for the front doors.
The security officers watched as I approached the desk for the second time, my messenger bag flapping against my hip. I signed in again and flashed my license to the same senior officer I’d seen on my first visit.
“I’m here to see Michael Hanover this time.”
“Fifteenth floor.” The supervisor checked his clipboard. “I don’t have you on his list of appointments today.” He eyed me over the clear plastic. “We need to call upstairs. Are you expected?” The tone in his voice told me he was used to turfing surprise visitors.
“No but he’ll
I wasn’t sure what the price was going to be for asking Jess for this favor but I was willing to pay it.
The lobby was full of hustle and bustle, the usual perp walk of innocent criminals going in and out. But things were different with the news that a baby was missing, an added urgency infecting everyone. People walked faster, phones answered quicker.
Even the hookers looked concerned, one stopping to drag a bright red neon fingernail across the bottom of the brand-new poster of Liam stuck on the bulletin board. She shook her head and mumbled something to the man beside her, who thumped the floor with his walking stick.
It took a lot to piss off a pimp.
The cell phone vibrated against my hip.
I hesitated, not recognizing the number. At least it wasn’t Bran—I wasn’t sure I was up to dealing with him right now.
I hit the button and put it up to my ear. If I was lucky it was a sighting of Liam by one of the family.
“Rebecca.” I froze, recognizing Michael Hanover’s voice.
So much for luck.
“I’m here.” I didn’t want to speak his name aloud. It was sort of like the Bloody Mary urban myth.
“Where are you?”
“About to step out of Division 14 after having a rousing game of canasta with the police.”
Police and civilians flowed around me as I headed for the front doors. I fought against the tide until I got outside.
“We need to talk.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I trotted down the front steps, free of the constraints of the police station. “Just tell me—did you try to set me up for Molly’s death because I love your son? Because if you say yes I’m about to bring down the shit storm of all shit storms on your head.”
“You can’t talk to me like that.”
I sat down on the concrete steps. “I can and I am. You’re in a ton of trouble and I wouldn’t count on Brayton going down on a murder charge to keep your name out of all this.”
“I need you to come to my office. We need to talk about this and I don’t like doing it over the phone.”
“I’m on my way.” I cut the connection before he could respond.
The cell phone buzzed again before I could even think about putting it away.
WHERE R U?
Bran.
My fingers paused over the tiny keyboard. I had to tell Bran but I had no idea how to even start to approach the subject. Honey, I love you but I might have accidentally participated in the murder and cover-up of your father’s secret lover and the kidnapping of your half brother.
Didn’t roll off the tongue.
STILL WORKING. BE HOME SOON.
WHERE ARE U?
DOWNTOWN AT MTNG. GOT 2 GO. LUV YOU.
I wondered if there was a special confession rite for lying through text messages.
Chapter Five
It took me a few minutes to flag down a cab and direct him to the Hanover Investments complex, after which I sat back and searched for Ian Hamilton, using the cell phone’s built-in web browser.
I could get used to this sort of investigating.
A plethora of Ian Hamiltons popped up in the results page, thinned slightly by adding “construction” to the search criteria. It was a page long but it was a start.
As we stopped in front of the tall glass needles I saved the details and tossed the driver a twenty before heading for the front doors.
The security officers watched as I approached the desk for the second time, my messenger bag flapping against my hip. I signed in again and flashed my license to the same senior officer I’d seen on my first visit.
“I’m here to see Michael Hanover this time.”
“Fifteenth floor.” The supervisor checked his clipboard. “I don’t have you on his list of appointments today.” He eyed me over the clear plastic. “We need to call upstairs. Are you expected?” The tone in his voice told me he was used to turfing surprise visitors.
“No but he’ll
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