A son who’s seventeen going on eighteen.
Gwyn drew a quiet breath, focused on keeping her expression static while pain constricted her throat. Over the years she’d had a significant amount of practice at hiding her reaction whenever someone mentioned a son. Especially one who was the same age as her own. Eighteen years and four months to be exact. About the same age she herself had been when she got pregnant.
A moment later, the pain had passed, just as it always did. ‘She was a young mother,’ she murmured.
Hyatt’s scowl remained unchanged. ‘How do you know all this, Stevie? How did you know her committee would be meeting at that restaurant today?’
‘She and Clay Maynard probably hacked into the victim’s computer,’ Detective Brickman said suspiciously. He really was an asshole.
Stevie rolled her eyes. ‘You’re just mad because a minivan driven by a lawyer shook you off this morning, Brickman. You don’t know jack shit, so just chill with the insults.’
Brickman started to open his mouth, but Hyatt raised a hand. ‘So,’ he said quietly, ‘if you didn’t hack, how did you know?’
‘Facebook,’ Stevie answered testily. ‘Patricia’s account is not privacy-protected. Anyone can see it. Even cops like you, Brickman.’
Ouch. Stevie apparently didn’t like this guy any more than Gwyn did.
‘We checked her account,’ Brickman said stiffly. ‘She hadn’t posted anything about the lunch.’
‘No,’ Stevie said with exaggerated patience. ‘She hadn’t this month. But if you’d taken the time to go back a month or two, you’d have seen that she met with this group the second Monday of every month at the same restaurant.’
Brickman’s glare could have melted rock. Stevie looked away, unimpressed. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘the point is, there might be reasons why she was targeted, other than her connection to Thorne through her brother. There is the issue of the possible affair. These committee ladies were speculating that the husband might have ended her if he’d found out about the young man. They also speculated that she might have been having an affair with Thorne.’
Thorne’s jaw went so tight that it cracked. ‘I wasn’t,’ he said coldly.
‘I know that,’ Stevie said with a dismissive wave. ‘But they were what-iffing all over the damn place. And then they found your photo and all but swooned.’
Clay nodded. ‘They said they couldn’t blame Patricia for risking her husband’s fury for you. The media is speculating that this was a setup because you weren’t arrested and you were unconscious too. The ladies ran with that, wondering if her husband was responsible. If he was, then the kid could be in danger too.’
Stevie shot another irritated look at Brickman. ‘And because we haven’t hacked into her personal email or anything of that nature, we haven’t identified this kid. Yet.’
Gwyn was aware that Stevie hadn’t specified whether the ‘yet’ referred to her hacking or her identification of the young man. So, apparently, was Hyatt, because the lieutenant looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.
‘How were you planning to ID him?’ he asked.
‘The old-fashioned way,’ Stevie said sincerely. ‘By getting a list of Patricia’s son’s classmates and teammates – anyone she might have come in contact with.’
Thorne’s mouth had turned down doubtfully. ‘I’d love it if I weren’t the target here. But you and Gwyn were shot at today.’
‘And they missed,’ Stevie said pointedly.
Gwyn sensed where Stevie was going with this. ‘They missed us both, Thorne. They didn’t take the opportunity to hit either you or Clay. We’ve assumed this is a campaign to hurt you by hurting – or killing – your friends. But is it possible that they’re just trying to make it look like you’re the target? That they shot at us to shine the spotlight on you and away from whoever might have hated Patricia enough to eviscerate her?’
Eleven
Baltimore, Maryland,
Monday 13 June, 2.15 P.M.
Was it? Thorne thought. Was it possible that today’s shootings were merely a diversion to take the focus off whoever had killed Patricia Linden Segal?
‘Maybe,’ he answered slowly. ‘I suppose so. Except for the key ring.’
Joseph lifted his brows. ‘And how did you know about that?’
‘Crime scene photos,’ Jamie cut in with a small smile.
Hyatt shook his head. ‘Nope. We didn’t give you access to those. Thorne hasn’t been charged.’
Thorne glanced at Gwyn regretfully, but saw her chin already lifted in defiance and felt a welling of pride. ‘I took some photos before the EMTs got there,’ she said. ‘I knew Thorne was being set up. I also knew the EMTs would make a mess of the crime scene getting him out of there. So I snapped some pictures.’
Eyes flashing, Hyatt drew a deep breath and let it out. ‘You might have shared those with us, Miss Weaver.’
‘Why?’ she shot back, outraged. ‘You followed us.’
‘I told you I would,’ Hyatt said icily. ‘I told you I’d have surveillance on Thorne.’
‘Yes, but you followed all our friends too. If any of them had found anything that looked bad for Thorne, you would have pounced on it. You say you believe he’s innocent, but at the end of the day you’re cops, with your own fucking agenda. You’ll take any evidence you can to make your case, even if that evidence is completely out of context.’
Hyatt’s glare was cold. ‘You don’t have too high an opinion of me, Miss Weaver.’
She frowned. ‘No, I really don’t. Yes, you do the right thing most of the time, but I’ve seen the times that you haven’t. I was a paralegal for a lot of years. I worked hundreds of cases for people who were brought to trial unjustly. Your officers take liberties with searches and twist testimony to fit their own needs. Not all of them.’ She shot a quick glance of apology at JD, then at Stevie, before turning her glare back on Hyatt. ‘I know cops who are good, who have integrity, who carry a badge because they truly wish to serve. But some don’t. And some of them have worked for you, Lieutenant.’ She shrugged. ‘But I don’t work for you. Anything I choose to share is voluntary unless I’m subpoenaed. Or arrested. Yes, we knew about the key ring. And had you asked the right questions, respectfully, instead of depending on us to do your work for you, you might have predicted we’d be at Brent Kiley’s apartment. With or without a goddamn tail.’
Thorne stared down at her, warmth spreading in his chest. It was pride, yes. But it was far more than that. She was back. This was Gwyn before Evan ripped her confidence away. She’s back. And she’s fighting. For me. It was damn heady.
Hyatt ran a frustrated hand over his bald head. ‘You defense attorneys . . .’ He bit off whatever he’d planned to say. ‘Are you going to trust us or not?’
‘Not,’ Gwyn stated firmly, just as Jamie said the same.
Joseph nodded calmly. ‘I can see your point, Gwyn. Truthfully, I don’t expect you to trust me. However, I do expect you to be honest with me so that I can do my job and keep you all safe.’
The heady feeling that had filled Thorne seeped away and he sighed heavily. ‘I don’t trust either of you’ – he gestured between Hyatt and Joseph – ‘completely. However, I don’t think you’d lie or intentionally trick me.’
‘At least Joseph wouldn’t,’ Gwyn muttered.
One side of Thorne’s lip quirked before he could stop it. Focusing, he schooled his features once again. ‘I also don’t want to live with knowing that somebody I care about got hurt because I didn’t share the right information. The key ring is important. One that looks to be similar was shoved into Richard Linden’s torso. I saw it when I was trying to stop his bleeding.’
Joseph’s eyes went wary. ‘I saw the court transcripts. I don’t remember reading about a key ring.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Thorne said, ‘that’s because it disappeared.’
‘Brent Kiley is an EMT,’ Hyatt said slowly. ‘Was he one of the first responders to the Linden kid’s scene?’