Thorne and JD had transported Ming and Mowry back to their respective homes while Jamie and Frederick waited for Laura to be released.
And now Thorne and JD were on their way to Ramirez’s house.
Thorne sighed. ‘What are we going to do, JD?’
‘You’re going to keep doing what you’re doing,’ JD said resolutely. ‘You’re going to prove who’s behind all this shit and then you and Gwyn and Lucy will give an exclusive to whichever reporter has the biggest audience.’
The reporters had been there front and center, looking oh-so-disappointed to have to report that the owners of Sheidalin were ‘allegedly’ involved in a territorial drug war. Allegedly, my ass, Thorne thought bitterly.
‘Once they say we’re guilty out loud, no amount of “allegedly” or after-the-fact retractions will change public opinion.’ He opened his phone, scrolling through the coverage. ‘They could at least get my ethnicity right, for sweet fuck’s sake. One reporter says I’m Samoan, so at least he got the right hemisphere. The rest of them have me as everything from Hispanic to Arab, and guilty of dealing everything from drugs to weapons out of Sheidalin since we opened our doors seven years ago.’
JD raised his brows. ‘Those are trash sites. Nobody believes that shit.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Thorne answered glumly, wanting to tell JD that he didn’t understand. Thorne had heard the slurs for years, some behind his back, others to his face. And people did believe ‘that shit’, or it wouldn’t continue to be written.
‘Then talk to them. Give them what they want. Give them an interview and set the record straight.’
Thorne shook his head. ‘It could backfire. You know how they say that journalists should tell the story without becoming part of the story? I’ll talk to the press on behalf of a client, but I don’t want to be the client.’
‘You are the client, Thorne,’ JD said gently.
Thorne blew out a breath. ‘I know. And if it comes to it, I will talk to them, but the very thought makes me want to throw up.’ He rubbed his temples. ‘I’m more concerned about the impact this is going to have on the club. If Sheidalin goes belly-up, thirty people will be out of work and on the street. I have savings, but not enough to pay their salaries for all that long.’
JD shot him a surprised glance. ‘You’re not really thinking of doing that, are you? Paying them out of your own pocket?’
‘Of course I am. Most of our employees live paycheck to paycheck. They can’t afford not to get paid.’
JD just blinked at him. ‘You have that much money?’
Thorne shrugged uneasily. ‘Jamie and Phil gave me some cash when I graduated from college. Told me to go backpacking in Europe. I invested it instead. I’m comfortable.’
‘Wow. Well, I doubt Lucy and Gwyn are going to allow you to use your own money.’
‘Then our employees will quit, because they’ll have no other choice. And when we finally do start up again, we’ll be doing so with a green crew.’
‘I think you can worry about that later,’ JD said quietly. ‘But for the record, it’s really decent that you’d be willing.’
Thorne’s chuckle was one hundred percent mirthless. ‘You don’t have to sound so surprised.’
‘Shut up, Thorne,’ JD replied, but the words held no real heat. ‘You assume everyone’s thinking the worst of you.’
‘Because they usually are.’
‘Well, that might be true,’ JD allowed. The light changed and he turned left. ‘Where do I go from here?’
‘I’ll direct you. Is it too much to ask that you stay in the car and let me talk to Ramirez alone?’
‘Yes. Mostly because I need to be able to alibi you.’
‘Hope they’ll still believe you,’ Thorne muttered.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Just that hanging with me could be hazardous to your reputation. I’m now a “suspected drug dealer”. Oh, and murderer. Let’s not forget that.’
‘Joseph doesn’t believe it. Neither does Hyatt.’
Thorne found the energy to roll his eyes. ‘It won’t matter soon. I’ll be tried and convicted in the court of opinion. And I’ll be damned if I drag you all down with me.’
‘Jesus, Thorne, you’re making me depressed. Stop it. We’re going to figure this out. You forget Lucy is an equal owner in your little den of iniquity. If you think I’m letting her go down on a sinking ship, you’re insane. I’ll patch the fucking ship myself if I have to. I’ll toss you one of those circle things.’
‘You mean a life preserver? Turn right at the next light.’
JD made the turn. ‘Try not to have all three of you doing hard time on a chain gang just yet, okay?’
‘I’ll try.’
He said no more, giving terse directions until JD had pulled up in front of Ramirez’s place. It was a nice house on about five acres of land, so the nearest home was around the bend. The house was dark, but the lawn appeared to have been freshly mowed. Thorne started to get out of the car, but JD stopped him, handing him a pair of latex gloves.
‘I don’t have a good feeling about this,’ he said quietly.
‘Me either.’ They’d chosen to arrive at quarter till eleven, so that if Ramirez really was going to meet Thorne, he wouldn’t be home right now. But the house didn’t just seem empty. It had a still, abandoned feel to it that was foreboding.
The two of them went up the front walk, JD looking around with a fierce intensity. ‘No cameras,’ he said, then unsnapped his holster and drew his weapon, holding it along his thigh, keeping it pointed at the ground.
The gun Thorne carried was heavy in his pocket holster. He followed JD’s lead and drew it. It was Clay’s, but Thorne owned a similar model. He didn’t like guns, but was practical enough to have become proficient with their operation.
JD opened the mailbox and pulled out several fliers. ‘Announcement for a party at the rec center,’ he murmured. ‘From a week ago.’
They approached the front door and JD sighed. ‘Fuck.’
‘What?’
JD looked at him. ‘You can’t smell that?’
Thorne drew a breath and grimaced. ‘Yeah. Now I can.’
It was the odor of decomposing flesh. Somebody in that house was dead.
‘I gotta call this in,’ JD told him.
‘I know. At least we didn’t go in. I have that much of an alibi.’
JD gave him a distracted nod. ‘Put your gun and the holster in my trunk. I don’t want anyone seeing you with it. It’ll make things harder for you in the long run.’
Thorne did as he was told, then sat in the passenger seat while JD called for backup.
Annapolis, Maryland,
Monday 13 June, 11.15 P.M.
He’d been awake, waiting for Kathryn to get home, so he answered on the first ring. ‘Hello?’
‘Thorne’s not here,’ Patton said grimly. ‘But about a dozen cops are.’
He was not surprised. He’d figured Thorne would put him at the top of his suspect list, but he’d hoped to keep him guessing for a little longer.
He was surprised to hear the cops were there. Their cooperation with Thorne was something he hadn’t anticipated, but he should have. That they hadn’t arrested him right away was a major disappointment.
‘Are you visible?’
‘No. And I’ve altered my face, which was a good idea because the cops have cameras rolling. They’re looking for whoever might have met Thorne tonight.’
‘I’d have done the same,’ he murmured. ‘But things should start to change for Mr Thorne after tonight. The police will be less willing to cooperate with him’ – or protect him for that matter – ‘now that they know he’s been dealing from his nightclub.’
‘Maybe,’ Patton said. ‘Maybe not.’
He frowned. ‘And that is supposed to mean exactly what?’
‘You’ve got a police radio, sir. Turn it on.’
He disconnected the call without another word and flipped on the scanner. And frowned. Then cursed.
Units had been dispatched to Ramirez’s house.
Thorne. But how had he known where Ramirez lived? Surely the man hadn’t been foolish enough to share his address. He’d found no record of it in his files, at least. Maybe Ramirez hadn’t known that Thorne knew. The fool.