‘Did you have contact with Mr Linden again?’ JD asked.
‘No. It kind of became . . . my life. And then I read about what happened to Linden’s daughter, Patricia. I nearly came forward, but . . . I didn’t. I started packing instead.’ She dropped her eyes, appearing ashamed. ‘And then Darian Hinman was found dead. I knew he’d testified at your trial, Mr Thorne. Kirby had followed every detail. He’d told me everything. I knew Hinman and Richard Linden had been friends. And now Brent Kiley, the EMT, has been killed, and—’
Thorne jerked forward in his seat. ‘Wait, what?’
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘I read it on the news. When I was in the salon. His body was found this afternoon. That’s why I wanted my son to come home, so we could get away.’
Thorne twisted in his chair to stare at JD, whose mouth was slightly open.
‘I didn’t know,’ he murmured.
Thorne nodded. ‘We need to talk to your boss.’
JD nodded grimly. ‘You’re right. We do.’
Prew frowned. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you would have heard. I thought that’s why you came here.’
‘No,’ JD said. ‘We’ve been a little busy with another shooting and a house fire.’
Frederick held out his phone. ‘Here it is. Brent Kiley was found this afternoon by someone from his firehouse when he didn’t show up for his shift. There are no details yet.’
‘I’ll get them,’ JD vowed. Joseph had been busy carting the moms and kids to Chicago, but Hyatt could have called. Should have called.
Eileen searched their faces. ‘What are you going to do with me?’
‘Nothing,’ Thorne said. ‘I’m not a cop and JD is here as my friend, not in an official capacity. But it would make a difference if you gave a statement. The key ring is important. Richard Linden’s killer thought so. His sister’s killer agreed. So did Darian Hinman’s. That Linden Senior has paid you for years for your silence means that he knows it’s important too.’
She looked away. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ll be on record and I’ll have to testify. There won’t be anywhere on earth safe enough for my son.’
You fucking bitch. Thorne’s temper broke free. ‘Look at me, Eileen,’ he bit out, using the voice that made hardened criminals sit up straight and tell him everything. He waited until she’d dragged her gaze to his. ‘You have been silent for fourteen years because you were afraid. We all get that. We are afraid. I am afraid. My friends have been shot at. My employees have been injured and set up for crimes they did not commit. My father was attacked in his home. And this afternoon, someone set Detective Fitzpatrick’s house on fire. His wife and children were inside. His children, Eileen. Babies.’
Her gaze skittered away again and he had to resist the urge to grab her face and force her to look at him. She had information that could get them a warrant to search Linden’s home and office, if the corporation could be traced to him. He’d hoped she’d do the right thing, but her jaw had taken on a stubborn line.
This was a woman who’d taken money for her silence. She’d embraced the lifestyle the money afforded. She was not going to testify willingly.
‘Look at Detective Fitzpatrick,’ he spat. ‘Look at him and tell him that your kid is more important than his babies. No? You asked what we’ll do with you. I don’t know about them, but I know exactly what I’ll do. Do you have any idea how many requests I’ve had from reporters asking me to tell my story? Hundreds. Many from national, international networks. What I will do is give them what they want. And I will be sure to tell everyone what you have done. I will be sure to tell them about the Mercedes you drive, the lifestyle you enjoy, the job you do not have.’
She looked at him then, eyes filled with hate. And fear. Whether that fear was because of him, or Linden, or even Tavilla, he didn’t know and did not care. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she challenged, but her voice shook.
He laughed as bitterly as she had. ‘Watch me. Someone is taking my life apart, bit by bit, hurting the people I love. I have nothing to lose.’
He held her gaze as the seconds ticked by. Then she jerked a single nod. ‘Fine. But I want protection for my son.’
No fucking way, he wanted to snarl, but bit it back. This wasn’t the kid’s fault any more than it had been Thorne’s fault when Richard had been murdered.
Gwyn placed a hand on his and Thorne realized he was trembling. ‘We can ask,’ she said quietly. Calmly. Thorne shuddered and felt his anger draining away. He was too exhausted to hold onto it any longer, but Gwyn had taken the baton and he was grateful.
Eileen folded her arms over her chest. ‘All right. It would seem I don’t have much choice.’
She really didn’t. He felt a prick of conscience that he was forcing her hand, then remembered how JD had sobbed in his arms that afternoon. His friends – his family – were hurting. And he could make it stop. Somehow he would make it stop.
He dug deep and found his courtroom presence, and with it, his calm. ‘Just so that we are perfectly clear,’ he said coldly. ‘You’re agreeing to testify that your husband tampered with evidence, turned over the key ring to Richard’s father for money, then later blackmailed the Lindens in exchange for his silence. Then, after his death, you continued to accept money for your silence. Is this correct?’
Her jaw flexed as she ground her teeth. ‘Yes. That is correct.’
It was enough to get a warrant for Linden’s records. Hopefully that would lead to a connection to Tavilla, because that was the one piece of the puzzle that continued to elude them.
‘Thank you,’ he said stiffly. ‘We appreciate your cooperation.’
Twenty-four
Annapolis, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 6.45 P.M.
The thud caught his attention and he turned from the view outside his porthole. He’d always loved this view, but now . . . it didn’t seem to matter. It hadn’t mattered since he’d lost Madeline. It had been two years. Two long years.
At least she hadn’t lived long enough to bury their son. She wouldn’t have survived that. I barely have.
‘Patton’s back.’
He turned to the chair in front of his desk where Kathryn sat, her legs crossed. She wore a pretty black cocktail dress that made her legs look long and elegant.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I think he’s delivered something I requested.’ Or, more accurately, someone. ‘You look lovely tonight. You should always wear dresses. I hated the uniform they made you wear at that club of Thorne’s.’
She smiled at him, a dimple creasing her cheek. ‘I don’t know. It made me feel badass, wearing all that leather. Although I gotta say the bra chafed and I couldn’t sit down in the pants. Still, I looked hot.’
In hindsight, he could have used a little more time to put his plan together. He’d had to do some things too quickly. He would have preferred to have Kathryn in place longer. The movement of money, the hiding of drugs behind the bar . . .
It had been sloppy. The charges against Thorne’s people would never stick, but that was okay. They’d get off lightly this time, but next time the police would be less inclined to believe the best of him.
And I’ll keep attacking. Slowly. Insistently. He had time, after all.
Nothing but time now.
Kathryn rose fluidly and came to put her arms around his neck. ‘I hate to see you like this,’ she whispered. ‘So damn sad.’
He shrugged. ‘It’ll pass.’
She rested her cheek against his shoulder. ‘Madeline wouldn’t have wanted this for you.’
‘No. Probably not.’
‘She warned me, you know. To watch for this.’