He leaned back to look down at her. Kathryn was lovely. Young, of course, with smooth alabaster skin and wide brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence. She was a good reader of people too. She was the one who’d told him to jettison Gage Jarvis the summer before. That he couldn’t be trusted.
She’d been right. She’d also warned him about Ramirez. The man had been weak, falling for Kathryn’s charms. Cheating on his wife. His pillow talk had ultimately doomed him, because he’d told her how devastated he’d been over the death of his nephew, the last male of their family. She picked up on the hate that I did not.
‘What did Madeline tell you to watch for?’
He’d never cheated on Madeline. At least not conventionally. His wife had been bedridden for much of the later years of her life. She’d known she would die and had hand-picked Kathryn, giving him her full blessing.
Kathryn had certainly made getting over her death easier. But on nights like this, he still missed his Madeline so much he ached with it.
‘Your melancholy.’ Kathryn caressed his face. ‘She said she’d have to drag you out of your own darkness sometimes. That I shouldn’t let you get too sad. I know you miss her. I know you miss Colin. But I’ve got something to cheer you up.’
She was kissing her way to his ear when they were interrupted by a knock. He sent her back to the chair with a reluctant wave and opened the door. ‘Yes, Mr Patton?’
‘He’s here.’ Patton indicated the punishment room with a jerk of his head. ‘Be careful. He’s waking up earlier than I expected.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Got me with his hard skull.’
‘Thank you. Where is Margo?’
‘She said she was working from home. The baby has a cold and she didn’t want to take him out. She’s got enough of Weaver’s shit to go through to keep her busy most of the night, she said.’
When he raised his brows, Patton rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, sir. Your grandson’s mother says “shit”. I’m sorry to break it to you.’
He found himself smiling. ‘I’ve heard her say it over the years. More times than she should have. Come back in a few hours. I’ll be done with Mr Nystrom by then.’
Patton gave him a salute, then jogged up the stairs, closing the door behind him. He turned back to Kathryn, his smile widening. ‘I think I’ve found a solution to my melancholy.’
She smiled back. ‘May I watch?’
He leaned in to give her an indulgent kiss. ‘Sure.’
‘Why are you killing Nystrom?’
‘Because he’s weak. He was questioned by Thorne this morning. He said all the right things, but he’ll crack if Thorne leans on him again. Especially after hearing about Hinman’s death. He was very scared, and scared men do stupid things.’
‘They expected you to trust them,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘But they sold you information on their friend. They really should have expected the knife in their own backs.’
‘Exactly.’ He tugged off his tie. ‘Should I use the knives or clubs?’
She toed off her shoes and unzipped her dress. ‘Why not both?’
He chuckled. ‘You are the best.’
She shimmied out of her dress, grinning at him. ‘I know.’ She paused, then sobered. ‘I’m worried about Margo.’
He laid his suit coat over his desk, turning to her with a frown. ‘How so?’
‘She’s been . . . off. I mean, yes, she should be sad because she misses Colin something awful, but it’s more than that. She’s working herself so hard. Being a mom is tough enough. I’ve tried to help her out, I’ve babysat Benny as often as I could. But she never rests, even when I’m there to watch him.’
Kathryn and Margo had always been close. Together they’d come up with the plans to infiltrate Thorne’s businesses when he’d refused to represent Colin, acting for the Freaks’ son instead and ultimately sending Colin to prison. Margo’s skill set had been perfect for an office manager, and she’d applied to Thorne’s firm as soon as it was certain that her alias would survive the background check.
Margo had been in her role as Thorne’s office manager much longer than Kathryn had worked at the club, and had been able to gain access to many more parts of Thorne’s business. Trust took time.
But he’d hated sharing Kathryn with Sheidalin, which was why it had taken him so long to allow her to work there. Once she had started, however, the girls had incorporated photos of Kathryn with Benny to flesh out ‘Laura the bartender’s’ social media presence. That way, she had a reason to keep strict hours and to reject social overtures. That way, she came home to him.
‘Do you think Margo needs a vacation?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Somewhere there is no Internet and she can’t work. Maybe we can pull up anchor and sail somewhere warm, sunny and exotic.’ Kathryn’s smile was impish. ‘She and I are both currently unemployed.’
He chuckled. ‘Plan something and run it by me. We’ll celebrate when this is over.’
She clapped her hands. ‘In the meantime, we party with Chandler Nystrom.’
Baltimore, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 7.00 P.M.
‘I’ll just be a minute,’ Gwyn said, unlocking her front door while Thorne, JD and Frederick hovered over her. She’d gotten used to the mild claustrophobia induced by their protection. ‘Poor Tweety. He’ll be crossing his legs for sure.’
‘I’ll walk him,’ Thorne said tersely. ‘You get his things together.’
She didn’t take any offense at his tone. She knew he was barely holding it together, wired so tightly he was about to snap. The news of the EMT’s death had hit him hard.
If I’d only told Hyatt and Joseph that Kiley saw the key ring, he’d whispered to her once Joseph had arrived to deal with Eileen Gilson and the four of them had returned to Gwyn’s. The police would have known that Kiley had critical information and they might have protected him.
Not your fault, she’d whispered back.
Brent Kiley had kept his secret for too many years and he’d paid for it. His fear for his family had been legitimate, but his refusal to do the right thing had led to the collapse of his marriage, leaving him alone with piles of empty pizza boxes and beer cans.
Thorne hadn’t let it go. I could have forced him. Like I just did with Eileen Gilson.
Maybe. But the EMT hadn’t cared about anything enough to be used for leverage. Eileen, on the other hand, did. Both her lifestyle and her son. Gwyn had disliked the woman on sight, and that Thorne had thought she’d been compassionate showed just how off-kilter he’d been thrown by this whole mess. Unable to convince him, she’d just held his hand, hoping that Eileen’s testimony would enable them to get a warrant.
He’d immediately called Christina Brandenberg, the sister of the still-missing Colton. She hadn’t answered his call and he’d left her a message that someone else related to their shared past had been murdered. He urged her to come forward, for protection if nothing else. And once again he begged for her help in finding her brother.
He even called the number he had for Chandler Nystrom, leaving him a warning message, despite the despicable way the former cop had treated him that morning.
Then he’d closed his eyes in silent misery, as Frederick brought them to Gwyn’s condo to collect her dog. They’d decided to stay with Clay because there was strength in numbers.
It felt desperate, because it was desperate. That Thorne was offering to walk her dog made a grim kind of sense. Because Tavilla wasn’t going to kill Thorne. He’d kill me and enjoy watching Thorne suffer.
‘I hope you left that animal some food,’ JD grumbled. ‘He always looks at me like I’m a pork chop.’
‘He does not.’ Chuckling, Gwyn pushed the door open and . . . froze. ‘Oh my God.’
Because her apartment was trashed. Completely trashed. Her sofa was ripped up, the leather knifed to ribbons, stuffing on the floor. The mirrors on the walls had been smashed, glass littering the carpet, which was also strewn with pictures ripped from the walls.
‘Tweety.’ She bolted into her apartment, only to have three sets of arms grab her back.
‘Stay here,’ JD ordered. ‘Frederick?’
‘I’ll hold onto her,’ Frederick promised, because Thorne had already gone running into the apartment.
Gwyn sagged into the older man, her breath coming in pants. Her home. Her safe place. Not anymore.