Chapter 11
Bess
“I’m calling Roy Battaglia.”
Hugo is already pulling his phone from his pocket as we approach his cruiser, but I quickly block his path, holding up my hand.
“Wait. Why do you need to call Roy?”
I desperately want some control back. I feel like I’m a bit character in a convoluted plot and someone forgot to give me the script. It feels like I’m the only one struggling to keep up.
Roy Battaglia runs a security company that mostly entails the installation and monitoring of security systems regionally, but he also runs a trained team of protection officers providing a variety of security services almost anywhere in the country.
I’d rather not have him sic his guys on me, watching my every move.
Hugo forcefully blows out a breath before inhaling audibly through his nose, visibly calming himself.
“Because as much as I’d love to shackle myself to your side twenty-four seven, I can’t. We are short-staffed, Savvy is already doing more than she should be in her condition, and we need all the manpower we can pull together to get to the bottom of what the hell is going on here.”
He drops his hands on my shoulders.
“And until then, you’re not safe.”
He gives me a little shake when I open my mouth to object.
“Someone clearly thinks you have something they need; information of some kind. They waited for a time when you weren’t around—which means you were being watched—broke in like pros, went through your apartment and your business, grabbed what they thought was pertinent, and casually proceeded to burn it down.
At least try to.” I get another little shake before he adds, “Tell me you realize you are not safe.”
Better than anyone, but that doesn’t mean I want anyone else at risk.
I don’t want more people dragged into my family’s mess.
Because I have a serious suspicion, even if it perhaps wasn’t my brother doing the actual breaking and entering, he’s definitely at the root of it.
Although it doesn’t make sense to take my laptop and some bills, and leave the almost three hundred dollars in the till or anything else that might have value.
Not sure what he was thinking; maybe that he could hit me up for any insurance money? Given how long they may take to pay out, that wouldn’t have been the smartest of plans, even for Ken, who has a history of less than smart decisions.
The truth is, I have no real idea who my brother is. I know nothing about him, except that he’s desperate and I don’t blame him. If, as he claims, the Lotus Squad is after him, he’s in big trouble, and I could well be too.
But as much as I dread involving more people, Hugo does make some compelling points, not the least of which is the stress this situation is putting on others.
So this is what catch-22 feels like. Stuck between guilt over the potential harm I’m bringing into people’s lives on one side, and on the other the kind of guilt that has forced my lips sealed for two decades.
“I realize that, but I can be careful.” I try to negotiate in a last-ditch effort. “Besides, if anyone would’ve wanted to harm me, why would they have waited until I was gone?”
“And what if they don’t find what they’re obviously looking for?
” he counters sharply. “They may come back to ask you in person, and I seriously doubt they’ll be polite about it.
Or maybe they decide you’re a loose end of some sort they need to eliminate.
All that assuming we’re dealing with someone of sound mind, because if not, all bets are off,” he ends in a raised voice.
His obvious anger rattles me. Although he’s usually calm and laid-back, I’ve seen him upset, sad, and even happy, but I’ve never seen him angry like this.
Still, at the risk of angering him even further, his comments spur me on to make one final point.
Something I’d tried to highlight before but which fell on deaf ears.
That’s when we were packing up a few more things for me and Ragnar, and Hugo wouldn’t take no for an answer when he made it clear he expected me to stay at his place.
“Why then insist I stay with you? Wouldn’t I be putting you, or even worse, Carson, in danger?” I indicate.
The mention of his son starts a muscle twitching in his already clenched jaw. I figured that last point might give him pause.
“Can I propose a compromise?”
The change in his stubborn expression is infinitesimal, but I take it as encouragement.
“I’ll check if Doug and Arno can put me up for a few days, if you could look after Ragnar. I don’t think dogs are allowed.”
Douglas McShire and Arno Nobel are the couple who run The Carriage House, a large turn-of-the-century farmhouse converted into a bed-and-breakfast on the outskirts of town.
I could hole up there for a few days, make my phone calls, get my bearings, and figure out what the best move forward is with the least amount of damage.
“Where’s the compromise?” he questions before I have a chance to finish.
I give him a pointed look before I continue.
“Doug dropped by Strange Brew about a month ago, mentioning how Roy and his crew were installing a security system at The Carriage House. He got the full package with alarms, cameras inside and out, and twenty-four-hour monitoring,” I share.
I observe him as he processes the information and slowly nods.
“That would work, but I still don’t like letting you out of my sight,” he grumbles.
“Letting me out of your sight?” I echo with a hefty dose of sarcasm. “May I kindly remind you I am an adult and, although I’ve made my own decisions since I turned eighteen, I’m willing to take your opinions into consideration because I know you care. But don’t mistake me for a doormat.”
His lips press together, but the fine laugh lines deepen at the corners of his eyes.
“You? A doormat? Never,” he grumbles.
Then he slides his hands on either side of my neck and pulls me closer, dropping his forehead to mine.
“I worry,” he adds on a whisper.
I curl my hands around his wrists. “I know. I wouldn’t be standing here otherwise.”
Hugo
“What would anyone want with her phone bills, anyway?” KC mutters beside me.
Exactly my first thought when Bess pointed out she had a file folder containing that information missing from the small filing cabinet in her bedroom.
But when we discovered an agenda she kept in her desk drawer downstairs with mostly information on her suppliers, the deliveries, as well as her employees, schedules, and more of that kind of stuff was missing as well, a possible objective emerged.
“Her contacts,” I clarify for KC. “They took her laptop, her phone bills, and her agenda. If they’re looking for someone they think she’s communicating with, it could be in any one of those things.”
It made sense and, taking into account who was blowing up Bess’s phone just a few nights ago, I’m pretty sure who is up to his neck in this. The timing of all this is such, I’m convinced she knows too, not that she shared that with me.
I was going to bring up her brother when we got back to my place, but instead she ended up at The Carriage House.
Alone. My little dust-up outside the coffee shop yesterday afternoon had her calmly set me straight, resulting in my concession to her alternate plan.
She didn’t raise her voice, but the message was heard loud and clear.
Boy, did she tell me.
I’d been so busy worrying about Bess, so focused on keeping her safe, I didn’t think of the risk it might pose to my son.
She reminded me. So even though I wasn’t a fan of leaving her at the bed-and-breakfast by herself, after talking to Roy, who reassured me she’d be covered, I felt pretty comfortable she’d be safe there.
Unfortunately, it also means that right now, I feel compelled to share a few things with my colleagues I am fairly certain Bess won’t be happy about.
We’re in the large meeting room at the sheriff’s station, where Savvy called a briefing this morning on the break-in and fire at the coffee shop. Rick Althof is leading, going over all the details of the case.
“That’s right,” he confirms my comments to KC. “This suspect is looking for someone and hoping to find answers in the stuff he took.”
“So why set the fire?” KC persists.
“As a message,” I offer. “A taunt, knowing the person they’re trying to find has a close enough connection to Bess to draw them out in the open.”
Savvy, who is standing on the opposite side, suddenly leans forward and plants her fists on the table. Her narrowed eyes focus on me.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I think we need to look into Bess’s brother, Ken.”
“Half brother,” Savvy corrects me sharply, clearly not happy with me. “And she hasn’t seen or spoken with him in decades.”
“I wasn’t aware she had any relatives,” Rick states. “She didn’t mention a brother.”
“Because he’s out of the picture,” Savvy insists, before adding with a glare in my direction, “He’s in jail.”
I meet her angry look straight on. “Not anymore. He was paroled last month.”
“What?”
That news obviously comes as a surprise to Savvy, who immediately turns to her laptop, where I assume she is pulling up the Washington State Department of Corrections website to do an inmate data search.
A muffled curse a few moments later tells me she found confirmation.
“Who is this guy? There’s gotta be a reason you bring him up,” Rick points out.
“I just can’t believe she told you and didn’t mention anything to me,” Savvy grumbles in the background.
“Only reason I know is because I happened to be around when he called her and overheard part of a conversation. She claimed she wasn’t really comfortable talking to him.
” I shrug and add, “I guess I’m just suspicious by nature, and think he’s worth looking into.
Especially since, three days after, her business was broken into and set on fire. I don’t like coincidences.”
“I don’t either,” Rick agrees. “Let’s see what we can find on the brother.”
Ten minutes later, Savvy follows me out of the meeting room.
“My office, please.”
I figured she’d have a thing or two to say to me.
Believe me, I’m not happy spilling the beans on Bess’s brother either, but I don’t regret bringing up his name.
If there is even the slightest chance he’s involved and poses a threat to her, I’m not about to risk her safety by staying silent.
I’ll happily take whatever repercussions come my way.
“She’s not going to be happy with you,” Savvy starts when she’s closed her door for privacy.
“I’m the only one who knew her brother was incarcerated.
When she moved back here from Seattle, she was eager for a fresh start; a life of her own on her terms and without the trappings of her brother’s chosen path.
I respected her choices and her privacy all these years. You learned about Ken only days ago.”
She doesn’t spell it out, but the accusation is clear. Rather than getting on the defensive, I ask her a simple question.
“Knowing what you know now, would you still have stayed quiet?”
The long stare tells me enough.
Then she asks, “Did you talk to her first?”
“No, I didn’t. She probably would’ve told me to keep it to myself.
She has been evasive on the subject of her brother, brushing off his phone call as inconsequential, even though I could easily see their conversation left her unsettled at best. She also chose to stay at the B somewhere along the line things have moved well past friendship between you two.”
“Key words there are between you two,” I point out.
“You’re annoying. I’ll just go talk to Bess myself, I wanted to have a word with her anyway.”
Yeah, I don’t think so. At least not before I have a chance to talk to her first. I should tell her myself and use the opportunity to get some more information out of her.
“Get in line,” I tell my boss. “I am heading there now to give her a heads-up we are looking into Ken and will undoubtedly take the heat for that, but I hope it’ll push her to open up about that call with her brother. If you want to talk to her after, be my guest.”
“Oh, all right,” she gives in. “And then I’ll get her to talk about you and her.”
I just shake my head and reach for her office door, but before I step into the hallway, I leave her with a parting thought.
“For someone who claims to respect privacy, you’re pretty nosy.”