Chapter Thirty-Two #2
“Killing him might just stir things up, make things worse than they are already.”
“The police have moved the Larsen case to a back burner. Brodie’s an ex-cop and a PI. He’s got all sorts of enemies. If he gets killed, it could be anyone. Once we get rid of him, this will be over.”
“What about the girl? He’s been staying with her. She might know something.”
A long pause ensued. “She’s a model. All they think about is their hair and makeup. She won’t be a problem.”
“And if she gets in the way?”
“Then get rid of her, too. Call in some help if you need it, but this time get it done.”
The call ended and he made another, this one to the man who’d been hired to take Brodie out. “You’ve got another chance. Get some men and take care of it. You know who to call.”
“You know I prefer to work alone.”
“Yeah, well, you tried it your way; now you’ll do it mine. And you’d better not blow it. You do, you’ll be the one dodging bullets.” He hung up the phone and sat back in his chair.
He didn’t like this business of murder. But with the money involved, sometimes unpleasant things had to be done. He’d make sure Brodie was taken care of; then things could get back to normal.
Rising from his chair, he walked outside into the humid summer air.
The sexy little redhead he’d been seeing for the past couple weeks waved in his direction.
She was sunbathing topless. Wouldn’t take much to get her out of her bikini bottoms. He watched as she dove into the pool, started unbuttoning his flowered shirt and stripped it away, leaving him in just his swim trunks.
He liked the good life. He wasn’t about to give it up. He smiled and dove into the water.
Ethan sat in Val’s living room with Val and Detective Bruce Hoover. Two police cars still sat out front. Hannah was next door with Mrs. Oakley, helping the old woman make chocolate chip cookies.
Val’s neighbor had come over as soon as the ambulance arrived.
As the EMTs worked over Val, Ethan explained to her about the shooting and the statements they would need to give the police.
Mrs. Oakley volunteered to take care of Hannah, bribed her with cookies and kindness, and so far it was working.
Next to him, Ethan’s arm around her waist, Val looked pale and brave, her arm bandaged where the bullet had gouged an inch-long groove into her flesh just above the elbow. He didn’t want to think what would have happened if the shot had gone sideways, hit her in the chest or even the heart.
The EMTs said the injury wasn’t that serious but insisted she go to the hospital to be checked out. Ethan had done his best to convince her. Val had refused, though her arm probably hurt like hell.
“I’m studying to be a doctor,” she’d said. “Well, an animal doctor, but still . . . I know how to take care of a wound like this.”
Then Hoover had arrived and started asking questions, pacing back and forth between the sofa and the shattered front window. As usual, he was in a grumpy mood.
“So you think the shooting is related to the Larsen murder. You think our killer is back.”
It made sense. Though at the moment, he wasn’t sure of anything.
“The killer left a note at the Larsen murder scene threatening to take out another model. The job he did was neat and clean, in and out, and not a clue left behind. The MO here is different, but a sniper’s bullet is just as neat and clean, the shooter’s identity equally hard to track down.”
Hoover held up a chunk of lead Ethan had dug out of the leg of the sofa. “Caliber could be a .308, but until forensics gets a chance to weigh it, we won’t know for sure.”
“You’ll find a couple more embedded in the porch.”
Hoover studied the misshapen piece of lead. “.308s aren’t that uncommon. Marine snipers shoot an M-40 rifle that fires a .308.”
“That’s right.”
“Maybe it was someone from your past.” Hoover turned, the top of his fringed head gleaming as if it had been polished. “You think of that, Brodie? Could be someone you investigated or arrested, someone you pissed off real good.”
Ethan blew out a breath. His gut said this had nothing to do with the past and everything to do with the present. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“I know one thing for sure—I need to get my little girl somewhere safe, and being with me isn’t it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got a call in to my cousin. He didn’t pick up. I’m waiting for him to call—” His phone started chiming. He checked the caller ID, pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, Nick, thanks for calling. Listen, I’ve got a problem. I’m hoping you can help.”
“This a new problem or just more of the old?” Nick asked.
“Both. Allison got arrested for DUI. Hannah was with her, so now she’s with me. The thing is, when we got back to Val’s apartment, a sniper was waiting. Val got creased protecting Hannah.”
“Jesus. She okay?”
He swallowed, tried not to think of the blood.
His own he could handle. Seeing hers . .
. not so much. “She’s okay. Wouldn’t even let them take her to the hospital.
” He wondered if his cousin could hear the pride in his voice, though she probably should have gone.
“The cops are here. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I need Hannah somewhere safe. ”
“Yeah. Sounds like you’re in the middle of a real cluster-fuck, cuz.” Nick was ex-military. He didn’t mince words.
“You can say that again.”
“Take it easy, okay? You look out for Val and we’ll take care of Hannah. Samantha loves kids and she especially loves your little girl. On top of that, I’ll watch out for her myself, make sure no one comes near her, yes? You don’t have to worry, okay?”
His chest felt tight. “Okay . . . all right. Thanks, Nick.”
“The cops are still there, right?”
“Yeah. They’re combing the area. Guy’s long gone.”
“Okay, I’ll bring Samantha. We’ll come get Hannah.”
“I really appreciate this, Nick. I can’t tell you how much.”
“Don’t be an ass. She’s family. So are you. We’ll be there as fast as we can.”
His chest clamped down as the call ended. Worrying about Val, nearly getting her killed, had him strung right to the edge. Worrying about his kid, putting Hannah in danger . . . it was a gut punch he never wanted to feel again.
The worry was muddling his brain, making it hard to think. He had to get his head on straight and he had to do it now.
“So you believe this guy could be our killer,” Hoover said, picking up the conversation where they had left off.
“I think it could be, yeah.” Or it could have something to do with drug smuggling. But he couldn’t say that, since he hadn’t had time to develop the lead, and Hoover wouldn’t appreciate Ethan looking at Stern without a damned good reason.
Add to that, he couldn’t think of a motive for Stern or anyone involved with David Klein to take a shot at Val.
“I’ve talked to Matthew Carlyle. He’s put his team back on alert. He’s got a man with each of the models who live in Seattle, and all of the ones who received a note, even if they live out of town.”
Ethan nodded. “Good. That’s good.”
Hoover stood up from the sofa. “You need to go through your old case files, see if there might be someone who wants you dead. I want a list of anyone who might have a motive.”
“I’m an ex-cop. I do P.I. work. I’ve got plenty of enemies. But I don’t think—”
“Don’t think, just do it.”
“Fine.” He’d do it. There was always a chance he was wrong.
“And I want that list ASAP, so don’t dally.”
“Okay, I’ll start on it today.”
“All right, that’s it for now.” Hoover got up from his chair. “Anything comes up, you know where to find me. In the meantime, keep your head down.”
Ethan felt the pull of a smile. It felt out of place considering the circumstances. “Good advice.” Reluctantly, he released his hold on Val and walked the detective to the door. “Thanks, Bruce.”
Hoover waved as he crossed the porch, heading back to his car.