Chapter Thirty-Four #2
Dirk’s batten-board house was built in the seventies, a single-story structure that faced backward, out toward the lake.
With an eye to making a profit, he had slowly been improving the place.
New roof. The exterior dark wood recently stained.
He’d pruned the overgrown landscape, though he liked his privacy, so he hadn’t trimmed too much.
When Ethan opened the door leading in from the garage and they stepped into the kitchen, the interior smelled of lemon oil. The appliances were old, but everything was neat and clean. Dirk was ex-military. The lessons had stayed with him.
Ethan cracked the window over the sink to let in some air while Val went to open a window in the living room.
When she pulled the drapes, there was a partial view of the lake down through the trees and rooftops of houses on the lanes below.
A newly stained wooden deck opened off sliding glass doors.
Val ran a hand over the old-fashioned burgundy velvet sofa next to a matching chair. “I can feel her in here—the lady who owned the house. I bet she loved this place. It’s not exactly Dirk’s style, but it’s quaint and very charming.”
“Dirk said it reminded him of his grandmother.”
“Maybe that’s why he kept it.”
Ethan set down his bag and the one Val had packed. “Nothing so romantic. The boat dock’s close by. He’s got a Scarab 215 with twin two fifty engines. That’s five hundred horses. Dirk loves to water ski.”
“Anything that involves speed, I guess.”
He shrugged. “And fishing. Boat’s not exactly built for slow going, but we make it work.” He grabbed the bags and headed down the hall. He could hear Val’s footsteps right behind him. “The house isn’t big, but Dirk keeps one of the bedrooms for guests.”
Ethan walked in and set the bags on the floor. “Queen-size bed.” He looked at Val, thought of her there beside him, and arousal sifted through him. “I guess we’ll have to snuggle.”
Val smiled up at him. “I don’t mind.”
He didn’t either. Though he’d just had her, looking at the bed beneath the old-fashioned handmade quilt made him want her all over again. “How’s your arm?” he asked, afraid he might have hurt her when he’d taken her before. “When will you need to change the bandage?”
“I’m okay. I don’t have to change the dressing till tonight. I brought everything I need.”
Worry filtered through him. “Maybe you should take another pain pill.”
“I might. If it starts hurting again. But later, once we’re settled.”
He knew she was afraid something else might happen. Hell, he was worried about it, too.
“There’s a bath at the end of the hall. Why don’t you get settled while I set up my laptop?”
“I need to do that, too. Oh, darn, that reminds me. With everything that’s happened, I forgot to tell you what I found out.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Since I’m not just a pretty face, I decided to see what else I could find out about Myra Stern. I Googled her and started digging, and guess what?”
“What?” he asked with a hint of amusement, glad she was smiling after all she’d been through that day.
“Myra wasn’t jealous of Jason. Certainly not enough to hire someone to kill his mistress. In fact, she has a thing for younger men.”
His eyebrows went up. “I remember reading in her file that she’s a few years older than her husband.”
“Eight years older. Jason’s forty-six. Myra’s fifty-four, but she stays in shape, and she’s had enough face work to look years younger. Jason’s actually getting too old for her.” She grinned and her dimples appeared. “It seems the lady is quite the cougar.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s right. In the tabloids, she’s been linked with several young, wannabe movie stars. Even a young pro golfer. Jason has his ladies, but Myra has her much younger men.”
His lips twitched. “Another perfectly good theory shot to hell.”
Val laughed. “So where do we go from here?”
His amusement instantly faded. “I need to make that phone call. This is the first chance I’ve had to talk to Jack Morrell.”
“He’s the DEA guy in Miami, right?”
He nodded. “I worked a case that led down there a couple of years ago, got a tip on a big shipment of drugs coming into the country. Jack handled the bust. He’s a good man.”
“So he owes you for the tip?”
“Let’s hope he thinks so.”
The phone call to Jack Morrell went better than Ethan expected.
“I’ve got trouble here, Jack. Big trouble. I’m hoping you can help.” Ethan told him about the murder, the investigation that had led to a copycat killer in Dallas and a hostage situation in Atlanta. He mentioned the sniper who’d been waiting for him this morning, here in Seattle.
“Sounds like you’re up to your ass in alligators, good buddy.”
Ethan grunted. “I’m not sure what the hell is going on, Jack, but I really need to find out.”
“So how can I help?”
“One of the leads I’m following involves a guy named Julian Latham. Thirty years old, lives in Miami. Peter and Alessandra Latham, Julian’s parents, are big money, Jack. The kind that might just come a little too easy.”
“And you’re saying that because . . . ?”
“Julian works for one of his father’s companies, Latham Property Management. Interestingly, he travels three or four times a year to Caracas, disappears for a couple of days, then comes home. I’ve got a feeling he’s doing more down there than managing company property.”
Ethan filled Jack in on as many details as he knew, including the hotel, the Gran Melia, where Julian stayed when he was in the city.
“Your tip was good the last time,” Jack said. “I’ll check this out. We’ve got a man on the ground down there. He may recognize the name. If not, I’ll have him do some digging, see what he can come up with.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
“I’ll call you when I’ve got something. Meantime, stay out of range.”
Ethan smiled. He was getting plenty of free advice lately. Most of it was pretty good. “I’ll do my best.”
He hung up the phone and turned back to Val. “Morrell’s got a man in Caracas, an agent or informant, I’m not sure which. He’s going to see what Julian’s up to.”
“I hope he does it fast.”
“Yeah, so do I.”