Eleven
We had a full house. Dane and Aja were there, as well as Sam’s family, and Dylan had come to check on me, leaving her husband, Chris, at home with their newborn baby.
Aubrey Flanagan had dropped by with her new boyfriend, Rick Jenner, and Sam’s partner, Chloe, was there, as well as my friends Evan and Loudon.
And even though the reason for it was scary, I loved seeing Aja sitting with Sam’s mother and his sisters.
It was fun to watch Evan talking to Dane, Sam’s brother, Michael, and Rick.
Nice to eavesdrop on Sam’s father chatting with Loudon and Aubrey, and listening to Dylan and Sam in the kitchen with Chloe was a treat.
It should have been a dinner party, as well as everyone was getting along.
When the doorbell rang and Sam let strangers in, I realized these were the people working my case.
There were four altogether—two agents from the FBI and two detectives from Chicago PD.
I was surprised that Sam had Dane join us in my little dining room to talk.
He went and got two chairs from the living room so all seven of us could sit down around the table.
Sam’s friends from the department were James Hefron and Neal Moore.
Hefron was tall and balding, with broad shoulders and a wide chest. His eyes were dark brown like mine, and his brows looked permanently furrowed.
In contrast, his partner, Neal Moore, had bright green eyes and a slight build.
His smile was quick, his dimples deep, and his hands moved continuously.
He seemed restless, but in an eager way instead of a fidgety one.
Hefron took a seat as Moore took up space on the coffee table directly in front of me.
The FBI agents were much more interesting—Nia Wright, who reminded me of Tamara Tunie on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, and her partner, Walsh Bingham, who instantly brought Christopher Meloni to mind.
And yes, because they both resembled characters I liked, I found myself more interested in them.
Plus, they both seemed steady and serious, and I was in awe of the FBI. I did watch a lot of TV.
When Neal Moore cleared his throat, I looked away from the agents to him, where he was sitting beside Sam.
“May I call you Jory?” he asked softly, staring into my eyes.
“Sure.”
He nodded. “So, I want to start off just talking to you a bit.”
“Okay.”
“Great.” He forced a smile. “Over the last few days, as we spoke to your brother and to Sam, and after we went back over the old case files from the murder in Oak Park and the others, we were able to piece together something that we didn’t really see before.”
I was confused.
“Something wrong?”
“Aren’t you here about the kidnapping?”
“In a roundabout way, yes. We’re here about the murders.”
“Why? I don’t think they have anything to do with me.”
“They do in that you are the intended victim, but don’t, as the violence is not actually directed at you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Well, actually, this whole thing, the murders, the kidnapping…we believe that all of this has less to do with you and more to do with your brother, Mr. Harcourt.”
“What?” Dane snapped at him, leaning forward, his hands folded on the table.
“How? Why?” I pressed.
“Whoever this person is, he wants what your brother has. He wants to hurt Mr. Harcourt, and he can accomplish that by striking at the people Mr. Harcourt loves. The perpetrator was specifically targeting you because, initially, you were the most important person in Dane Harcourt’s life.”
“But not anymore.”
“No. Now there’s Mrs. Harcourt as well.”
I shivered. “And Caleb.”
Detective Moore scowled at me but said yes.
“Why do you look like that?”
“Right this second, we’re not really sure how Caleb Reid fits into all of this.
You fit, Mrs. Harcourt fits, and if Mr. Harcourt’s friends had been targets, which they haven’t, they would fit, but we’re uncertain about Mr. Reid.
It raises questions about how well this person really knows Dane Harcourt. ”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, Mr. Reid is Mr. Harcourt’s brother, but they’re not close.”
“No, we’re not,” Dane agreed.
“And who knows that, Jory?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Who knows that Mr. Reid is related to Mr. Harcourt but is not privy to the extent of their relationship?”
“I’m thinking not that many people.”
“Exactly. Only someone in Mr. Harcourt’s inner circle would be aware of the relationship, or lack thereof.”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “So technically we would be looking for someone that knows Mr. Harcourt only superficially. He knows the people your brother knows, knows names, but nothing more.”
“So you’re thinking, what, that the kidnappers know an acquaintance of Dane’s?”
“Yes,” he agreed, rubbing his forehead. “But that’s a lot of people. Mr. Harcourt’s close friends and family were easy enough to go through and eliminate as suspects. The wider pool of individuals will take much longer.”
“So why do you think Caleb was taken with Jory?” Sam asked. “Do you have a theory?”
“We think Mr. Reid got taken by mistake.” Agent Wright chimed in. “Or because it was easy… We’re not sure what went on there. We’re going through what Mr. Reid remembers, trying to piece something together.”
I returned my gaze to Detective Moore. “I don’t know about your theory.” I stared into his eyes. “What are you basing any of this on? It sounds really far-fetched, like a—”
“In talking to Mr. Reid, and putting together the timeline, we now know that the first victim, Trey Hart, was murdered—the one in your old apartment, right after he first met you, Jory—when he first saw you and Mr. Harcourt together.”
I waited and tried to breathe. Instantly, I was creeped out. Dane put his arm around me and leaned me close to him.
“The second victim, Ron McCall, was killed around the time Mr. Har—”
“Just Dane is fine,” my brother corrected the detective.
“Okay,” Detective Moore said to him, then looked back at me. “The second killing happened right around the time that Dane made you his brother.”
I had no idea what to say.
“The third victim, Nolan Allen, was killed right after Dane’s engagement party, and the fourth, Donald Bower, was found after his wedding.”
“Why would someone be killing guys who look like me to hurt Dane? That makes zero sense. On top of that, why try and kidnap Aja and me? Why not just her?”
“We think that the brunt of his anger is focused on you, but with the opportunity presenting itself to take both you and Mrs. Harcourt…we believe it was too good to pass up.”
“But—”
“This was the reason for Mr. Reid being taken as well. Opportunity.”
“Sorry, but that’s just crap,” I began. “Because I was taken by two guys. One was driving and one had a gun on me. That’s why the murders, and Caleb’s and my kidnapping, can’t be the same guy.
You’re saying one nutjob killed all four men.
This kidnapping had two, or maybe even more people involved. ”
“We don’t know if he hired a crew. We have no idea other than they are connected.”
“But you can’t say that for certain, and this guy, he let himself be carjacked, so he’s clearly an idiot and—”
“Make no mistake—” Moore shut me down hard.
“—this man has murdered four people. He has been cunning enough to kill them and leave no trace of his identity, only the similarity of the killings being enough to link them. He has left no DNA evidence at any of his crime scenes, so he’s a complete unknown. ”
I took that in. “I appreciate you telling us all this, but for me, I’m not going to live my life in fear, no matter what.”
“Jory,” Moore began, “we don’t want you to be afraid, we just want you to be—”
“May I just say that compared to the first time I was kidnapped, this was a walk in the park?”
“Jory,” Sam warned me.
“What?” I snapped at him, standing up. “It was. You guys forget I’ve been kidnapped by a cop.”
Two agents and two detectives stared at me.
“Can I speak to you, please,” Sam said before he stood and yanked me after him, his hand like a vise on my bicep as he walked me into the bedroom.
He shoved me away from him before he closed the door behind us.
“What?” I asked, exasperated.
“You think this is a joke?”
“No, but I think whoever this guy is has got nothing on Dominic Kairov, so fuck him.”
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
“Do you want me to be afraid, Sam?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“Well, fine, I am a little bit, but not much more. As long as I’m more careful, I’ll be all right.”
We were silent for several seconds.
“So, can we talk about something else?”
I was stunned. “You’re not going to yell at me?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to yell at you?”
“No,” I said quickly.
“Okay, so while I was gone, I thought a lot about you and what my life would be like if I had never met you and—what? Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“’Cause you’re really not going to yell at me.”
“Can we get off that, please? I have something to say.”
I put up my hands. “Sorry, go ahead.”
“Okay.”
I waited.
He stared at me.
“Sam?”
“When this is all over, I want us to fly up to Ontario, Canada, with everybody and get married.”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I want to marry you. And I know it won’t be legal here—we’ll have a domestic partnership here, and a durable power of attorney for healthcare, for all the medical stuff—but there, we’ll be legal.” He was smiling at me. “I want that with you, if you’ll have me.”
I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“Will you have me?”
“Listen, I love you. I don’t need you to prove anything to me. We don’t need to—”
“Who said anything about proving something? I want to be married. I always have. I wanna wear a ring. I want you to wear a ring. I wanna stand up in front of my family and your family and our friends and make a commitment to you, because I don’t ever plan to leave you, and I want everyone to know that.
And I want strangers to see a ring on your finger and know that you’re taken. It’s important to me.”
“I can see that,” I said, because it was all over his face.