Chapter 12
12
Morse
A CCORDING TO THE limited information I’d uncovered online, Carol Renee Landry was an eccentric hermit worth 1.2 billion dollars. Her home, a 4.5-million-dollar lakeside mansion, was located near Joint Base Lewis–McChord. She came from old money and married an Army staff sergeant named Henry Eugene Landry, who’d grown up on a soybean farm in Iowa. They were married for fifty-three years before Henry died of a heart attack thirteen years ago in May. Their only child, Eric Eugene Landry, born when Carol was nearing forty, had taken over his mother’s family business and was now one of the biggest real estate moguls in the country.
It was all public knowledge if you knew where to look, and I’d collected almost no personal data on Carol. A deeper dive into her information would require resources I wouldn’t access without club approval or an immediate threat to life, as per the agreement I’d signed when Link had made me a prospect. A day might come when I’d have no choice but to break our contract, but gathering information about a military widow was not the hill I would lose my home on.
Because that’s what the club was. Home. The only one I’d ever known.
Prospect Jed leaned forward in his seat and breathed entirely too close to my ear. I gritted my teeth, annoyed. I’d followed Link’s orders and resisted the urge to run even the most basic internet search on the interloper. Primarily due to the watchdog software on my computer that even I could not circumvent. I’d been the one to insist on the software since unchecked power was dangerous, and when it came to the World Wide Web, I was basically Galadriel, offered the one ring of power. As honorable as my intentions might be, I could easily become a cyber servant of darkness.
So, yeah. I’d hobbled myself. As a result, I knew nothing about the guy currently sitting behind me, at my fucking back once again. I hated leaving the club at all, especially with some asshat I didn’t know. Specks wasn’t much better since he kept asking questions about Amelia that were none of his damn business. The only positive thing about this trip was the casserole dish in my lap, making my mouth water.
We stopped at the community gate and gave our names to the guard. He picked up a receiver, mashed a few buttons, and called it in, screwing up his face when someone on the other end confirmed that Mrs. Landry was, in fact, expecting three male visitors by the names of Specks, Morse, and Prospect. I couldn’t blame him. In his shoes, I would have demanded IDs and the car registration. Even without our leather cuts, we didn’t exactly fit the mold of respectable businessmen who belonged in an upscale neighborhood. My beard was clean and trim, but Specks looked like a nutty professor with thick, round glasses and a wiry, chest-length beard. Prospect’s five-o’clock shadow was patchy and looked more like dirt than hair. We were all three dressed in worn T-shirts, jeans, and motorcycle boots. Had we ridden our bikes, the guard likely would have shit himself. Instead, he warily opened the gate, using his phone to snap pictures of Specks’s eleven-year-old Audi as we drove by.
Following the navigation, Specks turned onto a long, paved driveway that cut through a thick copse of trees. The drive circled around the front of a massive three-story red brick, colonial-style mansion with an attached three-car garage and multiple outbuildings partially camouflaged by the forest-like landscape.
Parking in front of the garage, he turned off the engine and took in the scene. “Refresh my memory. Why the hell is Amelia’s non-profit feeding this woman?”
“She’s a military widow. Black Lace Rations is about companionship more than food. Mrs. Landry might be loaded, but Angel says she’s lonely.”
Specks’s eyebrows shot up. “Angel?”
“Amelia.”
Shit .
Pissed at myself, I glared at Specks, daring him to say something, which was probably the worst course of action to take because his lips stretched into a shit-eating grin, and his fucking eyeballs laughed at me. “That’s the nickname you’re having put on her cut tomorrow, isn’t it? Rabbit was right. You are into her.”
“Rabbit needs to shut his trap and worry about himself. Just a slip of the tongue.”
“Yeah. Sure. Bet I know right where you want to slip your tongue.”
In response, I raised my fist between us and extended my middle finger.
Specks laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, brother. I get it. The ass on that woman?—”
My blood boiled, and my skin caught fire. An emotion I hadn’t felt in a long-ass time threatened to overwhelm me. I liked Specks. But at that moment, I was a heartbeat from gouging his goddamn eyeballs out for objectifying Amelia.
“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that,” I spat.
Specks stared at me like my mouth was foaming, and I was threatening to slip my leash.
But this was Amelia, and I was serious. “I mean it.”
He slowly raised his hands in surrender, his expression still wary. “My bad. I underestimated your relationship.”
This wasn’t about a relationship. She was a human being. A mom, a widow, and the best person I’d ever known. “She deserves our respect.”
Specks nodded. “I get it, brother. Sorry.”
I wished he’d share whatever he thought he ‘got’ because I was so twisted up inside nothing made sense anymore. Hell, I’d just flipped out on my brother for speaking the truth. Amelia did have an incredible peach. The number of times I’d gotten myself off to images of her fully clothed backside was downright pathetic, yet I’d called him out for being disrespectful.
Feeling like a goddamn hypocrite, I climbed out of the car, casserole in hand. Specks and Prospect followed, and we approached the mansion as a group.
A nurse wearing floral scrubs answered our knock and led us through an open foyer, past a stuffy, formal living room, and into a surprisingly rustic, cozy study. Built-in shelves overflowing with books monopolized two entire walls, stretching from the floor to the fifteen-foot-high ceiling, accessible by sliding wooden ladders. Fire crackled from a custom brick fireplace that wasn’t even the room's focal point. No, that privilege belonged to the exterior wall’s massive picture window that displayed a postcard-worthy view of the lake.
Carol Landry was nestled under a pile of crocheted blankets atop a pale pink upholstered armchair in front of the fireplace. Rheumy steel-gray eyes focused on me from beneath a silver, slightly crooked chin-length bob that had to be a wig. Tubes circled her ears and pressed into her nose, whirring oxygen from the tank beside her chair.
Lips pursed, she took my measure before saying, “You’re quite the looker, aren’t you?”
Huh?
Straightening my back and pretending her wealth, disease, and age didn’t unsettle me, I approached and made introductions. When I reached Prospect, I hesitated, not wanting to introduce him as his station instead of his name and look like an asshat. The club lifestyle made little sense to outsiders. Besides, we didn’t want anyone connected to Amelia to know we were bikers.
Thankfully, Prospect stepped forward, grasping her hand. “Jedediah, but my friends call me Jed, ma’am.”
I didn’t back up to give them room, instead watching him like a hawk. The diamond tennis bracelet around Carol’s wrist likely cost more than my bike, and Prospect could be a thief for all I knew. Specks cleared his throat to get my attention, and the amusement playing at the corner of his mouth made me scowl. He’d had a normal childhood and, like the others, gave me hell for studying every prospect under a microscope.
“Time for brunch then,” Carol announced.
She struggled forward in her seat. The nurse who’d shown us in was waiting beside her chair and now rushed in to unhook the oxygen and help Carol escape the blanket pile. She stood, wearing a pale pink tracksuit that couldn’t entirely hide the significant weight loss caused by the cancer. Seventy-four years old and five and a half feet tall, she was little more than skin and bones. Despite her frail frame, fire burned behind her eyes as she batted away the proffered arm of her nurse. It was easy to see that this woman might have one foot in the grave, but the other was packed with lead and perseverance.
Something about my expression must have given away my thoughts because she raised her chin, met my gaze, and said, “You don’t look at me with pity.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “No, ma’am. You have nothing but my respect.”
The nurse offered Carol her arm again, but those steely gray eyes didn’t leave mine. “My new friend, Morse, will assist me.”
The nurse’s lips flattened like it was all she could manage not to argue, but she backed up. I handed the casserole dish to Specks and stepped forward to offer my arm. Thin, crepey fingers slid over my forearm, and her arm hooked my elbow. I held perfectly still, letting her settle herself before slowly following the nurse into a formal dining room. The staff had already set the table with carafes of coffee, assorted juices, and fresh fruit. Carol’s nurse draped a sweater over the high-backed chair at the head of the table. I helped Carol into the chair, settling her onto the cushion before taking the seat on her right. Specks and Prospect sat opposite me.
A fancy silver spatula waited beside the coffee carafe, so I used it to serve the casserole, first dishing up Carol’s plate. I didn’t know shit about rich people’s meal protocol, but her pleased smile assured me I’d done well. Three forks rested beside my plate, so I waited until she made her selection and followed suit. Specks and Prospect took their cue from me, the goddamn blind leading the blind.
Once the first bite landed on my tongue, all thoughts of etiquette and propriety fled. Amelia was a master of comfort meals, and this breakfast had always been my favorite for a reason. Expertly seasoned fried eggs and cheesy potatoes loaded with chunks of crispy bacon, bell peppers, and onions. Flavor exploded over my tongue as I dug in like it was my last meal. Damn, I’d missed her cooking. She’d probably make me something if I asked, but it wasn’t my place to make that type of request.
I was halfway through my meal when something struck my shin. Biting back a curse, I looked up to find Specks watching me expectantly. He nodded toward Carol, who was studying me like I was a starving animal she’d rescued, fed, and didn’t know what else to do with. It was time to pretend I had manners and strike up a conversation, so I chewed, regretting the huge forkful I’d stuffed in.
Thankfully, Specks stepped in and helped me out. “Thank you for allowing us to dine with you today, Mrs. Landry,” he said.
“It’s always nice to have company. Though I would have preferred Amelia.”
Specks and Prospect shared a look that said, can you believe this woman?
I swallowed my bite, not offended in the least. “Understandable. In your place, I would, too. Amelia would have come if it was possible.”
Carol pinned me to my seat with a heated glare that belied her infirmity. “Then why isn’t she here? What have you done with her?”
I floundered for an answer. I’d expected the first question, but the second one threw me for a loop.
A cell phone vibrated, the sound audible in the silence. Carol’s scrutiny continued to pin me in place, so I didn’t move to check the phone in my pocket. The buzzing stopped.
“We don’t have permission to share Amelia’s personal business,” Specks said, once again throwing me a lifeline.
“I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it next time she sees you, though,” I added, softening his excuse.
The buzzing started again.
Was someone trying to reach us? Was Amelia in trouble? Unease tightened my shoulders and socked me on the chin. Ignoring Carol’s piercing, unsatisfied gaze, I pulled my phone from my pocket, but as suspected, I wasn’t the one buzzing. Neither were Specks nor Prospect who did the same. As a group, we turned to the woman at the head of the table, who seemed bound and determined to ignore the interruption.
Carol’s glare didn’t waver. “And when will I see her again?”
The buzzing stopped, only to start right back up.
What was going on? Amelia said the woman had no friends, yet someone was insistently trying to reach her. Who? Why?
“I believe your phone is ringing, Mrs. Landry,” I said, unable to ignore the sound any longer.
Finally, she looked away. Confusion clouded her eyes. “I don’t hear any ringing.”
“It’s buzzing. On vibrate.”
“Oh.” Turning in her seat, she rummaged through the pockets of the sweater the nurse had hung on the back of her chair, only to give up when the ringing stopped.
“I’m sure it’s not important.” But the tightening around her eyes and lips told me she knew more than she was letting on. Settling back in her seat, she picked up her fork, and the buzzing started again.
“Someone seems desperate to reach you.” I stood, ready to assist. “It might be an emergency. Can I help you find your cell?”
“No,” she snapped. “Sit and finish your meal. I’m not dead yet, and I can find my own damn phone.”
I hesitated momentarily but sat when she tugged the cell from the sweater’s pocket. She glanced at the screen and promptly turned the phone off, stuffing it right back into the pocket from which it came.
“No emergency and no more interruptions.” She turned that steely-gray gaze back on me. “My Amelia told me you stayed with her and Ted for a time before joining the Air Force, Morse.”
Who was on the goddamn phone?
Why are you changing the subject?
The mystery was killing me, but I bit back the question and played along. “Yes, ma’am.”
“My Henry was a soldier.” A fond smile played on her lips as she turned to my companions. “Did you both serve as well?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they answered in unison.
“Thank you for your service.” She lowered her fork to eyeball each of us, one by one. “By the way, I should warn you, my staff is nearby and ready to intercede if needed. Try to sell me something, rob me, or act inappropriately, and I’ll scream rape and have you arrested.”
Specks and I shared a what-the-actual-fuck look across the table.
“Don’t look so shocked,” she continued. “The elderly are taken advantage of daily, and as my Amelia says, I am not the one. If you three have kidnapped her….”
Specks, who was mid-sip, sputtered coffee all over his plate.
Prospect choked on a bite.
Being accused of a crime must have been a first for them, too.
“Excuse me, what?” I asked.
Carol only raised her chin. “It’s time to get down to business. What sort of ransom will it take for me to get her back?”
Ransom?
“She called ahead and told you to let us in,” I pointed out, leaning on logic to get us out of this mess.
“You could have forced her.”
I’d had enough. Assassins were coming for Amelia. I didn’t have time for this crotchety old woman’s bullshit accusations when I should be back at the fire station hunting down the person who’d sent them.
I rose to my feet, dropping my napkin on my plate. “Excuse me, ma’am. We won’t waste any more of your time.”
Specks’s eyes widened, but he and Prospect joined me. Nodding my thanks for their solidarity, I turned to march around the table, but Carol’s hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist.
“Wait.”
I met her gaze, letting her see my irritation. “For what? I won’t sit here while you throw dirt on Amelia’s name.”
A protest formed on Carol’s lips, but I cut her off.
“She would never put your life in danger. That’s not the type of person she is. If we were holding her for ransom, there’s not a thing we could do to force her to call you and ask you to let us into your home.”
Amelia was nothing if not loyal, and hearing anyone claim otherwise—especially this woman she’d been so concerned about—made my blood boil.
Carol considered me for a handful of heartbeats before huffing out a breath. “I suppose you’re right. Is she at least safe?”
Relieved, I nodded. “Yes. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
A uniformed maid rushed in, holding up a cordless house phone. “Excuse me, Mrs. Landry. Mr. Landry is insisting on speaking to you and?—”
When she reached the table, Carol snatched the phone from her hand and spoke into the receiver. “I am currently indisposed but will call you back at my earliest convenience.”
Then she ended the call and handed the phone back to the maid, who stared at her in stunned silence.
Mrs. Landry shot her a glare that would make a decorated general piss their pants. “You may leave now.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” She scampered off.
Mrs. Landry started getting up, so I helped her out of her seat before offering her my arm again.
She hooked her arm in mine and paused long enough to catch her breath before patting my biceps with her free hand. “Now. Amelia promised me a game of chess. Take me back to the study and show me what you’ve got.”
Despite the what-the-fuck-is-going-on looks Specks and Prospect kept throwing in my direction, I complied. When we reached the study, an antique wooden chessboard was set up and waiting for us. I took one look at the intricate hand-carved pieces before excusing myself to wash my hands.
When I returned, Specks and Prospect lingered by the giant windows, staring at the view. I took the chair across the chess set from Mrs. Landry and studied the board, scooping up my wooden queen to admire the craftsmanship. It wasn’t a traditional piece. Instead, the carved woman, garbed in a long crimson dress under a matching fur-lined cloak, was hand-painted with a level of detail I struggled to comprehend. She had eyelashes, for fuck’s sake. Returning the queen to the board, I admired the rest of the pieces. My side was garbed in red and black, and Carol’s pieces wore shades of yellow and blue, each in impeccable condition.
“Gorgeous set.”
“Yes. It’s a one-of-a-kind Ottoman Empire set. There are replicas out there, but my Henry commissioned this set directly from a highly sought-after Turkish craftsman he met while deployed. Win, and it’s yours.”
This woman had just accused us of being schemers, robbers, and kidnappers, and now she was offering up a prized chess set. Hand to heart, I will never understand women. I didn’t respond, but had no intention of winning or accepting the prize.
The nurse returned, hooked Carol back up to her oxygen tank, and dumped a pile of pills into her hand. Rather than blindly popping them into her mouth, Carol scrutinized each one before individually stuffing them between her lips. She washed them down with a glass of water before shooing the nurse away.
“Go. Clear out and leave us in peace.”
The maid finished setting up the tea service next to the chessboard and then scurried away.
When the help left, Carol sighed. “Vultures, the lot of them. They keep circling, waiting for me to die.” She grinned, and there was a twinkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “But not today.”
I couldn’t help but grin back. “No, ma’am.”
“Morse, be a dear and get me the little black book from the table by the bookshelf.” She gestured in the direction.
I stood and approached the coffee table in the corner. “The one with a cross on it?”
“Yes.”
Hoping she wasn’t about to preach at me, I scooped up the Bible. It was heavier than it looked, and when I handed it to Mrs. Landry, she placed it beside her teacup. She opened the book, removed an antique flask from the cut-out pages, and poured the contents—whiskey, if my nose wasn’t mistaken—into her teacup.
Equally concerned and amused, I asked, “Are you sure you should have alcohol?” At her sharp intake of breath, I added, “Considering your medications?”
“Dying of cancer is a painful experience. I have no intention of doing it sober.” She took a healthy gulp of her spiked tea before gesturing at the board. “Now, quit stalling and make your first move before I expire right here.”
* * *
A few hours later, a slightly singed antique chess set under one arm, my brothers and I arrived back at the fire station.
“I’ve never seen anyone win and lose simultaneously,” Specks said as we walked down the hall. “Especially not you.”
I frowned and flipped him off, though he wasn’t wrong.
Already frazzled by my duel with Carol, I stopped dead in my tracks when Amelia’s familiar laughter drifted down from the mess hall. Specks didn’t acknowledge my reaction, continuing on his way, but Prospect paused, casting me a quizzical look.
Amelia would want to be debriefed on the Rations Run, but going to Carol’s put me behind schedule, and I still had to finalize plans and pick up supplies for her appointment tomorrow. For that reason—and not that I was avoiding her—I gripped the chess set, waved off Prospect, and headed for my office.
If I told myself that enough, I might even fucking believe it.