Chapter 33
Bradford
Jenna Kellan.
“Kellan.” The last name slips out of my mouth, as I stare at her, hovering over the computer. “You’re Cade’s…” My voice trails off as I take in the shape of her face, which is rounder than Cade’s.
But the nose. The shape of her eyes.
She’s too young to be his mother.
“His sister?” It comes out of my mouth in a titillated way.
“Cade’s older sister,” she says quietly. “By six years. He’s technically my half-brother.”
“Different mom?” I drop my gun, my head fucking spinning. First, I thought she was NCIS, now, she’s someone completely different.
“Different dad, actually,” Jenna lets out a sigh.
“My dad skipped town before I ever knew him. My mom met Monty Kellan when I was three. They got married, had Cade, and then adopted me.” Her voice is quiet, and as much as I want to fucking hate her for all the lies, I find myself drawn to the vulnerability in her eyes now.
“Once he adopted me, and Cade was about seven,” Jenna’s eyes grow distant as she continues, “Things got really…weird. Monty would drink a lot. Him and my mom would have atrocious fights, he’d beat up on all of us, and Cade won’t confirm it, but I think that’s when his abuse started for him.”
It clicks in my brain. “Monty was a chomo?”
“He liked his own son,” Jenna’s voice drops. “And no one knew. My mom didn’t know. I didn’t know. Cade didn’t come clean about until the summer of…”
“The house fire,” I follow her, my mind flashing back to the file. “He killed his father.”
“I think my mom helped,” Jenna mumbles, plopping down into the desk chair and resting her head in her hands. “I’m not sure though. I was home from college, and Cade told me what happened to him.” She looks away from me, a tear rolling down her cheek. “And then the boat fire.”
“Sam Morris.” I state the name, suddenly seeing everything fucking different. “What did he do to you?” A protective pulse thrums in my chest when she won’t look at me, even if she lied. Even if she’s the biggest fucking liar I’ve ever met.
“He wasn’t that bad,” Jenna frowns. “He called me a bitch once. Cade heard it, and that was it, I guess. I thought it was an accident. He told me today that it wasn’t.
” She lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head.
“I should’ve known, honestly. I really should’ve.
I was in denial. He’s not okay.” She brings her gaze to mine.
“I was obsessed with finding him. I couldn’t reconcile it in my brain, Cal. ”
“Your brother has to want to get better,” I say, putting my gun back in my belt and crossing the room to her. I can’t fucking take it. I kneel down beside her, the storm in her eyes no longer a goddamn mystery. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, Jen.”
Fresh tears slip down her cheeks. “I hate what happened to him.”
“Me, too,” I place my hands on her knees, and then my gaze flick upwards, catching a hint of purple around the base of her neck.
What the fuck is that?
I narrow my gaze at it, and she seems to follow, her hand flying up to the spot. “What is that, Jenna? What happened? That wasn’t there last night.” It’s fucking stupid, but I still care. Even more now than before.
“I found Cade,” Jenna’s tears suddenly stop. “He was in the middle of one of those strange manic stents. They don’t happen often, and I’ve only seen it once before today.”
My jaw tenses, anger burning in my chest. “He touched you.”
She frowns. “Yeah. He didn’t know it was me.”
“No fucking excuses.” I stand to my feet.
“They’re going to catch him,” Jenna says, her voice blank, “And then they’re going to give him the death penalty.”
“No,” I correct her. “I can’t let that happen. It’ll ruin my entire operation.”
“Operation?”
“Yeah,” I meet her gaze. “I can’t afford to lose my contracts.
Confusion fills her face. “With construction?”
“With killing people. Bad people, mostly, though I quit keeping a record of who was deserving of what they got.”
Jenna purses her lips together, as if she’s processing what I just said. If it bothers her, she doesn’t say it. Instead, she gestures toward the living room. “So, what do we do with him?”
I take a long, deep breath. “We fix it, Miss Kellan.”
She eyes me, and I see the hesitation there. “I… I’m sorry I lied.”
My gaze rakes over her, from her disheveled blonde hair to her sad blue eyes and her askew sweater and jeans. “Honestly, I like you better like this.” I can’t stop the soft smile on my face. “I was never really into the academic type.”
“I never finished my English degree,” she blurts out, as I pull out my phone and start making arrangements. “I worked as an account manager for mechanic shop near my mom’s place, and worried about Cade. I never invested in myself.”
“You should’ve,” I state. “You’re intelligent, and you had me fooled.”
“You knew something was off.”
“Yeah, but I’m a little paranoid,” I mumble.
I head back to the living room and kneel by Mark, two fingers at his carotid once more. Thready, but steady. I tip his head back, check his airway, ignore the wet, sticky spit pooling at his cheek. He’s only got head injuries.
So, we should be able to do this cleanly.
I do quick math in my head. Mark is six-one, maybe 180, but in his current state, dead weight. If the plan is to move him, to make this scene look like something else, I'm going to need leverage, or better, a second set of hands. I look at Jenna.
Her eyes are rimmed red, lips pinched. She’s had probably the worst day of her life. It’s hard to say, but now that I know who she really is, I know she’s exactly what I need her to be. And fuck, I just want her more.
Which is a good thing, because she’s about to witness a crime.
I hear a floorboard creak in the hallway, a soft thump, then a muffled voice—ex-wife, maybe on the phone, maybe talking to herself.
“Maren,” I call out, loud enough to carry but not so loud it draws attention from outside. “I need your help.”
She appears in the doorway, mascara slightly askew, a weird calm on her face. She’s not surprised by this, she’s always known. She doesn't flinch at the blood, doesn't ask if Mark is dead. Instead, she sighs.
“She’s not taking it well.”
I wince, shaking my head. “Then you stay with her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Make sure she knows that he’s fine. He at most had a minor concussion.”
Her expression hardens. “But we’re not going to leave it at that, are we?”
“I can’t. I can’t risk it.”
“They’ll just keep sending more,” Maren’s voice is blank. “Though, I won’t let them get this close. This was on me. I should’ve vetted him better.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that.”
She nods, and then disappears back to comfort our daughter. I hear her voice through the wall. It’s the same tone she’s always used with Molly when she’s upset.
I turn to Jenna. “We’re going to move him,” I instruct. “But first, I need to check something.”
She just nods.
I prop Mark up, reach into his jacket, and pat him down. He's got a phone, a wallet, and a badge. NCIS. I show it to Jenna, just to watch her reaction. She doesn't blink. She already knew. She’d already been here and gone through his things.
I slide the phone open, thumbprint. There's a message thread at the top.
Control: Update on Kellan?
Mark: None. But getting close.
I put the phone and badge back into his jacket pocket. “He wasn’t as close as you thought he was. My guess is that he was still just digging.” I pause, and then nod toward the office. “Go through the rest of his stuff. Make sure nothing else is going to point to us.”
She takes a deep breath, and the does exactly as I ask her to.
I look around. There's blood on the table leg, on the carpet, on the tile. Some is still wet. I start with the bleach wipes, working the blood from the grain. I think about how easy it is, how practiced, how it feels less like hiding a crime and more just like another day.
Jenna comes back with Mark's keys, a receipt, and a folded piece of paper. “There’s not much. Mostly surveillance. I left the photos. None were incriminating.”
“Then all the more reason for him to take a drive to the farm in the middle of the night,” I say. “He left here, wasn’t paying attention. Lost control, head trauma. No witnesses. No foul play.”
Jenna frowns. “What about Molly? She’s never had to do something like this…”
I shake my head. “She never saw him. She was in her room. You and Maren were in the kitchen. I was in the garage. No one heard anything. I was upset with you, because you lied to me about who you are, so I made you come here to tell the truth.”
She looks at me like she wants to argue, but instead just sighs.
“You got a better plan?”
“No,” she nearly whispers. “But they’re going to keep looking for Cade, Cal. They’re not going to stop.”
“I know, but that won’t be a problem when he’s not here.” I don’t expand on that, but I do know that I won’t feel a fucking ounce of sympathy when I pull that trigger. Not after the purple necklace he gave her.
She might be his sister, but from the moment I fucked her in that parking lot, she became mine. No matter who the fuck she really is.
I stand, wipe my hands, look at Mark. He stirs, just as there’s a sharp knock on the front door. I head for it, ignoring the look on Jenna’s face. I pull the door open, and in walks Turner, looking exhausted and confused.
“I can’t find him,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “He was close—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I cut him off. “We have to deal with this first.”
I turn to the hallway. Maren is back, arms crossed, face locked down. “Molly’s asleep,” she says. “She doesn't remember anything past dinner. She didn't see what happened. She understands.”
I nod. “Good. Now you go upstairs, the less you know the better.”
“I know the drill,” she hums, and for a second, I see the woman I fell in love with—the woman who could keep a secret, even if it killed her. But it’s brief. She’s not for me. She’s not fucked up enough. My eyes flick back to Jenna.
And my fucking chest tightens. I might do whatever it takes to keep her.
“You're going to drive his car,” I say. “Three miles south off this road toward the farm. Park it by the old water tower on the north side of the road. There’s a steep embankment there. Be careful, because it’s slick. Turner and I will meet you there.”
She looks at Mark, then back at me. “This is fucked up.”
“If you have a better plan—”
“No.” Jenna rolls her eyes, her sass going straight to my cock, even in the middle of a shitshow like this. “I’ll head that way.”
“Good. We’ll be right behind you.” As she leaves, I turn to Turner, who’s still taking in the entirety of the scene.
“This is a fucking mess.”
I breathe out, and then meet his eyes. “Yes. It is.”
And it’s not about to get any better anytime soon.