Likely Suspects (30 page)

The nex
t morning, I woke up to find Martin still holding me securely against his chest. Embarrassment flooded over me as I saw things in a much more rational light. It had all been a nightmare, likely brought about by my recent trip through Martin’s decimated residence. The armed men, who I thought were trying to kill me, had been the protection detail responding to my screams.

“Oh g
od,” I muttered, rolling onto my back and covering my face in my hands. This did not need to be happening.

“You know, it’s a lot more
common to hear those words screamed out in ecstasy when I’m in bed with a woman. Not to mention, there is always a lot less clothing involved.” He rolled onto his side to face me.

“Oh my g
od,” I repeated. My face flushed, and I was certain I was bright red.

“It’s still missin
g a certain oomph,” he teased, “but we can work on it another time, when I can use both of my arms.”

“Shut up.
” I slowly pulled my hands away from my face. “I am
so
sorry about last night. I just. I don’t. I…” Words were not cooperating. I got out of bed, trying to distance myself and regain some semblance of professionalism.

“Hey.
Calm down.” He was trying soothing since joking had clearly led to my currently frenzied state. “You had a nightmare. It’s not a big deal.” He gauged my reaction as I hastily flipped through the clothes hanging in my closet, just for something to do. “Plus, now we know the protection detail is actually doing more than watching football and eating pizza.”

“Oh g
od,” I repeated again. I was going to have to apologize to them for the commotion last night too.

Martin
laughed. At least someone found this whole thing amusing. “I’ll leave you alone now.” He unsuccessfully tried to hide his laughter as he got out of bed.

Once he was gone
, I slumped onto the bed. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” I muttered. Get a grip, Parker. Nothing horrible actually happened, and given the nightmare, waking up in his arms completely embarrassed was definitely preferable to my subconscious alternative. Perhaps I was overreacting. It wasn’t like we
slept
together.

Selecting
the most dignified outfit I could find, I spent as much time in the bathroom as possible, showering and dressing, just to avoid the situation a little longer. When I emerged perfectly coifed and looking the part of security consultant, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Job interview?”
He gestured to an empty seat at the table. He had ordered breakfast and was already halfway through his.

“No,” I replied cautiously, “just hoping to keep the one I’ve currently got.”

He shrugged away my comment with a wave of his fork. “I wouldn’t worry about it. The guy you’re working for isn’t too unreasonable.” He was referring to himself in the third person. “It makes him feel better, knowing he’s not the only human in the room.” He dropped the joking. “Are you handling this okay?” he asked sincerely.

“Nig
htmares come with the territory, but usually, I’m in the privacy of my own home.” He looked thoughtful. 

“I’m glad you w
eren’t this time.” I didn’t know what to make of the comment, so I chose to ignore it and dove into my breakfast. Before I even made a sizable dent, there was a knock at the door. I got up, checking the peephole. It was Thompson and O’Connell.

“Just in time for breakfast,” I
said, opening the door and gesturing them inside.

Thompson glanced at his watch.
“It’s almost lunchtime.”

“No breakfast for you then.”
I went back to the table, and O’Connell helped himself to a cup of coffee. As I resumed eating, the two detectives sat down.

“What brings you here this fine morning, or should I say afternoon?” Martin as
ked. Despite his last conversation with O’Connell, he was trying to be friendlier.

“Everything okay here last night?” O’Connell asked.
“We got a call about a disturbance, which was promptly followed by another call saying it was a false alarm.” My cheeks began to heat up, and I ducked my head down, staring intently at my plate as I continued eating.

“Just peachy.
” Martin’s friendly tone just turned venomous. “I’d prefer if, in the future, you didn’t traumatize my security.” I sighed and put my fork down.

“You okay, Parker?
” O’Connell asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I interjected.
I didn’t need Martin fighting for me, especially when I had willingly agreed to go back to the house.

“It paid off though,” Thompson remarked, defusing t
he tension. “The information you provided was enough to encourage the two paramilitary types to concede on a few of the finer details. Needless to say, if you shake the tree hard enough, you might get more than a couple of coconuts.” I was intrigued and alternated my glances from Thompson to O’Connell, waiting for one of them to elaborate.

“This is all strictly need to know.
We can’t discuss an ongoing investigation, which I’m sure you’re both well aware of,” O’Connell provided his disclaimer. “So I can’t tell you these freelance mercenaries were hired, not only for the hit at Martin’s, but also for the kidnapping, bombing, and subsequently, the not so accidental murder of Denton’s ex-girlfriend.” Martin looked shocked while I searched my memory for the missing puzzle pieces.

“Jill?” I asked
, dumbfounded by the revelation.

“Jillian Monroe, the
bombing casualty,” Thompson chimed in. “Obviously, not so casual. We ran background on her. She used to strip under a different name, so we did some digging and found the connection between the two. Apparently Denton had been a frequent visitor to the club where she worked. We ran with some photo IDs and verified she was Denton’s one and only. Her phone records indicated she received a text message from a burner cell earlier that morning asking her to meet Denton out front. Financials and corroborating testimony from our favorite paramilitary mercenary group and…,” Thompson was delighted.

“You got him on
multiple counts of conspiracy and murder.” I stole the big reveal. 

“It looks that way, but we can’t really say
. It’s all official police business,” O’Connell continued. “So, I’m not telling you we have Denton for a laundry list of crimes from murder to conspiracy to B&E. The state plans to throw the book at him.”

“Then
it’s over?” Martin asked, his posture becoming more relaxed in the chair. I was sure he was already planning on going back to work the moment O’Connell gave him the all clear.

“It looks that way.
Give us some time to verify he has no other private accounts we haven’t uncovered, and no one else has been paid to make your life miserable,” Thompson told him.

“What about Griffin?” I asked.
Not all the loose ends were explained yet. “Was she a professional hit?”

O’Connell and Thompson exchanged a look.
“We’re still working on it. The mercs deny they were hired to do it. Maybe Denton did it himself, but we haven’t been able to identify or locate the murder weapon,” O’Connell admitted.

I was trying to think.
Denton’s prints, along with Griffin’s and Jackson’s, were on the box. “Any prints at my place?” O’Connell shook his head. “If there’s a secondary contract killer, that might be who carried out the hit on Griffin.” O’Connell looked solemn.

“Do y
ou think Blake will talk?” Martin asked. The cops looked at him as if he were mentally impaired.

“Not much incentive.
We’ve already got too much on him. If he’s half as smart as he seems to be, he’ll keep his mouth shut and deny everything,” O’Connell replied. Thompson and O’Connell got up to leave, and Martin thanked them for their time and hard work. I walked them to the door.

“After hearing about last night, I don’t think
you need a gun right now,” O’Connell quietly told me. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small object. “Just promise you won’t electrocute my guys.”

“I’ll do my best.
” I shut the door and looked at the taser. It wasn’t much, but it’d work in a pinch.

Martin was fighting with his pill bottle.
Opening it, I handed him back the container. “It seems like things are coming to a close.” He swallowed his pill, looking positively ecstatic.

“It’s getting there,” I said noncommittally.
“They need to solve Griffin’s murder before you go traipsing back to work. So I would suggest you use this time to finish recovering. It’s only been about a week since you had surgery.” My heart leapt into my throat, and I swallowed. “Just give it some more time.” He agreed, acknowledging his own limitations.

*       *       *

I spent most of the day contemplating the murder of Suzanne Griffin. Griffin had been a part of Denton’s plan. She had left the MT building before the explosion with various means of transportation away from the city and away from the scene of the crime. Denton had been with her at the B&B, and both of their prints were on the box recovered from my apartment. It seemed reasonable to assume Griffin had informed Denton who I was and why I was working for Martin, which led to him paying Jackson to take the photos.

All of the pieces
fit nicely, but why kill her? Maybe it was because she knew too much, and her loyalties seemed fickle. My guess would be if Martin had batted his green eyes at her, she would have caved and confessed to everything. Did Denton kill her himself? I thought about my nightmare with Denton holding the assault rifle. Real-life Denton would be just as willing to pull the trigger, especially given his predilection for hiring people to do it for him. The only problem was finding the weapon.

I was pacing the length of our hotel room, from my bedroom to the kitchen
, when I noticed Martin was asleep on the couch. He had tired himself out by spending the bulk of the day calling Marcal and lining up contractors and architects to meet with him in the next week. He hoped to begin repairs on his compound as soon as possible. The fact that he was asleep now was just another indication he was not ready to go back to work, and he still needed more time to properly recover. Hopefully, he realized this and didn’t overdo it too soon.

In desperate need of an
escape from my thoughts and the confines of the room, I opened the door and slipped into the hallway. Now was as good a time as any to apologize to our protection detail. I knocked on their door, and one of the guys answered, grinning.

“If it isn’t sleeping beauty,” he joked.

“I just wanted to thank you for the prompt response last night.” I stared at the floor. “I um…it’s….” I looked up at the cop.

“We get it,” his partner said from inside the room.

“Okay.
” I turned on my heel, ready to retreat.

“Just for
clarification, if we hear screams, but no one entered the room, should we still come busting in?”

“Might as well, just to be o
n the safe side.” The guys were willing to obey my request, and hopefully, they wouldn’t be inadvertently tazed for their trouble.

After last night,
Martin deserved a chance to get some sleep without me disturbing him, so I stayed outside our room, pacing the length of the hallway. In the middle of my pacing, the elevator dinged, and a maid exited. The protection detail emerged and checked her and the cart to make sure everything was kosher. She cleaned their room and asked if we needed anything. We were okay, so she headed back to the elevator.

The entire exchange reminded me of the surveilla
nce footage of my office being broken into. There was a thought gnawing at the corners of my brain once again. I went back into my shared hotel room and slumped in the chair. Martin was still sound asleep, but my brainstorming wouldn’t wake him up unless he was telepathic.

The break-in at my office occurred at least three d
ays before Griffin was murdered. So why was I convinced the janitor’s cart and the missing murder weapon were linked? My brain must not be working properly, I thought as I stared at the upholstery and picked at a stray thread. Going into my room, I shut the door and phoned O’Connell.

“Did you check Denton’s
office?” I asked.

“Yeah, we didn
’t find anything.”

“Did you check Griffin’s office?”
He was getting agitated.

“You
know, they don’t hand out detective’s badges based on good looks alone,” he remarked.

“Did you check h
er other office?”

“What other office?”

“The one on the fifteenth floor, next to Denton’s.” With extension 325, but I kept that to myself.

“We’ll
check it out,” he promised, but before he could hang up, I continued with the last few remaining thoughts I had formulated.