The Innocent: The New Ryan Lock Novel Page 10

  Having sent their housekeeper home for the evening, she had busied herself making dinner for the two of them. She called Aubrey into the dining room and asked him to select a bottle of wine to go with the lamb.

  As he did that, she ferried the food from the kitchen, and began to serve. Aubrey looked exhausted. The poor man.

  She started when the doorbell rang. They weren’t expecting company.

  ‘I’ll get that,’ offered Aubrey.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, taking off her apron, and walking into the hallway. She skirted the sweeping staircase and made for the front door. She was slightly annoyed that the guard hadn’t alerted them to their visitor. That was his job after all.

  No matter, she told herself. She’d speak to him in the morning about it. Without a guard on duty, she would have asked who it was before opening the door. But with him out there, she assumed the person had already been spoken to. Most likely it was one of her friends. Aubrey’s friends had disappeared from sight since word of the allegations had begun to circulate. Gretchen, however, had never been more popular. Or that was how she explained the continual offers to talk from friends she suspected were more interested in getting some salacious details from her.

  With her best smile fixed to her face, she opened the door. ‘Good evening, and how may I help you?’

  She froze as the gun came up and smashed into her face. She felt her front teeth splinter, and tasted blood in her mouth. Black shapes swam in front of her eyes. She felt lightheaded. The pain of her hair being grabbed and pulled snapped her back to the present.

  She was punched in the stomach. She doubled over. The pain was overwhelming. She had never been hit in her entire life, never mind hard.

  She began to cry as fear overwhelmed her. Where was Weston? Where was her husband?

  ‘What do you want?’ she said, through blood and tooth enamel. The pain from her mouth was excruciating, worse than being hit in the stomach. She thought she was going to throw up or pass out. She prayed she would pass out.

  Her attacker didn’t say anything. She found herself being spun around, her arms forced behind her back. She heard the rip of duct tape, then felt it against her skin as her wrists were bound. A hand reached around and spread across her face.

  ‘What the hell is going …’

  Aubrey Becker stood in the hallway, a glass of red wine frozen in his hand. He seemed to take in the damage that had already been done to Gretchen. He stepped forward.

  ‘She has nothing to do with this. Leave her alone.’

  Gretchen was pushed to the ground hard. The attacker stepped over her, and walked slowly toward Aubrey, who began to back away slowly.

  Gretchen kept waiting to hear the crack of a gunshot, but the attacker put away the gun they were holding, reached into their jacket and pulled out a knife. It must have been about eight inches long and was shaped like a hunting knife. At the sight of it, Aubrey Becker’s glass slipped from his hand, the red wine splattering over the tiled floor.

  The phone. There was a phone on a small side table. If she could only reach it. Slowly, her body racked with pain, she got to her feet. She started toward the phone. The attacker was still bearing down on Aubrey.

  She snatched the phone from its base, punched in 911, and put it to her ear, only to hear dead air. A second later, she heard her husband start to scream. It was a wild, high-pitched sound. It went on for a long time. When the screaming stopped, it was her turn.

  Thirty-six

  Most of the dinner crowd had cleared out of the diner. Ty picked out a booth, away from the window. He sat with his back to the wall, and a clear view of the entrance. He scanned the menu. He wasn’t that hungry, but he knew he had to eat.

  The waitress came over. She looked to be in her late teens. He guessed she was probably a college kid. He ordered the cheeseburger with fries, and a cup of coffee.

  ‘That everything?’ she asked him.

  ‘That’s it. Thanks.’

  He handed over his menu. Two campus cops walked in. They stood at the counter, bullshitting with the older waitress and one of the cooks. One was older, with a shaved head and a gut. The other was younger. Both were white. The younger one had checked Ty out as soon as they had walked in. Ty didn’t think much of it. When you were a six-foot-four African American who looked like he did, old ladies avoided meeting your eye and cops checked you out. The younger cop glanced back at him.

  This time Ty met his gaze, hoping he would say something or come over. These were the cops who had ignored Malik. For all Ty knew, one of them, or both, might already be aware of what had happened to Malik’s family. Hell, they could have pulled the trigger.

  Cops were a sore subject between Ty and Lock. Lock knew there were bad ones, but he saw the police as fundamentally decent. Growing up where he had, Ty was a little more jaded. He had long ago given up arguing about it. People’s experiences were different, and the biggest determinant in the country was skin color, even with a black president in the White House — hell, especially with a black president. You didn’t get over hundreds of years of history and shared distrust with a couple of elections.

  The younger cop kept staring. Ty started to get up. The waitress brought his coffee and he eased back into his seat. He thanked her. The younger officer had gone back to his conversation. The moment had passed. He called after her, ‘Excuse me?’

  She walked back to his table with a smile. ‘Yes, sir?’

  He took in the diner with a wave of his hand. ‘Seems kinda quiet.’

  ‘Yeah, I think most of the reporters are down the street.’ He must have looked puzzled, because she added, ‘There’s a bar. McGill’s. Your cheeseburger shouldn’t be too much longer.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  The cops were hitting the door, both carrying doggie bags. The waitress came back with his cheeseburger. As he started to eat, his cell rang. He was hoping it was Malik but the screen flashed Lock’s name.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Ty.

  ‘I’m on the road. Should be with you in about four hours. Can you stay alive and out of jail for that long?’

  ‘In this town? It’s fifty—fifty, brother.’

  ‘So what’s going on?’ Lock asked.

  Ty brought him up to speed with what he’d found at the house, what the neighbor had said and how it contradicted the story the cops were putting out. He also told him that he was certain Malik was alive, but didn’t go into detail in case the line wasn’t completely secure.

  Lock listened in silence.

  Finally, he said, ‘Hey, Ty?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Small towns run by cops are never good news. Be careful, you hear me?’

  ‘I hear you.’ Ty killed the call. He turned his attention back to his plate of food, but pushed it away and signaled for the check.

  Thirty-seven

  As Ty took the short walk down the street to McGill’s, he saw the two cops from the diner sitting in their patrol car, watching him while making a big show of eating. Ty acted like they weren’t there and pushed through the doors of the bar. The waitress had been right. The place was packed solid, the college crowd pushed out by a bunch of reporters and TV producers.

  Ty moved toward the bar. People shuffled out of his way, and he had no trouble finding a spot. He waved a twenty-dollar bill in the direction of the two harried staff. ‘Bourbon. Double.’

  ‘Real drink, huh?’

  Ty turned to see the cute blonde woman he’d spoken to in the diner that morning standing behind him. ‘Can I get you something?’ he asked her.

  ‘Well, I’ve been standing here trying to order for the past ten minutes.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut in,’ said Ty.

  ‘Don’t sweat it. But I’ll take a beer. Heineken. Although technically I shouldn’t be drinking. Might have to go back in front of the camera if something happens.’

  When the bartender came back with his bourbon, Ty added the beer to his order. ‘You
think it will?’

  She looked up at him. She had big brown eyes. Man, she was even cuter up close, he thought. ‘Honestly? No. I think this guy is lying dead in his car somewhere and that’s all she wrote.’

  Ty felt a twinge of anger at the way she’d said it. He had to remind himself that misery and human suffering were her job. They were often his job too. The only thing that differed was that this time people close to his heart were involved. To find Malik he had to park whatever feelings he had.

  ‘And you think that because?’

  ‘Isn’t that usually how these things go down?’ she said.

  The barman came back with their drinks. Ty told him to keep the change, and handed the reporter her beer. ‘So, you’re guessing?’ he said.

  ‘Thanks.’ She took a sip of beer, closing her eyes while she savored it. ‘Educated guess. I must have covered half a dozen of these deals by now. Guy goes crazy, kills his wife and kids. They usually put a gun in their own mouth. Too scared to face the music, I guess. And come on! Retired ball player? Those types are usually the worst.’

  Ty looked at her. If she’d been a guy, then right about now she’d have been flying halfway across the bar from a punch. Instead he took a sip of bourbon. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said. ‘He loved his family.’

  She shrugged. ‘Hey, you asked my opinion. Who are you with anyway?’

  ‘With?’ asked Ty. She had obviously taken him for a reporter. He looked around the crowded bar. ‘I’m not with anyone.’

  ‘So what are you doing here?’

  He took another sip of bourbon. He was going to have to make it last. He planned on driving back out to the Shaw house later to try again to find Malik, and he didn’t want to give the local cops an easy DUI collar.

  He looked at the woman standing with him. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘Kelly,’ she said, putting out her hand for him to shake.

  ‘I’m Ty. Short for Tyrone. Listen, do you want to take a ride with me?’

  She raised her eyebrows, then her glass. ‘Hey, I don’t know what one beer gets you where you’re from …’

  Ty smiled despite himself. ‘Not like that.’

  Thirty-eight

  Ty started the engine as Kelly scooted into the passenger seat, and shut the door. He buried the gas, and Kelly was thrown back in her seat. She grabbed the dash to steady herself. ‘If you kill me and dump me in a ditch, my mom is going to be so pissed at me. I just want you to know that.’

  ‘Noted,’ said Ty.

  They headed down the main street. Ty hung a left, heading for the Shaw house. He wanted a reporter to see what he had. He figured it was insurance in case the cops got really hinky with him.

  ‘So, private security, huh? What does that involve?’

  He glanced over to see the red light of Kelly’s digital recorder. ‘Turn that thing off or I’m gonna toss it out the window,’ he told her.

  She made a big show of clicking the off button, and jamming it into the pocket of her jacket. She had turned it back on. He was sure of it.

  ‘Off-off,’ he said. ‘In fact, take out the batteries and give them to me.’

  She sighed, pulled the recorder back out, and dumped the two AAA batteries into his open palm. He hit the button to lower the window and tossed them out.

  ‘Hey!’ she protested.

  ‘I’ll buy you some more. What were you asking me?’

  ‘What do you do?’

  Day to day, Ty didn’t give it a lot of thought. He doubted most people did. It was hardly a regular job in the commonly understood sense. But it did have its routines and patterns, especially when he and Lock were involved in a straight-up close-protection gig, like the one they’d been doing in New York. You ran walking drills, you moved people in vehicles using well-grooved embus/debus procedures, and you had a plan for actions on attack. ‘Lemme see. We protect people. Only we’re not the cops.’

  ‘Like bodyguards?’

  Empty streets swept by outside. Everyone tucked up inside watching TV, having a late dinner or putting their kids to bed. Lock hated the word ‘bodyguard’, but Ty understood it was just a shorthand for most people.

  ‘Kind of like that,’ he said.

  ‘Who are you guarding here?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Right now?’ said Ty. ‘No one. I’m looking for someone.’

  ‘The same person the cops are looking for?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Ty, pulling in across the street from the Shaw house. ‘You want to get yourself an exclusive?’

  She looked nervous. Ty killed the engine and got out. Kelly followed him across the street and down the side of the property.

  Thirty-nine

  Ty opened the back door that led into the kitchen. He turned. Kelly was standing outside. ‘Okay, for a “private security consultant” I met in a bar, you are seriously starting to freak me out.’

  ‘I can drive you back there, if you like. Up to you.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘You want this story or not?’ he said, stepping into the kitchen.

  She walked across to the door. ‘I already have the story.’

  He went over to the dishwasher and pulled it open. It was empty. Ty felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He looked at Kelly as she came into the room. ‘No, you don’t.’

  Ty closed the dishwasher and walked through into the hallway. ‘Malik? Malik, it’s me, Ty.’

  He was met by silence. ‘Malik?’

  He could see Kelly standing in the doorway. ‘He’s here?’ she whispered, natural curiosity obviously trumping her fear. Ty raised a hand to quiet her.

  He started up the stairs and began to check the bedrooms. They were empty. A closet door was open. Ty was sure it had been closed when he had been here earlier. Moonlight filtered in through the windows. Clothes were strewn on the carpet.

  He heard footsteps behind him. Kelly stood in the hallway, her eyes fixed on the bloody wall. ‘This where it happened?’

  Ty straightened up. ‘Yeah, except it didn’t go down like the cops are saying. Come here.’

  She moved deeper into the room.

  ‘See the blood?’ said Ty.

  She nodded.

  ‘Cops said it was a shotgun Malik had just bought. Which explains the blood, except there would have been a lot more and it would have been spread out further. Plus they were lined up, and killed here, like ducks in a row.’ He glanced over to make sure she was listening. Her eyes were wide. She seemed fixated on the wall. He kept going: ‘Cops are telling a different story entirely. Saying how they were killed in their rooms. Not room, rooms. Like Malik went to where they were sleeping and killed them one by one. And that’s not even getting into how he wouldn’t have hurt his family. Hell, he never even spanked those kids. Not even once. Didn’t agree with it.’

  Now she was looking at him. ‘How do you know? People do weird things all the time.’

  ‘I know because I grew up with him. He was my friend.’

  ‘That’s why you’re here?’ said Kelly.

  ‘That’s why I’m here. And it’s how I know this story about Malik murdering his own family is bullshit.’

  ‘So if he didn’t, then who did?’ said Kelly.

  ‘There’s a lot more going on. A lot that people don’t know.’

  ‘Hang on. I have a call.’ She pulled out a cell phone from her bag, and listened. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll be right there.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Ty asked her.

  Kelly looked around the room. ‘Can you give me a ride?’

  Forty

  Three blue police sawhorses blocked the road that led to the Becker home. Ty lowered the window of the Audi as a young patrol cop ducked his head, rain splashing off his hat. ‘Road’s closed, sir. You’ll have to turn around.’

  Kelly leaned over from the passenger seat. ‘You can let us through.’

  The patrol cop nodded. ‘Sorry, didn’t see you there. Parking’s next to the front entrance. Of
ficial statement is in a half-hour.’

  ‘You got some pull, huh?’ said Ty, hitting the button to close the window. Two cops dragged the middle sawhorse back and the Audi nudged its way through the gap.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, they weren’t going to let us in till they saw you.’

  ‘Everybody falls for a pretty face,’ said Kelly.

  Ty parked next to a couple of other vehicles. ‘Thanks for the ride,’ she said. She put her hand on the door, ready to get out. ‘I’ll see you around.’

  ‘You going to look into what I showed you?’ Ty asked her.

  ‘Sure,’ she told him. ‘I’ll talk to some people. See what I can find.’

  Ty sat and watched the rain bounce off the road. He wasn’t going to wait for the official statement. He already had an idea what the story was going to be. He reversed, turned and drove toward the roadblock.

  The cops moved the sawhorse and he drove through. He rang Lock.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said.

  ‘You found him?’ Lock asked.

  ‘Not yet. You see the news?’

  ‘About Becker. Yeah. You think it was Malik?’

  Ty hesitated. If Becker had been behind the killing of Malik’s family, it was possible that Malik had taken revenge. More than possible.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Silence settled between them.

  ‘Okay. Well, I’m almost there. Just about another thirty miles to go. Tyrone?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Regardless of whether he did or not, we need to find him. And fast.’

  ‘I know.’

  Forty-one

  There was a hairbrush next to the washbasin. Malik picked it up and turned it over in his hand. The bristles were tangled with Kim’s long dark hairs. There was some of Katy’s too. At bedtime Kim would brush Katy’s hair. When she was done Katy would insist on brushing her mom’s. Sometimes Malik had watched them as they did it. The closeness they’d had was beautiful. Now it was gone.