Take the Key and Lock Her Up Page 8

  As soon as Devlin and Austin headed out of the lobby, Emily headed up to her desk to ship the DNA kit to the state lab. When she stepped out of the elevator, Tuck motioned to her from across the squad room. Two other detectives were with him, and they were all looking at the computer monitor on Tuck’s desk. From the excitement on their faces, she knew something big must have happened.

  Since Tuck’s desk was beside hers, she set the DNA kit on top of her own desk before joining the others.

  “What are we looking at?” she asked.

  Tuck waved toward one of the other detectives. “This genius used the sex, height, and approximate age information from Kennerly’s preliminary autopsy notes to look for a match in the missing persons report database—which, I might add, has digital copies of dental records for each missing person to assist with identification. This other genius was assigned to find Carolyn Buchanan’s last known address.” He picked up a folder on his desk and flipped it open to reveal a drawing of a young woman. “And I had the fun assignment of sitting with Hawley while she worked with the sketch artist. While you spent the past hour flirting with Devlin Buchanan, the rest of us were getting a boatload of work done.”

  The other detectives snickered. Emily narrowed her eyes in warning until they sobered. “Say that to me one more time, Tuck. Don’t be surprised when you end up with your ass on the floor.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. I couldn’t resist. Here”—he pointed to the screen—“take a look at what we’ve found.”

  She leaned over his shoulder and read the relevant parts of the report on the screen as he rolled the cursor over them. Then he scrolled down and pointed. She blinked and reread the conclusion.

  “Wait, are you sure about this?”

  “Yep. Kennerly was just up here and made it official. You must have just missed him.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Now who’s the amazingly fast and brilliant detective on the team?”

  She waved to the two men standing behind him. “These guys.”

  The detectives laughed and headed back to their own desks. Tuck shot her an irritated look. “Admit it. For once, while you were off chasing a dead end, the rest of us were chasing down real leads.”

  She sat in her chair and eyed the DNA kit. “I admit it. You did good. Really good. All of you.”

  “And?”

  “And you’re an amazing, fast, brilliant detective. There. Happy?”

  He hooked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Yep. And since you’ve been kind enough to stroke my ego, I’m going to do something for you. Next time your family of doctors calls to rub their accomplishments in your face, I’ll get on the phone and brag about you so much that they’ll have no choice but to finally accept your chosen career path.”

  “Yeah, that’s never going to happen. But just to keep you straight, in case you ever do talk to them, only my dad and my oldest brother are doctors. Mom’s a nurse. The others are an EMT and a physical therapist.”

  “Wait.” He held up his fingers. “Dad, mom, and only three siblings. I thought you had four.”

  “I do. My baby sister is a housewife.” Without looking at him, she held up a hand to stop him. “Before you say it, she also won the Nashville Volunteer of the Year award.”

  “Oh, please. I’m sure she didn’t do anything all that spectacular. Winning the award could just be a fluke.”

  “Three years in a row?”

  “Ouch.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not in competition with them.”

  He snorted.

  She ignored him and picked up the DNA kit. “Guess we don’t need this anymore.” She dropped it in the wastebasket.

  “Who gets to break the news to the Buchanans?” he asked, his teasing tone gone.

  “I will,” Emily said. “Just as soon as I make a call. It’s been on my mind, and I want to call before it gets too late today.” The windows on the other side of the room were growing dark as night fell. “If it isn’t already too late.” She pulled the phone closer to her.

  “Too late for what?”

  “To call EXIT Incorporated. Colorado’s three hours behind us, right?”

  “Two. What is EXIT?”

  “I’ll explain later. But for now, let’s just say that I’m not convinced I was chasing a dead end when I interviewed Devlin Buchanan. He may not be the one who abducted and killed those women, but he’s definitely hiding something, something that links him to the crimes. And I’m going to find out exactly what that is.”

  DEVLIN WAS ABOUT to get into his truck in the police lot when Austin rolled down the passenger window of his van and called him over. Devlin leaned into the opening. “What’s up?”

  “You sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” Austin asked.

  “I’m sure. Go home and eat that steak you’ve been whining about. I have to return a call that came in while I was in Montana. I’ll be just a few minutes behind you.”

  “Don’t take too long. I can’t guarantee your steak will be waiting for you.” Austin grinned good-naturedly and backed out of his spot.

  Devlin hopped in his truck and waited until his youngest brother was heading down the road before punching in his boss’s number. Since he hadn’t planned on calling Cyprian when he’d left the house, he didn’t have one of his satellite encryption phones whose numbers were registered with EXIT with him. Those phones ensured no one could pick up their conversation off the airwaves. Since he wasn’t calling from one of those phones, Cyprian wouldn’t recognize the number on caller ID. Devlin would have to identify himself by punching in a special code. And even then, they’d both have to be careful what they said, knowing the line wasn’t secure.

  When the line clicked, he typed in his code.

  “Devlin,” Cyprian’s smooth, cultured voice came on the line. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy for a few days between tours. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  So far, so good. Cyprian didn’t sound upset. Maybe news of this afternoon’s incident hadn’t reached him.

  “There’ve been a few hiccups here. I was a witness to a crime. Had to answer a few questions. But that’s over now. It’s handled.”

  A pause, then, “Hiccups. Pesky little things. But as long as you’re certain it’s handled, I’ve got no cause to worry. Correct?”

  “Correct. No cause at all, sir. Detective Emily O’Malley may call EXIT to verify details of the Montana tour with the Rands. But that’s the end of it.”

  “I’m sure human resources will take care of the call, or forward her to one of our public relations specialists. Shouldn’t be a problem. Anything else I should be aware of?”

  This was where it got tricky. Cyprian wouldn’t want Devlin looking into Carolyn’s murder. He wouldn’t want anyone from EXIT Inc. caught up in a police investigation. Devlin understood the concerns. It was necessary to insulate EXIT Inc. from all suspicion. But this was something Devlin couldn’t let go. He wanted closure for his father. And he didn’t have time to wait for the police to methodically cross and dot their t’s and i’s on their way to solving the case. He needed those autopsy notes. They might give him a clue, a starting place to search for Carolyn’s killer.

  “No, sir, there’s nothing else you need to be aware of. That’s it. Oh, wait, there is one more thing; a request, actually,” he added, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve had any real time to spend with my family, and I’ve got a young niece I’ve hardly seen since she was born. Is there any chance I could take a week of vacation before reporting in for another assignment?”

  Another pause. “Of course, of course. You’ve got plenty of time built up. I’ve got a sweet, midwestern couple with a bucket list, and they insist on the best guide I’ve got. Naturally, I recommended you. But I can reassign them. No worries.”

  Midwestern couple. More likely a Middle-Eastern contact with something far different than a bucket list in mind. �
�Sounds great, sir. I appreciate it.”

  “Hold on a second. My assistant is trying to call me on the other line.” A few moments later, he came back on the line. “Sorry about that. Looks like your detective already tracked me down through human resources. She must be a real bulldog to have gotten through several departments and then to get my secretary to put her through directly to the top.”

  The blood drained from Devlin’s face, leaving him cold. “You’re going to speak to her yourself?”

  “I’m always happy to assist law enforcement. She wants to speak to the CEO, she’ll speak to him. She’s on the other line. I don’t want to keep her waiting. Enjoy your vacation.”

  The line clicked. Devlin lowered his phone and stared at the brick wall of the police station. O’Malley was speaking to his boss, the man who ran the public side of the organization, as well as the secret side. That wasn’t something Devlin had expected. He’d figured she would be schmoozed by one of the lower-level assistants and that would be the end of it. Once again, she’d surprised him.

  And not in a good way.

  What would she say to Cyprian? She wouldn’t say something crazy, like bringing up her assassin theory. Would she? If she did, would Cyprian see it for what it was, a detective with a wild hunch based on nothing but conjecture? Or would he think her theory was based on fact, which could only mean that Devlin had caved during the interview and betrayed his boss and everyone he worked with?

  If Devlin had talked, he would have used the term enforcer, his actual job title. Enforcer was somewhat synonymous with agent at one of the alphabet agencies like the CIA or FBI, but without the shackles of laws and political policies to tie him down. The assassin role was only part of what he did, and only when absolutely necessary. Most of his peers called him “The Enforcer” because he was the one called upon to hunt down other enforcers if they went rogue—off the grid, defying orders—and became a danger to EXIT and the general public. Since O’Malley wouldn’t have known to call him an enforcer when she spoke to his boss, wouldn’t that clue Cyprian in that she was reaching? Guessing? What if it didn’t? What if he believed her?

  The potential consequences of that had him swearing every curse word he knew, in several languages.

  He believed in what the company stood for, in what he did. The money was incredible. He regularly pulled in seven figures in any given year. And he had to admit that had been part of the attraction when he’d joined. But he couldn’t do what he did if he didn’t feel deeply that what he was doing mattered. He saved lives with the work he performed. Last year alone, he and his fellow enforcers had prevented dozens of terrorist attacks that would have killed hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people in half a dozen domestic cities, not to mention the attacks they’d foiled in foreign countries. And fighting terrorism was only one small aspect of his work for EXIT. So the idea that his boss might even consider that Devlin would ever betray his fellow enforcers was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? Right now, he didn’t know what to think.

  He opened the photo app on his phone and zoomed in on the notes from the morgue. Kennerly had given an extremely detailed, somewhat clinical assessment of each prison cell and the condition of the skeletons that were found in them. Most of it was useless to Devlin and didn’t offer him any clues. But at least now he knew the victims were all female, between the ages of thirty and forty. That struck him as odd, given that Hawley seemed much younger, probably barely in her twenties. If the victims were from the same killer, wouldn’t they be in the same age range? It seemed like he’d heard something like that about serial killers—if that’s what this was. Too bad he couldn’t ask his brother Pierce for his opinion. Pierce used to hunt serial killers for the FBI before he burned out on violent crimes and chose to work on cases that wouldn’t haunt him every night.

  Devlin filed the information about Hawley away in case it was a clue that could help him in the future. Unfortunately, right now, even after reading Kennerly’s notes, he had exactly what he’d started with—absolutely nothing—except the new concern about what O’Malley was saying to Cyprian.

  He sat in his truck for a few more minutes, debating his next move. But without more information, there seemed to be only one move that made sense. Stick to routine, do what was expected so he didn’t raise any red flags. Which meant he’d go to Alex’s house and pretend everything was fine, that he didn’t have any reason to be worried, that he was happy and normal like everyone else. He’d been pretending that for years. What was one more night?

  Chapter Seven

  * * *

  FRIDAY NIGHTS AT the Buchanan home base—the sprawling one-story ranch house where Alex and Austin lived—were usually a time of laughter and fun. No matter what each of the family members was doing during the week, it was understood that Friday nights belonged to their father. Unless there was a damn good excuse, each son was expected to be at Alex’s house to grill steaks on the back deck.

  Too often these days, the excuses were racking up. Obligations at work or a teething toddler, in Pierce’s case, meant that only half the family was there on most Friday nights. But tonight everyone was in attendance. It should have been a night of good food and shared stories, especially since twelve-month-old Nikki was already settled in her port-a-crib in one of the guest rooms. But the gruesome discovery in the basement of an abandoned house had put a dark pall over the entire gathering.

  Alex had insisted everything proceed as usual, except that he’d held the dinner hour to wait for Austin and Devlin to get back from the police station. As Devlin sat at the long dining room table and took a bite of steak, he glanced at Alex at the head of the table. Pierce’s wife, Madison, tried to keep up a normal conversation with Matt’s new bride, Tessa. But Alex resisted any attempts to draw him into the exchange. He was silent, his eyes downcast, his plate of food untouched.

  Devlin washed down a half-chewed piece of steak with a healthy swallow from his beer bottle. Today called for something much stronger than beer, but Alex would frown on that. Devlin leaned toward his oldest brother, Braedon, sitting on his left.

  “Has he been like that since he got home?” Devlin whispered.

  “Pretty much. He explained what had happened at the police station, and about those poor women you found in that basement, and that you saved that young mother from her abductor.” He lightly squeezed Devlin’s shoulder and gave him a crisp nod, as if to thank him for being a hero.

  Devlin returned his nod, feeling like a total hypocrite as he did so.

  “After that,” Braedon continued, “Alex announced dinner would wait until you and Austin got here. But he hasn’t said much of anything else since.”

  In spite of Austin’s quip to O’Malley about wanting to get back to his food, he hadn’t eaten any more of his steak than his father. Instead, he stared at Alex, his mouth getting tighter and tighter. He finally shook his head and dropped his fork to his plate with a loud clatter, startling Tessa beside him.

  Alex’s head shot up and he looked questioningly at his youngest son.

  “I don’t get it,” Austin said. “Why are you so depressed about this? She dumped you. She dumped all of us. It’s been twenty-one freaking years, Dad. Get over it already.”

  Devlin rose from his chair, prepared to haul his brother out of the dining room and kick his ass, wheelchair or not.

  Alex aimed a stern look at him. Devlin hesitated, but respect for his father had him sitting back down.

  “That’s a fair question.” Alex’s deep-blue gaze landed on each of them before returning to Austin. “I loved your mother deeply. For eight years we built a life together, and my love for her grew every day. She may have stopped loving me by the end of our marriage, but that didn’t change my feelings for her. It might seem silly to you, but I’d always hoped that she would finally find the right person for her, someone who could soothe her troubled spirit, make her happy. All these years I kidded myself with the fantasy that she was happy. And now, to find out she was . .
.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I’m grieving, son. Not for my loss, or yours, or even for your brothers’. I’m grieving for how Carolyn must have suffered. No matter what she did to you, to me, to us, she didn’t deserve to be locked up like an animal and tortured and . . . killed. That’s why I’m sad. The woman I loved was murdered. And for the first time, my vow of ‘till death do us part’ really hits home.” He pushed back from the table and stood, his eyes suspiciously bright and watery. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a devil of a headache and am going to go lie down.”

  After Alex disappeared down the long hallway, everyone turned an accusing glare at Austin.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You’re doing the dishes.” Matt rose from his seat on Austin’s left. “By yourself.”

  Austin’s brows drew down, but he didn’t argue as everyone else left the dining room, not even bothering to clear their dishes as they normally would.

  Devlin took pity on his brother and helped him clear the table and clean the kitchen while the others gathered in the family room. They worked in companionable silence together, Devlin rinsing the dishes in the sink and handing them to Austin to load in the dishwasher. This wasn’t the first time they’d ended up helping each other with chores. In spite of their nine-year age difference, the two of them had always been close. It wasn’t that way with his other brothers, not like with Austin.

  Devlin had very few memories of life before becoming a Buchanan, but the few he had weren’t good. His mother had died when he was three. His father married Carolyn just a few months later. She’d brought Braedon and Pierce with her from prior marriages, but they were thirteen and nine. He couldn’t blame them for not wanting to play with a four-year-old. But he’d never felt more alone.

  A year later, his father was dead and Carolyn had married Alex. His new dad did everything he could to make Devlin feel loved and wanted, but Devlin resisted Alex’s efforts for years. He supposed he was trying to protect himself for when Alex died, or left, like his other parents had done. He assumed Carolyn would end up carting him off to a new father, and he’d have to start all over again. When that didn’t happen, he’d slowly begun to warm up to Alex. It had taken years for him to feel like part of the family, and to become friends with his older brothers. But he’d never truly fit in, and that feeling had followed him through school, and later to college. It was one of the reasons he’d been such a good candidate when EXIT offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse.