And when his phone chimed with a text message — Come back to the house. We have a lead — it felt like maybe, maybe, they were finally reaching the end.
Chapter Twenty-three
They were ridiculously overdressed for the jail, but the plan was to go straight from the Men’s Central Jail near downtown LA to dinner at Cut 360, a five-star restaurant located just down the street from Stark Tower. After that, they’d either crash at the Tower Apartment or head back to Malibu.
Considering the girls would both be fast asleep by the end of the evening, Damien was thinking that a night alone with his wife in the apartment sounded like an exceptionally fine idea. One night away from the chaos. A morning with coffee and quiet. Just the two of them and a few exquisite minutes where they could forget the drama that was swirling around them.
“Damien?” He looked up, startled to find Nikki looking at him. “Where were you?”
He cupped her cheek. “With you, baby. Always.”
Her eyes warmed, and he knew she understood when she responded with a small, almost secret smile.
“They’re late,” Charles said, glancing at his Rolex. “You’d think a prison would be more prompt. They operate on schedules, after all.”
“Hot date?” Nikki teased.
“As a matter of fact … no.”
Beside him, Nikki burst out laughing. Charles rarely joked. And Damien wasn’t sure if his levity was a good sign, or an indication that they were so far through the looking glass that the normal rules didn’t apply any more.
Damien had wanted to bring Ryan or Quincy, but the lead they were following was the statement of Rory’s cellmate, who’d faked a hot appendix in order to get sent to the infirmary so that he could get a message to the prison investigators without any of the other inmates knowing. He’d insisted that he’d talk only to Damien, his wife, and his lawyer.
And that talk was supposed to have started fifteen minutes ago.
“You don’t think…” Nikki trailed off. “I just mean, when we ended up waiting for Rory…”
“No,” Charles said firmly, and Damien seconded the thought. The possibility that this informant had also been shivved before he could tell them anything was too horrible to entertain.
“He’s probably just—”
The rattle of a heavy door being opened on the hall interrupted Damien. A moment later, they heard footsteps, then the key in the lock of the interview room door. A few seconds later, the familiar investigators stepped inside, a balding middle aged man with a pallid face stumbling between them, his hands cuffed together.
“You Stark?”
Damien nodded. “And you are?”
“Tim Blankenship. Used to own a garage. Now I’m working in the fucking laundry.”
“I’m sorry if your skills aren’t being well utilized,” Damien said evenly. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“Not a goddamn thing,” Tim said. He looked over his shoulder. “Just thought Heckle and Jeckle there could maybe find me a sweeter gig.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you know, and I’ll think about putting in a good word.”
“Sure, man. Sure. I can do that.”
He fumbled to pull out a chair, then sat. Charles and Damien sat across from him, and though Damien indicated the seat next to him for Nikki, she shook her head and moved across the room, standing and watching Tim from a distance.
“Right. So I bunked with him. Not long. He wasn’t here but, what? Just shy of a week? But he was a quiet guy. Leastways at first. After a couple of days he started talking more.”
“What did he talk about?” Charles asked.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Charles Maynard. I’m Mr. Stark’s attorney.”
“Right.” Tim’s head bobbed. “That’s cool. And the piece?” He nodded toward Nikki.
“That’s my wife, and I suggest you show a little respect.”
“Hey, I’m the one’s got the information.”
“And I’m the one with the money and the power to make your life miserable if I don’t like the tone you take with my wife. Are we clear?”
“Fuck you. Whatever.”
“Tell me what you know and, as I said, I may be able to make your stay more hospitable. Turn into a pain in my ass, and I assure you that working in the laundry will be the least of your problems.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever. Anyway, he started making noises about someone on the outside. Worried about them.”
“Someone who meant him harm?” Damien asked.
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. He wasn’t making a lot of sense, honestly. Not even really talking to me. More like he was working something out in his own head, you know?”
“Did he say anything specific?” Charles asked. “Names, places? Anything at all?”
“Not so much. Said he had to keep his head down and his mouth closed to make sure she was okay. That she was taken care of and no one dropped the ball.”
Damien caught Charles’s eye. That was an interesting tidbit.
“She?” Damien repeated. “Did he tell you anything about this woman?”
“Not a thing. He just kept saying he had to keep his head down. He owed it to her. That she deserved better. Shit like that. Guy was quiet at first, but then honest to God, he was bugging in here. I mean, like the guy was not liking the bars for walls thing, you know? And I was seriously worried about his kidneys and his bowels, ’cause, man, that dude couldn’t handle flashing his junk in public, you know what I mean?”
“I think I get the idea,” Damien said dryly.
“He said that Stark would fix it.”
“He said that?” Charles asked. “What were his exact words?”
“What? Like I’m a walking tape recorder? I just remember that he said that Stark would fix it. That’s it. That’s all she wrote.”
“And you have no idea what that means.”
“Not a fucking clue. You’re Stark, right?” He aimed his bloodshot eyes at Damien. “What’s it mean to you?”
“Unfortunately, nothing,” Damien admitted.
“But that’s not my problem, right?” Tim asked. “I mean, I’m relaying valuable information. Ain’t my problem if you don’t know how to dis-interpret it. Am I right?”
“You’re as eloquent as you are smart,” Damien said. “And I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to improve your situation. We really do appreciate the help, however cryptic it might be.”
“Man, whatever.”
The officers led him back to his cell while a prison liaison escorted Damien, Charles, and Nikki back to the main reception area.
“There’s some woman he’s been taking care of,” Nikki said slowly. “And someone else was looking after her when Rory was in prison.”
“Makes sense,” Charles said. “Said he had to keep his head down. That he didn’t want anyone dropping the ball.”
Damien nodded thoughtfully. “But there’s no reason I would care—no incentive for me to step in and fix it—unless this woman and her caretaker were somehow related to Anne’s kidnapping.”
“He took the fall in exchange for someone promising to watch after his wife?” Charles suggested. “Girlfriend? Then he changed his mind and decided to get help. From you.”
“Not a wife. A foster sister,” Damien said, remembering what Bree had told them over the weekend.
“We know he was giving money to a foster sister,” Nikki explained to Charles. “We just don’t know who or why.”
“Well,” Charles said pragmatically. “I think we need to find out.”
* * * *
The waiter finished clearing the dessert dishes, then topped off Damien’s coffee, his expert gaze surveying the other five people at the table. “Will there be anything else?”
“I think that will do it,” Damien said as Bijan raised his hand, signaling for the waiter to bring him the check.
“Absolutely not,” Nikki said. “Everyone knows the client doesn’t pa
y. That’s what billable hours are for,” she added, with the perfect combination of humor and firmness.
Damien rested his hand on her thigh, his smile full of pride. She’d attended many business functions with him, but this was one of the few at which he was the extraneous party. And it had been absolutely delicious to sit back and watch his wife so competently handle the table. And so elegantly share the spotlight with Abby and Travis, making sure that Bijan and his husband, Laurence, knew that Abby was a partner in more than name only. And that Travis’s tech skills brought significant value to their products.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered, sliding his fingertip along the hem of her skirt as he leaned over for the small pitcher of cream.
“I had a good teacher,” she replied, making him grin.
“I’m so glad you were available this evening,” Bijan said. “It was a whirlwind trip for Laurence and me, but I wanted to take the time to tell you how pleased everyone at Greystone-Branch is with your work.”
“I’m always happy to make time for you. Especially when such lovely compliments are involved.”