As he listened to whoever was on the other end, his frown deepened. “They couldn’t have waited?” He turned around and reached for the remote, his eyes on the television. “Thanks for the heads-up, Stephen. I’ll call you back.”
“What is it?” And why did Brady have the sinking feeling that he didn’t want to know?
Solomon just gave him a grim look. “How the hell do you turn up the volume with this thing?” he demanded, holding up the remote.
Ken took it from him and pushed a button so they could hear the voiceover accompanying footage of a hotel entrance roped off with yellow crime scene tape.
“Three men were found dead this morning in a downtown hotel room in an alleged double murder-suicide,” the woman reported. “One of victims has been identified as thirty-year-old Calvin Grimes, a political consultant who worked most recently for local Senator Stephen Finn. The names of the other two victims, both males, have been withheld pending notification of next of kin. Police aren’t releasing any details about the crime scene, but sources close to the investigation tell us Grimes appears to have shot the other two victims before turning the gun on himself. Senator Finn’s office has released a formal statement from both the senator and his wife, expressing shock and offering condolences and prayers to the families of all the victims.”
“Jesus.” Brady’s legs gave out beneath him and he sank into the couch. “This can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening,” Solomon said grimly. “I was waiting until you’d gotten the Wahls safely on their way to tell you. No need to add to their anxiety.”
Brady looked over at Ken, thinking he looked like a statue. Like he wasn’t even breathing until he said, “When? And who are the other two?”
“The call came in before dawn,” Solomon told him. “They’ve been identified as Anthony James and Edward Vargas.”
“Holy shit, Vargas?” Brady ask, his voice rising in disbelief. “Heavyset guy with a beard?”
Solomon nodded. “And their names are basically the only personal information we have on them. Someone’s done a very thorough job of whitewashing their histories. Deleting, actually. After the things Stephen said at dinner the other night, I was expecting Brady’s name to come up when we started digging into Grimes, but there was nothing—no texts, no emails, no phone calls. Hell, Stephen told me the picture of Brady on Grimes’ desk has been replaced with that James boy’s.”
Brady was in shock. The Slaver’s Club had gotten rid of that much information in one night? He didn’t know anyone other than Ken that could do that. That was a lot of damn trouble to go through to create their narrative. To make Calvin Grimes look like a murderer.
Obviously he’d been right about Cal being a fall guy, but he hadn’t realized how far they were willing to go. Vargas and Grimes were dead. He’d bet the third guy was that poor soul Vargas and Cal had in the back room. Who was going to send sympathy to Anthony James’ parents?
“They’re cleaning themselves out of the room,” Ken said in a quiet, emotionless monotone. “Sweeping their way out the door so no one knows they were here.”
He sounded so tired that Brady wanted to carry him back to bed until this news blew over.
Solomon agreed. “The place where we found Wahl was owned by Vargas and there’s nothing in there that ties it to anyone or anything else. With Grimes and Vargas dead, we’ve got nothing.”
Ken rubbed his temples. “Brady was right. They gave me Terry so I’d back off. They gave Brady a pass so I’d know what they are capable of. What Cal texted and the pictures and videos he sent to Brady in the last few weeks was salacious enough to fill the newspapers for months. Brady would have been dragged into this story and hounded by reporters. They decided to give him a pass. And they wanted me to know how easy that was for them.”
“That was my thought.” Solomon nodded.
Ken’s laugh was bitter. “They got rid of the two men I used to find Terry. To find them. I’d be willing to bet the club is shut down by now too. They are a well-oiled machine, aren’t they?”
“They could have killed you,” Solomon offered grimly. “You, Terry and my brother.”
“They won’t touch me,” Ken shook his head absently. “Those connections I have? They wouldn’t risk it.”
“We’ll find them,” Brady promised, fueled by rage at this new injustice. “We know a few of their names, and I’ll never forget their faces. Men that wealthy? With facial recognition we could track their every move. Plus, we know there are other clubs and—”
Solomon grabbed Brady’s arm and shook it. “You move on them again over my dead body. Do you hear me? You are out of this as of now, Brady. Do you understand what’s happened? Is it even registering in your brain? They killed three men without hesitation just to prove they could. From what you told me, they kidnap people and assault them, just because they can. They let you go. They took you out of the equation for whatever reason and that is where you’re going to stay. Out.”