Page 14

CHAPTER 14

Caitlyn (Cat)

I wake to the delicious smell of coffee and bacon. I’ve never smelled it in the apartment before. Mel must be cooking an extra-large batch. I snuggle deeper into the fluffy pillow.

Reality hits and I bolt upright. This isn’t my threadbare bed and pillow. This is luxury. The low timber of a known voice seeps into the room and vague memories wash over me.

Baylor demanding that I throw the game. Leaving the team. Stumbling into a car. Turk saving me. Warm, comforting arms wrapped around me. The best sleep I’ve had in years. Sitting up I see the dent in the covers and pillow behind me. He did hold me through the night. Snuggle back. I’ll keep you warm and watch over you.

Crawling from bed, I find the bathroom. A peach and black sweat suit and wrapped toothbrush are laying on the counter with a note.

Tatum dropped these clothes off for you. She’ll be back later.

After dressing I shore up my courage and follow the tantalizing smells to the kitchen. Turk is sitting at the breakfast bar cupping a mug of coffee between his palms. An older gentleman is in the open kitchen cooking. Seeing me first, he smiles. “How do you take your coffee, Caitlyn?”

Turk turns in his chair, smiles and holds his hand out to me. I take it and climb onto the barstool next to him where there’s an empty place setting. “Just a little cream, please.”

Turk gets the coffee as the other man dishes a plate of food and slides it to me. “I…”

The older man smiles and shakes his head. “Eat first, then we talk.”

Truth, the plate he puts before me smells so good I can’t help myself. I eat, he cleans, and Turk is texting on his phone. Reality comes crashing down.

Turk’s phone pings and he looks at the screen, then at the man across from him. He hits a button. “I just buzzed you in. Come on up.”

“Would you like more coffee,” the other man asks.

I nod as I push my empty plate aside. He refills all our cups and pours two more. “Let’s go to the living room and get comfortable.”

Turk leads me to the couch and sets his cup next to mine before crossing to the door. Clark walks in followed by Mel. Mel drops a small bag on the floor and comes directly to me, pulling me in for a big hug. “You okay, little girl?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? Did anything…” I glance at Turk and the other men. Pulling back, I look at them all. “What’s going on here? How does Mel know you?”

Mel crosses to the older man and holds out his hand to shake. “Detective Banner.”

“Just Joel, Mel.”

The man who made me breakfast smiles and extends his hand. “Caitlyn, I’m Joel Banner, Turk and Tatum’s father. I’m a retired detective. It’s a long story, but we know about your stepbrother, and we want to help.”

I shake my head. “You can’t help. No one can. He has people he pays.”

“Yes, we know. After last night we’ve identified several and I’m confident they will expose others.”

“Wh-what happened last night?”

Joel, Clark and Mel all look to Turk.

“A lot has happened. Let’s sit and get everyone on the same page,” Turk says, taking my hand and urging me to the couch.

“How do you know Mel?” I ask again.

“Caitlyn,” Joel cuts in, “Let’s start at the beginning. Clark and Turk have known each other since they were in pre-school. They were inseparable, almost like twins. Ask Tatum and Leslie. Tatum used to bitch that she had two over-protective brothers.

“That bond was never more apparent than when Baylor deliberately injured Turk, ending his hockey career.”

“Baylor was the one who broke your leg?”

“Yes,” Turk says. “So you can understand that anything he’s involved in makes me, us, suspicious. The night I found the two of you in the tunnel together I became apprehensive. Not initially of you, but of him.”

“Initially?”

“You tried to deceive me. You walked one way then I saw you sneak back and get on a bus. I followed you to the diner, saw you go upstairs and come out in an apron and go to work. Later you went back upstairs for the night. I had a copy of the employee forms you filled out. That wasn’t the address you listed as where you lived. I watched again another night. Waiting to see if Baylor was involved.

“I soon realized you were afraid of him as well. That he was threatening you in some way. I contacted my dad. We went to the diner on a day you wouldn’t be there. I wanted to get a feel for the place and what was going on. It turned out, Dad knew Mel. We talked and that conversation led us to your brother. Then we found out he was a silent part owner of the team before Clark purchased it.”

Mel meets my gaze. “I’ve known Joel for a long time. He used to be a regular at the diner when my grandparents were still alive. I knew he could be trusted. I told them about the shake down loan your brother holds over your head. The little prick needs to be dealt with.”

Clark cuts in, “You don’t grow up around a detective and not learn a few things. Turk and I went through all the contracts and yours wasn’t the only one with pay anomalies. Baylor had something to do with each one. We became aware of his close relationship with Missy and after the physicals, Turk suspected drugs in her case. We have inadmissible evidence that Baylor was supplying her drugs in exchange for her throwing games.”

“Cat,” Turk takes over, “When Tatum realized you were gone, she was a nervous wreck. She called me and told me Baylor told you to throw the game. She was terrified that Baylor did something to you. I told her I’d find you. I called her after your incident with the car, explained you were safe and that I was driving you home. I asked her to go tell Clark everything.”

He covers my clenched fist with his broad one. “She told us about Baylor wanting you to throw the game, and your confession to the team on the ice. That took a hell of a lot of courage. I’m so proud of you.”

I meet his gaze, looking for the truth of his words. No one has ever been proud of me before. But I see it in his eyes.

Clark nods. “When Tatum got on the bus, she confronted Baylor loud and clear. Outing him so all the team would hear. When we got back to town he disappeared.”

“A couple hours later, Mel calls me,” Joel chimes in. “Someone was trying to break into the restaurant and the apartment overhead. We were able to apprehend three men.”

“I’d already taken the little bit of stuff you’d left out, so they didn’t get anything. It’s all in that bag,” Mel assures me.

“Any damage to your building?”

Mel shakes his head.

“They’ll never go to trial.” I meet his gaze. “Slack has people on the force and in public office on his payroll. The people you have in custody will either never say anything or they’ll die in jail. You can’t beat him. He’s been doing this his whole life.

“He learned from my stepfather and perfected his methods. Once Slack has something on you, your life is never your own. He involves you in his illegal operations then threatens and controls your every move. When someone doesn’t do what he wants he kills them or a loved one and makes sure everyone else under his thumb knows how ruthless he is.

“Honestly, I’m never sure why I’m still alive except I know he likes to play with me like a cat with a mouse.”

Joel snickers. “They messed with the wrong guy last night. Mel is a decorated Army Ranger Intelligence Officer. He called me, and we caught two onsite and one as he ran. Mel has film footage of the break-in. We suspect two of their cronies on the force. They’re being interrogated now. They expected to burn the place down, so they were sloppy and didn’t cover their faces.”

“There are politicians on his payroll, too.”

“I’m aware. Have you ever played with dominos, Caitlyn?” Joel asks.

I shake my head.

“If you line them up in a row, half the width apart then knock one domino down, it often takes them all. I’ll take some over none any day.”

“You’re retired. What can you do?”

“The district attorney is a very good friend and as honest as they come. I would trust her with my own family. I retired two years ago. I still know all the good cops on the force. I know how the system works and who to go to.”

“What do you know about my stepbrother?” I ask.

“Illegal drug sales, gambling, prostitution. I’m sure there’s more.”

I nod. “Sex trafficking. Rape. Rape of minors. Possible pedophile. Murder for hire.”

“Jesus,” Clark wheezes, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Do you have proof?” Joel asks.

I lean my head against the back of the couch and study the ceiling. “Slack learned most of what he does from his dad, my stepfather. That man was an abusive drug addict and all of the above. He got my mom hooked, then pimped her when he needed money. He’d do anything for a buck or fix. He killed for hire.

“Slack learned everything from him. He… thrived on it all.

“Slack raped me on my fourteenth birthday. He said it was my present. Shortly after my sixteenth birthday he bludgeoned our parents. I walked in and saw him standing over them, the bloody hammer in his hand. He tried to say he walked in and found them that way and instinctively picked up the weapon. I knew it was a lie, he was covered in blood spatter. I should have told someone, said something. I should have….”

Turk eases an arm around me. “Babe, you were in shock. Seeing that is not normal. Did you get any counseling?”

“Not really, I was taken to the hospital for shock and kept there for three days. Counselors came in and asked if I wanted to talk, but I couldn’t. Slack was always there. Then he was appointed my guardian. I was required to attend six more sessions, but he always took me.

“When they were over, he told me he owned me and was putting me to work. He set me up with my first john. I saw an out and took it.”

“You propositioned a cop and went to juvie,” Turk says.

I roll my head and look at him. “You know about that?”

“Yes. The officer swore you did it on purpose. That you were afraid.”

“I did. When I got out, I went to foster care. My foster dad was a good guy, he’d served in the military, owned his own auto repair shop, and taught me hockey.

“Slack stayed away from me. I think because he was working bigger deals by then and I was of no use to him.

“I was doing okay. Living in a little studio apartment, making ends meet with small jobs. Trying out for hockey teams when I could.

“But I made a mistake. About nine months ago he put our parents’ home up for sale. I foolishly went to an open house hoping there’d be a picture of my mom I could get. Maybe one of my dad, or baby pictures. I thought I’d be anonymous. But apparently, he saw me walk away. That put me back on his radar.

“Shortly after he approached me at the hockey rink where I practiced. He told me that my dad’s mother was pretty sick and she was looking for me. She wanted to leave her home and what’s left of her money to me as her only living relative. I only remember meeting the woman once or twice. But she remembered me.

“Slack wanted that house. I refused to sign it over to him. That’s when he came up with the bogus prostitute contract. Said that I reneged on the appointment, so I had to pay him back with interest. He said he’d destroy the contract if I’d give him the house. It was a forged contract, but he said if it went public no hockey team would ever hire me.”

“He started having me followed. I lost both of my jobs making it hard for me to meet his ridiculous payments. If it wasn’t for Mel, I’d have been on the street. Then I got the hockey offer. I thought I got my break. I’d be making real money and could pay the loan off faster. I didn’t know about Baylor.”

“Did you find a picture of your mom?” Joel asks, understanding in his gaze.

“Yes,” I choke out, rubbing my eyes.

“What else?” he presses.

I study him and shake my head. “I thought it would keep me safe. That it was my insurance. I heard that kind of talk my whole life.” I look at Turk. “Where’s my backpack?”

“I’ll get it.”

When he returns, I dump the contents on the table, rip up the bottom, and pull out two small softback booklets and hand them to Joel. “There was a loose floorboard in my mother’s closet. I’d seen her go into it before and asked her what was in it. She said it was precious stuff she’d show me someday when I was older.

“I found four photos. My mom, dad and I were in the pictures. There were also two diaries. I didn’t have a lot of time and assumed they were what they said. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized that they were my stepdads kill books and how much he made for each one. The diaries were generic and I found the same ones at a nearby store. I duplicated the information and snuck the copies back into the hiding place.”

“How did you know they were kills?” Clark asks.

“My stepdad would brag about how cleaver he was. How he could make death look natural or like suicide when he wanted to. I recognized one of the names of the hit he’d been especially proud of in the book.”

Clark pulls out his phone. “What’s the address of your old house?” I give it to him.

“Caitlyn, your mom and stepdad were murdered ten years ago, correct?” Joel asks as he studies one of the books.

“Yes.”

He looks up. “Caitlyn, this second book was not your stepfather’s. I recognize two of these names from two years ago. A husband killed his wife then committed suicide. I was backup on the case. I disagreed with the lead detective’s conclusion. This is your stepbrother’s book. He must have known the hiding place, too.

“He’s been into that hiding place before. He’s retrieved the books or will go there at some point. He’ll realize the photos are gone.” Turk looks at me. “You’re in even more danger than we thought.”

“The new owners closed on the house Saturday,” Clark looks up from his phone. “He knows.”