Page 51

CHAPTER 51

Behind him, Dante heard a limping step and the sound of a walker, and Alex cleared her throat.

He turned, and Maarja peeked around him.

Octavia and Alex had returned, and Alex pinned him with a pointed stare. “With all your security measures, how did two killers get in our home undetected?”

As his sister-in-law and the woman who’d been knocked down by an intruder, he acceded her the right to question him. He didn’t like it—but he accepted it.

Maarja slipped from his arms and sat on the edge of the mattress. “And did the other one get away?”

Dante looked sharply at her. She sounded a little slurred. But she looked better, less tearful, with more color in her face and a sparkle of interest in her eyes. “He escaped out a window in the…studio?” He didn’t know what room he’d been in, but there had been half-painted canvases and tools, pigments and brushes that had been put down and never again picked up.

“Mom’s studio,” Maarja told him.

“I should clean it out,” Octavia said. “I’ve never been so hopelessly blind that I could convince myself to do it.”

“Those wood prints. On the cloth. You have great talent and vision,” Dante told her sincerely. “You must have made quite a name for yourself.”

“I was on my way as an artist and a teacher. My husband got jealous and…” She shrugged. “My mistake for accepting less than the best.”

“He hurt you?” Dante was outraged.

“Rather badly.” Briefly Octavia covered her eyes with her hand. “But Maarja isn’t making the same mistake.” She was willing to let the intruder question go.

Not so for Alex. “How did they get in? Your cousin whose body the Oakland police are currently removing from Maarja’s bedroom? And his accomplice who jumped into our backyard and…vanished?”

“That scene in my office and the foyer was unusual behavior for Jack.” Dante had been over the scene so many times in his mind, and now he understood what had niggled at him. “He’s controlled, might lose his patience but doesn’t lose his temper.”

“He was a cop. He had access to drugs.” Alex wavered. She’d been pushing herself ever since she’d left the hospital. Today she’d been knocked down, she was worried, and she had a role to play in the wedding.

Dante strode to her side and helped her lower the seat on the walker and seat herself.

“I hate this,” she muttered.

“I know.” He touched the scar on his face to assure her he had reason.

She nodded in appreciation. “Misery loves company. But…Jack?”

“Jack showed none of the physical signs of drug use. Call me a suspicious bastard, but I watched. Those are difficult to fake. Assuming he was putting on a scene, what was his motive? What was he trying to accomplish by behaving counter to his usual behavior? Since he joined the San Francisco police, he made it clear he’d transferred his loyalty from his family to the force.” Dante perched his hip on Octavia’s dresser, and he spoke to the three women with respect, explaining himself without excuse. “I don’t ignore my doubts. I didn’t like his behavior. I thought it artless, and I didn’t believe that. I suggested to Saint Rees that his people keep a light watch, and if Jack appeared, to let him in to make his way to my room. I miscalculated his goal. I thought he would first come after me. Instead he used Maarja to get access and take control in the most ruthless move possible.”

“You thought ? You put your confidence in what you thought?” Alex reacted like a snarling dog.

“His accomplice knocked out my bodyguard. Nate was out cold, hit and kicked with such force I’m worried about a concussion. Or worse.” Worry pulled at him in all directions, but the fear that his bodyguard had suffered a brain injury was the worst. Nate was one of his people, always there, stolid, silent, supportive—and yes, a suspect. But not. “A second unit of EMTs are with him.”

“Not Nate!” Octavia looked so grieved. “He’s a good man. Too closed in, of course. But that’s his job, and his mother is a horror.”

Dante and Maarja exchanged looks.

“How did you get him to talk to you?” Dante asked.

“She was interested,” Maarja and Alex said at the same time.

“That’s her secret,” Alex added.

Maarja nodded. “Everyone talks to Mom.”

Dante realized his mistake. He had believed that Nate, who had stoically sacrificed his personal life to preserve Dante’s, deserved his privacy. Dante hadn’t asked the right questions; why would any man allow himself to be condemned from his earliest days to such a career? Who had set him on such an unwavering path, and why had he never once rebelled? Now Dante realized he was missing a crucial component in solving this mystery, and perhaps Nate would now share his story—but Nate had been knocked unconscious by an unknown assailant. Urgently he asked, “Octavia, do you know who his mother is?”

“Not by name, but the pressure she put on Nate his whole life!”

“Pressure to do what?”

“He didn’t say, but she doesn’t deserve a son like him.” Octavia picked up her phone and texted. “There. I’ve alerted my prayer group to assist in his recovery; he’ll be cradled in love.”

“All my life, he’s been there. For me. I’m suspicious of him—I’m suspicious of everyone—but when I saw him laid out, his muscles slack, that bruising as if someone had stomped on his face in a fury… He and Connor are supposed to stand up with me, but he is… I don’t know if he can be at the wedding today.”

Maarja took his hand. “Dante, you’re the guy who makes the tough calls—and sometimes…you’re wrong.”

Alex snorted. “Say it’s not so.”

Maarja ignored her. “With this new information—what do you see when the pieces next move on the chessboard?”

“I see a reveal at the ceremony today.” Dante stood and headed out the door. “Let me call off the hunting dogs. We need to reveal our enemies, and as you suggested, a peaceful, hopeful wedding ceremony should draw them out.”

“Should we worry about an explosion?” Octavia asked.

Dante decisively shook his head, then said, “Whoever this is, he wants to make a statement. He wants to be in charge. He must make an appearance.”

“Or she,” Alex said.

“Or she,” he agreed at once. “I have thought… Well, there’s no use in wasting time with speculation. We’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

When he was gone, Maarja turned to her mother and sister. “Every little girl dreams of a white wedding with flowers and friends and family. I get all that and the chance to be the bait in a trap to catch a killer.”

“I always knew when you found the right man, he would be unique and wonderful,” Mom said.

“He’s unique, anyway.” Alex was acerbic. “We should cancel this event right now.”

“No,” Octavia said.

Alex stubbornly continued, “We’ve all been through a lot and it’s a marriage Maarja doesn’t have to make.”

“You heard Dante about the reveal.” Octavia had that stubborn jaw set that her kids knew meant business. “Maarja’s idea to bring everyone together was the right plan, we’ve already proved that, and I refuse to allow a little trauma postpone what will be a marvelous and eternal union.”

“Marry in haste, repent at leisure!” Alex retorted. But with Maarja not stepping into the disagreement and Octavia being so adamant, she clearly knew she’d lost this battle.

Maarja touched the bandage on her chin. “I hope the Novocain wears off soon. I’ve got vows to recite and the back of my tongue is numb.”