Dark Pursuit

Her finger pushed the button. “Kaitlan. What a surprise.”

A nonresponse, but it bought her a few seconds. God, what should I do? The estranged granddaughter had finally come. She and D. might have a yelling match, but maybe after they calmed down they could begin to reconnect …

Talk about wishful thinking. The girl was a drug addict.

“Please.” The voice caught. “Is this Margaret? Please let me in. I have to see him.”

Protectiveness rose in Margaret. D. was as stubborn and irascible as a man could be, but he’d lived through so much. After Gretchen divorced him, he’d never been the same. Her death dealt another crushing blow, one that pummeled guilt so deeply into D. that he couldn’t look at it, couldn’t live with it. His only defense had been anger.

Margaret had prayed for his heart to be softened.

“What do you need, Kaitlan? Perhaps I can help you?”

A half sob filtered through the intercom. “No, you can’t. Please, Margaret.”

“Do you need money? Is that it?”

“I don’t need money! I don’t do drugs anymore, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve been clean for two years. Margaret, I have no family. I want to make things right. I can’t do that if you won’t let me in.”

From down the hall, Margaret heard the distinctive sound of D.’s cane approaching.

Indecision froze her. Was this finally his chance to heal the rift with Kaitlan? What a change that could make in D.’s depressing life. Or was it a ruse on Kaitlan’s part, merely to manipulate drug money out of him? Steal from him again?

“Who is that?” D. barked, his expression dark. The tension in his shoulders, that edge in his voice signaled his suspicions—and that he’d better be wrong. “What’s going on?”

Margaret turned toward him, her finger sliding to the “gate open” button, almost of its own accord. She pushed in and held. Through the intercom, she heard the clank of the heavy gate responding.

With a deep breath Margaret prepared herself for the wrath of the King of Suspense. “It’s your granddaughter.”

eight

Kaitlan could hear him roaring before the front door opened. She stood weak-ankled on her grandfather’s porch, clutching her resolve as tightly as the purse in her hands.

Her grandfather’s shouts and curses blasted through the thick wood. “What did you let her in for? I’m not seeing her, understand? You can just send her right back to the streets where she belongs!”

A hard thump against the floor. “Never mind; I’ll tell her myself!” Footsteps and more thumping—just beyond the door. Kaitlan could feel his presence mere feet away.

She steeled herself.

A memory rushed at Kaitlan—herself at ten, peeking into her grandfather’s office. He’d been hunched over his keyboard, typing like mad and muttering to himself. She just wanted to talk to him. She knew he was famous. People said so. They said it almost breathlessly, like they couldn’t believe she was related to him. Kaitlan was so proud of him. It took a long time for her to get her courage up. Finally she whispered, “Grandfather?” He jerked up straight like somebody jammed a rod through his spine. He swung around, thick brows mashed together in a fierce frown. “Don’t bother me, can’t you see I’m working?” He shooed her away with a hard swipe of his hand. Kaitlan had melted back, eyes burning. She never tried that again.

On the porch Kaitlan heard the click of a handle. The front door flung open.

Darell Brooke glared at her, his wild gray brows knitted, gnarled hands on a cane. His cheeks were wizened and hollowed. And his shoulders—not straight and proud like she remembered. Now they hunched like an old man’s.

Kaitlan felt shock flit across her face. This couldn’t be her grandfather.

“I told you I never wanted to see you again!” His long bony fingers grasped the door, ready to slam it shut. “Now get out of here!”

Kaitlan flung herself across the threshold.

She pressed against the wall, chest heaving, hardly knowing how she’d gotten there. To her right spread the wide entrance to the TV room.

Her grandfather’s head rotated toward her like a buzzard following prey. The sheer hatred on his face. His cold eyes and twisted mouth. Darell Brooke looked meaner than ever. Kaitlan tried to speak. Nothing came out.

She glanced past him at Margaret, some five feet back. Anxiety crisscrossed the woman’s face, her hands tightly clutched to her neck. Kaitlan’s grandfather flung a hand toward the porch. “How dare you enter this house! Get out!”

The old grief stirred in Kaitlan. Her mind flashed on nights of sleeping in doorways, wondering how she’d sunk so low. Her hard jail cot. How she’d wished with all her might for a family.

“Please. I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Talk?” He sneered. “We talked six years ago. You showed up here, so repentant after running away, remember? I let you in. And the minute I turned my back, you stole from me.”

His gold Rolex watch—the special gift Kaitlan’s grandmother had given him in celebration of his first number-one bestseller. Kaitlan knew that watch meant the world to him, especially after Grandmother died. She’d stolen it anyway.

Spittle flew from his lips. “A twenty-five-thousand-dollar watch. How much did you get when you pawned it, huh? Five hundred? Enough for one lowly fix?”

“I didn’t … I was wrong. But I’m different now. I’m clean. I have a new life—”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Kaitlan’s mouth snapped shut. It was true. Cold-blooded manipulation then earned her no trust now.

Margaret took a step forward. “Maybe if you just—”

“Shut up, Margaret.”

Her head jerked as if she’d been slapped.

Darell Brooke’s eyes bored into Kaitlan. “You’ve got fifteen seconds. Either you leave or I call the police.”

“No!” Kaitlan flung out her hands. Her purse dropped to the floor. “You can’t. I need your help, please. They’ll never believe me. I came home and found a dead woman on my bed. Strangled. With a piece of black fabric with green stripes. And I’m afraid my boyfriend did it. But he’s a cop and the son of Russ Barlow, Gayner chief of police. No way will the police believe he’s responsible. They’ll arrest me for it; I know they will.” She leaned toward her grandfather. “You have to tell me what to do. You know crime; you’ve written suspense—all of a sudden I’m living it!”

Margaret’s mouth hung open.

Kaitlan sagged against the wall, drained of energy. Her heart thudded in her ears.

Her grandfather stared at her, emotions moving across his face. Shock … disbelief … suspicion. His eyes widened then narrowed, and his lips trembled. For the first time in her life, Kaitlan saw her grandfather at a loss for words.

No one moved. Outside a bird chirped. In some distant room a fluorescent light hummed.

Her grandfather’s neck arched like a snake ready to strike. “How dare you.” He shoved the front door closed. The slam rattled Kaitlan’s bones. He breathed in long and hard, nostrils flaring. “How did you do it? How?”

Kaitlan darted a glance at Margaret—what’s he talking about? Margaret lifted a shoulder.

Darell Brooke pushed his grizzled face into Kaitlan’s. His lips pulled back and his cheeks were mottled. She could smell his musty breath. “Answer me.”

“I … don’t know what you mean.”