Using instinct and a faint light in the distance, Jonathan made his way along the perimeter of the ballroom. As he moved, he brushed against bodies and nearly tumbled over a tray perched precariously on a rickety stand.
A sense of urgency filled him, forcing him to walk faster and faster toward the flickering light. As he approached he realized he’d been drawn to the back of the ballroom, not the entrance that led into the hotel foyer. The flickering was caused by a door banging in the stiff evening breeze. Jonathan reached to push it open when the sharp sound of gunfire stopped him dead in his tracks.
He waited, counting three shots. Behind him, several people in the crowd screamed. He sensed a general surge of movement away from the danger and had a brief hope that Cynthia had stayed in the alcove. She would be a hell of a lot safer there than trying to fight her way out of the dark ballroom. He waited several more seconds until he thought it might be clear, then he stepped out into the parking lot behind the hotel.
His first thought was that there were too many lights and he slipped into a shadow by the door. So the power outage was localized to the hotel, or maybe just the ballroom. There were probably a hundred cars parked out here. Trees lined the edge of the parking lot. He sensed more than saw several flickers of movement. A tightness in his gut gave him a bad feeling about the entire situation and he couldn’t get rid of the impression that somehow David was involved. Was the blackout a distraction for whomever was going to kill Jonathan? He shook his head. David would want to be far away before anything happened to his half brother.
“So what am I doing out here?” he muttered to himself.
Good question. He didn’t have any way to protect himself against whoever had the gun. Nor was he a police officer with any kind of training. He was rarely impulsive and this unplanned action could get him dead very quickly. Still he stayed where he was, trying to figure out what exactly had happened.
He didn’t have to wait long. A car door banged closed at the far end of the parking lot and he heard the rumble of an engine, followed by a squeal of tires as the vehicle sped away. Closer to him, he heard a man swearing loudly.
“If anyone can hear me, call 9-1-1,” he yelled. “There are two injured people here. I’ve got to go after the shooter.”
Jonathan moved toward the voice. Before he’d gone more than twenty feet, a second car took off into the night. But Jonathan didn’t spare it a glance. Instead he looked down and saw two people sprawled out on the tarmac. Two tall, dark-haired people. A man and a woman.
His gut tightened even more and before he got close he knew what he would find. He shifted and light fell across the bodies. He recognized them both. David and Lisa. Lying still. Too still.
“You all right?” Detective Jack Stryker asked Jonathan a couple of hours later.
Jonathan looked at the detective and shrugged. “Under the circumstances? I’ve been better.”
Stryker, a tall man in his mid-thirties, nodded sympathetically. “I know this isn’t easy. It was one thing when you found out David was embezzling from the company, but threatening to kill you makes it a whole different story.”
Jonathan didn’t respond. All he could think of to ask was if Stryker had a brother and did they get along. Which was crazy. Other people’s families didn’t matter to him. He had a half brother who had just threatened to kill him. Now that half brother was in a hospital somewhere, or already dead. He had the brief thought that he should insist that the detective take him over to the hospital to stand vigil or something, but he was still too numb to feel any sense of urgency.
If David was still alive, what was he, Jonathan, supposed to say to him? “I forgive you?” Would David give a damn about that? Jonathan doubted it. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was willing to forgive. Not the death threat nor the stealing. Certainly not the lifetime of squandering every opportunity.
Stryker’s cell phone rang. The detective answered it. Jonathan waited, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a steady pain by his temples. At least the lights had come on about an hour before. The room the two of them occupied was small and windowless. Probably a business conference center at the hotel. There was a long table in the center of the room and a dozen chairs pulled up around it. The serviceable carpet was a medium shade of gray. Still new enough not to be stained or flat in patches.
Carpet, Jonathan thought to himself. I’m thinking about carpet. What the hell is wrong with me?
But he knew the answer to that. If he didn’t think about carpet, he might think about his brother again. About what David had done or wanted to do. About a threat of murder that was probably a whole lot more than a threat. About how things had gotten so screwed up and how he didn’t have a clue as to how to fix them.
“What time?” Stryker asked.
An edge in the detective’s tone alerted Jonathan. He turned in his seat until he faced the blond man leaning against the edge of the table. Stryker’s face tightened.
“I see. All right.” He paused. “Yeah. I’ll tell him.”
He continued talking, but Jonathan stopped listening. He knew the subject of the conversation and he knew what Jack Stryker planned to say. David and Lisa were both dead.
The news wasn’t a surprise, he thought grimly as he waited for the realization to slam into him. He’d heard the gunshots. He’d seen their too-still bodies lying on the ground and the pools of blood around them. He’d known the truth the second he’d stumbled across their bodies. So he wasn’t surprised to have the information confirmed.
Stryker shoved the phone into his jacket pocket. “Jonathan, I’m sorry.”
Jonathan held up a hand. “I know. They’re dead.”
Stryker nodded. “They were pronounced dead on arrival at Vanderbilt Memorial. There will be an autopsy. It might delay things for a day or two.”
It took Jonathan a second to figure out that the detective was talking about a funeral. Nothing could be scheduled until the bodies were released.
He swore under his breath. “What happened?” he asked and realized a second too late the detective would think he meant his brother’s death, when Jonathan was really talking about a lifetime of a relationship gone wrong.
“There was luggage in the car,” Stryker told him. “Eight good-size suitcases, passports and tickets to Rio. Several witnesses reported seeing them with a smaller, soft-sided black bag, but we haven’t found that yet. Maybe it got kicked under one of the cars. We have officers searching the area.”
Jonathan decided it was easier to talk about the murder than to explain what he’d really been asking. “Do you think it held the money?”
“Maybe.” Stryker settled on a corner of the table.
“David said he and Lisa were going to be far away when I was killed. Being out of the country would make their alibi even better. But who killed them?”
“We’re going to have to find that out. We’re looking for the two cars you saw leaving right after the shooting. Obviously David and Lisa weren’t working alone. There had to be at least one other person involved, possibly more than that.”
One other person. The murderer. “So if my brother was telling the truth about going away, then he was probably also telling the truth about having me killed.”
Stryker’s steady blue gaze locked with his. “That’s my read on it.”
Jonathan couldn’t escape his feeling of disbelief. This wasn’t happening. “Where would David find someone willing to kill me. Neither of us travel in the ‘gun for hire’ circle.”
“Unfortunately it’s not as difficult as you might think. A couple of discreet questions in the right bar and you have a contact. One contact leads to another. If someone was motivated, he could set up a hit in a couple of days.”
“David was motivated,” Jonathan said, trying to figure out why he wasn’t more worried. Right now all he felt was numb. How had he and his brother turned out so differently? When had David started to hate him enough to want him dead?
