Family Pride (Blood of the Pride) (7 page)

Hank studied me for a minute before giving a cautious nod. “We’re talking to Brayton right now. We’re checking out Callendar’s history, see if anyone had a grudge against her.” He gave me a thoughtful look. “What was your perception of the relationship between Callendar and Brayton?”

This wasn’t Attersley the detective. This was Hank sharing a beer with me at the local bar after a rough week and tossing ideas back and forth on popular cases playing out in the media.

I rolled my shoulders back, feeling a bit of the tension easing out. This was familiar territory. “Couldn’t give you a precise assessment since I just met them today. But if he was working out an arrangement and having papers drawn up it seems sort of back-assward to have her killed and steal the baby. It’s not like he wouldn’t automatically become a suspect, which he has.”

Hank waved me on, encouraging me to keep talking. I knew he wasn’t looking to trap me with my own words but to take advantage of my skills.

Hell, I wouldn’t even send the police a bill.

I tapped my fingernails on the stainless steel table. “It’d be a bad move on Brayton’s part because he would know the murder would be discovered and tracked back to his front door. Sending any courier would be risky, but me? Why would he put me in the middle of this, knowing what I do for a living?”

Hank sat back and crossed his arms. “Why, indeed.” He paused again, waiting to see if I would give him more.

I thought about whether I was prepared to give him Hanover as a possible suspect.

I decided against it. This could have nothing to do with Hanover and tossing his name out would bring down a shit storm of trouble on everyone—especially Bran and myself.

Hanover knew Brayton was sending me over and if he wanted Callendar dead he’d have more resources available to him, people who would be cleaner and faster. There was no doubt in my mind Michael Hanover was a very powerful man who got what he wanted. Why set his friend up as a possible suspect for the murder and bring me into the picture? He had to know I’d play pretty with the cops and wouldn’t cover his trail where a murdered mother was involved. I loved his son but he was playing with some big balls if he figured I’d keep his murder of Molly Callendar as a dirty little family secret.

There was also the uncomfortable fact that if I pointed the finger at Hanover I’d have three pointed back at myself. A good prosecutor could make the case I’d killed Callendar because I was upset over Hanover’s attempts to blackmail me. It wasn’t much but I’d seen prosecutors file charges on a lot less in order to get a suspect in jail and under pressure.

I couldn’t afford to spend time in a holding cell while the cops dug out the truth. Not to mention I couldn’t afford the truth coming out about me, Hanover’s attempted blackmail and the family.

Callendar’s murder would be only the start in a long gory line of death. I didn’t and couldn’t imagine how many would fall prey to heart attacks, car accidents and accidental poisonings before the Felis felt safe again.

“Someone could have followed me to the hotel. Takes out Callendar before taking the baby for ransom.”

Hank sat back. “Possible but that’s pretty hard-core, killing a mother and snatching a baby. Gotta have brass balls to look a woman in the face and gun her down.” Hank shook his head. “Don’t make sense. But then murder usually don’t.” He reached out and tapped my nose. “I see that look in your eyes. Don’t you get wound up in this, Rebecca. You’re already technically involved and I don’t want to have to arrest your ass.”

“Me?” I gave him an angelic smile.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. “And it starts.” He wagged a fat finger at me. “Don’t get involved any more than you are, Desjardin. You’re already on shaky ground. I’m going to have to answer why I’m not tossing your ass into a holding cell right now.”

I held out my hands. “Go for it. She was killed sometime between my first visit and my return. I’ve got two cabbies who’ll vouch I was in their cabs and a pissy receptionist who’ll tell you I was in Brayton’s office. I’ll call Michael Hanover and he’ll get a lawyer who’ll run you and your crew to ground on a thousand little technicalities within the hour.”

It was a bluff, one I hoped would work. I didn’t want to have to call Michael Hanover for anything, much less one of his lawyers. But I’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to keep Hank’s arrest-eager buddies at bay.

Hank scowled but I saw the underlying smile. “Get the fuck out of here before I toss you for being annoying.”

As I turned to go he touched my arm, bringing me back. “Be careful, Reb. This isn’t just about a dead woman. Whoever killed her took the baby and if you start rattling the wrong cages things could go south fast.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “He could panic and kill the kid. He’s already killed the mother—he’s got nothing to lose. You put him in a corner and Molly’s family might end up having a double funeral.”

Chapter Four

The line for the elevator included two foul-smelling transients and a trio of streetwalkers with dueling perfumes, so I decided to wait for the next one. Even without my hypersensitive sense of smell I’d have been throwing up the second the doors closed.

I leaned against the wall trying to find my balance. I’d dealt with a lot of strange cases over the years, up to and including child custody, but a kidnapping was way out of my league and experience.

More so when it was one of my own, in a manner of speaking. Bran was my mate and Liam my—what was he? Possible half brother-in-law? Could babies be in-law anything?

My head spun as I worked through the possible titles. It was easier than thinking about how to deal with Bran and find Liam.

“Rebecca.”

I turned at the familiar voice.

Bernadette Hanover stared at me. She wore dark blue slacks with a matching jacket. “What are you doing here?”

I resisted the urge to dig in my messenger bag, returned to me a few minutes ago, for my drug stash to fight the oncoming migraine. The last thing I needed was to give Bran’s mother the impression I was an addict.

“I could ask the same,” I shot back.

Her eyes narrowed. She wasn’t used to being challenged by anyone, much less someone she viewed as far below her social status. “I’m here for a meeting about a new charity. We opened up a month ago and we’re assessing the different programs.” She nodded at a brightly colored poster on the bulletin board advertising yet another foundation aimed at helping ex-convicts to find meaningful employment.

She crossed her arms in front of her, building body armor. “And you?”

I flipped through the various stories I’d used in the past to cover an uncomfortable situation. I didn’t know if she knew Brayton or not but I wasn’t going to get her involved in this if at all possible. Not when there was an illegitimate Hanover baby out there somewhere.

The last thing I needed right now was to get into another pissing match with Bernadette. I’d have plenty of opportunities for that in the future.

“I know one of the detectives.” I waved at Attersley. He waved back, frowning at seeing me still in the police station and talking to someone far out of my social strata. He tilted his head to one side and watched us dance.

Bernadette crossed her arms. “I know you know some cop here. It was in your file.”

I resisted the urge to snap her neck like the scrawny chicken she reminded me of. The last thing I needed was for Hank to overhear the word “file” and wonder what that was all about.

Her lower lip jutted out in a halfhearted pout. “What I want to know is why you are here, now.” She gestured at the animated figures dashing in and out of offices. A missing baby set off all the bells and whistles and Attersley’s people took their job seriously. “I understand your profession involves dealing with the police but I didn’t expect to find you hanging out here.”

I caught the disapproval in her voice mixed with curiosity. She’d likely gotten all of her knowledge about private investigation from bad crime novels and reruns of
Magnum PI
and I didn’t fit into any of them.

Especially the cute mustache.

“I’m between cases right now.” I figured the less she knew about my arrangement with her husband the better—I’d let him deal with the situation if and when it came up. “There’s an AMBER Alert out for a missing child. I wanted to get a full description so I could pass the information on to my street sources. Any port in a storm and so forth.” It was a half lie, one I could be comfortable with.

“Oh my.” She glanced at the scrambling officers. “A missing child. That’s awful.” Bernadette turned her attention back to me. “Is it a random snatching or parental custody issue?”

I looked at her, startled by the logical question. Maybe there was more to this woman than seen at first glance. “Ah, we’re not sure yet. At the least, a kidnapping.”

“It wasn’t a carjacking, was it?” She let out a plaintive sigh. “I work with one group who keeps reminding the public to not leave babies in the car, even for a few minutes while they rush into a store.”

“No, no car here.” I wasn’t sure what to say or not to say, not knowing what or how much information had been released to the public. I didn’t need Hank roaring down my neck for putting something out that hadn’t been approved by The Powers That Be.

Bernadette shook her head. “Such a pity. I hope they find the little boy or girl. Awful business, especially where babies are involved.”

She turned to go and I felt my heart begin beating again.

Bernadette suddenly stopped and spun on one tall stiletto heel to face me again. “We should have lunch sometime. I’ll call you and we can chat about things away from the men. I’d like to hear about your mother.” Her lips drew together into a tight line before moving again. “I’m sure it was quite traumatic when you lost her.”

Suddenly I was ten years old again and curled up in Ruth’s lap, crying and cursing with words I didn’t even understand yet.

“Yeah. Have your people call my people and we’ll do lunch,” I croaked out.

She gave me a practiced smile. “We’ll have a little girl time together since you’re spending so much time with my son.” The last two words came out almost as a curse, her lips curling around the syllables.

“Sure.” I lifted a hand to give a halfhearted wave but she’d already disappeared down the hallway and into the stairwell, her blond locks bouncing around her shoulders.

A cool breeze wafted through courtesy of a well-placed fan by an open window at the far end of the hallway and I drew in a deep breath, both gathering myself and enjoying the reprieve from the funky station house smell.

The wind also carried another scent, a variation of one I’d recently become familiar with.

I closed my eyes. This was part of the reason I could never become a cop. I couldn’t handle this part of the job.

I opened them to look down the hall, zeroing in on a frail-looking couple being guided along the corridor by a pair of uniformed policemen.

The Callendars.

The older woman was this side of retirement, her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. A white shawl hung on her narrow shoulders, draped over a black blouse and matching slacks.

Her husband had a handful of follicles left and had chosen to do a comb-over to try to keep some sense of having hair. He wore an oil-stained black T-shirt and jeans. His hands sat on her shoulders—calloused and leathered. Mr. Callendar was a man who worked with his hands and worked hard for a living.

They stopped outside one of the interrogation rooms. The uniforms muttered something and walked away, leaving the grieving parents alone to sit on a wooden bench and wait for the detectives to show up and brief them.

I moved over to the open window and looked out, tuning in to the bereaved couple. It didn’t take much to zone in on the emotional whispers and lock out the grumblings and mutterings from the nearby cops. I felt my ears twitch as my natural radar zeroed in on the grieving parents.

“I can’t believe this,” Mrs. Callendar said between sobs. “Who would do this to her, right after she had the baby? Who?”

Her husband tightened his grip on her shoulders. “That bastard.” His fingers trembled where they rested. “That bastard,” he repeated.

She reached up and touched his hand. “Right now we have to focus on Liam. We need to find Liam.”

“We’ll find the bastard and make him pay,” Mr. Callendar rumbled. The hardness in his words startled me. There was a lot of bite behind this bark. “We’ll find him and the baby and do what’s right.” He shot an angry look at a uniformed cop. “We’ll do right by her.”

The distraught woman shook her head. “I wish she had stayed with Ian. He was such a nice boy...” Her sentence trailed off into a new outburst of tears.

Her husband shook his head. “You know it wouldn’t have worked out, Julia. They grew up together but they weren’t meant to be together no matter how much we all wanted it to work.” He let out a snort. “I wish she had told us who Liam’s father was. We’d have a place to start.”

“You don’t think it was Ian?” Julia Callendar pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.

Mr. Callendar shrugged. “She said it wasn’t him and I believe her. I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.” He sighed. “I’ll call his dad on the construction site. Maybe that’s the best way to go about this.”

“Until they bring him in for questioning.” His wife sniffled. “You know the police will want every detail, every ex.”

“We’ll give it to them. And let Harrison clear his own name,” Mr. Callendar replied. “It was supposed to be a nice breakup, an amicable deal.” He shook his head. “I’ll kill the bastard.” He swiped at a wayward tear making its way down his cheek. “I’m more worried about Liam. He’s so young, so little—” He buried his face in his wife’s shoulder.

The two wobbled back and forth, leaning on each other for support.

I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned away, giving them their privacy.

I also had another lead in Molly’s murder.

Attersley appeared at my side, startling me. “Who was that?”

“Who?” I blinked, trying to regain my focus. It was always hard to switch back to the present after using my Felis senses.

“The fancy lady bending your ear.” He stabbed a thumb at the stairwell where Bernadette Hanover had gone. “Thought for a second you were about to jump out the window, you looked so terrified.”

“Michael Hanover’s wife.” I tried to sound nonchalant. “Bran’s mum.”

Epic fail.

The pudgy detective let out a low whistle. “I think you’d be better off single than dealing with that barracuda.”

I tilted my head and smiled. “You don’t think I can handle her?”

“Sweetie.” He gave me a sad smile. “My mother-in-law hates my guts. No man would ever be good enough for her daughter and in your case no woman would ever be good enough for her son. There’s nothing you could do, outside of maybe saving the world, that would bring her over to your side.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“No problem.” He grinned. “Why are you still here?”

I jerked a thumb at the elevator. “Waiting for my ride.” I couldn’t help looking back at the Callendars.

He followed my glance toward the mourning parents and shook his head. “Don’t screw with them, Reb. They’re good folks who not only lost their daughter but now they’re worried about having to bury a grandson.”

I paused, weighing my options. I could, in all good faith, walk over and offer my services to help find Liam.

Hank seemed to be reading my mind. “Don’t even think about it. You’re mixed up in this enough as it is, you take those two on as clients and I’ll have the higher-ups demanding I put you in a cage for interfering with an investigation.” His hand landed on my arm—a light touch, more grandfatherly than official cop. “Let us do what we do best. Here.” He shoved a page into my hand. “You want to help out go hit the streets and spread the word about the baby.”

I looked at the information sheet. The color photo showed Liam in all of his glory, his eyes barely open under the red fuzz covering his tiny head. It was a generic hospital photograph taken not long after his birth.

“Go save their world.” Hank nodded at the Callendars.

The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside, leaving him behind.

“I’ll go get my cape,” I replied as the steel shutters closed.

The new cell phone Bran had bought me had all the bells and whistles, including the ability to take photographs. I pressed the paper against the elevator wall and took the shot, making sure to keep the tiny baby face in focus.

It took a few seconds to send the photograph and a few more to dial the number myself.

The elevator doors opened as the connection came through.

“Rebecca. What a surprise.” Jess wasn’t lying, the shock evident in her words. “What’s this picture?”

“I need a favor.” It was like gargling bleach.

“Really.” The curiosity overrode the lack of etiquette. “A favor. From me.”

“You owe me after all the things I’ve done, all the help I’ve given you and the family.” I took a deep breath, feeling the nervous flutters in my stomach threaten to break free. “I need you to call a hunt.” I spoke quickly, afraid what would happen if I sat and thought about the words. “The picture is of Liam Callendar. He was stolen from a hotel room within the last few hours. Punk took the diaper bag and all the supplies but you know how fast babies go through stuff. People would notice a guy being awkward with a baby, unsure how to handle him. I need our people to be on the lookout for someone acting suspicious.”

“What happened to the mother?” I heard tapping on the line—Jess texting to the Pride. The electronic alert was going out even as we spoke. She wasn’t waiting for my reasons.

“Murdered. Shot in the back of the head.” The image of Molly Callendar’s shattered skull popped into my mind’s eye, twisting my stomach into knots.

“And this is a
human
baby.”

“Yes.”

“Why are we helping you find him? The police have their own informants and systems for this. AMBER Alert and so forth. Children go missing every day and it breaks my heart but what’s so special about this one?”

I drew a deep breath. “He’s Bran’s half brother.”

The silence hung between us for a few seconds.

“I see. Consider it done,” Jess replied in a calm, measured voice. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we have something.” The line went dead. I’d been expecting an interrogation or at least a reprimand for asking for Felis help in a purely human matter.

I wasn’t sure what the price was going to be for asking Jess for this favor but I was willing to pay it.

The lobby was full of hustle and bustle, the usual perp walk of innocent criminals going in and out. But things were different with the news that a baby was missing, an added urgency infecting everyone. People walked faster, phones answered quicker.

Even the hookers looked concerned, one stopping to drag a bright red neon fingernail across the bottom of the brand-new poster of Liam stuck on the bulletin board. She shook her head and mumbled something to the man beside her, who thumped the floor with his walking stick.