Stop at Nothing (15 page)

A divorce like theirs would've made local headlines, maybe national. Lawyers would have to dig into their finances, including those of Curtis's business. If Abby could uncover all the illegal activities Curtis and Whitmore were involved in, a very nasty and public divorce would've certainly exposed at least some of it—maybe all of it—even if Abby hadn't uncovered the truth in her investigation.

And now Curtis was most likely dead.

“Anyway,” Emma said with a shrug, “I broke things off with Travis when I was in Chicago. I told him I didn't think it would be right to continue our acquaintance, all things considered.”

Abby's brows twitched together in a frown. “How did he take it?”

Emma smiled but Abby didn't miss the fact that her chin trembled when she said, “Fine. He wasn't upset at all.”

Obviously, the man had meant something to her sister. Even if they'd had just a sexual affair, the fact that he'd failed to be upset at her ending things clearly hurt Emma.

Abby reached over and squeezed her sister's hand. “You deserve better, Emma. You always have. You know that, don't you?”

Emma sniffed and shrugged. “Yeah. Of course.”

“I mean it,” Abby insisted.

Emma sighed. “I'm not a twentysomething anymore, Abby. And I've never been beautiful. Not like you.”

Abby gaped at the elder sister she'd always found stunning, wondering how she could not realize how gorgeous she was. “Who told you that you aren't beautiful? You're even more amazing now than you were in your twenties, Em. I'm not lying. Trust me, you turn heads whenever you walk into a room. Deputy Bradford certainly couldn't get enough of an eyeful.”

Emma's lips curled into a quiet smile at the mention of Abby's colleague. “He's a very kind man. I'm sure he would've been as attentive to anyone in his charge.”

Abby couldn't argue there. But she'd seen the way Adam looked at her sister. He was a goner. But now wasn't the time to press the issue. Emma was going to need time to heal, time to discover that she had a great deal to offer a man worthy of her love. Abby had a feeling that her sister's lack of confidence and self-value was thanks in large part to her husband's calculated cruelty.

“Just know that I'm here for you, Em,” she said. “We'll get through this together. Just like we have everything else, okay?”

She squeezed her sister's hand again and offered her an encouraging smile while on the inside her guts were twisting with rage at the man who'd treated her sister with such disrespect. That son of a bitch deserved whatever he got. And if he wasn't already lying dead in a ditch somewhere as a result of his own nefarious dealings, then Abby sure as hell would make sure he'd pay under the law. She didn't give a shit what Patrick Hamilton had to say about it.

Kyle tossed his phone onto the seat next to him, frustrated that he still hadn't heard back from Peterman. The way the guy had talked, he was going to be questioning Rhodes right away. Hell, maybe Peterman wasn't as over everything that had gone down between them as he'd let on. Maybe he was still pissed at Kyle and going to go around him on the investigation to try to bring down Tartarus on his own.

He wouldn't have blamed him. Kyle knew he didn't deserve any help from Peterman. Still, he'd hoped the guy would come through.

Of course, thanks to Hamilton's unwillingness to provide the data to Abby again, it wasn't like Kyle could give Peterman or anyone else anything more to go on. Just his word. And he'd made sure that didn't mean shit.

God, he was a fuckup.

No wonder Mac wasn't ready to make amends after just one conversation. His father had clearly mistrusted Kyle's motives in coming to him and trying to work together. After so many years of being at each other's throats, Kyle didn't know if he'd ever be able to have a relationship with his father. But for his brothers' sakes and for Abby's, he'd keep trying.

Sighing, he snatched his phone up and called Tom. He grinned when he heard his brother's slow, easygoing drawl. “Hey, loser. How's it going?”

Tom's deep chuckle made Kyle's grin widen. “What the hell do you want now?” Tom demanded, although Kyle could tell he was smiling. “Damn, you're a needy little bastard.”

“Bite me,” Kyle shot back. “You got anything on Maxwell for me yet?”

“Yep. Gimme a sec.”

“By the way, add to your to-do list bringing in Preston Whitmore and his dad for questioning. Hamilton stonewalled us. He's determined to handle things himself to keep it quiet.”

“Dad's going to have my ass if he finds out I'm helping you,” Tom said, but Kyle could hear the clacking of a keyboard in the background. “But I'll see what I can do about the Whitmores while I'm in the office today.”

“Don't you ever go home, man?” Kyle asked while he waited for his brother to finish typing.

Tom grunted. “Not much point these days.”

Kyle wasn't quite sure what to say. He knew what the last three years had been like without Abby, how long and lonely the nights had been when he lay awake in his bed wishing she was in his arms. He couldn't imagine what his brother had been going through after losing his wife in such a violent way. And Kyle suddenly felt like a total asshole for not checking in more often to find out.

“Tommy, don't you think it might be time to—”

“Department's not gonna run itself,” Tom interrupted. “Dad's retiring in a couple of years. Someone's going to need to fill the seat.”

All righty then. Message received.
Clearly, his brother's personal life was off-limits.
Copy that.

“Gabe wants it,” Kyle told him, studiously avoiding the topic of his brother's dead wife. “Wouldn't hurt him to take on a little more responsibility.”

Tom laughed heartily at that. “So when did you suddenly become an expert on responsibility? Didn't you just get fired from your assignment in New Orleans?”

“I wasn't fired,” Kyle grumbled, the comment stinging more than he wanted to admit. “I was reassigned.”

“Okay, okay,” Tom replied. “
Reassigned
then. Have it your way. So you want to hear what I found out on Maxwell?”

“Lay it on me.”

“Abby was right—Maxwell wasn't where he was supposed to be. But he wasn't where she thought he was either.” There was more clacking. “For the first part of his business trip, he was in Chicago.”

Kyle frowned. “Chicago? He lied to his own business partner about where he was going? Why?”

“Got me,” Tom said. “But that's where he was. From what Abby told us about her sister's travels, it looks like he left Chicago two days before his wife did. He drove down to Indy in a rental. We have footage of him going through the tollbooths. Definitely him.”

Kyle shook his head, trying to figure out why Maxwell would've changed things up on the sly. Had he known that someone was after him? Was he trying to elude the fate that appeared to have caught up to him—if the picture of the dead man was, in fact, him?

“So we should look for him down in Indy,” Kyle mused.

“Guess again.”

Kyle's brows shot up. “He's not in Indy?”

“Nope,” Tom said. “The flight plan his pilot filed shows he left Indy bound for Miami. And guess where the plane went after that.”

“Hell if I know,” Kyle told him, but the moment he said it, a thought occurred to him. “Wait, you're not telling me…”

“New Orleans.”

Kyle cursed under his breath. “He was in New Orleans at the same time Emma was kidnapped.”

“Well, he was supposed to be. That's where his plane went, but there's no evidence he was on it, so it's hard to say if he was in New Orleans or not. But it's definitely looking that way.”

Kyle's eyes narrowed as he thought over the implications. If Maxwell had pissed off the wrong person on his trip to New Orleans, it made sense that the photo Abby had received would've come from there.

He
really
needed to get in touch with Peterman.

“Shit,” Kyle cursed on a harsh sigh. “I was hoping the dead man in the photo was someone else. But it's looking less likely.”

“Sorry, man.”

Kyle stared at the back of the Navigator driving ahead of him, hating that he was going to have to break the news to Emma that her husband was most likely dead. And if he'd been killed by the bastards Kyle had become acquainted with while on the human-trafficking case he'd worked in the Big Easy, odds were good they'd never find Maxwell's body. It had only been by chance that he and Peterman had found the one they had.

It was the decomposing corpse of a fifteen-year-old girl who'd been savagely raped and beaten, her head bashed in until it was impossible to see the beautiful girl she'd once been. They'd only been able to identify her using dental records from the few teeth that hadn't been knocked out. Kyle tried to convince himself that she'd only been brutalized by
one
sick son of a bitch. The other, more horrifying possibility made his blood boil with rage.

The image of that poor girl had haunted him every day since then, no matter how hard he tried to forget it. He shook his head, attempting to banish it nonetheless.

“Kyle? You okay?”

Kyle started, having forgotten Tom was still on the line. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for your help, Tommy.”

He'd just disconnected the call with his brother when his phone rang. He glanced at the number before answering. “What do you have?”

There was a slight pause before Peterman sighed. “Not a lot.”

Kyle's grip tightened on the phone. “Rhodes wouldn't talk?”

“More like
couldn't
,” Peterman replied, his tone telling Kyle he was about to get some seriously shitty news. “He ghosted on us. Got out this morning and has completely vanished—hasn't even shown up at his apartment or any other usual haunts.”

Kyle held the phone away from his ear and clamped his jaws tight to keep from yelling in frustration. As it was, a string of furious curses still managed to slip out.

“Dawson? Dawson, you there?”

Kyle brought the phone back to his ear but still had to take a moment to compose himself before asking, “Who was in to see him last?”

“His attorney,” Peterman told him. “They brought that slimy little shit in for questioning, but the guy is playing stupid, says he has no idea where Rhodes could be.”

Kyle shook his head. “I don't know… Something doesn't feel right, Peterman. That attorney has been way too involved with Rhodes all along. He knows something.”

Peterman snorted. “You don't gotta tell me that. I can smell bullshit a mile off. Why do you think you and I got along so well?”

Kyle's mouth hitched up in one corner in spite of the bad news, glad for his former partner's attempt at a little levity. “Yeah, well, don't go gettin' all sentimental on me.”

Peterman grunted. “No chance of that, pal. Now what the hell do we do from here if Rhodes doesn't turn up? Without him we're fucked. Our whole case hinged on his testimony.”

Kyle wished like hell he knew what to do, but unless he could figure out the crap with Abby's case and somehow connect it to the case he'd had to walk away from in New Orleans, there wasn't shit he could do.

“If I come up with anything,” he finally said to Peterman on a frustrated sigh, “you'll be the first to know.”

* * *

The sky was ablaze with orange and crimson by the time Abby turned off the main road and onto the winding gravel path that led to her family's cabin. She couldn't suppress a shudder as the shadows deepened, glad that they'd made good time and weren't arriving after dark. The cabin had been their refuge as children when their mother needed to get away from the prying eyes and flapping gums of the small-town biddies who couldn't seem to mind their own business where the Morrows were concerned.

Although Abby associated the cabin with peace and tranquility, the woods were a different story. She'd also hated the fact that they were miles from other neighbors, isolated from the rest of the world and surrounded by trees on pretty much every side. Even now, she felt that uneasiness creeping in on her, prickling the skin at the back of her neck and slithering down her spine.

“Do you think we'll be safe here?”

Abby nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her sister's voice. “Jesus!”

“Sorry.” Emma giggled. “I forgot how jumpy you get at the cabin.”

Abby gulped down several deep breaths before responding. “I just hate how dark it gets, I guess.” She forced a tremulous smile. “But, yes, you'll be safe here. Plus, I'm sticking around with you to make sure. It's just for a few days until you feel safe going back to the house.”

Emma sighed. “I don't know that I'll ever feel safe again.”

Abby glanced into the rearview mirror, glad to see Tyler had conked out, his mouth hanging agape just enough that a little bit of drool had accumulated at the corner. She grinned, then wondered if he'd ever sleep that soundly again if they determined the body in the photo was his father.

Fortunately, the cabin came into view at that moment, rescuing her from having to respond to her sister's concern. She knew she should've said the right thing, should've assured Emma that she'd get over her ordeal, that in no time at all she'd be able to move on, and that her sense of security would return soon.

But the truth was, Abby had no idea if any of that would happen. She couldn't be sure that Emma would ever have a day where she wasn't constantly looking over her shoulder. Or that she'd be able to not wake up in a cold sweat. She just prayed Emma was made of stronger stuff than their mother.

Abby parked in front of the cabin, the stop jolting Tyler from his slumber. “We're here!” he shouted. He opened the car door and hopped out before she'd even shut off the engine, racing up the broad wooden steps that led to the wrap-around porch.

“You coming, sweetie?” Emma asked as she got out of the car.

Abby nodded absently. “Yeah, yeah. You go on in. I'll be there in a bit.”

She sat in the car for a moment longer, surveying the two-story log cabin in front of her. To call the structure a cabin was a bit of a misnomer, though. For most people, “cabin” would bring to mind a modest little log house. But not the Morrows. Oh no. Such a humble home would've been an embarrassment. This one was two stories of sprawling luxury—complete with sunken living room, formal dining room, game room, sauna, and guest rooms galore—that just happened to be made of logs. It was a physical representation of the extravagant lies that had been part of her family's elaborate farce. Ironically, the vacation home was the only thing of value her mother had managed to hang on to when the glamorous life they'd led was revealed to be nothing but smoke and mirrors.

“Abby?”

Abby turned her attention away from the house and toward her window where Kyle stood, his brows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded and opened the door, planning to help Emma unload the back of the SUV. But before Abby could take a step, Kyle pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair. “You sure you want to stay here?” he murmured. “I can still get Tom to send someone else.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I'm staying.” She turned her face up to his and forced a smile. “I'm too old to be afraid of the boogeyman hiding in the woods.”

He glanced around, surveying the woods that surrounded them, thick with full spring foliage. He was clearly on edge as well. Even though the sun was still high in the sky, the dark shadows the trees cast robbed them of much of the sunlight. “Not the boogeyman I'm worried about.”

Abby made sure to keep her voice low when she said, “Do you think the kidnapper will try again?”

Kyle shook his head, but his frown deepened. “Nah, he got what he wanted.”

“But you think someone else might try something,” she replied.

He took her face in his hands and smiled, but it seemed forced to her. “I'm sure it's fine. You wanted to make sure Emma and Tyler had someone here watching over them after everything that's happened. Well, I feel the same way about you. I don't like the thought of you out here in the middle of nowhere without me.”

She pressed closer to him. “No one said you have to go. Stay here. With me.”

He groaned slightly, his sapphire eyes darkening with desire. “I'd love to. Trust me. But I think I might be taking a trip down to New Orleans.”

She lifted her brows. “Why? I thought you'd moved everything up here already.”