Degrees of Darkness, page 40
Remy’s labored breathing robbed him of precious air and he grew lightheaded. He shoved the letter away and pressed his backside into the chair.
A trust. In his name. All that money given to him. Blood money. Life had dealt him awful debilitating blows, stealing everything he’d held dear and loved. And in return, he’d gotten slapped with a hefty inheritance never meant for him in the first place.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he hung his head. There was no way he could reveal any of this to Anderson or Moreno. If he had a personal connection to this case, Moreno would yank him from it. Protocol would demand it. But for the people close to him who were at risk, for Cody — the woman he loved — Remy must remain on as lead detective. There were too many variables at stake and the biggest one was the connection to Jared Savard. That wild card alone was enough to make Remy do something he would have never considered before.
Breaking the rules.
Blowing air like a man winded, he tackled the rest of the letter.
“This must come as a great shock to you, and I don’t expect you to understand. I didn’t. All I knew of your situation was it cost you dearly. But it’s time you learned how your life here in Dallas came about.”
Remy swallowed, turned to the next page, and leaned forward.
“When you first arrived, I arranged for your transfer from NOPD into DPD patrol. I had your dossier sealed, not even the mayor can access your records without my knowledge, and be certain many have tried. I arranged everything for you, down to your home. Once you were settled, I stepped back. I kept an eye on you, and I was shocked at your fast track to detective.
“But this also alerted someone else. You are in grave danger. And more so if I’ve been murdered. But I rest assured in the knowledge that if my life is stolen by another, then Remy LeBeau, you will find the killer. Do what you wish with the money. I hope you’ll use it to pay back those who ruined your life.
“God Speed, Roger McBride.”
Remy let the letter float onto the tabletop. His revenge against his enemies was well compensated.
But at what cost to his soul?
Chapter Twenty
Last night had been busy for homicide. Remy weaved through the maze of empty pizza and fast food boxes to his desk. Tossing a stray Starbucks cup in the trash, he sank into his chair. The weather got warm too fast. They were going to be up to their eyeballs in cases soon.
Anderson was already settled at his desk and clicking away on his computer.
“Why are you here so early?” Remy logged onto his computer.
Anderson flicked his gaze Remy’s way, then focused on his computer screen. “I’m trying to close this McBride case.”
Marvelous, he was still pissed. This was going to make for a long day. Tonight’s hoopla would be a good reprieve from his partner’s animosity. Rifling through the things he’d brought with him, Remy cursed. He’d forgotten to go through the yearbook last night. And it was still at the condo. “Do you have anything new?”
Anderson pushed back from his computer, grabbed a small file off the corner of his desk, and tossed it across to Remy. “Maybe a face to our killer.”
Rotating the sheets, Remy peered at the grainy, colored photo of a brunette with Plain Jane features and brown eyes. She wore a police dress-uniform, with the hat tucked under her arm. The unit patches were scrambled, and trees were the only things in the background — not much to determine what city or area she came from.
“From what Gerry across the pond told us, I suspected Candace had been police trained. She doesn’t cross me as the type to tolerate the harsher military regs.”
Remy flipped the page to the service record. “Kendra Lilimeyer. Any other known aliases?”
“Not that I could find. What I do know is in the last ten years, there have only been eight women who actually made it in SWAT. And of those eight, only two in the country who trained as snipers. Kendra aka Candace was one of them. The other retired two years ago. Kendra went MIA.”
As if Remy didn’t know, given the timeline of Humbert’s death. “When?”
“Seven years ago.”
Massaging his clean-shaven face, he scanned the rest of the document.
Anderson’s chair squeaked. “You’re turn. What was the deal with the lawyer and you running off yesterday?”
His partner was as persistent as a bulldog. Though Remy refused to disclose the contents of the envelope there was one thing he could reveal from his brief conversation with Ms. Dymond. One that pertained to their case.
“That text message he sent was to the lawyer. Ms. Dymond was here because of that?”
Anderson frowned. “Why’d he send a text message to another lawyer? Right before he was shot?”
Focusing on the Kendra/Candace dossier, Remy fingered the edge of the paper. “He must have spotted the shooter. Probably had it pre-written in case.”
“LeBeau, it doesn’t make sense. One, how’d he know he was going to die? And two, what the hell does ‘It’s time’ mean?”
Remy resisted the urge to throw the dossier at his partner. If Anderson kept pushing, Remy was going to run out of half-truths. “Think about it. The money dried up. He had to have pissed off whoever was paying him. To me, that’s a good indication that he suspected he was going to die. As to what the text meant; all Ms. Dymond could say was she had to move forward with a condition in his will. That’s it.”
Anderson stared at Remy with narrowed eyes. Damn it to hell, he should have never told Anderson about the Humbert case. Or let him in his home.
“Then what was in the envelope?”
Cold dread wove through Remy. “What envelope?”
“The huge-ass envelope you were trying to hide when you left. What was in it?”
“It’s personal. It has nothing to do with this case.”
Anderson smacked the edge of his desk. “Bullshit. Whatever that lawyer told you wasn’t just about the text message. That conversation would have taken five minutes tops, you were in there for twenty. And why not discuss it in interrogation? You’re lying to me. Something in that envelope pertains to this case.” His face slackened. “Shit. Are you concealing evidence?”
Remy’s heart accelerated like a gunned motor. “Arrête.”
Stop.
Anderson bent over his desktop and pointed a finger at Remy. “You are.” His harsh whisper made Remy’s heart stall.
Forcing himself to swallow, Remy braced his hands on his desk and slowly stood. “I’m not. I brought you in on one thing from my past and suddenly everything I do or say is suspect.”
“You haven’t given me reason to think otherwise.”
“I asked you to trust me. To have my back on this.” Remy glared. Was his partner capable of doing what Remy feared? Would he figuratively stab him in the back? “If I was concealing evidence, why would I admit it to you?”
The scuff of shoes against the thin carpet sent ice through his veins.
“Mind explaining that last statement, Sergeant?”
Mon Dieu, Moreno would have to show up at the wrong time. Straight as a pirogue pole, he faced the lieutenant. “Sorry, sir.”
“Sorry, sir, what?” Moreno crossed his arms. His reading glasses dangled from a finger. “I want an explanation to that statement about concealing evidence.”
Behind him, Anderson’s chair squeaked. The sound scratched along Remy’s spine, and he gritted his teeth.
This wasn’t a face-off with Cody. Remy couldn’t get away with the silent treatment. The lieutenant would get an answer one way or another.
“Sergeant, need I remind you this is my department. If you don’t talk, I swear I’ll rip this case from you so fast your head will spin for a month.”
Suddenly the air in the bullpen thickened like roux for gumbo. Remy glanced over Moreno’s shoulder and noticed the stares from the others. He met the lieutenant’s hardened stare.
“Sir, I’d rather not discuss this in the open.”
“My office. Both of you.” Iron Man did an about-face and stalked into his office.
Not waiting on Anderson, Remy followed and stationed himself at attention in front of Moreno’s desk. Anderson closed the door and joined him.
“Answers. Now.” The clipped words jabbed Remy.
“Sir, I was making a point with my partner. Nothing more.”
“About what?”
Bon Dieu, he needed help to explain this. Good-bye unblemished record. “Apparently, we disagree about the reason why Ms. Dymond was here.”
Anderson made a disgusted noise.
Moreno braced his hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Remind me, LeBeau, what was the reason she was here?”
“To explain why Roger McBride texted her.”
Moreno’s gaze slid to Anderson. “And what was that explanation, Detective?”
“According to LeBeau, it was to alert her to do something with his will. He didn’t think the rest of their conversation pertained to the case.”
Acidic Spanish flowed like tequila at a wake. Moreno pushed off his desk then paced the floor. “I have a damn floor full of detectives working overtime on a rash of murders. And my two best are bickering like a bunch of children. If I wanted to listen to childish behavior I’d go home and listen to my teenagers.”
Some of the stiffness in Remy’s shoulders drained. “Lieutenant, I — ”
“I don’t care!” Moreno dropped into his chair. “You don’t throw around comments about concealing evidence.” He pinned Remy with a glare that would have made a two-bit criminal piss his pants. “Are you concealing evidence in this case, Sergeant?”
Someone shoot him. If Moreno ever learned the truth, Remy’s ass would be out of a job. Possibly rotting in jail. He tilted his chin a notch. “No, sir.”
Moreno got up, stalked around the desk, and poked a finger in Remy’s chest. “You’re toeing a fine line with me, Sergeant. One more foul up and you’re done.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get out of here.” Moreno positioned his back to them.
Stepping back and turning on his heel, Remy followed Anderson out of the office.
“Don’t screw this up,” Anderson muttered before marching to his desk.
Remy’s jaw spasmed. Why hadn’t he just kept driving last week until he reached Nevada?
• • •
Strains of Vivaldi danced through the house. The soft violins didn’t match the bold Southwestern décor of the Gregory home. Cody expected to hear a spicy Spanish rhythm or Mexican guitars, not a yawn fest.
She drilled her fingers along her hips, and scowled at Kim. “You act like this is my wedding dress.”
“Arms up.”
Cody flung her arms up on top of her head and heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Maybe it is your wedding dress.” Kim’s eyebrows bobbed.
Nearly falling off the chair, Cody regained her balance, with some help from the dressmaker, and snarled, “Not on your life.”
“I did good, didn’t I?” Kim asked the pixie blonde, who was drawing in the slack at Cody’s midsection.
“Perfect.” Glory Reardon gave a thumbs-up. “I can tighten it here and there, but otherwise, this dress fits her to a T.”
Kim rubbed her palms together. “It’s like you had Cody in mind when you designed it.”
Cody’s arms lost height. “Wait a minute. Glory made this?”
“Yup,” Glory said around the pins in her mouth.
“Then what’s with the magazine page? How’d it get in there?”
Hand on her trim jean and pink-rhinestone-belted hip, Kim gave Cody a wry grin. “How do you think we got the backing to start the business?” She twirled a finger in the air. “Gotta give the investors a reason to shuck out the dough. And that li’l number you’re wearing brought in quite a bit of it, to boot.”
Cody crossed her arms. “So, I’m going to be a walking model. Great. It’s bad enough you’re making me wear a dress. Now I’ll have everybody in the entire place eyeing me like some high-priced filly on the auction block.”
An impish grin made its way across Kim’s lips. The bottom fell out of Cody’s stomach.
“It’s not everyone else in the room I’m concerned with. You’re gonna be eye candy for one man only.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake! That’s the reason why you wanted me to bring Remy? To show off my sex appeal?”
Kim shrugged one shoulder. “Well, not only. I did want to meet the guy who finally pulled Cody Lewis outta her rut.”
“I wasn’t in a rut.”
“Wanna bet?”
Fine, so maybe she had been, but it didn’t give Kim the right to treat her a Barbie doll and play dress up. Recalling the fevered kisses and how his hands had roamed her body brought heat to Cody’s face. He didn’t need some fancy dress to make him want her. Whatever allure she held over him worked just fine, thank you very much.
“Done.” Glory stepped back and beckoned Cody down from the chair.
Grabbing a fistful of dress, and with some assistance from Kim, she stepped off the chair. Cody turned her back to Kim. “Unhook me.”
“I’m taking liberties since it is my gala. But, Cody, you need to show that man your feminine side.” Kim’s nimble fingers worked quickly as she spoke.
“Remy’s well aware of my feminine side.”
Kim peered over Cody’s shoulder. “Is he now?”
Heat infused her neck and cheeks. “Not what you think.”
“Who said I thought it was anything specific? You’re a jeans-only girl. And I’d give my left hand to guess he’s never seen you in anything else.” Kim patted her bare back. “Done. Go take it off.”
Plastering the bodice to her body, Cody entered the bathroom. “You know, the only dress I swore I’d ever wear was Momma’s wedding dress.” She gingerly stepped out of the ivory leather ensemble.
“I know,” Kim said through the door. “Think of it this way — this dress might get you to the altar this time.”
Cody cracked the door and handed out the dress through the gap. “Don’t count on any maid of honor privileges so soon.”
“Why not? It’s not like Remy’s anything like Austin.” Kim took it from her.
“Not going there.” Cody rammed her legs in her jeans, relishing the soft joy of worn denim.
“Fine, the ex is off-limits. But what’s so wrong with Remy that you can’t see yourself married to him?”
Exiting the bathroom while she buttoned her blouse, Cody flopped on a nearby loveseat. It had been a long time since she’d been able to talk to someone about personal matters. JC’s reputation as a guy was one he’d love to uphold. But this was Kim. A woman. And Cody’s confidant.
Yet neither Kim nor JC knew what really happened between Cody and Austin. And that was how Cody wanted it to stay.
“I can sense this dark past behind Remy, and it’s something he absolutely refuses to talk about. It scares me sometimes, the not knowing.”
Kim set a box on the floor and joined Cody. “Maybe it’s something you shouldn’t worry about. Just focus on now and what can be.”
“It’s not so simple.” Cody drove her fingers through her curls. “Whatever happened to him in New Orleans fuels him now. And it gives him an excuse to drive a wedge between us.”
“Or maybe, you’re reading in to it too much. He’s a guy, Cody. They tend to like no-strings-attached kinda relationships.”
“Hello? You’re making my point here. Remember my ex, Austin? He treated me like crap. Took all the benefits and gave me nothing but hell in return.”
The corners of Kim’s mouth bent down. “But you love Remy, don’t you?”
“I … uh … ”
Kim stilled Cody’s erratically moving hands and pressed them into her lap. “You have it plastered all over your face when you talk about him. JC said as much, too.” She gave Cody a tepid smile. “Does Remy know?”
“No. And he can’t.”
“Why not?”
Heaving a sigh, Cody swiveled away and played connect the dots on the wall. Kim laid her hands on Cody’s shoulders and twisted her around.
Chin tilted down, Kim peered into Cody’s eyes. “I would think telling him how you feel might make all the difference in the world.”
Shrugging out of her friend’s grasp, Cody bolted up from the loveseat and padded to a window. Arms wrapped about her body, she stared at the wide pasture dotted by baby blue-eyes, foxglove, and pink evening primrose. Maybe staying home to see Kim again hadn’t been such a good idea. Subjected to many of Kim’s personal analyses in the past, Cody should have suspected today wouldn’t be any different. If she let Kim continue, then the whole truth would come out. And right now, no one needed to know about the cravings or how bad the PTSD had gotten.
“You’re doing it again.”
She spun away from the window and glared at Kim. “Doing what?”
“Deflecting. Trying to bury all the bad things that happened in your life.”
The fight rushed from her system, and she leaned against the window frame. What was the point? Harder she tried to hide it, the easier it became for people to see.
Kim hugged her close, resting her chin on Cody’s shoulder.
“I know who kidnapped me, beat me, and tried to kill me. And I know why it really happened. But sometimes, Kim, this world scares me.”
“It scares me, too. But that’s not what we’re supposed to focus on. JC told me you’re struggling with the aftereffects of the kidnapping.”
“What does JC know?”
“Apparently, plenty, considering he’s been with you almost every day since.”
