Page 49 of Captured

Ah, a nod of respect. “Chase. How are things on the hunt for the White House?” He hesitated, likely shocked my guess had been correct.

“Frustrating as usual. Politicians are a pain in the ass. What can I do for you?” Now his tone was clipped.

I glanced at my watch, the one I never removed, and sighed. The time difference was four hours, which meant he could be on his way to another amazing event. “I’ll make this brief. I need all the information you have on Kendall Martin’s murder.”

He seemed shocked at my demand, his breath catching. I resisted the urge to ask him if a cat had gotten his tongue. If he wasn’t careful, I’d pull it out with pliers.

“I’m not certain what you’re talking about,” he said evasively.

I laughed in a way that should tell him in no uncertain terms to cut the fucking crap.

Chase cleared his throat. “There was a break-in at the house and she walked in on it. The perpetrator was never found, only a few pieces of art stolen.”

“Uh-huh. Translate that for me, why don’t you?”

The man sighed, taking his goddamn sweet time before answering me. “Fine, Styx. Gideon was suspected of the horrible crime, but he was away in New York at a fundraiser for a buddy of his, photographs taken only moments before the confirmed time of Kendall’s death. My partner and I did our best to tie him to it since we were aware of his deep connections to several mafia organizations even then. Of course, he wanted the press to think he’d been the target, one of his enemies breaking into the house, but my partner and I knew better.”

“The murder wasn’t committed at the house. Was it?”

“Doubtful,” he offered. “The woman was tortured, the blood loss horrific. Yet there was very little blood at the scene. Just enough to make the crime look horrific. I was all over it, but the then police chief shut me down completely. It was a shame since the little girl had been the one to find her mother. I doubt she’s ever been the same. Bastard of a father. Now, that needs to stay between you and me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it would appear Gideon Martin is getting power hungry, determined to remove anyone who crosses him.”

“Keep going.” I drained my drink, already having a sixth sense about where this was going.

“Because the bastard thinks he’s going to become the next president of the United States and while you might think me corrupt, all I can say is God help us if he’s elected.”

I smiled and slowly eased my glass to my desk. That was something I hadn’t learned as of yet and was grateful to know. “Well, I assure you he won’t make it to the first caucus. Email me the photographs of the murder to my secure email.”

“The files have been flagged. People will know.”

“What fucking people matter, Chase?” I jerked up from the chair, my anger increasing. “You’re the goddamn chief of police. You have men and women answering to you.”

“Yeah, but who do you think is running the show in Boston?”

I burst into laughter. “So Gideon owns more people than you do. How fascinating for me and troubling for you. Find a fucking way. If you don’t, I assure you that you won’t have a chance in hell of keeping a single part of that posh life you’ve built. Do you hear me?” I was unnerved that I’d resorted to this kind of threat. That wasn’t like me at all.

“You don’t know what I’m up against.”

“And I don’t care. Just get the report to me of Mrs. Martin’s death along with your notes, Chase. I’m certain I’ll find those fascinating. I expect to see what I asked for within three hours.” I ended the call, holding the phone to my head, thinking about what he’d told me. Perhaps Gideon didn’t want any baggage along for his ride into stardom or perhaps Zeus wasn’t interested in having a scumbag as the next president.

I’d need to be prudent in determining how I wanted to handle this, but it was always good to have a full deck of information at my disposal.

I leaned against the thick leather office chair, resting my head on the back, staring up at the ceiling. Gideon was quickly becoming a pain in my ass, a man who deserved to have a bullet driven into his brain, but in my mind, that was too good for him.

And I was curious as to why the Boston police had yet to be notified of the loss of Gideon’s guards. Maybe Mr. Martin was just happy she was gone, cutting his losses.

Yeah, I hated the man almost as much as I had my own father.

The same went for Creed and Easton, all three of us discussing how to end our father’s life.

When we’d finally made our decision to cut the man to ribbons in exchange for our freedom, that had been the only time we’d worked together.

Why was it that I wondered if it had been a precursor to something bigger?

I closed my eyes, rolling the tip of my index finger around the rim of my glass.

---