Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(28)

“I’m sure,” Max answered.

“I was at The Core right before he vanished. If we’d stayed just a little longer…” She shook her head. “We need to get agents in that bar. Curtis Weatherly also visited that place shortly before he vanished. The Core is a link.”

Dante nodded. “I’ll get Ramirez and Daniels to talk to the staff again. We interviewed them all before and ran background checks, but everyone turned up clean.” His head inclined. “So we’ll just look deeper, and we’ll make sure we keep our eyes on that place.”

Shouldn’t have left Quinlan. Guilt ate at Max’s gut. If he hadn’t left his brother in The Core…

“I can get some plainclothes cops in there ASAP,” Dante continued. “We’ll keep a surveillance team in The Core from now on.”

A little too late to help Quinlan.

Dante rolled his shoulders and yanked open the door. “S-sorry, boss. Didn’t realize you were… occupied.” His southern drawl was thicker, his posture a bit weaker. “I’ll come back later.”

“You do that,” Max called out, voice tight.

And then the guy was gone.

? ? ?

Sam slipped upstairs when Max and Frank were on the telephone again with the bank. She moved as quickly and quietly as she could. Her gaze darted into the rooms, scanning, searching—

There.

The closed door. The one at the end of the long hallway. Quinlan Malone still had a room at his father’s house.

She twisted the knob, and the door opened silently. Sam didn’t turn on the lights. No need. The computer sat waiting for her, right in the middle of Quinlan’s gleaming glass desk.

Sam closed the door behind her. The bedroom was huge, more of a suite than just one room, but… there was nothing personal there. No pictures. No ball caps. No books or magazines. No intimate touches.

A bed with a black bedspread. A chest of drawers. The desk—so neat and organized.

And the laptop. Just waiting.

Like a hotel room. Ready for any guest, not a particular person. Shaking her head, Sam eased into the chair and booted up the computer. Time to get to work. She’d start with Quinlan’s laptop and use a batch script to crack the network encryption. Once she had enabled remote access to the systems in the house, the computers would be hers. Then she’d access all the e-mail accounts and scan the drives to see just what sort of information the Malones and their staff might be hiding.

The computer beeped as the system came online. Then the password screen came up.

For the first time that day, Sam smiled. This was her favorite part of the job.

? ? ?

“Sir, are you sure you want to make a f-five million dollar cash withdrawal?” The banker’s voice quivered over the speaker phone.

Frank’s stare held Max’s. “Yes.”

“I’ll draw up the paperwork,” John Adams said, “but this is going to take some time, sir. I can’t have the money ready for at least forty-eight hours.”

“Now,” Max mouthed.

“I need the money now,” Frank ordered. “Cut the paperwork bullshit, John, and get my money ready, understand?”

“There’s no way I can get that amount ready before—”

“Get it ready. I’m taking it today.” No discussion, just a flat demand.

And that’s why he was called Fuck ’em Frank.

John’s sigh drifted over the line. “Sir, you don’t seem to realize just how—”

An ear-splitting scream ripped through the house.

Samantha.

Max leapt from the chair and ran for the door. Frank followed right on his heels. The banker’s voice droned behind them.

Max’s feet pounded over the tiles. “Samantha!”

The scream echoed again. Even louder now and then…

Retching.

He spun, sliding around the corner, and saw Beth curled on the floor, her long blond hair streaming around her face.

Not Samantha.

“Beth?” Frank demanded. “Woman, what the hell were you screaming—”

Her head lifted. She shoved back her hair, and her eyes fixed on them. “B-box…”

Footsteps thudded behind them. “Max!” Samantha’s voice now. Fierce.

He didn’t look back. He’d seen the box. Small and brown, lying on the floor with the top torn open.

Beth pushed back, crawling like a crab away from the box.

A fist squeezed Max’s heart. “Where did it come from?”

“I-it was on the steps. The guard put it there, I-I thought…” Beth sucked in a sharp breath. “I thought one… of the m-messengers had brought it from the office.”

Max bent down and reached for the box. Jesus.

Beth whimpered.

Samantha grabbed his hand. “Don’t.” Her soft skin pressed against his. Her mouth came close to his ear as she whispered, “Not bare skin… we have to check for fingerprints.”

His hand fisted.

“Use this.” She dug a pen out of her pocket.

He took it, his fingers rock steady. He shoved the top off the box with the tip of the pen. Fuck me.

A bloody finger lay nestled inside.

Beth started crying.

A ring finger, one still adorned with his brother’s lucky horseshoe ring.