Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(39)

And waited.

She pounded harder, her knuckles protesting. “Julie? I saw your car.”

Nothing.

She pressed her ear to the peeling paint on the door and couldn’t hear a thing. Then she twisted the knob, and the door slid open.

Glancing quickly around, she couldn’t see anything or anybody. Only the trees moved, whistling a lonely tune in the wind. Gathering her breath, she shoved inside. The smell of mold instantly assailed her. “Julie?”

The bed was unmade, and Julie’s suitcase was open on the table with all the contents neatly organized. Zara strode over grungy orange shag carpet to glance inside the dimly lit bathroom. Toiletries were lined up on the counter—all high-end and from Julie’s time as the mayor’s wife. They looked incredibly out of place against the avocado-colored counter and rust-stained sink.

Julie was nowhere to be found.

Zara’s neck ached. Should she? Oh, she really shouldn’t. While her angel fought with her devil, she moved toward the suitcase and lifted a white cashmere sweater out of the way. Underwear and a bra were beneath it. She breathed out. Well, she was already committed. She lifted the silk panties and quickly went through every compartment of the suitcase, finding nothing but clothing and some costume jewelry that was pretty but not worth any money.

God. No drugs. She knew it. Guilt tried to slither through her.

Then she glanced at the rickety, scarred furniture. Would a druggie hide the evidence in their own suitcase? Probably not. Wincing at the dirty surfaces, she rapidly looked through the battered dresser and bed table before glancing beneath the mattress. No drugs.

Her shoulders relaxed. Thank God. Then heat climbed into her face. She’d known Julie for years, and she should’ve trusted her. But where was the three grand a month going? Or had Jay somehow created false receipts, which didn’t seem likely since it’d be so easy to prove.

As she straightened and headed for the doorway, she glanced around one more time. Reaching the torn curtains, she moved them aside to look into the empty parking area.

Where in the world was Julie?

*



In the late afternoon, Ryker parked the truck outside Zara’s office building on a semi-quiet street. Three stories high and made of red brick, the place appeared imposing. The law firm was on the top floor. When he dropped her off that morning, he’d made sure she promised to stay inside until he picked her up. The firm had excellent security, and he should know, considering he’d installed it.

Rain splattered down, and he twisted on the windshield wipers.

He’d been working since lunchtime, trying to track Greg down after searching their building. They’d found seven bugs placed throughout the offices and none in the apartments.

It had to be the kid. Nobody else knew they were in town. At least nobody who’d want to listen in on their conversations. Part of him wanted to shake the kid until his teeth fell out. The other part… Well, that one was somewhat impressed with the little shit.

Denver had suggested leaving the bugs in place to lure Greg back in. For now, Ryker needed to pick up Zara while Denver figured out how the kid had hacked into their security systems without leaving a trace.

Just who the hell was this kid?

Not only was Ryker on the hunt for Isobel Madison, but he also had Denver set search parameters in place for Greg, the mysterious genius boy.

Ryker’s attention shifted as Zara pushed out of the building, laughing at something Brock Hurst had said. The lawyer was on her heels, his briefcase bulging at his side.

Zara scanned the sidewalk and saw the truck. Her smile widened.

Damn if that didn’t feel good.

Ryker jumped from the truck and came around to open her door.

“Ryker,” Brock said, hunching his shoulders against the rain.

“Brock.” Ryker hooked Zara around the waist and lifted her into the truck, not missing the other man’s close scrutiny of the act. Were they about to have a problem?

Brock paused and switched hands with the overloaded briefcase. Rain matted his brown hair to his face, but he straightened to his full height. “It’s good to see you. How long are you in town this time?”

Ryker half turned from Zara to stand eye to eye with the lawyer. “Why?”

Brock blinked intelligent eyes. “We might have a job for you. It’s a nasty divorce case, and there may be drugs involved. We’d need the investigation to be very low-key.”

Sounded like the Pentley case. “We’re concentrating on missing persons cases right now and don’t do divorces, as you know.” Three other times he’d turned down jobs from the firm regarding divorces.

“I’ve always wondered about your business. Employees, partners, other clients,” Brock said, his focus narrowing. “You’re such an enigma.” While he spoke to Ryker, the words were obviously meant for Zara.

“We like to stay under the radar,” Ryker said smoothly, planting his hand on Zara’s thigh, heat flowing through him in a primitive warning.

Brock’s eyebrow lifted. “It’s probably better that way, considering you don’t stay in town long,” he drawled, all charm.

Ryker leaned toward the lawyer and released Zara, keeping her partially behind him. “You know, Brock, I like you and always have. You work hard, you play hard, and you don’t pull any punches.”

Brock widened his stance, his lips twisting in almost a mocking smile. “So?”