The Killing Game(65)

“Well, great. I still don’t know who you are,” Scott said. “But you sure act like you have some authority around here.”

“Luke’s a private investigator,” Andi said as the elevator began to hum, called by someone on another floor.

Scott blinked in surprise. “You work for the company?”

“What did you want to talk about?” Andi asked, her voice sounding as if it were coming from a long way away. She was trying to act normally, but she could hardly think straight. Her mind was still on the note and what it meant. She wanted to throw herself into Luke’s arms and never let go.

“Mimi. Her condition. She can’t have this baby and all of you know it.”

“Don’t even mention abortion,” Andi said coldly.

“It would be a lot less expensive that taking care of Greg’s kid.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Carter stepped out and stopped short in surprise. “Quade,” he greeted Scott tautly.

“Well, let’s hope you’re in the mood to save money,” Scott said.

“No abortion.” Andi was shaking, and she felt Luke’s arm steal around her, his palm at the small of her back. She had no idea what Carter would say.

“Are we talking abortion?” he demanded.

“Not according to your sister-in-law,” Scott stated, flushing.

“Well, it’s not going to happen.” Carter was firm. “Where’s Mimi? You said you’d bring her.”

“She didn’t want to come. You people scare her.”

“Maybe you didn’t bring her because she’s not pregnant.”

“Ask her.” He pointed to Andi. “She went and intimidated her and now all Mimi can do is cry!”

“That’s not true,” Andi sputtered.

Carter said, “All you want is money. Well, you came to the wrong place. When Mimi delivers, get that DNA test you were screaming about last time you were here. If it’s Greg’s, we’ll deal with it then.”

Scott opened his mouth and closed it again. “You don’t know what I want,” he growled, and then he headed back to the elevator, slamming the button with his palm. It had been called away and so he had to stand in fury, staring at the door, waiting.

Luke said calmly, “The Exit sign for the stairs is to your left and down the hall.”

Scott whipped around and stared at Luke, then at Carter. “You can’t intimidate me anymore.”

The elevator opened once more and Emma stood inside, next to Ben. Her hair was disheveled and her face pale. She said, “Oh God, Quade. Is this why you wanted me here?”

“You were supposed to be at the lodge,” Carter snapped. To Scott, he said, “You’re the one trying to intimidate my family.”

He angrily brushed past Emma and Ben as they exited the elevator car and stabbed the button several times. “I’ll bring Mimi next time,” he declared.

The doors closed on him, but Carter didn’t wait. He headed toward his office without another word.

“Carter?” Emma asked, following after him, confused.

Ben grabbed her arm and dragged her after him, saying, “I picked her up at home. Figured she needed to be here.”

Andi looked at Emma’s unfocused stare and turned to Luke. “I’m done here.”

He said, “Where’s the note?”

“On my desk.”

He walked over and picked it up carefully by the edges and slipped it into his pocket. Then he came back to Andi and put his hand to the small of her back again. “I’m following you home and making sure you’re safe and secure.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

*

Alvin Bromward had more cats than September remembered. She counted five in sight and suspected there might be a whole lot more. From the smell of the apartment, she guessed there was a litter box somewhere nearby that needed cleaning.

Gretchen stood beside her, her face screwed up in distaste. Her partner could easily hide her feelings behind a professional fa?ade when she chose to, but this was not the occasion.

“Sit down.” Alvin waved at them with a liver-spotted hand. He was seated in a wheelchair with a blanket over his legs. His hair was gray and greased to his head, patches of pink scalp showing through the wisps.

They’d already been through this routine. Like last time, there wasn’t a seat available that wasn’t rife with cat fur. “Thank you,” September said, “but we prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, push Tigger out of the way,” he said, making shooing motions to the huge orange tabby that was lounging on its back on the couch, softly snoring. The little beast didn’t care one iota that strangers were in the house.

Gretchen suddenly sneezed and shot September a baleful look.

September had already explained that they’d met with Kitsy Hasseldorn, and now she asked for the second time, “Do you remember Tommy Burkey?”

“Sure,” he said. “A brat. Treated my cats bad, I can tell you. Caught him throwing rocks at ’em and threw one back at him. Hit him in the arm. He howled like a banshee and ran home to his mommy.”

“You threw a rock at a child?” Gretchen asked.

He swatted the air in her direction. “He weren’t no child. He was hangin’ with those smokers. One of ’em threw a rock through my window, just to let me know they were watchin’. Lookin’ out for Tommy, who wasn’t too bright, you know.”