Paradise Falls (Paradise Falls #1-5)(13)

Jennifer piled a stack of pillows behind her and rested her tablet on her folded legs. She opened the web browser app to find a cheap refurbished laptop to replace the one Elliot destroyed. She could probably afford a new one, if she wanted. She sighed. She could definitely afford a new one.

You don’t need a new computer. A used one will work just fine.

Habit opened the bridge memorial web site instead. A picture of the monument built by the old bridge footing filled the screen with its list of names. Dread churned through her as she scanned the list for the thousandth time.

Her last name stood out among the others when she reached the K section. Franklin Katzenberg.

Three other names hovered a few lines above: Eric, Catherine, and Candice Kane.

Jennifer gasped and her hand clapped over her mouth. Jacob’s sister was named Candy Kane. She looked at the date of birth and did a quick mental calculation. She was twelve when she died.

“Oh God,” she breathed.





5.





The wipers flicked back and forth, throwing sheets of rain off the windshield. The rain tapered to a drizzle when he pulled away from Jennifer’s house, but picked back up again as he drove. Jacob’s twisted hand choked the steering wheel, sending shooters of pain through his forearm as if the boot heel still ground on it.

He passed the memorial at the footing of the old bridge, and stared straight ahead until the Aston Martin took the turn onto Hill Road with authority. He worked the shifter and focused on keeping the car on the road until he reached the top of the hill.

Jacob’s assistant waited inside the converted carriage house that served as a garage. Faisal opened the car door, and as Jacob stepped out, his assistant looked inside and sighed at the wet marks on the seats and floor.

“I’ll have that water taken care of, sir.”

“Whatever,” he said. Worrying about the car left a sour taste in his mouth. “How’s the work going?”

“We’re at ninety percent.”

“I need completion by the weekend.”

Why the rush? You’re not having guests. You can’t seriously be considering taking her up on her offer.

Entertaining the idea of taking her out was something he didn’t have time for. He’d have to let Jennifer down gently. Getting close to anyone would paint a target on their back.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Jacob scanned the perimeter. Every rock and tree could hide an enemy.

The workmen set up the main floor and bedrooms, the last unfinished parts of the house. A pair of carpenters worked on the built-in shelving for his library while another team dragged the huge refrigerator into the kitchen. Booted feet stomped upstairs as workmen rolled out carpeting, wrestled heavy antiques into place, and slapped fresh paint on the walls.

Lacking doors, the cabinetry frames in the bare bones kitchen resembled a wooden honeycomb. The steel door in the corner would appear as a common pantry when all the cabinets and appliances were in place. Now the quarter inch thick door with its four deadbolts and steel reinforcements stuck out like a sore thumb.

Faisal jogged down the newly built stairs, and Jacob followed after locking the door from the inside. The basement was half as big as the house. A desk and computers were just past the bottom of the stairs. Next to that were the filing cabinets that housed paper records, photocopies of microfilm, and anything else too precious to trust to electronic storage. He kept a cot at the far end. The bedroom upstairs was for show.

A vault in the corner served as his gun safe. Weighing six tons and almost ten feet wide by eight feet tall, a crane had to bear it into the house. Exercise equipment lined the opposite wall: mats, two heavy bags, speed bags, squat racks, the works.

Jacob pulled off his polo shirt and tossed it out of the way before holding out his hands. Faisal applied the wraps, and then Jacob pounded the heavy bag with his fists. Slight and barely more than a boy, Faisal braced himself against the swinging bag.

“You seem angry, sir,” Faisal said.

“I am angry.”

“Why?”

“She’s still here.”

Faisal leaned around the bag. “Why would that make you angry?”

“I thought she’d be remarried by now,” he said. Faisal’s loafers skid on the mat from the force of his punch. “I can’t believe she’s still in this awful place. She’s not supposed to be here.”

“Sir, if I may,” Faisal said. “Is it not for the better? You spoke of her before.”

“You may not,” Jacob said, and sighed. “Katzenberg was trying to force her into his car.”

“Which one, sir?”

“The son. Elliot.”

“Alone?”

“No. He had the bigger Carlyle with him. Grayson.” Jacob jabbed at the bag. “I could’ve taken them.”

“I know,” Faisal said.

“I wanted to kill him. He hurt her.”

“You have a plan for that.”

Panting, Jacob stepped back from the bag. Fire spread in his chest as walked to the squat racks. He changed into an old pair of sweats, and Faisal helped him load the bar. The boy struggled to move the big forty-five pound plates, but Jacob didn’t interfere until he attached enough weight required for a warm up set. One set down, and Faisal immediately loaded more weight. It took a few more to build up enough pressure to squeeze all the unwanted thoughts out.