Frailty of Things Read online

  “But he’s still focusing on his physical therapy?” Kit asked. While Marcus had survived the explosion, he had still needed a knee replacement and skin grafts as well as time to heal a broken hip and collarbone and a dislocated shoulder.

  Carly nodded in response to Kit’s question. “He is. He’s diligent about that, which I find somewhat surprising because he also complains about it every time I see him. But he goes,” she said again. “And then spends a few hours a day doing administrative work or helping at the lab.”

  “That’s good, I’m glad to hear it. When I’m back from Europe, I’ll head up and see if he can meet for lunch one of these days.”

  Carly laughed, “He’d like that. He’ll jump on any chance to get out of his routine. Besides, you don’t coddle him like Vivi does.”

  Kit smiled, “Yeah, I’m not really the coddling type.”

  Carly snorted. “So, your trip?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Kit said, sitting forward and sliding a spare key across Carly’s desk. “I had to move my trip up a day so I’m leaving tonight, and I wanted to let you know.” Carly lived in a small apartment over an appliance repair shop in town and often housesat for Kit when she traveled. “The thing is,” Kit continued, “my brother arrived last night with a friend of his, and I’m not sure if they will be staying and if so, for how long.”

  “So, do you think I should stop by?” Carly asked, adding the key to her keychain.

  Kit wagged her head. “I’ll see if I can get any more information from him this afternoon, and I’ll text you if I hear anything. He says he came to talk to me about something—what that ‘something’ is, I don’t know. But whatever it is, if I’m not here, he won’t be able to talk to me about it, so I suspect he’ll take off too.”

  “I can stop by tonight and check in, if you want,” Carly offered.

  Kit wagged her head again. “If he leaves, it will probably be tomorrow, so why don’t you plan to come by tomorrow after you get off your shift. But if anything changes, I’ll let you know. Sound good?”

  Carly nodded and they both rose. “Are you looking forward to the trip?” Carly asked as Kit donned her jacket again.

  Kit let out a little laugh. “I am. I really am. It’s been about a year since I’ve seen Marco, and it’s always fun to get dressed up.”

  “I bet,” Carly said as they exited her office. “I put on a dress for the Fallen Policeman’s benefit last month, and though I wouldn’t want to wear one every day to work, I have to admit, it was fun.”

  “We should plan a girls’ weekend in New York when I get back,” Kit said. The suggestion had come on a whim, but the idea grew on her immediately. It would be fun to get dressed up, take in a good dinner, maybe a show, and then hit a club. With three best friends all with young kids or pregnant, it had been a while since she’d had a good girls’ night out.

  “We definitely should. I could use a little girl time,” Carly responded just as Vic’s door flew open. Both women jumped at the sudden noise, and much to Kit’s surprise, Lucas Rancuso, a good friend of Vivi’s from Boston, walked out.

  “Lucas?” Kit said, not bothering to hide her surprise.

  He stopped, shot a glance in her direction, then quickly looked away. At well over six feet tall—really, closer to six and a half—Lucas was an imposing man. But the somewhat furtive expression on his face made him appear almost boyish.

  “Kit, Carly,” he said, nodding to the women. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” they replied in unison as Vic came out of his office behind Lucas. The chief was a bit of an enigma to Kit—he was pleasant to her and she knew he’d been good to Carly, but he’d been a complete asshole to Ian, Vivi’s husband, during Ian’s short tenure with the department. And it didn’t look as though he’d been any nicer to Lucas.

  She suspected that maybe his volatile nature had turned away more than one interested party—personally and professionally. Professionally, the department had been understaffed by more than one officer for over a year. And personally, well, Vic Ballard was a good-looking guy—tall and slim, with brown hair that was graying slightly at his temples. He looked fit, and Kit had seen him out with women, having drinks at Anderson’s or The Tavern a time or two. But she knew he’d never married.

  “Kit,” Vic said, with a nod in her direction. “It’s good to see you.”

  She held back a frown at the tension in the room. “You too, Chief. I hope you’re doing well?”

  He nodded.

  “Good, well, I—well, I guess I’ll be heading out now,” Kit said. With a last look at Carly, who gave a small shrug, Kit headed toward the door.

  “I’ll join you,” Lucas said, striding after her, not bothering to say good-bye to either of the police officers.

  “You okay?” Kit asked when they hit the sidewalk outside.

  “Fine,” Lucas managed to say.

  “Are you up visiting Vivi and Jeffery?” she asked. Lucas had been life partners with Jeffery DeMarco, Vivi’s brother and her son’s namesake, before Jeffery had been killed in action a little over two years before. As close to Vivi as her real brother, Lucas now stood in for one, showering baby Jeffery with lots of love and way too many toys.

  “I am,” he answered as they reached her car. “I know you had breakfast with her this morning. She mentioned she was meeting you.”

  “They look great, don’t they?” Kit responded as she placed her hand on the car door handle.

  Her remark elicited a smile from Lucas. “Yeah, they do.”

  Meghan, the young woman who ran the ice cream store in town, pulled into the lot across the street and waved when she saw Kit. Kit waved back and smiled—it was the dead of winter, but Meghan had started to sell her ice cream to local stores, so lately she was in her shop making and packaging her product more days than not.

  “So, what were you doing in the police station? Is everything okay?” Kit asked, bringing her attention back to Lucas, even though she knew she probably didn’t have the right to pry.

  Lucas just gave a little shake of his head, then let out a long breath that fogged around him. “Everything is fine. Vic attended a seminar I taught a few weeks ago, and we disagreed on a process and procedure issue. I figured since I was in town, I’d come by and see if we could have a rational conversation about it.”

  Lucas was a homicide detective in Boston, and what he said seemed more than plausible, but something about the expression on his face when he’d come out of Vic’s office made Kit think the conversation had been more heated than one about processes would warrant. But still, it wasn’t really her business.

  “Well,” she said, opening her car door. “I hope you worked it out.”

  Lucas gave a short but harsh laugh. “Not hardly. But I hear you’re headed to Europe soon?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Well, have a safe trip and all that,” he said. He was too polite to leave until she’d gotten into her car. She had the feeling she should ask him something else, something more, but for the life of her, she didn’t know what. So rather than make him stand around in the cold, she nodded, thanked him, and got in her car.

  She flipped the heater all the way on, flexed her gloved fingers to ward off the cold, and girded herself to face her brother.

  CHAPTER 4

  THROUGH THE KITCHEN WINDOW, Garret watched Kit’s car make its way up her long drive. He was both curious and a bit concerned about what might happen next; as he heard her garage door open, he braced himself to watch the convoluted dynamics between the siblings.

  “Where have you been?” Caleb demanded as soon as Kit stepped into the entryway.

  Garret was now leaning against the counter with his back to the window, and Kit’s eyes came up to meet his—she seemed to be asking him if he’d told her brother what she’d texted him. Garret nodded and she went back to toeing off her boots and removing her winter gear.

  “Well?” Caleb stated.

  “As I’m sure Garret told you, I was ha
ving breakfast with my friends down in Riverside. By the way, Jesse says ‘hi’ and that she’d like to have you to tea if you’re going to stick around long enough.”

  Judging by the tone in Kit’s voice, Garret doubted that Jesse had issued such an invitation. He rather suspected Kit had thrown it out as a not-so-subtle way of pointing out her brother’s lack of social graces, such as letting people know when he was coming to visit or making the time to catch up with friends.

  Garret didn’t think the comment had the intended effect, but even so, Caleb did seem to rein in his frustration a bit. Garret watched as his partner ran a hand through his spiky blond hair, then rested both hands on the back of a stool at the kitchen island.

  “I was just surprised to see you out of the house so early,” Caleb said in lieu of an apology.

  Kit inclined her head and made her way to the stove to put the kettle on. “Jesse had to be at work by nine, so we met early. Vivi and Matty were there too,” she added. The temper had gone out of her voice, and though Garret knew the antagonism between the two wasn’t all together gone, they were both trying to get ahold of it. He frowned as he watched her put a tea bag in a mug and return to wait by the stove. Caleb had rarely talked about his sister, and Garret had always assumed it was to protect her from touching any part of the sometimes-ugly life they led. But watching the two of them together, it was clear that something else bubbled underneath the surface of their relationship.

  “So, what do you want to talk about?” Kit asked, turning toward them after she’d poured hot water into her cup.

  “Have a seat,” Caleb gestured.

  “I’d rather stand, thank you. I have a lot I have to do today,” she added.

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed, and he looked about to argue but then seemed to change his mind. “What do you know about Henry Michaels?” he asked abruptly.

  Kit stilled, then blinked. “The father or the son?” she asked, her voice barely audible in the quiet kitchen. Garret shifted his gaze to Caleb, who had gone so still he looked unmovable, like a statue. Garret’s eyes went back to Kit, who looked like a deer in headlights.

  “The father—either, really,” Caleb answered.

  And damned if Kit didn’t go pale. She swallowed and shook her head. “I haven’t seen either of them since about a month after our father’s funeral.”

  “You haven’t talked to either of them? Wasn’t the younger one close to your age? He never tried to get in touch with you?”

  If anything, Kit seemed to go a little green as she gave a rapid but small shake of her head. “No, I haven’t seen or spoken to either of them in years. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a change of plans, and I’m now leaving for Europe tonight. I need to get packing.” And she was gone.

  Garret stayed where he was, letting the scene sink into his mind and memory. After several minutes had passed, he turned to look at Caleb, who also hadn’t moved, other than to meet Garret’s gaze.

  “She changed her plans,” Caleb repeated.

  Garret shrugged. “I guess so.”

  To get away from them or for some other reason, was the question. Caleb looked to be pondering the same thing.

  “She knows something,” Caleb finally said, acknowledging what Garret knew he didn’t want to. But while it was obvious Caleb thought he knew what Kit’s reaction to the name Henry Michaels meant, to Garret—to someone not entangled in the sibling relationship—her reaction could have meant any number of things.

  “The name did have an impact,” was all Garret was willing to concede.

  Caleb drummed his fingers on the back of the chair, then after a moment, he looked up. “How do you feel about a trip to Europe?”

  The request didn’t come as a surprise. Garret inclined his head. “I’ll make the reservations.”

  CHAPTER 5

  GARRET DID NOT LIKE what he’d been seeing. Or the fact that his mind couldn’t seem to untangle the events of the past few hours. He could blame it on jet lag, but he had extensive traveling experience, and jet lag had never been an issue for him in the past. Still, he might invoke it if he couldn’t figure out just what the hell was going on and fast.

  “Fabio Ambrose?” Caleb repeated on the other end of the cell connection.

  “Yep,” Garret responded, keeping his eye on Kit, who was seated in a café across the street, apparently waiting for someone. It was close to four in the afternoon, and it was already getting dark in London. He and Caleb had made their way into London just over seven hours ago, about an hour before Kit’s flight from New York had landed at Heathrow. They’d managed to get the name of her hotel out of her before she’d left Windsor and were checked in and waiting for her before she’d even arrived. Of course, she didn’t know any of this. Not yet, anyway.

  “Why would she have met someone like Ambrose?” Caleb demanded.

  While Garret was keeping an eye on Kit, Caleb was going through her hotel room. Garret didn’t much care to think about that, or the fact that it felt like he was betraying her, but if for some reason Kit was mixed up with Henry Michaels, or people like him, it was up to Garret and Caleb to keep her safe.

  “I think there is a lot you might not know about your sister,” Garret managed to say as his attention was drawn to an older woman joining Kit.

  “Ambrose works for Vatican intelligence, how the hell would she know him?”

  Over the phone, Garret heard a door close and figured Caleb was done with his search.

  “Find anything?” he asked. Caleb answered in the negative, which was probably a good thing. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as it looked.

  “Well?” Caleb asked again. What little patience Caleb possessed was clearly running out.

  Garret shrugged even though he knew Caleb couldn’t see him do it. “I don’t know how she knows him. They talked about publishing, and it sounded like they had some newspaper people in common,” Garret said, reciting what he’d gathered from Kit’s meeting earlier that afternoon—a meeting he’d been able to eavesdrop on from a behind a newspaper a few tables away.

  “Publishing?” Caleb repeated.

  “Yeah, you do remember that your sister is a world-renowned writer, right? And she was featured in the Times last weekend for winning that big award?” Garret didn’t think Caleb gave his sister enough credit and tried to drive the point home with sarcasm. The only indication that Caleb had been listening was a grunt that came over the phone line.

  “And that’s all they talked about?” Caleb pressed.

  Garret nodded out of habit, then spoke. “Yes, she told him she had expected to see him in Rome. He said he’d had a change of plans and needed to be in London, so he was glad they could meet here instead. They had lunch together and talked about the news in Europe, then he asked if she would be willing to chat with a friend of his who is with one of the papers in Italy, so she gave him her card to pass along.” Garret summarized the ninety-minute lunch in a ten-second wrap-up.

  Caleb grunted again, and Garret was just about to hang up when something caught his eye. He watched as a man, somewhere in his mid-fifties, joined Kit and the other woman. The man stooped to place a kiss on the other woman’s cheek, then shook hands with Kit before sitting down.

  “Cantona?” Caleb demanded across the line, likely sensing the tension that had just shot through Garret’s body.

  Garret watched for a moment, not believing what he was seeing. “No fucking way,” he heard himself mutter.

  “Cantona,” Caleb warned.

  “You’re never going to guess who just sat down with your sister.”

  “I swear to god, I’m going to kill you if you don’t just tell me,” Caleb answered.

  “Jonathon Parker,” Garret mumbled as he focused on the table across the street. The three of them were chatting and laughing about something.

  “Tell me you don’t mean the Jonathon Parker? From MI6? The one being investigated for the leak and the deaths of all those assets?”

  Garret heard Caleb’s q
uestion, but his mind was too wrapped up in trying to figure out how to get closer so he could hear what they were saying.

  “Cantona? Where are you?”

  Garret rattled off his location as he jogged across the street to see if there was another way he could get into the café without being obvious. Without being seen.

  “Stay put, I’ll be right there.”

  And with that, Caleb hung up. Garret slid his phone into his pocket and surveyed his options. Unlike the restaurant where she’d met Ambrose for lunch, the café where she currently sat didn’t offer much in the way of anonymity. It was too open, too small, and there was nowhere that would get him close enough to Kit to hear her conversation but keep him hidden enough so that she wouldn’t see him. He cursed the fact that he was tailing someone who would recognize him, someone who knew him well enough to recognize even his frame or way of moving. Hiding from people he didn’t know was a hell of a lot easier than hiding from someone who knew him intimately.

  Not happy with his options, he jogged back across the street and stepped into a shadowy doorway.

  Knowing Caleb was on his way, Garret pulled his collar tighter around his neck, leaned against the cold wall, and watched. Twenty minutes later, his partner pulled to a stop in front of him, driving yet another black Range Rover. Garret was never sure where the cars came from, but he knew that if given a choice, Caleb would always pick the same style.

  Climbing into the vehicle without a word, Garret kept an eye on traffic as Caleb circled around until he found an alley they could park in that would give them a view of the threesome. Over the years, Garret had developed a slight ability to read lips—he wasn’t great, but he could make out most things. And in the shadow of the car, Garret pulled out his binoculars to see if he could pick up anything they were saying.

  “Well?” Caleb asked. His own binoculars were trained on the window where Kit and her two guests were visible.

  “More publishing. Actually, I think Kit is asking the woman about some financial scandal that she—oh wait.” Garret stopped talking and focused. After a few minutes passed, he thought he had a little better understanding of the specific situation happening on the other side of the street, even if he felt like he was looking at the trees rather than the forest.