Dark Legacy Page 11

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” She smiled. “It’s just a lot of stuff I haven’t thought about in a long time. I’d rather not be in that registry or contact who might be the father. So, if there are other ways to find out where she is, I’d like to do that. I’m not worried about the cost at the moment.”

  “It’s going to take time.”

  “I’ve waited nearly nineteen years. I can wait a little while longer.”

  “I’ll do my best. Now, I have one other thing I need to discuss with you. Do you remember that car that has been parked at the top of the hill most mornings?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, it’s registered to Ned Brendel.”

  “No way,” she said. It was an interesting turn of events, and she wasn’t sure if she should be scared shitless or flattered that dear old Uncle Ned gave a crap. “I take it you know he’s my uncle.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Why is he spying on you?”

  She untucked her feet and slipped them back into her shoes. “I honestly have no idea,” she said. “I haven’t spoken to him since my father died.”

  Jackson scribbled on a notepad. She tried to peer over his strong biceps, but she couldn’t make out the words. “Why not?”

  She didn’t need him digging more into her personal life. Looking for her daughter was crazy enough. Bringing the Brendel brand of crazy would be beyond insane.

  “I’m not close with anyone on my father’s side of the family.”

  Jackson glanced over the rims of his glasses. “Can you elaborate?”

  “Like I said, my dad wasn’t a nice guy, and his family knew it. My uncle Ned has tried to reach out a few times this last year, but I haven’t responded.”

  “That really doesn’t explain the snooping.”

  No, it didn’t, and she’d be lying if it didn’t cause some concern. But she wasn’t about to discuss it with Jackson. That part of her life didn’t need to creep into her present.

  Not ever.

  “Mind if I give him a call? Ask him a few questions?”

  “I kind of mind.” She raised her hand, chewing on her fingernail. “My uncle has a gambling problem—among other things. I’m sure he’s just looking for a handout.”

  “That makes me worry he’d break into your home if he thinks you have something of value.”

  “Can you call him without mentioning me?”

  “I can absolutely do that.” Jackson took his reading glasses off and set them on the stack of papers he’d tossed on the table. “I think that concludes the business portion of the evening.” He gripped the armrests and hoisted himself closer.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

  “I have this rule. Never mix business with pleasure.” He continued captivating her with his wicked smile and playful eyes. It felt as though he were holding her in his arms, even though he was a few feet away.

  “It’s a good rule.” She tore her gaze away. No matter how attractive she found him, she needed to take a step back. Getting involved with him would only cause problems for both of them. “I have the same one.”

  He stood and reached out his hand. She hesitated for a brief moment, and before she knew it, he had his hands on her hips and his lips on her cheek. “I really like you,” he whispered.

  She took a step back and swallowed. “I like you, too, but I don’t think this is a good idea, especially with the blending of two cases.”

  “I don’t like the voice of reason.” He cocked his head and frowned.

  “You’re a nice man, and I do enjoy your company, but—”

  He hushed her by pressing his soft lips to her mouth.

  She leaned in to his strong frame and moaned. She couldn’t believe she caved so quickly to his tender touch. She’d never met a man who had such a physical and emotional effect on her, and she wasn’t used to it. She didn’t know how to control her emotions.

  She pressed her hand against his chest. “You’re really good at that.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” He winked.

  “It’s getting late, and I have early appointments.”

  He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Can I cook you dinner tomorrow after work?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good night, Shannon.”

  “Good night.” She turned on a dime and scurried across the yard. She didn’t glance over her shoulder. After closing the door and locking it, she leaned against the wooden frame, fiddling with her necklace.

  Her cell buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out and smiled at Jackson’s smiley face text.

  Her life was really finally coming together.

  Chapter Six

  Jackson’s phone rang out, jostling him from a deep sleep. He stretched, rolling to his side.

  At two in the morning, it had to be Katie, even though he wished it was Shannon asking him to sneak over for the night.

  He snagged the cell and tapped the screen. “This’d better be good. I was right in the middle of an amazing dream.”

  “Belinda Montgomery is dead,” Katie’s voice boomed across the room, bouncing off the walls. “They found her body on Long Island.”

  He bolted to an upright position. “No fucking way.”

  “Yep. I’m on my way to get you by boat.”

  “You don’t own a boat.” He shoved the covers to the side and searched for his jeans.

  “I borrowed Jacob’s. Be at the dock in fifteen.”

  “On it.” He hiked up his pants, found a sweatshirt, and made his way down toward the dock, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder. Shannon’s cottage was dark. He thought about texting her, but he’d wait until he knew more.

  Breaking other people’s rules was something Jackson rarely thought twice about. Breaking his rules, well…he created them for a reason.

  But Shannon Brendel and her sexy legs that went on forever had been torturing him in his dreams for months. Their early-morning conversations hadn’t been anything deep. More like casual chatter one would expect between neighbors. But they affected him to his core, making him willing to toss caution to the wind.

  He stood on the dock in front of his cottage, staring at a white light moving across the lake.

  The boat engine got louder. He glanced over his shoulder. Hopefully, he’d be back before Shannon left for work in the morning.

  Katie pulled up to the dock in a small Boston Whaler. Jackson stepped aboard and then pushed it from the dock.

  “Wow. That sailboat is something else,” Katie said as she pushed the throttle forward. “I still think you should send a picture of it to your ex-wife and tell her you bought it with the money from the divorce settlement.”

  “I’d rather not have any contact with her, thank you,” Jackson said. His marriage ranked right up there as the biggest mistake of his life, and one he didn’t like discussing.

  With anyone.

  It was over, and she was out of his life.

  “You could be sipping tropical drinks in the Bahamas had you gone after her.”

  “Life isn’t always about money. Besides, if you’d met her, you’d be wondering why the hell I married her in the first place.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What do you know about this case?”

  “A young couple found Belinda’s body under a picnic table at the campsite next to them. I guess they were a little intoxicated and went to the wrong site. Took Lake George patrol fifteen minutes to get there.”

  “So, State is taking point?”

  “Don’t know. Westerfield is on-site now, and I’m sure he wants jurisdiction, but it doesn’t affect us one way or the other.”

  Jackson stood next to the center console on Katie’s side of the boat. Katie pulled back on the throttle as they approached the five-mile-an-hour buoys between Long Island and Assembly Point. “They aren’t going to let us anywhere near the scene.”

  “Probably not,” she agreed. “But just driving by, we
’ll be able to tell if they are considering it a suicide, overdose, or murder.”

  “You already think it’s murder, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what to think. This case gets weirder and weirder by the second. But once we get confirmation that she’s dead, our case is technically over.”

  Katie navigated the boat through the buoys and then pulled in tight to the shoreline of the island. Jackson could see the lights about twenty campsites up ahead. There appeared to be two LG patrol boats, a sheriff’s department boat, and a fire rescue boat. A helicopter buzzed overhead with a spotlight—they were looking for something...or someone.

  “Call Westerfield,” Katie said. “He’s knows we’re out here.”

  Jackson pulled up his contact information.

  “Westerfield here.”

  “What’s going on?” Jackson asked.

  “Hang on,” Westerfield said. A brief moment passed. “Treating it as a homicide. There are a ton of bruises on the girl’s body, and we don’t think this is where she died.”

  “What about the new boyfriend we were told she was with?”

  “No sign of him, but we have people looking.”

  “What’s going to happen if we drive close?” Jackson asked.

  “As long as you stay a good fifty feet from the island, we won’t do anything. I’ll call you when I wrap up here.”

  Jackson tapped Katie on the shoulder and made one gesture toward the patrol boats and then indicated for them to go out a little ways. “All right,” Jackson said. “Talk to you soon.”

  “So?” Katie asked.

  “Increase speed to about ten miles per hour and drive out about fifty feet from shore. I get the feeling Westerfield is keeping something from us. Not sure what, but whatever it is, I bet we’ll see it if we look hard enough.”

  Katie punched the throttle. Even with all the lights, the campsite was hard to see through the lush trees and the people milling about.

  Jackson shivered. Who went camping in April when the night dipped well into the forties? “Slow down,” he said as he maneuvered around to the other side of the boat. A flag floating in the water over an innertube caught his attention. “There are divers in the water.” He pointed. “And that’s a New York State Trooper SCUBA team boat.”

  “I see it. Another body, maybe?”

  “Could be. I can’t imagine a woman coming out here in April alone. Besides, we still have the new boyfriend that no one can find.”

  “Could be a double homicide. Or maybe a murder-suicide case. Either way, if that’s our girl, our job is done,” Katie repeated.

  “We might as well go home and wait for confirmation.” Jackson sat down next to Katie. He had no idea how he was going to tell Shannon. The even bigger question was whether he should wake her up tonight. He glanced at his watch—three in the morning.

  He should wait. But for how long? If the cops released any information, it would hit the news pretty quickly, and Shannon was the kind of woman who paid attention to the news.

  Katie kept the boat at a low speed as they maneuvered around Long Island and headed back toward Jackson’s place.

  “Before I forget, I got a call from Bengal. He’s got a couple of new cases for us.”

  “Funny. I met the son’s girlfriend earlier. She happens to be Shannon’s half-sister.”

  “Small world,” Katie said. “Bengal’s kid doesn’t want anything to do with working for his father.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He’s been spending a lot of time talking with Jacob about being an ADA.”

  “I’d rather do work for the DA’s office, but we need the money.” One thing he’d learned over the last year was that he couldn’t always pick and choose his cases. He no longer had a rich wife.

  Thank God. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the money. That said, living with her had turned out to be pure hell. And that was before she’d broken his heart by cheating on him while he was in the hospital after nearly dying from a gunshot wound.

  “Thank Jacob for the use of the boat,” he said as he jumped onto the dock.

  “He doesn’t know I borrowed it.”

  Jackson should be shocked, but it was a typical Katie move. “Great. We just stole the assistant district attorney’s boat,” Jackson said and then pushed the bow. “See you in the morning.” The moment he turned, he noticed that Shannon’s lights were on. He started to head up the stone path to her cottage when the door flew open. Shannon raced toward the side of the house in jeans and a long sweater. Her hair looked as if she’d spent the day on a motorcycle going a hundred miles an hour without a helmet.

  “Shannon,” he yelled. “Wait.”

  She gasped, skidding to a halt. “Shit, Jackson. You scared me. I’m sorry. I’ve got to run. Some problems at work.”

  “I’m sorry about your patient,” he said as he jogged to where she stood.

  She tilted her head and wrinkled her nose with a puzzled look. “How did you know?”

  “Katie called, and we drove up to Long Island to check it out. It looks like they are treating this as a suspicious death.”

  Shannon’s eyes narrowed. “On Long Island? I’m sorry, but I don’t follow. I’ve got a crisis at Saratoga Hospital, not Long Island.”

  “Oh, shit.” Jackson scratched the back of his head. “I thought you knew I was talking about Belinda. They found her body at a campsite. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, God.” Shannon took in a long, deep breath as she braced herself against the side of the cottage. “Jesus. That’s terrible.” She breathed in and out slowly and methodically. “What happened?” she asked.

  Gently, he ran his hand up and down her arm. “We don’t really know. The police are investigating.”

  She stiffened her back. “I’m not going to wait for the police to come to me,” she said. “Do you know who I should contact?”

  “I don’t know if the sheriff’s office or the State Troopers are running point, but I can find out and let you know by mid-morning.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” She fiddled with the key remote and unlocked her car. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a crisis in Saratoga. Call my cell, okay?”

  “Sure thing.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re trembling.”

  “I have another patient in crisis. It’s a lot to handle right now.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Keep me in the loop about Belinda?”

  He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I can do that.”

  “I really have to get going.”

  “Do me a favor and text me when you get to the hospital.” He took a chance and stole a quick but passionate kiss before watching her race up the path and hop into her vehicle.

  When his divorce had become final, he’d sworn off women.

  After kissing Shannon, he decided to amend that statement and make it just rich women.

  Shannon pushed open the doors toward the holding tank and raced through the hallways, her heart pounding against her chest.

  “Hey, Kent,” she said at the main doors.

  Kent had been the one who called. He had sounded shaken but assured her that he was just fine. He gave her weak smile and nodded somberly.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “If you need to talk, I’m always just a phone call away.”

  “I may take you up on that.” Kent let out a long, slow breath, looking her directly in the eye. “By the time I got to the nurses’ station, Dr. Franklin was on the floor, and Gretchen started stabbing herself. I lunged toward her, but she plunged the scissors into her neck. Blood went everywhere. I tried to save her.”

  “I know.” Shannon squeezed his biceps. “Nothing more anyone could have done. Any news on Dr. Franklin?”

  “Last I heard, he was in surgery, but no one seems very optimistic. It’s a bloody mess in there.”

  “Thanks.” In all the years Shannon had been a therapist,
she’d only lost three patients to suicide or drug overdose.

  But tonight, she’d lost one to an apparent suicide, and the other…well, she hadn’t been given a cause of death yet on Belinda.

  The doors to the unit opened. Two policemen and two men in suits stood at the nurses’ station. At the far end of the unit, the hospital morgue placed Gretchen Carson’s lifeless body on a gurney. They covered her face with a white, blood-stained sheet.

  Erica, the nurse from earlier, talked with one of the men in suits. She had a cut on her face, just under her right eye, and her left arm sported a sling. She pointed to Shannon. The man turned and waved for Shannon to come over.

  “I’m detective Rizzoli,” he said. “I understand you are the deceased’s psychologist.”

  “Yes. The name is Dr. Shannon Brendel. I’ve been seeing Gretchen for about a year now.”

  “We were told you were here earlier this evening. What was Miss Carson’s demeanor?”

  “She was stable, for the most part. She’d just come off a binge that nearly killed her. Dr. Franklin prescribed some medications to help her come down and stabilize her mood. When I left her, she was still angry, but I didn’t consider her a threat to herself or others. Neither did Dr. Franklin.”

  “Erica, the nurse, mentioned that Miss Carson had been yelling at Dr. Franklin as she attacked him. Things like how he deserved to die.”

  “That doesn’t sound like my patient. I’ve never known her to be violent with others,” Shannon said. Gretchen had said numerous times that she’d like to see her mother dead, but not once had she ever done anything remotely violent to the person who had caused her incredible agony. So, going after Franklin seemed way out of character.

  “The nurse mentioned that Miss Carson also said she was coming after you. Would she have reason to be upset with you?”

  “Of course, she did. I’m her therapist. While I provide a safe, non-judgmental environment for my patients, I’m not their friend, and it’s my job to call them on their destructive behaviors.” Shannon stuffed her hands deep into her pockets. She hadn’t meant to sound defensive. The detective was just doing his job.