Deadly Memories (Hardy Brothers Security Book 18) (3 page)

“
T
hanks for doing
this with me,” Grady said the next morning, watching as James worked on the lock to Sophie’s storage locker. The facility was in Dearborn – almost an hour away from the security office – but James was happy to help when his brother called.

“I take it you didn’t propose,” James said, lifting his eyes to his brother as he worked. He held back on questions as long as he could, but Grady didn’t seem overly happy, which suggested fear ruined potential euphoria for the middle Hardy brother … again.

“I didn’t propose,” Grady confirmed. “Sophie made an offhand comment about me cooking dinner because I was trying to get her to forgive me for something – and then suggested I was going to tell her I fell in love with someone else – and the night was officially ruined after that.”

James rolled his eyes as he maneuvered the lock pick. “Are you sure she wasn’t joking?”

“Of course she was joking,” Grady said. “It still threw me off my game.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“No.”

James was used to Grady’s petulance so he ignored his brother’s morose attitude. “I think you were looking for a reason to throw yourself off your game,” he said. “It’s okay, Grady. It’s normal to be frightened when you’re facing a huge life event like this. There’s no reason to get worked up about it. It will happen when it’s supposed to happen.”

“Sometimes you sound like a fortune cookie,” Grady said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You just did,” James said, crowing when the lock clicked and opened. “And you said I couldn’t do it.”

“I never believed you couldn’t open it,” Grady countered. “I merely suggested I could do it faster.”

“Whatever,” James muttered, shaking his head. “We both know I’m the better locksmith.”

“And we both know I’m better looking,” Grady shot back.

“In your dreams,” James said, pushing open the door and sucking in a breath when he saw the mountain of boxes stacked inside the storage unit. “Holy crap.”

“Holy crap is right,” Grady said, stepping inside. “I thought it would be a few things and I could transport something home to surprise Sophie with tonight. I’m going to have to rent a truck – and movers – if I want to do something like that.”

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way because I’m not keen on getting into a fight, but why isn’t Sophie here to check out her storage locker?” James asked. “This is her stuff. Forget the fact that we’re breaking the law by opening this thing, but it’s also kind of an invasion of privacy.”

“Sophie and I live together,” Grady pointed out. “We have no secrets. She’ll be fine with it.”

James arched a challenging eyebrow. “You have no secrets?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You bought an engagement ring a month ago and you hide it in shoes to make sure Sophie doesn’t accidentally stumble across it,” James pointed out. “That seems like a secret to me.”

“You keep things from Mandy all of the time.”

“I never said I don’t keep secrets,” James countered. “Mandy and I both have secrets. That’s what keeps the romance fresh. You’re the one claiming no secrets.”

“Oh, really, wise one?” Grady drawled. “What secret are you keeping from your beloved wife now? You two are tragically co-dependent, so I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“Right now I’m planning a trip to London in two weeks,” James replied, not missing a beat. “I’ve already gone behind her back and secured time off for her – which is going to royally tick her off – and I’ve booked the hotel and planned a trip to Stonehenge and the wax museum.”

Grady stilled, flabbergasted. “Are you messing with me?”

James shook his head. “We need some time alone,” he said. “I love you guys dearly, but ever since Mandy killed Lance Pritchard, things have been … different.”

“I thought she was seeing someone to work through that stuff?” Grady asked, his expression softening. He knew how much his brother worried over Mandy’s emotional well-being since she stabbed Pritchard in an effort to save Emma and Avery. “She’s seemed so much better over the past two weeks.”

“She
is
better,” James said. “She’s also still sad occasionally when she thinks no one is looking. I’m not trying to force her to forget what she’s upset about. I am trying to give her a new memory to focus on, though. She’s always talked about Stonehenge. I thought it was the perfect time to take her there.”

Grady smiled. Before Mandy, he was convinced James would never settle down and be truly happy. James surprised everyone with the strength of his love and devotion. Even when Mandy and James had problems, he never worried their marriage wouldn’t survive. “I think she’s going to love that.”

“I do, too,” James said. “Don’t tell anyone. I want it to be a surprise.”

“She’s definitely going to be surprised,” Grady said. “You two are turning into quite the globetrotting couple. First London and then a trip to New Zealand to look at hobbit holes in the late fall. Do I have to worry about you guys taking off and never returning?”

James shook his head. “This is home and it’s where we’re happiest,” he said. “We still want to travel and Mandy is desperate to see things for her painting projects. She’s only going to be at the courthouse for a few more months, and despite how well she thinks she’s hiding that fact, the judge knows she’s leaving. He told me so on the phone.”

“Mandy is going to be pissed when she finds out you went behind her back to get time off for her,” Grady said. “Are you ready for that fight?”

“I am,” James confirmed. “I got a new shark attack video for the projector in the guesthouse. I’m going to take her out there and turn it on and when she’s distracted by her hormones, then I’m going to tell her.”

Grady barked out a hoarse laugh. “You’re pretty devious, man.”

“I know I am,” James said, turning his attention back to the boxes. “You’re right about not being able to take all of this stuff with us today, though. Let’s look at a few boxes and if we see anything with photographs or something that looks important we’ll grab it.

“Sophie can have a few boxes tonight for your surprise,” he continued. “Then you can bring her out here to go through the rest of it when you have time.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“
W
ELL
,
this looks like a righteous mess, doesn’t it?”

Sophie shook her head as she studied the lake at Stony Creek Metropark in northern Macomb County. On a normal day the lush landscape would probably appear serene. The car resting on its side in the shallow water near the shore after running through the guardrail of the overhead bridge marred that beauty today.

“It does,” said Rufus Watkins, The Daily Tribune’s photographer. Sophie and Rufus went out on stories together quite often, so they were used to the drill. “Do we know anything about the kids inside?”

“They’re being very hush-hush,” Sophie replied. “That makes me think they’re hiding something.”

“You’re a reporter,” Rufus said. “You always think people are hiding something.”

“That’s because everyone has a secret, Rufus,” Sophie said, patting his arm. “Something tells me this is going to be a big one.”

“For once, I think you’re right,” Rufus said, shifting his attention to the curious onlookers on the other side of the bridge. “This happened after dark last night and the sheriff’s department tried to close down the entire park. I heard it on the scanner. They didn’t have the jurisdiction, though, so instead they roped off this part of the lake.”

“They can probably get away with it because it’s too cold to swim,” Sophie replied. “It’s early spring. It’s too warm for ice fishing and too cold for swimming. They lucked out there.”

“They’re not talking from what I understand,” Rufus supplied. “They sent out a press release about the accident, but they didn’t identify the occupants. There has to be a reason for that.”

“I agree,” Sophie said, her expression thoughtful as she tapped her lower lip. “Do me a favor and see if you can zoom in on the license plate of the car. I know it’s underwater, but we might be able to make it out.”

Rufus nodded. “Anything else?”

“Just listen to the people talking,” Sophie instructed. “If you think anyone has legitimate information, send them in my direction.”

“What are you going to do?”

Sophie pointed toward a spot on the left side of the lake where at least eight sheriff’s deputies had their heads bent together as they discussed something. Not only were deputies present, though, but so was Macomb County’s top elected law enforcement figure, Sheriff Aaron Morgan. “I might as well start right at the top on this one.”

Rufus’ smile was rueful. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.”

Sophie purposely took her time as she rounded the lake, being careful not to cross the yellow police tape and never moving her gaze from the group of sheriff’s deputies. They were deep in conversation, everyone’s face reflecting grave worry. Whatever happened at Stony Creek the previous evening, it wasn’t good.

Sheriff Morgan raised his head as Sophie approached, his chest heaving when he realized who she was. He looked resigned.

“This is a private matter, ma’am,” one of the deputies said, stepping in Sophie’s path and cutting her off. “You need to turn around and head back to the park area.”

Sophie tilted her head to the side as she considered how to respond. She wasn’t fond of law enforcement. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. Her final foster home – the one that stuck – just happened to include a familiar figure in Southeastern Michigan’s mob scene. Peter Marconi was a fantastic father figure. He had no love for police, though, and he passed his disdain on to Sophie.

“I stayed away from the police tape,” Sophie said, choosing her words carefully. “I need to get a statement from Sheriff Morgan.”

“He’s not giving statements today.”

Sophie licked her lips. Peter always told her to be nice to law enforcement representatives whenever possible because causing problems for them always resulted in trouble, but this particular deputy rankled her. “So you’re not going to discuss a fatal accident on county property? That should go over well with our readers.”

It was a gamble, but Sophie couldn’t help but internally smirk when the sheriff took a step in her direction and she realized it would pay off.

“I’ve got this, Lennox,” Morgan said as he patted his deputy’s back and pointed toward the bridge. “Why don’t you meet with the accident re-creation team and be in charge of that effort.”

Deputy Lennox didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked irritated. “Are you sure, sir? I can remove this … woman … without incident.”

“I’ll handle Ms. Lane,” Morgan said, forcing a tight smile. “We go way back. It will be fine.”

That was an understatement, Sophie mused. More than a year and a half before Aaron Morgan’s aide got caught skimming from the county coffers. In an effort to keep it quiet, he kidnapped Sophie and was intent on killing her until Grady rode to the rescue. Morgan’s relationship with Sophie had been civil – but stilted – ever since.

“Ms. Lane,” Morgan said, locking gazes with the comely brunette. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” Sophie replied, matching Morgan’s cold tone. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Morgan admitted. “We’re not going to be releasing information today. This is a … hard … issue to deal with. We’ll have a press conference tomorrow.”

That didn’t sound like normal sheriff’s department procedure. Sophie decided to play a hunch and repeat some of the idle gossip she heard from onlookers earlier as she approached the scene.

“That’s certainly your prerogative,” Sophie said. “You do realize we have to do a story no matter what, right?”

“I do,” Morgan confirmed, nodding. “I’m afraid there weren’t any witnesses who saw the actual event, though, so you’re probably going to have trouble piecing things together. We only have helpful onlookers who rushed to the car after the fact.” Morgan looked almost gleeful when he said the words.

“Well, I can go with the rumors the woman at the foot of the bridge told me as long as I attribute them,” Sophie said. She was bluffing. She would never run with unsubstantiated rumors. Morgan didn’t know that, though, and she wanted to push him into telling the truth. “My photographer got photos of the license plate, too, so we can run that and track down the driver.”

Morgan’s face drained of color when he realized what Sophie insinuated. “You can’t do that.”

“I can do that,” Sophie argued. “In fact, I’m perfectly within my rights to do that. I’m expected to do that. I can run the license plate the moment I get back to the office.”

“Ms. Lane, this is a … delicate … situation,” Morgan challenged. “There were fatalities.”

“I figured that out myself,” Sophie said. “The front window has a big hole through it … one that looks as if a body was catapulted out because someone wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

“Witnesses near the end of the road report that only one ambulance left the scene in any sort of hurry last evening, too,” she continued. “Three ambulances left without turning their lights on. If four emergency vehicles were called, that means you had four victims. My guess is only one survived, although I have no idea if that’s still the case.”

“You can’t do this, Sophie,” Morgan said, adjusting his tone so it was pleading instead of smug. “This story is going to be huge.”

“And I’m going to get it,” Sophie said, refusing to back down. “The question is: Are you going to try and stand in my way? If you are, that’s going to be part of the story, too. We all know that residents aren’t going to be happy if they think you’re hiding information … again.”

“I was not hiding information before,” Morgan said, wagging a finger in Sophie’s face for emphasis. “I had no idea what was going on.”

“And yet you were the sheriff and should’ve known.” Sophie was eerily calm. She knew that threw people off their game. Peter taught her how to read people at a young age and then he taught her how to interact with certain personality types to get what she wanted. That’s what she did now. “I’m not sure your reputation can take another hit.”