Family Pride (Blood of the Pride) (20 page)

“I paid Shaw to kill Molly Callendar. I killed him afterward to cover my tracks.”

Attersley put up a finger. “Do you want a lawyer? I’ve already given you your notice and you have the right to stay silent. You don’t have to say another word about this matter until we get to the station and you have legal representation.”

Bernadette nodded. “I understand completely and wish to continue my statement. Shaw called me and told me where he was staying. I stabbed him.”

“With what?” Attersley pressed on.

“A knife.” A wan smile appeared. “I threw it away. You’ll never find it.”

My head was spinning. There was no way for the prosecution to prove she did it and no way for her high-priced lawyer to prove she didn’t do it, thanks to these statements.

“Why didn’t you take the baby right there? Why did you leave Liam alone?” Attersley pressed onward.

Bernadette paused and I could almost see the internal wheels spinning to create a story. “I left the room to dispose of the knife. I was worried about carrying the baby and the diaper bag and the knife all together and I needed to get rid of it right away.” She smiled. “I took it outside and threw it into the sewer.”

She was weaving the perfect story and I couldn’t stop her.

“When I came back into the hotel I saw Brandon and Rebecca in the lobby. I couldn’t approach them and instead watched them go into Shaw’s room and find Liam. When I saw them leave with the baby I had no reason to stay there. So I went home and got my weapon.” She bowed her head. “I asked where my husband was and his assistant told me he was here, meeting Rebecca and Brandon. I came here in order to force them to give me the baby.” Her gaze flickered around the room, unfocused and wild. “I thought he’d be here. All they had to do was hand him over.” She rolled her attention back to the detective. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just wanted my baby.”

I bit down on my lower lip. The only way she’d know about Shaw being killed would be if she came to the hotel after we’d left—and now she was taking the blame because she was worried about Bran taking the hit for the murder.

She wanted to protect her son, save his reputation.

I was pretty sure she didn’t care about mine.

Attersley looked at me. He wasn’t buying this any more than I was but he was bound by the law to follow procedure and her confession would stand at least for the time being.

“Where did you meet Keith Shaw?”

Bernadette smiled. “I met him at Second Chance, Second Life—one of our charities. He is—was quite photogenic.” A wistful look came into her eyes. “I hated having to kill him. So hard to get good help these days.”

For a second I believed she’d actually killed Shaw. She had, at least in her mind.

Attersley shot me a warning look. Whether he believed her or not was irrelevant. She would be in for psychiatric assessment the minute she got to the station.

“Bernadette Hanover, I’m placing you under arrest for assault...” he droned on as he gestured for her to stand up, pulling handcuffs free from one pocket.

Michael Hanover didn’t look at his wife as the detective repeated his previous warning and went through the litany of offenses.

Attersley pointed at each of us in turn. “Mr. Hanover, I need you to go with me to the station. You,” he barked at Bran, “I’ll see at the hospital along with Rebecca. After you receive the medical all-clear you’ll be going back to the station for further questioning.” The unspoken question of arresting us before, after or during the hospital visit hung in the air.

His eyes lingered on Jess for a second. “I don’t believe we’ve properly been introduced. You are...”

“Jess Hammersmythe.” She shook his hand with the usual bone-crushing grip. I had to give it to Hank, he never flinched. “I’m a family friend of Reb’s.”

“Ah. Funny she never mentioned you before.” The wariness in his voice was tempered with exhaustion.

“Guess it never came up,” she replied.

The two of them ignored me, busy with their own private joust.

“And how did you get involved with this mess?” Attersley swept his hand outward, encompassing the living room filled with medics, cops and suspects.

“Reb asked me to take care of the little one here while she continued to search for Callendar’s killer. I called Ms. Farnsworth and dropped off the child early this morning.”

“How do you know Ms. Farnsworth?” Hank asked.

“Bingo.” Jess didn’t miss a beat. “Every Thursday night at the Roadhouse Bingo Hall over on Sherbourne Street.”

I tried not to smile.

“Bran called and asked me to come over and bring the baby. He didn’t know Liam was already safe with Social Services.”

Hank didn’t give ground easily. “And you didn’t call the police.”

Jess shrugged. “Why would I? I didn’t know all this craziness was going on.” She gestured at Bernadette. “When I got here she was on the floor, Reb was shot and I told Michael to call 9-1-1.”

Hank continued his not so gentle questioning. “You saw Liam yesterday, took him from these two.” He tilted his head in my general direction. “Where did you pick him up?”

“At Yonge and Dundas, right on the street corner,” she replied.

“They brought the baby out to you.”

“Yes, they did.” Jess smiled, hands tucked in her pockets. “I met them at the corner, took Liam and went home. I called Denise and she said to bring him over the next morning.” The underlying steel in her voice spoke volumes.

“Of course,” Attersley said with a defeated sigh. He wasn’t up to verbally jousting with Jess—I’d yet to see anyone who could.

Jess looked at me. “I’ll have a lawyer meet you at the station. Take your time sorting through the mess. Don’t say anything else until he meets with you. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You haven’t needed a lawyer before, Reb,” Attersley said.

“Never got into this much trouble before.” I gave a respectful nod to Jess. “I appreciate it.”

“We take care of our own. Call me if you need anything else.” Jess locked eyes with me. “Anything,” she repeated.

I got to my feet and watched Bran walk out the door, Michael behind him with two policemen escorting Bernadette, and Hank waiting to accompany me. “How about a time machine?”

Chapter Fourteen

It was well past midnight when I stumbled up the short walk to my front door. It was unlocked and I wasn’t worried in the least. Anyone who thought they’d be able to rob a house with Jess inside deserved whatever he or she got.

I shut the door behind me, feeling the tension begin to ease out of my body. I was home and I was safe—for the time being at least.

My arm ached. The prescription painkillers had taken the edge off but it hurt like hell, even resting in the simple sling. I wouldn’t be doing much for the next few weeks while it healed.

The doctor at the hospital had mumbled something about a nasty scar while he put in the handful of stitches needed. He’d suggested a plastic surgeon, clucking his tongue at having such an ugly line on my fair skin.

I’d resisted the urge to show off the claw marks on my back.

The widescreen television Bran had recently bought blared some science-fiction movie, the spaceships chasing each other with bad special effects.

Jess looked up from petting Jazz, the two of them sprawled the length of the sofa. Jazz let out an annoyed trill and rolled off to land on the floor with a thump.

I wagged a finger at the fat white cat. “Tell me you at least played hard to get for a few seconds.”

Jazz lifted her nose into the air and strutted off toward the stairs.

Jess turned the television off and stood up. “Rolled over for a few cat treats and told me where the silver was.” She looked me over, her lips twisting into a sad smile. “I’ll start some tea. You look like you need some.” Jess headed for the kitchen, humming a hunting song I’d forgotten the words to.

I felt like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole instead of coming home.

“Don’t even think about pressing your luck on that wound. Remember Johnny Ladder?”

I didn’t but wasn’t ready to get into a conversation about Felis I’d met and forgotten years ago.

She continued, ignoring my nonresponse. “He got himself shot by a hunting party who mistook him for a deer.”

I sat down on the still-warm cushions. “A deer?”

“Damned fool was running out at the farm and went off our territory. He limped back to Ruth with the same sort of gunshot wound.” I heard the sound of water running. “He figured he’d get back to work at the warehouse before the doctor cleared him. Idiot ended up with an infection and laid up even longer.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I grimaced as I spotted bloodstains on the hardwood floor.

It’d take a lot of scrubbing to get them out.

Or a well-placed throw rug.

I made a note to scour the local yard sales for a good hunk of carpet.

“Can I ask how Liam is? Or is he in some weird witness protection program?”

“He’s safe with a foster family.” She poked her head out of the kitchen and held up a palm before I could speak. “Not ours, before you ask. He’ll be treated like a king until the courts determine who gets custody—the grandparents or his father.”

“His father.” I rolled the words off my tongue like a piece of sour candy.

“Like it or not, Michael Hanover is his father. DNA test’ll prove it quick enough.” The voice drifted to me as I looked around the living room.

It looked the same but so different in my mind. I couldn’t get the images of Bernadette holding us at bay and of my being shot out of my mind.

It’d be a long time before I could relax on this couch again.

The tangled wreck of the table Bran had destroyed lay in a neat pile. She’d swept the mess together but hadn’t disposed of the warped, splintered wood. “The Callendars will likely get full visitation rights so don’t worry about that. But they’re the grandparents and the courts usually rule for the biological parent to get full custody.” She paused. “And Hanover has the money to buy enough legal beagles to either tie the Callendars up forever in court or bankrupt them.”

My stomach twisted into knots. “Even if he doesn’t want the child?”

“Ah.” Jess held up a finger. “There’s the money question. Will he pay support to the Callendars and let them raise Liam or buy himself a nanny and be an absentee father?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t want the baby in the first place. Why would he want him now?”

“Appearances.” I heard the ceramic mugs clink against each other. “He may want to look good for the social papers. Right now the barbarians are at the gates and he’s going to want to spin this to look good.”

“Even if his wife is bat-shit nuts.”

“Even if.” Jess chuckled. “I’m no lawyer but I’m willing to bet that unless the cops can prove the father had previous knowledge of the attack on Molly Callendar he’s going to end up with the child. It helps that Bernadette is confessing to everything and everyone.” She let out a sigh. “Not the best outcome but it’ll have to do.”

I rolled my head back and forth on the cushions. It was a lovely feeling after hours of sitting alone on hard wooden chairs.

Bran had disappeared into the depths of the hospital as soon as we’d arrived, a classic case of splitting us up so we couldn’t chitchat and get our stories to match. It’d taken a few hours to get stitched up and cleared medically—afterward I’d stayed silent the entire way to the police station as per Jess’s instructions.

My lawyer had been waiting for me, clutching a stack of paperwork to his chest under a plaid bow tie. The elderly man was a classic image of the country lawyer, patting my good shoulder and murmuring reassurances in my ear that it’d be okay, it’d be all fine.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’d never be okay. Never again.

“Bill Watts says hello and thanks for the work,” I told Jess.

He’d been a godsend, cutting through the police red tape with ease and efficiency. It didn’t hurt that he knew most of the prosecutors in a nonprofessional capacity and argued my side with enthusiasm. The Felis even had a packet of beef jerky in his pocket he slipped to me, knowing I’d be ravenous after the long day.

Watts had made a good enough argument with the result of a lot of the more serious charges being dropped. I might end up with a fine and probation for not reporting Shaw’s death but even that was a long shot due to what they called the “extenuating circumstances,” meaning my concern for the baby.

The family had enough connections to win me the lowest possible punishment since I had no previous convictions or even a hint of a run-in with the law before now. Watts was a lawyer but I knew we had friends and family at higher levels who would work deals to keep me on the outside.

Jess’s voice came through the thin walls. “He’s a good fellow. Dated him a thousand years ago. He’ll make it right.”

I tried not to think about Jess dating. It was like imagining your parents having sex and I’d had enough trauma for a day.

The kettle screamed for attention. I stayed on the couch. Jazz hopped up and head-butted my hip, demanding attention.

“Aren’t you a fickle one?” I stroked her automatically, relishing the cool, sleek fur under my fingers. It was a constant in the sandstorm I’d been riding recently.

Jess came out of the kitchen carrying my Brown Betty teapot on a tray along with two mugs. She placed it down on the table between us and sat in the chair.

I rubbed my eyes with the palm of my good hand.

Jess cleared her throat.

I waited.

She licked her lips, watching the teapot. Her one good eye didn’t waver from the fat brown ceramic pot.

“Family is difficult. Our family is difficult.”

“Our family is insane.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “At times, yes. But don’t forget you only see a slice of the entire pie, a wedge of our reality.” She swept a hand around. “There are Prides around the world, Felis in almost every occupation you can think of, all family interconnected by our shifting ability.”

My stomach growled.

Jess chuckled and got up. “I believe you’ve got a package of scones in the breadbox.”

I took advantage of her departure to pour out the tea before it got too strong. There was already a splash of milk in each mug, enough to take the edge off.

She returned with a pyramid of blueberry scones, the tiny triangles covered with a thin sugar glaze. I grabbed three of them and gobbled them down before she could reach her mug.

“Napkin.” She handed over a paper towel. “Let’s pretend you know your manners.”

I swiped at my mouth. “Yeahsureyoubetcha.” The hot tea burned my throat but it felt so good, so regular, so comforting after the last twenty-four hours.

“Family,” Jess started again. She shook her head. “Fuck.”

I chuckled.

“You’re worried about how Bran’s going to deal with this.” She cradled the mug in both hands, leaning forward.

“Yes,” I confessed. “I’m partially responsible for his mother going to jail and his father, ah...”

“Being an adulterous idiot?”

I scowled. “That, not so much.”

Jess looked down into her mug. “He’s a good man. His parents, however, are a piece of work. The father blackmails you into doing errands for him and the mother holds further investigation over your head to try and buy your silence.”

I flinched at the truth. It sounded even worse when she put it like that. “How did you know?”

“I heard Bernadette shrieking before I came in. I knew there was trouble inside and I wasn’t going to walk in without doing a bit of recon first.” She reached out and broke off the edge of one scone. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” I sat back and sighed, my initial burst of hunger sated for the moment. “She threatened to let the investigators loose, let them go wild digging up my family tree.”

Jess sipped her tea. “She’d have found a handful and a half. And you know how we’d have reacted.”

“Which is why I agreed to all this in the first place.” I let out a weary grunt. “And why I’m worried about Bran. I didn’t kill his parents physically but I sure as hell gave them some mortal wounds emotionally.”

“They did this to themselves.” She snapped another edge off. “You just got caught in the final mutual murder-suicide.”

I studied the little glazed crumbs in my palm. “When I was finished at the station I went looking for him. The cops told me Bran was gone with his father—trying to figure out what to do about Bernadette and how to handle it. Watts told me they’re not charging Bran with anything at this point and he’s got a high-powered Hanover-authorized lawyer watching his back.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know how he’s going to handle this. His father’s adultery, his mother’s insanity, the little half brother.”

“He’s a strong man. He’ll survive.” Jess popped the last bit of the scone into her mouth. “Don’t underestimate the mettle of that one.”

“His mother’s going to jail for some time. His father’s got a new baby to deal with and his reputation is trashed. The family name is tarnished.” I shook my head. “They had everything. How did it all go so bad?”

Jess took a deep breath before speaking. “I can understand where Bernadette’s coming from.”

My heart began to hammer in my chest.

Jess kept talking. “Sometimes we do what’s right for the family, not what’s right for us as an individual. That thing about needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few.”

I felt nauseated. The scone and tea curdled in my belly.

Her fingers tangled and untangled in her lap. “I think it’s time for me to talk to you about something.”

“Oh God.” I clutched at my chest, half-serious. “You’re not my mother, are you?”

“No.” Jess chuckled. “Isn’t that a relief, eh?”

I didn’t say anything.

She chewed on her lower lip before continuing. “Did you ever wonder how I got this?” She gestured at the deep scarlet scar marring the left side of her face.

“Figured it was a challenge. Some kit taking you on.”

Jess shook her head. “Not exactly. It was a woman, believe it or not.”

I wasn’t surprised. Challenges in the Pride could come at any time. We’d been brawling with each other almost from birth, rolling in the dirt with our crib brothers and sisters in mock battles. True challenges were heavy-duty, with both fighters usually ending up bloody and marked—not something to be entered into lightly.

Jess tapped her lips. “I was dating a young man. I loved him and I thought he loved me.”

“Ah.” I tried to sound knowledgeable but inside I was floundering around like a drowning kitten. This was unfamiliar ground.

“He cared for me but I don’t know if he ever truly loved me. There’s a difference.” She sipped her tea before continuing. “We were teenagers. Hormones in flux and all that. We were dating and it was pretty serious for about one year.” She smiled into her mug. “I thought he was going to ask my father for my hand.”

I shoved another scone in my mouth to avoid thinking too loudly.

“There was another girl who had her eye on him. He liked her too—not enough to drop me but enough to make me wonder about the depth of his love, his dedication to me.”

I shifted on the couch. This was not something I needed to hear.

“She told Eddy she loved him and knew he loved her more than he loved me. Eddy, God bless him, wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to make us both happy but since Felis don’t have polygamous relationships he knew he’d have to pick one.”

“He didn’t pick.” I could see where this was going. “He didn’t want to hurt either one of you so he didn’t pick.”

Jess nodded. “She challenged me, figuring it would settle the situation once and for all.” She gestured at her scar. “I underestimated her badly, underestimated how much she cared for Eddy.” Jess stared at me. “Edward Desjardin. Your father.”

I almost fell off the couch. Jazz trilled and bumped my hip again, sensing my confusion.

“My mom did that?” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“One helluva fighter.” Jess traced the narrow gouge. “She fought for your father. She didn’t mean to do this. This was an accident. A slip, a fall, and this happened.” A sad smile appeared. “I never held it against Grace. Not when I saw how happy they were together. On my best days with Eddy we were never that happy together. He and Grace were a perfect match, perfect mates.”

“You and my dad.” I wasn’t sure whether to be revolted, terrified or just confused.