Nothing To Lose: A Grey Justice Novel (7 page)

“Thank you.”

Kennedy waited until Julie’s car had backed out of the drive and disappeared before she turned to the front door again. At last, she could breathe. For days she had been surrounded by well-meaning people who wanted to do things for her. And while she appreciated her friends, she needed this time alone with her thoughts and her memories.

Four days ago she had buried her husband and lost their child. Yesterday, in a small private ceremony at the hospital chapel, she had said goodbye to the baby boy she’d named Thomas, Jr. and had him placed beside his father’s grave. Daddy and son were together now.
 

She needed to be alone for one reason—to say goodbye to Thomas, their baby, and her dreams. That might have seemed odd to some people, but to Kennedy it made perfect sense. Her life with Thomas had been sheer fantasy…something she’d dreamed about growing up, sure that such a beautiful life could never come true. People without a family, like her, raised in foster homes, didn’t get their heart’s desires. Survival was the best they could hope for. Secretly she had known that…but still she had dreamed. And for a while, that dream had been reality. Was losing her loved ones more painful than never having had them in the first place? It hurt that she didn’t know the answer to that question.

She stood just inside the entryway and allowed the memories to wash over her. The day they’d moved into the house, Thomas had carried her over the threshold. They hadn’t had furniture yet and had eaten burgers and fries in front of the fireplace. Then they’d made love on the hardwood floor. It had been uncomfortable and absolutely wonderful.

Each step she took, another memory came. The sheer delight on Thomas’s face when she’d told him she was pregnant. That night, and every night after, he’d gently kissed her belly and told their baby goodnight, too. She had never seen a man happier or more proud of impending fatherhood.

She stood in the middle of the hallway, and like a warm, gentle waterfall, more memories washed over her. Many were mundane and ordinary, but now extraordinarily sweet—like the time she’d had a bad cold and Thomas had snuggled on the sofa with her and watched three romantic comedies in a row without one complaint. Or the time they’d locked themselves out of the house and blamed each other. They’d both been in a bad mood, sniping at each other like kids, but by the time Thomas had hoisted her up into the kitchen window, they’d been laughing so hard that neither of them cared whose fault it had been.

Kennedy dropped her keys and purse on the hall table and took a deep breath. Even though she was so alone she literally ached to her soul, she felt instant peace at just being home.

Deciding that the hot tea Julie had mentioned sounded heavenly, she headed to the kitchen. The busyness of boiling the water and preparing the tea kept her mind occupied. When she sat to drink it, more memories threatened to assail her. And while she loved having them, she could deal with them only in increments. To distract herself, her mind returned to the alarming mystery of the man who had rescued her and taken her to the hospital. She remembered his reassuring words. His face was a blur, but if she ever heard his voice again or saw those strangely beautiful eyes, she would know him.
 

She had been in so much pain, so devastated by what was happening, she hadn’t had the presence of mind to question him. She’d just been grateful for his help. By the time he’d gotten her to the hospital, she’d been unconscious. Now, in the clear light of day, with all of her faculties, she had to admit it was downright creepy.

Had the man been outside and heard her scream? If so, he would have had to have been on the porch…or at the very least in the yard. And the alarm hadn’t gone off. Her mind might have been consumed with agony, but she would have remembered the blare of the security system. All she remembered were strong arms that had held her and a calm, masculine voice telling her to hold on, that she was going to be all right.

The hospital staff hadn’t been able to identify him. The nurse who’d met them with a gurney had said she’d paid little attention to him as her focus had been on Kennedy. She remembered a man with a tough, authoritative demeanor. That was it.
 

Even the security cameras at the hospital had been no help. All they’d shown was a tall, muscular, rather imposing man. He’d worn a baseball cap, and a black leather jacket had covered his big frame. The man had stayed long enough to see Kennedy deposited onto a stretcher. He’d been about to leave when another nurse stopped him. He had talked to her briefly and then had walked out the door. The cameras hadn’t been able to pick up any features. It was almost as if he had known where the cameras were and had avoided looking at them. He had wanted to hide his face.

The admitting nurse knew nothing other than he’d said he found Kennedy in the parking lot and had brought her inside. Her car had been found, parked haphazardly in front of the hospital. Blood had been on the driver’s seat. How had her car gotten to the hospital?
 

She shook her head at the mystery, suddenly too tired to think about it any longer. She hadn’t mentioned the incident to Nick and made a mental note to do so the next time she saw him.

She put away her mug and headed upstairs. First, she wanted to shower and then she would take a long nap. She told herself if she concentrated on the here and now, things would be less painful. She was almost convinced until she passed by the nursery. She hadn’t been inside it since she’d painted it—the night Thomas died. And now there was no reason to go into the room ever again.

Telling herself she shouldn’t, she twisted the doorknob and pushed open the door. She took a few steps inside. The lilac color really was pretty but she probably would have had to change it. Maybe to a light summer blue—the color of Thomas’s eyes.

A giant pink rabbit sat in the white rocking chair in the corner, its blank, lifeless eyes a reflection of her life. Agony hit her like a bowling ball had been thrown into her at warp speed. Her baby was gone. Thomas was gone.
 

With a howl of grief, she dropped to her knees in the middle of the room, wrapped her arms around herself, let anguish wash over her. Harsh, jagged shards of sounds erupted from her throat. She screamed, cried, shouted and cursed, wailing at the top of her lungs. She had lost her husband, her baby. God…Oh God, why? What had she done to deserve this kind of punishment? Why, dear Lord…why?

Curling up in a fetal position, Kennedy closed her eyes and allowed herself the grieving she’d been bottling up for days.

The clang of the hallway clock woke her. Stretching gingerly, she looked around and realized she’d fallen asleep on the floor. The tears had been cathartic. She felt drained and empty but oddly peaceful.

Pulling herself up to her knees, then her feet, she walked like an old woman into the master bedroom. Everything ached. First, a hot, steamy shower and then…? She didn’t know. For right now, she could think only about five minutes ahead. At some point, she’d think about the future. But not today.

Chapter Six

Kennedy stood in front of the dresser and dried her hair. The hot, bracing shower had helped. The physical aches had eased…the emotional ones remained but were thankfully numb. The bed called to her, inviting her into its warmth. She couldn’t. If she lay down, she had the strangest feeling she’d never get up.
 

Determined to not become mired in grief again, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a fleece sweatshirt. And because it was something mundane and normal, she applied makeup to her exhausted face. She still looked tired and way too pale, but at least she could almost convince herself she looked like the Kennedy she was used to seeing in the mirror and not like a woman whose perfect life had been ripped away from her.

Turning away from her reflection, she gazed about the room. What to do now? A laundry basket with freshly folded clothes caught her eye. She had done laundry a few days ago but never got the chance to put the clothes away.

Though the task would take only a few minutes, at least it was something. She opened drawers and placed the folded clothes in the correct drawers, ignoring the fact that half the clothes were Thomas’s.
Don’t think…just do.

She dropped an armload of socks into Thomas’s drawer, was about to close it when the top of her hand touched something. Puzzled, her fingers felt around. A small object was taped to the bottom of the drawer above. Carefully ripping the tape away, she removed the object and was shocked to see a small key in her palm. A safe-deposit box key.

Somewhat disturbed, she closed the drawer, stepped back, and stared at the object for several seconds. Not usually one to look for signs or believe in premonitions, the more she stared at the key, the more she felt the need to know the reason Thomas had hidden it. Why would he even have a safe-deposit box anyway? They had shared a bank account, and as far as she knew, he’d had no valuables that would require him to lock them away. To her mind, that meant one thing—he had valued something he didn’t want anyone else to know about.
 

Without giving herself time to think…to wonder if she truly wanted to know what Thomas had hidden from her, Kennedy grabbed her purse and ran out the door. Even though there was no bank name on the key, it made sense that Thomas would rent a box at their bank. The main branch was downtown, which was where the safe-deposit boxes would be. The traffic would be heavy at this time of day, but she couldn’t wait another minute to see what was inside the box.

Cyrus Denton tried to ignore the trembling of his hands as he made the call. His people had never messed up so badly before. His men wouldn’t get the blame, though. This was on his head alone.

When the phone rang on the other end, he swallowed and forced strength into his voice he didn’t feel. “She’s headed to the bank. She found a key to a safe-deposit box. That must be where he hid the papers.”

“I thought you searched the house. How did you miss a key?”

“We did a thorough search. Looks like he taped it to the bottom of a drawer.”

“I don’t want excuses. I want the problem handled. If there’s anything in that box that incriminates the family…”
 

The threat remained unspoken but was clearly understood. Wouldn’t do any good to mention that none of this would’ve been screwed up if Cyrus had been given the green light to act weeks ago. What was done was done. They’d all learned a lesson.

This Slater wasn’t the one who concerned him. The one he was most scared of would make Satan himself wary.

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

“You damn well better. I don’t have to tell you what’s at stake.”

“It’s as good as done. I’ll call you when it’s over.”
 

“I’ll look forward to the call.”

He dropped the phone on the seat beside him and blew out a breath. He’d been taking care of the Slaters’ problems for more than a quarter of a century, had done things for them that would make a normal man puke. He rarely thought about it anymore…the job was what it was. In a way, the Slaters were his family—not by blood but by loyalty. Still, this particular case was beyond distasteful. Nevertheless, it was his job to get done.

Ignoring the knowledge that he was adding another stamp to his one-way ticket to hell, Cyrus followed Kennedy O’Connell’s silver Ford Taurus as it headed downtown. He didn’t worry about being spotted. His older model Chevy van was an innocuous navy blue, blending in seamlessly with the heavy work traffic.
 

They had known for some time that incriminating evidence had been leaked. The “who” had been discovered several days ago, but the “what” was still in question. He had a feeling the “where” was about to be answered.
 

During O’Connell’s funeral, his people had combed every inch of that damn house and found nothing. Even though he had been positive the place had been clean, he’d been around the block too often to take chances and had ordered cameras to be placed in some strategic areas. Once again, his experience had paid off.
 

He hadn’t yet figured out how this would go down. Fortunately, he was good at improvising. By the end of the night, two things would happen: He’d have whatever incriminating information Thomas O’Connell had been hiding, and the man’s lovely widow would join her husband in the afterlife.

Thinking about that gave him chills. He felt a softness for the woman he didn’t usually feel for people. While his men had been searching O’Connell’s house, he’d gone to the graveside service. The young widow had held up like a stoic soldier. When she’d leaned over the coffin and caressed it lovingly, he’d seen her lips move. She had been saying one last goodbye to her husband. Despite his own cold, dead heart, a lump had developed in his throat.

Thomas O’Connell’s death had been unfortunate but necessary. Using the discretionary funds for jobs such as this, Cyrus had paid for the hit with only a small amount of regret. O’Connell had messed with the wrong people. It was as simple as that. The man had known enough about the Slaters to realize that you tangled with them at your own risk.
 

Killing O’Connell’s widow was a different matter. It wasn’t because she was a woman. Lord knew he’d arranged for more than a few females to disappear over the years. No, what Cyrus was having trouble with was her very innocence. Never had he taken anyone out who hadn’t been either dirty or a threat to his employer.