Slow Burn (26 page)

Relief sliced through Ron. Thank goodness
Ashley came to her senses about police protection. The woman might
be pig-headed, but stupid she was not. “Good. Have you met the
officers who’ll be working with her?”

“Yes, sir. There are two outside the building
in a van, and two more, including a woman, who’ll stay here in the
lobby.”

At least now he wouldn’t have the security
guards and Kenny’s people guarding her on the sly. “Thanks for
letting me know, Jeffrey.”

He hung up and tried Ashley’s number. Both
her house line and cell phone were busy. He left a voicemail,
finished getting dressed and left the bedroom. Kenny was on the
living room sofa, eating breakfast while watching ESPN. Ron served
himself a plate of eggs and bacon his friend had left for him,
poured another cup of coffee and settled in an armchair. For a
moment, they ate and watched sports.

Ron waited until Kenny was done before he
said, “So? What’s the latest?”

The investigator put aside his empty plate
and rested his elbows on his knees, his gaze penetrating as he
studied Ron. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Ron slanted him a puzzled look. “What are you
talking about?”

“After last night, I think we should revise
our thinking. The facts are; whoever is behind this mess is willing
to eliminate Hogan, Kirkland and Ashley. He or she is deliberately
ignoring your involvement. And no one’s gone after your mother
either.”

Ron grimaced. He’d wondered when his friend
would go back to back to their original assumption. Before he and
Kenny went to Sunset Marquis Hotel, they’d discussed the
possibility of his uncle derailing their investigation. They
eliminated him when the description the busboy gave them didn’t fit
Gregory.

Ron leaned back against the chair and
scrubbed his face. It was hard to imagine his uncle doing anything
criminal or hurting people. Gregory was ruthless when it came to
business, but to actually off someone? It just didn’t fit with the
man Ron knew and loved. The very thought that his uncle could be
the mastermind behind what was happening around him left a nasty
taste in Ron’s mouth.

“I’ll have another talk with Uncle
Gregory.”

Kenny didn’t respond, his gaze unwavering.
“Man, this is jacked up.”

“Let’s not reach any conclusions yet,” Ron
said in a firm voice. He refused to believe his uncle was
guilty.

Kenny shrugged. “Whatever you want. Remember,
I have your back. About the bugs, thanks for giving us access to
your company’s inventory of purchased orders. You’ve had a quite a
bit of sales of the technical surveillance equipment like the ones
we found at Ashley’s. I’ve a tech kid who can break in and out of
any system without a trace. He’s checking the inventory of the
other dealers on the west coast, cross-checking with local P.I.
firms who’ve recently purchased anything. So far, there’s no P.I.
firm owned or run by a Dunn. Hopefully, searching employee database
for anyone fitting Dunn’s description will give us some lead.”

Unless his uncle was behind this whole thing
and just helped himself to the TS gizmos. There would be no IPOs or
paper trail. Ron pushed his suspicions aside, but a hollow feeling
settled in his stomach. He had to stop thinking that his uncle was
guilty. “Dunn probably used a fake name.”

Kenny’s eyes narrowed in thought then he
nodded. “That’s a possibility. I’ve more bad news. Jackson,
McKinney and Borough are missing.”

His father’s former fire buddies? He propped
his elbows on his knees and pinned Kenny down with a glare. “What
do you mean missing? I spoke with them two weeks ago.”

“I stopped by their boat charter business for
a private chat and was informed they’d gone fishing. Something they
did every year an employee told me. I went to their homes and got
the same story from their wives. I wasn’t buying it, so I paid
their offices another visit after hours.”

“And?”

“I checked their data log. A boat is missing
at the marina.”

Ron rubbed his nape, frustration knitting his
gut. “Maybe we should stop the investigation.”

“It won’t make a difference, man. Whoever is
doing this has something to hide, and from my experience, they
won’t stop until they’ve tied all the loose ends, which I’m afraid,
includes your artist friend.”

That was what Ron was afraid of. He needed to
talk to his family, starting with his mother. Yesterday, he’d
warned her about Dunn, but she hadn’t taken him seriously. Ron
jumped to his feet, walked to the kitchen phone and speed dialed
her home number.

As he waited for the phone to be picked up,
he said, “Ashley had a very interesting theory about all this. She
thinks Ryan Doyle could be trying to scare her off.”

“He could accomplish that without offing
Hogan and beating up Kirkland. Then there are the letters, not
exactly Doyle’s style. Still, it’s an interesting theory. Do you
know if Doyle tried to buy the house before? You know, about the
time of the fire?”

“No, but I can ask my mother.”

A pensive expression settled on Kenny’s face.
“You do that. Meanwhile, I’m going to dig into the man’s
background, see if there’s a connection between him and the
firefighters. I have my computer wiz kid on speed dial. He should
be able to sniff out a money trail no matter how old it is. The
three men retired immediately after the fire and opened the charter
business at the marina together. I don’t know what the retirement
package for firefighters was in those days, but I doubt it was
enough to buy several boats.”

“They could have gotten a loan from a
bank.”

“Then we’ll find it. If not, your woman might
be into something.”

His woman.
He liked that. Ron nodded.
“Yeah, she’s very sharp. Just a sec.” Someone had picked up the
phone on the other side. “Mom?”

“Do you know what time it is?” Nina
griped.

She sounded sleepy which wasn’t surprising.
She never got up on Sundays until well after midday. He looked at
his watch. “Ten o’clock. I want you to listen very carefully to me,
mother.” He quickly explained about the missing firefighters and
stressed what happened to Hogan and Kirkland. “Stay inside and have
at least two guards with you at all times.”

“Poor Hogan,” she muttered.

“Mom? Did you get everything I said?”

“Of course, Ronald. I won’t go anywhere. Who
could be behind this?”

“Anyone.” He cleared his throat. “Was Ryan
Doyle after Carlyle House ten years ago?”

“How did you know? I turned him down. He even
offered to pay more than the Fitzgeralds. I’d never have that man
living in a house my grandfather built with his sweat and blood. I
told him then what my realtor told him weeks ago, no. Why are you
asking about him? Do you think he’s the one behind this mess?” Her
voice became stringent. “If he is, then you must stop this
investigation, Ronald. That man is capable of anything.”

“I’m not sure if he is the one, Mom. I’m just
trying to weed out possible suspects.” Something Ashley had said
flitted in his thoughts. “Was there a secret room in Carlyle House
ten years ago? A filthy room?”

There was silence.

“Mom?”

“What do you mean a secret room?” Her voice
was hesitant.

“Ashley was filthy the night of the fire. I
wondered how she got that way.”

“Don’t believe anything that silly girl tells
you.”

Disdain dripped in every word, but something
in her voice set off warning bells in his head. “Mother? What
aren’t you telling me?”

A longer silence followed, then a sigh. “Come
to the house and we’ll talk.”

His family and more secrets, he should have
known. Ron pressed the off button and dialed Ashley’s cell number
first. He glanced at Kenny. His friend was back on the couch,
surfing the channels. “Doyle offered to buy the house ten years
ago, just like he’s doing now.”

Kenny grinned. “That’s good to know.”

“Watch your back, my friend. I’d hate to have
you disappear on me, too.”

“Discretion is my middle name,” Kenny
bragged. “How’s your mother taking all this?”

“Seriously now. Yesterday she refused to
accept that Hogan’s death and the attack on Kirkland was connected
to our investigation.” Now she wanted to reveal a few family
skeletons. Ron sighed. His head pounded in earnest and tension
knotted his insides. When would this madness end? He put the phone
back down with barely suppressed frustration. Ashley’s line was
busy, again. He’d have to stop at her place on his way to his
mother’s.

“I need to get the hell out of here,” Ron
muttered.

Kenny jumped to his feet. “Same here.”

Ron picked up his jacket, patted the pocket
to make sure his keys were in there and led the way to the door. “I
hope those three men went fishing like their wives said.”

“I feel you, my friend,” Kenny said as they
stepped out of the house.

“Could you check on someone else for me? A
Dr. Vogel. Ashley called her when her home was bugged, which means
whoever was listening on the other end knows she made an
appointment to undergo hypnosis. Dunn also followed her to the
doc’s place. With people vanishing left and right, I don’t want to
add another woman to the list.”

Kenny nodded. “I’ll take care of it. And if
you need some manpower to keep an eye on her or your mom, just say
the word. I can spare a few people.”

“Then make it happen.”

They clasped their right hands, bumped
shoulders in a masculine hug, then separated and headed to their
respective cars.

***

Ashley paused at the top of the stairs and
grimaced. She had to accept the inevitable, her privacy was gone.
She’d kissed it bye-bye when she agreed to work with the police.
According to Officer Marissa Kilpatrick, five-foot-four bundle of
rules and regulations, the light and motion activated cameras would
kick in as soon as Ashley stepped on the stairs.

Every move she made would be displayed on the
screens in the lobby. She was tempted to run back to the bathroom
and hide for a while. The bathrooms were the only places without
their little gizmos.

I can do this. I volunteered to do it, so I’d
better get with the program.

Taking a deep breath, Ashley took that first
step, then another. At the bottom of the stairs, she glanced at the
corners of the room, where they’d planted their cameras, and gave a
smile and a wave.

Could they tell she was self-conscious? She
tried to pretend she was alone as she went about pouring a cup of
coffee. She sat on a stool and took a long sip. The brew tasted
like cough syrup. She needed to get out of here. The clock said it
was half past ten, time to head to the cemetery for a chat with her
parents. She’d already spoken to Officer Kilpatrick about it. From
the cop’s expression when she’d told her about wanting to visit her
parents’ graves, the woman probably thought Ashley was nuts to
visit the cemetery when a killer was after her.

Thoughts of her parents brought images of
last night’s nightmare to the forefront. A shudder shook Ashley.
The dream had seemed so real. Could she have witnessed the murder
of her parents ten years ago? Was that why she blocked the memories
of that night?

The possibility that the dream was a recap of
her lost memory, that those two men had something to do with the
murder of her parents was frightening. Unless she was going insane,
Vaughn’s driver and the man who killed her parents in her dream was
the same person in the unfocused photograph Ron had showed her. Yet
she couldn’t remember taking his picture.

Ashley shook her head. There was no point in
stressing over what might have happened. She’d get her answers soon
enough under hypnosis. Picking up the phone, Ashley dialed the
lobby. Kilpatrick told her to wait for an escort. Accommodating,
Sanchez had said. Someone forgot to add the word in Kilpatrick’s
vocabulary.

Five minutes later, her doorbell rang.

Ashley opened the door and smiled at Officer
Kilpatrick. No way would anyone who saw them together think they
were friends. Despite her black pants and casual jacket, the
brunette had Police Academy discipline written all over her
unsmiling, vigilant face. Ashley’s friendly overtures were met with
monosyllable answers. Sighing, Ashley followed her along the
hallway.

“Let’s take the stairs. I, uh, don’t like
elevators,” Ashley said when the officer pressed the button for the
elevator.

This time, the cop kept her expression
neutral, just nodded and started down the stairs. They were seven
floors up. Kilpatrick with her toned body could probably jog
downstairs and back up without breaking a sweat. Before they got to
the last set of stairs, voices from the lobby reached Ashley and
she froze, causing Officer Kilpatrick to stop, too.

“Are you saying I can’t go upstairs?” Ron was
asking, and he sounded pissed. From the direction of his voice, he
was somewhere near the elevator.

Ashley imagined what would have happened if
she had used it and not the stairs. Facing Ron after he learned she
didn’t want to see him anymore would have been darn near
impossible.

“I’m sorry, sir, just following orders.” The
security guard’s tone indicated he hated being the bearer of bad
news. “I’ll let the cop explain, sir.”

“We’re under strict orders not to allow Ms.
Fitzgerald any visitors, Mr. Noble,” Officer Kilpatrick’s partner
said in a firm voice.

“Whose orders?” Ron snapped.

“My superiors, sir.”

“Do you want me to handle this, ma’am?”
Officer Kilpatrick whispered from beside Ashley.

Ashley shook her head. “He’ll, uh, leave
soon.” She hoped so.

A frown crossed the woman’s serious face.
“He’s the one Sanchez said wasn’t to come near you, right?”

Put that way, it made Ron sound like some
undesirable member of society. “Yes. I don’t want him, you know,
involved in this mess.” She waved toward the lobby. “Your partner
knows he’s not to tell him about the deal I made with Officer
Sanchez, right?”