Gilded Craving: Cowboy Justice Association (Serials and Stalkers Book 3) Page 3

  Knox shoved a fry in his smiling mouth. "Happy to."

  Chris wagged a finger at Knox. "Just ignore him. He likes to act like he's so wise and all but he doesn't know shit."

  That's exactly what Ryan was going to do. Knox couldn't possibly understand the pressure that he was under when he was around his family. They were never going to give up and let him live his life.

  But he did want to know what happened to Brad. Could he risk a trip back home to find the answers? Did he dare delve into a past that was best left behind?

  Then there was Mariah. She'd be there.

  She was the one person he didn't think he could face.

  4

  O'Hare Airport hadn't changed since the last time Ryan had flown in - just as big and perhaps even busier. He grabbed a cab to his apartment while tapping out a text to Logan to let him know that he'd arrived.

  After talking with the guys at lunch, there hadn't been much left for Ryan to mull over. He was going to take the case. He wanted to know what had happened to Brad all those years ago, and he was in the perfect position to do the investigation. He knew the players and - for the most part - he had their trust.

  As for Mariah, he was sure he could avoid her. He'd see her at the party but the rest of the time he'd give her a wide berth. She'd been at the bar the night that Brad had disappeared but he probably didn't even need to talk to her. He'd been with her the entire evening so her recollection was his recollection. At least that's what he was telling himself.

  Chicago traffic was heavy but eventually the cab pulled up in front of his apartment building located in Lincoln Park. He'd had a hard time explaining to his firm's administrative assistant that he didn't need a hotel booked for the trip. He already had a place to stay. His parents owned the building and they'd gifted him the apartment when he'd graduated from college. They'd said they always wanted him to have a home in Chicago no matter what happened in his life. He'd taken it as they didn't think he could make a living and pay for a place to live on a cop's salary. But it did come in handy from time to time.

  When he came to visit, he didn't have to stay in his parents' home or impose on his sister and brother-in-law. He could decompress in his own place and even leave his socks on the floor if he wanted to. He couldn't do that living with Jack and Patricia. They liked their home to look like no one actually lived there.

  He pushed his key into the apartment door but it didn't click, simply swinging open. He could hear the sound of music and some familiar off-key singing.

  Liza, his sister. What was she doing here?

  "You're lucky I don't have a gun. I might have shot you."

  She had his refrigerator and kitchen cabinets wide open; brown grocery bags were spread out over the marble countertops. When she saw him, she grinned and ran straight for him, wrapping him in a big hug.

  "It's so good to see you," she squealed, pressing a kiss to his cheek and hugging him again. "I was hoping to have all of this done before you got here. Your flight must have made good time. And no, I don't think you would have shot me."

  "I didn't expect you here. You should never surprise a cop."

  "You're a former cop and I'm your sister. Besides, are you really that jumpy that you’d shoot first and ask questions later? You might want to see someone about that if it's true."

  His gaze ran over the overflowing bags. "How about you tell me what you're doing here? How did you even know that I was coming?"

  Her brows rose. "Maybe I have a crystal ball?"

  If she did it was Waterford.

  "You've never been psychic in your life. Try again."

  She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. He was struck by how much she resembled their mother. Long dark hair and brown eyes. Petite and slim. How had he not noticed that before? There was a photo of Patricia Beck on the fireplace mantle in their vacation home in Paris that looked just like Liza.

  "You called the doorman and he called me. Simple."

  "Why did the doorman call you?"

  She shoved a container of ice cream into the freezer. Chocolate. He made a mental note to rip into that later tonight.

  "Because I'm managing most of the family real estate these days, brother dear."

  "I didn't know that."

  "You would know if you took an interest in your family."

  "I take an interest."

  "Barely." She snapped the freezer door shut. "So anyway, the doorman told me you were coming and I decided to be a lovely sister and fill your pantry so you wouldn't starve."

  He held up his phone. "I can order in."

  "You could but I know you. You like to cook."

  He did like to cook. Nothing was better than a home-cooked meal. He was self-taught but he wasn't too bad in the kitchen. He hadn't poisoned anyone yet, and the people he'd cooked for were quite complimentary.

  "Thank you, that was nice. It looks like you bought out the store, though. I may not be here that long."

  She folded up one of the empty grocery bags. "That was my next question. How long are you going to be here? Obviously, you'll be here for the party."

  It was only coincidence that he'd been assigned to a case at the same time as his mother's birthday party, but yes, he would be here for that.

  "Actually, I'm here in Chicago on a case."

  Her head jerked up and her brows pinched together. "A case? You're not here for the party?"

  "I will be here for the party," he stated firmly. "I promise. But I was assigned to investigate Brad's death. You probably don't know but–"

  "I know," she interrupted, her lips turning down sadly. "I know about Brad. Mom mentioned that the family was going to try and get you to investigate, but to be honest I assumed you'd say no."

  Ryan ignored the fact that saying no had been his first response.

  "You didn't think I'd care enough?"

  Liza shrugged. "I was eighteen months younger than you but I ran with the same crowd. I don't remember you and Brad being best buddies."

  "We were friends...especially when we were younger."

  "Time changes some things. Still, I'm glad that you said yes. I would imagine finding out what happened that night won't be easy. It was so long ago."

  "What do you remember about that night?"

  Softly chuckling, Liza smiled at her memories. "That I wasn't supposed to be in that bar to begin with. I had a fake ID and I was afraid to get caught. Mom and Dad would been livid if they found out. I also remember that Mike asked me to dance. I was so excited."

  Mike Monroe was Liza's husband but they hadn't started dating that night. It had been several years before they'd ended up together. Ryan had always liked the guy and he'd been glad when they’d married.

  "Speaking of Mike, how's he doing? I haven't talked to him in awhile."

  "He's so busy," Liza explained. "He has several big cases that he's handling. I hardly see him during the week. He works crazy hours."

  Mike worked for his family's law firm and was one of the leading corporate attorneys in Chicago. Maybe New York City and Los Angeles too.

  "Are you going to want to talk to him?" she asked, placing the last of the groceries in the cabinets. "He was there and he was friends with Brad."

  "Eventually I'll need to talk to everyone."

  When Liza didn't reply right away, he knew something was up. She was rarely at a loss for words.

  "Is there something you want to say?"

  She tucked the garbage bags in a lower cabinet and then straightened. "I was just going to tell you that talking to Mariah won't be a problem."

  He hadn't really planned on talking to Mariah, but he wasn't going to tell his sister that.

  "That's good."

  Liza picked up her handbag and dug into it, jangling her keys. "I didn't tell you before but I guess I better tell you now so you're not surprised. Again. I wouldn't have to tell you these things if you spent more time here with your family."

  More guilt.

  "You're getting almost
as good as Mom when it comes to sending me on a guilt trip. Spit it out. What's going on?"

  She huffed a bit but continued. "Fine. Talking to Mariah won't be a problem because she lives across the hall. She bought the other half of this floor right after Christmas. She uses it as her home and art studio. So if you were thinking about trying to avoid her, I'm afraid that won't be possible. She's your neighbor. Now I need to get going. I have an appointment in a few hours. How about we try to have lunch tomorrow? I'll let you pick up the check."

  Mariah? Only a few feet away. This could not be happening.

  The one woman he didn't want to see was sleeping across the hall.

  This wasn't going to be good. Not for him, and probably not for her.

  They just didn't belong together. End of story.

  Ryan's voice was deep and rich, like melted chocolate on the senses. It had sent tingles down Mariah's spine when they were together. She could have listened to him read the phone book and been happy as a clam. She'd teased him once that he should have been a stage actor, spouting Shakespeare for an adoring audience. He'd just laughed and not taken her seriously.

  That summed up their entire relationship in a nutshell. She'd talk and he wouldn't take her seriously. He'd already made up his mind about...everything. He didn't know much about compromising and he hadn't loved her enough to try. Or maybe he simply didn't know how. She'd had her issues as well. Patience hadn't been her strong suit and she hadn't known how bad for better or worse could get. She did now, though. Her divorce had been final for about a year. She wasn't all that proud that she hadn't been able to make it work.

  Maybe it never was Ryan at all. Maybe I was always the problem.

  It had been a long time since she'd heard Ryan's voice - since Liza's wedding five years ago. She and Ryan had tried to avoid one another that day but they were both in the wedding party and it had been pretty much impossible. She'd actually seen him duck into the kitchen at the reception when she was walking in his direction. She hadn't planned to speak to him. She'd only be heading to the ladies' room.

  Since it had been so long, Mariah had assumed she was immune to it. Wrong.

  She'd been coming home from a meeting today, just unlocking her own front door, when she'd heard his voice. It had permeated the old walls in the building and once more she was transported back to the past. She'd been spending far too much time there since Brad's body had been discovered.

  She couldn't say she wasn't warned. Liza had called and told her that Ryan was coming to Chicago for the party but Mariah had thought it wouldn't be this soon. She'd scurried into her own apartment and quickly shut the door as if she could block out the memories that always crowded her thoughts whenever Ryan was in the same city limits.

  She'd dated other men. She'd even been in love with one or two of them. What was it about this one man that made her lose all common sense? It was almost enough to have her pouring a glass of wine in the middle of the day.

  Almost.

  Instead, she rummaged in her pantry and grabbed the bag of dark chocolate that she kept for emergencies. She needed a hit of sugar and she needed it quickly to bring her back to reality. It wasn't thirteen years ago. It was now, the present.

  Ryan Beck was the past. That's where he needed to stay.

  5

  Skip and Lily Harrington lived in a penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan. Ryan had been there several times in his youth and it appeared that not much had changed. The doorman was different and the carpeted hallways looked freshened up but the inside of the Harrington home was almost identical except for a few different paintings on the walls.

  Their fireplace mantle had several photos of Brad through the years and Ryan found his gaze resting on them long enough that it caught the notice of Lily.

  "He was such a handsome young man," Lily said, her tone full of pride for her oldest son. "I think he favors his father but he has my eyes."

  Lily did have the same blue eyes.

  "I think he does look like you," Ryan said, settling on the edge of a chair. Lily and Skip were sitting on the couch to his right. "He has your chin too."

  That statement apparently pleased Lily because she beamed, reaching out to pat her husband's arm. "I think Ryan might be right."

  Skip nodded and held his wife's hand. He wasn't smiling. "We're very grateful that you could come on such short notice and handle this investigation. I'm not sure that the police are going to give it much attention, to be honest. They seem to think that it all happened too long ago."

  The Harrington family had a great deal of pull in Chicago and were well-connected, Ryan had a feeling that the police were going to do more than they normally would but they were trying to temper expectations.

  I need to do that too. Right now.

  "Solving a cold case isn't easy," Ryan replied. "Memories get fuzzy, witnesses disappear or pass on, and evidence gets lost. It's an uphill battle and we don't always win. I'm going to do my very best for you but you need to understand that I may not be able to find out what truly happened to Brad that night."

  "If anyone can find out, it's you," Lily said. "You were there."

  "I was," Ryan conceded. "But I wasn't around Brad the whole night. I don't know that I have anything to add to the investigation."

  "You're a Beck," Skip said confidently, a small smile appearing on his tanned and lined face. "So I know you won't give up until you find out what happened to my boy. I have confidence in you."

  A Beck? What did that even mean?

  "I'll do my best for you. I just want us all to be on the same page." He cleared his throat. This part wasn't going to be easy. Parents always think that they know everything about their child, but the reality was they rarely do. "What can you tell me about Brad that last week before he disappeared? Did he have any visitors? Was he acting strangely? Anything at all that you might be able to tell me could help, even if you think it's not important."

  Lily and Skip exchanged a quick glance and through some unspoken agreement decided to let Skip start.

  "Brad was in good spirits," the older man said. "He'd had a few bumps in the road during the school year but he'd pulled it together at the end of the semester and done well. He was planning on going to law school so he could join the family firm. Did he tell you that?"

  "He did," Ryan confirmed. "He was hoping for Yale Law, just like you."

  Skip nodded again. "It would have meant the world to me to have my son following in my footsteps."

  They were silent and Ryan didn't prod, letting them gather their thoughts in their own time. He'd learned not to intervene or try to guide the conversation too much.

  "He was dating Caroline." Skip fidgeted on the couch, his lips pressed together. "She ended up marrying Danny. He was Brad's best friend."

  He was speaking about Caroline Charles and Daniel Bosworth. Ryan had attended their wedding about eight years ago. They appeared to be a happy couple.

  Lily nudged her husband. "Skip, it wasn't like she ran off with Danny the next day. It was years later and she deserves to be happy. After all, Brad–"

  "I won't hear ill of my dead son," Skip interjected, color rising in his cheeks. "He was young and just sowing some wild oats. He wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose."

  Fortunately - or maybe unfortunately - Ryan knew what Lily was referring to. He'd run in a small, rather tight knit group and everyone had known everyone else's business.

  "I'm aware that Brad was seeing other girls," Ryan said. "It wasn't a huge secret. I'm sure Caro was aware as well, to be honest."

  Lily's eyes were wet with unshed tears. "As Skip said, Brad was young. He would have straightened up eventually and married Caroline."

  Ryan didn't want to contradict their beliefs but he'd heard Brad on more than one occasion saying that he didn't want to marry anybody until he was over forty. He'd liked his freedom and didn't want to be tied down. He'd liked Caroline too but he hadn't been all that serious about her. She was simply the girlfriend that
his parents approved of. Brad kept the other females in his life away from his mom and dad.

  "Do you know any of the other girls that Brad was seeing? Their names would be helpful."

  Skip shook his head. "We don't but their names might be in his phone."

  "Do you have his phone?"

  Ryan was sure that Brad had it with him that night.

  "The police recovered the phone," Lily explained, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. "It was with...him."

  In other words, they'd found it with the body.

  "We'd just bought him a brand-new iPhone," Skip said, his hand reaching for Lily's. "He was really excited about it."

  Ryan remembered that. Smart phones had been brand new back then and they'd all wanted the latest toy. Brad had been one of the first to get his.

  "I'll check with the police to get access to it."

  It probably would be a waste of time though. A phone buried underground wasn't going to be in any sort of decent condition. With any luck, his firm might be able to pull information from phone records.

  "If they give you any trouble, let me know. They told me they'd cooperate fully with you," Skip replied, his bushy brows pulled down. "I'll call Stan or Gary."

  Stan was a congressman and Gary was a senator. Skip played golf with them regularly. So did Ryan's dad. They all belonged to the same country club.

  "Is there anything else you can remember?" Ryan queried. "Was he out of sorts about anything? Secretive? Was he mad or sad or excited?"

  "He was excited about the trip to Hawaii," Lily said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "He talked about it whenever we saw him."

  "Did you see him that day? Was there anything unusual?"

  Skip shook his head. "We didn't see him that day but that wasn't strange or anything. He was twenty-one and he had his own life. We'd see him every few days at dinner or he'd stop by my office for a cup of coffee."

  Ryan hadn't spent all that much time with his family either. He'd wanted to believe that he was all grown up. Of course, he hadn't been but he wanted to think that he was.