A rap sounded on her car window. “Miss Blake?”
A police officer in uniform, his badge clearly visible. Opening the door, she stepped out of the car. “Officer, my father is dead.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “He and Lucy, his caretaker, are both dead.”
Chapter Five
Monday, December 7, 4:30 p.m.
“GK, are you there?”
Sitting at her kitchen bar, Gabby read the text message from Shadow Watcher and asked herself the same question. Was she?
She’d dealt with the police the night of the murder, spoken with Detective James Marsh, who’d been assigned the homicide case, and with Special Agent Andrew Bain, the FBI agent assigned, though no one had yet explained to her why the FBI was involved in the double-homicide case.
The potential Medros connection created priority status on processing the scene and in the coroner’s office. Gabby had arranged for a graveside service for her father, which only she and two of his former co-workers had attended, and she had gone to Lucy Mason’s funeral. Hundreds were there; her family devastated, ravaged by grief.
The contrast in the two services was stark and unnerving. And it made Gabby wonder. If she died, beyond an empty desk at her office, would anyone notice?
That inevitably led to her spending a lot of time thinking. Asking herself questions she maybe should have asked long ago. The one plaguing her now was particularly rough. Her insides felt clawed and shredded, ripped apart and trapped in the merciless clenches of regret and grief. If she’d been a different kind of daughter, would Adian Blake have been a different kind of father?
In the hours since returning home to her apartment, Gabby’s mind tumbled as if caught up in a tornado’s twisting winds. She doubted everything—her faith, her priorities, even herself. But sometime between three and four, totally overwhelmed and a breath from breaking down, she put all her fears and insecurities and regrets and wishes in God’s hands. His vision was 20/20 on everything. Hers was too cloudy to trust at all, and she was flawed and rattled to the core. Staring at the phone screen, she repeated Shadow Watcher’s question to her in her mind. Was she there?
She was. What there was of her and, at the moment, she just couldn’t be sure exactly what that included. As odd as her grief might be, it definitely made everything seem worse.
Settled, she lifted her phone and answered Shadow Watcher’s text. “I’m here.”
“The funerals go okay?”
“About like funerals go,” she texted back. “I’m glad they are done.”
“I wish you had let me come with you.”
He had offered. Multiple times. And she’d refused. Facing the funerals on her own, she could do it. She had faced everything in her life alone. But if he had been there with her, she would have leaned hard on him. Maybe. Probably, as messed up as she was right now. What would have happened then? She might have fallen apart. That was the thing about depending on someone else for anything. It made you weak and vulnerable. Then, when he drew back from her, where would she be? Alone again. Only this time, she’d know what she was missing. Know what it was like to have someone to lean on. No. No, she couldn’t do it. She’d be a fool to put herself through that.
“You doing all right?”
How did she answer that? Was anyone who’d lost a parent on Friday all right on Monday? Okay, so they had been distant, nearly strangers. He had never been a dad. He hadn’t wanted to be in her life or wanted her in his life. But they’d had a chance to bond—well, the start of a chance to bond—and now that was gone and so was he.
Being orphaned at any age is hard. When death robs you of your one chance to prove your worth, it’s merciless. Constantly hammering your heart. “Yeah, I’m all right,” she responded. Whether or not that was true, it was all she was capable of at the moment. “Agent Bain called. He’s coming over with an update.”
“Today? Are you up to that right now?”
Concerned. She felt Shadow Watcher’s worry. “Considering the murderer is still out there, and I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder every second, yeah, I am fine with him coming now. The sooner, the better.”
“Troop Search and Rescue sends its condolences, GK. Anything you need, anything at all, you just say the word. We’re all on stand-by for you.”
“Thanks.” Moved, her throat thickened, and her chest tightened. “Settling his affairs won’t be difficult. His lawyer’s already been in touch and everything is in order. He did a full legal review a few months ago.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t that an interesting question? I can’t answer it. Unfortunately, neither could his attorney.”
“Fits in with your father’s expectation someone would kill him, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” she admitted, then went on, grateful the words could be typed and certain she could never speak them. “It also confirms the stroke had nothing to do with the reason he felt that fear.”
“Agreed. He’s apparently worried about it for months, having the legal review. Are you thinking the stroke was induced?”
“Aren’t you?” she whispered aloud while keying in her response.
The doorbell rang.
“Agent Bain has arrived. Will get back to you after he leaves.” Her fingertip hovered above the Send button. Debating, she added, “Thanks for caring, SW.”
“My privilege, GK. I’ll be waiting.”
Feeling a little less alone and despondent, Gabby stuffed her phone in the back pocket of her jeans on her way to the front door. She’d intended to change clothes before Agent Bain arrived, but messaging with Shadow Watcher had done her a lot more good. Suck it up and stuff it down, Gabby.
She checked the peephole and recognized the agent standing just beyond her door. He’d been with the NOPD homicide detective, James Marsh, the night of the murder at her father’s house. Typical FBI black suit, white shirt and tie. Early forties, brown hair and nondescript, forgettable features. An asset in his line of work, she supposed. He’d removed his dark sunglasses, so she could easily identify him through the peephole.
Gabby twisted the deadbolt and then opened the door. “Agent Bain.”
“Miss Blake.” When she stepped back, he walked inside. “I’m sorry to intrude, especially with the funerals being today.”
Funerals. Plural. He knew she’d attended Lucy Mason’s funeral as well as her father’s. Gabby thought she’d seen him and Detective Marsh there, but honestly, she’d been absorbing so much in the stark difference between her father’s funeral and Lucy Mason’s, it was all a bit of a blur. Add her guilt about Lucy’s murder, earned or not, and all the heartbroken grievers mourning Lucy, Gabby had been an internal wreck. But she had gotten through it all upright. That wasn’t much, but it’s what she had, so she held onto it tightly. “Come in and have a seat,” she told Bain. “Can I get you something hot to drink?” It had been a chillingly cold day and the night had turned frigid.
“No, thank you.” He walked over to the sofa but waited for her to sit down in her comfy chair before sitting. “I wanted to wait at least until tomorrow to get in touch, but there’s been a development that made waiting imprudent.”