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Deadly Charade

Page 68

by Lynette Eason

Bryce wrote down the information for the motel on a napkin and slid it to Ivan. “Theo owns the place. We discovered his real identity. Billionaire Henry Theodore.”

Ivan let out a low whistle.

Bryce continued. “The mirror in the bathroom leads to a secret room with all of Theo’s research and notes. Have you had a recent tetanus shot? The place should have been condemned ten years ago.”

Ivan threw several twenties on the table. “I’m going to check out this motel. I’ll be in touch.” Amid the bills, Bryce saw a business card and snatched it up, sticking it in his pocket in case they needed to call Ivan.

Kira slumped down in the plastic diner booth seat. “What should we do now?”

Bryce checked his watch. “It’s 4:20 a.m. I’m going to call the local police department to put someone on watch duty at my dad’s house. I don’t like the idea that these smugglers might think my dad knows more than he does. We passed a decent-looking hotel just outside of Copper Creek. Let’s get rooms and some rest. First thing this morning I’d like to convince my father to move to a hotel until this is all over. Hopefully he won’t put up too much of a fight.”

Kira yawned. “Sounds like a plan.”

They headed to the hotel and checked into adjoining rooms. He didn’t want Kira far from him. But as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out cold.

An alarm woke him up. The digital clock flashed 9:00 a.m. He groaned but rolled out of bed and called the officer on duty to make sure there hadn’t been any trouble at his father’s house. The officer indicated it had been a quiet morning. Bryce’s heart returned to a normal pace when he heard Kira moving around next door.

A quick shower reenergized him and he was ready within minutes. Kira knocked at the door and, at his invitation, poked her head in. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

“All set.”

When they checked out, Bryce extended his room—which was under a third assumed name—and prepaid for another week in cash, with the goal of having his father move in.

They left the hotel and drove over to his father’s place. “I have no idea how we’re going to convince my father to leave the house.”

The word escaped his lips so naturally. We.

He loved being part of a team with Kira. The thought of heading back to his sparsely decorated one-bedroom apartment in Richmond held less and less appeal the more time he spent with her.

Would she want to see him after this adventure ended? She’d probably be given a new partner and a chance to live her dream of working in the field.

But what would he do once the case was solved? The search for the smuggling ring had consumed his life the past five years. What was next?

Bryce waved at the officer parked in front of his father’s place. Hopefully his dad didn’t notice the extra pair of eyes on the house. He turned into the pothole-ridden dirt drive, which meant his musings about the future would have to wait. The car bounced and shuddered all the way up to the trailer.

When they approached the rickety steps leading to the front door, a voice shouted, “Come in,” over the volume of the television.

The door wasn’t locked. That wasn’t like his father.

“Dad, why isn’t the door locked?” Bryce asked as they stepped over trash on the floor.

The man swatted his hand in the direction of the police car. “I saw that officer stationed out in front of the house and figured you had something to do with it.”

Bryce knelt next to his father’s ancient armchair. “Okay, I’m working a case and it’s taken a dangerous turn. I’d like for you to leave the house for a little while. The Russian man, Victor, is a bad dude, and I don’t like having you here alone. It will only be for a little while.”

“Psh. Always working on some case. Everything is always your next big break. I’ve lived here for fifty years and nothing bad has happened. You just be on your way. Go solve your case. You’ve left me alone before. You can do it again.”

The man’s caustic attitude could cut through steel and felt like a battle he’d never win. “Dad, it’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. But you cut me off. Told me to leave. I’d like to make amends. We still have time. I just need you to stay at a hotel for a week so I know you’re safe. I’ve already paid for it. Please.”

His father turned his gaze to Kira, who stood by the doorway with her arms folded across her chest. She listened but didn’t intervene.

His father nodded to Bryce. “Who is she really? She’s not your wife. Phil from the post office said that you were divorced. Said Addie left you. I guess you couldn’t hack it as a husband after all and had to lie about it.”

Bryce’s blood boiled. Small-town gossip never ended. And who was Phil from the post office? In that moment, the memories of his seventeen-year-old self flooded back. His father’s words rang in his ears as he’d walked away from the trailer with all his worldly possessions in one box. He’d been accepted to college, and his dad threw a fit when he found the acceptance letter hidden in Bryce’s pillowcase. He’d left his own letter for Bryce, one that Bryce found when he’d unpacked that one flimsy container in his dorm room.

You’ll come crawling back one day. You think you can get out, make it on your own? Leave. Now. But never forget that you’re no better than me. My blood runs through your veins. You’re destined for failure.

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