Private S.W.A.T. Takeover. Julie Miller
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trips. Scared all the fish away with our singing. All the brothers, too.”
He heard a bit of a laugh. Good. Maybe not.
He easily supported her weight as she wrapped her arm more tightly through his and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. As he looked down at the crown of her dark brown hair, he noticed gray sprinkled through the rich sable color. Hell. He hadn’t noticed those before. He’d bet good money the sudden sign of aging hadn’t been there a week ago when he’d stopped over for a family dinner—while his father had still been alive.
An unexpected rage at the collateral damage the senseless murder had spawned exploded through every cell in his body. John Kincaid’s killer hadn’t just stolen his life. The killer had left a big hole in the leadership of the Kansas City Police Department, and an even bigger hole in the hearts of the Kincaid family.
Somebody had to pay for all that.
But with the same kind of deep breath that iced his nerves before he pulled the trigger to shoot, Holden buried his anger. Instead of lashing out, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the crown of Susan’s hair. “I love you, Mom.”
She hugged the triangular folded flag tight to her chest and nodded, rubbing her cheek against his sleeve. The sniffle he heard was the only indicator of sadness she revealed. Her brown eyes were bright and shining when she looked up at him and shared a serene smile. “I love you, too, sweetie.” Then she settled in at his side, holding her chin up at a proud angle his father would have admired. “Walk me to the car?”
“You bet.”
They were all the way down to the road when a man in an expensive black suit stopped them. “Su?”
“Bill.”
Holden adjusted the umbrella to keep his mother covered as William Caldwell, his father’s best friend since their fraternity days at college, bent down to exchange a hug. The laugh lines alongside his mouth had deepened into grooves, emphasizing his silvering hair and indicating another casualty of John Kincaid’s death.
“Holden.” As Bill pulled away, he reached for Holden’s hand. “I can’t tell either of you how sad, and how angry, this makes me.” Releasing them both, he straightened his own black umbrella over his head. “I’m making a sizable donation to the KCPD Benevolence Fund in John’s name, but if there’s anything more personal I can do…anything…ever….”
Bill Caldwell ran his multinational technology company as smoothly as he’d told B.S. stories around the campfire on the many hunting and fishing trips he’d taken with the Kincaids over the years. But today he seemed to be at a loss for words.
Susan squeezed his hand, rescuing him from his overwhelming emotions. “Come to the house, Bill. We’re having an informal potluck dinner. Nothing fancy. I just want to be surrounded by everyone who loved John. I want to celebrate what a good, wonderful man he was.”
Bill squeezed back and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be there.”
Holden settled his mother into the back of the black limousine they’d ridden in to the cemetery. After tucking a blanket over her damp legs and finding a box of tissues to set beside her, he closed the door and circled the long vehicle to greet Atticus as he walked up the asphalt road. Alone.
Holden’s temper flared again. “Where the hell is Edward?” His long strides took him away from the limo. “You went to talk to him. What did he say?”
As usual, Atticus didn’t ruffle. “I talked to him. As tough as this is on us, you have to know it’s probably harder for him to be here. His wife and daughter aren’t that far from where—”
“I know he’s hurting,” Holden snapped. “But Mom wants to see him. He can’t be such a selfish son of a bitch that he’d cause her pain, can he?”
“Get off your high horse. Sawyer’s with him—bringing him around to avoid the crowd. Ed won’t let Mom down.”
“You don’t have to defend me, Atticus.” Edward and Sawyer walked out of the woods to the limo. “Got your boxers in a knot, baby brother?”
The rain whipped his face as Holden spun around. Edward’s dark hair and beard had been trimmed short—a vast improvement over the shaggy caveman look he’d sported a couple of weeks ago the last time Holden had dropped by his place to try to annoy him out of his drunken grief. Yet there was something dark and sad about his pale gray eyes that wiped away Holden’s temper.
He noted the scar cutting through Edward’s beard, and the way he seemed to lean heavily on his cane as he approached. Edward had been through more than any man should have to endure, and Holden was immediately contrite about any doubts he’d had about his oldest brother’s loyalty to the family.
“Hell.” It wasn’t much to offer in the way of sympathy, but Holden walked the distance between them and wrapped Edward up in a tight hug. “I miss you.”
At first, Edward’s shoulders stiffened at the contact. Then one arm closed around Holden’s back and squeezed with a familiar strength. But just as quickly as the bond was affirmed, Ed was pushing him away. “Get off me, kid.” He inclined his head toward the limo. “Is Mom inside?”
“Yeah.”
Edward swiped the rain from his face and looked at Holden, then beyond to Sawyer and Atticus. The four brothers hadn’t been united like this for a long time. But the unspoken sentiment between them felt as strong as ever. “This ain’t right.”
After Edward climbed into the backseat for a few minutes alone with their mother, Holden closed the door and straightened, standing guard to ensure their privacy. Sawyer rested his forearms on the roof of the limo on the opposite side, looking first to Atticus beside him, and then across the top to Holden. “We’re gonna get whoever did this, right?”
“Right,” Atticus said before turning away to scan the departing crowd and keep everyone else away from the private family meeting.
Holden took the same vow. “Amen.”
Chapter One
October
Oh God. In her sleep, Liza Parrish rolled over and tried to wake herself up. It was happening again. And she couldn’t stop it.
“Shh, baby. Shush.”
Liza closed her hand around the dog’s muzzle and hunched down closer beside him in his hiding spot in the shadowy alley. The fact that he didn’t protest the silencing touch was evidence of just how close to starvation this furry bag of skin and bones was.
He was lucky she’d come here after classes and work tonight, following up on a call to the shelter about an emaciated stray wandering the dock area that neither the county’s Animal Control Unit nor the Humane Society had been able to catch. She’d get him back to the vet’s office where she was interning—feed him a little bit of food and water, run some tests to make sure he wasn’t infected with heartworm or some other debilitating disease, give him some love and a bath, and maybe just save his life.
But who was going to save her?
She hoped the dog was the only one who could hear her heart thumping over the whoosh of the Missouri River, surging past only a few yards away.
Trying to calm herself so the dog wouldn’t panic and give away their position, Liza blinked the dampness of the foggy night from her eyelashes. If only she could blink away the stench of wet dog and old garbage just as easily. If only she could blink herself to safety.
Her leg muscles were beginning to cramp in protest against just how long she’d been curled up with the knee-high terrier mix, hiding behind the trash cans and plastic bags that smelled as if they could have been left in this alley off the river docks ever since the warehouses on either side had closed. She was tired, aching, chilled to the