Page 41 of Wicked Games

“How did he know to look for it there?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Somehow he just knew. It would only take a little common sense to come to that kind of conclusion.”

My hands are trembling and I hold on to Seth’s wrists to steady them. “Or maybe he knew it was there because someone told him.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Seth

Itoss and turn all night.

Someone told that fucking bastard the tracker was sewn into the lining of the bag. I didn’t think of it because I was sure that even if we were targeted, the fuckers weren’t personally connected to us. But if what Avery said is true and someone tipped them off, Theo’s kidnapping was an inside job.

Christ.

I drag myself out of bed, dress, and go for a run. I need to blow off steam. A lot of it.

Who knew the cops sewed that GPS device into the bag? Brooke was there the two days we waited for the assholes to call, and looking back, it must have killed her to be away from Vale while that was happening. Marcy was there, but I have trouble pinning this on her. We hired her when Theo was six weeks old and she was like a member of our family.

My feet pound the pavement, angry strides that eat up the miles.

Someone planned this, and I know who they are.

There were several cops in and out of our house and they knew we were going to hide that tracker hoping to chase him down once Theo was safe. Any one of them could have leaked the information, but that meant they had to have been in on it from the beginning. Either a cop or two helped plan it, or those dirty pigs were getting a kickback for tipping those fuckers off.

I turn around at the beach and head back to the house.

Avery might have sparked something, but in the end, it doesn’t do much. I can talk to LaSalle and ask if he thinks a leak in the police department is possible, but if he agrees, then what? An investigation of every cop on the force?

I doubt Internal Affairs could take on something like that successfully. Cops know how to cover their tracks—their entire job is to find people who cover theirs.

When I get back, I shower and make a pot of coffee. Sipping at the first couple of inches, I look over at Avery’s house, but I don’t see her moving around. I should’ve planned to do something with her today, but I don’t want to be a needy jerk. I practically told her I wanted to marry her, but she’s not going to believe that if we keep talking about Brooke and how much her seeing Vale behind my back hurt me.

Our relationship should be a summer fling, but my throat burns when I think about it. The thought of not seeing her again after the summer’s over hurts almost as much as knowing I’ll never watch Theo grow up. Never coach his Little League team, never bring him to swim lessons. I can hear Brooke now, “You wouldn’t have anyway,” and I wince. I thought I spent as much time with him as any dad spends with their kids, but once again I’m looking back and things are clearer now than when I was living it.

I’m about to turn from the window but then Avery steps onto her patio holding a cup of coffee and her notebook. Next door, Winnie yips in excitement and runs across the grass. Avery sets her mug aside, sits down on the floor and holds out her hands, and the dog jumps into her lap and licks all over her face. I can hear Avery’s laughter through the glass and smile. Winnie hops onto a patio couch like she’s done it before, and Avery sits next to her, picks up her notebook, and flips to a page in the middle. I like the look of them, and I watch for a minute more.

I asked her to marry me. It’s too soon to be thinking like that, but it feels right and my gut’s never been wrong. Well, it usually isn’t. I should have known how Brooke was feeling and I had no idea right up until the end.

My cell phone rings and I walk swiftly to the island. LaSalle’s name glows on the screen. Good. I was going to call him but now we won’t have to play phone tag all day.

“This is Lockwood. Was Theo’s kidnapping an inside job?” I ask, not letting him even say good morning.

LaSalle pauses, maybe in surprise, and he asks carefully, “Why do you think that?”

I tell him what Avery and I talked about last night, how we think that bastard knew the tracker was in the bag from day one.

Every part of my body vibrates with anger. LaSalle should have already thought of that. I glance out the French doors at Avery. She’s still sitting on her patio writing, her feet propped up on a chair in front of her. She pauses and sips her coffee. I wonder what she’s writing about today.

“I’m not sure what to think,” he finally says, “but let me run this by you and see if it changes your mind.”

“What?”

“Some evidence has come into our possession that the gun that killed Theo was used in another homicide a week after his death. The bullet was recently discovered in an alley in north Ashfield and ballistics confirmed it.”

That doesn’t sound like anything to me. “So what? The gun belonged to a gang leader. All that tells me is that whoever shot Theo was a fucking stupid moron for not getting rid of it when he had the chance.”

“That’s true, but it’s also interesting to note that the victim of the homicide was Harriet Maitland.”