Submerged

“What’s Delaney have to say, now that Tracey is dead?”

“He still won’t admit she hired him. And we haven’t found a trace of the money.”

“He’s probably got it stashed somewhere.”

“We’re still checking him out. Something tells me we’re missing the connection between Delaney and Kingston.”

Delaney and Kingston…

Marcus stared out the windshield, his eyes resting on the license plate of the vehicle in front of him. JU5T1C3—an odd combination for an Alberta plate.

He narrowed his eyes. JUST… once… three?

Then it came to him. JUSTICE.

His gaze jerked toward Rebecca’s house as the pieces slipped into place.

Walter Kingston, Wesley’s father, was a lawyer. And what did lawyers usually want? Justice.

The man was wealthy, respected and in a position of power.

Marcus redialed John’s number. Three rings and his friend picked up.

“Did you ever check out Walter Kingston?” Marcus asked.

“The lawyer?”

“Yeah. He’s Rebecca’s father-in-law.”

“We interviewed him after Mrs. Kingston was found, but he didn’t know anything about his son or the Whitaker woman’s plans. And he seemed to have a decent relationship with Mrs. Kingston. Even she said so.” Zur cleared his throat. “You think he had something to do with this?”

Marcus groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I’m probably grasping at straws here.”

“Hold on. Let me check something.”

Seconds later, Zur came back on the line. “We missed it. It was there all along, but we didn’t dig far enough.”

“What?”

“Back a few years, when Walter Kingston worked criminal law, he represented someone we both know.”

“Let me guess. Rufus Delaney.”

“The one and only.”

“Shit…” Marcus turned off the ignition.

“Listen, Marcus, as soon as I get off the phone and get a warrant, I’m going to have one of our tech guys check out his bank records.”

“You think he’s the one who paid off Delaney?”

“Tracey said someone loaned her the money. We know Wesley Kingston doesn’t have any. Daddy Kingston’s the next best thing. We’re going to send a car to Kingston’s place and pick him up.”

“He’s not there.”

“What? Where the hell is he?”

Marcus climbed out of the car and quietly closed the door. “He went into Rebecca’s house over twenty minutes ago. I’m going in.”

“No, stay where you are. In your vehicle. I’ll have cars be there with backup in less than ten minutes.”

Marcus crossed the street. “He’s in there with her now.”

“Stay in your car!”

“Sorry, John. I can’t do that. Rebecca’s in danger.”

“Wait!”

But he was no longer listening.

Tucking the cell phone into his pocket, Marcus strode up the sidewalk. At first, he figured he’d rush through the front door, but common sense kicked in. What if Walter Kingston had a gun? No. His best chance of saving Rebecca was bringing the element of surprise.

He crept up to the living room window. Lights from the kitchen and a lamp near the door illuminated the room. There was no sign of Walter Kingston. Or Rebecca.

He moved to the front door, turned the knob and let out a soft breath when it opened. Slipping into the house, he eased the door closed. Then he listened. Someone moved at the far end of the house.

With cautious footsteps, he proceeded into the house. From his previous visit, he knew the floor plan. The bedrooms were in the back. That’s where he’d find Kingston and Rebecca.

Passing through the kitchen, he spotted a pill bottle on the counter. It rested on its side, a pile of small blue pills next to it. A kettle next to both.

Shit! He’s drugged her.

As he tiptoed down the hall, Marcus caught sight of Colton’s bedroom. It was exactly like he’d last seen it, with clothing and sporting equipment spread out across the floor—including a worn-out hockey stick.

That’ll do.

He strode into the room, grabbed the stick and continued down the hall, hockey stick raised.

“What are you doing?” he heard Rebecca say from inside her bedroom.

The sounds of her slurred voice combined with running water made Marcus shiver. I’m coming, Rebecca. Hold on.

“Relax, Rebecca,” Walter Kingston replied.

Marcus muffled a curse. Then he stepped up to the bedroom door, which was cracked open an inch, and peered inside. The room was empty, but dancing shadows came from the open doorway into the en suite.

He moved swiftly into the room. He scrutinized his surroundings, desperate to find a way to catch Kingston off guard. He had to get him out of the bathroom, away from Rebecca. How?

A laptop sat on the bed, its screen glowing. Had Kingston caught her in bed checking e-mails?

Marcus approached the laptop, and when he read the document displayed, his stomach clenched. It was a suicide note. From Rebecca. Either Kingston had typed it, or he’d made Rebecca do it.

Splashing sounds came from the bathroom.

“No!” Rebecca cried. “Stop!”

Marcus spun toward the hallway, nearly knocking over the laptop. Forgetting his previous plan to lure Walter Kingston back into the bedroom, he darted toward the doorway.

What he saw made his heart stop.