Her phone rang, pulling her from the haze of self-pity. She answered it and swallowed around the lump in her throat to find her voice.
“Where is he?” Aunt Betty asked.
“Gone.”
Chapter Seven
Ryker walkedalong the beach in a daze, trying to make sense out of what he’d heard—Richard asking Harper for Eve’s location and she’d fucking told him. Ryker rubbed at the soreness in his chest. Here he was trying to save the one woman who had contributed to Eve’s death. She might not have jabbed the knife, but she was responsible just the same.
Not even the peaceful ocean breeze could cool the heat brimming inside as the phone conversation replayed in his mind. He should have seen this coming. He should have figured out that Richard hadn’t found Eve on his own. He’d used a psychic to track down, Eve. Harper had given him the damn city. She might aswell have just drawn him a map. The picture of Eve and Ryker lying in shattered glass on her floor should have been his first clue how Richard had figured out their connection.
His sister-in-law had called him the same day she’d died. She’d said she had proof that would expose the organization and their twisted game of using psychics for their own personal gain. She was going to meet him the next day. They were going to go to the press together. Ryker hadn’t found the evidence she suggested. No memory drive had ever been found. That was one of the things that Ryker needed Harper to help him with. Damn Eve, and damn Harper.
Thinking of them both, he realized they were a lot alike. Both headstrong, both psychic, and both connected to him.
Ryker turned from his view of the ocean to head back to his car and, only then, realized he was farther down the beach than he thought. The Thin Blue Line bar was on the shore behind him. Betty was leaning against the railing with her fingers laced, watching from above.
He stood his ground as she jogged down the steps off the deck and headed in his direction. The crazy-ass woman probably already knew what had happened. What was left to say?
“You didn’t tell her the whole truth,”she said, coming to a stop in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her spiked hair was no longer pink but now blue in the sunset.
“Yeah well…what are you, a mind reader?” Unsure what this woman knew, he slipped his hands into his pockets and bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something that might have Betty shooting him on the spot.
“I don’t need to be,” she said, taking his arm and walking up toward the bar. “You know what you need?”
“To find Richard Grant.” His answer came fast and quick.
“Yeah, well…” She lifted her brow and walked up onto the back deck.
She led the way into the bar, and he stopped in his tracks.
There were four pairs of female eyes shooting daggers in his direction. The last thing he needed was Harper’s damn sisters.
“Sit,” Quinn said while gesturing to a chair. Ryker didn’t budge, earning Quinn’s evil gaze.
“I’d sit if you value your balls,” Ian said, walking up behind Ryker. “Quinn doesn’t like to be told no. She put me on my knees in two seconds flat when we first met, and I’m bigger than you.”
Ryker could see the redhead’s temper. It matched her hair. He moved to a tableand straddled a chair.
Quinn clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace like a teacher in front of a classroom of children. “When we work with law enforcement, we do a thorough background.” She glanced at Ryker. “You’d know that if you looked.” She raised a brow and continued talking. “We call references; we call the commanding officers; hell, we verify the credentials prior to the first call.” Quinn stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. “Harper found your death certificate, and she wasn’t even trying.”
He started to rise when hands clamped on both of his shoulders and pushed down. A Highlander on each side. “She’s no’ done yet, lad.”
Cara crossed the room and tossed a file onto the table. “What Quinn hasn’t told you is that we keep copious records on everyone we talk to. We not only record their calls for posterity’s sake, but we also keep track of everything from credit cards to phone records. Grant had people vouching for him. He isn’t the only player in this game.”
Becca, the quiet one of the bunch, crossed her arms over her chest. “In that file, you’ll find everything we kept, including the audio authorization from the commanding officer. You’ll find a transcript of every call and word spokenup until the last syllable.”
“I didn’t find anything on your server,” Ryker grumbled and flipped the file open to the first page. A picture of Richard Grant in a police uniform and his fake employment details were on the front page.
“We don’t keep it on our mainframe,” Cara said, clasping her hands together. “We’re well aware of our lack of security. It’s why we’re having a new system installed tomorrow.”
He scanned the documents. The call log would help him pinpoint Richard’s last location, and maybe from there, he’d be able to pick up his trail, but that meant one thing. Harper would be vulnerable. That ache in his chest twisted into a knot.
“Everyone has skeletons, Mr. Cage.” Quinn rested her hand on her belly.
True. He had plenty of both.
“Some innocent and some intentional. Did you ever stop to think that Harper is just as much a victim in this mess as was your sister-in-law?”
