Page 6 of Desperate Creed

“Jason makes the dogs sound like characters in a book,” Brodie explained.

She loved to read. Called it her daily therapy. It made sense, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it.

“That’s a great idea,” Creed told Jason.

It was a great idea. And yet, he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him that the two of them were spending time together. Maybe he was just being too protective. Probably. And yet, there was a knot of concern in his stomach.

4

Chicago

August Braxton had gained a reputation for taking care of messes. He had planned thoroughly for this operation, trailing both targets for days. In The District he was known for his attention to detail and his ability to eliminate any risk factors. How could he have missed seeing that Tyler Gates was on his phone? Not just on his phone, but video-chatting.

He couldn’t even blame Rex for this one. Although the big lug shouldn’t have picked up the phone and shown himself. His curiosity too often led to mistakes. As a result, they now had another mess to clean up.

Fortunately, Gates paid attention to detail as well. Not only did he have a photo of Francine Russo in his contacts alongside her phone number, but also, her email address and the connection to her Facebook page. A good thing, because Rex said the woman had a towel on her head. Even when he took a close look at the thumbnail photo of her, he shook his head and shrugged.

It didn’t matter. Within seconds, Braxton had HQ track down the home address of Francine Russo. It was still early. They’d be able to pay her a visit before she left for work. They’d get this minor inconvenience taken care of and be done.

Now, as they approached Russo’s apartment building, Braxton kept his eyes scanning for cops. Surely, she called 911. But would they have already come to take her statement? At the most, they’d send a black and white.

Chicago was not Braxton’s town, but he knew enough to believe the cops had more to concern themselves with than to drive on over and take a hysterical woman’s statement. Maybe she could describe Rex, but there was no way to ID him. And if she knew exactly where Gates was when he called her, the cops would send a unit to the street location. A possible murder scene would be their priority.

By the time Braxton and Rex made their way through the lobby and to the elevator, HQ had provided Braxton with a second photo of Francine Russo. It was a professional headshot, taken from the advertising agency’s website, confirming that she and Tyler Gates worked together.

Interesting, he thought. Do co-workers video-chat with each other at five o’clock in the morning? She had to be more than a co-worker. She had to know something. The fact that Gates called her almost immediately after leaving his friend’s place, led Braxton to presume Russo knew what Gates and Kaye were up to. Perhaps she was a part of it. Again, he wondered how he’d missed her as a piece of this puzzle.

Her apartment building was nice, but as a senior account rep—that’s how she was listed on the agency’s website—she evidently didn’t make enough money to afford a place with a doorman or a secured entry. The elevator was easily accessible. No floor was off limits.

Braxton straightened his tie and gestured for Rex to do the same. They had peeled off the jogging suits and already discarded them along with any blood from either victim. All the while he kept thinking this would be easy. He hated to have a hitch in his plans, but they would simply take care of it. And that would be that.

They stepped off the elevator, and he was pleased to see there were only four units per floor. He gestured for Rex to stand aside and out of sight when Braxton knocked on the door. Russo had, most likely, seen Rex, but Braxton was certain she hadn’t seen him.

He turned his head, giving the peephole his best profile. Long ago, he had perfected the appearance of someone in authority. It was all about attitude. Usually he was so successful people didn’t ask for an I.D. Even then, they rarely gave a second look at the credentials he flipped at them.

But when the door opened, Braxton had to hold back his surprise. Instead of Francine Russo, a sleepy-eyed man stood in front of him. He was middle-aged with tousled dark hair. His T-shirt showed he was in good shape. A bristled jaw and a coffee cup in one hand, suggested he’d been up for only a short time.

“Yeah, what?”

A tough guy. Or so he thought.

Braxton flicked his eyes to the number on the door though he doubted he’d gotten this wrong.

“I need to talk to Francine Russo,” he told the man.

“She doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Are you sure about that? I have this as her address.”

“Yeah, well, she moved out at the beginning of the week.”

“I still need to talk to her. What’s her new address?”

“Beats me.”

“Excuse me? I don’t think you understand how important it is that I speak with her.”

“Who did you say you were?” Now the man’s eyes flicked to the side and he saw Rex. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”