Desperate Girls Read online

  She stared down at her phone. Where r u?

  Downstairs.

  Brynn glanced around. Ross and Skyler were both on the sofa with their laptops out. Erik leaned over Skyler, pointing at something on her screen. Hayes was in the hallway with Brynn, his shoulder propped against the wall as he checked his phone.

  “I’ll be across the hall,” she said.

  Hayes looked up and nodded.

  Brynn slipped out and returned to the lobby, where she found Bulldog waiting beside the fountain.

  The PI was short and stocky and proportioned like a bulldog, hence his name. He wore his usual cheap suit, no tie. Twenty years as a cop and five as a private detective had put a permanent frown on his face, but he looked especially unhappy tonight.

  “Where’s Ross?” he asked.

  “Upstairs. What are you doing here? I thought you were in Las Vegas.”

  “I’m on the red-eye out of DFW. Had to catch you before I left. It’s important.” He glanced over her shoulder. “You got a problem, buddy?”

  Brynn turned to see Erik standing behind her looking like a thundercloud. Good, she’d ticked him off.

  “Erik, I’d like you to meet John Kopek, also known as Bulldog. John’s our private investigator.”

  “I know. Otherwise, he’d be in handcuffs.” Erik looked the man over, no doubt noticing the Ruger under his jacket. He turned to Brynn. “You told Hayes you were across the hall.”

  “Bulldog stopped by to tell me something important.” She turned to him. “What’s going on?”

  At the look on his face, Brynn braced herself.

  “Michael McGowan is dead.”

  BRYNN’S STOMACH clenched. “Mick McGowan?”

  “That’s right.”

  Brynn stared at him.

  “Who’s Mick McGowan?” Erik asked.

  “The lead homicide detective who worked on the James Corby case,” Bull said. “He was found at his house this morning. Gunshot wound. Investigators are looking to see if it’s connected to Jen’s murder.”

  A woman breezed past them, looking alarmed at the word “murder.”

  Bulldog turned to Brynn. “Hey, mind if we take this upstairs? We don’t need to tell your whole building this shit.”

  Erik led the way upstairs, and Brynn was too stunned to talk. Mick McGowan. Gunshot wound. The words looped through her mind as she retraced her steps to Ross’s apartment.

  When they walked in, Ross seemed startled to see Bulldog.

  “Hey, what’s up? I thought you were in Vegas running down Perez.”

  Bull looked to Brynn, in case she wanted to break the news. She didn’t.

  “Mick McGowan is dead,” Bull said.

  “What?”

  “He was shot in his home,” Brynn added.

  Bull sat down on an ottoman near Ross. Brynn took a seat on the sofa beside him while Erik remained standing.

  “What the hell happened?” Ross asked.

  “You remember Max Gorman with the Sheridan Heights Police Department,” Bull said. “He’s the lead on Jen’s case.”

  Brynn nodded. “I talked to him last night.” Had it really only been last night?

  “Mick’s been retired two years now,” Bull continued. “Gorman stopped by Mick’s place to talk to him about Corby. Found him in his kitchen.”

  Ross shook his head. “How—”

  “Shot dead with his own gun,” Bull told him.

  “When?”

  “The ME’s guy said it looks like he’s been dead a few days. The body’s in bad shape.”

  “His own gun.” Brynn tried to get her mind around the idea. “So you’re saying—”

  “They’re thinking Corby broke in, got hold of the gun, then got the drop on Mick somehow. Shot him in the head right there in his kitchen, then went over to Jen’s place.”

  Brynn looked at Erik, who seemed impossibly calm in the wake of this news. He was watching Brynn’s reaction, but he shifted his attention to Bulldog.

  “Any ballistics to confirm this?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Bull said. “But Mick’s gun is missing. So is his vehicle. A white Dodge pickup.”

  Brynn let out a laugh, which was completely inappropriate for the moment. “Oh my God, still ? That thing’s older than dirt!”

  Bulldog looked at her warily. “It’s a ninety-five.” He glanced at Erik. “So you guys keep your eyes peeled for the truck. There’s a BOLO out on it already.”

  “You tell Reggie about all this?” Ross asked.

  “Talked to him on my way here.”

  Silence settled over the group. A hundred questions swirled through Brynn’s mind, but she couldn’t focus on any of them as she pictured the veteran police detective she’d worked with on so many cases dead on his kitchen floor.

  Mick had white hair and an easygoing smile. He was a widower. And a grandfather. And a Cowboys fan. Brynn pinched the bridge of her nose as the details flooded back.

  Bulldog stood up and checked his watch. “I need to get to the airport. But I wanted to tell you.”

  Brynn and Ross got to their feet.

  “Thanks for coming by,” she said.

  “Yeah, no problem.” He shot a look at Erik, then turned to Brynn and Ross. “You two watch your backs.”

  Erik found her in her kitchen with Hayes. He was leaning back against the sink, drinking Gatorade as Brynn crouched inside the pantry.

  She stood up with a bottle of wine in her hand. She set it on the counter, then pulled open a drawer and took out a corkscrew.

  “Get you anything?” she asked Erik.

  “No.” He looked at Hayes. “She fill you in?”

  “Yeah. I was about to call Liam and give him the update.”

  “Good plan.”

  Hayes walked out, and Erik turned to Brynn. “You okay?”

  “Fine, why?” She opened a cabinet and took out a wineglass. “I mean, here I am standing in my kitchen without a bullet in my brain. I’m doing great.”

  She filled her glass. It was white wine, and it probably would have been better chilled. But she didn’t seem to care as she took a sip.

  “John Kopek is on our list,” Erik said. “But we didn’t know about his concealed-carry permit, and we definitely didn’t know he was stopping by here tonight. He should have called first.”

  “Next time he drops by to tell me someone I know’s been murdered, I’ll be sure to remind him of the procedure.”

  “That’s not the point. If he can get in, so can someone else.” Which was Erik’s problem, not hers. He needed to talk to Jeremy.

  Brynn was far from fine, and she looked like she wanted to talk.

  “Is there anyone you want to call right now? Maybe your sister or—”

  “God, no. She’d freak.” She set the wine on the counter, then combed her hands through her hair. “I can’t believe this. It’s like . . . like he’s going down a hit list.”

  She was right. And it was very possible her name was on it, along with Ross’s.

  “I can’t believe this,” she repeated. “Really, I mean, I thought Reggie was wrong.” She looked up at him, wide-eyed and in shock.

  Erik stepped closer. “I know you’re upset.”

  “Upset? I’m beyond upset. I’m . . . I don’t even have words for what I am right now.”

  “Brynn, listen to me.” He waited for her to look at him. “There was some good news mixed in there, too.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “We have a vehicle now. That’s an important lead. The marshals will be all over that, along with every other badge in the state. They’ll track him down, I promise you.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “Because that’s what they do. And they’re the best in the world.”

  He watched her, battling the urge to wrap his arms around her because she looked so vulnerable standing there staring at him like he was crazy.

  The other good thing that had come from all this? She took him seriou
sly now. This threat to her life—and it was a very real threat—had her full attention. Which meant he was going to get her cooperation.

  He wanted her trust, too, but that was another matter. Trust would come later. And he was going to have to earn it.

  “I guess Reggie was right. You, him”—she nodded toward Hayes on the phone in the living room—“Skyler. We really do need all of you.”

  Erik nodded.

  She closed her eyes. “This is unreal.” She let out another laugh that was totally at odds with the situation. It seemed to be her reaction to stress. “You know what else is unreal? I have to be in court in a few hours. What the hell am I thinking?” She picked up her glass and dumped the rest of her wine down the sink. “I need to go to bed.” She looked at him. “Will you be here a while longer?”

  She asked it casually, but he saw the tension in her face.

  “Until midnight.”

  “Great. Thank you. Well, I’m going to turn in, so . . . get some rest.” She gave him a fake smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She walked out, and he watched her disappear into her bedroom.

  Erik muttered a curse and scrubbed his hands over his face. This job sucked, and he was only one day in.

  And it was going to get worse before it got better.

  A brief knock came at the front door, and Jeremy stepped inside, pocketing his key.

  “Hey, Skyler needs to talk to you,” Jeremy told him.

  Erik darted a look down the hallway. “Brynn went to bed. You got this covered?”

  “Yes.”

  Erik hesitated a moment before heading across the hall. Ross was in the kitchen now, standing in front of the open refrigerator with a blank look on his face. He seemed to be in shock. Erik found Skyler in the spare bedroom, where they’d set up a computer and printer, along with several monitors for their surveillance cameras. Skyler sat at the desk, frowning at the screen as she fast-forwarded through video footage.

  “How’d he get in here?” Erik asked, referring to the PI.

  “Still working on it.” She grabbed a stack of papers off the desk. “Check it out. The marshals just sent these.”

  Erik thumbed through the pages, which showed the possible faces of escaped convict James Corby. Beard, no beard, goatee, no goatee, mustache, long hair, short hair, no hair. With his average build and unremarkable facial features, Corby was the sort of guy who could blend into a crowd. Erik muttered a curse.

  “I know, right?” Skyler glanced at him. “Could be anyone.”

  He flipped through again, pausing on the shaved-head picture with the goatee. Before his escape, Corby was wearing his hair short but not shaved. After his escape, maybe he’d shaved it for a quick disguise.

  “So how’s the client?”

  He glanced up. “Fine.”

  “She’s attractive.”

  “And?” Erik returned his attention to the paperwork.

  “She seems to like you, I couldn’t help but notice.”

  “Actually, she thinks we’re a pain in the ass.”

  “Not us. You.”

  He flipped through the pages again. Skyler loved to tease him about being aloof with women. Clients sometimes flirted with him, but he never went there. It was one reason Liam had trusted him with this particular job.

  “Of course, maybe I’m imagining it,” she said. “Could be she’s got a thing with her boss. The man’s spending a fortune on her security.”

  Erik didn’t react. The thought had crossed his mind, even though the guy was old enough to be her father. No way he was immune to her. The man would have to be dead.

  “On the other hand,” Skyler continued, “he’s paying for Ross, too, so maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Reggie Gunn strikes me as a businessman, so could be he’s just protecting his investment.”

  Erik looked up. “Is there a point to this?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Just giving you a hard time. And reminding you to keep your eye on the ball.” Her look turned serious. “I heard about Otto’s. How bad was it?”

  “Minor.”

  “Hayes said Brynn was pissed.”

  “She’ll get over it.” Erik held up the stack of papers. “We need to show these to her and Ross. They need to memorize these faces. We all do.”

  “That’s why I made copies. Those are yours.”

  He folded the papers and tucked them into his back pocket. “And my eye is on the ball, Sky, but thanks for the advice.”

  “Anytime.”

  BRYNN WAS dressed for battle.

  She slipped on the jacket of her favorite Armani suit, midnight blue. The silk lining was like a whisper against her skin. Whenever she wore Armani, she felt wealthy and successful but also a touch guilty. She adjusted the jacket and then slid her feet into Louboutin pumps that cost more than the weekly paycheck her mother had used to raise two girls.

  Mary Holloran had spent thirty-two years at a Houston law firm, starting as a receptionist and retiring as the legal secretary to the firm’s senior partner. Brynn had worked in the soaring glass building as a temp in the summers and learned all the most important things about being a lawyer. Her mom taught her how to be cool under pressure and handle calls from assholes and deal with handsy men. She also taught her how to look good on a shoestring budget. Brynn remembered nights up late in their little apartment, watching her mother fix runs in her panty hose with nail polish and color her roots with Nice’n Easy.

  Brynn leaned toward the mirror and smoothed Chanel lipstick over her mouth. She’d come a long way. She didn’t wear panty hose, but spike heels that made her legs look miles long and the amount she paid to have her hair done would leave her mother speechless. But Brynn gladly shelled out the money. She knew the importance of not just looking good but feeling strong. Confidence was everything, especially in a courtroom and especially on day one.

  Brynn checked her watch. She took a last slug of coffee and grabbed her leather attaché case. She rode the elevator down with Hayes, who wore a dark gray suit. The Tahoe was waiting, and Trent—also in a suit—opened the door for her, looking remarkably alert for a man who hadn’t slept last night.

  Brynn had barely slept, too. She’d been up most of the night, tossing and turning and thinking of Mick McGowan.

  “Where’s Ross?” Brynn asked as Trent got behind the wheel and Hayes took the shotgun seat.

  “They just left,” Hayes said.

  “And Erik?”

  “At the courthouse with Joe.”

  Who’s Joe? she wanted to ask. But she couldn’t worry herself with the security details—she had her hands full with the case.

  Trent eased into downtown traffic, and Brynn spotted Ross’s SUV several stoplights ahead.

  She nestled her attaché case beside her. The accessory served the dual purpose of toning down her stilettos and making her look prepared. Which she was. She knew all the evidence inside out. She knew every deposition inside out. She knew her case strategy inside out, starting with voir dire. The only wild card, at this point, was Robert Perez, her missing witness. She was putting her faith in Bulldog. He’d sworn he’d take care of it, and he’d never let her down.

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax as Trent navigated the morning rush hour. She stared through the tinted window, feeling more disconnected from the city than usual. Whenever she came here, she always felt like a visitor, and she knew she wouldn’t feel at home until she stepped into the courtroom.

  The bright green foliage of the park across from the courthouse came into view. She recognized the shiny silver Airstream, where a long line of people stood waiting for breakfast tacos.

  Several news vans were parked nearby, and a police unit was stationed at the corner. Brynn’s nerves fluttered as she spotted Jack Conlon on the courthouse steps. The assistant district attorney was surrounded by a scrum of reporters, and they moved with him en masse as he made his way up.

  “Damn it, Jack.” She gripped her briefcase.


  Up ahead, Ross’s driver put on his turn signal.

  “Where are they going?” Brynn leaned forward.

  “Around back,” Hayes said. “Erik’s arranged for us to drop you guys off in the prisoner bay.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s a concealed entry point.”

  “Stop the car.”

  Trent glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

  “I don’t want a concealed entry point.”

  He ignored her and started turning.

  “Stop, God damn it, or I’m jumping out!” She clutched the door handle, and Hayes reached back.

  “Ma’am, you can’t—”

  Brynn shoved open her door. Trent screeched to a halt. Horns blared as she jumped out, followed by Hayes.

  “This way,” she told him, dashing across the street just in time to miss a speeding car.

  “Wait!” Hayes yelled.

  She paused, looking up the steps to see Conlon enter the courthouse. Hayes caught up to her, darting his gaze around as he adjusted his earpiece.

  “Let’s go.” She hurried up the steps, her attention focused on the doors ahead of her. She passed through a pair of tall columns.

  “Ms. Holloran!”

  Finally.

  She pretended not to hear the voice as she reached for the door handle.

  “Brynn!”

  She stopped and turned around. A reporter rushed up to her. She didn’t recognize him, but he was trailed by a cameraman.

  “Ms. Holloran, have you talked to your client this morning? How is he feeling?”

  “Justin and I spoke earlier,” she replied. “He’s relieved to finally have his day in court.”

  Another reporter joined them, and Brynn guided them out of the traffic flow.

  “Conlon says your client gunned down Seth Moore in cold blood and that he intends to get justice for this heinous crime. Would you care to comment?” The reporter tipped his microphone toward her.

  She smiled. “I have no comment other than to thank people for their outpouring of support. It means a lot to Justin and his family.”

  She reached for the door, but Hayes beat her to it and managed to stay close behind her as she walked through.

  The courthouse was cool and dim compared with outside. As Brynn’s eyes adjusted, she glanced around and noted the long line at the walk-through metal detector.