Page 21 of Rules of Engagement

Chapter Six

"Why would Solomon send you a million bucks?" asked Garrett. He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead as we made our way out of the parking lot. He did a good job of looking like he was concentrating but I was pretty sure his mind was running at a million miles an hour. Mine was still stuck at a million dollars.

"I have no idea." I held the check up, examining every part of it. The date was for today and the signature was definitely his. I figured Thomas Gort must have added the date but I could only wonder what could have spooked Solomon so much a year ago that he felt compelled to write a letter and deposit a signed check with his lawyer? I was positive he never mentioned anything to me. Not then, and never in the intervening months.

"This could have something to do with what happened last night," said Garrett.

"You think he knew someone wanted to kill him?"

"Solomon must’ve thought so."

"I wish I knew what he was talking about."

Garrett darted a glance at me. "He never mentioned who his enemies were?"

"No."

"Is it work-related or personal?"

"I don't know."

"Is it an old threat or a new one?"

"I don't know."

"Could it..."

"I don't know, okay!?" I snapped. "I don't know what Solomon was thinking when he wrote that. I don't know what threats might have plagued him. I don't know if he saw someone or heard something or received something recently that spooked him. I don't know anything!"

Garrett didn't say anything. Instead, he nudged the blinker and we turned the corner. We continued moving through traffic and I stared aimlessly at the other drivers and passengers in the morning rush hour, wondering how bland their lives could be right now, and how much I wished I was living one of them. If I hadn't been in the situation I was in, I'd probably have been arriving at the agency around now, ready to dive into the mounds of paperwork. I might have picked up a bridal magazine during my lunch break or called Lily. Everything would have been so comfortably normal.

"You'll need to tell the police," said Garrett finally.

"I am telling the police," I pointed out. "I'm telling you."

"Do yourself a favor, go cash that check before you tell the detectives assigned to the case. You might need it, you know."

"You mean, you're not on the case?"

"I'm overseeing the detectives on it. I'm your brother. I can't handle it all of it directly."

"Good. I think."

"We're here," he said, turning onto my street. "I have to escort you inside and then you can pick up whatever you need. After that, I can take you back to the hospital, or help you take your stuff over to Mom and Dad's. Wherever you want to go."

"Why would I go to Mom and Dad's?"

"Don't you want to stay with them?"

"I guess I really didn't think about it. The hospital said I could stay there. Can't I just stay at home?" I asked, wondering if there was something Garret had yet to tell me.

"You can but I didn't think you'd want to." He pulled up outside and raised a hand to the police officer stationed at the door. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered across the entry. If it weren't for that, it would have looked like any other house on the street, elegant and quiet.

"Did the crime scene techs get anything?" I asked. I watched the crime scene tape fluttering and didn't make any move to get out. I needed a few minutes to steel my nerves before I could walk up the steps and cross the threshold.

"They dusted the door frame, doorbell, and the door for prints and swabbed everything for traces of fibers but I doubt we'll find any. A professional would have worn gloves. They looked for footprints too but it was a dry day and many other feet hit the stoop last night so there was nothing gathered from there."

"Do you have anything?" I asked.

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