Page 62 of Mad Love

21

Maddox

“Give me what you have, Roland.”

As soon as I left the school, I booked it to Roland’s place. We’re seated at the kitchen table. Minus the stack of dishes in the sink, his modest-sized house on the east side of San Francisco is spotless, thanks in part to his OCD for cleanliness. He’s also a stickler for attention to detail.

And the devil is in the details.

“Look at these pictures carefully and tell me what you see.”

“I see a picture of Blaise with a bunch of guys in security gear carrying guns. These here”—I tap at the picture—“are naked dead guys missing their heads and their hands. How recent and what are the men’s connection to Blaise?”

I pick up the picture of Blaise and the men. She’s smiling, a vision of innocence in her school uniform. The picture must’ve been taken before her kidnapping.

“A week ago. The dead men are Lance Charon and Randall Daly, identified by their tats. They are two of three men assigned as Blaise’s bodyguards. Tobias Phelan, the third bodyguard, is unaccounted for.”

“And the others?” Three men on either side of Blaise.

“They are part of the same security detail hired on by her cousin Rylan. They are also unaccounted for.”

“Four missing men. Two dead guys.” Sounds like the punchline to a sick joke. “What’s your hunch?”

“Revenge killings. Word on the street is their deaths are mob hits.”

Heads and hands cut off, making it difficult to identify the men.

“My men and Blaise’s are attempting to track down the missing guys.”

“And the girl who lured Blaise into the alleyway, did you find her?” I set the picture of Blaise and her security team over the one of the dead men.

“No, and I doubt we will. Everyone in that neighborhood aren’t saying jack shit, Maddox. They’re scared.”

I push back my chair and rise. “Thanks, Roland. Keep me apprised. When you find the men, let me know ASAP.”

“Yeah, sure.” He walks me to the door. “There’s something else, Maddox. You were right to listen to your gut. A quarter of a million dollars was deposited into Arthur Lexington’s account the day after his brother’s death from a business I’m having a hard time locating. Toxicology reports came back negative. The autopsy report rules cause of death as a heart attack in his sleep.”

“How come you got ahold of the results before the family or the media?”

I’ll later mull over what role Blaise’s great-uncle could’ve played in having her written out of the will. Was Blaise’s loss of protection and funds worth a quarter of a million dollars? I’m betting it is, but for what reason does he need the money?

“I have someone on the inside. Don’t ask for the name or how I know this person. I won’t give it.”

I clamp my hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Loyal to the core. I understand, Roland. Follow the money’s trail. Let me know what you find.”

“Will do.”

I leave Roland’s place with more questions than answers.

* * *

Time with Blaise and my chance to ask more about her old security team are interrupted by a visitor I’d expected.

However, business is business, and I’m not happy Cillian McCabe is in my home rather than confronting me at my office or setting up a meeting at a different location that doesn’t entail making himself comfortable with my wife.

“The reclusive Blaise Lexington. It’s nice to make your acquaintance, beautiful,” he greets Blaise, taking her gloved hand in his.

Interesting that the jackass with the jet-ink hair and features as sharp as cut glass has a firm grasp on my wife’s left hand, his gaze scrutinizing the simple wedding band slipped over her ring finger.

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