Just before noon, Cora surprised Liam by marching up to his desk and placing her car keys on top. “Let’s go. Whatever’s going on with Finn, it’s not good. I can feel it in my bones. There’s no way he’d let almost twenty-four hours go by without contacting us, especially when he knows how we’ve been trying to get answers about Magnus. I can’t sit still any longer. I need todosomething.”
“Now you know how I feel.” Liam swiped the keys off his desk. “Come on.”
They arrived at Finn’s building close to noon, and Liam’s stomach churned with foreboding when there was still no sign of his car in the parking garage. He tried to tell himself Finn was probably running errands and lost his phone, or maybe he got caught up with some last-minute details at the law firm, but instinctively he knew Cora was right. They had to find Finn, and fast. Liam had only ten days left, and while Cora and Finn had grown closer as friends, they still had to be in love by the time the month ended. With the window of opportunity rapidly closing, Liam felt like he was riding the razor-sharp edge between determination and despair, and tipping toward the latter.
They took the elevator up to Finn’s penthouse and knocked for several minutes. No sounds came from within.
“Keep watch while I open it.” Liam knelt beside the locked door and pulled a set of lock picks from his pocket.
Facing the elevators down the hall, Cora glanced back at him. “When did you get that?”
“This morning,” he said, inserting the tension wrench and rake. “I found it in the lockup.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t already own a set,” Cora said dryly. “Something tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”
“Actually, it is,” Liam said. “I’ve never broken into a place with this type of lock, but it should be fairly simple. It’s a standard pin and tumbler. This particular design came around in the latter half of the nineteenth century. It’s common enough, but it’s not very secure. Most locks aren’t. They make people feel better, but it’s just an illusion of safety. Almost anyone can get past them with minimal skill and the right motivation.”
“Let me guess,” Cora said. “You know all this because you honed your lock-picking skills during your wayward youth.”
“No, something much simpler.” Liam heard the lock click and he beamed up at her. “YouTube.”
Finn’s door swung open, and they entered, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. It was cool and quiet inside, the muted shades of blue and gray on the walls lending to the peaceful atmosphere. Several empty packing boxes were stacked along the living room wall.
“Finn?” Cora called. She headed down the hall toward the bedrooms, calling his name again.
Liam searched the kitchen. There was a box on the counter half-filled with dishes, but everything else seemed undisturbed. The living room and patio were just as neat, and aside from a pile of folded laundry and a half-emptied bookshelf, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Nothing,” Cora said, coming from the back room. They switched places and continued looking, and ten minutes later came up empty-handed.
Cora blinked back tears as they left the penthouse and took the elevator to the parking garage. “I just don’t understand where he could be.”
This time, Liam didn’t stop himself from drawing her into his arms. “Don’t worry, Cora. We’ll find him.” His words rang with conviction, but dread gnawed like a trapped animal inside him, desperate to break free. He was running out of time. They all were. Even if Finn was okay, the likelihood of Liam succeeding in his task was minuscule, at best.
“We have to tell Captain Thompson we suspect Finn’s in trouble,” Cora said as they drove back to the police station.
“What do we tell him when he asks why?” Liam pulled to a stop at a red light and glanced at her. She looked so tired and sad he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Boyd’s going to demand an explanation.”
“We can’t tell him we went against his direct orders and were secretly conducting an undercover investigation with Finn’s help. That’s not going to get us anywhere but suspended,” Cora said, staring out the window. “We’ll say it’s a hunch because he’s gone radio silent. If nothing else, it will document our concern.”
“It’s only been a day,” Liam said, hoping to lift her spirits. “Finn may surprise us by showing up with a good explanation.”
Cora nodded glumly, but it was clear she didn’t think it was likely. Liam didn’t, either, but he’d been hoping for miracles ever since the angels tossed him into this new life. What was one more added to the list?
Back at the station, Boyd stared them down in his office. “Magnus Blackwell was on the Booze Dogs’ hit list, and yesterday someone from that gang finally took matters into their own hands. We need to find out who, and we need to find out now.”
“We have no proof it was the Booze Dogs, Captain,” Cora said. “It could’ve been—”
“Their stolen money was found at his lake house,” he said flatly. “Surely you, of all people, haven’t forgotten that.”
Liam saw Cora flinch at the reminder of that terrible night. He suddenly wanted to punch Boyd in the face. It was a gut reaction he sorely wished he could follow up on, but it wouldn’t do to make more trouble. Instead, he pierced Boyd with a steely glare. “You said Magnus was innocent. You ordered us to stop investigating him.”
“I said there wasno proofhe’d done the crime. He claimed he was set up, and we didn’t have enough evidence to keep him behind bars. But now he shows up dead, and that’s three people murdered in my city in less than three months.” Boyd was almost yelling now. A vein pulsed in his temple, and he visibly struggled to rein in his emotions. After a few shallow breaths, he leaned back in his chair. “Look, I’m tired. We’re all tired. The sooner we can connect these cases, and bring in the gang members responsible, the sooner we can all sleep at night. Magnus Blackwell was wrapped up in something, and all signs point to that gang. Lindsey Albright and John Brady were tangled up in it somehow, too.”
He glanced at Cora and his features suddenly softened, but Liam could tell he was forcing it. “McLeod, you’re one of my best detectives. I’m counting on you to get to the bottom of this. Can you do that?” He didn’t even acknowledge Liam, which was an obvious slight, but he wasn’t surprised. Boyd may have been his friend a lifetime ago, but he didn’t seem to like him much in this one. And as far as Liam was concerned, the feeling was mutual.
“I’ll do my best, Captain,” Cora said with a worried frown. “But there’s something more you should know. We believe Finley Walsh may be in trouble.”
Boyd’s face blanked. “Who?”