“I wish that were the case.” The detective’s suit jacket split open as she sat in one of the leather chairs, offering Allie a glimpse of the badge she wore clipped to her waist and the gun she kept holstered at her side. She drew a deep breath through her nose. “There’s no easy way to say this, Miss Sinclair, but we’ve hit a dead end.”
Allie’s heart pounded in her chest. This couldn’t be happening. Julian wasn’t going to get away with murder. “I thought you identified the shooter?”
Green nodded. “Yes. But we can’t find anything to link him to a third party. No bank deposits, no calls or recent trips out of town.”
Then you’re not looking in the right place, she wanted to scream. But she couldn’t tell the police what she knew, not without incriminating Hudson.
“At this point all indications are he was working alone.”
“With what motive?”
“It could have been a robbery as we first suspected. But without any further information, we may never know if he was working on his own or not.”
Allie’s eyes drifted shut as she took a moment to compose herself. When she opened them, the detective was standing in front of her desk.
“There are no victories in my line of duty, Miss Sinclair; nothing I can do to bring back lost loved ones. But I work hard to try and bring them justice, and a sense of closure for their families. I’m truly sorry I haven’t been able to do that for you.”
“Thank you, Detective Green. I know you’ve dedicated a lot of time and effort to this investigation.”
“If there are any new developments, you’ll be the first to know. But for the time being, at least, the department considers this case closed.”
Allie waited until the door clicked closed, then rested her elbows on the desk and dropped her face into her hands. That fucking bastard. Without a doubt there would be no further developments. Julian had covered his tracks too well. The team Hudson had assembled was the only remaining hope. If they could find something, anything, she could use as leverage against Julian . . .
The shrill ring of a phone cut through the quiet office and Allie jumped. At first she ignored it, hoping Colin would pick up, but then she realized it was her father’s direct line. Who even had that number? Allie had certainly never given it to anyone. She reached for the handset and answered with a tentative “Hello?”
“Bonjour, Alessandra.”
Speak of the devil. Literally. Allie grit her teeth. “Julian.”
“So tense, ma cherie.” A short, harsh laugh came across the line. “What’s the matter, still chafing over your loss?”
“My what?”
“Today’s vote.” A lighter clicked near the mouthpiece of his phone. “Couldn’t quite convince them.”
How the hell did he know that so quickly?
“No matter. Once I’m in control, I would have reversed it. Terrible idea.”
“Are you spying on me?”
“Keeping an eye on my company.” He blew out a harsh breath that was undoubtedly a plume of smoke.
“It’s not yours yet,” she muttered.
“You’re losing too often to that mongrel.”
“You called to tell me I’m not winning enough battles in the boardroom?”
He snorted his derision. “I have better things to do with my time than spend it hurling insults, Alessandra. Not much sport either. As you Americans say, shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Then why did you call?
“Because your litany of failures is altering my timetable. I fear the board will oust you before they convene in March. If they appoint your former lover as the permanent CEO, he’ll never sign over his shares, no matter how wide you spread your legs.” The lascivious tone of his voice sent a cold chill down her spine. “I’m returning to Chicago on the first of the month. I want this mess resolved by the time I’m back.”
“But that’s only—”
“Eleven days. Use them wisely.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Enough of this bullshit, Hudson thought. Nick was late. Again. The sun had set and the last of the hazy orange rays reflected off the surrounding skyscrapers, making the Magnificent Mile look like a fiery planet. Which was deceptive since the chill that descended barged in like an unwelcome houseguest.
Hudson’s living room became as dark as his frame of mind when the last of the light faded. The cavernous room felt more like a cell made of glass than a luxury penthouse overlooking the urban sprawl of Chicago. A cell, a cage, a prison—all adequate terms to represent the grip Julian had on his balls; the one that had him in a constant state of revisit and revise.
He stood in front of the Art Deco bar in a black, custom-tailored Brioni tux and a motherfucking bow tie, dressed for yet another goddamn event. The silver lining of the night was that he would be in the same room as Allie. The bad news? He wasn’t going to be able to touch his own wife. But the thing that dumped his mood even further into the shitter was not being introduced as her husband. He knew the situation was only temporary, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. And to make matters worse, he was escorting a woman he could barely tolerate in a professional setting.
Hudson glanced down at the crystal decanters gleaming like jewels in the low ambient light. A stiff three fingers would go a long way toward taking the edge off of an evening with Melanie McCormick. That or ear plugs.
“Yo, Hudson.” Nick called out from the foyer. “Where ya at?”
So much for that drink. Hudson slipped the wedding band off his finger and tucked it into the breast pocket of his jacket. “In here. You’re late.”
“I couldn’t work this fucking piece of shit into anything resembling a bow. It’s like navigating a pussy; do you start from the bottom or the top? It’s different every time.”
“Nice, Nick. But the similarity lies in that it takes practice. And it’s not a piece of shit, it’s a Tom Ford.” Hudson turned and his eyes shot to . . . “What the hell is that under your arm?”
“This?” His brother had a shit-eating grin on his face as he hitched the furry creature up. “This is a Yorkie. Her name is Harley.” Nick waved the tiny dog’s paw. “Say hi to your Uncle Hudson.”
“Are you shitting me? And what kind of name is that?”
“It was Harper’s idea.”
“The name or this . . . thing?”
“Nah, the name was my idea. She needed a big name to rep her personality. The dog was Harper’s idea. She thought it would be good for me to have something to take care of.”
“A plant would have been an excellent start. Animal control doesn’t get involved if you forget to water it.”
“Yeah, but plants don’t talk to you, they just sit there.”
Hudson lifted a dark brow. “And the dog?”
“Talks in her own way.” Nick dipped his head toward the pooch. “Don’t you, pretty girl?” Harley wriggled in his arms and her little tongue flicked out, frantically licking his face.
“By pissing and crapping on the floor.”
“Don’t be such a grump, bro. She’s cute.” Nick nuzzled the puppy. “Aren’t you a cutie? Yes, you are.” The more his brother progressed with the godforsaken baby talk, the faster the little thing’s tail swished back and forth.
“For fuck’s sake, put the dog down and get over here so I can choke you with that tie for bringing that creature over to ruin my hardwood.”
“Puppy pads, dude. Kind of like diapers for the floor.” Nick put Harley down and pulled the ball that was his tie out of his pocket.