Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard #12)

Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard #12) Page 3

“Regan will be back in an hour,” he said. “I’ll have her call you just as soon as—”

“No,” she blurted. “If I talk to her now, I’ll fall apart, and I have a houseful of people . . . and casseroles. Oh God, there are so many casseroles. Will you call Sophie for me? Please.”

“Yes, of course I will,” he said. “What else can I do?”

“That’s all for now.”

“Regan and I are going to help you get through this. We’ll be on the next flight out of here.”

After ending the call, she went to her bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. There was so much to do before she could sit down and take a breath. She descended the stairs and immediately was surrounded by a throng of sympathetic faces. Cordie realized all the offers of help were given with good intentions, and she appreciated each and every one of them, but there were some things she needed to do alone. She had a three o’clock appointment at the funeral home. She eased her way through the crowd so that she could sneak out the back door without anyone noticing or insisting on accompanying her.

To her surprise she found that her father had already taken care of all the arrangements. He’d left precise instructions. He wanted the funeral Mass to take place at St. Matthew’s Catholic Church, which was just across the parking lot from the high school where she taught. Some of her father’s older friends were going to balk at driving into what they considered a dangerous area of the city, and she would understand if they didn’t attend. Nevertheless, she would honor all her father’s wishes, even if no one showed up.

She navigated the rest of the day in a fog. She must have listened to a hundred wonderful stories about her father, but after a while they all blended together. His loyal friends had already sainted him.

The box she’d brought home from the bank was on a shelf in her closet. She had every intention of going through it tonight, but by the time she went upstairs, she was so weary she could barely focus. She dressed for bed and slipped under the covers, the sad faces and words of condolence swimming in her head, and she fell asleep knowing that in the morning the ritual would start all over again.

         • • •

Cordie was in the living room picking up glasses and putting them on a tray to carry to the kitchen when the front door opened and Sophie and Jack MacAlister walked in. The second Sophie saw her, she started to cry. Cordie put the glasses down and went to her.

As she hugged each of them, she said, “Thank you so much for coming.” She realized what she had just said to her dearest friends and shook her head. “I’ve been saying those words since yesterday morning to everyone who stopped by. I meant to say, ‘Thank God you’re here.’”

Jack put his arm around her and suggested they go somewhere quiet to talk.

“How about the study?” Cordie suggested. She didn’t know if there were people in there or not. She grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on the table, handed them to Sophie, and led the way.

One of her advisors in the science department at the university put his hand on her arm to stop her. He was a gregarious man with a rich baritone voice.

“We’re going to take off now,” he said. “But I was wondering . . .”

“Yes?”

“Did your father know?”

She understood what he was referring to. “No, I had only just found out.”

“Found out what?” Sophie asked.

Cordie remembered her manners and introduced the professor and his wife to her friends. The professor answered Sophie’s question.

“Cordie’s dissertation was approved. She’s now a PhD in biochemistry. Her thesis was groundbreaking. As young as Cordie is, to have accomplished such an impressive feat is quite remarkable.”

Cordie wasn’t comfortable with compliments because she never knew what to say, and so she quickly changed the subject. A few minutes later she walked the professor and his wife to the door, thanked them again for coming, and then went to join Jack and Sophie in the study.

Jack pushed the door closed behind her.

“You look tired, Cordie,” Sophie said as she took a seat in the overstuffed leather chair by the window. Jack joined her, sitting next to her on the chair’s arm.

Cordie couldn’t relax. She leaned against the desk, folded her arms, and took a deep breath. “Tired?” she scoffed. “You’re being kind. I look like hell.” She wasn’t exaggerating. The last time she’d passed a mirror she was shocked to see how pale her complexion was, and the dark circles under her eyes looked as though she’d drawn them there with charcoal.

“Tell me about your dad,” Sophie said. “Were you with him when he had the heart attack?”

“No,” Cordie answered. She explained what had happened.

By the time she was finished, Sophie was on her second tissue, dabbing the tears from her eyes. “Did he suffer? He didn’t, did he?”

“No, he didn’t,” Cordie assured her. “The doctors gave him medication to take care of the pain. I sat with him, and I would have known if he had any discomfort.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Sophie whispered.

“It’s okay. You’re here now.”

“I loved your dad.”

“I know you did. He loved you, too.”

“What needs to be done?” Jack asked. “Put us to work.”

One of the neighbors knocked on the door and looked in. “Cordie, the priest is here to talk to you about the funeral Mass, and there are two policemen at the door. They’re wanting something done about the cars blocking the street.”

“I’ll talk to the police,” Jack said, and headed out the door.

Sophie smiled as she watched him leave. “It’s nice to have an FBI agent for a husband. Certainly comes in handy sometimes.” Standing, she removed her sweater and draped it across the back of the chair. “How about I go in the kitchen and help while you bring the priest in here and talk,” she suggested. The look on Cordie’s face made her laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t cook. I’ll wash dishes or something.”

The last time Sophie made pasta in Cordie’s kitchen it took an hour to get the gummy noodles off the burners. The food was actually pretty good, but the entire kitchen was a mess.

Cordie didn’t have another minute alone with her friends the rest of the day. It was heartwarming that so many people wanted to pay their respects and talk about their friendship with her father, and she felt the least she could do was give each of them her time and attention.

By nine o’clock that evening, the last of the guests had left. Sophie and Cordie were sitting at the kitchen table, and Jack, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was washing the pans in the sink when Regan and her husband, Alec, arrived.

Alec looked rested, but then he could sleep anywhere, according to Regan. He had slept all the way from London to Chicago. Regan, on the other hand, looked wiped out.

“You’ve had a long trip,” Cordie said. “You should go home to bed.”

Regan shook her head. “I’m fine, and we won’t stay long. I just wanted to see you, to make sure you’re okay.”

Alec wrapped his arm around Regan and pulled her into his side. Cordie watched her lean into him. The way they looked at each other was so sweet, so loving. It was the same way Jack looked at Sophie. Her best friends had found their soul mates, and she was truly happy for them.

It was amazing, she thought, how fate worked in such mysterious ways when it came to love. Alec Buchanan had come into Regan’s life under the most unexpected circumstances. Regan had become the target of a madman, and it was Alec, a Chicago detective, who was given the responsibility of protecting her. By the time the traumatic event was over, the two knew they were meant to be together. In a short time, they married and moved away so that Alec could join the FBI. Cordie and Sophie missed their friend terribly, and when they got the news that Alec would be assigned to two offices, Chicago and Boston, they were ecstatic. The trio would be back together again. Fate wasn’t through with them yet, however. The moment Regan met Alec’s new Chicago partner, Agent Jack MacAlister, she knew he would be a match for her vivacious friend Sophie. And she was right. They were crazy about each other.

Her friends had found true and lasting love, and up until the night her father died Cordie believed she, too, could have happily ever after with the man of her dreams, but no longer. She had been a fool long enough. It was time to grow up.

“When is Aiden getting in?” Alec asked Cordie. “Did he say?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.”

“You didn’t call Aiden?” Regan looked dumbfounded.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t call any of your brothers.”

Alec was frowning at her, and Cordie understood why. Whenever there was anything going on, good or bad, Cordie always insisted on including Aiden. Had her foolish crush been that transparent? Apparently so, she thought.

She decided to turn their attention. “Are you hungry? There’s all sorts of food in the refrigerator.”

“I could eat,” Alec replied.

“Me, too,” Jack said as he dried the last pan and set it on the counter.

Cordie went to the refrigerator and started bringing out covered dishes, but Alec took them from her and turned her toward the living room. “We’ll take care of this. Why don’t you three go sit down and talk?”

Grateful for the suggestion, Cordie headed to the sofa, dropped down in the center, and put her feet up on the ottoman. Sophie sat on her right and linked her arm in Cordie’s, and Regan sat on her left with her arm around Cordie’s shoulder. The three friends couldn’t be more different—acquaintances usually categorized Sophie as the uninhibited one, Regan as the sensitive one, and Cordie as the scholarly and practical one—yet when they were together, they were an unshakable unit.

“Tell me something happy,” Cordie said. “How was Bermuda, Sophie?”

For the next few minutes, Sophie gave her friends a very romantic account of white-sand beaches and warm tropical nights with Jack, listening to the sound of the surf under a starlit sky. When it was her turn, Regan told them all about London. She and Alec had been involved in projects to help at-risk youth in Chicago for a couple of years and were attending a conference in England with representatives from several European countries with similar goals. Her excitement was obvious as she talked about the success of the conference and the new ideas that were shared.

No matter how hard Cordie tried to keep the subjects light and upbeat, the conversation eventually turned to her father.

“Do you realize how remarkable he was?” Sophie asked. “When you were a baby, he was a mechanic, and when he died, he had just sold Kane Automotive for millions of dollars.”

“From one little shop to more than twelve hundred across the country,” Regan added. “Your dad was amazing.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Did he know you were with him?” Regan asked. Tears were already flooding her eyes. “In the hospital . . . did he know?”

“Yes, he knew. We talked for a little while, and then he drifted off and was gone. It was very peaceful.”

“What did you talk about?” Regan asked.

Cordie didn’t want to cry, and so she made light of the question. “He told me where all the bodies were buried.”

Regan wasn’t amused. “That’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is,” Sophie said, smiling. “Your dad was such a stickler for the rules. I’ll bet he never got so much as a speeding ticket in all the years I knew him.”

“That’s true,” Cordie agreed.

“So no surprises?”

Cordie paused and took a breath before answering. “Just one.”

THREE

Aiden Hamilton Madison didn’t suffer fools easily, and after spending twenty minutes with Lester Chambers, he had had enough, but his brother Spencer had dragged him into this deal and was really pushing it. For that reason Aiden held his patience as long as he could.

Lester Chambers and his cousin, Congressman Mitchell Ray Chambers, had inherited Rock Point, a pristine piece of Oregon land overlooking the ocean, and after lengthy negotiations had agreed to sell the property to the Hamilton Hotel chain for quite a tidy sum. Aiden and his brothers planned to build another one of their exclusive resorts on the site.

There was another property available about 250 miles south of Rock Point, and Aiden much preferred that area of coastline. As CEO of Hamilton Hotels, he made most business decisions, but he’d agreed to let his brother, a partner in the company, make the choice this time. Both Lester and his cousin had verbally agreed to all the terms. Aiden had the papers drawn up, and as far as he was concerned, the deal was done.

The hotel was going to be a godsend to the economically depressed area, and perhaps that was why Spencer had pushed so hard. Word had already spread that the acclaimed five-star hotel was going to be built near the small, struggling community of Fallsborough, and men and women desperate for work were once again hopeful about the future. Spencer wanted to expand, and this property was slated to become an all-inclusive resort, a luxurious retreat where the stressed-out could go to decompress.

The brothers flew to Fallsborough in one of the company jets. The tiny airfield was in dire need of resurfacing, but Aiden would let Spencer deal with that issue once construction was under way.

A car was waiting for them. It was cold and windy and damp, but neither brother wore a topcoat. On the way to Lester’s office, Spencer suggested a bet. Aiden hadn’t met Lester or his cousin, but Spencer had. He told Aiden exactly how Lester would introduce his cousin. Aiden took the bet, certain his brother was exaggerating.

When the brothers walked into the lobby of the building where Lester had offices, they were all but ambushed by the local news. A reporter, microphone in hand, and a cameraman a few feet behind chased Aiden to the elevators.

The reporter was a young woman named Kalie. “Is it true?” she asked, stretching her arm so that the microphone was close to Aiden’s face.

“Is what true?” he asked.

“You’re Aiden Hamilton Madison, aren’t you? And standing next to you is Spencer Madison.”

Aiden smiled. “Yes, that’s true.”

She was very nervous. The microphone was shaking. “No, I mean is it true that the Hamilton Hotel is coming here? That you’re going to build on Rock Point?”