Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,56
down Ridley would merely be a bonus.”
That. That second point was the difference between Blackwood and Sirius in a nutshell. Black would play dirty and do a hatchet job on a person’s reputation if it suited his cause. That wasn’t to say he had no principles whatsoever—Alaric couldn’t imagine him taking money to, say, bump off somebody’s business rival—but he didn’t mind collateral damage in the pursuit of a higher goal. In this case, Alaric happened to agree that Eric Ridley was a problem, but he liked to think his moral compass pointed in the right direction most of the time. That was why he’d left the CIA, after all—it had become clear that their ultimate destinations were on different bearings.
At Sirius, they’d vowed to seek out the truth, then let the chips fall where they may.
Emmy didn’t seem bothered by her husband’s ethics. She was sitting on the floor petting the dog, who lay on its back with its legs waving in the air.
“I ordered takeout,” she told Black. “Sushi and salad for you, pizza for all the regular people.”
“What about dessert?” Dan asked.
“Cookie dough ice cream.”
“I love you.”
Beth had been rummaging in the fridge, but when she came back with a bottle of Coke, Emmy waved her away. Emmy’s diet had always amused Alaric. She refused to touch soda, but she’d live on cheeseburgers if she could, and on a night out, she’d quite happily pour shot after vile shot down her throat.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Beth asked as she topped off Alaric’s glass.
“We’ve got a dozen houses left to cover, mostly people who were out the first time we called. Then I’ll defer to Dan.”
Dan rubbed the black circles under her eyes. “Honestly? I’m not sure where to go next. If Piper’s disappearance was more recent, I’d suggest hiking with a cadaver dog, but so much time has passed… The LA office is checking locally, just in case Piper really did embark on a music career.”
“What about Kyla?” Black asked. “Where was she on the day Piper disappeared?”
“I’ve been treading softly so we don’t tip her off that we’re digging into the case, but the owner of the beauty salon remembers seeing her. Back then, she was a nail technician working for the previous owner, and Kyla and Piper were both booked in for a manicure after school that afternoon. Kyla turned up on her own. Said Piper wasn’t feeling well and she’d rebook if there were any open appointments the next day, but the lady never heard from her.”
“Was Kyla at school that day?”
“I haven’t found anyone who remembers either way.”
“How about unusual movements? Disturbed earth? Trespassers?”
“There’s nothing.”
“There’s something. We just have to find it. I’ll come with you tomorrow.”
“What am I doing tomorrow?” Emmy asked.
“Running off pizza.”
Alaric’s phone rang before Emmy could come up with a retort. Judd was calling via video link. Alaric retreated to the living room as the crunch of gravel heralded the arrival of a delivery driver.
“Can I call you back in half an hour? Dinner just arrived.”
“You’ll want to hear this.”
Judd was using his “no messing around” voice. Clipped, professional, with the merest hint of underlying excitement. Alaric forgot about the pizza.
“What? Did you find something on the incident in Afghanistan?”
“Not Afghanistan. Syria. Or more precisely, two miles off the Syrian coast.”
Judd fiddled with the camera, and it panned back to reveal a rather tense-looking Hevrin sitting beside him. What the hell was going on?
“You’ll have to explain.”
“Nada here overheard me mentioning Eric Ridley’s name on the phone.”
“Hevrin,” Alaric said out of habit.
“Pretty sure that’s not her name either, so I’m sticking with Nada.” He gestured towards her. “Over to you.”
“Eric Ridley is a monster,” she said, and the steeliness in her tone shocked Alaric.
But he quickly adopted a neutral expression. “You’ll have to start at the beginning.”
Alaric felt a presence behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know it was Emmy. She moved like a cat, and he smelled the faintest hint of whatever shampoo she’d been using this month. Let her listen. He had a feeling this would concern all of them, and it would save him from explaining everything twice.
“Eight years ago, Eric Ridley and his men shot nineteen Kurdish refugees in the Mediterranean Sea. He called them vermin. It was fun for him.”
“I’m aware of the incident. He claims the victims shot at his boat first.”
“Hara! They were unarmed civilians.”
“Hara means bullshit,” Emmy murmured, although Alaric could have guessed.