Chapter Nine
What is it?” Bethany murmured. It was still dark, the sun barely making its presence known. Drew had put on the side lamp.
“I thought I heard the door,” Drew told her quietly. He flipped back the covers and went to have a look. The chain was off, the deadbolt undone but the regular lock was secure. “Did you lock this properly last night?”
“Yes,” Bethany grabbed her robe, putting it on as she padded toward Drew. “I double checked it.”
“The deadbolt isn’t locked,” Drew frowned as he flipped it to the locked position.
“What are these?” Bethany pointed to the sideboard. “Aren’t those your motorcycle keys?”
“They are,” Drew picked up the other two keys sitting there. “These are copies of the keys to the deadbolt and doorknob.”
“I don’t understand,” Bethany’s brow puckered in thought. “Who would have copies of your keys?”
“Molson,” Drew scowled.
“Why would he give them back?” Bethany asked. “He’s always been free to come and go here.”
“He’s mad at me,” Drew fingered the keys. “Mad enough to give back the keys.”
“He’s your brother. You need to set this right,” Bethany softly told him. “You should have apologized immediately after that remark about kicking him out of our lives.”
“I’m still not entirely certain that’s not the right move,” Drew scowled. “I don’t want you in any danger.”
“I have a big bad cop to protect me,” Bethany patted his chest. “We talked about this. Molson is staying in our lives.”
“I’ll go by the shop on my way to work,” Drew nodded. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling Bethany to his side. “He’ll be glad to know that the FBI have decided to open an investigation into Agent Lawe and that the case against Michael will be dismissed today.”
“And David will finally go to prison. Hopefully for the rest of his life,” Bethany leaned against Drew.
“Hopefully,” Drew kissed the crown of her head.
“I love you,” Bethany whispered.
“Good, because I love you,” Drew checked his watch and decided he could hold his fiancée for a few more minutes before getting ready for the day.
An hour later, Drew was looking at confusion at Sammy. “What do you mean Molson isn’t here?”
“He took some time off,” Sammy grunted as he wiped grease stained hands on a greasy rag. “He was sleeping in the backroom, but his stuff is gone. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”
“Did he say what he was doing? Where he was going?” Drew frowned. One thing he’d always counted on with his brother was that Molson was punctual and steady about his work attendance.
“Nope,” Sammy put the rag in his back pocket then grabbed an air hose. “You mind leaving? Some of my customers ain’t too comfortable with a cop around.”
“Sure thing,” Drew scowled. He knew the shop wasn’t doing anything illegal. Shady maybe, but not illegal. He’d checked many times just to make sure. However, many of the customers did have criminal lives. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime,” Sammy attached a buffing tool to the air hose.
Drew decided to go to the house. With Margot in the hospital, maybe Molson was hanging out there. It wasn’t too far out of the way and he judged that he had plenty of time to make it to work.
Caution tape and a typed notice on the door that the house was condemned by the city, greeted Drew. Glowering, Drew tried the door. It wasn’t even locked. Vandals could enter any time they wanted.
Ducking under the caution tape, Drew pulled out his flashlight as he surveyed the kitchen. An axe lay abandoned on the counter. A couple of doors were off the cabinetry. The door to the cellar was open. “Molson?”
Moving to the living room, Drew was stunned. There were holes in the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Stuffing from the couch spilled outward. It looked like a war zone except that someone had laid a blanket on the couch and swept up all the plaster and lathe that must have come off the walls. Several attempts at drywalling had been made, making a patchy design. The carpet from the floor was rolled up, standing in a corner of the room. Pieces of plywood had been screwed down on the floor randomly, causing tripping hazards.
What had happened here? Drew looked around in wonder at the familiar yet unfamiliar house of his youth. “Molson!”
