The Loner: Crossfire by J.A. Johnstone Page A

authorities in on his search for his missing children would be a mistake. To Pamela’s warped mind, the whole thing had been a game, and instinct told him if he didn’t play by her rules, he would regret it.
    The police were taking the incident seriously.
    Nine men were dead: the six bodyguards Turnbuckle had hired, and two strangers, who must have been members of the gang, and the driver. If the detectives knew the names of those men and who they associated with, they weren’t sharing that information with Conrad and Turnbuckle.
    When the two of them were told they were free to go at last, Turnbuckle accompanied Conrad to the hotel. Conrad’s bags, which had been brought separately to the hotel, had arrived safely.
    When they reached Conrad’s suite, they found a bottle of brandy waiting for them, ordered earlier by Turnbuckle. Conrad poured drinks, then told the lawyer, “I want you to see to it that the families of the bodyguards who were killed tonight are taken care of. I’ll pay for all the funeral expenses, and the families shouldn’t be hurting for money for a while, either.”
    Turnbuckle nodded. “I’ll make sure of it. I would have, anyway, even if you hadn’t said anything. They were working for me, on your behalf.”
    “Exactly.” Conrad sipped the brandy. “Do you have any sources of information inside the police department?”
    “Perhaps,” Turnbuckle replied with a lawyer’s habitual non-committal caution.
    “Maybe you can find out the identities of those gunmen who were killed. Knowing who they were and where they spent their time, might lead us to whoever hired them.”
    “The same thought crossed my mind. I’ll have our investigators look into that, as well as continuing the search for the Golden Gate and D.L.”
    “All right,” Conrad said. “If I think of anything else, I’ll be in touch.”
    “And if we find out anything, I’ll let you know immediately.”
    “Claudius ... I’m sorry my troubles have put you in danger again.” Several months earlier, Turnbuckle had been wounded by a gunman hired by one of Conrad’s enemies, as part of the ongoing plot against him.
    Turnbuckle waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. Since we’ve started representing the interests of you and your father, there’s been more excitement in my life than ever before.”
    “Not necessarily the sort of excitement you might want, though,” Conrad pointed out.
    “Speaking of your father,” Turnbuckle said, “have you thought about getting in touch with him to see if he could help you with your search?”
    Conrad frowned. “You know where Frank is?”
    “Well, not exactly. I could probably locate him, though, if I set out to do so. The last I heard, he was in Alaska.”
    “Alaska?” Conrad repeated with a smile. “That sounds like Frank. Always wandering.”
    “They don’t call him The Drifter for nothing.” Turnbuckle paused. “What about it? Do you want me to try to find him?”
    Conrad shook his head. “No, this is my problem, not Frank’s.”
    “He’s always been glad to help before. And those children are his grandson and granddaughter, after all.”
    Conrad tossed back the rest of his drink and set the empty snifter on an expensive, hand-carved sideboard. “No.”
    “Very well. It’s up to you, certainly.” Turnbuckle finished his drink. “I should be going and let you get some rest. I’m glad we both survived the night.”
    Conrad nodded. Surviving was generally a good thing ... although there had been a time when he wished more than anything in the world that he had died along with Rebel, so he wouldn’t have to live without her.
    Once Turnbuckle was gone, Conrad stripped off the clothes that stunk of stale beer and tossed them on the floor. The hotel staff could clean them or burn them or whatever they wanted to do. He washed up, then fell onto the soft, luxurious four-poster bed in the elaborately decorated bedroom.
    Despite his weariness, sleep didn’t come easily to