Disputed: A Ryn Davis Mystery (Ryn Davis Mystery Series Book 5) Read online

  Disputed

  Ryn Davis Mystery Series ~ Book 5

  AB Plum

  Contents

  About the Book

  Other Books by AB Plum

  Get Your Free Ebooks

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Book

  Demons from the past chase Ryn Davis as she tries to unravel the lies and secrets in her life …

  Ten days after shooting the psycho who planned to sell Ryn Davis to the highest bidder in a sex trafficking ring, she boards a private jet. The killing rips open thirty-year-old wounds from her former prostitute mother’s committed relationship with the jet’s billionaire owner. He’s dying, and Ryn wants to know why he loved her mother and provided for Ryn—despite her adolescent contempt.

  Former legendary rock star Bo “Peep” Scott insists on accompanying Ryn. With no living family, he understands her need to dig into her murky past. His teen-age abuse of drugs burned out much of his brains, but he intends to be there with love and support.

  Halfway over the Rockies, Beau receives a certified letter forwarded to his email. The unknown sender claims he and Beau are twins separated at birth. Now, the surprise brother’s teenage daughter needs protection. An international prostitution cartel intends to kill him and ruin her life.

  Lies, secrets, deceit, and murder collide as this cat and mouse game morphs into a battle for truth that threatens Ryn’s and Beau’s survival.

  Other Books by AB Plum

  The Ryn Davis Mystery Series

  Once You Cry, Prequel

  All Things Considered, Book 1

  Through Rose-Colored Glasses, Book 2

  No Little Lies, Book 3

  Disrupted, Book 4

  Disputed, Book 5

  Ready or Not

  A Psychological Thriller

  The MisFit Series

  The Boy Nobody Loved, Prequel

  The Early Years, Book 1

  The Lost Days, Book 2

  The In-Between Years, Book 3

  The Reckless Year, Book 4

  The Dispensable Wife, Book 5

  The Broken-Hearted Many, Book 6

  The Whole Truth, Book 7

  Other Books By The Author

  Writing as Barbara Plum

  Paranormal Romance

  BIg MAgIC (Book 1)

  HARd MAgIC (Book 2)

  TRUe MAgIC (Book 3)

  Romantic Comedy

  Prince of Frogs

  Queen of the Universe

  Writing as Allie Hawkins

  Romantic Suspense

  Presumed Guilty

  Unraveled

  Get Your Free Ebooks

  Join my newsletter for sneak previews, special content, answers to fan questions, requests for input, and even promotional offers.

  Receive two free ebooks as a thank-you.

  Once You Cry (The Ryn Davis Mystery Series prequel) which reveals a childhood trauma that pushed Ryn to the edge.

  The Boy Nobody Loved (The MisFit Series prequel) which is the start of one man’s journey to becoming a serial killer.

  Sign up for my newsletter at abplum.com

  As always, to my husband David, who spends time in the kitchen so I can spend time on the keyboard.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing is the easy part. Proofing, beta reading, formatting, editing, designing covers—these are just a few of the tasks that go into bringing a book to market. For all of you who have so generously given me your time and feedback, thank you.

  Prologue

  Click. Click. Click.

  At 10:00, the legal beagles had all gone home. But the computer keys barely created a whisper in the dim office. Ambient light, reflected from Beverly Hills’ perpetual nightlife, spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the twenty-fifth floor.

  The computer screen flickered blue in the dark office. Words filled the white background. The man broke his rhythm once. Stopped. Deleted a single letter.

  Too many s’s in essence. He smiled. Even clichés merited precision. He reread the text, input the closing, and pressed the print icon.

  He pulled on plastic gloves and removed the thick, high-quality sheet of letterhead paper, laying it to one side. He inserted a legal-sized envelope. Closed the printer. Again, tapped print. Scrawled his signature at the bottom of the letter. Folded the page in thirds before the envelope slid into the trough. He inserted the paper into the envelope. That went into the inside pocket of his suit coat.

  He aimed a small bottle at a thin white cloth from his other pocket. Spritz. Spritz. Spritz. The keyboard and monitor. The desktop and arms on the chair. Every surface he’d touched received a squirt of disinfectant. Several swipes—possibly overkill—erased potential fingerprints.

  Carpet muffled his footsteps as he jogged into the hallway. No hurry, really. Not with the security cameras hacked. The guard in the main lobby would never know what hit him.

  The man smiled and stepped into the elevator.

  “What—”

  His spine cracked as the passenger slammed him against the elevator’s mirrored wall. Instinct propelled him a step toward the door slowly closing.

  “The letter.” The passenger extended his free hand and pointed the gun in his other hand at the man’s chest.

  “The plan.”

  “Changed.” The passenger opened his hand wider.

  “Bastard. No honor among thieves.” The man jammed his hand into his pocket, imagined throwing the envelope in the passenger’s face, and
tossed it on the floor instead.

  The single bullet tore into his chest and cut short his final act of defiance.

  One Day Earlier, COVID-19 Lockdown in effect - Alta Vista, California

  Rock icon “Bo Peep” Scott cleared in death of psychopath

  Ryn Davis read the headline from the Silicon Valley Sentinel and swallowed the last of her breakfast coffee without choking. The icon, her live-in legal ward and best friend, had handed her the rag without comment. He tapped the purple cast on his right arm and wiggled his eyebrows. His attempt to cheer her up failed.

  Her name, along with Elijah White’s, came up repeatedly in the front-page story. The investigative reporter “reported” most of the facts inaccurately—who killed whom, when, and why. He also threw in two speculative paragraphs about the justifiable homicide of the husband of Ryn’s cousin. Surprisingly, he omitted Molly’s name.

  Go figure. Unlike the fickle celebrity of Ryn, Beau, and Elijah, Molly enjoyed no social media fame.

  Which is about to change.

  Ryn exhaled, finished the story, and tasted bile.

  Two murders involving the same three people boggled the mind. Mix in that Ryn, Elijah, and Beau had a history of other violent deaths over the past two years. The stuff of soap operas.

  Stone Wall, Ryn’s rock star lover, shot in their bed.

  Marta Fuentes, one of the former prostitutes living at Esperanza House, the halfway house for former prostitutes that Ryn ran and supported financially.

  Chad Gleeson, Molly’s psycho husband, Beau’s kidnapper, and Ryn’s wannabe sex master.

  Ironically, no mention of Whit Duncan, major donor to Esperanza House, shot in Ryn’s guestroom by “The Avenging Angel,” later killed by Elijah—not by Beau or Ryn.

  “Forget this crap.” Ryn pushed back from the kitchen table. No use whining about what she couldn’t undo. “Wanna go up to Esperanza House? I’ll ask Angela and Bella Dog, too.”

  “What about Elijah?”

  “I’m thinking I’ll give Elijah a break.”

  “I’m thinking I’ll hang with Elijah and Maj. She needs a little TLC with Bella Dog poaching on her territory.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Left unsaid, Beau’s need to bond with his queen-of-the-universe feline. He still bore black and blue bruises on his face and a casted broken arm from his kidnapping. What color were the mental scars from the screwed-up turn their lives had taken after his torture?

  Breakfast finished, Ryn checked with her Executive Housekeeper. Leti oversaw delivery of most necessities to the women’s community, but she often sent items from Ryn’s pantry as well. Did she want to send food, surgical masks, or anything else to the seven women and their kids at Esperanza House?

  Leti declined, adding, “I’ll make meatloaf to drop off tomorrow.”

  “Gracias, Wonder Woman.” Ryn offered an elbow bump.

  “De nada. Mi gusto. My pleasure.” Leti’s upbeat tone stopped Ryn.

  “Cómo estás?” The “Avenging Angel” had inadvertently implicated Leti in Whit Duncan’s murder, and it seemed a little presumptuous to assume she had bounced back so quickly.

  “Fine. Estoy bien.” Brown eyes steady, Leti placed her hand over her heart. “I would tell you. Verdad. Truthfully.”

  Ryn gave the younger woman a quick hug, released her, but took her hand. “Angela and Elijah plan to leave for Sacramento on Friday. After that, life should return to normal.”

  “Qué será, será.”

  They walked arm in arm to the back door.

  Despite the brilliant morning sunshine, Leti turned down Ryn’s offer to go for a walk. No one at the house except Elijah, six-five with legs like stilts, liked walking with Ryn. Which suited her fine. She’d use the time to think. Or not.

  Halfway to the koi pond, she stopped, turned, and retraced her steps. She should at least ask Molly, her newly found cousin, to accompany her. With a mother lying at death’s door, Molly must need a break.

  Ryn’s smartphone vibrated, and she slowed her pace. Caller ID showed the last name she ever wanted to see. Dammit.

  Tempted to let the call go to voice mail, she glanced toward the guesthouse. Check with Molly or talk with the caller?

  Since she’d have to speak with Steven White sooner or later, she connected the call. Crisp—snarky, to be honest—she asked, “Is William all right?”

  “I’m worried about him.” No greeting, but straight to the point—like all Secret Service jerks?

  Her pulse kicked up a notch. “When we hung up last night, he sounded fine.”

  “Today, he sounds old. Tired. Down.”

  “Down?” Ryn frowned. Except for a short phone call following her mother’s death, Ryn had never heard William Ward White anything but exuberant. The man who lived with her mother for sixteen years. The man who treated Ryn like his own child during those years. The man who withstood her adolescent disrespect with good humor and always proclaimed he was the luckiest man alive.

  Now, nearly thirty years after she struck out on her own, he ended their nightly phone calls, begun after the “Avenging Angel’s” self-defense killing, with the same phrase.

  I’m the luckiest man alive.

  Pacing in a tight circle, Ryn asked, “Are my phone calls too much for him?”

  “On the contrary. He lives for your calls.”

  Hyperbole. She bit her tongue. Steven White’s tendency toward exaggeration was only one of the reasons she distrusted him. “After less than a week? We haven’t spoken to each other since I was twenty-five, and he lives for my phone calls?”

  “Do you have any idea how much he loved your mother?”

  The ice in his tone caught her off guard. “You think he’s transferred his affections for her to me?”

  “I didn’t know you studied with Freud.”

  “Long enough to know you bared your teeth the first time you called me.” How had so much happened in a month?

  “Or you overreacted—knowing my relationship to Uncle Bill.”

  “That’s ridicu—”

  “Can you come to Kansas City? I know his spirits would pick up if you came for a few days.”

  She grabbed the first excuse that floated through her brain. “I can’t leave Beau—not after his torture session in the barn.”

  “Bring him.”

  Her heart beat too fast. “You do remember the pandemic? The governor advises Californians to avoid unnecessary travel.”

  “I’ll send Uncle Bill’s jet. No one’s been on it since I flew back from SFO last month.” Before she could protest, he added, “Naturally, it’s been professionally cleaned. The crew has quarantined since getting home, and they’ll have masks onboard. You’ll make Uncle Bill a happy old man.”

  Below the belt. Ryn kicked a rock off the path. “I’ll talk with Beau—”

  “One thing. I hope this isn’t a deal breaker. Beau can’t bring Maj. Uncle Bill is allergic to the word cat.”

  Ryn hadn’t considered transporting Maj halfway across the country by plane, but she sniped, “Now you tell me.”

  Smart man that he was, he said zip. She let him sweat for a few minutes and finally took mercy. “I’ll call to work out the details after I get Beau’s buy-in.”

  “Broken arm or not, ask him to bring his guitar. Uncle Bill’s a fan.”

  Another low blow. Beau loved to perform almost as much as he loved to eat. She deadpanned, “What about his drums?”

  A blip of silence and then Steven laughed. “Always the last word, Ryn.”

  Chapter 1

  The Next Day—Thirty-thousand feet above the Rockies–10:00 AM

  The private jet’s engine hummed, softened by the soulful guitar music floating through the cabin. The headache hammering Ryn’s skull faded. Eyes closed, arms and legs heavy as cement, she felt her whole body drift. She snuggled into the down-filled pillow and sighed. They’d arrived at Mineta Airport’s private jet area at 7:30 AM. So, even one hour of sleep now—

  The phone
on her waist vibrated. Her pulse raced.

  Calm down. She exhaled. The music soothed her exhausted brain. Beau sat in the back of the plane strumming his guitar. Once a professional, always a professional. He’d never let the cast stop him from playing. All is well with the world.

  Plus, she’d dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s before leaving California. She squeezed her eyes tighter. To hell with whoever was calling.