by Debra Webb
“What time last night did you finish your business with your assistant, Daniel Ledger?”
Annette shrugged. “Around midnight. Daniel was—”
“Daniel was,” Schaffer contended, “your alibi.”
Dread bloomed in Annette’s chest. “Daniel is my alibi.”
“Daniel Ledger was killed in an automobile accident.”
Denial and then remorse flooded Annette. Daniel had been her faithful employee for six years. God. First Jazel...now Daniel. “When?” The one word was tainted with far more anguish than she would have liked Schaffer to hear.
“I can’t give you a specific time. The accident occurred in the Mountain Brook area. According to the ME, probably in the last twelve hours.” Schaffer considered Annette a moment before continuing. “The strange thing is, he was driving a stolen Malibu, black in color, with a stolen dealer’s license plate. Were you aware your assistant was a thief?”
Thief? Daniel wasn’t a thief...he was...
Annette went cold as memories from last night’s close encounter on the road in the Mountain Brook area swarmed her head. Black sedan. She’d seen it before. The driver had been able to stay on her tail when the feds couldn’t.
But...Daniel wouldn’t have tried to run her off the road...
...would he?
Chapter Thirty-Two
By the time Schaffer was finished questioning Annette, Carson had started to sweat. Each time she crossed or uncrossed her legs his entire body tensed when he should have been completely focused on the questions.
It didn’t help that Wainwright and Luttrell, along with Schaffer’s boss, had been in this booth with him for nearly two hours. Neither wanted him there, but Schaffer had overridden their protests.
Carson owed the lady big time. He’d have to ask her about that later. Why would she buck his boss to help him out? Maybe because she just didn’t like Wainwright.
Special Agent in Charge Talley had kept his thoughts to himself. Carson was relatively certain the man had decided there was enough tension in the room without his interference.
Luttrell reached for the door at the same time as Carson.
The glare-off lasted a full ten seconds.
“I suppose,” Luttrell mocked, “you’ll post her bail when she’s arraigned.”
Carson chuckled. “You’ll have to find enough evidence to charge her first.”
Carson walked out of the room. Didn’t spare any of the three men another glance. Maybe his career was over, but he wasn’t backing off until he had the truth.
The whole truth.
To do that he needed Annette Baxter. And Dane Drake.
Wainwright, sans Luttrell, caught up with Carson halfway to the elevators. “You’re throwing away everything,” he cautioned.
Carson stared for several seconds at the man he had trusted, had admired, before he responded. For one of those seconds he considered that Wainwright was correct...maybe Carson was throwing away all that he’d worked so hard to achieve. “All I want is the truth.” He searched his mentor’s guarded gaze. Until a few hours ago, Carson had never doubted this man...but that had changed now. “Doesn’t that put us both on the same team?”
Wainwright moved his head from side to side, that fatherly worry cluttering his expression. “You’re the last person on earth I thought would fall for her ludicrous story.”
There had been a time when a part of Carson had desperately needed a father figure...he’d prized that aspect of his and Wainwright’s relationship. Not anymore. “What story is that?”
Wariness instantly replaced the worry. “Whatever that woman has told you is nothing but fabricated nonsense to cloud your perspective. You’ve read her file, you know what she’s capable of. I don’t think I need to spell it out.”
That was the moment Carson understood just how deep the lies went. Schaffer had been correct. Wainwright was hiding something. “You’re right. You don’t need to spell it out.” He clapped the man he’d once respected above all others on the shoulder. “When I’m done, I’ll have the whole truth.”
Carson walked away, didn’t look back until he’d reached the elevators where Annette waited. He glanced back once, long enough to see Luttrell and Wainwright huddled with Talley.
Annette didn’t speak until she and Carson were outside the building and headed for his car. She wheeled on him. “You told them, didn’t you?”
Carson was confused for a moment; the conversation with Wainwright was still reverberating in his head. Then he understood. “About the Anderson name?”
Fury radiated from her blue eyes. “No one knew! Only you.”
She got into his rented car before he could answer. Shaking his head, he rounded the hood and climbed behind the wheel. He started the vehicle and turned to her. “I didn’t tell them. I don’t know how they discovered your connection to that alias, but I had nothing to do with it. Remember, I just found out. At the center. Clearly, someone already knew or your sister wouldn’t be a target.”
That reminder seemed to calm her down or, at least, to shift her anger in another direction.
Carson considered the issue of the murder weapon. “You said you disposed of the weapon Dane used.”
“I did.” She stared forward. Wouldn’t look at him.
“And if the thirty-eight isn’t yours, that will come out.”
She turned and stared directly at him. “If they want it to be mine, it will be.”
She was right. There were ways. They would use slugs from the weapon in their possession and claim they had been retrieved from the victim. Almost anything was possible.
“I’m...sorry about your assistant,” he offered.
Annette closed her eyes for one long moment. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
He felt like a heel for asking, but the insanity surrounding this whole mess wouldn’t allow for too much tact. “Do you know anything about the stolen car?”
She moved her head slowly from side to side. “All I know is that I was in the Mountain Brook area last night and a dark sedan attempted to run me off the road.” Her gaze collided with his. “Then it disappeared.”
Carson considered the sedan that had nearly run him over and the one, possibly the same one, that had been following him. Black. Maybe a Malibu.
“Do you have any reason to believe your assistant would want to stop what we’re doing?” Jesus, could no one be trusted in this?
“All I know,” Annette said somberly, “is that we have one chance to prove the truth. We have to find Dane Drake before anyone else does.”
Carson agreed completely. “Where do we start?” His first thought would be to call Elizabeth. But that would only give away their intentions.
“With his friends,” Annette said. “In places you’ve never been.”
Annette provided the directions to Dane’s most recent address, the SoHo Building in Homewood. The guy moved around like a gypsy. Six months ago his father had leased him an apartment in one of the better high-rises in downtown Birmingham. According to Annette, Dane preferred the gutter to his daddy’s gift.
“If he’s not here,” Carson noted aloud, “I’ll talk to Elizabeth to see if she’s heard from him.” That Dane had been missing from the scene of his father’s murder that morning nagged at Carson. Why the hell wouldn’t the guy show up for his mother’s sake? For his sister’s? Then again, he was likely terrified that his link to Zac’s murder would be discovered.
Carson damned sure intended to ask him the instant he found the bum.
But Carson knew Dane. No matter what Dane said under the influence, Carson couldn’t believe that he would hurt his family. Or his own family.
No way.
There had to be another explanation of how he came into possession of the wedding bands. And that explanation could be the first real lead in the case.
Once on the property, Annette led the way into and through the elegant lobby as if she’d been here many times before. Considering Dane was one
of her repeat clients, she likely had. She paused at the elevator and pressed the call button. When the doors slid open, they stepped inside and she selected floor four.
When Carson leaned against the far wall, Annette joined him there. Her subtle scent tugged at his senses. Made him want to lean in her direction.
His body reacted. All his powers of concentration were required to maintain a steady respiration rate. The way she’d uncrossed and then crossed her legs during the interrogation kept rewinding and playing in his head. The woman knew how to get to a man. Knew how to make him want her in a way he’d never wanted anyone before. Despite the insanity going on all around him. Despite the slow, steady destruction of his whole life.
He told himself that letting this thing between them get any farther out of control would be a mistake...and still his body hardened at just being near her.
Bad idea.
The instant the elevator doors opened, he was out of there. At Dane’s door on the fourth floor, Carson banged repeatedly. Called the guy’s name. Nothing.
Annette tried the door. Locked.
Then she surprised Carson all over again. She removed a lock-pick kit from her purse. Less than a minute later they were inside.
“Clever,” he commented drily. That was something he’d never taken the time to learn. Mainly because it was illegal.
“One of the perks of growing up with perverts and assholes. You learn many escape maneuvers.”
That she had been sexually abused as a child twisted in his gut. Made him wish there had been someone there to protect her.
Did she need protecting now?
There was a hell of a crazy notion. He’d never known a woman more capable of protecting herself.
But then, evading a homicide charge was a little more complicated. He expected Drake’s murder to be pinned on her as well.
Concentrate on the matter at hand, Carson. Everything was on the line right now.
Dane’s apartment was empty. They checked each room twice.
“Doesn’t look as if he’s been here in a few days.” Carson checked the fridge. The milk had gone out of date several days before.
“He disappears all the time,” Annette reminded him. “The last time we talked I told him to lay low for a while.”
Carson and Dane hadn’t kept in touch. He had no idea what the guy was up to or even where he lived.
If this was home, he didn’t eat or sleep here on a regular basis.
The place was a mess. Clothes tossed here and there on the floor. The walls were bare as were the shelves. Carson had checked the closet: more haphazardly stored clothing items. A couple of CDs on the dresser. And not much else.
“I have a few contacts I can reach out to,” Annette offered as they prepared to exit the apartment.
“I’ll give Elizabeth a call.” He hated to bother her with this on a day like today, but he needed to check on her and Patricia. It was the right thing to do. And finding Dane was their only hope of finding some answers.
“Be careful what you say to her,” Annette suggested. “I’m not so sure you should trust her.”
She had to be kidding. “Elizabeth would never do anything to hurt anyone.” He glanced at Annette as they entered the elevator once more. “Not even to protect her brother.”
Annette said nothing to that. Carson selected the first floor. As the doors glided closed he watched the woman waiting on the opposite side of the car. A paradox. Definitely.
“How do you do it?” He had no business asking the question, but there it was. With all that was going on, with his career—his entire future—in the toilet, this should be the last thing on his mind.
“How do I do what?” Her steady gaze rested on his.
“Be so distant and cold, like in the interview today.” He studied her closely, too closely for his own comfort. “That night at the Tutwiler, you were hot and wild. Was that night just an act?”
She reached out and pressed the stop button on the control panel. The elevator car jolted to a halt between the third and second floors, but the doors remained closed.
She reclined against the wall and analyzed him a moment. “I play the part that’s called for in any given situation.”
Well, he’d asked for that one. “So you’re saying that when we had sex, you didn’t really want to, you just played the part. Didn’t feel a thing, like you suggested.” This was not the time for his bruised ego to enter the picture. Or maybe he just needed a break from the escalating tension. Either way, this was just one more indication of how out of control he was.
“That’s right.” Her frank tone left no room for speculation. “Don’t beat yourself up, Tanner. No man has ever given me an orgasm.”
He tamped down the incensed protest that was automatic. “And the lack of panties in today’s interrogation, was that part of getting into character?”
A ghost of a smile haunted her lips. “You should have recognized that one. It was a distraction tactic. Don’t you use that technique in the courtroom when you’re out of forthright options?”
Before good sense could stop him, he’d crossed to her side of the elevator. “That’s one I haven’t used.” He braced a hand on either side of her, trapping her with his body. As ludicrous as it was just now, there was one thing he had to know. “So you felt nothing when we were together that night? Nothing at all.”
She tilted her head back so that she could stare directly into his eyes. “You mean, when we fucked?”
“Yes, when we fucked.”
“Nothing, Mr. Deputy District Attorney. I turned that off a very long time ago.”
“Maybe,” he allowed. “And maybe you’re just protecting yourself.” He leaned in closer. “Maybe you’re afraid to feel something that personal.”
She laughed softly. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
He didn’t believe her. “I think you’re scared to death.”
She searched his eyes, his face. “I think you have something to prove.”
How the hell could she read him so well? “I have nothing to prove,” he lied.
She laughed. “You’re pissed because you couldn’t make me come. Get over it, better men have tried.”
“Why would I care? I did. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Then why are we wasting time discussing the issue?”
She was right. He had something to prove. The epiphany might not have been so profound had it not occurred to him in the middle of his entire life being inside out.
The bottom line was, he needed to get past this. And there was only one way to do it.
Before good sense could kick in, he reached down and hiked up the hem of her skirt. Hoisted her up against his chest and wrapped her legs around his waist. Need rushed through him, making his heart pound, making his breath ragged. “I’ve wanted to do this again since the first time you crossed your legs in that interview room.”
“Then why don’t you shut up and do it. For the good it’ll do you.”
He kissed her hard. “Oh, you’ll feel me.” His fingers jerked at his fly. He rammed into her. Her body tensed. Oh yeah. She felt that. He thrust deeper.
Desire erupted inside him. He resisted. He would not come before her. By God, not this time.
Harder, deeper, faster. He ground his pelvis into hers. Her breath caught. “Felt that, didn’t you?”
“Felt what?” She looked straight into his eyes and smiled. “Give it up, Tanner. You’re going to fail. As difficult as that concept is for you to comprehend, there’s a first time for everything.”
“Come, damn you,” he growled, pumped harder, deeper.
She made a sound, not quite a whimper. “Not going...to happen,” she stammered.
Her halting words urged him on. “Oh, yeah, you’re going to come this time.”
“Dream on.” She gasped.
He watched her face. That cold mask had slipped just a little, revealing the struggle her mind fought with her body. He was winning.
&nb
sp; He reached between them and massaged her. She squirmed in his arms. His mouth closed over hers and he kissed her long and deep, sucked on her lips, all the while keeping up the rhythmic pumping, the rubbing of that hot button.
She tried to push him away. “Damn you!”
He didn’t let up. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. He slowed down the pace, wanted her to enjoy the charge of sensations.
“Noooo!” She pounded his back. “Faster.”
He flexed his hips. Gave her what she wanted.
She came with the same fervor that she did everything else. The scream muffled between their kisses sent him over the edge. The release left him weak in the knees and suffering from a vulnerability he had never before experienced.
What the hell was wrong with him?
She trembled as she pushed at his chest, lowered her feet to the floor, and shoved her skirt back down.
He tugged at his own clothes, the air raging in and out of his lungs, his pulse pounding as if he’d run ten miles.
When he looked up, she would not meet his gaze.
The ice bitch had thawed.
He looked away...couldn’t bear to see the result.
The elevator car jerked into motion.
By the time it stopped on the lobby level they both faced the doors, ready to escape the scene of the crime.
They walked silently to his car, her one step ahead. Got in simultaneously.
He wanted to say something. Wanted to revel in his victory.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do either. He’d beaten her at her own game.
There was just one sticking point...at what cost to her?
To him?
His cell buzzed, breaking the choking tension.
He dragged it from his jacket pocket. “Tanner.”
It was Elizabeth. She wanted him to come over right away. She was frantically worried about her mother. The pain and grief in her voice tortured him.
There was no question now...he was crazy. Stark raving.
“I’ll be right there.”
He backed out of the parking slot and rolled toward the street. “That was Elizabeth. She needs me. I can ask about Dane while I’m there.”