“Because they can identify the guy who escaped?”
“That, and because these guys didn’t get what they wanted from you. They got you here using your mom and sister once. They know your weakness. There’s nothing to stop them from trying again.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought. “All right. That makes sense.” Because he was right. She’d do it all over again if they were snatched a second time.
“You should go with them.”
A harsh laugh escaped before she could stop it. “Um, no. That’s not going to happen.”
“Em—”
“Not going to happen and nothing you can say will change my mind.”
He studied her a second longer before he frowned and nodded. “All right. You said she hates cops. Why?”
“Because a cop shot and killed my dad.”
He stilled, his eyes soft, yet wary. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He deserved it.”
She could tell she’d rendered him speechless. He cleared his throat. “Okay, I see we have some more topics to talk about later, but for now”—he nodded toward her mother and Sophia—“do you want to tell them or do you want me to?”
Which would be better? She glanced over her shoulder at the pair. Her mother’s eyes were closed and Sophia had rolled to her left side. “Actually, I think at this point she probably hates me more than she hates cops.” Emily looked away from the instant concern in his blue eyes. “Which vehicle should I wait in while you tell her?”
“I have my truck across the street, but don’t leave yet. I don’t want you to be anywhere alone.”
Emily waited while Brady walked over to her mother and broke the news. The woman’s shoulders slumped, then straightened. Emily heard her say something but couldn’t make out the words. Brady responded and her mother’s mouth shut. With snapping eyes and a hard jaw, she nevertheless was gentle when she woke Sophia.
Unable to figure out the emotions rolling through her, Emily pressed chilled fingers to her burning eyes and did her best to keep the memories at bay.
“Emily?” Brady placed a hand on her shoulder and she opened her eyes. “You okay?”
“Not really, but that’s not important. Did she agree?”
“She did.”
“Wow. What did you say to make that happen?”
“That if Sophia died because she refused police protection, then that was on her.”
Emily’s jaw dropped and she quickly snapped it shut. “Impressive.”
He shrugged. “Whatever works. You want to say goodbye for now?”
Emily spotted her mother and a now-awake Sophia talking to another officer. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He waved to someone behind her, then took her hand. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“You might not want to go with your mom and sister to their safe place, but we’re going to find you one you can live with.”
Brady stood at the island in the middle of the kitchen he shared with his sister and brother while Emily sat on the couch and let Ruthie change the bandage on her arm. She’d borrowed a long-sleeved T-shirt from Ruthie, tossing her torn, bloodied one in the trash. “Check her foot again while you’re at it,” he said. “Please.”
Ruthie raised a brow, then nodded.
“Come on, Brady,” Emily said, sounding half amused, half irritated. “The paramedics at the warehouse said I was fine.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather have Ruthie’s word for it.”
The kitchen bar faced the den, the open concept allowing him to raid the refrigerator and participate in the conversation taking place on the couch. He set a couple sodas on the counter.
“Are you sure Mom and Sophia will be all right?” Emily asked Linc, who stood near the mantel. She took a sip of her water. “I could tell Mom wasn’t real happy about being sent to a safe house. And when Mom’s not happy, heads can roll.”
“They’ll be fine. Better to be unhappy than dead.”
Emily flinched and Brady rolled his eyes. “Smooth, Linc.”
“Sorry. I’m afraid Derek is influencing me, as I seem to be having trouble with tact these days.” He sighed. “But really, Emily, I promise, they’re better off there for a bit while we track down who snatched them—and you.”
“I know. I understand—and they do too, I hope.”
Ruthie pressed the last strip of adhesive to the bandage. “Do you need anything stronger than what I prescribed at the hospital to help you sleep tonight?”
Emily recoiled. “No.”
Ruthie frowned. “Just asking.”
“I know.” Emily cleared her throat. “Sorry. I . . . used to have an addiction to painkillers, and I prefer to just suffer rather than risk getting addicted again.”
Ruthie’s features softened. “I understand. I wasn’t really talking about painkillers per se. You can go a natural route with some melatonin or something.”
“I’m okay right now.”
If the tight set of her jaw and pale cheeks were any indication, she was lying through her teeth.
Linc paced in front of the brick fireplace, phone pressed to his ear. “Can you threaten him with something to get him to talk? Uh-huh. Right. Yeah. Got it.” He hung up and rubbed his eyes. “That was Derek. He said Parker isn’t speaking other than to request a burger and to leave him alone so he could think. So, Derek said they’ve given him an hour to think. Said normally he’d push, but there was something about Parker that made him think backing off would be the better move.”
“For all his lack of tact, Derek’s good at reading people,” Brady said. “If he thinks that’s best, then it probably is. Did Parker make any phone calls?”
“Not yet. His request for a lawyer still stands, so we’re waiting to hear that we can go question him.”
“Good.” Brady slid a glance to Emily. Gas logs gave off a warm glow, and all he could think about was that he wanted to send his siblings away so he could sit on the couch with Emily and ask her how and why she’d become addicted to painkillers. But now wasn’t the time for that. Priorities.
He stepped into the den and sat on the love seat across from her. “I know you told the lead investigator everything, but could you go through it again? I didn’t get to listen like I wanted to and Linc didn’t hear any of it.”
“Neither did I,” Ruthie said.
Emily raked a hand through her dark hair and the T-shirt sleeve slid up—revealing the rope burns she’d acquired yesterday. As well as the older white crisscrossing scars. She lowered her arm and pulled the sleeve down. “The first text I got in the hospital was to throw you off,” she said to Brady. “Once you were gone, they knew it.”
Brady looked at Linc. “Any word on the faces on her hall at the hospital?”
“Not yet.”
Back to Emily. “Go on.”
“Anyway, after you were gone, I got the next text telling me they were watching and that I was to leave or else. I wrote the note, made sure I stayed in view of the hospital cameras, and grabbed a cab.”
“Are you a cop?” Ruthie asked.
Emily raised a brow. “No. But I lived on the streets long enough to figure out how to think like one—and how to make sure someone can follow me. Or not.” She scowled. “At least when I know someone plans to do so. I had no idea someone planned to grab me as I walked out of my office building and throw me into the trunk of a car.”
“Of course not,” Brady said. “Just to satisfy my own curiosity—why were you living on the streets?”
She looked away from him. “It was after my dad was killed. My mom told me to get out, so I did. It’s a long story. I . . . can tell you about that another time. As for today, from what I could tell, the cab driver was innocent in all of this, but I knew someone was watching at the hospital and I was afraid they could still see me somehow. That’s why I didn’t try to call or text once I got in the car
.” She rubbed her arms and shivered.
“We’ve already tracked the driver down,” Linc said. “He’s being questioned as we speak. As are the other two who were rounded up at the warehouse. The Uber driver’s in the wind, but we subpoenaed the Uber records. There’s a BOLO out on him right now.”
Brady’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. “Well, looks like it’s time for a chitchat.”
“Who’s that?”
“The lawyer has arrived, so I’m going to head over to question Parker about the break-ins and the pictures,” Brady said. “Since we connected on such a personal level, maybe he’ll open up to me.”
“Sarcasm?” Linc asked.
Brady rubbed a hand over his bruised jaw. “I owe the guy a punch in the face.”
“I want to see him,” Emily said.
“No, you need to stay here and rest,” Brady said. “Linc and I can take care of this. But I promise we’ll let you know what we find out as soon as possible.”
“But—”
“They’re right,” Ruthie said. “Let them do their job.”
Emily’s shoulders wilted, and Brady was surprised she didn’t argue further. Probably a good indication of her fatigue. And pain.
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Linc asked.
She rubbed her forehead and nodded. “They wanted me to find the Lady Marie.”
“The what?” Brady crossed his arms and frowned.
“It’s a houseboat that sank. They wanted me to tell them which lake it sank in and the location on the lake.”
“Did you tell them?” Brady asked.
“No, because I didn’t know what they were talking about.”
Frowning, Linc tapped his pen on the notebook. “And yet, they think you do.”
“Apparently.” She sighed. “He said he wanted the information I received Wednesday night. The only thing I can think of is that Heather may have had some information that she hadn’t passed on to me yet. I don’t know how they would know what she was working on or that she was going to send it to me, but it’s obvious they did. So maybe they think she emailed me and that information was in there. Only she never emailed, which means I don’t have a clue.”
“Makes sense,” Brady said.
“Have you been able to find anything at all that might tell us what happened to her?” Emily asked.
Linc shook his head. “We haven’t been able to locate her car even with the BOLO on it. No credit card usage or ATM withdrawals. Nothing. And the security camera in the parking garage where she made the 911 call was disabled, so there’s no way we can see what happened.” His eyes met hers.
Emily winced and stood. Paced to the entrance to the sunroom, then to the fireplace, where she stood in front of the flames. “I don’t understand. Where could she be?”
“Emily . . . ,” Brady said.
Her gaze met his and he wanted to reassure her that her friend was probably fine and just hiding out. But . . .
He didn’t think so.
The 911 call, the lack of activity on her accounts, the missing car . . . all added up to the fact that it was probable they just hadn’t found her body yet. Or she was being held somewhere.
She looked away.
“They’ve already pulled her records and pinged her phone, but there’s nothing to indicate her location now.” Linc glanced at Brady. “If you ask me, our best lead is sitting in the interrogation room. You ready?”
“I am.”
Linc headed for the door and Ruthie gestured to her medical supplies. “I’ll just put these away.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Brady said to Linc.
Linc turned. “I’ll be in the car.”
Once they were alone, Brady placed his hands on Emily’s shoulders. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” She sighed. “As long as my mother and sister are okay, then yes, I’ll be able to function. I just need to know about Heather.” She bit her lip. “One way or another. I’m going to try to reach her parents again. I just don’t understand why they haven’t called me back.”
He pulled her into a hug even as part of him asked himself what he thought he was doing—and why he was doing it. He kept telling himself she was a victim, that she was emotionally fragile, and that he needed to tread carefully. Then again, her emotional state really shouldn’t matter to him.
Because he wasn’t interested. At least not any more than he would be interested in—that is, concerned about—someone who was having as much trouble as she.
Which is why you’re standing there with her in your arms, right?
He let her go and she stepped back, the confusion in her gaze zinging his heart. “Uh. Okay then,” he said. “I’m going to leave you here with Ruthie. Derek plans to come over as well to keep an eye on the place. Izzy and/or Chloe, my sisters, may join him.”
“Your sisters. Who are also police officers?”
“Izzy made detective last year and Chloe is in the K-9 unit.”
“Got it. You have an amazing family, don’t you?”
He smiled. “Yeah. I really do.” And then he slipped out the door to join Linc in the vehicle.
13
Emily locked the door behind him and leaned her forehead against it as fatigue battered her. But she couldn’t sleep. As long as she didn’t know who was after her, her family was in danger. And Heather. Heather was as much a sister to her as Sophia. More so. And she w.as so very afraid she was never going to see her again. Tears gathered, prayers formed. Oh please, God, please . . .
“You’re not going to help yourself if you let your body wear down,” Ruthie said from behind her.
Emily turned. “Mentally, I know you’re right. However, my heart is pushing me to keep going, keep thinking, and keep working until I get it all figured out.”
“Hmm. Sounds like you fit in just fine with the St. John crew.”
A laugh huffed from Emily and she followed Ruthie to the couch. Ruthie took one end, Emily took the other. She closed her eyes. “I can’t think straight.”
“It’s called ‘you need sleep.’”
“Yes, probably.”
“They’ll call if they find something or hear something.”
“Not if they think it will wake us up.”
Ruthie’s brow lifted. “That’s probably true. And impressive.”
“What’s impressive?”
“How long have you known them?”
“Just met them last night.”
“And you’ve already got a good read on them.” Ruthie nodded. “Like I said, impressive.”
“They’re good guys,” Emily said. “Rare ones.”
“Indeed. And one of them thought to get your overnight bag and bring it here. Oh, and they bought you a phone and filled your prescription. Just in case.” She handed Emily the phone.
“Thank you. They did all that, huh?”
“They did.”
“I was right,” she said. “They’re good guys. Special.”
Ruthie gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well, let’s keep that between us. As special as they are, they still have the ability to be insufferable if their heads get too big.”
Emily laughed and stood, doing her best to ignore all the aches and pains. It was going to be hard to sleep tonight. Not just because someone wanted her dead and she was massively worried about Heather, but because of the throbbing in her arm. “I think I’m going to have to eat my words,” she told Ruthie. “What do you have that will knock the edge off the pain but isn’t addicting?”
Her new friend smiled. “The stuff I prescribed at the hospital.”
“Right. I think I’ll take one.”
“I think that’s a really good idea.”
“I’ve decided it’s stupid not to take advantage of your expertise. I’m going to need to rest if I’m going to be any help in this case.” She paused. “Whatever this case winds up being.”
“I agree.”
; “Where are the pills?”
“In the room you’ll stay in.” Ruthie stood. “Sit tight, I’ll get them for you.”
“Thank you.”
Ruthie left, pulling her phone from her pocket, and Emily spotted her laptop sitting on the kitchen counter. Brady must have set it there so she’d see it easily. She walked over and opened it. Then shut it. Would someone be able to trace her if she logged in?
The possibility had her backing away. But what about her phone? If she logged in to her email through her phone, which she’d done earlier in a different location, would someone be able to track her here?
And she’d like to check her text messages, but again, she hesitated. She’d have to transfer all of her information onto the new phone in order to access everything.
Which, again, might allow someone to track her.
But she could call Heather’s parents and give them yet another new number to reach her. She dialed Mrs. Gilstrap’s number.
“Hello? Heather?” the frantic voice cried.
“No, Mrs. Gilstrap, it’s—”
The distinct click of the line disconnecting stopped her. She checked the screen and frowned. “Great.” When she called again, it went straight to voice mail. “What?” Maybe the battery had died. She left a message, begging for a return call, then set the phone on the counter and went back to the couch to close her eyes.
Moments later, the sound of footsteps opened them. Ruthie stood in front of her with a glass of water and a pill. “Here you go. Nonaddictive, I promise.”
Emily downed it. “Thanks.”
“Why don’t I show you to your bed and you can rest awhile?”
“I think that sounds like a lovely idea.”
Now she needed her brain to shut off. Just for a few moments. Please. Then she’d call Heather’s mother.
Brady led the way into the police station. Although it wasn’t his home turf, it was still the same atmosphere. The familiar smells and ongoing activity washed over him, offering him a strange comfort that the peaceful little cabin at the lake—before it was blown up—hadn’t been able to compete with.
“Brady?”
Detective Andy Kirkpatrick strode toward him and Brady smiled. “Hey, good to see you.” Brady shook his hand. “This is my brother, Linc St. John. He’s an FBI agent. Not sure if you two have met.”
Code of Valor Page 12