by Karen Rose
“It’s a cold case,” Clay said doubtfully. “Odds aren’t good.”
“We have to try,” Paige insisted. “Ramon’s lost his wife and six years of his life.”
Grayson thought of the knife at her throat. “They won’t stop coming after you, either.”
“And you won’t always be around with your trusty briefcase to save me.”
Yes, I will. The promise was irrational in too many ways. But he silently made it anyway. “Then we’d better get to work.”
She pulled a folder from her backpack. “This is the trial transcript. We can start piecing together Crystal’s life and her movements before the night she was murdered. We’ll have to start at ground zero. If some of the testimony was tainted, more could be.”
“Assuming these pictures are valid, that’s true.” Grayson aligned the three photos, tapping the man sitting next to Ramon at the bar. “Based on that same assumption, we also need to find this guy. Jorge Delgado. Ramon’s best friend.”
“Delgado lied under oath,” Clay said. “Somebody put him up to it.” He pointed to the face of the man wearing the disguise. “My money’s on this guy.”
“Mine, too. Somebody ordered that hit on Paige. Sandoval was dying at the time.”
Paige studied him. “You don’t believe it was suicide?”
“We can’t afford the luxury of believing it. I think someone’s tying up loose ends.”
“Like Paige,” Clay said grimly and Grayson nodded.
“I just hope Sandoval wasn’t Delgado’s handler. If so, we’re screwed.”
“How do we know Delgado’s still alive?” Clay asked.
Grayson checked his e-mail on his phone, relieved to see a message from Daphne. “Delgado’s alive all right. At least he was as of an hour ago.”
Paige frowned. “How do you know?”
“I asked my assistant to check Delgado’s last known before I came here.”
Paige blinked. “You believed me, even before I showed you the pictures.”
“I watched somebody try to kill you,” Grayson said, knowing the memory of those moments would stay with him for a long time. “Whatever you knew, somebody didn’t want you to tell.” Plus, I didn’t believe Delgado five years ago. I just didn’t want to admit it then. But I can’t hide from it any longer.
“So where is Delgado?” Clay asked. “And how do we know he’s alive?”
Grayson clicked the link Daphne had included. “A reporter did a follow-up to Elena’s murder. Delgado was quoted along with other people in the neighborhood. He says, ‘This is a sad day. To lose Elena was a senseless tragedy, but to lose Maria in the same day… Our prayers go out to the entire Muñoz family.’” He lifted his eyes sharply to find Paige looking stricken. “What does he mean, ‘to lose Maria’?”
“Ramon’s mother had a heart attack this morning when she heard about Elena’s murder. She died.” Paige balled her fists. “For that liar to even say their names…”
Grayson closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the mother’s wild sorrow when Ramon’s jury had announced their verdict. “When you said his mother worked herself to death, I didn’t… I thought it was just an expression. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, jumping when one of the phones on the table vibrated.
Clay grabbed it. “Yeah?” he answered, then his expression changed. “When?… Keep him calm and keep him there.” He shoved away from the table. “Did BPD file an Amber?… Good. Print copies of the photos we have on file. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“What?” Paige asked. “What’s wrong?”
“That was Alyssa. Sylvia Davis made bail.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Paige said. “She took Zach? How?”
Clay was yanking on his coat. “John left Zach with Sylvia’s mother while he went into the office to pick up some files. Grandma put up a fight, and now she’s in ICU.”
Paige pushed to her feet, her face gone pale. “Oh my God.”
Grayson rose, uncertainly. “Who is Sylvia Davis?”
“Clay’s client,” Paige said. “Custody battle. Dad wants custody because Mom’s an addict. Mom got arrested last night for trying to pimp out her kid. I’m going with you.”
Clay glared. “You will not. One, you are injured, and two, you have a goddamn target on your head.” He glanced at Grayson. “She can stay here till I get back?”
“Of course.” He followed Clay to the front door, Paige behind him, suddenly so close he could feel her warmth against his back. So close that the breath he drew filled his head with her scent, lush and heady. “If you need to stay, I’ll see her home safely.”
“Take her home soon.” Clay looked over his shoulder, meeting Paige’s eyes. “She hasn’t slept in more than a day.”
“For God’s sake,” Paige muttered as Clay disappeared down the street at a fast jog.
Grayson locked the door and faced Paige, who looked annoyed. This close, he could see the purple smudges of exhaustion under her makeup. He barely resisted the urge to run his fingertips under her eyes. “Why haven’t you slept since yesterday?”
“I worked all night, watching that mom pimp out her kid.”
“What did you do about it?” That she’d done something was a given in his mind.
“Grabbed a cop. They stopped her.” Her mouth tightened. “Part of me wishes the cops hadn’t been so fast. I’d have broken her damn door down and made sure she wasn’t ambulatory enough to steal her kid back. He’s only six years old.” Her voice grew harsh. Brittle. “He’ll be terrified.”
There was something there, the shadow of fear, a deep rage that had both everything and nothing to do with what had occurred the night before. Grayson recognized it all too well. He kept his own voice mild, but gave in to the need to touch her, sweeping his thumb over her cheek. “Is your partner good at his job?”
She swallowed hard, her eyes on his. She was holding herself rigid, as if she was afraid she’d shatter. Grayson recognized that feeling, too. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Then let him do his job. You saved the little boy last night. He’ll save him tonight. Right now, you staying alive is just as important.”
Something that looked like guilt flittered through her eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
Irritation flared within him. “If you’re dead, how many little boys will you save?”
“Not enough,” she said softly. “Never enough,” she added, as if to herself. She took a step back and he let his hand fall to his side, the moment over. “What about Delgado? We need to talk to him, if he’s still around. Knowing him, he’s probably run away.”
“You’ve met him, too?”
“No. I’ve gone by his place a few times, but he was never home.” She frowned. “Wait. He doesn’t live in the Muñozes’ neighborhood. What was he doing there?”
“What do you mean, he doesn’t live there? His address is a block from Elena’s.”
“His wife and kid still live there, but Jorge moved out four years ago. Ramon’s brothers were trying to convince him to admit he’d lied. They were running out of time to file an appeal and tempers boiled over. Delgado got roughed up by one of the older Muñoz brothers. Maria said his wife also thought he was lying and made him move out. He rents a room in DC and sees his daughter on the weekends, supervised by the wife.”
“If the wife thought he was lying, why didn’t she go to the police?”
“I asked Maria that and she said Tina Delgado was scared that ‘something bad’ would happen to her and her daughter.”
“What, like Jorge would hurt them?”
“Don’t know. Maria forgave her because she was protecting her child. I’m thinking Jorge came back after he heard about Elena to see his kid before running away.”
“Before running? Or to see her one last time because he thought he was next?”
“Don’t know. Not sure I care. All I know is that I need to talk to him.”
“If he fears for his da
ughter’s safety, he’s not going to talk to you, Paige.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “He might. If the incentive were right.”
Grayson shook his head. “No. Not gonna happen. Having to prosecute you for assault would suck.” He leaned forward, closing the space she’d put between them. “Burying you would be far worse. I didn’t save your life this morning to watch you throw it away on some ill-conceived excuse for a plan. You run out of here half-cocked and whoever started the job in the garage this morning might just finish it.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts, a stubborn look on her face, but he could see his words had hit their mark. Her dark eyes churned and her chest rose and fell with the measured breaths she took. “Then what’s your plan, Counselor?”
An image flickered in front of his eyes, and the breaths he took were far from measured. Black hair stark against his pillow. Black eyes churning with need. All that lovely golden skin. He pushed the image aside by deliberately remembering his hands applying pressure to her sliced throat. Her blood soaking her red coat.
“To send someone whose face isn’t all over the TV. You’re too recognizable. You show up asking questions and we show our hand. You might as well go to the cops right now, because you’d be doing the same thing.”
She shook her head. “If I was going to any other neighborhood, that would be true, but I can visit the Muñoz house while I’m there. Pay my respects. I was with Elena when she died. Nobody will think a thing about my going there tonight.”
“And the target on your head?” he demanded. “Did you forget about that?”
She rocked up on her toes, bringing her close enough that he could count each eyelash. “Of course not,” she hissed. “I’m not stupid. The sooner I find out who put Delgado up to lying, the sooner the target comes off my head and I can go back to my regularly scheduled life, already in progress. Otherwise I might as well change my name, don a hooded robe, and move to a convent in Tibet, because my own life won’t be worth a damn. It’s not the greatest life going, but it’s mine and I aim to keep it.”
He slowly straightened. Of all people, he understood what it was like to have to hide from someone bound and determined to kill him. It was why he and his mother had run away. Why they’d taken new names. He’d spent a lifetime looking over his shoulder. They hadn’t deserved it nearly thirty years ago. Paige didn’t deserve it now.
“You’re right,” he murmured.
She eased back as well, suspicious. “I am?”
“Yes. You can’t hide forever. We need to know. Sooner versus later and before Delgado goes under. Get your things. We’ll take my car.”
She hesitated. “Wait. What? You’re coming with me?”
“You’re not going alone. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s how I roll.”
She regarded him warily. “Okay. But you’ll have to stay in the car with Peabody.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Now you’re bordering on stupid, Paige.”
“I’m serious. If someone sees you, they’ll remember the trial. If they see us together, they’ll know something is afoot.”
“Afoot? Really?” Despite everything, his lips twitched and a moment later hers were twitching, too.
“I read too many detective stories,” she confessed and he was charmed.
“Well, be that as it may, I’m not staying in the car. We’ll have to find another explanation for our mutual presence.”
“Oh, I can think of one,” a woman drawled behind them. He and Paige turned to find Lisa watching them, the expression on her face putting him on instant alert. “Before you two go playing Holmes and Watson, you need to take a look at this. Follow me.”
Tuesday, April 5, 5:25 p.m.
“I won’t leave you. Don’t make me leave you.”
Jorge Delgado gathered his sobbing wife in his arms. “Only for a little while,” he said softly, holding back his own anguish. “Only until it’s safe.”
“I have waited, for six years. I thought that soon… that you could come home. That we could stop living this lie. Then Elena had to go and do what she did. Damn her soul.”
Jorge wiped the tears from her face. “Don’t ever say that. You can’t say that. If it had been me that was accused and rotting in prison, would you ever have given up?”
“No. But she’s dead for nothing. And now he’s going to finally kill you, too.”
“No, because I’m going to hide. And you and CeCe are going away, where it’s safe.” He took off the chain he wore around his neck and fastened it around hers. At the end of the chain was a key. “I’ve already mailed the account number for the safe-deposit box to where you’re going. If anything happens to me, you open this box.”
Tina began to cry again. “Jorge, please, don’t make me go.”
He grasped her shoulders. “For CeCe, you’ll go. I’ll find a way to contact you. Make sure she knows I love her. Tell her every day. Tell her I did the best that I knew how.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Good. Now dry your eyes, my love. You’ve got one more performance and it’s got to be good enough to fool CeCe and the neighborhood.”
She straightened her back, pasted a disapproving frown on her face. “CeCe,” she called impatiently. “We have to go. It’s getting late.”
CeCe came down the stairs, a sullen frown on her face. “I don’t wanna go to Grandma’s for dinner. There’s nothing to do there and she always makes me eat eggs.”
“Listen to your mother,” Jorge said, more sharply than he’d planned to. His heart was breaking and it was all he could do to hide his misery. His baby wasn’t going to Grandma’s. She wasn’t going for dinner. She was going far away, maybe forever, with only the clothes on her back. To keep her safe. Everything was to keep her safe.
Nobody could suspect that his wife and child were running for their lives.
Chastised, CeCe lowered her gaze. “I wish you could come with us.”
Jorge dropped to his knee and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. “Cecilia, my baby. Remember that I love you always. Now, you be good for your mama.” He let her go and buckled her into her booster seat, then watched the only woman he’d ever loved get behind the wheel and drive away.
Tuesday, April 5, 5:30 p.m.
Grayson at her side, Paige followed Lisa into the kitchen, where delightful aromas filled the air. A lean man wearing a Ravens cap backward was icing a tall, three-tiered cake, while Holly kneaded a large lump of what looked like white paste.
“This is my husband, Brian,” Lisa said.
Brian gave Paige a measuring glance. “Pleased to meet you, Paige.”
“Likewise,” Paige said slowly. “Thank you for the food. It was delicious.”
“Hi, Paige,” Holly sang. Then she grinned cagily. “Hi, Grayson,” she added slyly.
“Hi, Holly,” Paige said, then turned to Grayson. “What is this?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “But I don’t think it’s good.”
“That would depend entirely on your point of view,” Lisa said. “You’re not going to be happy, I imagine. Your mother, on the other hand, will be ecstatic.” She turned on the TV. “I started recording as soon as they mentioned your names.”
“Oh no.” Paige’s heart started to pound. There she was on the TV screen again, but this time in the parking garage. The shot was from far away and very off center, but there was no mistaking that it was her. “No, no, no.”
“Oh God,” Grayson murmured.
Brian came to stand behind Lisa, resting his hands on her shoulders. “This isn’t the part that Grayson’s mother will like,” he said to Paige, then bent to his wife’s ear, his tone chiding. “You make Judy sound like a sadist.”
Lisa’s reply was lost as Paige recoiled at the sight of a knife at her own throat, at her desperate struggle to get away. Her hand lifted to her bandage of its own accord.
“Why? How can they do this?” She looked up at Gr
ayson, whose face was dark with fury, both on the TV and in real life. On-screen, he’d just knocked the guy down. In real life, he looked like he wanted to do the same to Radcliffe.
“That’s why Radcliffe wanted a comment, outside the hospital,” he said.
“They were there in the garage the whole time.”
“And they never called for help,” Grayson said coldly. “And they don’t even get the bastard’s face.” He shook his head in disgust as the attacker ran away.
“At least they don’t show me bleeding.” That had been edited, cutting to Grayson pressing his tie to her throat to stem the blood flow. “That tie looks expensive.”
“It was,” he muttered. “Lisa, exactly which part of this will have my mother ecstatic?”
“Wait for it.…” On-screen, Grayson lifted Paige’s head to his thigh. “Right about now.”
Paige heard him utter an oath, but she didn’t look away from the TV. His expression was ferocious as he tended her wound, but at the same time tender. She watched, knowing what was coming but still feeling a thrill when he bent to whisper in her ear. Then stroked her hair. Then her face.
There was something in his expression. Something sweet. Unexpected.
“That’s what your mother will like,” Lisa said, satisfied. “It’s about time.”
The clip ended and Phin Radcliffe was back on-screen. “State’s Attorney Grayson Smith declined to comment other than to say he was in the right place at the right time. I’m sure Paige Holden agrees, and so do I. Miss Holden had no comment, but we here at the station wish her a speedy recovery. This is Phin Radcliffe reporting.”
Lisa turned off the TV and the only sound in the kitchen was Holly’s rhythmic kneading of the doughy paste on the table. The silence was charged. Awkward.
Paige chanced a glance up at Grayson. He stared straight ahead, not looking back at her. So she kept her tone light. “At least now you don’t have to stay in the car.”
“That’s not funny,” he ground out and she fought the urge to flinch. He was angry. Very angry. And horrified. The anger she could understand. The horror hurt.