No One Left to Tell

by Karen Rose

  And then it was quiet, the only sound the crackle of flames.

  Grayson lifted his head, stared into her dark eyes, wide with terror. Glazed with shock. Together they labored for air.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked when he could speak.

  She shook her head. “Your back.”

  “I’m all right.”

  She closed her eyes and tears seeped from the corners. She was trembling, her hands convulsively gripping his shirt. He pushed himself to his knees beside her. Saw with new horror that the grass around them was on fire.

  “Get up. We have to move.” Wincing, he forced his body to rise. She came to her feet with the same fluidity he’d seen when she’d taken Rex McCloud down a few pegs.

  Had Rex arranged this? Or his grandparents? Or even Anderson?

  Grayson grabbed her hand and together they began to move, not stopping until they were standing in a small copse of trees, away from the blaze. Luckily the ground was wet from all the rain. The fire wasn’t spreading their way.

  Paige slid to the ground, her back against one of the trees. “He warned you?”

  “Yes. It was the intruder. From last night. And I still can’t see his face in my mind.”

  She’d closed her eyes, her hands flexing and clenching. Calming herself. “Call him back. Check your log.”

  Shit. I should have thought of that. But his thoughts were coming in uncoordinated fits and spurts, his heart still pounding like a wild thing in his chest. He followed her lead, controlling his breathing until his hands had stopped shaking enough to pat his pockets for his phone.

  It wasn’t there. Balefully he glared up at the burning car. “I must have dropped it when we ran. I’ll have to wait till the fire cools and hope it’s not melted.”

  “If it is, the phone company will have the record. It’s okay, Grayson. We’re okay.”

  They were alive, he thought grimly, watching the car burn. They were far from okay.

  “He had your cell phone number,” she murmured. “I don’t even have your cell phone number.”

  He frowned. “That I can fix.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Who do you give your cell out to?”

  Oh. “Not many people. Family. A few friends. Colleagues. Cops. Lawyers.”

  “Any of them could have given it to someone else,” she said thinly.

  “But he called me by name.”

  “True. But anyone would know your name if they read the paper.”

  “Brittany knew this would happen. She set us up,” he said and Paige nodded.

  “She kept us there while whoever did that”—she pointed at the car up on the road, still burning—“planted the bomb.”

  Fury boiled in his gut. “Crystal’s little sister just crossed a big line. Blackmail was bad enough, but attempted murder…”

  She brought his clenched fist to her lips. “It seems you’ve saved my life again.” She looked up at him. “What do you have planned for tomorrow? Today will be a hard act to top.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed. And if he sounded a little hysterical, then so be it.

  Wednesday, April 6, 11:50 p.m.

  Silas looked down at Kapansky’s body. A well-placed bullet in his temple had ended the man’s thrashing. He couldn’t leave the body here. His employer had sent Kapansky to finish him off. If he believed he’d succeeded, even for a little while, Silas would be able to move about more freely.

  I’ll be able to hunt him down. Take him by surprise.

  Quickly he gathered his tools and Kapansky’s guns and stowed them in the back of his van. Then he dragged Kapansky’s body through the woods. He’d left a trail in the dirt, but he couldn’t help that now.

  Kapansky had a vehicle, but he didn’t have time to look for it. This place would be swarming with law enforcement in minutes. He put Kapansky’s body in the back of his van, covered him with a paint-stained tarp, slammed the doors, and drove away.

  When he’d gone far enough, he pulled over. His heart still pounded.

  Had he called Grayson in time? He’d heard the blast, seen the fireball. Had they gotten out? He’d done the best he could. They were on their own for now.

  Would he have warned them had he not gotten Rose and Violet to safety?

  He wasn’t proud of his answer. Because he knew it would have been no.

  Pushing the well-deserved self-loathing aside, he opened the flip phone he’d found in Kapansky’s pocket. In the call log was a familiar number. Zero surprise there.

  Silas had been sent to kill Grayson and Paige, but it was a double trap. Even if he’d failed, Kapansky had already planted his bomb, so Grayson and Paige would have been dead anyway. And then Kapansky got to kill me.

  You were free. Silas imagined Kapansky had dreamed of the day he could take him out. Too bad the ex-con had savored the moment a little too long. He’d dropped his guard, just enough. He got cocky. And I got lucky.

  Silas couldn’t expect his luck to hold out for too much longer. On Kapansky’s phone, he texted a short message to the familiar number. Both jobs done. Unless Kapansky had been expected to call in personally, that should buy some time. He needed his employer to think he was dead. Hopefully the arrogant SOB would drop his guard, too.

  Silas removed the batteries on both Kapansky’s phone and his own business cell, then removed the chips, just to be certain. No one would be able to track him now. He needed to get rid of the body.

  Then he needed to go to sleep, for just a little while. When he made his move, he needed his mind clear, his hand steady, and his trigger finger ready.

  Wednesday, April 6, 11:58 p.m.

  His cell buzzed in his pants pocket. That should be Kapansky, reporting in. He folded his napkin, smiling at the other faces around his table. “I’m going to have a smoke. No, no, don’t get up. I’ll be right back.”

  He strolled out to his terrace, closing the French doors behind him. He lit a cigarette and took a single drag. Surreptitiously he checked his phone. Both jobs done. Excellent. Grayson Smith and Paige Holden could no longer dig into things that were better left untouched.

  Silas was no longer a threat.

  Brittany Jones had done her job, keeping Smith and Holden in the nursing home long enough for Kapansky to plant his device.

  Now he could kill her. He took another long drag on the cigarette, then set it on the balcony railing. He searched his other messages, pleased when a new text came in, exactly as anticipated. Calls to the Carrollwood Nursing Home were made from the Donnybrook Hotel, Dunkirk, NY.

  It had taken his resource at the phone company less than ten minutes to pinpoint Brittany’s location from the cell towers, even simpler as she’d stopped for the evening. Lugging a kid around made everything harder. Luckily Brittany wouldn’t have that worry for much longer. Brittany wouldn’t be worrying about anything for much longer.

  He texted Kapansky. Proceed. Donnybrook Hotel, Dunkirk, NY.

  Thursday, April 7, 12:30 a.m.

  Stevie slammed her car door, her fury still fresh. Seeing the charred remains of Grayson’s car sent her temper boiling even higher. They’d have been dead.

  Her heart was still stuck in her throat. She had a handful of friends who had been part of her and Paul’s circle. J.D. was one. Grayson another. They’d held her hand in the days after Paul’s murder. Kept her sane.

  Not having Grayson in her life… Stevie couldn’t, wouldn’t even think of it.

  She stopped at the still-smoking car, flashing her badge when one of the local cops approached. “Detective Mazzetti,” she said. “Baltimore PD.”

  “Smith and Holden are in the back of my squad car. CSU has something for you.” The cop pointed to the CSU van parked over the hill. “They’re over there.”

  “We appreciate you allowing us in,” Stevie said to him. This area was way out of their jurisdiction. “Smith said he was okay when I talked to him.” On a phone he’d had to borrow from one of the first responders,
as his own was somewhere in the twisted wreckage. He’d made it out, but it had been too close. “Is he really all right?”

  “A few cuts and scratches, bumps and bruises. His suit’s seen better days.”

  “He has a million others just like it,” Stevie said, relieved. “Thanks.” She found CSU’s Drew Peterson with a guy wearing a white cover-up. “What do you have?”

  Drew pointed to the man beside him. “Detective Mazzetti, Art Donovan, Bombs.”

  “This one was planted under the car,” Donovan said. “Held in place magnetically. It’s a pretty common design. Used a tilt fuse. Mercury.”

  “So the car drives, jostles,” Stevie said. “The mercury rolls from one end of the tube to the other, where the wires are. Burns the coating off the wires, sends the spark to the explosive device, then… pow.”

  “Exactly.” Donovan held out his gloved hand, a small clock in his palm. “This one also had a timing device. The bomb was activated, but delayed. Probably so that the bomber could escape undetected. The prosecutor and the PI are damn lucky.”

  Her heart fluttered again. “I know. Any idea who might have done this?”

  “Somebody who knew his stuff.” Donovan shrugged. “These days that could be any teenager with an Internet connection. I’ve got a list of perps who’ve used this type of bomb in the past. I’ll e-mail it to you.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” She turned back to Drew Peterson when Donovan walked away. “Can we narrow down where the mercury in the tilt fuse came from?”

  “We can try, but I wouldn’t count on it. It’s not something you’re gonna find in the store, but if someone wants it bad enough, there are plenty of back-alley sources. It’s just as likely it came from an old instrument or thermometer someone had lying around.”

  “Shit,” Stevie muttered.

  “We did find other stuff, though,” Drew went on. “Back by the nursing home where the shot was fired.”

  “The shot that had Grayson and Paige fleeing the scene,” she said. “Did you find the cartridge?”

  “No, but something went on there,” Drew said. “There was a struggle. One person lost a lot of blood and was dragged away. The trail ends at an access road. There’s evidence a large vehicle was parked there, probably a van. No decent tire prints.”

  “Two people were there,” Stevie mused. “Grayson said the sniper told him he’d deliberately missed. He was the one who warned Grayson, so I assume the second guy planted the bomb. I wonder, which one went down? Bomber or sniper? Did you get blood samples?”

  “That wasn’t a problem. There was a lot of blood.”

  “We’ve got four dead and someone trying to blow up a state’s attorney. When can I have DNA?”

  He shrugged. “Best I can promise is a twenty-four-hour turnaround.”

  “Fine,” she said grudgingly. “We’ll compare results to DNA samples in the database and to Donovan’s bomb perps. Hope we get a match. What else?”

  “A car, stolen plates.” His brows lifted. “Explosive residue in the trunk.”

  “So the sniper won. The bloody bomber got dragged away or he’d have driven his own car instead of leaving it with detectable explosives in the damn trunk.”

  “That was my take. We’ll take the car in, dust it for prints, vacuum for hair. And hope to hell this guy left something. I’ll let you know when I find anything else.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to talk to Grayson now. When I’m done with him, I’ll get down to the nursing home to check out the scene of the shooting. Thanks, Drew.”

  She gave him a wave and made her way to the squad car where Grayson sat with Paige in the backseat. He had a gash on his forehead that had been butterfly bandaged. She was wrapped in a blanket, her head on his shoulder. The bandage at her throat was bright white, probably freshly changed by the paramedics.

  His arm was around her, holding on tight. Both looked grim. Stevie slid in the cruiser’s front seat. “We have to stop meeting like this,” she said lightly.

  Grayson didn’t smile. “I know him, Stevie. I can’t figure it out. It’s making me crazy.”

  “I called IA on my way over. They don’t have voice samples yet. Or so they say.”

  He met her eyes and in his she saw controlled rage. And a healthy amount of fear that she suspected was mostly for Paige. “What did CSU find?”

  She told him about the bomb and the scene of the struggle she’d assumed was bomber versus sniper. She probably shouldn’t have done so in front of Paige, but Stevie figured the woman had earned information. “I’ll let you know when I know more. In the meantime, I’ll start a trace on the number that called you. We can pull it from your phone records if you give us permission.” When he only nodded, Stevie studied his haunted eyes. “You think you might have tugged the tiger’s tail by talking to Rex McCloud?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But it was Brittany Jones who made sure we were stalled in the nursing-home lobby while the bomb was set.”

  “The sister of Crystal who gave you interesting evidence.” Stevie rolled her eyes, frustrated. “Which was in an envelope, which was in the car when it blew sky high.”

  He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. I went home to walk Paige’s dog and put the envelope in my safe. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

  “Brittany connects to the sniper, who doesn’t seem to snipe all that well.” Paige forced a small smile. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  “He said he tried to miss,” Grayson said. “Said if he’d wanted to hit me, I would have been dead.”

  “He snipes really well when it counts,” Stevie said. “He hit Elena Muñoz and not you, Paige. Why didn’t he shoot you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve wondered about that a lot. He could have taken me out and pumped a second bullet into Elena before anyone even knew what happened.”

  Grayson made a low sound of rage and Paige patted his knee comfortingly, meeting his eyes. “But he didn’t,” Paige whispered. “He didn’t kill me and he deliberately missed you today. He saved our lives with that call, Grayson. We need to know why.”

  The temperature in the car seemed to climb a few degrees. Stevie cleared her throat and the two stopped staring at each other and looked back at her.

  “Thank you,” Stevie said dryly. “Elena connects to Sandoval and to Delgado. Logan and his mother connect to the sniper through the video. How does Brittany connect?”

  “She may have taken money from the same person who paid Sandoval,” Paige said. “He’s a connection. We told Brittany that people who’d been involved in the case were being killed. Maybe she offered up Grayson and me to keep the payer of fifty Gs happy and not killing her.”

  “Or her child,” Grayson added. “Her child is important to her.”

  “I’ll put out a BOLO on Brittany and her kid. Hopefully she’ll turn up.”

  “Alive,” Paige muttered.

  “That would be ideal,” Stevie said. “You guys look pretty bedraggled. You’re staying at the Peabody, Paige?”

  “That’s where my overnight bag is. Shit. My backpack was in the car.”

  “I’m sorry,” Grayson murmured. “Your laptop, too.”

  “I know. At least I back up nightly, so I didn’t lose much data. But my makeup bag was in there, too. I know that sounds dumb to worry over, but damn. I had a lot of time invested in buying all that makeup.”

  “We’ll get you some more,” Stevie said. “My sister, Izzy, collects makeup samples every time they have one of those promotions at the department store.”

  For a moment Paige looked like she’d refuse. Then she inclined her head. “That would be very kind of your sister to do. Thank you.”

  “You guys go clean up. I’ll have one of these officers drive you back to the city.”

  “You’ll call when you know anything about the shooter or the bomber?” Grayson asked.

  “Absolutely. We’ll get to the bottom of this, Grayson.”

  His lips thinned. “I’m goi
ng to hold you to that.”

  Sixteen

  Thursday, April 7, 1:45 a.m.

  Grayson hadn’t let her go, not once since the medics had bandaged them up. One of Paige’s stitches had ripped out when they’d rolled over the embankment. When he covered me with his body. Protecting me once again.

  The medic told her to go to the ER, but this time Grayson hadn’t forced her to go, much to her relief. She couldn’t take several hours in a small white room.

  Now they sat in the back of a cruiser on their way to Grayson’s town house, his arm locked around her shoulder. She lifted a trembling hand to the bandage on his forehead. She couldn’t make herself go to the ER, but he should have gone.

  “You should have let them take you,” she murmured.

  “I wasn’t going without you.” He pressed a hard kiss to her temple with a dark desperation she understood, because she felt it, too.

  Before… it was just me. Now he was in danger, too. She turned her face into his chest. Underneath the smell of smoke was his scent and she breathed it in. His arm tightened and they steeped in each other until the cruiser stopped outside his house.

  The officer turned to look over at the backseat. “I’ll come in, check out the place.”

  “That’s okay,” Grayson said. “I have a good security system and she has a big dog.”

  “The Rottie,” the officer said. “I see him through the side window. Nice-looking animal. You two take care.”

  The town house was quiet. Peabody stood in the foyer, head cocked slightly. Alert.

  “Good boy,” Paige said and the dog relaxed. Grayson disarmed the alarm, flipped on the lights. Everything was how they’d left it. She went to the study door. Everything was in place, including the photos on the shelf over his desk. Including the one that he hadn’t wanted her to see. The one of a little boy and his smiling mother.

  She turned to find him watching her, eyes stark. “I thought I could keep you safe,” he whispered fiercely. “I need you safe.”

  “You did.” She went to him. “You have. Every time someone or something’s come at me, you’ve protected me. It’s been a long time since anyone has done that.”