.38 Caliber Cover-Up

by Angi Morgan

  “I came to rescue you before my father tried to get you into that balloon again.” She gave her father a somewhat reserved kiss on the cheek. “Did you tell the man all our family secrets, Dad?”

  “You know me better than that, my girl.”

  “I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to worry.” She left marching in double time.

  Sergeant Major stroked his cheek where his “girl” had planted her kiss.

  “She’ll be safe. You have my word.” He said the words, hit by another compulsion to assure the older man his daughter would be protected.

  Granted, he’d never been in this type of situation before. But he didn’t give his word lightly…at least not to honest men.

  He had to run to catch up with her. It might have been awkward making their way through the crowd, but most participants were inflating their balloons and were too busy to notice. No cops in sight. She retrieved everything from her car, including the notebook with her accounting of their activities, and nodded toward the monster truck to the left.

  “What was that all about?” she asked when they had safely left the park.

  “You tell me. He’s your father.”

  “Which speech did he give you? Wait, I don’t want to know.”

  “Is that the way he treats all your prospective boyfriends?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Connor brought home a girlfriend while we were stationed in Germany. The Sergeant Major interrogated her throughout dinner regarding her family history. After that, the rest of us decided it was safer to skip the meet-the-parent introduction.”

  “You have a third brother? Are there any more O’Malleys hanging from the eaves?”

  “He’s a career marine who volunteered for a third tour to Afghanistan.” Her voice trailed off to a soft mumble. “Daunting possibilities and odds.”

  An unusual saying for a family.

  “Your father wanted to make certain you’d be safe.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said adamantly. Her voice stronger, her fists wrapped tighter on the steering wheel.

  “I know. So does he.”

  Whatever strange relationship the O’Malleys had with one another, at least they had one. His lack of family made him the perfect agent. Perfect that no one would miss him if something happened. Perfect to risk everything and not think about the consequences.

  Darby had too much to lose.

  He reached for the charm still in his pocket. He took it out and placed the single memory he carried back on display.

  “Why the dangly necklace?” she asked.

  So she was done talking about her father. She could change the subject to him. He’d let her…until the next red light.

  “It represents the reason I became a cop.”

  “It’s a dagger.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean you wanted to be a pirate when you grew up?” She grinned a beautiful smile. The same one she’d given him after their kiss.

  It wasn’t the right time to tell her his life story. Family and undercover work aside… It was time to find out why Pike had sent him to this woman. Past time to fulfill his promise and move on.

  “Where’s the package, Darby?”

  It was obvious to him she debated what to say. Her mouth opened and closed several times, she bit her lip then chewed on it. She nervously tapped her forefinger—if there had been a pen in her hand, she probably would have done that twirly thing again.

  “You might as well announce to the world that you’re about to lie.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Now that’s not fair. I asked you first.”

  No grin this time. No teasing, just stalling. Again.

  “And I asked you second. What does that have to do with anything? Are we twelve? People in our line of work lie all the time.”

  There it was again. The slight catch in her breath. The dart of a look—definitely away from him. Chewing on her lip. Pike had said O’Malley was one of the best-trained agents he had, but man, she was totally off her game around him. Perhaps that kiss had distracted them both.

  Nice information to stow away for later. Right now, she was driving north with a purpose. No meandering or random turns. She knew where they were going. She wasn’t saying.

  “No more games.” He hated being out of control.

  “I’m not playing games—”

  “Give it up. I know you aren’t telling me something.” Was she afraid he’d ditch her after he retrieved the information? Would he? Naw. Not unless the situation turned into something more dangerous than picking up a package.

  “I want to have a look at Pike’s place,” she finally admitted.

  “Come on, O’Malley. You know the package could potentially help Michael.” How? He didn’t know, but he’d surmised that was the reason she wanted to hang on to it as badly as he wanted to turn it over to the DEA. “Obtaining the information will answer your questions. Or is that what you’re afraid of?”

  “We’re almost to Pike’s house. Let’s take a look and then talk more about him.” Her body tensed behind the wheel. She didn’t lie well, but she damn well could keep a secret.

  A trait that just made him want to kiss her more. Dammit. That shouldn’t happen again. Shouldn’t…but it would.

  They’d left the city behind. The small town of Allen had exploded since the last time he’d been this direction, but it still had that country atmosphere where Sean’s truck was one of many that looked exactly the same.

  Darby kept her ideas close, but borrowing this Chevy seemed to be a good addition to the plan. They drove past the last fast-food shack and into a residential area. His stomach gave a low growl. He hadn’t eaten since the two drive-by burritos the previous day and the Sergeant Major hadn’t offered a cup from his thermos of coffee.

  And what about Super Cop over there? Food had to be on her agenda soon. No? She kept driving.

  No food for the time being. The subdivision was filled with cul-de-sacs—no easy way to case a house. The truck slowed and she snapped the blinker to turn onto a residential street.

  “Don’t park in front. We don’t want to compromise this vehicle.”

  “Got it,” she answered, making the turn.

  “This isn’t a good idea.” Saying the words out loud didn’t make him less culpable. “The place is probably being watched. If not by the cops, then by a helpful neighbor. And if not by him, don’t forget the sons of bitches that murdered Pike and are looking for the same information we are.”

  “It’s necessary.”

  She drove the cul-de-sac, making the turn and passing the houses a second time. He didn’t spot any obvious cars. At least not like the one parked outside Darby’s place.

  “Which house is his?”

  “It’s in the middle of the block, south side, rear-entry garage across the alley from a school parking lot. We could pull around back.”

  “Right. And no one will notice we don’t have any kids. We can park with the teachers.”

  The line of cars arriving at the school was getting longer. When it was their turn to pull into the lot, the flashing sign in front said, “Welcome to Grandparents’ Day.” These people weren’t leaving. If something went wrong…

  “Aw, hell. This is not good.”

  “Pike complained every morning about the traffic the elementary school added to the neighborhood. He was never here after his wife Marilyn died, but still complained.” She parked in the lot and opened the glove compartment, retrieving the guns she’d placed there earlier. “Here, I hope you don’t need this.”

  The 9mm SIG slid across his palm. In three efficient moves, he had the ammo checked, the safety off, and the gun covered with his shirt. Darby did the same with her service weapon. They walked along a sidewalk running parallel to the houses. Cars pulled behind them into parking spaces. At the end of the block more cars lined the street—a steady stream of parents and children.r />
  Fields of farmland surrounded the school. Each house had an identical fence surrounding each yard with a driveway funneling to a garage door. A perfect cross-fire area.

  Lots of fences. Extremely high fences.

  “If I were looking for you, I’d be camped behind those six-foot hide-a-bad-guy-boards, with a barrel pointed straight at your heart.”

  The words didn’t faze her. Well, maybe a little. She adjusted the Glock at the small of her back. Darby nodded toward a driveway. He had that strange knot in his gut again and they both pulled their guns.

  Darby altered her path toward the gate and he pivoted, watching their backs, looking at a lot of civilians behind them. The garage door opened and he spun again, aiming his weapon at the empty space.

  His partner stood by the keypad and shrugged. “I took a guess it was his badge number.”

  “I was thinking we’d make a quieter entrance, maybe through a window? If there is anyone in the house, they know we’re here.”

  He led the way, entering the back hallway and laundry room, stopping every few feet to listen. Darby followed. There weren’t any unusual sounds, but everything had been searched. Every picture was off the wall. Every cover ripped from its cushion. Every desk drawer emptied and broken in frustration.

  Plant roots were torn from the dirt, the pots shattered on the tabletop. There was no pretext this was a robbery. Photos were ripped from their sticky-backed albums. Someone had destroyed the peace of a dead man’s home.

  “Pike’s entire life is in here somewhere,” Darby said as they cleared the second bedroom and headed into the kitchen. “I feel sorry for the person who has to sort and clean up all this mess.”

  “That would be me.”

  Even the food from the fridge had been dumped on the floor. What were they searching for inside food containers? Just how big was this package?

  “You’re the executor? Sorry. I didn’t realize you were that close to… I mean, you said Pike was a friend.”

  “A very good friend.” A second father. She couldn’t know that. No one knew. Maybe not even Pike.

  He was only slightly familiar with this side of his mentor’s life. He had known Marilyn from a distance, but had mourned her loss with her husband.

  “This doesn’t feel right.” He lowered his voice to draw her closer in case someone was still in the house.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean these guys are cops. Dirty cops, but smart or they wouldn’t have gotten away with whatever they’re doing. They’ve covered their tracks and no one knows they exist. No one except us. They’ve had almost two weeks to ransack the place since Pike was murdered. Why search through everything this morning?”

  Her eyebrow shot up, questioning his assumption as she stepped over frozen entrées and trays of ice cubes.

  “The ice is still melting.” There was something. That little nag. The thing he should never ignore pricked at the back of his neck.

  “How long does it take for ice to melt?” she whispered.

  “Out. Back to the truck.” He stepped in front of her, as a pftt sounded nearby, breaking a window. “Get down.”

  Another silenced bullet broke a decorative plate still hanging on the wall. He dropped, planting his body face-first into the mess on the kitchen floor.

  Multiple shots poured through the window. His new partner used his back as a springboard to sprint after the shooter.

  “Darby, wait!” He watched the bottoms of her shoes rapidly move through the hallway toward the garage before he could follow. He heard the gate to the backyard slam from the perp’s departure.

  “Damn it, woman, you’re gonna get me killed.”

  Chapter Five

  “O’Malley, wait!” Erren shouted from somewhere behind Darby.

  When he’d fallen to the ground, she’d caught an image through the kitchen window. Erren had been right about the danger hiding behind those fences and she’d been wrong to go through the garage door. When would she stop making stupid moves?

  “O’Malley, there’re too many!”

  She knew. There were too many around her to discharge a weapon. Too many risks. Too many civilians. Too many children.

  “Police. Out of the way. Stay in your cars!” she yelled as she ran, weaving between parked vehicles and others trying to find a spot.

  A woman screamed. A kid cried. Parents froze, hugging their children. She had to push her way around them. It slowed her pursuit.

  The perp reached his vehicle, turned and fired at least two shots. Darby hit the pavement behind an empty town car. Blind to what the perp was doing. Listening.

  Metal pings confirmed additional shots. A window shattered. More screams. A door slammed.

  “O’Malley!” Erren shouted. “He’s in his truck. Get out of there!”

  “He’ll get away.” She couldn’t let the only lead she had to Michael’s freedom escape.

  She jumped to her feet. The perp was in a navy blue Ford F-150, but the exit was blocked by the flow of traffic. She ran toward his vehicle.

  “Navy F-150,” she said, repeating the information out loud. A trick she’d learned in the academy to help herself remember while on the run. “License FT3… I can’t see the rest.”

  It seemed like forever, but she got a good view of the driver when he turned his head to look behind him. “Graying hair, rounded chin, no distinguishing features, longish sideburns, high forehead.”

  The Ford started moving. Backward. There was another exit on the far side of the school. She tried to pick the best path in order to follow.

  “You can’t catch him on foot. Toss me the keys, Darby. Then get in.” Erren was at Sean’s truck. “We don’t have time for a debate.”

  She threw the keys, which he caught one-handed. The truck was unlocked, started, windows down and in gear by the time she put her foot on the running rail.

  “Buckle up,” he said.

  She caught gleaming eyes through his pirate-loose hair. Clearly, he was eager to pursue the escaping ship on the high seas.

  Except the high seas happened to be an elementary school at drop-off time. They hopped the curb, weaving the wrong way through the ocean of cars. She snapped the seat belt.

  “Were you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?” he accused, almost shouting, as if she were hard of hearing.

  “Are you planning on heading him off?” She pointed. “He went the other direction, behind the school.”

  “We’ll be in front of him when he hits the east side.” He drove onto the sidewalk to avoid three cars parked on the street. And swerved again into the field to miss the parents rooted to the ground.

  “And just what did I do wrong this time?”

  “For starters—”

  They hit a bump, knocking her teeth into her sinuses.

  “You took after that guy without your backup.”

  “I heard you behind me. Watch out!” She pointed to a fire hydrant.

  When the Ford rounded the south side of the school on the delivery drive, it hesitated a second before joining them on the sidewalk, facing them, directly in their path.

  “This is not the place for a game of chicken,” she said.

  Her panic at how Erren would handle the situation fizzled as the Ford coming straight at them veered into a small ditch and made a U-turn into the cornfield, promptly disappearing within the wave of stalks. Thirty seconds later, the chase began for real.

  “How can we catch him through all this corn?” She retrieved a partial ear that had flown into her lap and tossed it back out the window.

  “It’s not like he can lose us. This is a trail Hansel and Gretel could follow.”

  Erren raced the truck forward, staying on the makeshift road as closely as possible. Cornstalks slid past her window while others crunched under the tires. The seat belts barely held them in place. Darby bounced, almost hitting the ceiling of the cab. She pulled her belt tighter and did the same for her partner.

  “This is entirely dif
ferent from four-wheeling in an army tank with my brother Connor—which officially never happened.”

  Was that a harrumph or a bit of laughter? Perhaps he wasn’t as angry with her now.

  A dirt road emerged from the sea of green and gold.

  “Finally,” she said with a sigh of relief.

  The hay harvester appeared in the corn-free tunnel at the exact moment as Erren was to hit the road.

  The seat belt locked into place as Erren slammed the brakes and skidded to a halt with no traction, only agricultural product under his tires. His fast reaction kept the Chevy from plowing straight into the tremendous vehicle, which would have made sheet metal out of Sean’s truck.

  “Damn it.” Erren’s fists hit the wheel. “Of all the rotten timing.”

  They ended their Hansel-and-Gretel trek stuck to the east of the farming implement, with the Ford speeding away to the west, a dirt trail billowing in its wake.

  “Maybe it’s not too late. Back into the cornfield and go around this guy.” But even saying the words as Erren put the pickup in gear, she didn’t believe they’d see that blue truck again. On the other side of the railway tracks, about half a mile down the road, was the city of Allen and an unlimited number of Ford F-150s.

  Police or rogue pursuit?

  “We’ve avoided the cops, but can’t keep following for long. So do you want to find the Allen P.D. or take this information back to Dallas?”

  He slowed the truck for the upcoming stop sign. “I’m getting some coffee and a couple of breakfast burritos.”

  “I have part of the license and a description. We need to report what happened and get an APB out as quickly as possible on that truck. I can go through the police files and find this guy or work with a sketch artist. What do you mean, you want to eat?”

  “Exactly what I said, Darby. I’m hungry and I’m getting coffee. Fifty cell phones dialed 911 back at that school.”

  “But we have proof. We can get help with the investigation.”

  “Not happening. We have to get out of here. They’re probably looking for this truck. Once I get the package, which I assume has evidence that can incriminate these men, maybe I’ll think about explaining my presence to the locals. Best-case scenario, I’ll be headed back to San Antonio in a couple of days.”