“Not a damn thing,” Connor added. “Frustrating as hell.”
Juan leaned his elbows on his desk. His hands were sweating as he clasped them in front of him. Vicki thought other LAPD cops could be working with Valado and if so, Milbourn, Valado’s ex-partner, would be in on it. The man sitting across from him could very well want Vicki dead. “This girl must be pretty important to bring you to Texas.”
Milbourn’s shoulders squared. “No, I’m…on vacation. Got family down here.”
“In Anniston?” Connor grabbed a pen and tapped it against his desk. Click. Click. Click.
“No, uh, Red Clay.” His voice came out tighter. “I touched base with my partner, he told me about your call. I thought why not drop by? Trever was my late partner’s sister-in-law. She ran off with his kid.”
“So a kidnapping,” he said, wondering if Milbourn would correct him. When he didn’t, Juan added, “Is the FBI on the case?” He knew they weren’t.
The question appeared to put Milbourn on edge. “This is personal for me.”
So he wouldn’t even answer. Juan straightened the files on his desk, but never broke eye contact. “I get it.”
“Yeah. I guess the drive over here was a waste of time.” Milbourn’s phone rang. He checked the screen, turned it off, then slid it back into his pocket.
“Sorry,” Juan said. “If I get anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Yeah.” Something about the way Milbourn said that one word had Juan worrying Milbourn wasn’t buying the wrong-witness story. His footsteps echoed down the hall as he left.
Mark turned around and started typing on his keyboard. Connor focused on his computer screen.
Silence filled the office. The unnatural kind. The kind that waited. Waited for the other shoe to drop with a heavy dose of truth. “I owe you an explanation,” Juan said.
“I figured you’d get around to it sooner or later.” Mark turned in his chair.
“Me too.” Connor pushed back from his desk and propped his feet up beside his keyboard.
“First, thank you.” Juan knew he’d have done the same for them, but it didn’t make it any less admirable.
“We’re a team. Always,” Mark said. “I trust that whenever I need to back either of you up, it’s for a damn good reason. Until one of you proves me wrong, that’s the way it’ll be.”
“I think that needs an amen,” Connor said.
Juan told them about how he’d found out Vicki’s real name. About calling the LAPD. About Pablo Valado faking his death. About calling Jody and her finding the logbook. And now looking into the murder of Marisol Willis.
“Do we have proof that Valado is alive?” Disbelief echoed in Connor’s tone.
“Yeah, Vicki saw him,” Juan stated with attitude.
Connor drummed his fingers on his desk. “Okay, we’ll go with that.”
Realizing he’d overreacted, Juan added, “There was some DNA found at Willis’s murder. We think it could be Valado’s. Jody’s trying to get it rushed through the system, but you know how that is.”
Mark turned around and started typing, but he tossed out another question. “So do you think the asswipe who was just here is dirty, too?”
“Yeah. It felt way off. I get wanting to help an old partner, but what he’s not saying is that Valado was a suspect for his wife’s hit-and-run death.” Juan exhaled. “I’m betting Milbourn doesn’t have any family here. He seemed to pull that out of his ass.”
“I smelled it, too,” Connor added.
Juan started trying to put the pieces together. “I told Milbourn’s partner that the witness was African American, so it couldn’t be the same person. It doesn’t even make sense that he’d come here to follow up.”
“Unless he’s desperate.” Connor dropped his feet.
Juan ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. And if he is in on it, then I led him here.”
“I don’t think it’s just you.” Mark looked over his shoulder.
“What do you mean?” Juan asked.
“I checked Red Clay’s bulletins. They’ve got your neighbor’s picture up, saying she’s a person of interest in a missing child case and might be in the area.”
“Shit.” Another dollar Juan owed Bell for the curse jar. As thoughts of Bell, innocent and afraid, whispered through his mind, it hit Juan that if Milbourn was here, Pablo could be as well. Was there any chance they knew where Vicki lived? Probably not. Or Milbourn wouldn’t have come here. But doubt, fueled by fear, expanded Juan’s rib cage. He stood and collected his gun.
“Why Red Clay?” Mark asked. “What’s her connection there?”
“I don’t know. But I’m picking up Bell early. I’ll ask Vicki when I get there.” He turned back. “I’m sending you Jody’s contact info. Can you send her a copy of the fingerprint we got off the car the perp used in the Noel shooting?”
* * *
Pablo crushed the Coke can in his hand, imagining it was Sam Milbourn’s neck, then slung it against the hotel wall. Why wasn’t that bastard taking his calls? Pablo had called more than a dozen times last night. And at least that many since his plane had landed in Houston at six this morning. The calls went straight to voice mail, with the exception of one call. It rang a few times and then got disconnected. Had Sam turned off his phone?
He grabbed his phone and dialed the number again. “Answer or you’re going to be sorry,” Pablo muttered.
Killing Jefferies had been worth it. The man didn’t know Vicki’s exact location, but he gave Pablo her number with an area code around Red Clay, Texas. He even told Pablo about the saved message from the bitch warning Jefferies to be careful. Vicki suspected he’d killed Willis. Not that it mattered. Even if she told the cops all this, Sam would put up roadblocks. And there it was, a reason he needed Sam alive.
The line rang and when it didn’t automatically go to voice mail, Pablo’s hopes rose.
Turning around, he stared at the new laptop and clicked refresh to see if his tracker picked up the man’s phone. He’d bought the laptop right after he’d left Jefferies’s body at the storage unit. He’d found a tracking site and put in both Vicki’s and Milbourn’s phones. Most people didn’t realize how easy it was to find someone through their phone. In fact, some spyware can get you within forty or fifty yards of a cell phone. Yeah, people could turn the location detector off, but most people didn’t. He was counting on the fact that Sam was one of those idiots.
It had taken him almost three hours to drive to Red Clay from Houston. Unfortunately, a flight to any smaller town close to Red Clay would have required a ten-hour delay. He’d stopped twice at restaurants with Wi-Fi to see if either of them had turned on their phones. They hadn’t.
He’d made a stop at a gun shop and bought a few weapons. A nice new Glock, a .38 Special for his ankle holster, and a knife. It was so much easier getting guns here than in California.
Funny how he felt naked without them.
Exhausted, not having slept in more than thirty-six hours, he’d gotten a hotel room. His plan had been to catch a few hours of rest while waiting for either Sam’s or Vicki’s phone to go online. He couldn’t sleep. Not knowing that bitch was so close. Not fuming over Sam’s disregard of his phone calls.
“Detective Milbourn,” Sam finally answered.
“What the fuck?” Pablo seethed. “Why haven’t you answered your damn phone?”
“This isn’t your number and…my phone barely gets service here.”
Could that be true? Sam wasn’t answering because of poor service and he didn’t recognize his number? “Where are you?” Pablo bit out.
“I’m in my car.” Both Sam’s vagueness and his tone set off more alarms.
“Where in your car?”
Sam’s hesitation gave Pablo a shot of adrenaline that fueled his suspicions.
“I’m outside a restaurant in Red Clay. I haven’t found anything yet.”
Right then the Google map appeared on Pablo’s screen, but he didn’t know the
area enough to know if the man lied without really checking the map.
“Why the fuck do I think you’re lying?”
“Because you’re paranoid,” Sam said. “Why would I lie to you?”
“Because maybe you’re thinking of stealing my money. Or you feel sorry for her.”
“I don’t want your dirty money. And I don’t even know her.” His voice again came out too high. A sign of a lie. “Why are you calling?”
“I got her number. She’s somewhere around Anniston.” Pablo kept looking at the screen, trying to see if Sam was where he said he was.
“Where did you get her number?”
Pablo stared at the Google map but couldn’t figure out what town Sam was in. “From her piece-of-shit boyfriend. She’s been calling him.”
Sam gasped. “You killed him? Fuck!”
“I had to, he’d go to the police. Plus, Vicki told him I was alive. You’re also right about her being in an abused women’s program. He couldn’t tell me which program or her location. But—”
“Damn it. I went to see Jefferies at his office. People will remember that.”
“Don’t worry, I hid his body.” Pablo kept searching the map. “Exactly where are you?”
“I have to go. I’ll call you later.” Sam hung up. Furious, Pablo dropped down on the bed and pulled the computer closer to study the map. He finally got his bearings. That fucker had lied. He wasn’t anywhere near Red Clay. He was in Anniston. Pablo caught a street name on the map and jotted it down.
Grabbing his keys and his laptop, he took off. There was a reason Sam was lying to him. And Pablo’s gut said getting to the truth would lead him to Vicki.
* * *
Juan drove ten miles over the speed limit to reach Bell. He kept telling himself he was overreacting, but he needed to lay eyes on her and know she was fine. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Milbourn showing up meant he was working with Valado. And the more he thought about that, the guiltier he felt for making that call. But maybe Mark was right. There had to be a reason Vicki’s picture appeared in a Red Clay bulletin.
Either way, he’d been the one who led Milbourn to Anniston.
Parking in front of the school twenty minutes before Bell was due to get out, Juan gave the parking lot a check before leaving his car. Not seeing anything suspicious, he proceeded to the school office.
He didn’t breathe until the office clerk said, “I’ll get someone to bring her here.”
Five minutes later, he walked to his car holding Bell’s hand and listening to her tell him about her day. The girl looked up at him with so much trust, his chest tightened. He hoped like hell he hadn’t put her in danger.
She climbed into her car seat in the back. He got behind the wheel and waited. “You buckled up?” He looked over his shoulder.
“Yes. Why am I playing hooky?”
“I figured your mom needed to see you, since she’s been in the hospital.”
She smiled. “She misses me when I’m at school.”
“I know.”
“Do you miss me, too?”
Her question almost hurt. He looked back at her and smiled. “Of course.”
Her little face beamed.
As he drove off, his cell rang. He glanced at the number. Christina. Probably checking on Vicki. “Hey.”
“Something weird happened.” Her voice was too high-pitched.
“What?”
“I got a call from a manager at Finally Fit on Main. A cop came in with a picture of Nikki. He asked the receptionist if they’d seen her.”
His hand clenched the steering wheel. “What did she tell him?”
“She gave him her address. He was a cop.”
Juan’s hand fisted around the steering wheel. “How long ago?”
“It just happened. What’s going on, Juan?”
“Have to go. I’ll call you later.”
It’d take five minutes to get to Vicki’s house. He looked back at Bell, who was distracted with pulling a book out of her backpack, and then stomped on the gas.
* * *
Vicki stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Juan should be here to deliver Bell soon, and the anxiousness she’d felt right after they’d had awesome sex had grown.
Somehow, some way, she needed to get hold of her runaway heart. Because she knew where it wanted to run. To the hope, to the fantasy of forever. Where was her cynical side that kept that dream at bay? Where was the woman who kept her guard up with men? Where was the woman who’d seen love as a weakness? A weakness that had helped destroy her mom, that had killed Alison.
A weakness that could destroy her.
Was she feeling like this just because she was emotionally vulnerable right now? Had becoming a mother awoken the more traditional dreams of happily ever after? Or was this gratitude for all he’d done?
Whatever it was, she needed to get it under control.
The doorbell rang. She hotfooted it to the dining room window, hoping to see Juan’s car.
Juan’s car wasn’t there, but an unfamiliar car was parked in the street.
A knock sounded, loud and insistent.
Fear traveled down her spine. Her hands shook.
She went into the front bedroom, where she might be able to see part of the porch.
Opening the blinds a sliver, she peered out.
She couldn’t see the tall man’s face, but she could see what he held. A smile widened her lips.
Flowers. Juan had sent flowers. Happiness filling her chest, she released the blinds and headed for the door.
* * *
Juan turned onto his street. A silver Honda sat in front of Vicki’s house. Fuck!
He spotted a man standing at Vicki’s door. Not Milbourn. He had darker hair. Pablo? He couldn’t see the guy’s face.
Juan’s pulse raced. A glance in the rearview mirror brought up a dilemma. What should he do about Bell?
“Bell? Are you a big girl?” He hit his garage opener.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“I’m going to pull into the garage. I need to talk to your mom. Can you go in my house and take care of Sweetie for me?”
“Yes.”
He parked in his garage. “We’ll be right back. Stay in the house, okay?”
“Okay.” She got out of the car.
When she disappeared inside, he slipped out the side door, grabbing his gun from his holster.
Finger on the trigger, he moved across the grass. He watched the man step around Bell’s pink bike on the front porch. He heard Vicki’s door open, and she let out a slight gasp.
Damn. He took off at a run. “Police! Don’t move.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Juan kept his finger on the trigger.
The man swung around. It wasn’t Valado.
Vicki stood in the doorway, one hand pressed to her chest. In the other hand she held a huge vase of flowers. “What are you doing?”
“Who are you?” Juan asked the man.
The man’s eyes widened in fear. “Ri-Richard Calder. I work for Yellow Rose Florist.”
“Who sent the flowers?” Juan snapped.
“Aren’t they from you?” Vicki asked.
“No.” He focused on the man. “Who sent the flowers?” His gun inched closer.
“I…just deliver them. Isn’t there a card?”
Vicki plucked the card from a plastic prong and opened it. “They’re from Cal Phillips. Bell’s friend’s father.”
Juan lowered his gun. “Sorry,” he told the guy. “You can go.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted to his car.
“Come on.” Juan holstered his gun.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
“Where’s Bell?”
“She’s there. Let’s move.” He shut her door and nudged her forward, while looking down the street for cars.
They’d barely stepped into the garage when he heard an approaching veh
icle. “Inside.” He gave her a slight push. Almost closing the door, he peered out.
A black truck, one he recognized as belonging to a teen down the street, raced past.
“What happened?” Vicki held on to the vase of flowers as if they were her lifeline. A thought snuck in between his tiers of concern. He should have sent her flowers.
“Mama!” Bell called from the doorway entering the house. “I’m hungry.”
“Let’s go inside the house,” Juan whispered, focusing on the problem at hand. Then he suddenly questioned if he should pile them in his car and get the hell out of town—or would Milbourn show up and see them? Perhaps recognize his car from the precinct?
He watched Vicki greet Bell. He hung back and called Mark to fill him in on what was happening.
“I’m on my way,” Mark said.
Juan considered that. “No. Send someone else. Plainclothes. Milbourn saw you. Just have them here in case trouble starts, and if he leaves have them follow his ass. Valado could be here.”
“Why follow him? Why don’t we grab him now?” Mark asked.
“Without proof that Valado’s alive or that Milbourn’s involved, we’ve got nothing on him. And if Milbourn knows we’ve got Vicki and Bell, he could get an L.A. judge to order them returned to California. And we couldn’t stop him.”
“You’re right,” Mark said. “What’s the plan?”
“Right now just send some backup in case Milbourn’s not alone.”
“You think Pablo’s with him?” Mark asked.
“I don’t know. But let’s get Vicki somewhere safe and we’ll figure it out.”
“Okay, I’m sending someone now. Be careful.” When Juan looked up, Vicki, still holding the flowers that should have been from him, stood in the doorway, worry etched in her expression. “Mark, I gotta go.” He hung up.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
He almost answered her, but Bell came and stood by her side. “Let’s go inside the house,” he said instead.
Vicki set the flowers on the coffee table. “Bell, watch TV. Juan and I need to have a talk.” She picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV to turn it on.
“Hi, baby girl,” Angie’s voice spilled out.
Don't Breathe a Word: Includes a bonus novella (Texas Justice Book 2) Page 27