Kelly looked mock serious. “Won’t get any argument from me on that one. I’m committed to good oral hygiene.”
Dani grinned. “So how is your dentist?”
Kelly grinned. “Showing no signs of decay.”
Dani’s grin expanded into a laugh. It felt good. It was a scientific fact. “I don’t care what anyone says about you. I think you’re a treasure.”
“I know. And I sell more books than you, too.”
“Bitch.”
Kelly laughed and looked at the parking lot. “Now where did I park my stupid rental car? Last time I let them give me a white one.”
* * * *
State Attorney General Dennis Sheridan held back a sigh as he watched Richard Hasting’s lawyer wear an agitated groove in the carpet in front of his desk with his expensive leather shoes. Sweat glittered like diamonds in the places where his graying hair had given up trying to cover his large, round head. Greedy, hunted eyes peered out of indention’s in his bread dough face. Beneath a pug nose, his nauseatingly pink, cupid’s bow mouth twitched with an uncontrollable tick.
Agitation wasn’t a good look on Digby Prescott. Not that Sheridan had seen an emotion that was good on him in the six months they had been on opposite sides of the case of State of Colorado vs. Richard Robert Hastings.
The saint-turned-accused-killer had been an interesting problem. If Dani Gwynne hadn’t seen Hastings kill the Jane Doe, his ties to organized crime would have stayed hidden, lost in the glare of his “good works” foundation. Now that the tangled, mob money-laundering web was beginning to unravel for Hastings—and become a political bonanza for Sheridan, he could lean back in his chair and enjoy the sight of Prescott caught in the cleft stick of his own greed.
Prescott would have taken on the Hastings case at the request of Paul Orsini, the man who controlled organized crime activities from the West Coast to the Mississippi, a man who had more money than places to launder it. At the time it had probably seemed like a simple matter. Stall the case until the sole witness of the crime is dead and the Feds admit they couldn’t find anything in Richard’s Hastings closet.
Except the witness hadn’t died. And the mob’s man in the FBI hadn’t been near as good at hiding as Orsini and was getting ready to cut a deal. The whole package was coming apart and Prescott’s short legs were straddling the crack. No wonder he was twitching like he had St. Vitas Dance.
Orsini would take him out for what he was saying, for being here when Richard Hastings began his roll. Though Sheridan had a feeling that Hastings hadn’t told his attorney until they were safely inside. Had to know the only place his legal advisor would take him was to a quiet meeting and an ending in a shallow grave somewhere. Prescott was going to have to do some fancy footwork or request protection, too. He wasn’t light enough on his feet for plain footwork, let alone the fancy kind.
This weekend, when Sheridan thought he had lost his witness and his case, had been bad. The worst in his career. It wasn’t often he liked a witness, but it would be hard not to like Dani, harder still not to want her, particularly after he’d read one of her books. Who would have thought that much passion lurked beneath her quiet exterior? He had felt as much regret as he was capable of when he got the news she was dead.
Amazing what a few days could do for his prospects. Way things were going, it wouldn’t matter to the case if Dani didn’t make it. Sheridan’s smile widened as he studied his perfect manicure. He was in the catbird seat and he intended to enjoy it.
Prescott finally stopped talking and looked at him. “Well?”
Time to toy with the mouse. Wouldn’t do to appear hungry. “Your guy’s up to his armpits in it. Why would I want to pull him out?”
“Because he can give you Vernon Bates.” Saying the words out loud moved Prescott’s twitch another notch up the Richter scale. “And Bates can give you Orsini.”
“I thought Richard Hastings didn’t know Bates?”
Prescott’s little mouth worked for a minute before he said with controlled rage, “We gonna talk deal or not? You know you got nothing without your witness—”
Sheridan straightened. It was almost too easy. “Who told you I don’t have my witness?”
Prescott’s tiny gaze narrowed to nearly invisible. “I could go to the judge and force you to produce her.”
While Dani was living, Sheridan had no compunction about bluffing. Prescott was holding the worst hand. He shrugged. “Do it. Dani’s more eager than ever to nail your client. The sooner the better.” He smiled reflectively. “I can’t wait to see her in action. She’s a dream witness for a prosecutor. She has that—extra something that plays well with a jury. Then there’s the pathos of her dead baby. The Virgin Mary wouldn’t be as sympathetic.”
Prescott stared at him, indecision written large across his florid face. “You…she…I don’t believe you. She’s dead. We both know she’s dead.”
Sheridan adopted mock surprise. “Who told you she was dead?”
Prescott saw the danger too late. “Client-attorney communications are privileged.”
“And apparently incomplete. I wonder why Bates didn’t tell you she’s very much alive? That his expensive killer missed his mark again?”
Prescott’s mouth opened, then closed. He dropped in a chair, his shoulders rounding in defeat.
“You’re right,” Sheridan stood up. “It probably isn’t a good idea to say anything else. You’ve already incriminated yourself enough for one day.”
He loved it when a plan came together.
* * * *
“Tell me what you got, Riggs.” Matt paced restlessly away from the speaker telephone on his desk, whirled around and headed back.
“Not much. She was here at the mall, Saks Fifth Avenue again. Bought a red dress.”
“Red? That’s a red dress?” What? Trying to figure out what was going on in her head was like trying to work his way out of a maze in a blizzard.
“Affirmative. Clerk showed it to me. All I can say is, wow. She’s got someone in her sights.”
Despite clamping down on his thoughts, Matt felt a pang at missing the dress. With her legs—he frowned. Who was she targeting? He almost looked behind him. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. She was pissed at him. Not all the other people, good, bad and ugly, she should be pissed at. Him. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t caused the mess at the boarding house. She had. She had no right to put him in her sights. “Then it ought to be easy to track her.”
“You’d think. She doesn’t exactly look like the picture I’m showing, but I still have a few places left to check. Oh, and just to stay with the bad news, no good news theme, I talked to that guy, Adams at the DPD?”
“Yeah?”
“His snitch claims Bates has put Dent on Gwynne and Copeland on Hayes.”
Matt wheeled around. He’d be perfectly happy to have Copeland take out Hayes, but— “Dent? He’s almost as bad as Hayes.” He saw Sheridan approaching. “Let me get back to you, Riggs. Sheridan’s here.” Matt broke the connection and watched Sheridan approach. His face was impassive, his pace relaxed, but Matt could tell he was both satisfied and excited about something. Matt’s senses went to full blown wary when Sheridan sat down without asking for news about Dani, a small smile flickering the edges of his narrow mouth.
“What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know the case is breaking wide open, before I talk to Anderson.”
Matt’s gaze narrowed. Only one reason Sheridan would need to talk to Anderson. He needed a witness protected.
“FBI’s finally starting to unravel the mystery of Richard Hastings,” Sheridan went on, oblivious to Matt’s knife narrow gaze pointed at him. “Seems Bates had a friend in the ranks muddying the waters for him or we would have had Hastings cold months ago.”
“What’s the scam?”
“Money laundering through his charitable foundation. They tell me it would have been a slick deal if Hastings hadn’t screwed up the works by toas
ting our Jane Doe. Which is why Bates was so willing to provide a hitter to clean up his mess. Course now Hastings is crying dupe and seriously worried about his own worthless hide.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Prescott claims he was manipulated, but my call is, he was panting to be in it.”
“Prescott?” Matt looked at Sheridan. “Hastings is planning to roll over on Bates, isn’t he?”
Sheridan didn’t look at Matt, the first sign of discomfort blunting his satisfaction. “That’s right. Requested protection this morning.”
“What’d you tell him? You gonna let him plea down?” Matt didn’t try to keep the disgust from his voice and Sheridan reacted defensively, “I don’t have a choice. He delivers Bates, we have a shot at Orsini.”
“He must have been in deep if he can deliver Bates.”
“Yeah,” Sheridan gave a short, sharp laugh. “We’ll get David, too in the deal, maybe Orsini himself. As an added bonus, Prescott incriminated himself in the plot to kill Dani. He’s looking for a lawyer and deal for himself.” For the first time, Sheridan looked warily at Matt. “They’ll need protection. I got sources that say Bates has already put out a contract on Hastings.”
“The FBI should be able to handle that for you,” Matt didn’t hesitate, although technically it wasn’t his call. They were responsible for the deaths of three Marshals and the corruption of at least one more. He wasn’t interested in getting them off the hook they had put in their own mouths.
Sheridan didn’t misunderstand. “I’ll get a court order if I have to.”
“Do it. Neuman and his boy are available. One of them probably isn’t holding a grudge.”
“Think about it, Matt, if he helps us—”
Matt’s eyes and voice were laced with steel and pointed right at him, “You know how we feel about our own, Sheridan.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sheridan’s face turned red with his struggle for control. “Don’t mention the deal to Dani.”
“I wondered when you’d get around to Dani. But then you don’t need her anymore, do you?”
Sheridan’s gaze slid away again. “Of course I do, to keep the pressure on Hastings. Prescott’s legal problems will mean a postponement, but I doubt she’s in the mood to hear it—”
“No, I don’t think she is,” Matt said, thinking about the red dress. “Doesn’t change her situation or our responsibility to help her. Hayes will still be after her. And word on the street is, Bates has assigned Dent to complete the contract—”
“Dent? That’s not good. He’s a messy killer. Why isn’t Bates just dropping it with Hastings turning on him?”
He looked concerned, Matt thought with disgust. “He’d lose face if he backed out on a contract. Be a laughing stock if a romance writer got away from him.”
Though the romance writer was going to cost Bates more than the price of Dani’s contract if Prescott and Hastings fingered him, Matt mused. He would be dodging bullets himself before he was through. It was not an unpleasant thought.
Sheridan nodded thoughtfully. “Be useful if she could lure Hayes in for us. Wouldn’t mind putting him out of business with the rest of them. Course Bates’ll probably take care of him long before we catch up with him with Copeland on the job.”
The words sounded more cynical and a lot less high-minded coming out of Sheridan’s mouth than they had when he’d thought about using Dani to draw Hayes in. It gave him an unpleasant jolt as the window of Sheridan’s ambition turned into a mirror thrust in Matt’s face. It was his job to get the bad guys by whatever legal means possible. More times than not, it took turning the bad guys on each other, letting some minor fish off the hook to snag the big, bad ones. A trade-off, but an acceptable one, he had always thought.
“You’ll call me if you find her?” Sheridan asked, standing up and shaking the creases from his expensively cut pants. “Naturally we’re keeping the trial going until the deal is set.”
“Do that.” Frowning, Matt watched Sheridan leave. With visions of bagging Orsini dancing in his head, the jerk was happy to trash-can Dani and the last six months of her life.
It was an imperfect world they operated in, one of shifting grays, too little white, and a boat load of black, with right and wrong under the jurisdiction of lawyers and judges who used to be lawyers. He had lost his idealistic virginity early. To keep from getting screwed again, he adopted a big picture pragmatism, learned how to keep a tight focus on realistic objectives, not to sweat the details more than absolutely necessary and how to come to terms with what couldn’t be changed. He would take what he could wrest from the system and walk away when the fat lady sang.
He was one of the good guys.
Using Dani to catch Hayes wasn’t nice. The bad guys didn’t deal in nice. Someone had to stop Hayes. Easier to do if they had something he wanted. Hayes didn’t just want Dani. He needed her dead. If she didn’t die, he would be dodging Bates and his friends for the rest of his life.
Dani didn’t like the situation. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t like it either. This wasn’t fiction. No possibility of a tidy ending, just a lot of unappetizing, carefully considered compromises. Welcome to the real world.
Of course there was some risk. Collateral casualties were inevitable. Matt was confident of his people and trusted Andersen to do his part. The kicker was, Dani had to trust them for it to work. She had to come to terms with reality. Hayes would find her, better if he did it on their terms, than on his.
He leaned back in his chair, but couldn’t get comfortable. He stood up and paced to the window, stared broodingly down at the city. He liked her, well, liked what he’d learned about her, he admitted, though it made about as much sense as her taking the battle onto Hayes turf. Worse, Matt hunched his shoulders trying to escape discomfort, he had felt something even before he knew she wasn’t dead. Before he had seen her biker babe. He had felt something the first time he looked at her picture.
How could she look like that, he looked at the picture pinned on the board and pop up as biker babe? If he’d known who she was then—
He would still be standing here wanting something he couldn’t have. This wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about what he would like or what she wished the world was. This was life and death. Right and wrong. Justice and punishment. Good against evil.
Hayes was evil. This guy liked killing, liked burning what he killed. He got off on it and had to be stopped. Not just for Dani’s sake, but for the people he’d kill if they didn’t.
No matter what the cost? Matt frowned, not seeing the city below, but himself against the backdrop of the office, against the backdrop of the Service and country he had taken an oath to serve. He was just one part of the process. Behind him Sebastian was still hunched over his keyboard, following her trail in cyberspace. In other rooms and out in the city, other men and women worked on leads, using every resource they had to follow up. It was his op. In the end, the buck stopped with him. They accumulated data. He made the calls, decided when and how to act. Where and when to put people in jeopardy. When to take them out. He decided how far they went to catch Hayes, how close Hayes got to Dani. If they got close enough to her to make the call.
He had been at the apex of a breaking case before, could feel the pace picking up, like a car speeding forward. Trouble was, he had no way to stop it, no way to know if he was a crash test dummy heading for a wall or Mario Andretti about to cross the finish line of the Indi 500. Normally he would get a rush about now, as his training and instincts merged into a razor sharp readiness for action. This case wasn’t playing out like normal. He had to get his head clear, tighten his focus back on to the essentials. The last thing he could afford to do was a “Neuman,” and screw his timing. There was too much at stake.
It wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Dani, if he choked. And being out there somewhere in a red dress doing who knew what, with who knew who, wasn’t helping either. It was dangerous and downright stupid. He would tell her that if he got the chance.
If he got the chance.
It was going to be another sleepless night, he rubbed his face, but he was gonna spend it at home. Take a shower, shave—his chin was bristling unevenly from the shave in the men’s room with a dull razor this morning. He looked at Sebastian. “I’m going home. Call me if we hear anything.”
Sebastian looked up, flexing his long fingers. “Why don’t you take one of her laptops with you? I’ll show you how to hook it up, then if she shows up on a chat line somewhere, you can keep her busy talking while I track her.”
Matt nodded, too tired to be daunted by the idea.
Whatever it took.
That’s how the game was played before he met Dani. That’s how he had to play it now. End of story.
TWELVE
It was well into a new day when Dani helped a seriously impaired Kelly to one of the twin beds in a bedroom of her mother-in-law’s guest house. Niles, the butler, who had arranged for them to use the guest house while Kelly’s ex-mother-in-law was away, was an interesting case study in contrasts. He looked like The Addams Family’s Lurch, talked like an Oxford don, and was a former basketball player for the Denver Nuggets. Dani had to agree with Kelly’s suspicion that Niles’ duties as a butler were a cover for a more intimate involvement in Ana Terril’s life.
Whatever else Niles might be, he was a good stand-in host. He made them more than comfortable in the homey guest house, then directed them to let him know if there was anything else he could do for them. His air of competence almost induced Dani to give him her problems to sort out.
As if he sensed her longing to confide, he had drawn his thin lips out in a wide, and surprisingly charming, smile, then reiterated his desire to help. It was probably a good thing that Kelly asked him to bring them chocolate chip cookie dough. The request diverted his attention from Dani and provoked a homily on the dangers associated with eating raw eggs.
With considerable amusement, Dani watched the immovable object debate the irresistible force to a mutual stand still. She came down on the side of the irresistible force when they took a detour to buy a package of cookie dough. Dani needed both the sugar and the chocolate boost for what had followed.
The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy Page 13