by Karen Rose
‘I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll have officers round up any security tapes that are available and we’ll check. He left his car behind. Taylor shot it as well. It matches the description of the car that Cleon Perry drove, though license plates are different. Probably stolen.’
‘I want Jarvis’s face out on a BOLO. Yesterday.’
‘I’ve already put his description out on the wire. I’ll crop the photo Thorne gave me so that Tavilla’s face doesn’t show and I’ll put it out there also.’
‘Good. Now, you told me Clay was hurt and that Taylor shot the shooter. You haven’t mentioned Ford and I know he was there. So . . .’ Joseph’s voice cracked. ‘Tell me.’
‘He’s okay. He was shot. Three times. Twice in the back, but the Kevlar stopped it. Once in the leg, but it’s barely a scratch. I doubt he’ll even need stitches. He will need a clean shirt. He used his to stop Clay’s bleeding. Probably saved his life. I just sent Ford and Taylor to the ER in a squad car. The officer driving them knows what Gage looks like. He’ll stand guard.’
‘Good work, JD.’ Joseph cleared his throat roughly. ‘I’ll tell Daphne. Have you called Stevie yet?’
‘No. She was my next call.’
‘I’ll take care of it. She’s here, decorating with us. You get confirmation it was Gage Jarvis. Then crawl up Tavilla’s ass and find out if he knows where Jarvis is hiding out.’
‘Will he go to his brother, Denny?’
‘If he does, we’ll know. I put a tail on Denny and his wife, remember?’
‘Right,’ JD said, mentally kicking his brain to get the fuck into gear. ‘I’ll call you when I know anything.’ He almost ended the call, when his brain finally engaged. ‘Wait. Tavilla. If I’m able to contact him, I’ll need to tell him how I knew to call him. I can’t connect Thorne to this. Any ideas?’
Joseph paused for several seconds. ‘It’s unlikely, but not impossible, that Gage would tell his mother that he’s got a job here in the city. Tell Tavilla that his mother gave you his name. We’ll pick her up and put her in protective custody until we know what her connection is to all this. She might have been the one hiding him, after all. Good thinking, JD. We don’t want to put Thorne in danger.’
‘Because this is enough of a clusterfuck already,’ JD muttered, hearing Clay’s voice so clearly in his mind. What’s your plan to get my daughter and this little girl in and out of Giuseppe’s in one undamaged piece? ‘We can’t reverse it. We can only contain it now.’
‘And in that vein,’ Joseph added, ‘don’t use the photo that Thorne gave you. My gut says that Thorne’s got someone inside Tavilla’s organization. We might need that person someday, so don’t compromise their cover. Find another photo. Did Gage have a mug shot taken when he was arrested for the domestic abuse charge?’
‘I’ll find something. I need to go now. Call me if you hear anything. I’ll do the same.’
Nineteen
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 5.00 P.M.
Taylor couldn’t hold back her worried sigh when she gave Ford back his phone. They were sitting together on a bed in the ER, his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight. ‘I’m sure your dad is fine,’ he assured her in that rock-steady voice on which she’d come to depend in a rather terrifyingly short period of time. He kissed the top of her head. ‘Both your dads.’
Taylor cuddled against his chest, frowning her worry even as she appreciated the warmth of his arms around her. The ER was freezing cold and she’d been shivering, which was how he’d convinced her to climb up on the bed with him and keep him company while he kept her warm. But really they were cuddling, and it was so very nice.
Except that Taylor hadn’t been able to reach her dad in California all day. ‘I’m afraid he’s going to hear about all this on the news and think I’m hurt. I wish Detective Fitzpatrick would bring me my phone. Dad may have left me messages.’
She’d given Ford her phone to call 911 when Clay had first been shot, but the shot that had hit Ford in the back – she still hadn’t gotten over the scare of that – had knocked him to his knees and her phone had flown out of his hand, landing somewhere at the crime scene.
‘If JD finds it, he’ll send it here. He promised, and he keeps his promises.’
Ford had said this to her twice before, but he still sounded patient. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know I’m OCD’ing on you.’
He rested his cheek against her hair. ‘No apologies or I’ll be forced to pull your hair like Clay did.’ He tugged a handful playfully. ‘Okay?’
‘Yeah.’ And then she sighed, thinking about Clay for the thousandth time in the last five minutes. They’d been told that he’d been taken up to surgery and that it could be hours before they heard anything.
She glanced up at the institutional-looking clock on the wall. The hands were moving painfully slowly. She and Ford had been there for about a half-hour. The doctor had dressed the graze on his leg with a bandage and recommended ice packs for his bruised back. From a medical standpoint he was free to go, but the police had asked them to stay in the ER wing until someone came to escort them home.
Not that they planned to leave the hospital while Clay was still in surgery. Which is not my fault. Or so she kept telling herself. She was trying not to take the blame for this, but it was hard to break habits ingrained over a lifetime.
‘No, it’s not your fault,’ Ford murmured, stroking her hair.
She winced. ‘Did I say that out loud?’
‘Yep. Shhh. Just relax.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ she grumbled without heat. ‘They gave you a painkiller.’ Because the bullet graze on his leg wasn’t very long, but it was deep. And because his back was a mass of bruises from the bullets caught by the Kevlar.
‘And it’s working. They offered you one. You should have taken it.’
Actually they’d offered her a Valium, because she’d had another mild panic attack when they’d arrived in the ER, but she’d declined. Still, she tried to relax for Ford’s sake, matching his deep, even breathing. He continued stroking her hair lazily, and the combination had her drifting off, until two familiar twangs outside the curtain jerked her awake.
‘Nooo,’ Ford said sleepily, reaching for her when she scrambled off the bed. ‘Don’t go. Not yet. Not ready for you to go yet.’
Taylor kissed his forehead. He was a little loopy and she wondered if he meant now or in a month from now. ‘Sshh. I’m not going anywhere for a while,’ she whispered, and he settled. ‘Your mother is here. Sounds like Maggie, too.’
‘’Kay,’ he murmured.
The curtain was whisked back, revealing an anxious crowd – Daphne and Maggie, but also Joseph, Ford’s half-brother Cole, and Holly and Dillon. An older woman who Taylor had never met before was hanging on to Maggie and all four women had clearly been crying.
Taylor was instantly alarmed. ‘Did they give you news about Clay? Is he . . .’ Still alive? ‘Still okay?’
Daphne rushed to the bed and Taylor tried to step aside, only to be gathered up in a hard hug. ‘No, no,’ Daphne said hoarsely. ‘Nothing new. It was just . . . Stevie and Tanner are in the waiting room. We went there first. They’re both just wrecked.’
Taylor felt ill. Meeting her grandfather for the first time was to have been a joyous, happy occasion, but now it would be tense and sad.
Awkwardly Taylor patted Daphne’s back when the woman didn’t release her from the hug. ‘Well, I’ll just step outside to get out of your way. I know you want time with Ford. He really is okay, by the way. He’s just sleeping because they gave him a painkiller.’
‘I’m not asleep,’ Ford mumbled, his eyes still closed. ‘Wish I were, but so not asleep. Let Taylor go, Mom. You’re suffocating her.’
Hiccupping a laugh, Daphne released the hug, but held on to
Taylor’s arm. ‘I know you’re okay, son, largely due to this young lady.’ To Taylor she added, ‘I’ll hug him to make sure and I’ll cry some more and he’ll be completely mortified, but I’ll fall apart on him in a minute.’
‘Thanks for the warning, Mom,’ Ford said with affectionate sarcasm.
‘Hush, son. Taylor, my mother wants to meet you. Mama, this is Clay’s daughter. Taylor, this is my mother, Simone Montgomery.’
‘It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.’ Taylor held out her hand but found herself engulfed in another tight hug. Daphne’s had been hard and fierce, but Simone’s was warm. And she smelled like chocolate cookies, as if she’d been baking.
‘You saved my grandson’s life today,’ Simone said emotionally, her accent sharper, more pronounced than Daphne’s. ‘Clay’s life too. JD told us all about it. Thank you, child.’
More awkward back-patting. Until Taylor remembered that her own grandmother, Clay’s mother, had died before Taylor could hug her. So she took what this woman offered, sinking into the hug. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said. ‘But it wasn’t like I meant to do it. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the moment.’
Simone let her go, cupping her cheeks with her palms, a lovely smile on her face. ‘There was no “just” about it. It was amazing, child. Don’t you hide your courage under a bushel – or your skill. Do not minimize the value of the lives you saved.’ She smiled fondly at Ford, then dropped her hands from Taylor’s face and frowned at her grandson in a quicksilver mood change. ‘You shielded them with your body, Ford? Really? Are you insane? Kevlar is not foolproof, you silly boy.’
‘My sentiments exactly,’ Daphne said, hugging her son as hard as she’d hugged Taylor, eliciting a grunted curse. ‘But I’m still proud of you, sweetheart.’
‘Bruises, Mom. Watch the bruises on my back.’
Taylor tried to ease her way out of the room, but Maggie slipped an arm around her waist. ‘Stay. You’re not in the way. You’re Clay’s daughter and that alone makes you family.’
Everyone started talking at the same time then, and Taylor felt the panic rising. Surprisingly, it was Joseph who took pity on her.
‘I need to ask Taylor a few questions,’ he said brusquely. ‘We’ll be in the waiting room down the hall.’ He led the way, with Cole and Dillon joining them. The women stayed to fuss over Ford.
Dillon collapsed in one of the waiting-room chairs. ‘Too many people,’ he huffed. ‘Makes me nervous.’
‘I agree,’ Taylor said, leaning on the door frame. ‘I’m still not comfortable with crowds. I lived in the middle of nowhere for too many years.’
‘I like the barn better,’ Dillon said. ‘The barn is quiet. Hospitals are not quiet.’
She smiled at him. ‘No, they’re not,’ she agreed. ‘And yes, I like the barn better too.’
Cole was studying her carefully, and Taylor was once again surprised that the young man was only fifteen. He looked Ford’s age, but it was largely due to his size.
‘Did you really make that shot?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Yeah,’ she said unhappily. ‘And now that I’ve had time to think about it, I wish I had killed him. Then he wouldn’t still be out there.’
‘If you’d killed him,’ Joseph said dryly, ‘there would have been a shitload of paperwork. But I understand the sentiment.’
‘Did you really have questions for me?’ she asked him.
He shook his head. ‘Not really. You just looked like a wild animal ready to chew off its own leg to get away. I did want to talk to you, though. Maggie and Daphne passed on everything you told them. I would like to meet Frederick Dawson someday. He sounds impressive.’
‘He is.’ Taylor bit at her lip. ‘And he’s not answering my calls. He’s going to be worried sick over me. I wish I had my phone.’
‘Oh.’ Joseph took a plastic evidence bag from his pocket, along with a pair of latex gloves. ‘Fitzpatrick found it. It’s still evidence, but you can check your messages and call logs to see if he’s called you. I’ll need it back after you’re done, though.’
‘Thank you.’ Relieved, Taylor donned the gloves and checked her messages. Nothing from her dad. She tried dialing, but still no answer. ‘He’s not picking up on the house line either.’ She tried her sister Daisy’s phone with the same result. She handed the phone back to Joseph. ‘Something’s got to be wrong.’
‘Don’t borrow trouble,’ Joseph suggested kindly. ‘We’ve got enough of that to spare.’
‘That’s the truth,’ Taylor murmured, then startled when the ER doors flew open. A medical team pushed a stretcher past the waiting room and Taylor narrowed her eyes when she saw the victim’s face. When she recognized the victim’s face.
She turned to Joseph once the stretcher had disappeared into an exam room. ‘Joseph, that’s Jazzie’s grandmother. I’m almost sure of it. I’ve only seen her a few times, but she has the same color hair. It’s dyed bright red. Kind of unforgettable. And kind of coincidental, too, especially with Lilah acting so strangely this afternoon. She was asking if the girls’ grandmother had arrived with them, said they’d had a miscommunication over who would bring them to Giuseppe’s for ice cream. But it was Lilah and Eunice who set the meeting up. They were the ones who made Jazzie’s little two-word conversation with me into this raging big deal. Well, Jazzie did cry all over me, too, and I don’t think she’d done that with anyone since her mother died. But still.’
Shut up. Stop talking. It was the nerves. She was running on fumes and the words kept spewing out. She snapped her teeth together to make herself stop, shrugging fitfully when Joseph gave her a speculative look, like he was doubting her sanity. ‘Or maybe I’m just being ridiculous,’ she said, embarrassed now. ‘It’s okay. My nerves are all jangled up and I know I sound crazy. You can say it.’
His lips quirked up, making him a very handsome man in a dangerous, brooding kind of way. Not Taylor’s cuppa, but she could certainly see why Daphne was attracted. Taylor had had enough of danger and of looking over her shoulder to last a lifetime. She thought of Ford lying in the bed just a few minutes before, holding her. Grounding her.
Give me slow and steady as a rock any damn day of the week. Blond worked, too.
‘Actually,’ Joseph said, shocking the hell out of her, ‘I was thinking that you sound perceptive. Let me check it out.’
‘But it’s Detective Fitzpatrick’s case,’ Taylor said with a frown. ‘Is the hospital even allowed to talk to you?’
Joseph looked amused. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll talk to me.’
Cole leaned on the side of the door opposite Taylor when Joseph was gone. ‘Joseph is JD’s boss,’ he murmured.
Taylor shook her head. ‘Can’t be. One’s FBI, the other BPD. One’s federal, one’s local.’
‘But he is. Joseph heads up a joint task force. Violent Crimes . . . somethin’ somethin’.’ Cole waved his hand vaguely.
‘Enforcement Team,’ Dillon supplied, then rolled his eyes when Cole looked surprised. ‘I read the news, Cole. Plus, he’s gonna be my brother-in-law and he used to scare me to death, so I learned about his cases to impress him.’ Dillon winced. ‘So he wouldn’t kill me.’
Cole smirked. ‘He only wanted to kill you because he caught you and Holly makin’ out the first time he met you.’ He winked at Taylor. ‘I heard that their clothes were flung all over the living room and poor Dillon here was bare-assed.’
Dillon gave a moan of embarrassment, his cheeks turning red. ‘I was not bare-assed. Not completely anyway. And please don’t remind me.’
Cole patted his shoulder. ‘Well, all your hard work paid off. He doesn’t want to kill you anymore.’
‘You should read the paper too, Cole,’ Dillon said seriously. ‘He’s your dad now. Read about his cases. If I could read fast like you, I’d read even more.’
<
br /> ‘I will,’ Cole promised, but Dillon rolled his eyes again and Taylor wondered how often they’d had similar conversations.
Joseph returned looking very troubled. ‘She was brought in as a Jane Doe. A lady walking her dog discovered her on the ground under some shade trees in a park a few blocks from Lilah’s apartment. She had no ID and no phone, but her head was pillowed on her empty handbag. She may have been drugged, but right now she’s suffering from heart failure. They were using the defib paddles and it did not look good.’
Taylor sank into the chair next to Dillon, the sick feeling returning to her stomach in force. ‘Lilah said that the girls were with her. If Granny is here, where are Jazzie and Janie?’
Joseph was already dialing his cell phone. ‘Good question. I’m calling JD.’
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 5.10 P.M.
Gage snapped a photo of the sleeping girls, then checked his list again. He’d prepped everything he needed to make the ransom call to Lilah. This was actually going to be . . . fun. Lilah had started this whole mess by pushing Valerie to report him for domestic abuse. It was only fair she pay for the cleanup.
On his phone’s browser, he brought up a spoofing website and entered his mother’s number as the caller and Lilah as the receiver. Lilah would answer a phone call from his mother.
‘Eunice?’ Lilah said, picking up on the first ring. ‘Where are you? I got home from the mall and you and the girls were gone. You weren’t at the restaurant and I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
He said nothing, waiting for her to shut the fuck up.
‘Eunice?’ Lilah said uncertainly. ‘Are you all right?’
Showtime. ‘I have your girls,’ he said calmly, not trying to disguise his voice. He wanted her to know who he was, because she’d know what he was capable of doing. She’d empty her bank account to keep the girls from ending up like their mother.