by Karen Rose
‘It’s not completely ridiculous,’ Deacon admitted. ‘Neither is drawing Denny out with a fake message. But the two of you can’t be anywhere near Denny if he does go to Gage.’
‘I hadn’t planned to be,’ Ford said honestly, then sighed. ‘But I am more than a little emotionally invested, so Joseph’s dragging his feet has got me impatient.’
‘Of course it has. The bastard shot Clay and tried to shoot Taylor. Of course you’re going to be impatient.’
Ford shook his head. ‘It’s not just that. Mostly it’s that those two little girls have been through hell. They found their mother’s body, and Gage had beaten her so badly that it’s good he left her fingerprints intact, because they couldn’t have used dental records for ID. Right now, that guy has those kids. If he hasn’t killed them, then they’re scared out of their minds. Especially Jazzie, because she knows what he can do.’
Comprehension flickered through Deacon’s odd eyes. ‘I guess you would relate to the abduction terror better than the rest of us.’
‘Except for maybe Alec,’ Ford said quietly. ‘I was twenty. Alec was twelve. Just a year older than Jazzie. Janie’s only five.’
Deacon sighed heavily. ‘Okay. We go to Joseph. You tell him what you’ve told me, and then leave him to me. He’ll do the right thing. He always does.’
Any additional discussion was cut off when Ford’s phone buzzed in his hand. It was a text from Alec. Let’s talk. Your girl has an idea for better bait. I think you’ll be good with this one. Ford showed the phone to Deacon, who looked pleased.
‘Lead on,’ Deacon said with a flourish. ‘I’d like a chance to talk to your girl, too.’
My girl, Ford thought wistfully. He wished she was. Hoped she’d be. For now, the least he could do was make sure she lived long enough for them to find out.
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 7.15 P.M.
Jasmine tilted her head, listening hard. From where she lay on the floor she couldn’t see him up on the mattress, but he was snoring loudly and had been for what seemed like hours. But it couldn’t have been, because she could still see the sun through the window.
Please let him really be asleep. But she was pretty sure he was. She moved slowly, careful to make no noise, even when she was able to tug her wrists apart a fraction of an inch. She wanted to sigh with relief, but she just exhaled as carefully and quietly as she’d moved.
He’d been so drunk when he’d tied her after she’d bandaged him up. So drunk that she’d taken a chance and held her wrists together at an angle, touching skin only on one side. She’d left a gap between her wrists on the other side, praying that he wouldn’t notice.
He hadn’t. She’d waited while he put Janie on the floor beside her then run to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. She’d held herself perfectly still as he’d staggered to the bed and fallen on it, until he began to snore.
Get your hands free. She chanted it inside her mind over and over as she pulled, tugged and twisted her wrists. She visualized her hands behind her, focusing on the feel of the rope as it burned her skin. Otherwise she’d panic and cry and he’d wake up.
He’d said he’d give them back to Lilah, but she didn’t believe him. He’d lied about so many things. She couldn’t take the chance that he wasn’t lying about setting them free.
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 7.45 P.M.
JD entered the BPD building wanting to scream. Or throw something. With barely a nod at the security guard, he headed for his office. He exited the elevator into the small bullpen area that Joseph’s team occupied. It was nearly empty, with Hector the only other person there.
Hector was sitting at his own desk, his back to the bullpen entrance, arms crossed on his chest. JD briefly wondered what he was doing there, since he’d been tasked to lead the hostage retrieval team and should be either out front of Lilah’s apartment building or inside the building itself. Obviously Hector had hit a barrier with Lilah too.
JD was extremely familiar with the barriers Lilah Cornell had erected. The woman’s behavior was unacceptable. Both Jazzie and Janie were missing, their grandmother was nearly dead, yet Lilah had ignored every one of his attempts to communicate.
As had Cesar Tavilla, so JD still didn’t know where Gage Jarvis was hiding.
And Clay was still in surgery. Goddammit.
JD kicked a chair, sending it crashing into an unoccupied desk. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered.
‘Did that make you feel better?’ a smooth voice asked in a heavy accent.
Not Hector’s voice.
JD went still, then looked up as the man in Hector’s chair slowly spun around until they were facing each other. He was a suave man in his late forties, impeccably dressed. He uncrossed his arms, then elegantly crossed his legs, idly swinging one foot.
‘Mr Tavilla,’ JD said with a cool nod, although inside he was far from cool. How the fuck had the bastard gotten in here? He was just sitting at Hector’s desk like he owned the joint. Considering that he was here unescorted suggested that he owned at least one cop here in the building. Fucking shit.
The man nodded back. ‘Detective Fitzpatrick. You’ve been trying to reach me all afternoon.’ He gestured broadly. ‘So I am here.’
JD retrieved his chair and calmly sat at his own desk. He took a power bar from his drawer, because he hadn’t stopped to eat in hours. He downed the protein, chasing it with a bottle of water while Tavilla sat patiently.
‘You could have simply phoned me back,’ JD said mildly.
Tavilla shrugged. ‘I was in the neighborhood. So . . . why are you looking for me?’
‘Gage Jarvis,’ JD said bluntly. ‘I know he works for you. Where is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tavilla assured him, showing no surprise whatsoever. ‘And Mr Jarvis never technically worked for me. He was to have started work tomorrow morning, but I fired him today. After that debacle in front of the Italian restaurant this afternoon, I want no part of him.’
Apparently Thorne’s rumor mill was very good indeed. ‘What did Jarvis say when you fired him?’
A slight grimace. ‘Many things that are not appropriate to repeat.’
‘I see. Where was he when you fired him?’
‘I don’t know. I called him on his cell. I cannot give you his location, but I can give you his telephone number.’ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to JD. ‘That is the number. I imagine it’s a burner, but I hope you can still find it useful.’
Tavilla leaned back in his chair, smoothing his hand down a tie that probably cost JD’s salary for a week. The guy’s shoes, a detective’s salary for a month. Maybe two or three months. An honest detective’s salary at least.
The thought struck JD hard as Tavilla simply sat and regarded him through cold, dark eyes. JD placed the piece of paper on the far corner of his desk, closest to Tavilla.
‘I’d like nothing better than to sit here and stare you down all day long, Mr Tavilla, but I have things to do, so let’s just cut to the chase. What do you want from me?’
Tavilla smiled and JD was glad he’d braced himself, because the man’s smile made his blood run cold. He was able to maintain his expression of wary distrust, but only barely.
‘I’d like to know how you knew to call me.’
JD feigned reluctance and looked at the piece of paper, letting a trace of his very genuine desperation show. ‘He told his mother that he was finally coming home, that he had a job with you. She told us.’
‘Why?’ Tavilla asked, seeming sincerely curious. ‘Why would she tell you? The police?’
‘Because she’s proud of him. She didn’t know about him opening fire on three people in front of that restaurant today. She was barely conscious at the time and we didn’t want to upset her. She was braggi
ng about her boy.’
Tavilla sighed. ‘Sometimes it’s the simplest mistakes that trip one up, no?’
JD suppressed a shiver, wondering if Tavilla was referring to Gage Jarvis or to himself. Making a mental note to warn Thorne, he smiled wearily. ‘Sometimes it’s the only way we cops catch a break.’
Tavilla’s smile was real this time, and humor glinted in his dark eyes. ‘I know your record, Detective. You are smart enough to exploit any weakness you see. You don’t need the criminals to trip up.’
Oh my, the man was spreading it on thick. JD hid his irritation. Does the bastard think I’m that shallow? That flattery will get him somewhere?
‘That’s where you’d be wrong,’ JD said seriously. ‘And Gage is smart too.’
‘It’s why I hired him,’ Tavilla agreed. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your investigating. It’s been a pleasure to finally meet you, Detective Fitzpatrick.’
‘Just one more question, if you don’t mind,’ JD said, and Tavilla paused mid-rise and resettled himself into the chair, lifting a brow in permission. ‘Did you seek Jarvis out or did he come to you for a job?’
‘Why is that important, Detective?’
‘Just trying to trace his movements, to account for the lost time. And to understand why he came back a month ago.’
Tavilla considered, then shrugged. ‘He came to me. He looked strung out, thin. Rumor had it that he’d partied hard on money he’d had stashed away, but that his funds had run out and he was reduced to doing odd jobs along the beach. When he reminded me that I owed him a favor, I thought he’d ask for money. But he wanted a job. I could respect a man who wanted to work, so I said yes.’
‘Did he ask for anything else?’
‘No. He was dressed in a ratty T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, but he still had an air of . . .’ Tavilla frowned, searching for the word. ‘Pride, I suppose. I asked if he had a place to stay in Baltimore and he said he had a house. He got . . . how do you say?’ He bowed his shoulders up and thrust his chest out.
‘Puffed up?’ JD supplied.
Tavilla smiled. ‘Exactly. Like an angry bird. Said he was not a beggar. But I got the sense that he was tired of living as a beach bum.’ His expression grew thoughtful. Maybe even wistful. ‘I think he was simply ready to come home.’ He shook his head as if to clear it, then fixed his gaze on JD, eyes cold once again. ‘Anything else, Detective?’
‘Yes.’ JD smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘One more question. Who set his starting date? You or Jarvis?’
Tavilla tilted his head, studying him through narrowed eyes. ‘Why?’
JD shrugged. ‘Curious.’
Tavilla considered him another long moment. ‘He did,’ he finally replied. ‘Said he needed some time to get his affairs in order. I called him on Friday, asked if he was still planning to start on Monday since I had not heard from him since our initial meeting. He said yes, so I set up a dinner meeting with him for last night.’ Tavilla’s smile was easy but cold. Predatory. His eyes narrowed to reptilian slits. ‘But I’m sure that I tell you little that you do not already know. Your . . . sources are apparently very well placed.’
JD blinked, covering his dismay. He knows that I already knew about the dinner. Tavilla hadn’t bought his story about Gage telling his mother about his new job. Fuck. Thorne definitely needs to know. JD didn’t relish that conversation. Thorne had trusted him. And Lucy was going to be livid that JD had potentially compromised her friend’s safety. Fuck.
But still he kept his expression neutral, on the off-chance that Tavilla was fishing. ‘Well, a man tells his mother things, I suppose.’ He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know, of course. My mother’s not the chatty type. Jarvis’s mother, now? Very chatty. And worried about her son. She thinks he’s ill.’ He rolled his eyes for show. ‘She’s got it blown all out of proportion. Thinks he has cancer, for God’s sake. How did he seem to you? Still thin?’
Tavilla’s eyes relaxed, his expression returning to that of a suave businessman. ‘A little, but he looked healthier than he did a month ago. He was tanned. Clean.’ He made a face. ‘He was not so clean when we met in Florida last month, so last night was an improvement. He had a new suit and he’d dyed his hair darker. Oh, and he had a beard. Not a full beard, but . . .’ He stroked his own clean-shaven jaw, searching for the word.
‘Stubble?’
‘Yes, that’s it. He had stubble.’ One dark eyebrow arched. ‘So you should update the photo you attached to his BOLO. That was the mug shot taken of him three years ago when he was arrested for domestic assault.’
‘I’ll take care of that directly,’ JD said smoothly. They were just dancing around each other now. He’d gotten all he was going to get out of the man. And he knew damn well he hadn’t gotten anything that Tavilla had not planned to give him. Except that moment of wistfulness when he’d said Jarvis just wanted to come home.
JD stood. ‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Tavilla. I appreciate the information and that you gave it so willingly, expecting nothing in return,’ he added pointedly. ‘Good citizens are far too rare.’
Tavilla came to his feet too, his lips actually twitching, dark eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘It was truly my pleasure, Detective. I hope you catch your prey.’
JD walked him to the elevator and took it down with him, accompanying him to the exit, wondering exactly who had let the man through. That would be a question he’d have to ask later.
He instructed the security guard on duty that the man who’d just left was not to be allowed back in, then went back to his desk, noting that he’d missed two calls from Joseph as he’d been talking to Tavilla. ‘I just had a visitor,’ he said when Joseph picked up. ‘Cesar Tavilla.’
‘Oh really?’ Joseph sounded surprised, which didn’t happen often. ‘What did he have to say?’
‘That he’d fired Gage this afternoon, and then he gave me Gage’s cell phone number.’
‘Excellent,’ Joseph said with satisfaction. ‘Bring it with you. I need you back at the hospital ASAP.’
JD’s stomach twisted. ‘Clay?’
‘Still in surgery. Deacon’s here. And apparently Ford, Alec and Taylor have been taking some initiative. They have a plan and Deacon says it doesn’t suck. His words.’
JD laughed, the sound startling him in the quiet of his office. ‘Of course they’re his words. You know, I didn’t think I’d miss the white-haired bastard as much as I have.’
Joseph chuckled quietly. ‘I know. I’ll see you when you get here.’
Twenty-one
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 8.15 P.M.
Joseph Carter was a hard man to read, Taylor thought, studying him as he sat on the other side of the table that nearly filled the small hospital consultation room in which she, Ford and Alec had shared their plan. Joseph’s expression gave no indication whether his response would be open or dismissive. Her four-year degree in psychology was useless against the man’s granite mask. Hell, she didn’t think a Harvard PhD could see beneath that face of his.
JD Fitzpatrick, on the other hand, was easy to read – or maybe he was simply too tired to be enigmatic. Fitzpatrick had arrived looking dog-tired, overheated and frustrated. He and his team had questioned potential witnesses, analyzed the crime scene, traced the string of cars Gage had stolen during his getaway. But Gage had ditched the last car and had either walked to wherever he was hiding or taken a car that hadn’t been reported stolen yet. Either way, they were no closer to knowing his hiding place.
Taylor, Ford and Alec had laid out their plan for Joseph and Fitzpatrick while Deacon Novak and Daphne Montgomery looked on. Daphne was easy to read. She was full of worry. Taylor imagined that in the courtroom she’d have more of a poker face since she was a prosecutor, but here, sitting next to her son, she was all mama bear. Which is exactly as it should be.<
br />
Novak never took off his sunglasses, so Taylor couldn’t get a good read of his face. He seemed onboard. More mildly anticipatory than anything else. Ford and Alec trusted him, so Taylor had no choice but to rely on their judgment.
Fitzpatrick was too hot and tired to care about hiding anything. He was clearly peeved that Alec had compromised Denny’s cell phone logs, but mostly because Alec hadn’t come forward with them as soon as he’d gotten them. Apparently Fitzpatrick and Clay had an under-the-table agreement about the sharing of ill-gotten information.
Fitzpatrick had obtained Gage’s cell phone number ‘legally’ from ‘a source’, but Alec had stolen his thunder by getting the same number first. Taylor thought that annoyed the detective the most. He was in a very snarly mood.
And he doesn’t trust me. That had come through perfectly clearly in every conversation they’d had so far today. It was obvious in Fitzpatrick’s body language as he listened to Ford and Alec speak. Taylor wasn’t sure why he didn’t trust her, but this meeting wasn’t the venue to find out. This was about finding the girls – and bringing Gage to justice. Not about me. So she’d remained mostly silent, letting Alec and Ford do almost all of the talking.
Joseph listened stoically until the end, his body completely still except for one hand that spun a pencil through his fingers with a speed and accuracy that suggested he did it often. When Alec and Ford were done, he sat back in his chair.
‘So you want to send a text to Denny Jarvis via a spoofing service, so that it looks like it came from the cell number from Denny’s log, which we can safely assume is Gage’s phone, because it matches the number given to JD. You want this text to be so compelling that Denny leaves his home and immediately goes to where Gage has been living. The officer tailing Denny will follow and tell us where Gage is.’ He raised his brows. ‘Am I keeping up?’
Ford nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘All right,’ Joseph said in the same even tone. ‘You assume that Denny knows where Gage lives or has at least been hiding. And you assume that’s where Gage is right now and that he has the children with him.’