Allison glanced to her side as a pair of FBI agents in dark suits approached the backpacker. They flashed their badges. Allison caught the look of horror on the man’s face.
“Got him,” she said.
She and Ric stood up. They sauntered over to the man, who was now being turned around and frisked. That goatee hadn’t been started yesterday, and it was going a long way toward confirming Allison’s theory about his plan to slip into Canada on a fake passport.
Ric’s brother turned the man around and cuffed his hands. “You’re under arrest for soliciting the murder of Tyler P. Dorion.”
“What? That’s absurd.”
Maxwell saw Allison and flinched.
“Hey, Ryan. How’s it hanging?”
His cheeks flushed. “This is outrageous! I want to talk to my lawyer. I’ll sue every one of you people!”
“You’ll have to get in line,” Ric said.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Special Agent Rey Santos intoned. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
The other agent picked up his backpack while Rey led Maxwell away, still reciting his rights. His face went crimson as they passed the crowd of other travelers at the security gate, and Allison shook her head. Public humiliation was the least of his worries now. He was looking at treason and murder charges.
“Not bad, Doyle.”
She looked at Ric.
“don’t be surprised if there’s some reshuffling,” Ric told her. “You’ll probably be moving from property crimes to CAP.”
Allison watched Maxwell getting smaller and smaller as he was escorted down the terminal. She was going to get a promotion out of this. Joining the Crimes Against Persons squad had been her goal for years.
“So, how’s it feel? Your first big arrest?”
“Not like I thought,” she said. “I expected to be happy, but I just feel … I don’t know. Slimed.”
“That’s homicide. Even when it turns out for the best, it still sucks.”
She looked up at him. “Why do you do it?”
Ric gazed off into the crowd. “Started out, I was doing it for the kick. The ego boost.” He looked at Allison. “Homicide dicks, we think we’re pretty hot shit.”
“You guys? I hadn’t noticed.”
He looked away again. “Now I’ve got a teenage daughter. It’s more complicated. When I take trash off the street, I’m doing it for her. And people like Becca Kincaid.”
Way down the concourse, the agents and Maxwell reached a secure exit and disappeared through a door.
Allison slipped her hand into her pocket and felt Ty’s business card.
“I figure it’s not a bad reason to get up in the morning,” Ric said.
Allison nodded. “Good enough for me.”
•••
Sean hung up with Allison and dialed Gretchen. She answered on the third ring.
“Any word?”
She must have seen his number on caller ID.
“Joe Shugart, aka John Sharpe, is dead,” he told her.
She didn’t say anything, but Sean watched through the window as her shoulders slumped with relief. She sank down on the arm of the couch.
“I never thought I’d be happy to hear news like that, but … thanks.”
“Ryan Maxwell has been arrested,” Sean added. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Ryan who?”
“The man who hired the hit on the witness. And probably, indirectly, the man who hired your husband.”
“Ex-husband.” She stood up and took the phone across the room, away from where her kids were seated at the kitchen table kneading Play-Doh with their aunt.
Gretchen stepped toward the window of the cabin and gazed out at the trees. She’d had the blinds open all night, which had been driving Sean crazy, even though he’d been running surveillance on the place for twelve hours and had detected nothing amiss.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just kind of … numb. I don’t know. This all seems surreal. Do you think—” She sighed.
“Do I think what?”
“This may sound paranoid, but do you think that’s it? Just those two? Is there anyone else I need to worry about, you know, coming to bother us?”
“I don’t think so. Everything we’ve dug up so far points to one money person who hired Sharpe, and Sharpe hired Jim. We have no evidence of anyone else, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“Thank you.”
He paused. “You’re going to have to give the money back.”
“I know.”
“It’s evidence.”
“I understand. I don’t want it, anyway, now that I know where it came from.”
Sean hesitated. He didn’t want to insult her, but he’d seen her bank accounts as part of the investigation. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” She looked to the side, at her children. “We were fine before. We’ll be fine again. We’ve got each other, and that’s really all I care about.” She pressed her palm against the glass and looked out, wistful. “Where are you, anyway?”
Sean sat in the front seat of the rental car and felt a pang of regret for something he couldn’t really name.
“On my way home from work,” he said, and it wasn’t really a lie.
She walked back into the living room and stood beside the sofa, looking at her kids. For the first time since he’d known her, she looked relaxed instead of tense.
“Good. You should get some rest. You’ve had a long week.”
He laughed. “You’ve had a long life.”
She smiled. Then she sighed. “I guess that’s true.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for telling me. You don’t know what a weight this is off my shoulders.”
He did know.
Sean started the car. He pulled back onto the gravel road and pointed the sedan toward the entrance to the park. He had a long drive ahead of him and then a flight out of Atlanta. Gretchen had hidden herself well.
“You take care,” he said. “And take care of those girls.”
“Thanks, Sean, I’ll do my best.”
And he knew that she would.
Sophie was home.
Jonah pulled up behind her new SUv, blocking her in so she’d be less likely to tell him she didn’t have time to eat lunch with him. He trudged up the back steps and toed off his dirty Nikes, then kicked them to the side of the porch.
“Sounds interesting,” she was saying into the phone as he walked into the kitchen. He planted a kiss on her forehead, and she cowered back against the sink and made a face at him.
He didn’t blame her. He was covered in sweat and dirt and lawn clippings, and she looked all put together in crisp white jeans and a silky green top.
“Okay, two o’clock. Right. See you there.” She hung up the phone and dropped it into her purse on the table.
“How’s your dad?” she asked.
“Good.”
“You get the yard all done?”
“Yep.” He took a glass down and filled it with water. “Where you heading?”
“That was a leasing agent. I found a place on the west side of town that’s running a two-months-free special. It’s slightly out of my price range, but I’m going to take a look.”
Jonah guzzled the water. He refilled the glass and guzzled some more, then plunked it down on the counter.
“You want to come?” she asked.
“No.”
He watched her across the kitchen, and he could feel the tension in the air between them. This was the conversational land mine they’d been avoiding for the past two weeks.
He’d told her she could stay here as long as she needed, and she’d basically said thanks but no thanks. Jonah was still irked about it.
“I could change the appointment time.” She glanced at her watch. “You could jump in the shower? Come along and give me your opinion?”
“Why would you want my opinion?”
S
he gave him a baleful look. “Well, you are a cop, so I was thinking you might have something to say about the safety aspects. I mean, that’s the entire point of this move. My apartment isn’t exactly the safest place on earth—”
“Your apartment’s a dump.”
“Right. And this is a gated community. It’s supposed to be nice. It’s even got a view.” She crossed her arms. “And I was kind of hoping you might be spending some time there with me, so maybe you’d have an opinion.”
Jonah didn’t say anything. He just looked at her.
“You don’t?”
“I’ve got plenty of opinions. You don’t want to hear them.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re signed up for two classes, right? Starting Monday?”
“Yeah.”
“And you just got a new car, but the insurance check didn’t cover all of it.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, you’re wasting your hard-earned money,” he said. “I think it’s stupid.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
He sighed. “I think this plan is stupid. What do you need a gated community for when you’ve got me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous?”
“I can’t depend on a man to keep me safe and secure.”
“Why not?”
She opened her mouth.
“Why can’t you depend on me? I can do those things, Sophie. I’m good at that stuff.”
She floundered for words. “Jonah … this isn’t the Middle Ages. I don’t need some knight to ride up and rescue me—”
“I’m talking about real life. I’m talking about you being with me. Staying at my house. In my bed. I’m talking about hanging out together, going to movies, washing your car. I’m talking about you waking me up to distract you when you can’t sleep at night.”
She stared at him. “You want me to move in here?”
He wanted way more than that. But it was a start. And she looked a little stunned by what he was saying.
“Screw the apartment search,” he said simply.
•••
She stood there looking at him, all dirty and sweaty on the other side of the kitchen. This wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured this conversation. It was a step up from “Stay here as long as you need,” but not by much.
Sophie’s stomach cramped. There was a serious imbalance in this relationship, and it was only getting worse. She desperately wanted to move in with him, but she wanted him to love her first, even if he didn’t say it all the time. She could do without the words as long as she knew the feeling was mutual.
But maybe it wasn’t.
She looked at her feet. Her throat tightened. She glanced at her watch.
Across the room, Jonah muttered a curse. “Just hang on a minute, okay?”
She looked up, and he walked straight out the back door.
“Where are you going?” she called through the screen.
He didn’t answer, but disappeared into the garage. She heard him rooting around. And then he came back inside carrying a red metal toolbox. He set it down beside the sink and turned on the faucet. He dampened a dish towel and scrubbed it over his face and neck. He took a deep breath and stared down at the sink while she watched him curiously.
He opened the toolbox and lifted the top tray. It was filled with screws and nails and plenty of other little metal things she couldn’t identify.
He took out a black velvet box, and Sophie’s heart skittered. She looked at him.
His eyes were dark and serious, and the tender expression on his face made her legs weak.
“I wasn’t planning to do this yet, but …” He opened the little box and took out a diamond ring.
“Oh my God, Jonah.” She sucked in a breath as he picked up her hand. His fingers were big and brown compared to hers, and he had dirt under his nails. He slid the ring onto her finger.
“My granddad gave it to me.”
She glanced up at him, and he looked nervous. She could hear it in his voice, too.
“This was years ago, after my grandma died. He said she’d want me to have it for later, when I met someone.” He cleared his throat. “I took it in the other day. Had it sized for you.”
She blinked down, shocked. “And then you stored it in your garage?”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah, well, you’re kind of nosy. And I was planning something nicer than this, but …”
She looked up, and his face was serious again.
“I love you, Sophie.”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. She could hardly breathe. He gazed down at her, patient as always, waiting for it to sink in. This was for real. He was for real.
He squeezed her hand. “Will you marry me?”
She looked into his eyes and knew that he meant what he said. She could trust him. Not just to protect her and keep her safe, but to keep her laughing and fighting and losing her temper and losing her mind with passion for many years to come. He could do all those things, and she could do them for him, too. He was giving her his heart right now, in the middle of his kitchen, in his sweaty T-shirt and bare feet. It was the most precious gift anyone had ever offered her.
“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. “I would love to marry you.”
She felt his sigh of relief, and she pulled back, laughing. “I love you, too, you know. Just in case you were wondering.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. He leaned down to kiss her.
“I know,” he said. “I heard you the first time.”
Turn the page for a sneak peek of
TWISTED
the next heart-stopping Tracers novel from
Laura Griffin
Coming in Spring 2012 from Pocket Star Books
Detective Allison Doyle knew better than to expect the whole night off. But she was an optimist at heart—and she was hungry—so she pulled into the parking lot of Sal’s Quick Stop, savoring the idea of a hot Meat Lover’s Supreme.
Everyone in the department had been working round the clock. Allison’s reward was going to be a junk-food dinner and a mindless night in front of the tube. She pulled open the freezer and selected a sausage-and-double-pepperoni pizza with extra-thick crust. She made a quick detour through the dry goods section and approached the register.
The store owner’s gaze darted to her. His tense expression morphed into relief.
Allison’s skin prickled. Her attention snapped to the customer at the counter with his back to her. Greasy brown hair, oversize leather jacket, shoulders hunched up around his ears. His body moved back and forth with the agitated tic of a tweeker.
Holdup.
The flash of awareness was accompanied by a kick of dread, as she realized both her hands were full.
Always keep your gun hand free. Allison knew that. She’d had it drilled into her by every firearms instructor she’d ever met, and yet here she stood with an armed assailant, encumbered by a frozen pizza and a bag of kitten chow, her service weapon tucked neatly beneath her jacket. Panic threatened, but she tamped it down as she scrambled for a plan. If she dropped her groceries, she’d startle him—
The man whirled around, and she cursed her hesitation. She looked at his black pistol and widened her eyes in fake surprise.
“Step back!” He jabbed the gun at her with a shaking hand, then spun to Sal.
Allison scanned her surroundings. No other customers, thank God. Two cars in front, including hers. No getaway driver in the other vehicle, but the headlights glowed, hinting at a running engine. Why hadn’t she noticed it? She was 0-for-3 here, and she blamed a marathon workweek that had now culminated in a string of potentially deadly mistakes.
The situation worsened as another car turned into the lot. It pulled up to a gas pump, and she hoped they were going to pay outside.
The perp spun toward her again with another panicked look. White male, five-ten,
one-forty. Dilated pupils. The tremor in his gun hand extended to his whole body, and he was clearly jacked up. Bad news for everyone. So was the fact that he’d made no effort to disguise himself and seemed oblivious to the security camera mounted behind the cash register. Even from ten feet away, Allison could smell the desperation on him.
“I said back, bitch!”
She stepped back obediently and tried to look meek.
He turned to the register. “The money!”
Sal reached for the cash drawer. It slid open with a ping, and Allison watched the store owner, noting all the details she’d missed at first glance. He didn’t just look tense, he looked frightened. But it was a fierce frightened, like a cornered animal. Sweat beaded at his temples as his angry gaze flashed to the man aiming the gun at him.
Allison eased forward. Sal glanced at her, and his defiant look had her pulse racing. She knew exactly what he thought of this two-bit meth fiend trying to rip off his business, and she hoped he wasn’t rash enough to do anything stupid before she got this under control.
Allison slid a glance at the gunman. His attention bounced nervously between Sal and her, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice the bulge beneath her blazer. She needed to get her hands free.
Sal took out another stack of bills, and his glare implored her to do something. The perp caught the look and thrust his gun at her.
“You! Over there!” He waved the pistol at the soft-drink station.
Damn it, she needed to get closer, not farther away. Her best chance was to disarm him at close range.
“Now, bitch!”
She took a baby step back.
“Now!” A burst of spittle accompanied the command.
Allison took several steps back, looking deep into those desperate eyes. It was the desperation that concerned her. He wasn’t thinking logically. He was capable of anything. Those wild eyes told her he’d shoot her as soon as look at her, and the knowledge made her chest squeeze. She’d thought about being shot in the line of duty, but she’d never envisioned having her life ended by some tweeker with rotten teeth.
He turned and grabbed at the bills with his free hand as Sal stacked them on the counter.
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