Absolute Liability

by Jennifer Becton

  “We’re supposed to focus on the fraud only,” I said, though in truth I’d secretly planned to do the same thing.

  His eyebrows lowered and I knew he didn’t buy my reluctance. “You know as well as I do that what we uncover might help, but in the process, it can’t hurt to see if anyone recognizes Amber’s picture or looks particularly surprised to see you.”

  Well, wasn’t that a kick in the butt? I was going to be bait.

  “Sound good?” Vincent prodded.

  Not really, I thought.

  “Sure,” I said.

  And just like that I had an even bigger target on my back. But at least I had a partner who seemed more than capable of backing me up.

  Vincent stood, and in one blissful moment I realized that he was on the verge of leaving so I could finally be alone.

  I followed him down the hall toward the door. He inspected the lock and nodded. “You do have a gun in the house.” It should have been a question, but that wasn’t the way he said it.

  I blinked at him. “Of course. A Smith and Wesson M&P .40; it’s locked in a safe upstairs.”

  “Well, unlock it. And make sure it’s loaded.”

  Finally, I was alone. I utilized my new locks behind Vincent and, desperate for a shower, went upstairs to my bathroom.

  I turned on the water, stripped off my clothes, and stepped under the hot spray. My muscles began to relax, but my mind was running a hundred miles an hour.

  Where was Amber while I enjoyed a nice, hot shower? Was she suffering? I gulped. Was she dead?

  Abductions were never good. They led to complicated ransom demands or, worse, murder. Amber was a sweet girl, and I didn’t want her future cut short by some baboon. I hoped Tripp and the rest of the police were having some luck with all those ex-boyfriends.

  And maybe in the process, Tripp would meet a nice legal age college girl with a tongue piercing, and she could improve his opinion on mouth jewelry.

  These days, I had no problem seeing Tripp with other women.

  But back in high school, Tripp was all I could think about. We dated during my freshman and sophomore years, and then he graduated and left for college.

  And on the other side of all that, we managed to become friends. We kept in touch during the summers, but we never got romantic again.

  After college, we’d both joined the Mercer Police Department, and that pretty much solidified our platonic friendship. There’s just so much machismo and chest thumping a woman can take, and plenty of that goes on in a police force. I didn’t want it in my romantic life too.

  I sure hoped Tripp and his chest-thumping comrades were having luck finding Amber, though. And I also hoped her abduction would turn out to have nothing to do with me or Southeastern because that meant I wouldn’t be in any danger.

  And if having that thought made me selfish, then so be it. I was quite content with my DOI life. I may have been a cop, and my current job may have required me to carry a gun, but that didn’t mean I was one of those adrenaline junkies who was forever putting myself in jeopardy.

  Sure, I’d done all the mandatory firearms training, and I’d passed all my classes handily, but I still wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of taking a human life. In my time on the MPD, I’d been forced to draw my weapon on suspects on a shockingly regular basis, but I’d never been required to fire it.

  I hoped I never had to resort to using it for something other than intimidating suspects, but if it came down to my life or that of a criminal, I knew I would choose life.

  My life.

  My thoughts had become increasingly disjointed, and the water in the shower began to run cooler, so I rinsed my hair quickly and got out.

  I found Maxwell on my bed. He opened his green eyes halfway, deemed me a non-threat, licked his paw twice, and went back to sleep. If only I could tell as quickly who was a threat and who was not. I put on my favorite pajamas, shoved Maxwell to his side of the bed—sad as it is, the other side of the bed is for my cat, not a man—and climbed in beside him.

  I read for a while, just like I did every night, but I was exhausted. The thought of getting up to meet Helena at seven the next morning convinced me to turn off the bedside lamp.

  Then I flipped it back on and sat up.

  I could have been the one taken that morning. I could be locked in a trunk somewhere. Or dead.

  Or I could be the victim of a rapist, like my sister Tricia had been.

  And despite my fancy new locks, I still felt exposed and vulnerable.

  Well, I was not going to let any of that happen to me. I got up, fished my cell phone out of my purse again, and plugged it in by the bed in case I needed to make a call. Then, I pulled open the door of my nightstand. My little gun safe took up most of the top shelf. I entered the combination on the key pad, and the door clicked open.

  I removed my M&P and checked to make sure it was unloaded, and then, by golly, I loaded it. I put in the full magazine and racked it, relishing the solid clink of the slide, loud in the quiet bedroom. Maxwell looked at me quizzically.

  “Better safe than sorry,” I told him. He must have agreed because he sat up, licked underneath his tail a few times, and then went right back to sleep.

  I put the gun back in the safe, but I did not close or lock it.

  Just in case I needed to access it in a hurry.

  I turned off the light again, and this time I was able to fall asleep.

  Something woke me around 2 AM. I don’t know if it was a sound or the flash of headlights through the blinds, but I shot to consciousness with alacrity. I lay in the bed, straining to figure out what had awakened me. I heard no sound, felt no trace of movement inside the house. Maxwell was still asleep beside me, so perhaps I had been dreaming.

  But then I became aware of the gathering light in my bedroom. A car was driving slowly in front of my house. Very slowly. Suspiciously slowly.

  A chill walked up my back. I didn’t move as I watched the headlights illuminate my room bit by bit.

  Was the kidnapper back to get the right person? Was it the same car I’d seen earlier that night? Had he tried my old house key?

  I shuddered at the thought of the abductor so close by. Just my new locks and my fifty-year-old walls to protect me.

  Or it could have just been some drunk weaving down the road.

  I got up, crept to the window, and peeked outside, but the car was already gone. I turned my head as far to the left as it would go, as if I could contort myself enough to see down the street.

  I stood there for a while, waiting and watching, straining to hear, but the car didn’t return.

  I debated calling Tripp but decided against it. It was probably nothing, and he was likely still working on finding Amber. Time was short, I knew. Abductors, if not caught quickly, often turned into murderers.

  I shivered and crawled back under the covers, but it took me a long time to fall back to sleep.

  “Dammit!” He realized that he was shouting into the cell phone, and even though he was alone in his car and the streets were almost vacant at that hour of the morning, he forced himself to lower his voice. Through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, he said, quieter, “Can’t you do anything right?”

  “I tried, honest, but there were people with her all evening,” the voice said. “First cops, and then some GI Joe. A locksmith too. I watched a while, but I thought she might have noticed me, so I drove away.”

  “Might have noticed you?” His partner couldn’t even watch someone without the person knowing it. His tension began to ratchet up again, but he managed to modulate his tone when he asked, “Did she see you or not?”

  “She didn’t see. I was just paranoid,” the voice said. “I went back late last night. All her lights were off. I tried the key, even though I figured the locks had already been changed. And they were. I couldn’t get in.”

  He took a deep, cleansing breath, willing his calm not to desert him. “Why didn’t you just break in?”

 
; “Just break in? I’ve never broken into a house before. I don’t know how. I was planning to use the key. Besides, she’s probably got a gun, you know. I don’t want to get shot.”

  His partner was starting to sound frustrated.

  Well, he was getting frustrated too.

  “Now? Now you’re worried about guns? Didn’t you think she’d have one when you abducted her from Southeastern?”

  “I guess I hadn’t thought—”

  “Of course she has a gun. She’s a state investigator. They carry guns.” He could feel himself starting to get worked up again, and that wasn’t good. “Let me get this straight: you’ll take the wrong girl at gunpoint in broad daylight, but you won’t break a little window to get the right person?”

  “Look,” the voice said, clearly reaching the breaking point, “yesterday was a big day for me. I never thought I’d kidnap anyone.”

  Well, they could agree on that, at least. He’d never imagined that the little extras he’d been taking on all these years would turn into such a pain in the ass. He’d have to be careful who he partnered with from now on.

  He forced himself to say, “It’s fine. I can work with this.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  “You let me worry about that, and you take care of the other girl until I give the word. You got that?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  He ended the call and stared out the window. He had hoped to have Julia Jackson already so he could be done with this crazy business, but his partner had screwed up again.

  How could he turn this delay into an advantage?

  He reviewed his assets. They had the girl. She was a liability and of no real value. They had the investigator’s house key. Also useless. They had her planner. Helpful, but not immediately pertinent. They had her laptop and the information on her local investigations.

  The solution struck him. It was so simple he almost giggled with glee.

  The extra time would only serve to strengthen his plan in the long run, and that would minimize the risk of their getting caught.

  Yes, if he played his cards right, the DOI wouldn’t give him or his idiot partner a second thought after they found the body.

  The sun had already peeked above the horizon when my alarm sounded at 6:30. Maxwell had abandoned me sometime in the night, and I was alone when I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom.

  I looked in the mirror and found that my hair looked like a well-used string mop. I’d slept on it wet, and it had dried in all directions. I was going to have to put it up for sure.

  I got ready for the day and dressed in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a red button-down blouse. I figured if I was going out as a target, I might as well look like a bull’s eye. I draped a gray and white striped jacket over the footboard of my iron bed. It was summer in the South, and I was going to be hotter than hell, but a jacket was good for interviews. It gave a professional, authoritative air.

  Plus, it would conceal my M&P. I’d found that people tended to be funny about guns, even if a badge were visible.

  I felt the heavy weight of the gun against my hip and saw the shine of the badge clipped to my thick leather belt. I have to admit it was a comfort to know I could defend myself if I encountered the person who’d abducted Amber.

  I would not be a victim.

  I checked my watch. It was almost seven, so I pulled my hair into a bun and ignored the wisps that were already falling around my face. Quickly, I put on my most comfortable boots. If there’s one thing I’d learned as a cop, it’s to wear sensible shoes because you never know where the day is going to lead.

  I sighed at the thought. What would the day bring? Would I be running for my life? Would I be chasing down a man with a gun? Would we find Amber?

  I thought I’d left behind this aspect of police work.

  Apparently not.

  I unplugged my phone, popped it into my purse, and checked the gun one more time. There. I was ready to head to breakfast with the neighbors.

  The cicadas were starting to buzz, and that was a sure sign that the day was going to be hot. Already the morning air felt heavy and thick as I walked across the street.

  Helena greeted me at the door and led me into the kitchen where her husband Tim had taken up the cause of feeding some sort of white cereal to baby Violet, who was kicking her chubby legs and spitting out almost as much cereal as Tim managed to get in.

  I reached over to tousle Violet’s fine hair, and she gave me an oozy smile.

  Helena pointed to a chair, and I took in the full scene as she poured coffee and pulled from the oven plates piled high with bacon and eggs. Their morning routine looked like something out of the 1950s. A family breakfasting together, a full Southern-style meal, a happy baby: it was everything I’d had as a child and then lost as a teen.

  It was comfort and safety and normalcy.

  I thought of the gun on my hip and my reason for wearing it.

  No, there was nothing normal about my life.

  “Okay,” Helena said as she fluttered down into a chair and plunked her elbows on the table. “I’ve done all the Southern hospitality hoo-ha. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  As we ate, I told Helena everything. It all just came out, even though I’d intended to keep it simple. Tim and Helena’s expressions displayed increasing concern. Violet, who had finished her cereal and moved on to applesauce, also showed her concern by churning yellow mush out of her mouth at an alarming rate.

  I finished my tale, and Helena asked, “So the police think you were the intended target?”

  “They aren’t sure,” I hedged, “but because the abductor had my key all day, they wanted to check things out. You didn’t see anyone suspicious around my house yesterday afternoon, did you?”

  Tim sat back and smoothed his blond hair. “I didn’t see anyone suspicious while I was out walking Violet, but I wasn’t really looking.”

  Helena peeked down the hall toward my house as if an intruder might be there now.

  “Well, you’re staying with us tonight. It might not be safe at your place.”

  I knew she meant well, but everything in me rebelled at the idea of bringing danger to their doorstep. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. My locks have been changed, and I was alone there last night and was totally fine. Besides, I am a law enforcement officer. I have protection.”

  “I know, I know,” Helena said as she picked up Violet.

  I watched as she used the baby’s bib to clean the mush off her face and then handed her to Tim.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Helena said. “Tell me about the gentleman who ended up on my doorstep last night.”

  Hoping she’d forgotten, I had no glib remark prepared, so I decided to play dumb. “You mean Vincent?”

  Helena narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side, and I knew she would not let this go. “Is Vincent the name of the big, delicious man I met last night?”

  I pretended to focus on my empty mug for a moment. “Mark Vincent, actually.”

  “Well…dish, girl!” she said as she propped her chin in her hand. “Who is he really?”

  “He’s exactly who I told you: Special Agent Mark Vincent with the DOI. He was sent from Atlanta to help investigate my fraud cases.”

  Helena looked at me with wide, expectant eyes. “And?”

  “And what?” I gave her a wry look, which I hoped conveyed the fact that I’d never given him a thought.

  “Are you going to jump him or what?”

  I laughed despite myself. “No! I’m not going to jump him. We just met. And besides, Counselor, what kind of language is that for an officer of the court to use?”

  “Oh, please,” Helena said with a devious smile, “you should hear how other lawyers speak. I’m tame in comparison, and I’m not going to let you get off that easily.”

  I groaned. “If I admit he’s somewhat good looking, will you agree to continue this conversation later?” I looke
d at Tim, as if his presence were embarrassing me. Any excuse would do if it got me out of this discussion.

  “Fine,” Helena said, but I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “Are you coming to our cookout on Saturday?”

  “I’m smoking a pork shoulder; of course she’s coming,” Tim said.

  “I’ll try to be there,” I said, but I was a little worried about being able to keep up my end of the bargain.

  “Good.” Helena gave me a small, guilty smile. “You could bring a date. Maybe Mark.”

  I rolled my eyes at Tim, and he only shrugged. Married people seemed to like nothing better than to see all their friends similarly shackled. “You can’t just casually slip that in.” I laughed. “Besides, you promised not to talk about him anymore.”

  “Technically, I only promised that I’d continue talking about him later.” She shrugged. “It’s later.”

  I looked at my watch in an exaggerated gesture. “Oh, my, look at the time. It is late. I’d better head to work.”

  Helena laughed. “All right, I’ll let you escape this time. But I won’t give up.”

  I gave her a quick hug and kissed Violet’s head. “I know you won’t.”

  “Morning,” Vincent said as he entered my office on the second floor of the DOI building.

  I returned a “good morning” of my own and looked up at him. I expected to find him looking a little worse after having read all those insurance files at his hotel during the night, but he looked just the same—groomed and stoic. His disturbingly bright blue eyes showed no sign of sleep deprivation. But in the morning light that streamed through the office window, I did notice that his hair was redder than I’d thought.

  Idly, I wondered how old he was. He could have been anywhere from thirty-five years old to a remarkably well-preserved fifty-five. He probably fell somewhere in between. But where?

  I wasn’t going to ask. It was none of my business. At all.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  I wasn’t sure he’d agree with where I’d decided to begin my investigation, so I followed him out of the office without mentioning my plan.