“You’re stalling,” he said. “And the price just went up. I want six figures.”
Lane chuckled, as if they had some private joke together. He returned to his chair and leaned back, setting the drink on the desk in front of him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting greedy.”
“This is the last time, too. Then I’m out. You have any more problems after this, call someone else.”
Lane smiled. “No one’s ever really out.”
“I am.”
He sipped his drink smugly.
“And I want my money tomorrow, or I’m out before this even gets done. I don’t think you want those kinda loose ends.”
Lane watched him for a few moments, as if debating his strategy. They both knew there was nothing to debate, because for once, Lane wasn’t calling the shots. He was between a rock and a hard place this time, and he knew it.
“You realize, don’t you, that you’re all over the map with this,” Lane said easily. “First, you tell me the DNA woman’s a problem and we need to get rid of her. When that doesn’t work out, you tell me it’s okay because we need her help. Now you’re saying we need to get rid of her again. Which is it?”
“We need her gone.”
Lane’s expression hardened. “You know, I’m beginning to think I’m being lied to. You told me she didn’t see you.”
“She didn’t.” He remembered the flash of eye contact after she jumped from the Jeep and looked back over her shoulder. The sunglasses had slipped. It had been just an instant, but he was becoming less willing to take risks. He was way too exposed.
Lane gazed into his glass and shook his head. “I’d just as soon not part with that kind of money. And I’d just as soon not have another body on my hands. Why don’t you intimidate her?”
“I did.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, she’s fucking a cop. It won’t be long before they put their heads together and figure this out. Then you’ve got two problems to deal with.”
“Who’s the cop?”
“The same one who’s in charge of the murder case.”
Lane’s eyebrow tipped up. “Which one?”
He gritted his teeth. “Both of them.” Lane knew he wasn’t happy about taking out a cop, but it had been unintentional.
He felt his composure sliding, felt the anger bubbling to the surface. Lane represented everything that was wrong with this country, and he hated the man’s guts. He hated even more that he took money from him. But he kept a lid on that hate. Emotion was a weakness, and Lane was looking for any weakness he could exploit.
Better to keep this a business transaction, cold and impersonal.
He downed the whiskey in one sip, and it scalded a path down his throat. He set the glass on the desk. “One hundred grand. Tomorrow. Then I finish this for you. You wait any longer than that, the DNA woman and this detective are going to figure things out, and everything you’ve built over the last twenty years is going to come crashing down around your head.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “And then you’re going to be wearing an orange jump-suit and missing your whores and your Jameson and wishing you’d given me every dime I asked for and more.”
He towered over the desk now. It was a war of wills, and he won it because they both knew he was right.
“I’ll wire it tomorrow,” Lane said. “And then I want this over.”
The man walked to the door, hiding his relief. Six figures. It had been a shit day, but he’d salvaged it. He turned around, with his hand on the door frame. “Hey, by the way, I saw that nice black Audi down at El Patio.”
“So?”
“So, every badge in town hangs out there. Think about it.”
Lane waved him off.
He opened the door to leave. This guy’s ego was going to be his downfall. “I will get out. And next time you have a problem, I won’t be around to fix it.”
“Yeah?” Lane leaned back in his chair and looked amused. “Where will you be?”
“Anywhere but here.”
CHAPTER 15
She came awake slowly. He watched her. Ric had gotten up earlier to stoke the fire, partly for warmth but mostly so he could look at her in the light of it. He ran his hand over the generous curve of her hip, and her eyes drifted open.
He propped himself up on an elbow. She looked from him to the fire, then back to him again.
“What time is it?” She sat up and pulled the blanket over herself.
“Six.”
He held her gaze for a long moment and saw all of it come back to her, everything they’d done together, in sweet, raunchy detail. She swung her legs out of bed. At some point, they’d unfolded the couch and made it up with blankets, but it was a mess now. Ric would have been happy to mess it up some more, but she grabbed her shirt off the floor and pulled it around her. She gave him a self-conscious smile before slipping away to the bathroom.
So much for jump-starting the day.
He pulled on some clothes and went outside. The air had a bite, which he needed pretty badly, and he did a quick survey of the perimeter before picking up the ax he’d left stuck in the stump near the tool shed. He hacked away at some oak limbs until his shirt was damp and his heart pounded. He had no idea where this pent-up energy was coming from when he’d spent most of the night not sleeping, but he needed to get rid of it.
Fireside Mia was gone, and it was back to reality. Last night had been about avoidance, and Ric was fine with that. He could think of worse ways to procrastinate. But he’d seen regret on her face just now. Embarrassment, too. And it pissed him off.
He returned to the cabin with enough wood to build a bonfire. She was standing at the sink in the light of the window, fully dressed. She’d showered already, and her damp hair was pulled back in a clip.
“I smuggled that evidence out of the crime lab and took it to an incinerator.”
He stared at her back.
“It’s gone.”
Ric dumped the wood onto the floor and walked over to where she stood. Her gaze was fixed on something out the window, but she didn’t seem to be looking at it.
“Say that again.”
“You heard me.” She turned to face him and looked braced for an assault.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
She sank into the chair and looked at him nervously. His alarm grew with every fidget of her hands. She wasn’t joking.
“Someone threatened you?” He had the insane hope that she’d say yes, someone held a gun to her head. Why else would she do it?
“They had Sam. Or at least, they said they did, and I believed them.” She looked down at her lap. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. It’s gone. All of it. I watched it burn.”
Ric stared at her. Something about her calm infuriated him. She’d watched it burn. All that evidence. A bitter lump lodged in his throat.
He knew she’d been lying. He’d known it the second she’d started talking in Rachel’s office. At the time, she’d looked miserable. Guilty. And more than a little bit afraid of him, much as she looked now.
Ric turned his back on her and muttered a curse.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it to my face, whatever it is. I know you’re mad at me.”
“ ‘Mad’ doesn’t cover it.”
“Damn it, look at me!”
He turned around.
“He threatened Sam! What was I supposed to do?”
“But he’s okay now, right? It was some kind of scam?”
She surged to her feet, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare question me! What would you have done if someone had Ava? If someone put her voice on the phone? You would have done anything!”
He started to say something but stopped himself. She was right.
He clenched his teeth and felt the anger washing over him. She’d lied to him. That was bad enough. But wor
se, someone was terrorizing her, and she’d gone all this time without telling him or asking for his help—not just as a friend but as a cop. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until every bit of information she’d been hiding from him came spilling out.
He closed his eyes and made himself get a grip. When he opened them again, she was watching him.
“Where?” he asked.
“Where did I do it?”
He nodded.
“An abandoned factory. Out on Highway 12.” She shook her head. “Why does it matter? It’s like I told you, there’s nothing left.”
“Are you all right now?”
“Not really. I’m not hurt.” She shrugged. “My reputation is ruined, though.” Tears filled her eyes, and she looked away. “Every case I’ve ever touched will probably come under fire.”
Ric waited while she composed herself. Obviously, she’d been tearing herself up over this.
“No more lies, Mia. I need you to be honest now.”
“I am.”
“Something spooked you the other night and made you run. What was it?”
She cleared her throat and looked down. “He was in my house.”
“Who?”
“The man who carjacked me and killed Frank. The person behind all this.” The fear in her eyes pulled at him. “I had these Mardi Gras beads in my Jeep, hanging from my mirror. They were a souvenir from a wedding in New Orleans. When I came home from dinner with you, they were sitting on my table.”
“Did you—”
“I took them to the lab already. No prints, nothing.”
Another spurt of anger, but this time it was directed at himself. He’d known something was wrong that night, and he should have stayed with her, but instead, he’d let her send him away.
He watched her closely now, trying to read her mind. She wasn’t much of a liar, but she was good at hiding things. And she was still doing it—he could tell.
That was going to end today. This was a murder investigation, and they were doing it his way from here on out.
He checked his watch. “All right, let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Highway 12.”
“But I told you—”
“Save the argument, Mia. I want a look at this crime scene.”
CHAPTER 16
Mia stood in the mud, shivering. The temperature had climbed above thirty, but a front had moved in, and a blanket of moisture had settled over everything. She hunched her shoulders against the chill as she watched Ric tromp around the site. He was in detective mode now—had been since they’d left the safe house.
“You say he was watching you?”
“I don’t know. I just think he was.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her barn jacket and stepped closer. “Something he said over the phone made me think he could see my car as I pulled in.”
The metal door to the incinerator stood open, and Ric shone his flashlight inside it for the third time. Nothing but ashes.
“And where did he leave the tongs?”
Mia walked over to the spot and pointed. “There. That’s where I left them, too. Our fingerprint tracer lifted several good prints but said it would take a few days to run them through.”
Ric muttered something.
“What?”
“You should have given it to me,” he said. “I could have had our guy turn it around same day. He owes me a favor.”
“I don’t know your guy. I know my guy. And I trust him.”
His gaze shot up. “What does that mean?”
“I think this person, whoever he is, is in law enforcement.”
Ric’s expression darkened. “Why’s that?”
“His gun, for one. It looks just like yours.”
“This is one of the most common pistols out there.”
“That’s because they’re standard issue for so many law-enforcement agencies.” Mia had researched it. “Also, he knew things. Like how the lab works, where things are stored during processing. I talked to our evidence clerk, and someone called her twice to check on the status of that evidence and find out which person in our lab was assigned to it. He claimed to be a detective.”
His brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Jonah Macon.”
Ric looked away and shook his head. Then he walked around to the front of the building, and Mia followed.
“I looked inside already,” she said. “No cigarette butts. No soda cans. If he was in there, it looks like he cleaned up after himself.”
The door stood ajar, and he pushed it open, causing a rusty squeak. He stepped inside, and again she followed.
The place was empty except for an overturned milk crate and a stack of wooden shipping pallets. The floor was dusty concrete, but there were no fresh footprints. Light streamed through the broken second-story windows. Ric walked into the center of the room and looked around.
“What makes you think he was watching from the building?” His voice echoed through the cavernous space.
“I don’t know. At the time, I just thought that’s where he was. Where else would he be?”
They walked back outside. Mia looked around, but all she saw were pastures transected by the highway. There was a farmhouse about half a mile up the road, but it had pickups and a tractor out front. Not the sort of spot where you could camp out and watch someone unnoticed.
Ric surveyed the area, then walked north, toward a rise about a hundred yards away. The ground sloped up to a wire fence that bordered what looked to be the grounds of the former factory. A couple of mesquite trees swayed in the breeze, but they were too slender for anyone to hide behind. A pair of low boulders sat between them, and Ric crouched down there.
“Bingo.”
She joined him beside the rocks, which were about the size of two tires. “You think he was here?”
“Looks like he was prone. See the grass flattened down? And these marks where he dug the toes of his boots in?” A cold look had come into Ric’s eyes, one she was beginning to recognize. He took the threat to her personally, and she wasn’t sure what to think of that. It didn’t make her special, necessarily. He was a cop—he was protective by nature.
“This was his blind,” he said. “He set up here, probably before he made the call, then waited for you to come. He probably watched every move you made through a rifle scope.”
Fear rippled through her. “Why didn’t he just shoot me then?”
“Why would he? You were doing exactly what he wanted. Now that it’s over, though, maybe he thinks it’s time to eliminate you.” Ric frowned down at the rock and rubbed a finger over a black mark on it. “He smoked a cigarette here, too, while he was waiting. Stubbed it out, but I don’t see the butt.”
They spent a few minutes separately combing the area until Ric let out a whistle.
“Found something.”
“Don’t touch it.” Mia pulled a small kit from her pocket and walked over. She handed him some tweezers and unfolded a paper bag, although she couldn’t even see what he was looking at.
“What is it?”
“Cellophane wrapper from a pack of smokes.”
Mia looked at the clear plastic. “A butt would be better for DNA.”
He stood up and dropped the wrapper into the paper evidence bag. The corner of his mouth curled up. “You’re making it too complicated. I bet we get a print.”
Mia looked around, uncomfortable standing there, even in the presence of an armed police officer. The place felt spooky, and she pictured eyes watching her from every direction.
“The more I see of this guy, the more I think he has military training.” Ric’s voice was serious again.
“You don’t think he’s a cop?”
“Could be he’s both. Anyway, if he is military, I’m guessing it’s in the distant past.”
“Why is that?”
He reached out and sank his fingers into her hair. It was the first time he’d touched her since they’d left the cabin.
“Because he missed, querida. A man on his game would have made the shot.”
Mia’s heart pounded. A bubble of panic rose in her throat. She smiled. It was either that or burst into tears. “Guess I’m lucky, then, huh?”
“Don’t be lucky. Be smart.” Ric’s hand dropped away, and he looked out over the horizon. “His pride’s at stake now. He won’t miss again.”
Jonah tossed his empty can into the trash and waited for the Red Bull to kick in. He’d been up half the night on this case, and he was starting to feel it.
“So, we’ve got a print at the lab from your cigarette wrapper, three matching shell casings, but no murder weapon and still nothing on the missing Jeep,” Jonah said.
He and Ric were in one of the conference rooms at the station house, comparing notes on their cases. Ric seemed convinced that they were all connected, although Jonah hadn’t totally bought into the theory. Shooting and stabbing were pretty different as far as MOs went. Seemed to him like two different perps.
“That’s all we have on the shooter,” Ric said. “At least, until that sheriff’s deputy gets back to me with whatever they found yesterday at the gas station.”
“If there was something to find, they probably would have found it by now.”
“Our best bet is that print.” Ric rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The lab is running it through AFIS. We’ll see what comes back.”
Jonah scarfed down the last bite of a soggy Italian sub and watched his partner. He looked tense, tired. He’d probably been up all night, too, but Jonah doubted he’d been working.
“Where’d you stash Mia?” he asked.
“Somewhere safe.”
Jonah waited for more, but he didn’t elaborate.
“Update me on the girl in the lake,” Ric said, changing the subject. “Didn’t you have a message in to that sheriff?”
“Still no ID on her. They thought they might get something off that cinder block, but so far, no word. Got some stuff on Fort Worth, though.” Jonah shoved the trash away and flipped through the pages of his notepad. “I’ve been working on that guest list from the country-club party where Laura Thorne was last seen.”
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