Expired Refuge

by Lisa Phillips

  He’d been there when she was bitten. Because of that, dogs wouldn’t be his first choice, even though that incident and this one had nothing to do with each other.

  But this was about pulling out all the stops to find Stiles.

  They stopped in the front yard. The very empty front yard in front of the quiet ranch house, surrounded by at least six vehicles in different states of repair—or disrepair—depending upon how you looked at it. There were people here.

  So where was everyone?

  Conroy was just about to call out and announce their presence—like it wasn’t obvious to anyone who cared to look out the window—when the front door opened.

  Tate Hudson stepped out onto the front porch.

  Wilcox actually flinched. “You cannot be serious.”

  “You wanna explain this?”

  Before he could answer Conroy’s question, Mia strode forward to confront Tate herself. “You’re in there while he’s harboring a fugitive? You’re working with him, yet have no idea who this psycho is.”

  Hudson said nothing.

  The door behind him stayed open, and Ed Summers strode out wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Running shoes. Beanie. A silver chain hung over the collar of his tee.

  He took a drag from his cigarette. “Mia Tathers. That you, all grown up?”

  Conroy held his breath. It was a test. Ed knew she was fully aware of his role in her sister’s death. No one here was confused about that. What he really was asking, was what that made them now. Enemies? Nothing? Their connection could go several different ways, and Ed needed to get the lay of that land so he knew how much to reveal and where they stood with each other. Particularly considering the fact she was a federal agent now.

  If she had an ax to grind and some determination to see it through, Mia could become a very painful thorn in Summers’s side. One he’d be determined to rid himself of.

  Summers’s interference was the last thing Conroy needed when he was still working to persuade her to stay.

  She said nothing about their connection. Just asked, “Which one of your guys showed up in that car?”

  “What?” He half smiled, as though this was a joke.

  She didn’t even react. And she wasn’t joking. “He drove here in that car—” She pointed at the red car, busted up bumper. “—and then disappeared. So either you’re harboring a person of interest in a case we’re hoping will involve attempted murder charges…or you’re about to tell us where he ran off to. You get to decide. Talk, or this becomes a case with multiple defendants.”

  Still smiling. “Is any of this supposed to make sense to me?”

  Conroy said, “Drop the act. We’re not playing around, and you definitely don’t want to be mixed up in this guy’s business. He’s got your boys running around doing his bidding. You’re gonna let that stand?”

  Tate shifted his weight. “Stiles is not inside any of these buildings.”

  Wilcox scoffed. “What are you, Summers’s lawyer or just his lackey?”

  Tate didn’t even glance at her. He stood by Summers on the porch and kept his gaze on Conroy.

  Did he really want to throw down with a known drug dealer? Or was he doing this to get in with Ed and gain the evidence Conroy needed to bring charges? Finally.

  Conroy could have used a heads up, but he would roll with this.

  Wilcox took a step closer, her grip on her weapon a whole lot more determined now. Still just ready. If she did want to shoot someone, it would likely be Tate Hudson.

  And he didn’t miss that. “Stand down, Wilcox.”

  Tate had his thumbs in his pockets, which had the added benefit of his hand being a little too close to his weapon.

  Conroy would’ve said he trusted the private investigator. Before Mia had been taken from Conroy’s house. Now with this? He wasn’t even sure what the guy was about. There was that edge of uncertainty, knowing he wasn’t under any of the rules that Conroy or his people with the police department lived and worked by. A loose cannon could be both good and bad.

  Mia shifted. Conroy didn’t like her being exposed. He’d rather be standing in front of her, but she was here as a federal agent doing her job.

  She said, “Where did Stiles go?” sounding like every inch the cop she was.

  “No one here saw Anthony Stiles.”

  Conroy wondered at Tate’s statement. “So who got out of that red car?”

  “One of my guys,” Ed answered. “No one saw where he went.”

  “But he’s not inside?”

  “Nope.”

  Conroy gritted his teeth. “You want to give me his name?”

  “Had a guy you were looking for. He turned up dead.” Ed took another drag on his cigarette and spoke around a mouthful of smoke. “Why’m I gonna tell you about another one?”

  “Who got out of the car, Ed?”

  “Don’t answer that.” Tate didn’t turn, but was clearly addressing Ed.

  Wilcox said, “You really are his lawyer.”

  “Stay out of this.”

  “Yeah? Then get ready for a world of problems,” she said.

  “You gonna jam me up?”

  “Guess we’ll find out what sticks when you get swept up with the rest of them,” Wilcox said.

  Conroy was done listening to this. “Time for you to decide what side you’re on, Hudson.”

  “By giving us Stiles, or whoever was driving that car.” Mia used a “cop” voice he had to force himself to not get distracted by. This was a woman who could get the job done. One strong enough to weather a whole lot of stuff life threw at her. Especially if the past couple of weeks were anything to go by.

  Tate turned his back to them and leaned in close to Ed Summers, in a way that prevented them from reading his lips. Tate could do things Conroy, as a police lieutenant, couldn’t. He had access to people and places that Conroy would never have, as certain types clammed up when a cop came around.

  What Tate thought he’d get from Ed, Conroy wasn’t sure. Could be he was trying to prove himself after he’d screwed up with Mia being kidnapped. Conroy seriously hoped whatever Tate got from this would be enough for probable cause, so Conroy could persuade the judge to issue an arrest warrant for Summers.

  Tate finished talking. Ed glanced at Mia. Then he lifted his chin to Tate, who had turned back around to face him. “The driver of the car ran to the northwest. There’s a path out into the woods.” He moved down the porch steps while Ed stayed where he was. “I’ll show you.”

  As Tate got close to Wilcox, Conroy heard her hiss, “Because you know so much about this place?”

  He shot her a frown. “You came here to get what you want. So let’s get it.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Hudson. This guy is a killer.”

  “Ed’s guy, no. The guy y’all are after, maybe. Yeah.” Tate shrugged.

  Mia said, “Just show us where he went so we can get on with this and get out of here.”

  Tate shot Wilcox a look, as though Mia was the only reasonable one there. Conroy said, “Let’s go, Detective.”

  Wilcox wound up behind them, bringing up the rear.

  Conroy glanced over his shoulder. She might want as much distance from Tate as possible while still actively participating, but she was still alert and watching out for Mia. Protecting their backs.

  She met his gaze and nodded. Unhappy with Tate, but all in on this case—and with Mia.

  Conroy figured he’d ask Tate the questions Wilcox probably wanted the answers to. So he said, “Why are you here, mediating between us and Summers?”

  Tate kept walking, glancing once over his shoulder. “Figured you could use a go-between. Help everyone keep their heads on straight.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wilcox said, “Don’t expect gratitude from me. You’re protecting him. Helping him skate out from under pressure.”

  “Your kind of pressure don’t work on some people, Van,” Tate argued.

  “I told you not to call me tha
t.”

  Mia, beside Conroy, said, “Did you see who got out of that car?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wilcox said, “So you were already here?”

  Tate sighed. “Yes, Savannah. It’s a free country, and I can go where I please.”

  She said nothing.

  Conroy wanted an idea how far the guy could have gotten considering the time they’d wasted talking to Summers. How able bodied was the guy, and how long was this path? “Can we have a name or get a photo? I’d like to know the guy when I see him.”

  Tate shot him a frown. “So none of you saw the driver’s face? That isn’t good.”

  Mia said, “I got only a quick glance at his face. It was the same car Stiles put me in before Meena and her boys took me out of there.”

  “But you can’t ID him as chasing after you today? Means you have no reason to bother Summers and no reason to believe he’s in league with Stiles.”

  “Don’t over analyze this. The common denominator is Summers.”

  Tate’s eyebrows rose. “You, Conroy Barnes, are going to play this one fast and loose?”

  Mia shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

  Conroy said, “We do this right. People’s lives are at stake and that cannot be forgotten. This guy, Anthony Stiles, has proven he’s not immune to concocting elaborate scenarios to scare the ever-loving—”

  Savannah said, “Yeah.” Covering for him, so he didn’t say something he shouldn’t.

  “—out of people.” He didn’t want to be bringing it up but hadn’t actually mentioned the dog incident to Tate. Or the explosion. Or the intruder.

  Tate turned and stopped. “Are you sure you didn’t get a concussion when your car exploded?”

  Conroy kept walking. Maybe he’d read about it in the paper.

  “Did you?” Mia asked as they moved past Tate.

  “No.” He almost wanted to laugh or hug her. The compassion on her face was so cute. Conroy glanced back to tell Wilcox to get a move on.

  A gunshot rang out through the trees.

  Conroy launched himself at Mia, who grabbed for him at the same time. They fell together. Guns. Limbs. Everything got tangled and they rolled, coming to a stop side by side.

  Conroy said, “Okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was breathy, her face close to his.

  He looked over at Wilcox. “Detective?”

  She was under Tate, who had shielded her with his body. He’d dived on her to protect her. In the heat of the moment, choosing to risk himself to safeguard her.

  “I’m good.” She shoved Tate off. “Ugh. You’re enormous. Get off.”

  Tate rolled to the side and sat up. “One shot.”

  “Job done?” Conroy held out a hand to help Mia to her feet. They clasped wrists and he hauled her up.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  Tate and Wilcox followed. They all fanned out, eyes open as they searched the area.

  “Over here.” Savannah had stopped. When they’d caught up, she said, “One shot.”

  Right between the eyes. Another person involved in all this was dead.

  Conroy sighed. “Summers isn’t going to like this at all.”

  Mia said, “He isn’t the only one.”

  Twenty-two

  Conroy called it in. Tate did the same, though Mia didn’t know who he called, and he walked too far away for her to listen in.

  Wilcox wasn’t happy.

  “I guess you didn’t need another open case.” Mia stowed her weapon in its holster.

  “Cases I don’t mind. But I could use help.” Savannah lifted her brows. “Looking for a detective’s job? Cause I’m in the market for a new partner.”

  Mia didn’t even want to think about working for the Last Chance County Police Department. Having Conroy be her boss. Might be good. Might also be a total disaster.

  She moved to the body and crouched, looking at the face. It was always better when there was a face, even if the person was dead. She didn’t do grizzly violent crimes. At least not without going home and not eating for two days.

  There had only been that one shot. This guy was executed. Shot at close range by someone he knew, or at least well enough to let them get that near. “Scorched.”

  “What’s that?” Savannah shifted close to her side.

  “The burn mark around the wound. He was shot at really close range, meaning someone caught him off guard.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t suicide?”

  It sounded like a loaded question. Mia figured it was a test. Partly to figure out if she knew what she was doing, and partly to distract them all by processing the scene.

  She said, “The angle is straight. I think. Can’t tell for sure without the medical examiner, or coroner, saying for sure, but the scorch is a circle. Not a smudge. Center of the forehead, square on, shows that he didn’t kill himself.”

  “So Anthony Stiles killed him because we got too close after the wild goose chase he took us on.”

  Mia straightened. “It’s a theory.”

  “You got a better one?”

  “No, but I’d like to know why he didn’t just wait around and pick the rest of us off, too. Why kill this guy who probably doesn’t mean a thing to him and then split?”

  Savannah frowned. “Well.”

  Tate wandered back over. “She’s got a point.” His attention shifted, and she turned to see what had caught his gaze.

  Two cops, a duffel bag and backpack between them, trudged down the path toward them. Conroy met them twenty feet away, and she could see in their stances the respect they had for their lieutenant.

  “Is there a medical examiner in Last Chance?”

  Wilcox said, “There’s a doctor who’ll take cases like this. He’s solid.”

  Mia nodded. As soon as the officers headed their way, she said, “Gloves?”

  One glanced at Conroy, who nodded. “This is Special Agent Tathers.”

  “Rich’s daughter?” The cop evidently knew her. He was older, maybe pushing fifty, but still trim and strong in appearance. Older than Tate for sure, though she didn’t think she knew him.

  “Among other things,” Mia said. “Yeah.”

  She’d never been satisfied getting pegged as one thing. Defined by someone else. She could barely tolerate the way feds were defined by the badge, much preferring to earn someone’s respect because of the job she did going forward. Not because of the title she had earned in the past.

  The other officer, younger and looking at her with respect, handed over a pair of rubber gloves.

  Mia pulled them on and then dug into the victim’s front pocket. The outline of his wallet on one side, a faded edge in the denim. This side was clearly his cell phone. Men and their deep pockets—able to carry their belongings on them without needing a purse because a cell phone would actually fit in their pants pocket. Lucky.

  Tate said, “Passcode?”

  Mia realized that the two cops, along with Conroy, Wilcox and Tate, were standing around her. “No.” She reached over and swiped the home button with the victim’s thumb. “And, there we go.”

  She handed it over to Conroy.

  “Don’t want to look at it?”

  She shrugged. “You know some of the players. Might make more sense to you.”

  He actually looked impressed.

  “I want to know if you find anything about Stiles, though.”

  “Okay.”

  Mia pulled off the gloves and wandered around while she surveyed the area. Just wilderness. Overgrown land peppered with old trees. Most had fallen down. Dry and dead. Winter had come, leaving the damaged and struggling trees with no resources to fight the onslaught of cold.

  She felt like that.

  Brittle. Frozen from the inside, without the strength to fight the season that had come.

  Why did it have to be so hard?

  “No!”

  Mia recognized the voice before she even turned.

  “No, no, no!”
Meena ran right for the body. Leggings and a shirt short enough to reveal a sliver of her midriff. No jacket. Big earrings, wild hair, and a pair of black boots. She stumbled and kept screaming.

  Mia jogged to meet her halfway. Conroy did the same, but he let Mia wind an arm around her sister and haul her back. The two of them crowded her. Mia let go.

  Her sister screamed and launched herself toward the body.

  Mia caught her around the waist again. “Don’t.” She clutched her sister’s arms, even though it hurt, and held them by her sides so she could stare into her face. “There’s nothing you can do for him. Not anymore.”

  Meena’s legs gave out. Mia didn’t have time to catch her. She crouched, wincing. “It’s cold.”

  Conroy handed over his jacket, and she tugged it around her sister’s shoulders.

  “You knew him?”

  Her sister shot her a teary glare.

  “I have no idea who this guy is,” Mia said. “So why don’t you tell me who he was to you.”

  It wasn’t the same guy who’d been in the hallway at the house. Likely it was the man who’d been driving the red car, though she couldn’t be sure when she’d only gotten a split-second look.

  Meena sniffed. “We were…” She didn’t finish.

  “Involved?”

  Meena nodded. A tiny movement. She’d cared about him.

  And Mia unashamedly intended to use that care and intimacy as leverage to get her sister to tell her everything about her lover’s involvement with Anthony Stiles. As much as she knew. And even more, considering there were likely things she could point to that would help them find this guy.

  Last time they’d talked was after Meena had held her captive for hours. That put her in the position of power, and Mia in the vulnerable spot. Now the tables were well and truly turned. Mia held all the authority here. She could make or break her sister’s life over this.

  Which was why she was a cop.

  Because justice meant more than what she wanted.

  It occurred to her then that was why she’d left Last Chance County in the first place. She’d known being a cop was what she wanted to do. She’d gone seeking justice elsewhere. In her own way.

  Conroy said, “He was talking to Stiles?”

  Meena made a face, while Mia figured he’d asked it because she’d just been silently standing there not doing anything or saying a word.