Expired Refuge

by Lisa Phillips

  Conroy tucked her against him and held her. His arms around her. One hand rubbed across her back, side to side. How was it that he could be so reassuring without words?

  She blew out a long breath that broke more than once. Don’t cry. “Dad.” There was still too much to do.

  He patted her back twice. It had the same soothing feel to it, but it was his signal to get moving. She felt him shift against her, but his cheek didn’t move from the top of her head.

  When they finally stood, she saw him pull out his phone and speak into it.

  When he was done, he turned to her and mouthed again, “Come on.”

  He guided her like a sleepy kid that didn’t want to go to bed. Gentle but firm, like there were no other options than to just go. Conroy helped her inside. Her head hurt, and her leg, along with everything else. But there was no way to do this in a way that it wouldn’t.

  He shifted her over and bent down to touch the wound on her leg. She sucked in a breath and moved out of reach. That stung, but she didn’t want to spend time on it. Not when her father was unconscious and one of his officers dead.

  He tugged her good arm around his shoulder. They walked to the door. Laborious steps that shot tremors of pain through her head and shoulder. He had his gun out and held it by his side with his free hand. Because there was still danger?

  Mia couldn’t fight. Not when she was in serious pain. Even though it seemed like this might not be over, she’d never felt safer in her life than she did right now. He’d come here to save her.

  Mia opened her mouth, then realized she couldn’t have a conversation with him. Lights across the living room window flashed red, blue, red, blue against the curtains. Help was here. A tear rolled down her face.

  He deposited her on a stool at the bar and moved to open the front door. An officer appeared at the mouth of the hall, the second one to show up. Whatever he had to say to Conroy, it wasn’t good news.

  EMTs stepped into the house. The first one came straight to her. She shook her head and was about to motion to the hall when she decided to just go there. Mia made a beeline for her father, shoving away the hands that tried to stop her.

  She needed to see her dad.

  Donaldson still held his gun on Stiles, who stood facing the wall. She moved into the bedroom where her father was still unconscious. Mia sagged onto the bed beside her father. She touched his face with the back of her hand. Clammy skin. The bed covers were damp under his side, blood from the wound on his back. She bent her head and prayed, which was how the EMTs found her when they caught up to her.

  She kissed his forehead and went to leave, turning to the side so the EMTs could see him. When they entered, she motioned to him.

  Conroy came in last, pausing for a brief conversation with Donaldson. They didn’t speak long.

  Donaldson said, “Okay,” if she read his lips right. Conroy nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.

  She watched as he leaned into Stiles, speaking low into the man’s ear. Mia moved to them. She wished she could hear what he said.

  His whole demeanor was tense, almost lethal. This man had cost him. One officer dead, one shot. Two of Summers’s men were dead as well. Her father…

  People would grieve over the lives Stiles had taken.

  She started towards Conroy. One of the EMTs got in her way. A nice looking guy she’d never met before. He shifted her hair the way Conroy had done, but this time she flinched.

  Conroy touched her elbow. She grabbed his bicep and held on, their forearms against each other. He said something to the EMT.

  She felt him touch her ear.

  Mia gritted her teeth and let him do what he had to do. As soon as he lowered his hand, she turned to face him, her side close to Conroy’s body.

  The EMT glanced at Conroy and said something.

  Conroy frowned. He motioned to her father and spoke. It was an order.

  That was good enough for her, regardless of what the EMT thought of what he’d said. Whoever he was. She moved to Conroy, ready to do that thing again. The one where she sagged into his arms. Pure relief. Maybe a hug. Maybe one of his soft lip touches.

  Donaldson’s movement caught her eye.

  Mia wanted to watch him walk Stiles out. She wanted to see the moment the cop did that top-of-the-head touch as he lowered Stiles into the car. Cuffs securing his arms behind his back.

  They stood on the grass of the front yard while it happened. It was as satisfying as she’d hoped it’d be.

  She glanced at Conroy.

  He slid an arm around her waist, taking the weight of her arm off her shoulder. Wow, that felt better. She leaned into him.

  A tiny smile curved the corners of his lips. He leaned in, and they hugged. It was more than that, it was a shared moment. Closeness. Intimacy. She’d been taken. He had come to get her. Now they were all safe. Her father would go to the hospital, and Stiles was no doubt headed for jail.

  When he pulled back, it was to take a towel one of the firefighters gave him. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, then pressed the towel to her ear. She probably moaned. He kissed her forehead.

  She winced. Ouch. After she got seen at the hospital and made sure her father was all right, she needed to take a nap.

  His lips curled up, and she felt them against the skin of her neck. At this rate he’d wind up enticing her to do more than just think about sticking around. She might even make a list of what she’d have to do to make that happen.

  Quit her job, for one.

  Move back to town.

  Not failure, just a fresh start. A return home that would begin a new chapter in her life. One that she hoped would involve Conroy.

  Mia touched her hands to his cheeks. She lifted up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t long or deep. Just a moment. A promise.

  His eyes flared.

  She’d surprised him, and he liked it. Until something else took his attention. Conroy moved half a step back.

  She wanted to cling to him but forced herself to still so she didn’t jar her body. She turned to see what it was.

  The EMTs rushed out, wheeling her father on a stretcher. One was astride him, pumping her father’s chest.

  Conroy reached for her.

  Mia scrambled out of his hold and raced for her dad.

  Thirty-three

  “I’ve got a pulse. Let’s go.”

  Conroy watched as they loaded Rich into the ambulance. Mia climbed in with them. She turned back to him.

  He nodded.

  She had to be free to go. Not only did she need to be with her father, but she’d been injured, too. If she hoped to make a full recovery, the hospital was the best place for her to be. The hearing loss could be worse than even she or anyone else realized. Long-term damage? Oh, please, Lord. He hoped not.

  He’d wanted to get her an application for his police department, but now everything had changed. He needed to ask her doctors if she was still fit to continue her duties as a cop.

  The ambulance doors shut and it sped away, lights and sirens going. Out front of the rental house where Stiles had held Rich and Mia prisoner, people now swarmed. Emergency services. Onlookers being held back by his cops.

  Conroy pushed off the exhaustion and got to work. He had a dead cop on scene, visits to make. A hospital he’d eventually end up at to check on his officer who’d been hurt and, of course, Rich and Mia. But first, there was plenty to do here.

  “Donaldson!” He trotted to the officer, about to leave.

  The kid lifted his brows. “Lieutenant?”

  “I’m headed to the office as soon as I’m done here. I wanna talk to you.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant.”

  “Good.” He clapped the kid on the shoulder. Both of them knew he meant “good” more than just this conversation—they’d also done a good job here.

  Conroy made sure everyone knew what their orders were. He wanted the deceased officer taken care of properly, with respect. It was a murder scene. But
the deceased was also one of his people—a friend and brother to those watching.

  He got into his car and drove to the officer’s house. It was an hour before he made it to the police department, having first paid a visit to the officer’s elderly mother to inform her that her son was deceased and making arrangements for her sister to come and stay with her.

  Conroy was seriously running out of steam by the time he walked into the office.

  Kaylee looked from her computer monitor to him, her phone handset tucked between her ear and shoulder. “Uh…you okay, boss?”

  “No.” He didn’t elaborate. Just headed for the door to the bull pen. He hauled it open and walked through. “Where’s Wilcox?”

  Kaylee hung up. “I’ll find out.” She immediately picked up the phone again and got dialing.

  Conroy poured himself a cup of coffee and found Donaldson. “Get Stiles in the interview room for me and then get some sleep. Yeah?”

  Donaldson nodded, relief washing over his face. “Copy that, Lieutenant.”

  Conroy got the file he’d had Kaylee put together for Wilcox when they first learned someone was targeting Mia. Now, given all he’d done, Conroy figured he wasn’t going to get a whole lot of cooperation. There was no deal to be made with Stiles—or anyone who thought they could show up in his town and tear through it, leaving destruction in their wake.

  Anyone who would leave an elderly woman distraught like that…

  “Hey.” Wilcox shook his shoulder.

  Conroy blinked. “Hey.”

  “What’s up? Kaylee said you were looking for me.”

  “Where were you?”

  Wilcox frowned. “I’m going to factor in how wrecked you look right now and ignore that tone. Considering I was with Tate Hudson this whole time, trying to ascertain exactly his involvement with Stiles and Ed Summers.”

  Conroy nodded. “Okay. Good.” He ran his hands down his face.

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  He updated her about what had happened with the officer, and how he’d finally found Mia, along with her father. Just in time.

  “Oh.” Savannah blinked. “No wonder.”

  “No wonder what?” He hadn’t even told her about wanting to offer Mia a job, or what her hearing loss could mean. Stiles had to have discharged his weapon right by her ear. Would she fully recover?

  Wilcox shook her head. “What’s next?”

  “We need to talk to Stiles.”

  She grinned. “Should I bring a phonebook?”

  “Do they even make those anymore?”

  “Okay, you’re good.” She stood and grabbed the file from him. “I was worried you weren’t firing on all cylinders. But I’m still taking lead on this.”

  “Fine by me.” He’d been shot and knocked unconscious again. Didn’t take a doctor to tell him he really wasn’t “firing on all cylinders,” even if Wilcox thought he was all right. Even if the same thing happened to her earlier.

  “What do we want from him? We already know what he did.”

  “Ed Summers.”

  She looked up from the file. “You want him to roll over on Summers? In exchange for what?”

  “The knowledge that he did the right thing for once.”

  Her expression changed.

  “I know. I figure he won’t care at all. I still want to see what he says.”

  “We aren’t giving him a break on any of this, right?”

  Conroy nodded. “He tells us whatever he has, and we decide to use it or not. No deal.”

  They headed into the interview room, and Donaldson left them with Stiles. Wilcox pulled out a chair and sat. Conroy did the same but didn’t pull his chair up to the table the way she had.

  He leaned back. Arms folded.

  Stiles just sat there. The only indication Conroy had that the man felt anything was the look of utter disdain in his eyes. Not just for him, or Wilcox. More like for cops in general.

  “Protective vest?”

  Conroy said, “What’s that?”

  “When I shot you.”

  Ah. “Yes.”

  Skin around the man’s eyes flexed.

  Too bad, so sad. It was juvenile to gloat, but Conroy was just exhausted enough to not care what anyone thought. What would count was how satisfying it’d be to rub the man’s face in it. Better luck next time.

  Wilcox flipped the file open. “Three murders. Two counts of kidnapping and attempted murder.”

  “Guess you caught me,” Stiles said. “Time to lock me up and throw away the key.”

  She didn’t react. “We’ll get on that. First thing.”

  “Assuming Rich Tathers makes it.” Conroy shrugged one shoulder. “Because if he doesn’t, it’ll be four counts of murder.”

  Judging by Stiles’ demeanor, Conroy didn’t think the man cared overly much about whether he spent the rest of his life in prison or not. How a man could exchange his freedom simply for the right to do whatever he wanted, Conroy didn’t understand. He’d been taught to deny his flesh, the human part of his will that was selfish and didn’t want to listen to godly wisdom. He had to shed that every day, every minute, and look to God for direction.

  And yet, for so long he’d still done whatever he thought was best. Sure, he at least attempted to make the more righteous choice, but he fought every battle on his own, instead of looking to God for supernatural strength. Instead of trusting Him.

  Conroy blew out a long breath while Wilcox asked the introductory questions and got Stiles talking.

  “So you show up and you pay Ed Summers a visit. You hear about him before you got here?”

  Stiles frowned at the shift in conversation.

  “Or you just need resources,” Wilcox said. “So you hit up the big local baddie and borrow some of his guys? At least long enough for them to do a job for you, and then you don’t need them anymore.”

  “Tell us about Ed.” Conroy sniffed. “How’d that work?”

  “Asked around.” Stiles shrugged. “I needed...expendable.”

  “But when it came down to it, you’re the one who did the real work.” Like shooting Conroy, firing his weapon right by Mia’s ear. Possibly killing Rich. “Am I right?”

  Stiles shrugged. “Local yokels. Figured they didn’t get out much, so I paid them to have a little fun.”

  “This guy?” Wilcox laid a photo of the first man he’d killed on the table, Tyler Lane. “And this guy?” She laid the second man’s picture beside it. Garrett Hanson.

  “How’d you know his woman didn’t kill them?”

  Conroy said, “Because they were both done the same as your brother.”

  A tendon in his cheek flexed.

  “You figured you’d cause Special Agent Tathers distress by freaking her out, and then you killed Tyler and Garrett the same way she ended your brother.” He leaned forward. “Which was completely justified, by the way. That ruling came down a few days ago. She’s been cleared. She walks away free, no repercussions. You spend the rest of your life in jail.”

  Stiles lifted up. The cuffs that held him to the table clinked as the tether snapped tight. His face seemed to split with rage as he screamed at them. “She murdered him in cold blood! He was fighting for his life, run down like a dog. Then she shot him. Thompson is dead because of her! She had to pay!”

  His rage was a visceral thing. It seemed like he might have actually watched it all go down somehow. Angry that he’d been powerless to stop it. Bitterness had poisoned him much like the way guilt and shame had directed Conroy’s actions. The way Mia had held on to her anger towards Conroy that he’d not been able to stop her sister’s death.

  They had all carried pain. But in their own ways they’d dealt with it and tried to heal. Stiles hadn’t wanted to move past it.

  Recently Mia seemed to have been working to let those feelings go. Maybe even enough she might have fallen for him the way he had fallen for her. Mia was everything he wanted. He just had to persuade her that it was the right thing.
<
br />   And I shouldn’t do that in my own strength. Should I? Maybe You could do that work, Lord. I trust You. Mia is what I want, and I trust You with that.

  The decision to take leave during the investigation of her conduct that led to Thompson Stiles’s death was not made lightly by Mia. The reality of having to see Conroy again and process her feelings toward him had caused her some anxiety. On top of that, each time Anthony Stiles had come after her, things had gotten more and more serious. Using others first in his plan, and then getting up close and personal with Mia in his final attempt.

  All she had been through had to have been hard for her to deal with. Not to mention confusing. Especially when Conroy sprung on her his idea that she could move back and work as one of his detectives. All while she was just sure she had lost her father. Forever.

  “You didn’t kill her,” Conroy helpfully pointed out. “So I guess that means you failed.”

  “Sit down.” Wilcox said, “It’s over for you. Instead of just doing what you came to do—kill Mia, you miscalculated. You got greedy. Wanted to draw it out and make her suffer.” She motioned between herself and Conroy with a flick of her fingers. “We don’t allow that here.”

  She didn’t even know the half of it—the part about the video camera Stiles had set up. He had likely been planning on killing Rich slowly, making Mia watch. Then he’d have killed her. Probably even slower.

  Conroy said, “I don’t care about you. I want Summers.”

  If that involved charges being brought against Meena, then so be it.

  “And if I tell you what I know,” Stiles said, “I get a deal, right?”

  “No.” Wilcox closed the file. “You get nothing. Except the satisfaction that someone like you is off the street. A man who killed a sibling and destroyed a family.”

  Conroy waited, but Stiles said nothing. Conroy stood. “Enjoy prison. You’ll have plenty of time to work through your anger issues.”

  Donaldson stepped in even before Conroy could open the door. “Lieutenant?”

  Wilcox said, “Who died now?” Then she stood. “Oh.”

  Conroy’s heart sank. “Where’s Jess?”

  “In there.” Donaldson swallowed. “The chief…”