I’ve broken out in a sweat by the time we slow and turn toward the buildings. I search through the window for the two rental cars parked side by side in a parking lot beside the building, where Keegan may be by now. I look for the plane I’ve seen Keegan in before, but the airport is too big. I can’t see it. The King Air taxis to the gate where I’m getting off. And as we approach, I see Keegan’s plane. He’s already tied it down.
I thank the pilots and wait until the door is open, and then I jog down the steps. I’m headed across the tarmac to the FBO when I see the black Tahoe pulling away. I want to punch something.
I hurry into the office, but the guy at the desk has gone to the bathroom. I wait, pacing in front of it, but he takes his sweet time. When he comes back, he’s full of chatter. Keegan must have paid him off to slow me down.
I encourage him to do my transaction as quickly as possible, and a few minutes later I’m in my Enclave, typing the police department’s address into the car’s GPS. I study an overhead view and figure out the shortest route. While it’s loading, I glance at my voice mail.
Chief Gates has left a message. I click on it and hear his voice. “Dylan, I’m sorry about this, but I’ve decided to let Keegan go get Cox. I thought he’d be tied up with the funeral plans, but he insisted that he’s on this. Just stand down and come on back. We’ll reimburse you for any expenses you’ve incurred. Sorry. Let me know when you’re back in town.”
I let out a yell, knowing no one can hear. How did Keegan pull this off, considering all the questions surrounding him now?
I try to think. Maybe there’s enough confusion about the extradition that I could convince them I’m still the one supposed to get her. Keegan will probably get there first, but there’ll be paperwork. They have to get an extradition warrant, and that takes time.
As I’m driving I call the Memphis PD, ask to speak to the detective on Casey Cox’s case. A guy named Leibowitz picks up, and I burst into my pitch. “Hi, my name is Dylan Roberts. I’m working with the Shreveport Police Department on the Casey Cox case, and I’m on my way there right now to transport her. I wondered if you could start processing her extradition paperwork. I’d like to get her back to Shreveport as soon as possible.”
“Uh, I don’t know about that,” the detective says. “We were told you were coming, but then we got different orders. We’re supposed to turn her over to Detective Keegan now.”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “That would be a terrible mistake. She’ll use that in court—that she implicated him in several murders, and you still turned her over to him. It’ll be a publicity nightmare for you guys.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. “I was a little concerned about that too, but our captain wants us to comply with what the Shreveport PD has requested. Keegan is in town. He’s on his way here.”
“So am I.” I grasp at straws, trying to think of a persuasive argument. “Look, this could put him in a bad situation and compromise the investigation. Imagine the narrative if the press gets wind of her accusations and learns you put her in his hands. It has the appearance of impropriety.”
He doesn’t immediately respond, so I hope he’s processing that.
“I’ll call Chief Gates. There’s no hurry here. Just don’t let him have her yet.”
He hesitates again, so I try one last shot. “Look, man. I’m an Afghanistan and Iraq veteran, and I just got hired by the Shreveport PD. If I don’t bring her back, then I probably don’t have a shot at keeping this job.”
“My son is serving right now.”
I seize on that. “Then you know what it’s like. You want him to get a job when he gets back, right? I was in the CID in the army—it’s like being an FBI special agent—and I just got hired on with the Shreveport PD. I have to do this. And if Gordon Keegan has been accused of anything, even by someone who’s taking her last desperate shot, then it doesn’t help anyone if he’s the one bringing her back. I’m sure he’d agree with that if he knew the whole story. Just hold on until I can get there and get Chief Gates on the phone with you.”
“I don’t have the authority to make this decision,” Leibowitz says. “I’ll have to talk to my captain. We’re still waiting for the extradition warrant, so it’ll take a while anyway.”
He hangs up on me. I check my GPS and try to figure out how much farther I’ve got. Only five more miles. I wipe the sweat off my lip and my temples and call Chief Gates, praying he’s still in his office. His secretary puts me right through. “Dylan?” he asks when he picks up.
“Chief, I’m in Memphis. Listen, you’ve got to let me get her. I’m almost there. I came all the way here. Jim Pace wants me to bring her back, and with the accusations made against Keegan—”
“I’m letting him do it, Dylan. It’s a matter of honor with him.”
“But it compromises everything!” I go into the same spiel I gave the Memphis detective. “Look, Chief, there’ll come a time when she talks to the media, and if she tells them you turned her over to the person she claims committed all these murders, they’re not going to give the benefit of the doubt to the cop. They’re going to milk the story for all it’s worth, focusing on the pretty girl who couldn’t have done such a brutal thing, and it might damage the investigation.”
His voice is higher pitched than usual. “On the other hand, if you take her and she somehow escapes, the narrative will be that I put her in the hands of a brand-new hire.”
“But that’s always been my task. I’ve always planned to bring her back when I found her.”
“Well, you didn’t find her. Dylan, I’ve thought it over. I’m just going to let Keegan bring her back. Your job is over here. Come on back.”
He clicks off the phone, ending the call, and I throw it, bouncing it off my seat. No, I can’t let this stand! I have to somehow convince them. I have to protect Casey.
I will not let Keegan kill her.
27
CASEY
My toes are turning blue, but this holding cell could be a lot worse. I don’t mind the cold so much. I have a thin blanket I can put around my shoulders. It’s not long enough to cover my whole body, I guess because they’re afraid I’ll make a noose and hang myself somehow. I’m thankful for my socks. One of the trustees who brought my food told me that when I’m taken upstairs to the general population they’ll issue me some socks, and they don’t fit well and aren’t as good as mine. She let me keep my own for now.
I’m hungry, but even that isn’t as bad as it could be, because they gave me a ham sandwich earlier. That settled my stomach somewhat. I have to say that unburdening my soul and confessing everything to the police—both good and bad—has made me feel much lighter. It’s only the dread of Keegan getting his hands on me that keeps me unsettled.
But God has been with me so far, and I think I saw a flicker of belief on the detectives’ faces when I told them about Keegan. At least there’s doubt there, which I hope will make them look into things. I know that if Dylan knows I’m in custody, he’s probably sent our evidence to some media person, or he’s already taken it to the DA. And I beg God to let Dylan miraculously be the one who’s sent to transport me. That would be a miracle.
I sit on the bench with my back against the painted cinderblock wall, and I doze for a moment. Then suddenly there’s a clang—making me jump—and the door swings open.
“Cox, you’re being extradited to the Shreveport police.”
I get to my feet, confused.
I’m instantly alert as I walk out in my sock feet, looking around me, anxious to see who’s waiting.
Please let it be Dylan. Please let it be Dylan.
As we round the corner to the hallway, I hear a voice that makes my blood chill. Gordon Keegan, cackling like he’s a good old boy and the other detectives are his fishing buds. They’re talking about fantasy football and placing bets. He’s a master.
I look for an exit, but of course there is no way out. As the guard leads me to that
room, I stop. She grabs my arm and her hand moves to her Taser. “Come on. Move!”
I step into the room and see him. The hair on the back of my neck rises. Tears sting my eyes. I can’t look at him.
I feel suddenly hot, my ears burning, my hands beginning to sweat. I can hardly swallow, my mouth is so dry.
The two detectives have clearly already forgotten what I’ve told them.
“Well, if it isn’t the disappearing Casey Cox,” Keegan says. He glances toward one of the guards. “Go ahead and get her personal effects. I’m ready to get her on the road.”
“I want a lawyer,” I blurt. “Before I leave, I need to see my lawyer.”
Keegan looks up. Is that alarm in his eyes? “You can get a lawyer when we get to Shreveport.”
I look at him full on now, my gaze sharp. “My lawyer lives here.”
Detective Briar, who seemed to half believe my story, scratches his head. “Who’s your lawyer?”
“Billy Barbero,” I say. Suddenly fear overtakes me. What am I thinking? I’m going to hire an ambulance chaser to represent me on a murder charge? When he doesn’t even know who I am? But I can’t change course now. “I need to talk to him before they take me. Please call him.”
“So let me get this straight,” Keegan says. “You’ve been interviewing her for hours? And she lawyers up now? Before you extradite her? No way. That’s not gonna happen. She can get a lawyer in Shreveport. I don’t have to say a word to her on the way. I won’t ask her a thing. She can keep her lips sealed and just wait until we get back to say anything. But by God, I am going to take her back.”
I turn my pleading gaze to the detectives. They’re probably running the laws through their heads and considering whether they’ll get blamed if I get off because they violated the rules. No cop wants to be the reason a murder charge is dropped— especially one of this magnitude. I double down on that.
“I could get off on a technicality if you don’t let me see my lawyer. He will tell them in court that I was not allowed an attorney when I asked for one.”
Keegan speaks up quickly. “Once you ask for an attorney we’re not allowed to question you further. That doesn’t mean we can’t take you. In fact, I’m going to Mirandize you right now for the murder of Brent Pace in Shreveport, Louisiana. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
I listen to my rights with my breath held, but my eyes are locked on the doubting Detective Briar. If I can just get him to call Billy Barbero, maybe it will slow things down. Billy doesn’t know Casey Cox from Adam, but he won’t be able to avoid the pull into the limelight if he’s chosen to represent a supposed murderer like me. It may not occur to him that I’m Liana Winters, but he’ll figure it out soon enough.
My hope is dashed when Briar looks at Keegan and says, “It’s your case, man. If you want to take the risk, you can make her wait until she gets to Shreveport. Her lawyer can drive there.”
I close my eyes. When I open them again, Keegan’s got his crow’s-feet activated. He’s thrilled that he’s getting away with this.
Where is Dylan?
I don’t have time for subtlety, so I try again. “If he kills me on the way back to Shreveport, you will know that I told you the truth. If I vanish or if I don’t make it back, please look into what I told you. There are people who know the truth and have the evidence, and they will hold you accountable.”
Keegan cackles like he just delivered a hysterical punchline. “This girl’s good. You got to hand it to her, boys. She doesn’t let up. Come on, get her back into her clothes. Give me her personal effects and we’ll be on our way.”
The female guard takes me into another room and watches as I change back into my clothes. I feel like I’m going to throw up, but somehow I hold it back. Instead, I whisper aloud, “God, it’s in your hands now.”
The guard looks disinterested as she walks me back to the detectives and hands me over to the man who will murder me.
28
DYLAN
There’s not a parking space open at the jail, so I double park behind the correctional facility’s transport van and run inside. The guard who’s supposed to be manning the front has stepped out for a moment, so I stand at the window, pacing in the tiny area next to the steel door into the jail.
He doesn’t come back out. After a moment, I bend down to the round hole in the glass positioned nowhere near the height of any adult human. “Hello!” I say loudly. “Anybody here?”
Nothing, so I look up at the camera aimed down at me and hold out my hands as if to say, “Could someone actually do their job here?”
I bend down and yell again.
Finally, the guard returns, looking irritated. “Help you?”
“Yeah, I’m here from Shreveport to take custody of Casey Cox. Detective Leibowitz is waiting for me.”
He slides a clipboard to me in a drawer under the window. “Sign in there.”
I hurriedly scribble out my info.
The loud metal door slides open and I hurry through the sally port where they get new arrestees out of the transport van. At the next locked door, I look up at the camera again, then back to the front desk just beyond the windows. I hear a loud click as the lock disengages.
I go in and sign some more forms, then they direct me to the booking room. The guard there seems to be logging a new booking’s personal items.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I need to see Detective Leibowitz. I’m here to take custody of Casey Cox.”
“They’re in a meeting right now,” she says. “You can sit down and I’ll tell them you’re here.”
I can’t accept that. “The meeting, it’s about her, isn’t it? She’s about to be extradited but I need to get back there. Please, go tell them I’m here.”
She seems to move slower just because I asked her to hurry. It’s a power thing. She takes her time finishing what she’s doing, then shuffles slower than natural around the hall and down to the corner. How long since I landed? Fifteen or twenty minutes? I check my watch.
Keegan couldn’t have gotten here much faster than me, but I did see his car in the parking lot so I know he’s still here. I pace in the holding area, my head splitting.
Finally, she comes back. “They’ll be right with you.”
“They’ll be right with me?” I repeat. “What is this, a bank? I came to transport an inmate, and I need to see them now!”
She doesn’t like my tone. “I told you, they’ll come when they can. They’re busy.”
“I’m busy too. Let me just go back. It’s really important that I—”
“Have a seat!” she yells as if I’m one of her prisoners.
I huff out a sigh and glance toward the bright orange plastic seats against the wall. I step toward them, then change my mind. She can just get over it. I lunge toward the doorway she came through. She jumps out of her seat and comes after me, moving remarkably faster now. “What are you doing?” she yells.
I don’t look back at her or slow my step, but I’m not sure where I should go. “I’m going to get my prisoner.”
“You get back in there!” she shrieks.
I don’t listen to her. I just keep walking, looking for any room that has people in it, hoping they’ll hear our voices and come out into the hall. Finally, I see a plainclothes man at the end of the hallway near an exit door. I hurry toward him. “Detective? I’m Dylan Roberts. I spoke to you over the phone.” I honestly don’t know if I spoke to him or someone else, but it does make him stop.
He looks a little sheepish and slides his hands into his pockets, but he steps toward me.
“He shot past me and came back here without permission!” the guard yells, her voice reverberating down the hall.
“It’s okay,” the detective says, holding out a hand to stem her assault on me. “I’ll take it from here.”
“I need to take custody of my prisoner,” I bite out. “Is she still here?”
“I’m sorry. They just left.”
I fight the urg
e to slam my hand against the wall. “You let Keegan take her? Are you insane?”
“I had to,” he says. “Our captain talked to your chief, and that was the plan.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I say. “This is going to backfire on you. If anything goes wrong with this extradition, you’re going to be blamed.”
“For handing her over to the cop who was sent to get her?”
I want to scream that she’s telling the truth, that Keegan wants her dead, that she’ll never make it to Shreveport. But I don’t have time to tell him how I know that.
I push past him to the exit door he’s standing beside. “Did he go out this door?”
“They’re already gone. They just drove off.”
I pause for a minute, trying to control my raging need to break something.
“She asked for a local lawyer before he took her, but he opted to take her on to Shreveport.”
I’m sick at the thought of Casey in the car with Keegan. “She asked for a lawyer and you didn’t let her have one?”
He bristles. “It was his call. He said he would call the lawyer when they got there.”
I try to shift my thoughts. “She named a lawyer?”
“She said his name is Billy Barbero. I’ve never heard of him.”
I make a mental note of his name. I’ll get in touch with him as soon as I can, and maybe he can do something to stop the extradition. Maybe he can get in touch with Gates, and the chief can call Keegan and change the plan.
“So why won’t you let me out the exit door?”
“That’s only for transporting inmates. You’ll have to go out the way you came in.”
I’m wasting time here, so I head back the way I came, past the guard who’s seething over my audacity. “Thanks for your help,” I quip as I pass her.
I get to the metal doors. They take as long to open as they did on the way in, and finally I’m back in the parking garage at my car. I look to see if Keegan’s SUV is still there. Of course, it’s gone.
If I Live Page 11