“Will you be okay here while I go get us a cab?” Desmond asked, placing the two decoy bags that held random articles of clothing at her feet.
Her eyes lazily flicked up to his. “I’ll be fine,” she answered, but the response seemed to echo throughout the entire structure.
He gently squeezed her hand, kissed her temple, and left. She walked over to a coffee shop that was unusually sparse for an early afternoon, and found a seat.
“Shame, isn’t it?” A woman’s voice next to her broke through her thoughts. She looked up into the wrinkled corners of smiling, grey eyes.
“I’m sorry?”
The woman jerked her chin towards a flat-screened TV hung on the wall. “That attorney girl. The one that they said was missing. First they said she died in an accident, and now they’re saying that she’s been killed.”
Larke swung around to face the TV. Robert Dillinger was standing behind a podium addressing a crowd of reporters. The noise around the terminal drowned out the sound, so her eyes went to the closed captioning trailing across the bottom of the screen.
“Larke was a dear friend of mine,” Dillinger was saying. “She was one of the best attorneys I’d ever come across. The legal knowledge that she possessed was exceptional, which is why it devastated me to find out about her passing. But now this, this is even worse. To think that anyone would intentionally end such an amazing person’s life, it sickens me.”
“They’re saying that she was killed, now?” Larke asked the woman.
“It’s why I don’t watch the news sometimes,” the woman went on. “They never wait until they get the whole story so, in the end, all we get is a bunch of mangled mess.”
Larke searched the terminal for Desmond and found him heading back in her direction. Without waiting for him to reach the coffee shop, she popped up and covered the distance between them in a few hurried steps.
“Des, we have to go,” she warned.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“On TV, they’re saying that my death is being ruled as a homicide.”
Desmond looked up towards the coffee shop TV just in time to see his picture pop up on the screen with the words, Armed and Dangerous, underneath it. In a few seconds his image was gone, but the one they replaced it with, was even worse.
“I got the cab. Let’s go,” he directed, spinning her around. Before they exited the terminal doors, he took one last look at a TV screen in the middle of a waiting area. There, still on the screen, was a picture of him and Larke…on their wedding day.
Outside the terminal, the air was warm and humid despite the fact that the rest of the country was transitioning to winter.
They piled into the yellow four-door sedan and as they rode, Larke attempted to relax by focusing on city’s brilliant, multicultural scenery. Their driver, on the other hand, seemed uncomfortable with silence.
“Are you two coming back from your honeymoon?” He asked excitedly.
“Yes,” Desmond quickly replied after noticing that Larke was not in the shape to answer any questions.
“Nice. Where did you go?”
“Jamaica,” Desmond answered again. Every question seared Larke like an interrogation.
“Oh, that’s nice,” the driver continued. “I went there with my wife once. Lovely place. Lovely waterfalls.”
He paused although they both knew that he was just gearing up to ask another question.
“So, do you live in Miami?”
Desmond reached over and laced his fingers with Larke’s. “No,” he answered. “Not yet. We might. I decided to stop over here for a night so the wife could get a look at the place and see if she would like it. To see if I should move my business here.”
The driver chuckled. “Of course. What kind of business are you in?”
“Landscaping.”
“You will get a lot of business here,” the man assured. “It’s a nice place. It has its ups and downs just like any other city, but you will like it here.”
He then drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along to the rhythm of an upbeat Spanish melody pouring through the stereo. As he slowed to accommodate bumper to bumper traffic, Desmond realized that they were nearing the location of the apartment where Doug had set up the meet with Lawrence. Just as he expected, an unmarked car was already in place along one of the side streets.
Fidgeting around in his pocket, he fished out a blank piece of paper. “Oh man,” he said aloud to catch the driver’s attention. “I’m sorry. I told you the wrong location. The hotel we’re staying in is off of 2nd. Do I have you going in the wrong direction?”
The man shook his head. “No, no. I’m glad that you said something before we ended up in Lauderdale or something. We’re actually pretty close to 2nd.”
Desmond pretended to look around to see if he could see the hotel, searching for any hotel that might be in the vicinity. Luckily, he spotted a towering building decorated with windows a couple of blocks away from where they were stalled.
“I see it,” he told the driver. “It’s that one right over there.”
The driver squinted in the direction of the hotel. “Nice place. I’ll see if someone will let me over so we can cut down that street right there.”
Desmond was already getting out of the cab. “No need. Babe, you’re okay walking from here right? It’s not that far away.”
Larke hopped out of the cab. “Yeah, we can walk from here. With all that lobster we ate this past weekend, I need to burn the calories anyhow.”
They pulled the luggage out of the trunk and paid the fare before weaving through traffic in the direction of the hotel. As they drew nearer, Desmond recognized another unmarked car at the end of that street. Lawrence had really pulled out all the stops.
“That’s the police, isn’t it?” Larke asked, spotting the car. “Just the way that it’s sitting right there, it looks too conspicuous.”
Desmond nodded. “Yeah, that’s them. There’s another one down the street a few blocks from here.”
Larke motioned towards the double entrance doors of the hotel. “Do you think anyone might have stopped by the hotel to ask for you? Maybe they have agents scouring the place?”
Desmond quickly surveyed their surroundings. “They most likely gave the people at the front desk my photo. So, I’ll be sending you in alone.”
He noticed the brief moment of panic that flashed across her face, so he slipped the sunglasses down over her eyes.
“Do you really think they’ll recognize me without these on my face?” She contested.
“It’s not for them. It’s for you. Just in case you panic, it gives you something to hide behind. I’m going to come in through the back way.”
She frowned. “But what if someone sees you? Won’t that be a dead giveaway that we’re doing something wrong?”
He handed her the bag and started towards the rear entrance of the building.
“No one will see me.”
As he walked away, Larke found that she was completely confused as to how he could be so confident in the things that he did even when she was almost positive that they were bad ideas. Yes, his background and training permitted a bit of confidence, but apart from skill, she knew that the odds were merely in his favor. And, if he was merely beating the odds, then it wouldn’t be long before his luck ran out.
She trudged towards the hotel, pulled one bag behind her while balancing the other on her forearm, and ignored the quizzical looks from the people around her. As she made her way through the entrance doors, she collided with a man in a dark blue suit, knocking the bag off her arm.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he apologized, scooping the bag from the floor.
“It’s no problem,” she reassured. “It was an accident.”
He handed her the bag and she continued towards the front desk, but his ominous presence remained behind her.
“Excuse me?” He called, touching her gently on the elbow. She took a deep breath and turned to face him.
“Yes?”
He stuck out a hand. “My name is Agent Lawrence Campbell. FBI.”
Larke looked at his outstretched hand. “Umm…hi?”
When he realized that she wasn’t going to return the gesture, he pulled his hand back. Larke said a silent prayer since the layer of sweat in her palms would have surely been a dead giveaway of her deception.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I know it must be unusual for me to stop you like this. It’s just that, I noticed that you were alone.”
She glanced at the wedding band on his left hand. “Yes, I’m alone Agent Campbell, but as handsome as you are, I don’t date married men.”
He blushed and spun the ring around his finger a couple turns. “Oh no, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. What I meant was, we’re currently surveying the area. We’re looking for this man,” he pulled a folded paper from his suit jacket, “as he may be tied to a young woman’s death. You look to be around the same age, so I wanted to let you know to be careful.”
Larke took the flyer. “You said he killed a young woman and might be staying here?”
Lawrence nodded. “We believe that he will be in this area at some point and time so, do me a favor? If you see anyone looking suspicious, even if you’re not sure,” he handed over a card, “call me?”
She shakily slipped the card from his fingers. “I will. Thank you for letting me know.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t walk away.
“Are you new to the area Miss…?”
“Clayton,” Larke finished, thankful that she’d remembered the name on her passport. “But please, call me Stacy.”
Lawrence smiled. “Well, what brings you to Miami, Stacy?”
“Just to get away,” she responded with a shrug. “A girlfriend of mine told me that it’s a nice city to relax in, so I’m here.”
He motioned around. “And what do you think so far?”
“It’s okay. It’s warm. I like that.”
He chuckled. “Well, yes, it’s warm. It’s always warm. You’re in a good area if you’re looking for things to do. At night, the area is generally full of people. Try not to look like a tourist or get singled out and you should be fine.”
Larke realized that he was again hinting at the importance of her safety.
“I will,” she replied, turning her body towards the check-in desk to signal that she was ready to go.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’ll let you go.” He pointed to the flyer. “Remember what I said.”
Then, he left.
Larke took another deep breath and walked towards the desk. She smiled as genuinely as she could at the woman checking her in—thankful that she hadn’t asked her to remove her sunglasses—before lugging the bags to the elevator. When the doors closed, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the hand she felt on her shoulder.
“It’s me,” Desmond’s voice soothed behind her. Although her nerves immediately began to calm, she was still upset by her lack of attention to her surroundings. He was standing right there in the elevator and she hadn’t even noticed him. He could have been anyone.
“I met Agent Campbell,” she told him. “He gave me a flyer with your face on it. Told me to watch out for you because you’re a murderer.”
Desmond took the flyer. “Did he say anything else?”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the empty hallway. “He just said that the police are expecting for you to pop up in this area.”
She located the room number, stuck the key into the slot, pushed the door open, and was welcomed into a cozy, loft-style room which housed a single queen bed adorned by a trendy headboard. There was also a seating area with a miniature sofa in front of cube-like coffee tables.
“Not bad,” Desmond announced, affixing the do-not-disturb sign to the outside of the door. “Too bad we won’t be spending much time here.”
Larke dropped the bags and sat along the edge of the bed. “How much time do we have?”
“A couple of hours. We have time to rest before we meet up with him.”
She dropped to her knees and opened one of the bags. “Good, because I need to take a shower.”
“You just took one before we left.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t see how I was sweating when I was talking to Agent Campbell.”
He laughed and flopped down in the sofa. “Was it bad?”
“Was it bad?” She pulled her shirt over her head to expose her cami. “It actually ran down my back.”
Desmond’s brows narrowed. “Good lord, girl, how are you still alive?”
“I have no idea. I got this from my Dad. I sweat like a pig under pressure. Then, when it dries, I feel like I’ve been rolling in sand.”
He grinned. “Well, we might need some of that if this room service isn’t up to par.”
Larke shot him a playful look. “Shut up, Des. It’s not that bad.”
“Bet you guys didn’t need a salt lick for the horses on your farm.”
She tossed a pen in his direction, which he caught and set on the table. Laughing, she walked over and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. Although they’d made love that morning at the villa, it felt like a lifetime had passed since she’d last tasted him.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she declared, making her way into the bathroom. When he heard the door click, he moved to the window and peered out with an unsettling feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
*****
Hector Perez had a creed by which he ran his business: customer service, customer service, customer service. His aim was to always provide exemplary customer service, which was why so many of his customers were repeats. So, when he realized that the lady from the newlywed couple he’d driven earlier had forgotten a small bag in the backseat, there was no questioning whether he was going to return it. The two had probably been so wrapped up in the afterglow from their nuptials that they hadn’t even realized that they’d left it.
He pulled into a parking spot at the hotel’s lot and jogged to the front door. Before he had a chance to go inside, he noticed that a man was flagging him down to get his attention. As the man drew nearer, a smile spread across his face.
“Agent Campbell,” he greeted, giving the man a brief handshake. “How is it going?”
Lawrence returned the smile. “It’s going well. How have you been? I heard that you just came up on your twelfth year sober.”
Hector blushed. “Yes sir. Carmen, she changed my life for the better.”
“And the kids?”
Hector blushed again. “They’re great, man. Making honor rolls and soccer teams. I can’t keep up. I couldn’t have done it without you, Agent Campbell. From that one talk we had when you found me outside that bar, back before you were a big-time federal agent anyhow, to that very first AA meeting. I owe so much to you.”
Lawrence never got tired of hearing about how the people he met had turned their lives around because of something that he’d done. “You’re still running fares to the airport, right?” He asked.
“Yes sir. I actually just dropped a young lady off here.” He held up the purse. “I just doubled back to give her this.”
Lawrence reached for a flyer. “If you get a chance to talk to her, give this to her.”
Hector gave the flyer a quick scan. “What’s this? A sicko in the area?”
“He’s wanted for murder,” Lawrence explained. “He’s the prime suspect in an offshore case. A US attorney. We got word that he’s coming through today and will be in the area, so I’m just warning all the young women I come across to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
Hector shook his head solemnly, his focus still on the paper. “I read about that. That poor girl.”
Lawrence nodded. “Yeah, it’s terrible. I actually just gave one to a woman dragging her suitcase into the hotel from across the street. I could immediately tell that she wasn’t from around here and would be a perfect targe
t for him.”
Hector’s ears perked up. “What did she look like?”
“About average height, long brownish-red hair, a beauty mark on her chin—”
“That’s the same girl,” Hector interrupted. “The one that forgot her purse. But she should be okay because she’s got her husband with her.”
Confused, Lawrence’s eyebrows came together. “Husband?”
*****
Sitting across from a man who looked to be in his late twenties with a shadow on his face that had grown in way past five o’clock, Wren began to question her judgment. She was way in over her head. She wasn’t a detective. Hell, she’d just gotten into law school and was still in the middle of her fundamental classes. Even worse, Jay hadn’t been able to make the first meeting with Grandma Ruth’s law enforcement connection due to basketball practice, and Grandma Ruth couldn’t get out of a lunch date with their mother without revealing what they were up to. So, it was just Wren in a sleek black pantsuit sitting across from a man who she only knew by a first name: Phillip.
He finished the call that he was on and placed the phone back on the receiver. Then, he rolled up his sleeves, clasped his hands on the desk in front of him, and stared directly into her eyes. Wren nervously glanced away and noticed the US Navy tattoo on his forearm, which helped her anxiety to wane some.
“Let me properly introduce myself,” he began, sticking out a hand which Wren shook as firmly as she could. “I’m Sergeant Phillip Thompson. I understand that we share a mutual friend.”
She smiled. “I guess so. I’m Ruth Ann Baker’s granddaughter. I understand that she and your grandfather used to, um, date?”
He laughed, leaned back in his chair, and clasped his hands behind his head. As he relaxed, so did Wren.
“I can only hope my life is at least half as interesting as his when I get to that age,” he told her. “But yes, he did mention that your family was interested in getting more information on a case involving your—”
“Sister,” Wren finished. “My older sister.” She fished a photo out of her purse. “This is her. Her name is…was…is Larke Tapley.”
In Love and Rescue: When love is the perfect rescue... Page 15