Trial by Fire

by Tricia Andersen

  “I’ll call Heidi when I get back to the hotel. Maybe she can find Blake. Then I’ll fly to London.”

  “Heidi? Are you warming up to her?”

  “Absolutely not. But we have a common goal. We both want Sloan free. Face it, we’re both in love with him.”

  “He’s in love with you. Not her. I testify on Monday. We’ll fly out Tuesday.”

  “I’m a big girl. If we wait a day, we lose a day to find Blake. We may be too late. You head back to Belfast. I’ll head to London.”

  “I don’t like that idea.”

  “Me neither. But I have Heidi on speed dial. I’ll be fine.”

  Gordon sighed. “Fine. You’re right. We’ll part in the morning. Let’s find a bite to eat then head back to the hotel to get some sleep.”

  “You keep worrying about me eating and getting enough sleep. It’s hard not to look at you as my dad right now.”

  “It’s hard not to be your dad.” He laughed as he hugged her. “For tonight, let’s drop the formality. We’ll have a nice dinner as stepfather and daughter. All right, little one?”

  “I would love that as long as it’s outside the red light district, Dad.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  They hurried through the crowd until they reached the edge of the red light district. As their pace slowed the conversation quickened. A casual night with her stepfather would be nice. Tomorrow she was on her own.

  »»•««

  The Liverpool pub was strangely busy for a Saturday afternoon. There was loud laughing and clanking of glass mugs. Everyone in the place was having a great time except one man at the end of the bar. His dark hair was neat but his full beard was scruffy and unkempt. His T-shirt covered a muscled frame. His worn jeans had holes in them.

  He didn’t lift his head as someone settled on the stool next to him. “Aren’t you far from home, Fitzgerald?”

  “They’re coming, Blake.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “Morrison’s people. His wife, Abigail. They figured out that we stole the vial of blood. Bloody hell, tell me you destroyed the vial and that tape from the liquor store.”

  “Of course I didn’t and I won’t now. All we need is some cop to go sniffing around a dumpster and find it. They’d let Morrison go and come find us.”

  “So you’re keeping them?”

  “Hell, yes. I’ve killed every person that stepped into my place. Seven bodies. No one will ever find them. And I’m not worried about some socialite. I’ve seen the interviews she’s been on. She’s a pretty face. Nothing more. Drink your beer and calm down. Morrison will be gone with our guilt in just a few days.”

  Fitzgerald glared at him out of the corner of his eye as he took a sip of beer. Blake chuckled. The Irishman was wound too tight. It would all be over soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Abbey flipped her hood over her head as she trudged down the sidewalk. The streets of Liverpool were strangely quiet on a Monday afternoon. She shrugged to herself. That was fine by her. The less people to see her sneak around, the better.

  She patted her back gently. Yep. The gun was there. Heidi insisted that she take it with her. She even taught Abbey to shoot it. The last thing Abbey wanted was to be best buds with her husband’s ex-lover. But Sloan’s freedom was at stake. Once he’s free I doubt I’ll be messaging funny cat photos to her.

  She ducked into an alley to check an address on her phone. Then she glanced at the old brick building across the street. It looked abandoned. She huffed a sigh. Heidi must have given her the wrong address. Fantastic. Bet she’s getting a good chuckle over this.

  The door of the old building across the street opened and closed. A man a little older than Sloan stepped out. His face was nearly covered with a scruffy beard even though his dark blond hair was neatly trimmed. He looked both directions suspiciously before hurrying away.

  Abbey waited several moments after he was gone before she jogged across the street. She jiggled the handle of the door to find it locked. Slowly she paced around the building to look for a way in. She grinned when she found a window cracked open, leading to the basement. She yanked and pulled at the window until it opened enough for her to shimmy through. She studied her surroundings one last time before she slipped inside.

  For appearing empty, there was someone definitely living in the basement. There was a futon set in front of a television. Food wrappers were scattered all over the floor. There was an old metal desk in the corner surrounded by file cabinets. She cocked a grin. That’s where she would start looking.

  She shuffled through each drawer of the first two cabinets and came up with nothing. Ulrich wasn’t kidding. She did find trinkets that could implicate Blake Cox in about a dozen crimes. None of them were the bombing, however. She froze at every unusual sound. It dragged out her search dangerously.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she made her way through the third cabinet. A glass vial laid at the bottom. Picking it up, Abbey read the name on it. Thomas Morrison. There was a faint dry residue of blood on the bottom. Beside where it once lay was a tangle of wires and a broken remote control car. Pressed against the side of one cabinet was a VHS tape with no label.

  Abbey whipped out her cell and took photos of the items. Her fingers flew as she sent them to Heidi and Logan. Once she tucked her phone back into her pocket, she ran to the open window.

  “Who the bloody hell are you?”

  Abbey froze in her tracks. She slowly turned to find the man she saw earlier staring at her from the bottom of the staircase. His eyes darted from her to the open file drawer. He snarled. “You bitch!”

  She backpedaled as he charged at her. She ducked his punch and then ran, searching frantically for her gun in her waistband. She tumbled to the ground as he tackled her and then winced as he wrenched her arm. He sprawled out on top of her.

  “Who are you?”

  Abbey gritted her teeth. He twisted her arm. “Answer me.”

  “My name is Abbey Morrison. I’m here to clear my husband’s name, you son of a bitch!”

  She felt him move on top of her. She heard the sound of fabric tearing. Something trailed across the skin of her arm, piercing it. She bit back a whimper as her shirt grew damp with her own blood.

  The blade that cut her arm slid beneath her chin. “Now, I’ll show you what I do with trespassers.”

  “You stole my husband’s trigger and used it. Not smart enough to make one of your own?”

  Blake chuckled. “Your husband was a patsy, nothing more. There was nothing special about his trigger. Fitzgerald just wanted to lay the blame on him, use him as a scapegoat. Fitzgerald saw quite a bit of potential in the kid. But then there were offers to move him to New Zealand so he could play rugby. I don’t know what crawled up Fitzgerald’s ass but that was when he decided to pin the bombing on Tom.” He took the knife from her throat and laid it against her forehead. “It’s too bad they’ll find you in pieces.”

  Abbey felt his weight shift again. She bucked hard, knocking him loose. She lurched forward and grabbed the first thing she could find. Whipping around, she swung the baseball bat in her hands. It struck him across the cheek hard enough to knock him out cold. He crumpled to the floor.

  The sound of sirens echoed outside. Abbey scrambled as she looked for her gun. Finding it on the floor next to the file cabinet, she tucked it back into the waistband of her jeans and jogged up the stairs. She found refuge in the alley just before the police swarmed the building.

  She clutched her bleeding arm as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. She was distracted by the sounds of heels on the cement. Abbey yanked the gun out of the back of her jeans and handed it to her. “Here. Take this.”

  Heidi smirked as she took it. “Good job.” Her beige overcoat concealed the matching crimson red suit coat she was wearing. “It seems you were more thorough than the detectives that worked this case.”

  “Thanks. Will the evidence be enough?”

  �
�I’m anxious to see that tape. But yes. I think those items will do it.”

  “If Blake Cox is charged before the jury decides.”

  “The ruling can be overturned.”

  “Do you want to wager Sloan’s life like that?”

  Heidi stared at her. “No. I’ve been asked to assist on this case so I’m going to go take a look at the goodies you found. Head down that alley. It’ll spit you out over on the next street. And before you go back to Northern Ireland you should get your arm checked.”

  “Not a chance. I’m a ghost, remember?”

  Heidi shook her head as she laughed. Abbey frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re stubborn. Just like he is. Sloan found his match in you, didn’t he? No wonder he’s obsessed with you.”

  It was Abbey’s turn to chuckle. “He’s not obsessed.”

  “Are you sure? The man I knew never chased something until he possessed it fully. What he wanted came to him. He wouldn’t rest until you belonged to him.”

  The two women turned as Blake Cox was dragged from the building kicking and cursing. Heidi nodded into the alley. “I’ll talk with you at a later time. You better head out. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “Thanks.”

  Abbey watched Heidi cross the street and follow the officers into the building. Then she turned and retreated down the alley. She would wait until Gordon messaged to tell him about her close call. None of them would be pleased. But at least she finally found what they were all searching for. It wouldn’t be long before she would have her husband back.

  »»•««

  Sloan listened as the judge gave the jury their instructions. It wouldn’t take long before they were back with a decision. The florist had been followed up by a nurse from his pediatrician. All she could say was that a vial of his blood went missing. It didn’t do much.

  The entire courtroom turned as the door was flung open. Bartholomew stood in the doorway, frozen in place. The judge glared at him as he continued with his directions to the jury.

  Bartholomew wove his way to a seat behind the defense table. Leaning over the rail, his whispered harshly to Shemus. “Stop this. Now.”

  “Stop what? The jury is about to deliberate. I just gave my closing argument.”

  “There’s new evidence. It’s about to break over the news. You need to ask for more time.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” the judge demanded. “Keep it up and I’ll charge you with contempt.”

  Shemus stared at Bartholomew puzzled then stood. “Your honor, I request a continuance. A day or two at most.”

  “You’ve already given your closing argument.”

  “Mr. Evans has brought new evidence to light. I need twenty-four hours to contact Scotland Yard.”

  The judge sat in silence. “Fine. I’ll give you forty-eight. We reconvene at one o’clock the day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The entire courtroom stood as the judge scurried out. Sloan looked over at the prosecution. The color had drained from Fitzgerald’s face. Before he could ask anything from Bartholomew, the guards secured the cuffs on his wrists and led him away.

  »»•««

  With a bloody sleeve, there was no way Abbey could hail a cab. At least not without questions. After ten blocks she risked an inquiry or two. She hailed a cab as she tried to hide her arm. It was no use. The cab driver that stopped looked at her as if she committed murder.

  As the streets of London flew by, her phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Good work, Abigail,” Gordon greeted.

  “Was that enough?”

  “I talked to Heidi. I heard about the tape. She’ll be calling me after she sees it.”

  “Great. When do I fly back?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What do you mean? I’m stuck in London?

  “Of course not. You’re going home to New York City. There you’ll meet your mother, Maggie, Vicki, and the children. You’ll fly back to Belfast as a family before the acquittal.”

  “I need to see Bartholomew. Soon.”

  “Why?”

  “Hang up and I’ll show you.”

  Abbey ended the call and then used the photo app on her phone to take a picture of her arm. After a few sweeps of her finger she sent it by text to Gordon. Moments later her phone rang again.

  “What the bloody hell happened?” he demanded.

  “Blake and I got in a little tussle.”

  “You need stitches.”

  “Probably. I need a doctor who won’t ask questions.”

  She heard Gordon’s heavy sigh on the phone. “I’ll text you an address. Go there. You’ll be taken care of. Then get to the airport, get your ticket, and go home to your children. We’ll see you in a couple days.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Again, good job. I’m proud of you, little one.”

  Abbey felt her cheeks flush warm. “Thanks, Dad.” She ended the call and then waited. After a minute an address popped on the screen. She showed the cab driver. With a nod, he redirected their course.

  Abbey was stunned with how quickly the doctor stitched up her arm. She was ushered through the waiting room to an exam room. She had barely settled on the exam table before her arm was numbed and the procedure began. The cab driver was instructed to wait. The engine hardly cooled before they were off to the airport.

  A driver holding a placard with her name greeted her as she reached the baggage area of LaGuardia Airport. With a nod and a grin, he led her to a waiting black Expedition with dark, tinted windows. She slipped inside without a word. Even though the need for cloak and dagger still seemed to remain, Abbey felt an overwhelming sense of relief. This city meant she was home.

  Her heart skipped a beat as the black awning of the penthouse came into view. Not only was she in the city she loved, she would spend the night in her real home, the one place in the world where she felt true peace. Her heart crumpled a bit. It wouldn’t be the same to stay the night there without Sloan. She would have to bring him as soon as he was free.

  Abbey silently rode the elevator, emitting a sad sigh as the floors passed. Abbey watched the elevator floor numbers blink on and off as she slumped against the wall. She fought not to think of what she had done. All she wanted was a good night sleep. She straightened herself as the doors opened to the penthouse floor and then stepped out into the vestibule.

  She pushed the glass French doors open with a long, slow exhale.

  She heard an excited squeal. “Mommy!”

  Abbey’s head snapped up to find Ame on the lower step, her little arms open wide. She dropped her duffle in the foyer and rushed to her daughter, scooping her up and holding her tight. Mary rose with Ethan cradled in her arms. “They couldn’t wait to see you.”

  Abbey set Ame back on her feet and then took the baby from her mother. “I missed them so much.”

  Ame tugged on Abbey’s arm. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?”

  Abbey smiled at her daughter. “We’re going to go see Daddy. We leave tomorrow on a big plane.”

  “Yay!” Ame bounded into the kitchen excitedly.

  Mary laughed as she watched the little girl disappear around the corner. She wrapped Abbey in a tight hug. “I just fed them both. There are leftovers in the refrigerator.”

  Abbey smiled. “Thank you so much for taking care of them for so long.”

  “I was happy to do it. They were so good.” Vicki paused. “How’s your dad?”

  “He can’t wait to get home to you. He’s worried about you and misses you.”

  “I miss him, too. Well, I’m going to go to my place and get some sleep.”

  “Good night. And thank you so much.” Abbey wrapped her free arm around Mary and gave her a quick squeeze.

  “My pleasure. They were angels like always.” She slipped out the penthouse doors.

  Abbey popped a movie into the DVD player and settled onto the couch with her children. Even though her heart swelled as
she cuddled them close to her, it also broke a bit. Looking into their ice-blue eyes reminded her of their father. She told herself it was only a day or two more before they would all be reunited. She glanced up to the loft where her bed was. How could she sleep there without him?

  She smiled as Ame yawned. Nudging the child to her feet, Abbey clicked off the television. She held Ethan close as she took Ame’s hand and led her up the steps. Abbey tucked Ethan into his port-a-crib and then settled Ame into the large bed. She changed into a pair of pajamas from the drawer and climbed in next to her daughter, kissing the little girl on the forehead.

  Having her children close wasn’t a substitute for Sloan, but it would help her sleep through the night. Abbey yawned once, snuggled into her pillow, and drifted off.

  »»•««

  Sloan straightened his tie the best he could without the benefit of a mirror. That was one luxury he didn’t get in solitary confinement. Without even having to look at his image, he knew he looked scruffy. It could work to his advantage, though. He would have to see what Abigail thought of the new beard before he shaved it off.

  The guard seemed less than pleased when he brought the suit Sloan had been arrested in, clean and pressed. Sloan was certain he knew why. He couldn’t shake the look on Fitzgerald’s face when Bartholomew disrupted the court. The whole situation brought him to one conclusion. Abigail had found whatever it was. He was about to be free.

  Sloan’s smile faded. His thoughts wandered to Abigail. He had been proud when she was pretending to be a detective hunting for clues. Then she started dealing with evil men like Ulrich, men with blood on their hands. And she survived. She lied, cheated, and stole her way to his acquittal.

  Abigail, his perfect angel, now had tainted wings. He had tarnished her beautiful soul. She was turning into a mercenary…just like him.

  He couldn’t stop the memory from invading his mind.

  Pacing the cold tile of the courthouse, trying to hold his patience in check. The melodic click of her heels on the floor. The flush on her cheeks as she breathlessly beamed up at him. She was exquisite in her white satin dress with the halter strap hugged around her neck. Her hair was bound up on the top of her head and cascaded around her face in curls.