by Debra Webb
Rocky hoped that Kendra would give him a fresh start when this investigation was over. He’d crossed the line last night…scared her off.
He’d thought she had mapped that same route. Truth was, she’d just survived a harrowing experience. Maybe he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability.
And screwed up his only shot at the real thing. His mother would be all over that.
1:38 p.m.
THEY HAD GOTTEN DELILAH off to Chicago. The two-hour wait for the flight had unsettled her, but Kendra had managed to keep her calm. Delilah had spent most of that time talking about what a great friend Aleesha had been to her.
By the time Delilah had boarded the plane, Kendra felt as if she’d known Aleesha herself.
Ian Michaels, a second-in-command at the Colby Agency, would be meeting Delilah at the airport. He would take her to the safe house and leave her in the care of another staff member.
Kendra’s cell phone battery had died. She pulled the car charger from her purse and plugged it into the auxiliary port in the rental. As the phone resurrected the alert that she had two missed calls appeared. Both from Wayne.
This time she wanted some real answers. Depending upon how the conversation progressed, she might or might not tell him about her witness. At this point she would prefer to be armed with some physical evidence, as well. The smart thing to do would be to get her emotions in check before confronting him.
Rocky pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and glanced at the screen. He sent Kendra a look. “Patsy.”
Kendra listened as Rocky conversed with their colleague. Again Kendra noticed that his tone sounded almost playful as he spoke to Patsy.
Why was she obsessing on his interactions with women? He was her coworker. She loved her work, loved the agency. Getting involved with a colleague could prove a potential mistake.
It wasn’t like he was the only man in the world who could kiss her that way…though she had admittedly never experienced quite that level of arousal. All these years she’d thought something was wrong with her. Shortchanged in the sex department. Inept when it came to intimacy.
Now she knew that wasn’t true. This man—she dared to peek at him from the corner of her eye—had proven she was perfectly capable of raging hot desire.
“Patsy came through,” he said as he closed his phone against his thigh and slid it back into his pocket. “She not only got the details on Mrs. Castille’s white sedan, she found the repair shop that made some front-end repairs on the fifth of June.”
Kendra’s pulse skipped. “Was she able to get a copy of the invoice of repairs?”
Rocky shot her a grin. “She not only got it, she also forwarded a copy to my phone.” He passed Kendra his phone. “Check it out.”
She accepted the phone, catching her breath when her fingers grazed his palm. Since he didn’t glance at her she hoped that meant he hadn’t heard the little gasp.
Shaking off the silly thoughts, she opened the document Patsy had forwarded. “Front-end damage,” she read. “Bumper and hood mostly. New paint on both. She paid in cash. No insurance claim was filed.”
Would this be enough evidence to prompt the truth from Senator Castille or his wife? Wouldn’t be admissible in a court of law, but it might work as a point of coercion.
Something else tugging at her investigator’s instincts was how had Grant Roper gotten those photos of Senator Castille with Aleesha Ferguson?
Was Grant Roper the man who’d run Aleesha down?
Kendra blinked. Roper could be the one leaking information from the senator’s office. Was he also the one responsible for the threat to and ultimate murder of Yoni? Anger began to crackle deep inside Kendra. If she learned that weasel had done this…she would ensure he paid.
Her cell vibrated. She checked the caller ID, then turned to Rocky. “It’s Wayne.”
She had a voice mail from him but she hadn’t listened to it yet. Oh, well. “Kendra Todd.”
“Hey, where’ve you been? I’ve called three times.”
Two actually. “My phone died. I just got to my charger.” That was true. The rest he didn’t need to know…yet.
“I was surprised to hear that you’re still in D.C.”
Did he really think she would run back to Chicago just because he suggested it? Please. “I’ll be here until my investigation is complete.” He might as well get used to the idea.
He made a skeptical sound. “We don’t have anything new on the shooting,” he said, disappointment in his voice. “But I guarantee I’ll find those responsible.”
She wasn’t holding her breath. “Thank you.” Just go for it. “I was hoping we could talk soon…today if possible. There are some things I want to hash out.”
“I’ve been thinking we need to do that. Let me check my schedule.” Rustling of papers. “How about two-thirty? Is that too soon for you?”
“That’ll work.” She held up two fingers, then three, and finally a zero using her thumb and forefinger for Rocky’s benefit. He nodded his agreement to the time. “Your office?”
“How about I call you since I may be out of the office? You never know around here.”
“I understand. So, I’ll see you then.”
“Is your friend coming?”
Was that jealousy she heard in his voice? No way. “I’m not sure about whether he’s coming or not.” Rocky sent her a look. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“Oh, one other thing.”
Anticipation zinged inside of her. Was she finally going to learn something real from this guy? “What’s that?”
“The paper will be retracting the story about Yoni Sayar.”
Kendra waited for more. She restrained the relief that burgeoned in her throat until she’d heard the whole story.
“Apparently the reporter’s source had faked the confirmation. A full retraction and apology to the family will run in tomorrow’s paper.”
The relief she’d been holding back rushed through her. “Thank you for telling me.”
Wayne said something else but Kendra didn’t catch it, the connection faltered. She reminded him she would be waiting for his call and closed her phone. Still in a bit of shock, she passed the news on to Rocky.
“That’s good,” he said, apparently noticing her uncertainty. “Isn’t it?”
“It is…but what was the point?” Kendra knew many of the D.C. reporters. She also knew the rigid rules at the city papers. No way a story would have been allowed to run without credible confirmation unless someone very powerful had a major motive. One worth the risk of a lawsuit.
“Doubt,” Rocky offered.
She turned to him. He was right. A shadow had been cast on Yoni’s reputation. And no amount of retractions could undo all the damage.
But…since he was dead why bother damaging his reputation?
Back to the same question: What was the point?
Chapter Thirteen
2:20 p.m.
Rocky checked the time on his cell again. Still no call from Burton.
So they would wait.
Operating under the assumption the meeting would be held at Burton’s office Kendra had directed Rocky to a parking garage close by.
He studied her profile as she spoke with Sayar’s mother. A memorial service was planned for Sunday afternoon. Kendra had promised to attend.
If the investigation remained ongoing, Rocky supposed he would be attending alongside her. Beyond this case and their continued employment at the agency he wasn’t sure he would be seeing her again.
Since this morning she’d taken care to avoid direct eye contact unless unavoidable. He wanted to bring up the subject again and clear the air, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself.
She dropped her cell phone into her lap and closed her eyes a moment. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he visually played dot to dot with that tiny sprinkling of freckles on her nose.
Her passion for her work and her compassion for others pulled
at something deep in his chest. His mother would say he’d finally taken notice of a woman who didn’t fit his usual profile. And now he was captivated by all the little things he’d never before paid attention to.
Just his luck.
She opened her eyes and he asked, “The Sayars holding up okay?”
“They’re hanging in there.”
“How ’bout you?”
She turned her face to him but quickly shifted her attention away, as if she’d abruptly realized that looking at him wasn’t something she really wanted to do. “I’m disgusted with all the misleading information. Castille is either flat-out lying or innocent. Grant Roper isn’t returning my calls.”
Kendra had attempted to reach Roper twice today. Jean, Castille’s secretary, hadn’t seen him. He’d missed two appointments that morning and hadn’t called in. Castille was in meetings and couldn’t take any calls. There was no answer at the residence of Sharon Castille’s sister in Alexandria.
And Burton hadn’t called yet.
Meanwhile they sat in the car in a parking garage that was moderately cooler than the ninety-four degrees outside.
Waiting.
For the other shoe to drop.
When Kendra’s cell phone rattled, she blew out a breath and checked the screen. “It’s Roper.”
“Put it on speaker,” Rocky suggested. He had a bad feeling about this dirtbag.
Kendra tapped the necessary button. “Kendra Todd.”
“I have new evidence.”
This time Kendra met Rocky’s gaze. “Really? I thought maybe you’d skipped town since you hadn’t returned my calls.”
“That’s exactly what I’m planning to do.” He sounded panicked. “I have to get out of here. Castille knows I have the photos. Other than sharing this evidence with you, there’s nothing else I can do.”
“You could go to the police,” Kendra said flatly. “That’s what people generally do when they have evidence of some crime.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know how this works,” he growled. “There are times when you can’t go to the police. This is one of those times.”
“Why are you calling me, Roper?” Kendra’s patience had frayed.
“I told you,” he barked right back, “I have evidence. Do you want it or not? If not, I’m out of here. You can figure this mess out on your own. I can’t take it anymore.”
“What kind of evidence?” Kendra asked calmly this time.
“Proof that Castille is working with Lieutenant Burton to blame everything on Yoni. And you.”
“Me?” Kendra laughed, the sound dry and filled with disdain. “What could Castille possibly hope to pin on me? I haven’t worked for him in three years.”
“A paper trail,” Roper explained, “that’s all I’ve been privy to. They’ve trumped up evidence that Yoni wanted to bring down Castille. And they can tie that evidence to you. You wanted vengeance.”
“Since I know no such paper trail exists,” Kendra countered, “I’m not the least bit concerned about what the senator is orchestrating in regards to me.”
“Burton is working with Castille, Kendra. He’s manipulating e-mails you apparently sent to him since you left D.C. to make it appear as if they were sent to Yoni. Think about that. Did you ever say anything negative about the senator? Or about how angry you were?”
Kendra’s face gave away her astonishment. “Where are you?”
Roper gave her the name of some park Rocky had never heard of. Kendra agreed to meet him there within half an hour.
She ended the call and recited the driving directions without looking at Rocky.
He didn’t ask.
She didn’t clarify Roper’s statement regarding the e-mails she had sent to Burton.
Since leaving D.C.
Not that it was any of Rocky’s business. It wasn’t. But he’d gotten the impression that she’d walked away from her relationship with Burton without looking back.
Evidently he’d been wrong.
The twenty minutes of maneuvering in traffic and executing the necessary turns were spent in near silence. She spoke only when necessary to give him a direction. He didn’t speak at all.
He was resentful of a past relationship. Ridiculous.
Mostly he was mad at himself for not handling last night better than he had.
The final few miles of road were curvy as hell. Seemed seriously out of the way for a meeting. Roper was either scared to death or planning something Rocky wasn’t going to like.
The black sedan Roper had driven the night before last sat on the side of the deserted stretch of road that led deeper into the wooded park. The area was secluded and deserted. After the drive to get here, Rocky could see why the park wasn’t crowded with nature lovers.
He pulled up behind the sedan. Roper appeared to be in the driver’s seat.
“Stay here.” Rocky removed his weapon from the console. “Let me check it out first.”
Kendra arrowed him a you-must-be-kidding look. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.” She pulled her weapon from her purse and opened her door.
“Whatever you think. You’re in charge.”
Her look this time warned she didn’t find his remark humorous.
This was actually the first time he’d thought about the idea that she was in charge. They’d worked together so well…no power struggle.
Too bad he’d made the mistake of trying to connect outside the realm of work.
Rocky moved ahead of Kendra and approached the driver’s side of the car. She headed for the passenger side. If she took that as a power play that was just too bad. He’d already failed once to protect her—wasn’t happening again.
The instant he was adjacent to the driver’s door, he held up a hand for Kendra not to move any closer.
Grant Roper was dead.
Rocky opened the car door and reached in to check the guy’s carotid pulse, being careful of the blood. Skin was still warm but no pulse.
“Oh, my God!” Kendra yanked the passenger door open and ducked inside.
“Watch the blood,” Rocky warned as he leaned forward enough to survey the interior of the vehicle. A nine millimeter lay in Roper’s lap.
Whoever had killed Roper apparently wanted it to look like a suicide. But this was no suicide. “Roper was left-handed, right?”
The bullet had exited on the right side of his head and plowed into the passenger seat. Blood and tissue had left a nasty pattern over the interior of the car.
Kendra groaned. “It’s not coagulated.”
Rocky looked at the hand she held up. Blood covered her fingertips. Her hand shook. Rocky’s gaze bumped into hers.
She moved her head side to side, her brown eyes wide with a whirlwind of emotions. “He hasn’t been dead long.” She nodded jerkily. “Yes, Grant was left-handed.”
“Get back in the rental car,” Rocky ordered. Whoever had set this up had carefully covered all the bases.
He drew back, straightened to survey the tree line on the opposite side of the narrow road.
Roper had spoken to Kendra less than one hour ago. Claimed to have additional evidence. He didn’t drive out here to kill himself. No way. This was a murder scene. Judging by how recently the bullet had plowed through the victim’s brain, his killer could still be close by.
Who else had he invited to this little get-together? Or had someone watching his movements followed him here?
Rocky’s pulse rate sped up.
None of the above, he realized.
This was a setup.
He moved toward the rental car, constantly scanning for trouble. He had to get Kendra out of here.
“Rocky.”
She was walking toward him. Confusion nagged at his forehead. “Get in the car,” he ordered again.
She held her open cell phone up so that he could see. “He said to put down your weapon.”
What the hell was she talking about?
She moistened her lips, swallowed with visibl
e difficulty, then bent at the waist and placed her weapon on the pavement. When she straightened, she peered at him, her eyes pleading. “Put your weapon down.”
“No way.”
Glass cracked.
His attention swung to the car—Roper’s car. The rear window was shattered.
“Please,” Kendra urged, “put it down. They’ll kill us both if you don’t.”
He bent at the knees, lowered far enough to place his weapon down as Kendra had directed. Before he straightened fully, two men, weapons drawn, stepped from the tree line. From the corner of his eye, Rocky saw a third man moving from the trees on the opposite side of the road.
Kendra’s cell phone clattered to the pavement and her hands went up.
Rocky held his arms away from his side, his hands up. One man’s eyes were swollen, the skin around them discolored, and his nose was taped as if he’d recently survived a brawl.
The injured guy walked up to Rocky, glowered at him then punched him in the face.
The pain shattered up the bridge of Rocky’s nose. He flinched, but refused to reach up and protect his face.
“That’s for breaking my nose,” the guy roared.
Rocky resisted the impulse to swipe his hand across his face. He forced his lips into a smile. “You must’ve been the driver. You should wear your seat belt.” When Rocky had rammed that silver car, the driver’s face had apparently had an up-close encounter with the steering wheel.
The guy drew back his fist. Rocky braced.
“Burton’s coming. Let’s go.”
Kendra turned her head to stare at the approaching SUV. Two seconds later her eyes confirmed what the scumbag had announced.
The vehicle rolling toward them stopped, engine still running, and Wayne Burton emerged from the driver’s side. “Get them in the car.”
A weapon rammed into the back of her skull, Kendra started walking toward the vehicle. As she passed Wayne she glared at him. “You bastard.”
He said nothing.
A jab of the muzzle propelled her forward a little faster. When she stopped at the rear passenger side door, the man with the gun rammed it into the back of her head a little harder and said, “Get in.”