Gotcha!

by Christie Craig

  Only two hours he’d been gone, and he missed Macy like the devil. He’d hated leaving her, even for a little while, but the sooner he could get Tanks back behind bars and Billy safely off the streets, the sooner he could focus on just her. The vision of her naked, tugging at that towel, made a lap around his mind. Want, desire, and a smile pulled at his gut.

  Jake met Mark by the door. “What’s up?”

  “No one’s answering,” Mark said, and knocked again.

  “Who called this in?”

  “The owner,” Donaldson offered. “A Mr. Brown.”

  “I’ll go around back and check?” Jake reached automatically to unstrap his gun as he headed around the side.

  The gate stood ajar, broken. As Jake stepped over a piece of splintered wood, his gaze caught on graffiti. Damn, if the writing didn’t look the same as at Macy’s house. A sudden clattering sounded. Jake passed a hand over his Glock and moved toward the back.

  “Mr. Brown?” he called. “It’s the police.”

  Macy’s plan was working. The rental car arrived right after she’d destroyed her second tissue. The assigned agent had been hesitant when she’d appeared at his car looking weepy, bruised, and wearing bunny slippers, but chin held high, she told him she’d been called into work. Baldwin hadn’t mentioned her working, the cop claimed. “Things change,” she’d replied. “Aren’t your orders to follow me?”

  His phone rang and he answered it. “Yes. Do we know for sure if it’s him? Well, let me know when you do. Do I still need to stay on Miss Tucker? Fine.” He frowned.

  “What?” Macy asked when he hung up.

  He didn’t appear happy to share his information, but he finally spoke. “They got a lead on Tanks. About two hundred miles from here.”

  Macy hoped he was right, but finding Tanks didn’t get her closer to her brother. “So you don’t have to follow me?”

  “Until I get further orders, I’m your shadow.”

  So he’d followed her to her house. She’d changed into her uniform, slapped on makeup, then headed to Papa’s Pizza, where she purchased—with her employee discount, of course—six cheese pizzas. Pulling out of the parking lot, she watched to make sure he was behind her. He was. Which meant her next stop was the retirement community where Ellie Chandler worked.

  “I’m not doing anything stupid, Jake,” she muttered.

  Macy remembered feeling as if something wasn’t right with the information she’d read about Ellie. Maybe someone at the home could shed some light on that. Was Ellie really helping Billy, or was she in cahoots with Tanks? Macy knew her brother believed in his girlfriend, but he’d believed in the tooth fairy until he was nine. Nevertheless, Macy couldn’t help but recall Ellie’s squeaky telephone message.

  I love your brother.

  Jake took another step into the backyard. A clanking filled the silence. More as precaution than from instinct, he drew his Glock.

  Passing the side of the house, he saw a man standing behind a junked-out Mustang held up on blocks. “Mr. Brown?”

  The man turned. Jake raised his gun but didn’t point it. The man’s hands shot up in the air, clearly showing he had no weapon, but Jake didn’t miss the flash of guilt in his eyes.

  “I live here,” the man spouted.

  “You’re Mr. Brown?” Jake asked. “I’m with the HPD.”

  “Yes. I called you guys.”

  Jake lowered his gun but continued to study the man’s expression. Something just didn’t feel right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Any news on Tanks?” Macy asked Agent Adkins as she approached his car in the nursing-home parking lot.

  “Nothing yet.”

  Macy explained that when delivering pizzas to a facility, it usually took a few minutes to find the person in charge to sign off. “Give me at least ten minutes before you freak.” The FBI agent didn’t look happy, but she also saw the latest James Patterson book beside him and figured he wasn’t going to miss her that much.

  Inside the old-folks home, she looked for someone who didn’t look official enough to throw her out, but with enough snap to give her information. Searching around, Macy knew she didn’t have a lot of time.

  A man in a wheelchair rolled by. Then she spotted a janitor sweeping out a supply closet.

  “Hi!” Macy smiled at the man. “I’m trying to find the hall Ellie Chandler works. She’s a nurse’s aide, blonde, with a high voice?”

  The man, late fifties and balding, looked up from his broom. “Ellie’s not working today.”

  “I know.” Think fast. “I’m supposed to deliver this to one of her patients, and I forgot which room.”

  “She works the B hall. But you should check with the nurses. Some of the folks are on restrictive diets.”

  Think faster, Macy! “Oh. Well, Ellie’s ordered pizza for this person before. Mrs. What’s-her-name. One of Ellie’s favorites.” Macy prayed Ellie had a favorite.

  “Probably Mrs. Kelly,” the man said. “Suite B-15. I know she’s not on a restrictive diet.”

  “Thanks.” Macy started to go. Then: “Do you know when Ellie is supposed to be back?”

  The janitor frowned. “I heard she called in at the last minute and needed a bunch of time off. It’s not like her.”

  “Not like her, how?” Macy tried to sound causal.

  “She cares more about her patients than most of their own families. Comes in on her days off. Bakes them birthday cakes.”

  “That’s Ellie for you.” Macy forced a smile.

  “Most patients call her an angel. She’s damn near it.”

  “Yeah. Well, I should get this to Mrs. Kelly.”

  Macy hurried off to find room B-15. Who are you, Ellie? And who are you to Billy? Friend or foe?

  Jake made sure they had pictures of the taggings. Probably all gang related. They were connected to Tanks—he sensed it in his gut. A feeling of accomplishment stirred in his belly. This was going to help him find his quarry.

  While Mark asked Mr. Brown questions in the living room, Jake walked around and listened with a half an ear.

  “…in the billboard business,” he heard Mr. Brown say. “They took most of my air brushes and compressors. That’s how I make my living.”

  “What kind of billboards?” Mark asked.

  “The kind you see on the freeway,” the man snapped. “Do you give me the paperwork to report to my insurance?”

  Jake hadn’t forgotten the look of guilt the man wore when he’d first stumbled across him in the backyard. Walking over to an entertainment center, Jake studied the area where the TV had sat.

  Mark’s tone caught Jake’s attention. “How did they get the safe open?”

  Jake moved forward. This wasn’t the MO of the other burglaries. They’d snatched accessible items—TVs, computers, that sort of thing—and left. They hadn’t messed with safes.

  “I—I don’t know,” Mr. Brown stammered. “M-my wife could have left it open.”

  Jake studied the man’s expression. “What’s missing?”

  The man looked over at him. “My wife’s jewelry. Family heirlooms.”

  Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “And where is your wife, Mr. Brown?”

  The man’s face paled. “She’s at the hospital with our daughter. She’s heading up our little girl’s cancer-fund campaign. She’s got a lot on her plate right now. Can’t you just leave her out of this?”

  “It’s our job to cover all the bases,” Mark said. He obviously sensed Jake’s distrust.

  Mr. Brown’s shoulders squared. “Our kid is fighting for her life. Can’t you cut us a break?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mark said, but his eyes didn’t hold the sympathy stirring inside of Jake. “We’ve got to do our job.”

  It was the word cancer, used in the same sentence with little girl, that got to Jake. Seeing his dad suffer had been hell. He couldn’t imagine a child dealing with it. “What kind of cancer?”

  “Leukemia.”

  “
Are they doing a bone-marrow transplant?” Jake asked.

  The man gripped his hands into fists. “Already tried. Didn’t work. There’s a new drug, experimental, but the insurance won’t pay. So my wife is working with some community leaders….”

  Jake glanced out the window to where he’d seen Mr. Brown by the old Mustang. Sympathetic or not, his suspicions deepened.

  Macy looked at her watch. She sat in Mrs. Kelly’s room discussing sweet Ellie Chandler and praying the FBI agent shadowing her in his car was still patiently waiting. She would have left five minutes ago, but the woman kept talking, and Macy was holding on to each word, praying something useful might be said.

  “I hope she’s okay.” Mrs. Kelly sighed. “It’s probably Ellie’s brother got himself in some trouble again.”

  “That’s it!” Macy said.

  “What’s it?”

  “I forgot she had a brother.” Macy’s mind played connect the dots. Jake’s file had stated that Ellie was an only child. Macy remembered Billy telling her that the only reason Ellie was involved with Tanks was because of her brother. That might be important.

  “Do you know if her brother lives with Ellie?” Macy asked.

  Mrs. Kelly picked up her cup of tea. “She says he comes and goes. Sounds as if the boy still has some growing up to do.”

  Glancing at her watch, Macy stood. “I’ve got to go. I’m so sorry about Fred.” She squeezed the woman’s hand in true sympathy for the loss of a friend. “Take care.”

  “I will.” Mrs. Kelly’s eyes teared up. “Tell Ellie I said thank you for the pizza. I’ll heat it up for dinner.”

  Yet another lie she’d told. Macy winced. For Billy, she reminded herself as she hurried out.

  As she passed a phone in the lobby, she considered calling Jake to give him her information. Then again, it might be better to finish her investigation first. It wouldn’t help to be giving the police false information. She might be pulling them off the right track.

  As she stepped out the door, she saw the FBI agent rising out of his car. She waved and hurried to her vehicle before he had a chance to question her. As she moved, she felt a twinge of pain in her shoulders, a side effect from her accident, but it was nothing aspirin wouldn’t cure. Her heart pain was another matter.

  Macy headed next to the home of the wife of one of the escaped convicts. Chase Roberts had been David Tanks’s cell mate. Macy wasn’t sure how this might help her find Billy, but at least she was trying. She checked her rearview mirror for her shadow. Spotting him, she smiled.

  How could Jake get mad when she had her assigned bodyguard with her?

  Jake walked out of Mr. Brown’s house. Donaldson met him by his car. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said.

  “Did what?” Jake opened his car door.

  “You saw him hide it, didn’t you? When you went into the backyard.”

  “I didn’t see anything,” Jake answered honestly. “The guy’s house was really robbed.”

  “Maybe. But you expect me to believe that the guys who robbed this place dropped more than fifty thousand dollars worth of jewelry in the backyard? And you just happened to find it?”

  Ignoring Mark, Jake pulled out his phone and dialed his house to see if Macy had left yet. His answering machine came on. She had to be at the doctor.

  “He was trying to pull off an insurance scam,” Mark accused. “He’s lying about everything.”

  “You don’t believe his daughter has cancer?”

  “Probably not. He made it up just in case you called him on the jewelry. What’s the chance of an insurance company refusing to pay for a kid’s treatment?”

  Jake snapped his phone closed. “This is the real world, Golden Boy. Shit happens that you rich kids never know about.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “What you want to bet that, if I check, I’ll find out his wife and daughter are in Mexico on some shopping trip? If he even has a wife and kid.”

  “Fine. You check. But if I’m right, you make a huge donation to his daughter’s cancer fund.”

  “How huge?” Mark asked.

  “How much can you afford?”

  For a second it appeared as if Mark was going to answer. Then he shook his head. “Fine. If I’m wrong, I’ll make a donation. But if I’m right…?”

  “You name it.” Jake wasn’t worried. The pain in that man’s eyes had been real. Jake knew—he’d lived through it himself. True, Jake had found the allegedly stolen jewels hidden in the trunk of the Mustang. True, Mr. Brown had been thinking of pulling off insurance fraud, but—

  “You bring me breakfast for a year. And no Pop-Tarts without the frosting, either. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Jake got into his car.

  “Billy, wake up.”

  Billy rolled over to see Andy crouched down beside the sofa. The first thought floating through his mind was that he needed to talk to Ellie. He still needed to find out about the phone call. Last night he’d tried to talk to her, but she’d locked the bedroom door and refused to come out. And while Andy admitted Ellie had used his phone, the kid had cleaned out his messages and erased the memory. How unlucky could he get?

  Billy glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost three in the afternoon. How could he have slept this late? He needed to go back to that house and find Tanks.

  “We got trouble,” Andy whispered.

  Billy saw the panic in the boy’s eyes and shot upright. “What—?”

  Andy hushed him. “It’s the police,” he whispered. “They’re parked outside.”

  Macy stepped off the porch when no one answered the door. Her personal guard had parked behind her, and she turned and offered a wave. Right then, a little boy on a bike came pedaling up the drive. His brown skin gleamed in the afternoon sun.

  “Did my mama order pizza?” he asked, tossing down his bike.

  Macy smiled. “Is she not at home?”

  “She went”—the little boy grew quiet—“somewhere.”

  “Sorry I missed her.” Macy spotted the look of longing in the boy’s eyes. “You know, I can leave this and get the money later.”

  “You sure?” He held his hands out for the pizza.

  Macy laughed. “Yeah.”

  She’d started to walk away when he called out, “Wait! She’s at my uncle’s, down the block. The house with red shutters. She could pay if you need her to.”

  “Thanks.” Macy walked to her car, debating if stopping there would really garner any information. What could Chase Roberts’s wife really tell her? But feeling a little Nancy Drewish—hey, she’d already gotten some information that might help—she decided it wouldn’t hurt to try.

  Pulling over at the red-shuttered house, she grabbed another pizza box and strolled up to the door. Hearing voices inside, she knocked. The sudden silence seemed too fast. Almost eerie. But glancing back at the FBI agent in the car, she reassured herself that he had her back. She knocked again.

  “Who is it?” a voice asked from behind the door.

  “Pizza,” Macy answered. Now, to figure out how—

  The door opened, and an older man stared at her. “Come in,” he said.

  “That’s—”

  A hand came out and yanked her inside. The door slammed. Macy’s pizza fell to the floor.

  One look at the man who grasped her elbow, and Macy knew trouble had her number. She’d seen his face on a mug shot.

  “We didn’t order a damn pizza,” Chase Roberts said. “So why don’t you cut the shit.” He slammed her against a wall.

  “I’ll not be part of this.” The older man who’d opened the door left the room.

  “I…must have the wrong address?” Macy swallowed hard when the man’s other hand came up around her neck.

  Her eyes shot to the window, then to the man’s crotch. She threw her knee but missed, and Roberts’s hand tightened around her neck.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  The escaped convict’s face was so close, Macy smelled the onions h
e’d had with his lunch. She shifted her left hand out toward the table on the wall beside her. She found a smooth, hard surface. A statue.

  Buddha to the rescue.

  “Fuck!” Billy rolled off the sofa onto the floor. “Are you sure it’s the police?”

  Andy went to peer out the window. “It’s a patrol car. Just one guy. He’s just sitting there. Maybe he’s not here for you.”

  Billy took a deep breath. “Go see what he wants. Don’t…do anything stupid. But if they know…” He swallowed. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “If they know I’m here, I’ll turn myself in. I don’t want you or Ellie hurt.” But even as he said it, he looked at the trailer’s back door.

  Jake had barely driven off before the desire to check on Macy hit again. He pulled over and went through his phone until he found the number her guard had given him that morning.

  “Hey,” he said when Agent Adkins answered. “This is Baldwin. Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” was the curt answer.

  Jake settled back in his seat. “She still at the doctor?”

  “She didn’t go to the doctor.”

  Jake leaned forward. “Why not?”

  “She was called into work.”

  “Work? She doesn’t have a car,” Jake said.

  “She rented one.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “My orders were to follow her. To look out for any gold Cavaliers. I’m following her and looking out for gold Cavaliers.”

  “Are you at the pizza place now?”

  “No. We’re at…1060 Dayton Avenue. She’s delivering a pizza.”

  Dayton? Dayton? Warning bells started ringing in Jake’s head. He grabbed the escapees’ files and scanned the pages.

  1042 Dayton Avenue.

  It wasn’t the same address, but it was too damn close for coincidence. “Do you see her right now?”