Watch Your Back

by Rose, Karen

  And then she saw the reason for Cordelia’s laughter. Her daughter knelt in the corner of the great room where four puppies frolicked. The one she’d picked up was busily licking her face.

  ‘Of course he’d have dogs,’ Stevie murmured with a sigh. But then Cordelia squealed, giggling wildly, and Stevie found herself grateful for the dogs, too.

  Cordelia looked over her shoulder with a delighted grin. ‘Mama, he’s got puppies!’

  Stevie was helpless not to smile back. ‘I know, baby. I can see them.’

  And she could feel Clay. He stood behind her, just close enough so that the heat from his body sent another shiver over her skin.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said and eased around her, taking care not to touch.

  He knelt beside Cordelia and picked up one of the other puppies, holding it against his broad chest. ‘They’ve gotten big. Last time I was here they were half this size.’

  ‘How old are they?’ Cordelia asked. ‘Are they boys or girls? What kind of dogs are they? What are their names? Who do they belong to? Where’s their mama and papa?’

  Clay chuckled. ‘About eight weeks. Two of each. They’re Chesapeake Bay Retrievers. You’ve got Mannix. That’s Rockford and Pepper. I’ve got Beckett.’ He frowned. ‘What else did you ask? Oh. They belong to my dad. And their parents are around here somewhere.’

  The back door opened, letting in a blast of cold, salty air, as well as a man wearing an Orioles ball cap, and two large brown dogs whose curly coats were beaded with drops of water. The dogs started to run toward Clay, but the man barked, ‘Lacey, Columbo, sit,’ and the dogs instantly obeyed. The man dried them with a towel, then released them.

  ‘Okay,’ he said and the dogs bounded over to Clay and Cordelia.

  This would be Clay’s father, Stevie thought and felt a shaft of panic. Had Clay told him about her? Did he know she’d told his son to go away? She had her answer a moment later after he’d shrugged out of his windbreaker and hung his cap on a peg by the door.

  He crossed to where she stood, studying her with a level scrutiny that made her want to hide. He was of medium height and build. Fair-skinned and mostly gray-haired, he had a few threads of red still running through his military style buzz cut. His eyes were clear and blue, his mouth unsmiling. There was no resemblance between father and son whatsoever.

  ‘So you’re the detective,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I’m Stevie Mazzetti,’ she said, just as quietly. ‘Thank you for taking us in, Mr Maynard. I’m in your debt.’

  ‘You’re welcome and no, you’re not. You’re in his.’ He indicated Clay with a sideways tilt of his head. ‘And I’m not Mr Maynard. My name is Tanner.’

  Stevie glanced down at her feet, then up again. ‘Then thank you, Mr Tanner.’

  ‘Not mister. Just Tanner.’

  Clay came to his feet. ‘This is my dad, Tanner St James. Dad, this is Cordelia Mazzetti.’

  Tanner turned to give her daughter a nod. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said, and sounded like he meant it. ‘I thought there was one more. Another lady?’

  ‘She’s in the bathroom,’ Cordelia said in a loud whisper. ‘She had too much coffee.’

  Tanner’s lips twitched. ‘That’ll do it. Are you hungry, little girl?’

  Cordelia glanced at Stevie for approval before nodding. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then come on. I’ll fix you some stew so you can sleep with your belly full. Leave the puppies there and wash your hands.’ He turned his back on Stevie and pushed the swinging door open for Cordelia, then let it swing shut in Stevie’s face.

  Yep. He knows about me, all right.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Clay said. ‘He’s my dad. He was, um, annoyed at you. On my behalf.’

  ‘It’s fair. I probably would have been, too.’

  The kitchen door swung open and Tanner reappeared holding a large paper sack which he wordlessly handed to Clay before returning to the kitchen.

  Clay held up the bag. ‘Our dinner. We’re going to eat while we talk.’ He walked to the back door through which his father had come in with the dogs, then frowned when he saw she hadn’t moved. ‘I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with here. So please, come with me.’

  Feeling a little like she was walking the plank, Stevie obeyed.

  Sunday, March 16, 12.05 A.M.

  Clay took a quick survey of the beach before closing and locking the gate behind them. It was empty as far as the eye could see. He didn’t see any boats on the horizon, but the night was windy. Few would venture out on a night like this without a good reason.

  Or an unfinished murder to commit.

  ‘Stay close,’ he said, drawing his gun from his shoulder holster. She’d drawn hers as well, but limped slowly, her cane digging deep into the soft sand. He frowned as the glitter on her cane reflected the moonlight. ‘You need a black cane. You might as well be carrying a damn flare.’

  ‘Cordelia said she asked you about it. We’ll worry about it later. Where are we going?’

  ‘To the boathouse, there on the dock.’

  Her chin jerked up as she stared at the small structure at the end of the two-hundred-foot long dock, her dismay apparent. ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re not afraid of water, are you?’ he said, surprised.

  Her brows lowered. ‘Of course not. It’s just . . . Why don’t we just stay in the house?’

  ‘Because I’m going to ask questions that I doubt you want Cordelia hearing the answers to.’

  ‘It’s a two-story house, Clay,’ she said, with exaggerated patience. ‘Let’s just go upstairs.’

  A picture immediately formed in his mind – her, in his bed. Smiling at him, sated and happy. The image was a familiar one, only because it mocked him in his dreams with consistent regularity. It mocked him now, but his body still responded. Just like it always did.

  He lifted his brows, releasing some of his frustration in sarcasm. ‘All the rooms upstairs are bedrooms. We can if you want to, though.’ He watched her eyes go wide with outrage, then narrow to slits as her cheeks grew pink. She opened her mouth to say something he also doubted she would’ve wanted Cordelia to hear, but he cut her off. ‘I have equipment to check out there in the boathouse. I need to show you how it operates, in case you’re here alone.’

  ‘You could have just said so,’ she muttered, shaking her head in disgust. With a determined set of her shoulders, she set off across the sand at a pace so slow that it was painful to watch.

  She’s tired, he thought. He considered picking her up and carrying her, but the brief contact they’d had when he’d helped her up the garage stairs had been far too much. But only because it wasn’t nearly enough and unless she changed her mind, it never would be.

  Still . . . ‘Do you want me to help you?’ he asked quietly.

  Her chin shot up again, her eyes wary. ‘How?’

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll lay plywood across the sand, to make it easier for you to walk. Now . . .’ He held his breath while she stared at the arm he extended like it might sprout poison spikes.

  After a few seconds she grabbed on, digging her fingers into his skin. She wasn’t just tired. She was in pain. Hell.

  ‘Hold this,’ he said, handing her the dinner bag. ‘And don’t yell at me.’ He scooped her up into his arms and carried her the remaining distance, across the sand and down the dock to the boathouse door. When he put her down, she was trembling. How much was exhaustion he didn’t know. He suspected most of it was rage, though.

  ‘Don’t you dare do that,’ she hissed as he unlocked the door. ‘Ever. Again.’

  ‘Get inside,’ was all he said. All he could say. He needed a moment to gather his control, to keep himself from reaching again. Because she’d fit up against him just like he’d always known she would. Perfectly.

 
He pointed to a folding chair. ‘Sit. This’ll take a while.’ He dragged a small table to her side and unpacked the stew. ‘Should be a thermos of coffee in there, too.’

  Her expression was still mutinous. ‘How did your dad have the bag already prepared?’

  ‘I asked him to get it ready when I told him you were coming. He knew I’d need to talk to you. Privately.’

  ‘Oh.’ She dug into the stew, saying nothing more while he cleared away the life preservers and tarps camouflaging his equipment cabinet. He unlocked it and spread the doors open wide. He, too, said nothing as he flipped switches and turned on computer monitors, figuring it would be only a matter of minutes before her curiosity overcame her ire.

  It was actually more like thirty seconds.

  ‘What the fuck is this place?’ she whispered.

  ‘More security. If you want to come over here, I’ll show you how to make sure nobody sneaks up on you and Cordelia from the water.’

  She crossed the small space, dragging her folding chair with her. When she’d sat, he began.

  ‘These monitors display feed from six underwater cameras, fixed to pilings placed in a pyramidal formation. This monitor is the thermal imaging cameras. And this monitor—’

  ‘Stop. Just . . . stop. You have a fence, a gate. Bullet-proof windows and bank vault doors.’

  ‘Bullet-resistant windows,’ he corrected.

  ‘Whatever. And now this place? I feel like I just walked into a James Bond flick. Who is your father, that he needs this kind of protection? I’m not plugged into politics, but I think even I would remember if your father used to be the President of the United States. Which he was not. Is he a celebrity that I’ve just never heard of? Maybe an exiled king? This is a beach house, for God’s sake, not frickin’ Fort Knox. So what the hell is all this?’

  Clay straddled the other folding chair. ‘The fence and the motion detectors were for my mother, mostly. The rest is business. My business.’

  She frowned. ‘So you’re not going to tell me?’

  ‘No, I mean it’s my business. What I do for a living.’

  ‘You’re a PI.’

  ‘I’m also a security specialist. My first partner and I got the PI license to do background checks on our clients’ employees.’

  ‘Your first partner? Nicki?’

  Hearing Nicki’s name still hurt, after all this time. Stevie had never known her, but she and JD Fitzpatrick had caught the sonofabitch who’d gutted Nicki in her own bed and left her to rot.

  ‘No. My first partner was Ethan Buchanan. He lives in Chicago now with his wife and kids. He and I were in the Corps together, back in the nineties. In Somalia. I left after two tours, came home to DCPD. He stayed on, planning to be a career Marine. But he got hurt in Afghanistan. He came home about the time that I resigned from DCPD, so we went into business together. I trained personal security forces for businesses and private individuals.’

  ‘Rich folk.’

  ‘Most of them, yeah. Ethan had some contacts that got us started. We were pretty successful. Ethan did the computer end of security. He’s a “white hat”.’

  ‘A good hacker.’

  ‘Yes. His specialty is hacking into “secure” servers and showing businesses how vulnerable they are to attack. The businesses always hire him to fix the holes in their networks. We never did any real investigative work until . . .’ He frowned. ‘Until Alec was kidnapped.’

  Her eyes widened in shock. ‘What? When? Who kidnapped him?’

  ‘Sue Conway, one of the most vicious women I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. It was six years ago now. See, Ethan is Alec’s godfather. When he found out Alec was gone, he started searching. I helped. It happened here. This house, in fact.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Which your father now owns?’

  His smile had an edge. ‘One of life’s little twists of fate. That’s the main reason Alec didn’t come with us. I do need him in the office, but he still has issues with this house.’

  ‘Understandable, I suppose,’ she murmured.

  Clay wondered if she realized how similar Cordelia’s situation was to Alec’s. Stevie’s daughter hated their house. Which was completely understandable given the violence that had occurred there.

  ‘How did your dad end up living here?’ she asked. ‘And why all the James Bond toys?’

  ‘Well, like I said, the fence and alarm system was for my mother. She and Dad bought this place a few years after the kidnapping. My mother fell in love with the view and Dad agreed because the price was right, but that was because the house had been sitting on the market for two years. The realtor didn’t tell them about the crimes that happened here. They wouldn’t have bought it either. Dad was a cop for twenty-five years. He had no wish to live in a house that had been the scene of an abduction and a murder.’

  Again her eyes widened. ‘Who got murdered?’

  ‘The fiancée of Alec’s speech therapist was murdered here, in the boathouse, but not the one we’re in now. The old boathouse was on the beach. And it was really a boathouse.’

  ‘Not Seal Team Six Command Central,’ she said dryly. ‘I haven’t forgotten my original question, which was why your parents bought this specific place? Are you from this town?’

  ‘No. I was born in upstate New York, but grew up just outside of DC. My dad married my mother when I was five and moved us into his house. He was a DC cop, so we had to live close to the city.’ He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘My ex-fiancée lives here, in Wight’s Landing. My parents bought the beach house when they thought I’d be moving here, too.’

  Stevie’s eyes widened, then narrowed. ‘You had a fiancée?’

  She sounded a tad pissed off and Clay liked that. ‘I did. We ended it four years ago.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we were better friends than spouses and were lucky enough to figure that out before we ruined our friendship.’

  ‘Does she still live around here?’

  ‘Yep. Lou Moore is the sheriff. You’ve met her sister, Alyssa. My admin assistant.’

  She still frowned. ‘I remember Alyssa. Whatever happened to her?’

  ‘She still works for me, but she’s on vacation. Her boyfriend is a college student and this is his spring break. They went camping.’ He shrugged. ‘With tents.’

  ‘You don’t like camping?’ she asked.

  ‘Got my fill of tents and sleeping on the ground in the Corps.’

  ‘Okay, so your parents bought the house as a surprise, but you canceled the wedding.’

  Technically Lou had, but Clay didn’t think that fact would add to the conversation. ‘And then they couldn’t sell it because buyers always would hear the story from a local. If my parents hadn’t wanted to keep it such a big secret to surprise us, somebody would have told them, too. They couldn’t move because all of their retirement savings were tied up in the house.’

  ‘That stinks.’ She pointed to the computer monitors, which, for the moment at least, were completely static. ‘And the James Bond toys?’

  He sighed. ‘The woman who abducted Alec murdered more than a dozen people before she was done with her killing spree. Alec was almost one of them. So was Ethan’s wife, Dana.’

  ‘Where is the killer now?’

  ‘Sue Conway’s serving life in an Illinois state prison, where she’s developed quite a cult following. We get a lot of crazies here, wanting to see the place where Sue “started her quest for revenge”. At first it was just annoying. Then one day one of the crazies came into the house and fell asleep in one of the beds. My mom was really rattled. The next day I installed security.’

  ‘The fences and the alarms.’

  ‘And the cameras on the outside of the house as well as the motion detectors on the beach. Made her feel safer. Then I realiz
ed I was selling a lot more of those same security features to my clients than I had before. I could say, “This is what I put on my own mother’s house and I know it works”. Over time I asked Mom and Dad if I could install more security features, just to try them out. Mom liked the idea. Dad wanted a tank so he could mow down the crazies.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘Mom put her foot down on that.’

  Her lips curved in a small smile. ‘I bet she did.’

  ‘Sometimes a wealthy client wants something special that I have no experience with. I’ll get a test version for myself, sell a helluva lot of them later. That’s how I got all this “Team Six” stuff, as you call it. A celebrity client had a beachfront compound and wanted to keep the paparazzi away. When the photographers started diving off boats and swimming in, my client got pissed. Now he’s got all this, only more of it and more expensive models. His family is safe.’

  ‘And so is my daughter. When you see that client again, thank him for me.’

  ‘I will.’

  Her gaze skittered away, then swung back, meeting his eyes determinedly. ‘Your father was right. I am in your debt, Clay. Thank you. This . . . This is more than I expected.’

  Someday . . . someday you’ll say that to me. That I’m more than you expected. His chest physically hurt, but he ignored it. ‘You’re welcome. Now I have questions for you.’

  ‘I know. Ask what you need to. I’ll do my best to answer.’

  ‘Why is somebody shooting at you?’

  She laughed, surprising him. ‘I guess that’s cutting right to the heart of it.’ She sobered, blew out a breath. ‘I told you and JD that I paid a visit to IA yesterday. I think we have more cops out there who might have been involved with Silas Dandridge’s crimes.’

  ‘You did, but I’m confused. I thought all the dirty cops were called out in that defense lawyer’s post-mortem tattle report. Stuart Lippman, right? But earlier, when we were in your kitchen, you said you hadn’t gotten them all.’

  ‘Lippman didn’t just tattle on dirty cops. He had ex-cons working for him, too. And other lawyers. We thought he’d named all the names, but I discovered there were others.’