by Rose, Karen
Clay considered it. ‘Possibly. Then that person would be a secondary connection.’
‘Like what?’ Emma pressed.
‘How are any two people connected? Work, family, friends, hobbies, geography. Maybe he and Silas had a past partner in common. Maybe they played for the same ball team or lived in the same neighborhood. Lippman got to these guys through their families. He threatened Silas’s kid and Elizabeth Morton’s, too. Maybe Rossi has a kid. Maybe their kids played on the same soccer team. Hell, I don’t know. But Tony Rossi’s in one of these files, somewhere. Whatever he did, it’s got to be big. Like major felony big. Attacking the safe house was a huge risk.’
‘You’re right,’ Emma said thoughtfully. ‘He had to know that he’d be up on murder charges if he got caught. Attempted murder at the very least if he’d tried and hadn’t managed to kill Stevie. As it is, he’ll be charged with the murder of the undercover policewoman.’
‘And now that he’s caught, it’s a matter of time before someone connects him to his crime,’ Tanner said. ‘Whether it’s through IA’s efforts or yours, he aimed the spotlight on himself by attacking the safe house.’
‘He believed the benefits outweighed the risk,’ Emma said.
Tanner shook his head. ‘It’s more likely that he believed he wouldn’t get caught.’
‘Which puts IA under even more suspicion,’ Clay said wearily. ‘When they were doing the investigating, nobody was getting attacked. When Stevie discovered the Lippman list was not inclusive, the attacks began. Rossi didn’t think he’d get caught when IA was holding the reins.’ He grimaced. ‘I want to believe IA was just incompetent and not corrupt, but we can’t afford to.’
‘I agree.’ Emma’s sigh was frustrated. ‘We could read reports till the cows come home if we don’t know what we’re looking for. It’s too bad all this stuff isn’t in a computer somewhere.’
Tanner lifted a page from one of the reports. ‘It is. It got printed out of the BPD computer.’
‘Well, yes,’ she said, ‘but that’s not what I meant. We can print out the reports, but it would be nice to ask the computer to find the connection for us.’
Clay felt like smacking his own head. He’d overlooked the obvious solution. ‘We can. This is the kind of thing that Alec does best.’ He dialed Alec’s cell from the secure line, unsurprised when the boy immediately answered, despite the early hour. ‘I need your help.’ He told Alec about the reports and what they were looking for. ‘We may be looking for a case that neither Stevie nor Silas worked on, one that Lippman contracted, but never added to his list. Can you work your computer voodoo?’
Alec chuckled. ‘No voodoo, but I can input all the names and keywords you found in the reports into a simple database. Add whatever I can get from their service records, Google as much about their personal lives as I can find and cross-reference. It wouldn’t take long, especially since you’ve got the reports summarized. Fax me the notes you have, keep summarizing, then send me the rest when you’re done. I’ll be in touch. Bye for now.’
Tanner gathered the notes. ‘I’ll fax them from my office.’ He went into what had been Clay’s mother’s dining room, now the office where he conducted his charter fishing business.
‘This should save us time in the long run,’ Clay said when he’d disconnected the call. He pulled the stack of reports they hadn’t yet read to the end of the table where he sat.
One folder stood out from the rest, its bright green color a contrast to all the manila.
‘Stevie kept starting to read that set of reports,’ Clay said, ‘but kept changing her mind.’
‘What’s in the folder, Clay?’ Emma asked.
Clay opened the folder and let out a breath when he saw the dates on the reports. ‘The first one was completed two weeks after her husband and son’s murder, the last about a year later. These were the cases Silas investigated while she was on bereavement and maternity leave.’
Emma’s shoulders sagged. ‘Is the report on the murders of Paul and Paulie in there?’
‘No.’
‘Good. At least she didn’t have to read it.’
Clay looked at her. ‘You really think she hasn’t?’
Emma sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m sure she has. But at least she doesn’t have to again. Give me the folder. I’ll go through them.’
Clay shook his head. ‘We can do it together.’
They split the green folder, each taking a half, working in silence until Tanner returned to the table. ‘Fax is sent,’ he said. ‘Pass me some of those reports.’
Clay did so with one hand, picking up the ringing phone with the other. It was Alec.
‘I got the fax,’ he said. ‘I should be able to turn this around in a few hours.’
‘Good,’ Clay said. ‘Because I have something else I want you to do when you’re finished. How much of that camera installation did you get done up at Daphne’s yesterday?’
‘About half, why?’
Clay thought about Rossi shooting at the bed in the safe house, believing he was shooting a seven-year-old child. His very attempt might be enough to dissuade any further attacks on Stevie. As JD had said, all of BPD now knew there were more dirty cops – and a department leak. That might be enough to ensure her safety.
But Clay couldn’t afford to count on that. And if the attacks on Stevie continued, it would be safer for Cordelia to not be in Stevie’s proximity. Stevie might not agree, but he wanted to have a place ready in case she did. He’d promised he’d keep them safe and he didn’t break his promises.
‘I want you to go back to the farm and finish it today. Once the cameras are installed, the farm will be secure enough for Cordelia, and she can continue her therapy with the horses.’
‘Will Stevie come with her?’ Alec asked.
‘I don’t know yet. Get the farm ready for Cordelia, and we’ll figure it out from there.’
‘Okay. Will I be up at the farm on my own, or will I have help? If I have to do it on my own, it’ll take me more than another full day.’
‘You’ll have help.’ DeMarco and Julliard would welcome the overtime pay.
Clay’s father gave him a sharp look when he hung up. ‘You’re letting Stevie go?’
Hell, no. Clay kept his face as expressionless as he could, ignoring Emma’s shrewd stare. ‘I can’t hold her here. She’s free to go wherever she wants.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Tanner said. ‘And you know it.’
‘I know what you meant. And I meant what I said. She’s not a prisoner. Now let’s get back to work, please.’
Clay dropped his eyes to the report in front of him, but his mind had already begun working the logistics for moving Cordelia to an alternate location. By land or by water? He had to be realistic. Once whoever was after Stevie learned she hadn’t been in the safe house, they’d start looking for her elsewhere. That he’d been with her in her front yard would filter into the BPD grapevine sooner versus later. And though this place was secure, there were ways to connect this place to Clay through his parents, were someone determined enough.
Four shooting attempts in two days? And one in a safe house?
They were determined enough. It was only a matter of time before she was tracked here. The property itself was secure, but anyone that determined could be patient enough to wait on the road to waylay a car carrying Cordelia. And Stevie, if she decided to leave as well.
The road wasn’t safe. Going by water would probably be safer.
Now he knew exactly what he’d do and exactly who he’d call to put his plan in place. That settled, he blinked hard and forced his eyes to focus on the page before him.
Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 6.58 A.M.
Sam Hudson pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up for the better part of an hour, waiting for the morning
shift to arrive. ‘Hey, Dee.’
Dina Andrews looked over her shoulder, a smile lighting her face. ‘Sammy. What brings you to the tomb so early in the morning?’
They’d dated once, five years ago. Dina was one of the rarities in Sam’s experience – an honest woman on the dating scene. She’d been upfront that she was looking for long-term. Sam had liked her, but not that way. So they’d stayed friends and few were more loyal than Dina.
‘I come bearing gifts.’ He held out a bag and a cup from the Starbucks on the corner. ‘My mom’s homemade pumpkin bread and a cup of decaf tea.’
She accepted the gifts with a suspicious narrowing of her eyes. ‘Why?’
‘Because I need a favor.’ He followed her back to her cubicle, then held out the evidence bag with the revolver inside. ‘Can you run a check on this?’
She took the bag, brows lifted. ‘Is there a report to go along with it?’
‘Not yet. It was left for me. Not too far from where I was sleeping.’
Not a lie. Technically. The revolver had been left for him, three feet from where he’d slept away thirty hours like the dead – eight years ago.
‘Someone in the neighborhood maybe?’
‘Who knows?’ he replied. ‘Maybe a guilty conscience or an innocent bystander.’
She studied him squarely and he knew that she guessed he was keeping secrets. ‘Okay. I’ll call you when I have something.’
‘Thanks, Dee. You’re the best.’
Sam walked away, dread pooling in his gut. She’d find something. He knew it. He should have checked eight years ago, but he’d been so afraid of what he’d find. So he’d said nothing.
Please God, he whispered in his mind. Please don’t let it be anything I can’t fix. Please.
Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 8.15 A.M.
‘Mr Maynard?’
Cordelia’s little whisper came from above his head, from the middle of the staircase. Clay looked up, relieved he’d locked Stevie’s files in the closet under the stairs. There were crimes in those folders that adults should never have had to see, much less a child Cordelia’s age.
Already dressed, with her hair brushed, she sat on the step that came even with his head, her face pressed between the spindles. ‘Where’s my mo— Oh. There she is.’
He looked over his shoulder, following her gaze to the sofa where Stevie slept soundly. ‘She got up to work last night and fell asleep at the kitchen table.’
‘She does that sometimes,’ Cordelia said, aggrieved. ‘She’ll say, “I’m just resting my eyes”, then the next thing Aunt Izzy and I know, she’s snoring, really loud. She says she doesn’t snore, but she does.’ The last word was punctuated with a hard nod that made Clay grin. ‘Did you have to put away all her reports so I wouldn’t see them?’
His grin faded. ‘Yes,’ he said, wondering why he continued to be surprised at this child’s solid grasp on the reality around her. ‘Do you ever peek?’
‘No. Mom says those papers will mess up my head. I think I’m already messed up enough. Puppies and Skittles,’ she added with a dramatic sigh that tried to hide so much pain and fear.
‘And flowers and rainbows. I’m sorry, honey.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s okay. Where is everybody?’
‘Miss Emma went back upstairs to sleep.’ Emma had lasted another hour before her eyes drooped shut once again. ‘She tried to work but kept falling asleep on the reports.’
‘Where’s Mr Tanner? And the dogs?’
‘Out for a walk and a swim. Dad walks, the dogs swim.’
‘The water’s too cold. They’ll get sick.’
‘Nah. They’re bred to swim in cold water. They’ll be fine.’
‘Where are the puppies?’ Cordelia asked.
‘In their bed by the furnace.’ He thumbed over his shoulder and she strained to fit her face between the spindles, trying to get a glimpse. ‘Your head’s gonna get stuck,’ he cautioned mildly, making her giggle. The sound lifted his heart. Too late, Stevie. Way too late for me not to get attached to your baby girl.
Being around Stevie’s child made him happy and wistful, all at once. I should have had this. Should have had a daughter. But the daughter of his blood was lost to him. He’d never seen her smile, never heard her giggle. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he’d hoped at a second chance at fatherhood with Cordelia Mazzetti.
And with a child Stevie and I might have made together. But Stevie had been very clear on that point. He might never stop hoping, but realistically he had to accept that the family he’d always wanted might never be.
He wanted to be angry with Stevie, but he couldn’t. She was protecting her child and herself the best way she knew how. He had to figure out how to stop her from doing it.
‘You look so sad,’ Cordelia said quietly. ‘Why?’
You promised you wouldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t discuss his issues with Stevie, so he gave her the only other honest answer he could. ‘I miss my own little girl.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You have a little girl?’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘Not so little anymore. She’ll be twenty-two this summer.’
Cordelia studied him through the spindles. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Sienna.’ It hurt to say it out loud.
‘Why do you miss her? Why don’t you see her?’
‘It’s complicated. She . . . doesn’t like me.’ Understatement of the damn century.
‘Why not? I think you’re nice.’
That made him smile. ‘You’re pretty nice, too. Like I said, it’s complicated. Her mother kept her from me. I wasn’t allowed to see her when she was growing up.’
‘Why?’ She sounded so distressed on his behalf that his own heart was eased.
‘I could never get her mother to tell me. I didn’t even know about Sienna until she was much older.’
‘But now she’s a grownup, right? You don’t need her mama’s permission, do you?’
‘No, I guess not. Her mama’s not living anymore, anyway. I’ve tried to contact Sienna, but every time I show up to see her, she’s somewhere else. She lives out west now, in California.’ At least that was the last known address he had for her. A rented mailbox in a UPS store.
Cordelia extended her small hand and patted his cheek gently. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I’m going to make waffles. You want to help me?’
‘You can make waffles?’ she asked skeptically.
‘You just watch me. Come on.’ He held out his hand and she skipped down the stairs, taking his hand with an unexpectedly firm grip. He looked down at her fierce little face and saw Stevie in her eyes. ‘What is it, honey?’ he asked.
‘Where am I going today?’
‘Don’t know yet. I’m waiting to talk to your mom when she wakes up. For the next hour, you can stick with me and I’ll show you my mother’s waffle recipe. I used to help her cook when I was your age.’ He sniffed. ‘Dad must be back from his walk. I smell fresh coffee.’
‘Mom really likes coffee. Do you have chocolate chips?’
‘For the coffee? Yuck.’
She giggled again. ‘No, silly. For the waffles.’
‘Chocolate in waffles?’ He looked down again, relieved to see her fierceness replaced with a simple smile. ‘Really?’
‘Oh my gosh, yes.’
Stevie waited until the kitchen door swung shut before sitting up on the sofa. I’m learning a helluva lot, listening in on my daughter’s conversations.
Clay had a daughter. That gave Stevie something to think about. But the words that stuck in her head were the ones she’d heard coming from Cordelia.
I’m all she has left, she’d said last night. And just now? I’m
messed up enough.
Dear God. What have I done? She’d put her baby in harm’s way repeatedly, that’s what she’d done. In her head Stevie knew she’d been doing her job, an important job at that. She hadn’t been negligent. Hadn’t deliberately left her child unprotected.
But her heart shouted the truth. I failed to keep my own child safe.
She started to follow them into the kitchen, but held back, not ready to face Clay yet. She looked at the sofa, remembering exactly how she’d gotten there. She’d fallen asleep at the table, a stack of folders her pillow. And then she was being carried in strong arms, deposited on the sofa with a tenderness that had cut her deep, even in the fog of half-waking. He’d tucked her in as carefully as if she’d been a child herself. Brushed the hair from her face.
She’d opened her eyes to find him standing next to the sofa, staring down at her with a yearning that stole her breath. But he hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t made a move. Just turned around and went back to the kitchen. And she’d fallen back to sleep, feeling safe.
A piece of her rebelled at the notion. She didn’t need anyone to keep her safe. I can take care of myself. Grabbing her cane, she pushed herself to her feet and rolled her shoulder, the bullet wound from the day before still fresh enough to burn like fire.
You can take care of yourself? Really? So how’s that been working for you?
Shut up.
Feeling foolish, she turned and lifted her eyes to the window . . . and froze. Before her was the most beautiful day she’d seen in a long time. The sun reflected off the Chesapeake Bay in countless sparkles of light that glittered like diamonds. The sky was a cloudless blue, broken only by the lazy flight of seabirds.
Something within her settled. Quiet, she realized. Here was quiet. On another day, under different circumstances, she might have even found peace.
‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘I knew it would be magnificent.’
‘The view?’ Tanner asked. She looked over her shoulder to see him approaching, a mug of steaming coffee gripped in each fist.
‘It’s amazing,’ she told him. ‘You can see forever. The water, the waves. The birds. You’re lucky to be able to see it every day. Thank you,’ she added when he gave her one of the mugs.