by Rose, Karen
‘Yeah, I think I would. But don’t wait too long. March is halfway over already and April’s lousy weather for kiting. Can you hit the buzzer?’
Robinette pushed the button attached discreetly beneath his desk, signaling the receptionist on duty outside his door. Immediately the door was opened and Brenda Lee wheeled herself out.
He heard her exchange greetings with Fletcher out in the hall and fought the urge to drum his fingers on the granite of his desk. Stay calm. He didn’t want Fletch suspecting that he knew about Henderson. He wanted to see the look on Fletch’s face when he sprung his accusation.
Because, he supposed, a piece of him didn’t want to believe Fletcher was capable of such complete and flagrant disregard of a direct order. He didn’t want to believe that his oldest living friend would go behind his back like this.
Henderson’s carelessness had opened the rest of them up to potential scrutiny that could land them all in jail. Or worse. They needed to distance themselves from any police attention. Henderson had known that as well as any of them and now needed to be contained.
Fletcher closed the door. Gave Robinette a distracted nod. ‘Robbie, I need to talk to you.’
Robinette watched Fletcher pace the length of his office. ‘I sent for you,’ he said calmly.
‘I know. But let me go first.’ Fletcher turned to face him. ‘I saw Henderson last night.’
Robinette managed not to blink although it was hard. He hadn’t expected Fletch to come right out with it that way. ‘Why?’
‘I got a call around ten. Henderson had tried to call you first, but you were at that event.’
‘I told you to sever contact with Henderson. Why didn’t you?’
‘Because I’m a doctor. Even if I can’t practice anymore, I’m still a doctor and I took an oath. If someone begs me to help them, I’m not going to say no. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d let Henderson suffer, knowing I could have done something. If you’re angry with me, so be it.’
‘I’ll be honest. I am angry. I gave that order to protect us. I didn’t respond to Henderson’s calls last night for the same reason. If Henderson is caught and tells the authorities the order to deal with Mazzetti came from me, we could have claimed ignorance, that the accusations were those of a disgruntled and perhaps mentally ill former fellow soldier. Because you answered the call, you’ve put us in a bad position.’
‘I’m sorry. But I’ll be honest. Given the same situation, I’d probably do it again. And it’s not that bad anyway. If anyone asks, I’ll just say I was responding to an old Army buddy in need. That I’m not a doctor anymore works in my favor. I don’t have to report bullet wounds.’
‘But that you had contact at all forges a link the cops can follow straight to us.’ Robinette sighed, a mixture of relief and frustration. There had been no betrayal. Just Fletch being Fletch. Still, it was a problem. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘Do you really need an answer to that question?’
Robinette’s groin twitched. He ignored it. Mostly. ‘Where did you meet Henderson?’
‘At the Key Hotel.’
It was the same hotel Westmoreland reported. There was no lie here. No duplicity. Therefore, no need to install cameras in Fletcher’s office after all. Still, he needed to be certain.
He motioned for Fletcher to come around his desk, hitting another discreetly placed button to lock his office door. Fletcher obeyed, dropping to kneel between Robinette’s thighs.
‘I hated knowing you were with Lisa last night,’ Fletch whispered.
Robinette watched those capable hands ease his zipper down, all the while studying his chemist’s eyes. He saw discomfort and regret and guilt. Understandable and all in total sync with Fletcher’s character.
‘I know. But Lisa’s temporary, a means to an end. You and I will go on long after she’s just a memory.’ Then he closed his eyes and let Fletcher . . . attend to his needs.
When they’d finished, he gripped Fletcher’s chin between his fingers. ‘Have you heard from Henderson since you left the hotel last night?’
Fletcher’s eyes flickered, so minutely Robinette almost missed it. ‘No. I didn’t have any antibiotics in my kit, but I left a few painkillers from my last dental surgery. I’d be surprised if Henderson is awake enough to call anyone.’
‘All right. If you’re contacted again—’
‘I know. I’ll tell you immediately.’ Fletcher rose. ‘I’ll be down in the lab if you need me.’
Robinette released the lock, his eyes focused on the door after Fletcher left. Fletcher had lied. He’d seen it in that tiny flicker. There had been additional contact between the two. And if a person lied about one thing, it was extremely likely they’d lied about others.
He picked up the phone, dialed his IT guy and ordered a camera to be installed in Dr Fletcher’s office before this day became night. Then he called Westmoreland.
‘Where are you?’ Robinette demanded.
‘About fifteen minutes from Maynard’s house.’
‘I want updates every hour.’ Starting now, he’d be keeping a tighter leash on his operatives.
‘Okay,’ Westmoreland said uncertainly. ‘Why?’
‘Just do it.’ Robinette hung up and stared straight ahead. At nothing at all.
Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 10.05 A.M.
This, Clay thought, was going far better than he had anticipated. He’d been watching Stevie eat breakfast with her daughter, not able to stop thinking about the look of unguarded desire in her eyes as she’d looked up at him in that moment before sleep had claimed her.
He’d been wondering how he’d get her alone so he could try to achieve that same look now that she was awake. Unless she wasn’t thinking about me.
Second best. You’d always be second best.
Clay shoved the doubt away before it could take root. He’d stick to the plan. Protect her until the scum that would harm her were culled. Until she was herself again. Until the loss of her husband was no longer the first thing she thought of when she thought about them together. And she did think about them together. He’d stake his life on it.
For now, he had her totally alone.
‘This space is surprisingly large,’ Stevie said, turning a three-sixty in the middle of the boat’s cabin. ‘And surprisingly steady.’
Clay rolled the suitcase filled with reports to the small table next to the galley. ‘The bay’s calm today. Yesterday would have been rougher.’
‘Then I’m glad it’s not yesterday. For a lot of reasons. Whose boat is this?’
‘Dad and I own the Fiji together. He got it after Mom passed. He needed something to do and he’d always loved to fish. He has fun with his clients, supplements his pension, and I know he’s socially engaged and not sitting out here alone, pining for her. At first I was afraid I’d lose him, too. He was such a wreck without her. You always hear about spouses that just check out after the other one—’ Hell. Way to go, Mr Chatty. He could have sliced off his own tongue.
She looked over her shoulder, no smile on her face. ‘After the other one dies?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’
‘That’s okay. I know my family and friends worried that I might do exactly that. I might have if I hadn’t had Cordelia.’ She looked around again, her eyes everywhere but on him. ‘This is good of you, Clay. To care so much about keeping your dad happy. Izzy, Sorin, and I should figure out some activities for my dad. He retired recently and just makes my mom crazy.’
‘I like your parents. They were very kind to me when I visited you in December.’
‘They like you too,’ she said ruefully. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I got a ration of shit from my family over what I said to you in the hospital that day.’
‘It does mak
e me feel better actually,’ he said and she laughed. Just a little laugh, but it made him feel ten feet tall and bullet-proof.
‘Glad to oblige.’ She slid onto the bench seat and took out her laptop. ‘Can you get me Silas’s report that mentions Kersey? I want to find Kersey’s report on that burglary in the department’s database. He would have had to close his case, even just to say he’d passed it on to Homicide. Also, do you have a landline on this boat?’
It had been a nice few minutes there, talking to her. Intimate, almost. But she’d shifted gears and it was clearly time to work. Clay put the report and the telephone on the table, then slid onto the bench across from her. ‘The phone line runs from the house. Who do you want to call?’
‘JD. I want to know if Rossi’s conscious and if he’s talking. He might give up his source and none of this would be necessary.’
‘I talked to JD right before you woke up. Rossi was still unconscious. He’ll call when Rossi wakes up. Although he didn’t seem too optimistic about Rossi giving up anything. His last words to JD before losing consciousness last night were, “Burn in hell, motherfucker.”’
‘Rossi killed a cop,’ Stevie said flatly, pushing the phone aside. ‘I don’t think he’ll find a jury going easy on him. He’ll talk eventually. I’d like to be around to hear him, though. If he waits too long, I’ll have to come out of hiding. Sooner or later one of them will get lucky.’
Clay’s skin tightened on his bones. ‘Don’t even think that.’
She kept her eyes on the report. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I just keep imagining Rossi shooting up that hotel bed, believing Cordelia was in it.’
He gripped her wrist, waiting until she looked at him before releasing his hold. ‘We have her, Stevie. She’s safe. If you lose it, so will she.’
‘I know.’ She blew out a breath, ran her finger down the typed page. ‘Okay. On November 12, seven years ago, the Gardners’ home was broken into. The thieves got jewelry and a gun collection. No evidence of forced entry. Tracy, their daughter, had forgotten to lock the door when she went to class at the university. She found the mess when she returned home.
‘Silas says Kersey “and partner” canvassed the neighbors but got no leads. Then the next day, Mrs Gardner came home from work to find the back door open and Tracy’s body on the kitchen floor. She’d been stabbed with a butcher knife. One was missing from the drawer.’
She sighed. ‘The autopsy showed she’d been raped, asphyxiated, then stabbed. Silas questioned the neighbors again, then got a lead from some kids playing basketball a block away. They’d seen a “homeless-looking guy” lurking. Silas tracked him down, found the knife and one of the stolen pistols in the man’s backpack. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia.’
‘Did Silas get a confession?’
‘Of sorts. “At first the suspect denied the charges, but once court-ordered medication had taken effect, he was horrified to learn of his actions and confessed,”’ she read.
‘What happened to the man? Can you check the court records?’
Stevie typed in the search. ‘Richard Steel was sentenced to a medium-security prison where he’s forced to take his meds. This case isn’t on Lippman’s list. Neither are Kersey or Rossi.’
‘Why do you think Lippman included some of his operatives but not others?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Maybe Lippman was lazy and didn’t bother to add everyone he hired. Maybe just the threat of the list was enough to keep his employees in line. Maybe he liked some of the cops better than others. Maybe Rossi knows why.’ She put Silas’s report aside and typed some more. ‘I want to see what Kersey put in his own report.’ A few minutes later she sat back, met Clay’s gaze. ‘Kersey notes that Tracy Gardner had claimed to go to class the day of the burglary, but he touched the hood of her car as he left and it was ice cold.’
‘Interesting thing to have done, touching the daughter’s car. Sounds like he didn’t believe her story from the get-go.’
‘I agree. Maybe because none of her stuff was stolen. There’s no follow-up noted except that Tracy’s body was found the next day and the case was handed off to Homicide.’
Clay’s phone buzzed and he checked the incoming text. ‘Kersey’s most likely not Hyatt’s leak. He retired five years ago. Lives in Scottsdale, Arizona.’
Her brows bunched. ‘How do you know that?’
He held his phone so that she could see the screen. ‘Alec texted me. And don’t ask how he knows. You probably don’t want to know.’
‘Your assistant’s a hacker, too?’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say hacker. But he’s damn clever.’
Her lips twitched. ‘This is the kid whose godfather is your best friend from the Marine Corps? Your first PI partner, right? The one who’s a “white hat”, AKA “hacker”?’
That she remembered pleased him more than it probably should have. ‘Alec may have picked up a trick or two from Ethan. But “hacker” is such a harsh word, don’t you think?’ he asked mildly and she grinned, lighting up her face and stealing his breath.
‘I won’t tell,’ she said, but then her grin faded. ‘We can cross Kersey off the dirty cop list. The active list anyway. No telling if he had any involvement in framing Richard Steel for this murder seven years ago, assuming that’s what Silas and Rossi did. I need to pass this one off to IA and keep looking for anyone Rossi might have partnered with in the past, who could have leaked the safe house information to him yesterday. Cordelia and I are being targeted now.’
But he could see the notion didn’t sit right with her. If IA was somehow tainted, this case might not ever be resolved, assuming this was one of Silas’s frame jobs. At a minimum, with the rate IA was investigating, this case would fall to the end of a very long line. It could be months or even years before justice was done.
‘It’ll only take a few minutes to call Kersey,’ Clay said softly. ‘Maybe you can right a wrong. At least you’ll know. Then we can get back to our search.’
She went still. ‘Everybody else keeps telling me to let it go. To stop investigating. To leave it alone, but I can’t. You get it.’ She hesitated, then added in a reluctant whisper, ‘You get me.’
‘I like to think so.’ He made himself smile lightly even though his heart was pounding in his chest. ‘That’s what I keep trying to tell you.’
‘I’ll look up Kersey’s—’ She halted when he showed her Alec’s next text. ‘You already have the contact info. Of course you do.’ She picked up the phone and dialed, engaging the speaker so that he could hear, too. ‘Hello, can I speak with Detective Kersey?’
‘He’s not taking calls at this time,’ a female voice said firmly.
‘Oh. Are you Mrs Kersey? Can you give him a message?’
‘I am and I can.’
‘This is Detective Mazzetti, Baltimore Homicide. I wanted to ask him about an old—’
‘Wait. He wants to know if you can Skype him. He wants to see who he’s talking to.’
Stevie looked taken aback. ‘Sure. I think. I have to figure out how.’
‘I can show you,’ Clay said and had the pleasure of seeing her smile again, this time ruefully.
‘Of course you can,’ she murmured. ‘Mrs Kersey, we’ll call right back.’
‘He’ll be waiting.’
Chapter Eleven
Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 10.30 A.M.
‘You just click the Skype icon here,’ Clay said, reaching over her shoulder to tap her laptop’s track pad. He’d moved, now standing behind her, so close she could feel his warmth.
She hadn’t realized how cold she’d been.
Or how good he smelled. Which shouldn’t matter. But it did. Because as much as she wanted to do the right thing and not hurt him, she wanted so much to lean into him. To press her cheek into the har
d strength of his arm.
How long had it been since she’d felt a man’s arms around her? Since she’d simply been held? The answer was like a thunderbolt in her mind. Last night. Clay had held her last night, letting her cry. Demanding nothing in return. Suddenly she wished he would.
If only to balance the scales. Yeah. That was it. It wasn’t because he smelled good or made her want things she had no business wanting. It was because she didn’t like being beholden to anyone and Clay was racking up the IOUs at an alarming rate.
You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, honey. The thing was, it didn’t.
Oh, God. This is not going to end well.
She chanced her voice, grateful when it came out even. ‘I never took you for a geek.’
‘That’s because I’m not. Computers give me hives.’
He hovered over her, close enough to touch, but far enough away that it couldn’t be accidental. Wily bastard. She had to hand it to him, though. His approach was working.
‘After seeing your setup in the boathouse, I find that hard to believe,’ she said wryly.
‘The security equipment I can handle because it makes sense, but stuff like Facebook and Skype?’ He sounded mildly horrified, making her smile.
‘Not your thing, huh?’
‘No. Alyssa set my computer up and taught me how to use my cell phone. She and Alec are trying to drag me into the twenty-first century,’ he added with a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘Okay. Now you’re connecting. You’ll see Detective Kersey as soon as he answers. He’ll see your face, but nothing below here.’ He tapped her chest, several inches above her breasts. Still, her skin tingled at the brief contact. ‘I’ll get out of the picture.’
He moved, but still stood what would have been far too close mere hours before.
He knows exactly what he’s doing. But she couldn’t make herself mind. She wasn’t even sure she could focus on the call, but when the picture connected she was stunned into attention.
Kersey sat in a wheelchair with a head support. He was emaciated, his facial bones jutting from his skin. But his eyes were crystal clear and sharp. His wife stood at his elbow, adjusting a microphone close to his mouth.