Watch Your Back

by Rose, Karen

  Clay’s throat closed. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered hoarsely.

  ‘It’s a fact. But you’re welcome anyway.’ She pressed her cheek against his chest. ‘God, my head hurts.’

  ‘I know, honey.’ He cradled her head in his hands, pressing his thumbs into her temples. He released the pressure and was gratified to hear her sigh. ‘Better?’

  ‘A little.’ She was quiet then for several minutes. Then she finally said, ‘You asked me why I don’t talk about my son. I . . . can’t. It still hurts too much. It’s been eight years and it might as well have been yesterday.’ She brushed at the puddle her tears had formed on his chest. ‘I gave away some of his clothes, but left his room the way it was. I knew I should have turned it into an office or something, but every time I started to, I’d get these panic attacks.’

  ‘You don’t have to do anything with it. You grieve on your own schedule. I’m sure Emma told you that.’

  ‘She did. But I was still . . . ashamed, I guess. Here I was, running grief groups with the cops and I couldn’t manage to deal with my own loss. I’m a hypocrite.’

  ‘No, honey, just human. Maybe running the groups helped keep the grief at arm’s length.’

  ‘It did. We mostly talked about the loss of fellow cops. Of spouses. Kids, not so often.’

  ‘Because it was as hard for them as it was for you.’

  ‘You make it sound so sensible.’

  ‘It is. You’re no hypocrite, Stevie. You’re just a woman who was dealt a really shitty hand. You get to cope with it however you choose. If you decide to talk about him again, I’m here.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He held her then, saying no more, just stroking her back, her hair. Massaging her scalp until he felt some of the tension leave her body. Finally, she slept.

  Clay slid out from under her carefully, covering her with the blanket. Standing next to the bed, watching her breathe. She looked so young, he thought. He wondered what she would have been like before her world had been shattered. But then their paths wouldn’t have crossed and they wouldn’t have ended up here. He could never be grateful that her family had been so cruelly stolen. But he could spend the rest of his life making her happy.

  In the end, that was all anyone could do.

  He checked his phone for the time. It was getting late. If Stevie’s shooter was going to take the bait, it would either be when there were lots of people around in the hotel, or nearly none. They were past the time for lots. In another hour or two, there would be nearly none.

  He pulled on jeans and a shirt, making sure he was buttoned and zipped, his hair combed, before lightly knocking on the adjoining door.

  Joseph appeared, his brows lifting. ‘You okay? Where’s Stevie?’

  ‘Asleep,’ he said quietly.

  Joseph frowned, studying him. ‘Just asleep?’

  ‘Yeah. What more should there be?’

  Joseph shrugged and stepped aside, gesturing Clay into the other room. The aroma of pizza hit him hard and his stomach growled.

  ‘Damn. I forgot to eat dinner.’

  ‘I bought extra. Help yourself.’ Joseph sat down at the table, his laptop open. ‘I’m hooked into the hotel’s security system. I can see the elevators, the hallways, and the stairwells of every floor. Novak and Coppola are also watching. If somebody comes close to Stevie, we’ll see him. Keep your phone on and with you. We’ll text you.’

  Clay loaded a plate with half of Joseph’s pizza, inhaled it, then leaned back in his chair. ‘I hope at least one of these guys shows. Do you have agents in the laundry area? If I planned to sneak in, getting a uniform would be my first priority.’

  ‘We have undercover agents in the laundry, housekeeping, and room service. If our targets try to steal uniforms, we’ll let them. If they get violent, my agents have orders to take them down. Above all else, we have to keep the employees and guests safe but our base plan is to let them get into your room. If we stop them downstairs and we find no hard evidence connecting them to the murders, they could claim they simply planned to burgle. We want to get them for six homicides and five attempts on Stevie’s life.’

  ‘Damn straight,’ Clay growled. ‘What about the Sequoia and the Tahoe? Have they been spotted anywhere else?’

  ‘The Sequoia the first intruder drove away from your place is in the wind. Same with the Tahoe. We’ve had BOLOs out on both of them since yesterday. Since the shooting at the dock this morning, we’ve been searching the toll plaza cameras on the interstate, at the border crossings, and at airport lots. Nothing so far. Descriptions of the cars and general physical characteristics of the intruders have been posted to state, local, and federal law enforcement Facebook and Twitter accounts. We’ve got the phones staffed in case a citizen recognizes them. Now we have to wait for one or both of them to make another move.’

  ‘I hope they make it soon. I really want this to be over.’ Clay frowned because Joseph was studying him again. ‘What? Do I have pizza sauce on my shirt?’

  Joseph looked a little uncomfortable. ‘No.’

  ‘Then why are you staring at me?’

  The Fed lifted both hands, palms out. ‘Hey, I’m just following orders.’

  ‘From?’

  ‘Daphne, Paige, Emma, and Maggie VanDorn.’

  Clay’s eyes narrowed. ‘What orders?’

  ‘To see if anything’s happened between you and Stevie. The women figure that with the two of you trapped in a hotel room, something’s gonna give. So can I tell them something happened so they get off my back?’

  Clay felt his neck heat and knew the blush was crawling up his face. ‘You’re kidding me.’

  Joseph grinned. ‘Afraid not. But at least now I can give a positive report.’ His smile faded, his eyes growing serious. ‘It’s all good. Right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Clay mumbled. ‘Very good.’ He dragged his hands down his face. ‘At least there was no betting pool.’

  ‘Of course there was.’ Joseph checked his phone again. ‘Based on the latest email, it looks like it’s a three-way photo finish between Ethan, Paige, and . . . oh.’ He smiled. ‘My sister Holly, too. You and Stevie will have to tell them who got closest to the actual time.’

  Clay wanted to be annoyed, but found himself laughing. ‘You guys are crazy.’

  ‘Nah. Just tired of watching the two of you dancing around each other. I sent you the link and password to the hotel’s camera system. You can watch it from your own room if you want to. And take what’s left of the pizza. I’m sure Stevie’s worked up an appetite.’

  Clay thought about her crying in his arms. ‘Maybe not. She told me about her son. About the day he and Paul were killed. It ripped her up.’

  Joseph’s eyes filled with sympathy. ‘I didn’t know her then, but Grayson tells me it was one of the worst things he’s ever been through. That their killer is behind bars doesn’t bring the satisfaction everyone thinks it does.’

  ‘No. It doesn’t.’

  Monday, March 17, 9.30 P.M.

  Robinette stared at his computer screen on his desk in satisfaction. He’d been tired after not having slept in more than a day, his brain temporarily numbed by the dinner with the city planner Brenda Lee had scheduled him to schmooze, but he’d been re-energized, his blood humming.

  He thought at first he’d misread the path Henderson’s phone had taken Saturday afternoon, but after checking the address and the property owner, Robinette knew he’d just hit pay dirt.

  Having started at Mazzetti’s home on Saturday, Henderson had driven to Hunt Valley, to a farm owned by Daphne Montgomery, assistant state’s attorney and friend to Mazzetti.

  Montgomery’s fiancé was FBI Special Agent Joseph Carter. Before taking up with Carter, Daphne Montgomery had often been seen on the arm of none other than Clay Maynard.

&nb
sp; So all the pieces pointed to this being a perfect hiding place for Mazzetti’s child.

  After driving to Hunt Valley, Henderson had driven back to the city, to Harbor House. Then, after the botched restaurant job, back to Hunt Valley. Several hours later, Henderson took a circuitous route that ended with the botched drive-by job in front of Mazzetti’s house.

  So . . . If the child had been at Daphne Montgomery’s farm on Saturday, it was possible they’d stashed her there again. He needed to be careful. If she was there, she’d be well guarded. If Mazzetti had joined her there, there would be even higher security.

  The good news was, the cops were looking for either a Sequoia or a Tahoe and he’d be driving neither. Henderson wasn’t the only one with hot-wiring skills.

  On his way to dinner, Robinette had spotted a Jeep even older than the Tahoe parked in a supermarket’s parking lot. On his way back, the Jeep had still been there, so he’d parked his own car several blocks away, walking to the supermarket. The Jeep was now parked far enough from the factory that it wouldn’t be obvious, but close enough that he could walk to it.

  Which he’d do, now that he knew where he was going.

  What he wasn’t so sure of was what he’d do when he got there. He wasn’t planning to get caught and no longer had any employees he could trust enough to be his canary in the coal mine.

  Excepting Brenda Lee, of course, but he couldn’t send her into hostile territory.

  Then he smiled. He knew exactly how he’d test security around the farm and occupancy therein. If he was right, he’d gain valuable intel. If he was wrong, he’d have a midnight snack.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Bladensburg, Maryland, Monday, March 17, 9.35 P.M.

  Kayla Richards’s hands trembled as she poured Sam and Ruby cups of coffee. ‘I was twenty-one years old that night, a single mom, drug addict, and terrified. It doesn’t excuse what I did. I’ve been clean for five years. It took having social services take my daughter away to wake me up. I went to NA, did the twelve steps. Made amends to everyone I’d hurt with my addiction. But I didn’t know who you were, so I couldn’t make amends to you. I’ll start tonight and then you can decide what my consequence will be.’

  ‘I think I should tell you,’ Sam said quietly, ignoring Ruby’s warning frown. ‘I am a police officer. I’m not here in an official capacity, but I or another cop could be later.’

  Kayla gasped. Her hands shaking violently, she set her cup on the table, grabbing a napkin to clean up the coffee she’d spilled. ‘Were you a cop then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She gave a little moan, then appeared to pull herself together. ‘All right,’ she said, folding her hands in her lap. ‘You ordered a beer that night, and I served it. I didn’t know when I gave it to you that it was spiked. But I did know after you passed out, which wasn’t more than fifteen minutes later. I started to call 911, but the bartender grabbed my arm. He said if I made the call, I’d lose my job. I had a hard time getting that job, because I had a previous record. But I started to call again anyway. And then he threatened my daughter.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Sam asked, steel in his tone. Threats against the innocent pissed him off.

  ‘He said that crib death was “so sad”. That mothers put their babies in their cribs and . . . poof! They wake to find their babies dead. Wouldn’t it be sad if that happened to my little girl?’

  Poor thing, Sam thought. She’d been between a rock and a hard place and she’d protected her child. ‘So you knew I’d been drugged, but you didn’t drug me. You just didn’t get me help.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry. Um, if you have to arrest me, will you give me a few hours to find someone to take care of my daughter? I have friends now who I can trust. I can call them. That way social services won’t take her again. I couldn’t stand not knowing where she was.’

  ‘Social services will place your daughter in foster care,’ Ruby said, more sharply than Sam thought she needed to. ‘Unless you have family in the area.’

  The color drained from Kayla’s face. ‘I don’t have family, but I have appointed legal guardians for my daughter should I become ill.’ Her chin lifted slightly. ‘I have HIV. Right now I’m stable, but that could change. My daughter’s care is the most important thing to me. So if you’ll allow me to make some arrangements first, I’ll turn myself in.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Sam said. ‘Technically, you didn’t break a law.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I didn’t?’

  ‘No. If the police had contacted you and you’d lied about it, then you would have broken the law. If I’d been a child and you a teacher or health care professional, you would have broken the law. Not reporting this crime wasn’t a crime.’

  Kayla’s head fell back as she caught her breath. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Not a statutory crime. Just a moral one,’ Ruby muttered.

  ‘Ruby,’ Sam murmured.

  ‘Sam,’ she murmured back. ‘You’re too tenderhearted for your own good.’

  ‘You believe her, too.’

  Kayla looked at Sam, then at Ruby, hope evident on her face.

  ‘I know,’ Ruby said, rolling her eyes. ‘Damn my heart, too.’

  Sam squeezed Ruby’s hand. ‘It’s a good heart.’

  She made a grumbling sound, but looked pleased. ‘Will you let me do the talking now?’

  ‘Knock yourself out, honey.’

  Ruby cleared her throat. ‘Miss Richards, are you all right now?’ she asked crisply.

  Kayla’s color was better, her eyes less wide and frightened. ‘Yes, thank you. I’ve felt so guilty for so long. I watched the news for days after that, looking to see if you got reported missing or were found dead. If that had happened, I would have called the police anonymously. But I never saw your face again, until tonight.’

  And doesn’t that story sound familiar? Sam thought ironically.

  Ruby must have been thinking the same because the edge in her voice softened. ‘What happened after Officer Hudson was drugged?’ she asked.

  ‘The bartender told me to take the rest of the night off. So I did. But I was driving out of the lot when I saw you being dragged out. You looked drunk, but I knew you’d only had one beer and you were sober as a judge when you’d arrived.’

  ‘Who dragged Officer Hudson out?’

  ‘A big guy. He was about fifty, maybe mid-forties. Bulky, like he’d played football. Dark hair, but really short, like a military buzz cut. He had an ordinary face. He was maybe six-two and two hundred pounds or so. I can describe him to a police artist if that will help.’

  ‘It will,’ Ruby said. ‘Sam, can you line that up?’

  ‘Yes. I have a friend who’s a sketch artist. Would you be able to come in tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, my boss will be okay with that. He’s a good guy. How long do you think it will take?’

  ‘A few hours,’ Sam said. ‘Give me your phone number and I’ll call you when I have it set up. There’s usually a waiting list for artists.’

  Kayla quickly wrote down several phone numbers, then added a name. ‘This is the name of the bartender. Ricky Trenovi. He helped the big guy carry you out. Ricky’s in prison now, for assault on someone else.’

  Sam took the paper she offered. ‘Consider your amends to me as having been made.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kayla squeezed his hand hard. ‘Thank you so much.’

  Sam waited until he and Ruby were alone in his car to speak. ‘I’m going to the prison to talk to the bartender. I’ve got some vacation time coming, so I’ll just take a day off. Hopefully my artist friend has some time in his schedule tomorrow and I can juggle the two.’

  ‘Make it three,’ she said, checking her phone. ‘My contact in the news studio has pulled all of the footage we asked for. He can meet us at the
studio in the morning. Nine A.M.’

  ‘Us?’

  She nodded, one brow lifted. ‘I have some vacation time coming, too. If you think I’m going to bail now, just when this puzzle’s getting interesting, you’ve got another think coming.’

  She might say she was in it for the puzzle, but Sam thought she just might be in it for him, too. ‘I can pick you up early, take you to breakfast.’

  She smiled. ‘I’d like that.’

  Hunt Valley, Maryland, Monday, March 17, 10.45 P.M.

  Yawning, Emma walked into Maggie VanDorn’s kitchen to find Maggie, Alec, Paige, and Daphne sitting at the table with Ethan Buchanan.

  Ethan and Alec were focused on their laptop screens. The women were cleaning guns. The table was full of weapons – rifles, shotguns, pistols, revolvers. On one end of the table was a stack of bullet-proof vests – six adult-sized and one child-sized. Many of the guns came from Clay’s extensive collection of personal weapons, which hadn’t surprised her in the least. She had, however, been surprised to find that Maggie had a collection almost as extensive. It had belonged to her late husband, but she was a crack shot. Maybe even better than Paige.

  This Emma knew because the first thing Ethan had done on his arrival that afternoon was take all of them out to an unoccupied pasture to fire test shots. Of all of them, Daphne was the least skilled, a fact that had annoyed the prosecutor. By dinner time, she hit the target every time. Emma had been impressed with Daphne’s determination as well as Ethan’s patience.

  Clay had good friends and they were completely loyal to him. Emma wished Stevie would wise up before Clay became so discouraged that he gave up.

  ‘Cordelia’s finally asleep,’ Emma announced to the group.

  All eyes glanced up, then lips began to twitch.

  ‘Looks like you dozed off, too,’ Paige said. She pointed to her own head. ‘Bed head.’