Traceless

by Debra Webb

  Before permitting it to completely close and latch, she asked, “Will we be able to get back in here?” She had to assume those sensor things he worried about were on all the doors leading outside the building. Going back out the window seemed logical.

  The illumination from the flashlight provided enough of a glow without her having to aim it at his face for her to see him grin, one of those handsome, lopsided dazzlers she remembered from before … way before. Her heart reacted.

  “You let me worry about that.”

  She moved away from the door, and the latch clicked into the locked position. He took the flashlight and started moving from door to door, reading the signs posted on each. When they’d reached the end of the main corridor, he took the shorter one to the right, the only other way to go. This section would lead to the bottom of the stairs that ascended to the first ground-level floor. She stayed right behind him, but she couldn’t resist constantly glancing over her shoulder. If the police found her car … would they figure out what she and Clint were up to?

  “ … has to be it.”

  She dragged her full attention back to Clint. The sign on the door read: Authorized Personnel Only. She had to agree. If the files were here, this was the most likely place.

  “What now?”

  He gave the flashlight back to her. “Hold it right there.” He directed the beam on the doorknob.

  She held the light steady while he retrieved a new set of tools from the duffel’s exterior zipper compartment. These looked like the pointy instruments a dentist might use when cleaning and prodding at teeth. Clint crouched in front of the door. Using both hands, an instrument in each, he worked on the lock until something clicked.

  He twisted the knob and the door opened. Incredible.

  “You’re pretty good, Austin.”

  He dropped the tools back in the bag and straightened next to her. “I hope you’re referring to our other joint venture in addition to this one.”

  Heat flushed her face. She had started to tell him she’d have to think about that one when a sound echoed from somewhere in the main corridor. The succession of clicks and creaks that followed was unmistakable. Someone had unlocked the main exterior door on this level and opened it. A sequence of beeps warned that the security system had been disarmed.

  Had to be the police.

  Clint would go back to prison. This was a major violation of his parole. Not one of the dinky ones.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  She clicked off the light and grabbed the duffel he’d left on the floor next to the door. They stood so close together she could feel the tension roiling through his body. She grabbed his shirtfront with her free hand and pulled his face close to hers, then whispered, “Get in there and make sure the door locks behind you. Once we’re gone, you get the file and get out of here. Try chronological order first, then alphabetical.”

  “No way I’m letting you take the rap for this.”

  “Do it,” she urged. “How can we find the real killer if you’re in prison?”

  Three breath-stealing beats passed before he relented. He slipped inside the room he’d just unlocked. The barely audible rasp of leather soles on the tile floor was closer now. What should she do?

  Then she knew. She dropped to her knees in front of the door behind which Clint had disappeared, turned on the flashlight, and retrieved the tools he’d been using to unlock it. She pretended to be hard at work even as the steps moved into the side corridor directly behind her.

  Not looking back was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. A bright beam of light suddenly illuminated her position.

  “Emily?”

  Ray Hale.

  She experienced some amount of relief that it wasn’t a cop she didn’t know. She jerked around, adopted a startled expression.

  “What the hell are you doing, Emily?”

  He moved nearer.

  Suddenly going mute, she found herself holding her breath.

  “Where’s Clint?”

  The tools in her hands clattered to the floor as she stood. Her fingers tightened into fists to hide their trembling. “Why would Clint be with me? This is something I have to do. Heather was my best friend.”

  Enough illumination lit Ray’s face for her to see the skepticism. “You expect me to believe you broke into this courthouse all on your own?”

  She thought of all the reasons she had to be angry and she unleashed that emotion on him … the way she’d wanted to the last time she’d talked to him.

  “You know damn well he didn’t do it.” She made the statement as much accusation as argument. “I want to know who killed her, Ray. If it means I have to break in here and get those files you told Clint were stored here, I’m prepared to do that.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I’m telling you he’s not here. If I’d told him about my plan he would’ve tried to stop me.”

  Ray turned all the way around, running the beam of his light over the corridor again.

  She held her hands up surrender style. “Take your time; check every room if you want. He’s not here. It’s just me. He’d be pretty stupid to do something like this and end up back in prison.”

  Ray still didn’t look convinced. He walked straight up to her, causing her breath to catch yet again, and tried the door behind her. The one leading to the room marked: Authorized Personnel Only. She didn’t breathe again until he released the knob and stepped back.

  “You know I have to take you in, Emily.”

  He said this with enough regret for her to believe he might even be sincere.

  “Do what you have to do, Ray. I believe in what I’m doing.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  She stiffened, suddenly scared to death he wouldn’t believe she’d gotten this far alone. Though she hadn’t put anything in his “Negatives” column, who was to say he wasn’t Heather’s killer? That theory had fear creeping up her spine.

  “Really sure,” he added, “that he’s innocent? I know your father confirmed his alibi, but you were so adamant in that courtroom.”

  A burst of anger chased away the thread of fear. She had been adamant in that courtroom … that was true. But now she knew better.

  Clint Austin was innocent.

  Why didn’t his only ally believe that? He’d believed it before, hadn’t he? Or had he only felt sorry for Clint? Either way, that seemed to suggest Ray wasn’t a suspect.

  “Let’s go, Emily.”

  She relaxed. Apparently he believed she’d gotten in here alone. He gathered the tools she had dropped and picked up the duffel bag. She hoped there was nothing in there that would indicate it belonged to Clint.

  Ray escorted her to the nearest exit.

  “I’ll pay for the window I damaged in the property assessment room.”

  When they got outside, he said, “Just to set my mind at ease, why don’t you show me how you got in?”

  She led him to the window and explained the process. “I used to watch reruns of MacGyver.” That wasn’t a total lie. She’d seen a few rerun episodes. Her father had liked the show.

  “This isn’t a game, Emily.”

  “Yes, it is,” she countered. “And whoever is making the rules doesn’t want to be caught.” The next question came out before good sense could stall it. “You’re not making the rules, are you, Ray?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  City Hall 10:35 A.M.

  He was going to miss lunch with his wife. He’d been remote so much of the time lately, he hated to let her down even for something as simple as lunch. There was no help for it. What he had to take care of wouldn’t wait. Ray could only hope that Sarah would understand … eventually.

  Before he left City Hall, he double-timed it up to the second floor to see to a minor bother. He’d left Emily Wallace in the holding cell for the last eight hours in hopes that the solitude and apprehension as to what would happen next might just jolt a little sense into her. She had to stop
digging into the past before things got any worse. Her involvement would only give Clint additional motivation for pursuing his quest.

  Ray had ordered her car picked up and brought to City Hall. No need to have it impounded. Emily sat up a little straighter as he approached the holding cell. The uncertainty in her eyes told him she wasn’t feeling nearly as brave as she wanted him to believe. He’d checked on her a couple of times; once she’d even fallen asleep sitting on that hard bench. He hated like hell to do this to her, but he couldn’t have folks breaking and entering county-owned property without repercussions. She needed to understand that she’d gone too far. He’d anticipated that move, but he needed it to end now. For her sake and for Clint’s.

  Ray unlocked the cell and opened the door. “You can pick up your things at the duty desk. You’re free to go for now.”

  She pushed up from the bench spanning the length and width of the eight-by-twelve cell. “Why?”

  Despite the unpleasant task that still lay ahead of him, he chuckled. Emily Wallace, no matter the atrocities life had thrown her way, was still far too naïve and kind for her own good. “Most folks don’t ask why when given the opportunity to walk away scot-free.”

  Her gaze narrowed the tiniest bit with doubt. “O … kay.”

  Ray exhaled, the fatigue clawing at him. He hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. He didn’t have any idea when he’d last eaten. He was tired. Mostly he was sick to death of lies and secrets and … murder. Hell, he was as sick of the truth as he was of the deceptions and betrayal.

  Emily glanced around as if she expected someone to jump out and tell her she’d just been punked. When she’d satisfied her misgivings, she stepped out of the holding cell.

  “Thank you.” She met his gaze, uncertainty still holding her own hostage. “Am I being charged with anything?”

  Ray shook his head. “I will send you the bill for repairing that window, though.”

  Hesitation slowed her, just long enough for him to recognize that there was more she wanted to say. But she didn’t. She walked away.

  “Just one thing,” he said, instantly kicking himself for slowing her retreat. Anything else in the way of advice he offered would be too much, and yet he couldn’t not warn her. When she turned back to him, he urged, “You need to be extremely careful how you proceed from here, Emily. The truth isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”

  She had nothing to say to that. Her spine rigid, she pivoted on her heel and strode to the duty desk. He wished he could make her see that things weren’t what they seemed.

  He’d learned that the hard way.

  11:00 A.M.

  She followed him from City Hall.

  Maybe he was the one making her upset.

  Misty was tired of these men having so much power. Tired. Tried. Tired.

  She should have done something more about it a long time ago. But she’d thought it was over. Men were the trouble in this world. They made women feel afraid and vulnerable. They cheated on the women they were supposed to love. Started wars. All kinds of atrocities. And they thought they were better at everything.

  Not so. She was the one to graduate with the highest honors in high school and from the University of Alabama. None of her male peers had been as brilliant as her. She could have been an engineer. She could have been a great scientist. But she’d chosen teaching to be close to her dearest friend.

  Some women’s beauty made them vulnerable to men. They got hurt. Taken for granted.

  Well, Misty was tired of watching it happen. She was tired of feeling impotent.

  Hale Family Hunting Cabin

  11:24 A.M.

  Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d come up here to hunt. Not since his daddy had died eight years ago. Ray never had cared that much for hunting, but his daddy had loved the sport. Though he had considered hunting a definite sport, Ray’s old man never targeted anything he didn’t intend to eat. Raymond Hale, Sr. had insisted it was the only right way to do it.

  Ray had come to this secluded place since then, recently, in fact. But the visit had nothing to do with hunting. He had met her here, in this cabin that his daddy and granddaddy had built half a century before, to discuss the possibility of Clint Austin’s parole. She’d been adamant that Ray had to do something to stop the process.

  A smile nudged the corners of his mouth upward. He’d reveled in telling her that it was too late. Way too late. She’d just have to deal with it.

  In fact, Ray had worked extra hard to ensure Clint was granted parole partly to make her life miserable. But mostly he’d done it because it was the right thing to do.

  Austin had paid enough … more than enough.

  Ray had hoped that being supportive of Clint and fighting for his freedom would relieve some of the guilt he felt, but it hadn’t.

  Not even a little bit.

  He stared past the buildup of new dust and old pollen on the window, some part of him appreciating the gorgeous view he’d taken for granted so many times. There wasn’t a better view to be found than from this cabin resting on the shoulders of the Cumberland Mountains, overlooking the verdant valley and the small, industrious town of Pine Bluff. He and his family should take the time to enjoy it more often.

  If he and Sarah got past this standoff.

  His wife thought he was getting too involved in Clint’s problems. She didn’t understand. There were things she didn’t know. If Ray had his way, she would never know.

  “Well, isn’t this just like old times?”

  Ray wheeled around to face her, fury instantly clenching in his gut.

  “I’ve questioned Troy.” He went straight to the point, ignored her stupid question. “He denies having anything to do with the fire.”

  She flicked him her usual how-dare-you glance. “And you would be telling me this for what reason?”

  The move was so fast … so unexpected that it startled even him. He was in her face, glaring down at her feigned look of wide-eyed innocence. “Don’t even fucking act like you don’t know why.”

  “Are you threatening me, Chief?”

  He wanted to kill her. The realization hit him so hard and furiously that he shook with the impact of it. It was the first time he’d allowed the thought to fully form in his brain. The devil himself couldn’t possibly be more evil than she. She should have been the one to get murdered instead of Keith.

  “Yes,” Ray said frankly, with all the menace he had harbored for more than a decade. “I am threatening you.”

  She smiled, a purr of pure satisfaction passing over those vile red lips. “That’s what I thought.”

  She had the nerve to flatten her palms against his chest and glide them up to his shoulders. He stiffened with revulsion.

  “You know how excited I get when you act rough with me.”

  Narrowly suppressing the impulse to turn thought into action, he encircled her wrists and wrenched her hands away.

  “You were my first mistake, my biggest mistake,” he said bluntly. “I should have recognized you for what you were before someone had to die.”

  Her smile was patient, so sweet it made him want to vomit up the acid churning in his gut. “I’m certain you don’t mean that, Ray. I remember how you loved to have me and one of your buddies …,” her smile turned poisonous, “ … at the same time.”

  She inclined her perfectly coiffed head, totally unaware that he barely, barely held on to a semblance of calm. Or maybe she did know and that was part of the thrill for her. The urge to end this now was almost overwhelming.

  “Tell me, Ray, was it more fun to have me on my knees in front of you or did you prefer one of your buddies like Caruthers? I’m sure there are people who would love to see that. We could call it Cops Out of Uniform.”

  His fingers were around her throat, squeezing, before he could stop the instinct. “That was your doing,” he growled, his voice echoing in the room like a wild animal’s.

  She didn’t fight him, just relaxed in his hold as
if she welcomed his brutality.

  Whore … she probably did.

  He released her. She swayed … caught her breath.

  “Do you know what happened to Keith?” The words raged out of Ray. The reality of what he had allowed to go on … to happen … ripped like a bullet through his heart.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Of course I don’t know what happened to him! Don’t you have any evidence? Any suspects? Good God, Ray, what’re you doing about this?”

  Lies. Shift the focus to someone else. He didn’t know why he even bothered to question her.

  “Are you responsible for what happened at Clint Austin’s home?” Every single muscle in Ray’s body was rigid with the wrath he’d suppressed far too long. That she could still, despite the circumstances, arouse him made him want to tear that traitorous organ from his body.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She sniffed. “Your accusations are becoming tedious, Ray.”

  His mouth twisted so tautly for one instant that speech proved impossible. Finally the words spewed from him. “You fooled me once. It won’t happen again.”

  She rested her hands on her silk-clad hips. “You act as if I’m one of your suspects. I won’t put up with that again.”

  Everything inside him … every cell … every molecule … went utterly still. “I will do the job right this time,” he warned.

  “I’m finally happy, Ray,” she pleaded, her voice cajoling. “Don’t try to ruin it for me.”

  The sound of her begging made him sick. “Final warning,” he growled, barely holding on to his composure, “I’m watching.”

  There was no changing the past. Clint Austin had paid the price society demanded. Here and now was Ray’s primary concern. There would be no more mistakes.

  Satisfied that she had nothing more to say, he brushed past her. “Lock up when you leave.”

  Ray walked out the door without looking back, crossed the porch, and started down the steps feeling liberated for the first time in years. She was no longer going to manipulate him.