Inside Moves

by Walter Danley

  Table of Contents

  PRAISE for INSIDE MOVES

  COPYRIGHT © 2017

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A PERSONAL NOTE

  PRAISE for INSIDE MOVES

  I LOVE the book so far. I'm not telling you this to butter you up—I really mean it. In so many novels I edit, the plots need so much work and there are so many discrepancies that need to be cleared up. ...I'm not finding any plot problems .... You tell the story so well. There's also lots of romance, action, and suspense—not to mention a great deal of humor. It's really a very commercial thriller/suspense novel, and it's so well written. ~ Angela Brown, Developmental Editor and Proofreader

  I THINK YOU’RE A GREAT writer and I, as a humble NON-fiction writer, am enjoying the book a great deal. It’s a fast read and paces well. It moves, it keeps interest with the twists and turns, and it’s a fun read. I’ll just read it as a delightful novel and savor it. I love the energy and I am really, really enjoying it! ~Jennifer Webb, Author, Magician & Motivational Speaker

  I FINISHED READING and leaving comments and I want you to know it is a fascinating story and should sell well. ~Allison Kohn ~ Author of 30 Novels

  I ENJOYED THE NOVEL immensely. I liked seeing the other side of Amiti when he and Garth worked together. He came across less as a cold-blooded killer and more like a man who lived by a different code of honor, but followed it scrupulously. (Spoiler deleted) While a like happy endings, the poignancy is fitting. ~ Dr. Kurt Springs, ALM, M.Litt., Ph D, Professor, Manchester Community College

  THE HONEST TRUTH...I think the flow is much better than in The Tipping Point. It’s a much easier read. I’m really enjoying it, and it’s hard to put down. ~ Barbara Koster, Past Commodore 2016 - Rockport Yacht Club

  FINISHED IT IN 2 DAYS; fast for me. And the reason? IT'S A PAGE TURNER! And even better, in my opinion, than Tipping Point. It is clearly an action packed, cleverly plotted, character driven adventure story. ~ Jack Wishard,~ Procter & Gamble~ VP Filmed Entertainment (retired)

  I ENJOYED THE PLOT, you've got a good story. It moves quickly and engages the reader. Bringing Amiti back and having him and Wainwright partner to find Lacey is a great, unexpected twist. Thanks for the opportunity to Beta read Inside Moves, I was happy to be one of the firsts. ~ Marjean Weiler ~ Book Reviewer

  KIRKUS REVIEWS ~ Danley is an adept storyteller, and the tale unfurls at a pace that keeps the reader pressing forward.... relishes in its own twists and tropes.

  D. DONOVAN, SENIOR Reviewer, Midwest Book Reviews ~ Inside Moves joins The Tipping Point in Walter Danley's ‘Wainwright Mystery' series, but that doesn't mean that prior familiarity with the first novel is a prerequisite to enjoying this one. Flashbacks neatly put together the prior story of Lacey and Garth's relationship and lives while the central them of Garth's uncertain recovery and his ability to investigate without the tools of even his own memory makes for a gripping story of recovery and determination.

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  COPYRIGHT © 2017

  by Walter Danley

  All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Marble Arch Communications

  215 West Bandera Road

  Suite 114-615

  Boerne, TX 78006

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover Art & Design: Fiona Jayde Media

  Editor: Angela Brown

  Inside Moves by Walter Danley 1st edition

  ISBN 978-0-9888052-4-8 Digital Edition

  ISBN 978-0-9888052-5-5 Print Edition

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  DEDICATION

  THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED to those amazing readers who sent emails and posted reviews of this work. Thank you all for your support. It means so much to know people appreciate my work.

  Many readers have told me they are fans of David Baldacci, Sandra Brown, Harlan Coben, Michael Connelly, and Robert Crais. Well, so am I. These great authors have influenced my work and I can think of no better role models to study in order to advance my craft. It is such a great honor to have my work compared favorably with these giants of literature. I want all my novels to be the best I can make them.

  This novel, Inside Moves, is for you, the readers who have complimented my work and asked for more of Wainwright, Lacey, and the Assassin.

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  Dr. Mark Fitzgerald – Emergency Room Physician and gun enthusiasts. I’m indebted to Dr. Fitz for his medical advice as well as for his knowledgeable corrections to the weapons used and what medical results they produce. His experience was invaluable to this novel and the accuracy of many of the fight scenes. Thank you, Mark. Naming Wainwright ‘s attending physician after you is a small token of my thanks.

  Donalie Beltran—a dear friend and fellow author whose bestselling true crime drama, Murder is a Family Affair was, reviewed on Thrillernovels.Net. Bob, her loving husband owns and operates big rigs and because of Donalie’s intimate knowledge of the trucking business she kept this humble scribe from a terrible error as well as providing expert feedback on many other aspects of the 1st draft. Donalie, you are one in a million!

  There were several other kind souls who tread through the 1st draft and provided good suggestions/thoughts/comments as beta readers. Donalie was part of that posse, as were; Jack Wishard, a dear friend and retired Executive from Proctor & Gamble. My other angels were Allison Kohn, Karen Oberlaender, Lee Singleterry, Dr. Kurt Springs and motivational speaker, Jennifer Webb, and Marjean Weiler. They all have been helpful with feedback and suggestions.

  I believe Reno Lovison is the best videographer in Chicago. For the trailer for Inside Moves, Reno and his bride came to San Antonio to film yours truly at the convention center on the River Walk. Another terrific job Reno. Thank you!

  I was so lucky to find Cover Designer—Fiona Jayde of Jayde Media. She has now done covers for the two books in A Wainwright Mystery series. Great job Fiona! I do love your work.

  And finally, but first in so many ways, my wonderful editor—Angela Brown. If Angela lived closer to South Texas, I would make it a point to take her to a magnificent dinner at least once a week. She deserves 1st class treatment in acknowledgement of her editorial experience and talent. Angela’s work spans developmental, line and copy editing. She does it all and very well. Thank you so much Angela. You are a treasure!

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  ONE

  THE AMBULANCE SCREECHED around the corner—its light bar flashing and siren screaming—toward Santa Barbara General Hospital’s emergency-room entrance.

  An older couple sitting on the bus-shelter bench at the corner was startled by the sounds of the vehicle, along with the knowledge of what that meant.

/>   The man looked to be in his midseventies. He took the woman’s hand in his; she’d been startled more severely than he was. “Sweetheart, since we’ve lived in Santa Barbara nearly all our lives, I’d say there’s a good chance we might know whoever’s in that ambulance.”

  But they didn’t.

  Desperate to keep the man alive, EMT David Ortega kept his eye on the heart-rate monitor for any changes to Bobby Wainwright’s vital signs.

  “We’re losing him!” he yelled to his partner, Tom, who punched the accelerator of the ambulance.

  David felt the ambulance lunge forward. Tom liked to drive fast when the siren and flashers cleared his path. Regaining his balance, David prepared to do CPR while speaking to Dr. Richard Kiersten through his headset. The doctor was standing by in the OR, awaiting their arrival at SBGH.

  “Give him Narcan IC,” he instructed David.

  David hated giving intracardiac injections because they could produce complications. Besides that, just the idea of stabbing someone in the heart with a long needle was ugly. But he did it anyway. With nothing to do but watch the monitor and the patient, David read the notes Tom had taken at the accident site.

  Bobby Wainwright. Poor guy. Just a few years older than me. Huh? Owner of Wainwright Erectors in Carmel. Not from around here. Bet he makes a ton more than me. Accident on the job...Man, something really big must have fallen on this dude. Goose bumps jumped out on his arms. No matter how much he makes, I don’t want to be him right now.

  At the emergency entrance, David and Tom prepared Bobby for the operating room and Dr. Kiersten. As David jumped out of the ambulance, he saw an elderly couple at a bus shelter watching him. The woman looked scared to death. Dear God, don’t let her suffer a heart attack before I get this guy into the OR, David thought.

  The first responders had brought Bobby to the hospital closest to the construction site where he had been injured. He’d been making a jobsite visit. As the owner of Wainwright Erectors, Bobby kept a short rein on any project with his name on it. Right now, it didn’t appear that this hospital was close enough.

  “CALL IT, ANGEL.”

  Nurse Angel Beltran looked at her wristwatch. “Time of death: 17:47, Doctor. I’m sorry. You did all you could.”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t enough. His chart shows he’s an organ donor,” Dr. Kiersten said as he pulled off the bloody surgical gloves. Dejected, he tossed them onto his deceased patient’s surgical drape. “He didn’t make it, no matter what I tried.” He let out a deep sigh. “Notify the organ-donor team. They’ll take over from here.”

  “There’s so much irony in something like this,” Nurse Beltran said. “We lose one patient, but his organs will save other lives.”

  The team was preparing to leave the OR when Dr. Kiersten asked, “Will you take care of notifying the family, Angel?”

  “It’s in progress. Admissions called the man’s wife in Carmel and informed her of the accident. She’s on her way, but it’ll take several hours for her to get here. Mrs. Wainwright said another relative, an aunt, lives in Montecito. She’ll call the aunt, who’ll be here shortly.”

  “Thanks, Angel. God, I hate it when I can’t save ’em.” He left the OR through the pneumatic double doors, followed by Nurse Beltran and three trauma team members.

  LACEY AND GARTH WERE silent as the Karmann Ghia cruised the Ventura Freeway. Garth Wainwright’s thoughts were of his brother. God, how I miss Bobby. They’d grown into adulthood as caring brothers but not close friends, which Wainwright regretted. He finally broke the silence. “Bobby would have appreciated everything Auntie Emma did to arrange the funeral service and reception; don’t you think?”

  “Yes, honey. It was a lovely tribute,” Lacey agreed.

  “You know what’s funny, in a weird sort of way? Not in a ha-ha funny way. Now that Bobby’s gone, I’m keenly aware of all the things I didn’t do with him in the last thirty-odd years we spent together on this planet. I miss him more than I ever thought possible. It was always so easy to say we’d get together sometime in the near future. Now there is no future, and I’m left with nothing but regrets.”

  Lacey Kincaid Wainwright reached over and squeezed his arm. It was the only gesture to acknowledge his sadness that she could express right then. Loss and regret: what a terrible combination to endure. She knew the funeral services for Bobby hadn’t brought closure for her husband.

  As they followed the freeway south along the moonlit coast from Auntie Emma’s Montecito home, shimmering waves fluoresced on their right as they absorbed the peacefulness of the drive home. A balmy breeze blew the scent of the sea through their hair. The restored green ’65 Karmann Ghia that Wainwright had recently bought was a pure pleasure to drive with the top down. He’d driven it only a few days before the two of them had left for their honeymoon in Salzburg, Austria.

  Lacey turned to him. “Do you know why that man Ernest Cruz was at the funeral and reception? Do you think Bobby knew him?”

  Wainwright shrugged. “No idea. I don’t know him. He doesn’t look like he’d run in the same crowd as my brother.”

  “Well, you’ve got that part right. But I do know him. Cruz was a first-year associate at my law firm. Carson Starr fired him a few months ago. ‘Inappropriate relationships’ was the reason. That’s nice talk for bedding a client and hanging out with the wrong folks. Although Starr is a liberal-minded manager, screwing a client and associating with drug dealers is all it takes to bring out the righteous Republican in him. I can’t imagine what Cruz was doing there.”

  “Bobby wouldn’t have befriended low-life scum. I’ll ask Auntie Emma why Cruz showed up. Maybe she can explain it.”

  The air remained balmy when Wainwright took the Topanga Canyon exit off the 101 freeway on the way to their home in Playa del Rey. He drove through Topanga Village, with its closed stores on Ventura Boulevard, then continued uphill toward the ridge. Past that, the road ran downhill, all the way to Pacific Coast Highway and the ocean. Steep canyon walls exaggerated the shadows cast by the full moon on the two-lane road as it twisted and turned uphill through the Santa Monica Mountains pass. In an effort to alleviate the somber mood, Lacey sang along to a Billy Joel number on the radio. Wainwright was half listening, his mind on their abrupt departure from Austria. Of course they needed to come back to California for Bobby’s funeral. Poor Lacey, he thought. The two had to wait so long to get married, and then to have their honeymoon cut short with Bobby’s death...

  “Lacey, honey, we’ll pick up where we left off. With the honeymoon, I mean.”

  “That’s a sweet thought, but we had a spectacular trip together. All your hard work made it special. Oh, and seeing those fugitives, Amiti and BJ, added to the charm. It boggles my mind that they’ve been able to evade the FBI, Interpol, Scotland Yard, and every police force in the Western world for the past four years.”

  “Yeah, and then they just walk into a photograph I’m taking in a Salzburg café.”

  “I wonder how they managed to get to Salzburg from Freeport,” Lacey said.

  “You know, if we hadn’t left just as you picked Barbara Joyce out of that photo, we’d still be in Salzburg, sidelined by the FBI guys, while they chased Amiti and BJ. Leaving when we did, no matter the reason, was the right thing to do.”

  Lacey, ever the lawyer, saw an opening for a jab at her husband; Wainwright needed a poke in the ribs to get his mind off his brother’s death. “Please tell me that’s not what you were daydreaming about just now, catching up with your old lover, BJ.”

  Knowing that discretion was the better part of valor, Wainwright ignored Lacey’s statement. With a scrunched-up expression on his face, he gave her leg a pat. Wainwright was always a careful driver; he kept his eyes on the road and constantly scanned his rearview and side mirrors. There was no oncoming traffic, and having the road to themselves tonight was fine with him. Besides, he didn’t feel like having company of any kind.

  After a while he said, “No, I wasn’t. And BJ was just
a casual date a very long time ago.” Time to inhale, he thought. “I was just wondering if the FBI agents from the US embassy in Vienna got to Salzburg in time to arrest Amiti and BJ. It’s less than a three-hour train trip.”

  “I’d like to know why Amiti accepted those contracts to assassinate your partners. What little we know is rife with speculation.”

  As they continued their drive home, Wainwright took no notice of the black Jeep Wagoneer idling on a side street as they passed. He didn’t see the Jeep pull onto Topanga, nor did he see the black Mercedes town car that followed it with its headlights off. Lacey unfastened her seat belt to reach for her purse in the backseat. As Wainwright glanced at her, he noticed headlights following them.

  He reached for the mirror to kill the glare. “I wish the guy behind us would use his low beams. I’m going blind here.”

  Lacey chuckled. “Garth, don’t say things like that. Who ever heard of a blind novelist?”

  “Well, John Milton was blind when he wrote Paradise Lost.”

  “One,” she said with a grin, “Paradise Lost was an epic poem, not a novel. Two: he spent eleven years dictating it to literary assistants and friends. Don’t expect me to be your scribe.”

  Wainwright smiled at her dig and checked his mirror again. The Jeep appeared to be moving up quickly. “This guy’s driving way too fast on this road.”

  He tapped the brakes a few times, hoping it would let the driver know he should slow down.

  It didn’t.

  Wainwright pushed the little convertible faster. His speedometer read fifty-five miles an hour, too fast for this snaky mountain road. The other driver was gaining on them.