by Kylie Brant
She hadn’t heard a sound from upstairs in over an hour. Laying her forehead against her knees, Jolie found herself hoping that meant Dace was asleep. The shock to his system, followed by the heavy-duty pain medication, should do the job.
She wasn’t so lucky.
Lifting her head, she stared blindly at the television, her vision burning. It was useless to wish things could be different. Useless to believe that anything she did or said could change the inevitable. Dace Recker was a man who believed he could have a normal life. And he deserved to find a normal woman who could share that dream with him.
Her cell rang and she turned her head slowly in the direction of the sound. For a moment she was tempted not to answer it. But the sound could wake Dace. And it could be news of the case. Or of Trixie.
But she didn’t recognize the number on the screen. And when she answered, it took her a moment to jerk herself back to the investigation.
“Detective Conrad? I know we promised to get back to you earlier, but the debriefing only recently broke up.” The agent’s familiar voice was brisk, impersonal. “I wanted to be the first to give you the news. We have the subject in custody.”
Stunned, it took Jolie a moment to answer. “How? When?”
“I’ll fill you in later. I’m afraid I have some unfortunate information for you. It seems while we were meeting, your mother disappeared.”
A cold pool of fear spread in Jolie’s chest. “Disappeared?” She turned to pace toward the couch and away again. “Where? She was left alone?”
Her questions went unanswered. “We’ve traced her as far as Bellamy Court.” The park was the habitat of hookers and drug dealers after dark. “We can continue the search, but I thought I’d let you know, in case you’d like to join us. You may have more luck finding her than we will.”
Jolie was already heading upstairs to change out of her oversize tee and boxer pajama shorts. “I’m coming with you.”
“Not a problem.” There was a burst of static, then the agent’s voice sounded again. “…driving there myself. I’ll swing by and pick you up in five minutes.”
The call disconnected and Jolie did a quick change, a familiar sense of weariness filling her. This was her reality, and the contrast between it and what Dace was asking for couldn’t be starker. She hesitated before going downstairs, deciding to strap on her weapon. Bellamy Court was notoriously unsafe, although it was the type of place where Trixie would feel at home.
When she got downstairs, she scribbled him a quick note in case he woke up and wondered about her whereabouts.
Looking out the window, she noted the dark sedan was absent. Hawkins must have gotten the word that the feds had a suspect in hand. Lights speared down the street, and a car pulled to a stop outside the condo. Quietly, she locked the door and slipped outside, jogging to the discreet navy sedan.
CHAPTER 13
SAC Fenholt pulled away from the curb. “I expected to see Recker with you.”
A stab of guilt pierced Jolie. “I thought being shot today was enough excitement. He deserves some rest.” And he definitely didn’t deserve another scene with Trixie. She wasn’t his obligation, any more than Jolie was.
The woman checked oncoming traffic before turning the corner. “He can be updated about the break in the case tomorrow, I guess.”
“Maybe you can give me the condensed version now.”
“Chief Sanders passed along the link you and Recker made between the Marker brothers. He was rather insistent that we run a comparison between the DNA found at the bank scene and David Marker’s DNA in the military database. We got a match. We pulled Adam Marker in on a BOLO bulletin.”
Stunned, Jolie could only look at her. She and Dace had thought the Marker connection was a strong lead. But she had no idea the feds would act on it so quickly. Sanders must have really muscled the follow-up. And it was apparent from Fenholt’s grim voice that she wasn’t happy about her team missing the link.
Questions swarmed her mind. “Has he been interrogated? How did he access the memorial site? How much of the banks’ money can be recovered?”
“I wish I could answer those questions.” Weariness sounded in the woman’s voice. “But Marker lawyered up almost immediately. We’re going to have to do this the hard way. If you don’t mind, I’d like to switch the conversation to your mother. Does she have a cell? Are you able to call her?”
“No.” Her earlier excitement deflated with the suddenness of a pricked balloon. “Trixie leads a high-risk lifestyle. I can imagine that Bellamy Court may be a former hangout of hers. Since the security detail began, I’ve contacted Agent Hart when I want to talk to her.”
“So you have his number. Can I use your cell to call him?” The special agent gave her a wry smile. “To go along with everything else that could possibly go wrong today, my cell died right after I spoke to you.”
“Sure.” Jolie reached in her pocket and withdrew the cell phone. “Do you want me to bring up his number now?”
“If you would. Then I’ll talk to him. See where the search stands.”
Jolie accessed the number and handed it to the special agent. Fenholt was silent for a few seconds, then Hart must have answered. Without preamble the woman said, “Update me on the search. Have you found her yet?” She listened for a time then snapped, “Well, stay at it. We’ve got witnesses placing her in the park less than thirty minutes ago. You, Truman and Dawson spread out and comb it again. It’s one woman. How hard can she be to find? I’ve got Conrad with me and we’ll be there in five. I’ll contact you again then.”
Snapping the cell shut, she slid a glance to Jolie. “I’m going to keep your cell for the duration, if that’s all right.”
Giving a tired nod, Jolie leaned against the head rest, looking out the window. Four FBI agents were spending their evening looking for her wayward mother, and that was more than a little embarrassing. She should have expected that Trixie would make a run for it at the first opportunity. It was clear she chafed at the close observation she’d been under. Not for the first time Jolie wondered if she’d done her mother any favors by taking her in when Metro City Memorial Hospital had contacted her a few months earlier. Maybe Trixie was right. Did it really matter whether it was chemo, cancer or meth that got her in the end?
She drew in a breath. It mattered. To her, at least. She’d owed Trixie nothing, but something inside her had revolted at leaving the woman to her own devices while she died. It wasn’t because she’d hoped to form a relationship with the woman before her death. She knew her too well for that. But a need for something—closure?—had her refusing to walk away when it would have been so much easier. Jolie’s grandmother had been the only person in her life that had cared about her. She’d repay Gran in the only way she could. By not letting her wayward daughter die on the streets of Metro City.
* * *
Every sound in his bedroom seemed abnormally loud. Dace was aware of the click of the radio alarm counting each minute. The stirring of the blinds when the air conditioner turned on. The sound of his own breathing.
So he heard the door close downstairs. Assumed that one of the agents had returned. He knew Jolie had crept down there hours ago and hadn’t returned upstairs. Which was why he was loath to go down himself.
When it came to Jolie, he was out of words.
There was a dagger of pain at the thought, and it wasn’t in his arm. How did you convince a woman that she deserved happiness?
Especially since the one time she’d taken that chance, their world had caved in on top of them.
Dace opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling. He knew himself well. He was a man used to getting what he wanted once he studied all the angles and figured the best approach. But that tack didn’t always work with people and especially not with a woman like Jolie. She was a mass of complications, and her own fears mounted a formidable obstacle. The mistake he’d made in the past was in not knowing her well enough and believing he could tear down those fears bit by bit.
/> He knew her better now. Well enough to know that she was the only one who could break free of her past and grab a chance for happiness. And recognizing that skewered him with a helpless feeling.
Scowling, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He didn’t hear voices downstairs. Matter of fact, he didn’t hear anything. Maybe he’d dozed off a few minutes and Jolie had gone to bed earlier. At any rate, since he couldn’t sleep he might as well go down and get Dawson or Truman to update him on the debriefing.
He pulled a pair of jeans on and padded downstairs. The TV was still on, muted, but he saw no one. Checking the front door, he found it locked. A quick check found no one downstairs. He turned and took the steps two at a time and opened Jolie’s door. The couch hadn’t been pulled out into a bed.
Meaning the sound he’d heard earlier was her leaving.
The first trickle of unease traced through him. She hadn’t left for good. Her things were still upstairs. And she wasn’t stupid enough to go out alone when they were still unsure of the status of the security detail.
But her phone had rung earlier. He’d heard it. Whatever conversation she’d had must have led to her taking off. He went upstairs to finish dressing, grabbed his cell and headed back down. It was then that he saw the note she’d left for him in her familiar neat handwriting.
He picked it up and flipped on the light to read it. His earlier unease intensified. Fenholt? Why would the SAC be involved in searching for Trixie?
Taking out his cell, he placed a call to Dawson and got his voice mail. Same with Truman. His heartbeat quickening, he put a call through to Jolie. A moment later he was invited to leave a message. What the hell?
He didn’t have any of the other agents’ numbers. But something about this didn’t add up. Since no agent had returned to the condo, he assumed the security detail had been pulled for good. But what kind of operation made a decision like that without alerting the people who had been protected?
He tapped a beat on the edge of the counter with his index finger, thinking rapidly. Should he call Chief Sanders? Dace assumed the man would have been updated about the debriefing. Glancing at the clock, he decided against it. It was nearly eleven. And he had nothing to support this increasingly edgy feeling other than a missing addict and mounting suspicion.
The subject had accessed the memorial site. Not only accessed it, but had free rein to walk it, scattering gunpowder. To plant an IED. He’d infiltrated the perimeter with a weapon. Been seen in a police-issue vest. Probably had an ID.
Dace didn’t necessarily believe the subject was law enforcement. But it sure as hell looked like he’d had LEO assistance. He stared at his cell phone, thinking furiously. His car was toast, thanks to the bomb at Jolie’s place, and he hadn’t had time to get a replacement. Even if he could contact any of the agents, whom could he trust?
A moment later, his decision made, he dialed another number. He was probably overreacting. Logic had him recognizing that. But the ice in his chest wasn’t responding to reason. If there was a chance Jolie was walking into danger, he was damn well going after her. And he wasn’t going in alone.
* * *
At one time Bellamy Court might have been considered the jewel of the city. But as Metro City had sprawled outward, it had been left to deteriorate, along with the rest of its inner-city neighborhood. Jolie had been in the area on calls before. No trained police officer would ever enter its confines alone at night.
The unmanicured vegetation was slowly encroaching on the grassy space. Only every third streetlamp or so was in working order. She waited next to a graffiti-marred statue as Fenholt contacted Hart again, a sense of disquiet filling her.
“Where? Contain the area. Conrad and I will approach from the south.”
Fenholt flipped Jolie’s phone shut. “Your mother is in the restroom in the center of the park. Think you can talk her out?”
Jolie fell into step as the agent began striding rapidly into the interior of the park. “I can handle it from here. Really, my missing mother is hardly deserving of four federal agents’ time and energies.”
“She is when she disappeared on our watch.” Fenholt’s disgust was evident in her tone. “Someone will answer for that, but for now, the least we can do is get her back safe and sound.”
There was no more conversation after that. Jolie spent the few minutes as they walked into the wooded area contemplating just how she was going to get Trixie to leave with her. She was strongly tempted to cuff her and be done with it.
A building loomed ahead. The public restrooms. Jolie slowed, scanning the area. No one else was in sight. Her disquiet intensifying, her hand went to her weapon, an instinctive response.
Fenholt strode ahead, calling out, “Conrad! Come out!”
Jolie’s flesh prickled. Seconds stretched. Something about the scene rang false. The place was too quiet. Where were the other agents?
She took a step back. Then another. Started to pull her weapon.
And then stopped mid-motion a moment later when a voice sounded behind her. “I don’t think so, Detective Conrad. Drop it.”
She whirled, weapon in hand, to face a man nearly hidden in the shadows. She couldn’t make out his features, but it was easy enough to see the silhouette of the gun he held pointed at her. “Sorry to miss you this morning,” he said, with heavy inflection. “But we can rectify that now.”
“Hurry up, Marker.” Fenholt strode over, weapon in hand, and disarmed Jolie. “I delivered her as promised. Get it over with so we can move on.”
Comprehension slammed into her, too late to be of help. Dace had mentioned his concern of a law enforcement link. But never would Jolie have suspected the SAC herself.
But the pieces fit too neatly. She and Dace had noted a familiarity with LEO tactics when they’d negotiated the barricaded subject at the bank. And no one else had the authority to pull the agents from the security detail, leaving her and Dace vulnerable.
Throat tight, she said to Fenholt, “Where’s my mother?”
“I have no idea.” She heard the shrug in the woman’s voice. “This was never about her. Once I pulled Hart into the debriefing and dropped the security detail, I imagine she took off. She’s not really going to be your concern much longer.”
“You were supposed to bring Recker, too,” Marker said.
“I’ve got Conrad’s cell phone. I can get him here. But first I want your word that this ends tonight. I took a hell of a risk ‘losing’ your brother’s blood samples. Now you’ve stirred up such a crap storm with your revenge agenda that my career is going to play hell surviving it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Gee. You aren’t going to survive it.” The muzzle flash accompanied by the sound of the silenced gun split the darkness. Fenholt crumpled. A split second later, Jolie was diving for the agent’s weapon. Only to find Marker’s weapon pressed against the back of her skull.
“Use your left hand. Pick it up by the barrel and toss it away.”
Mind racing furiously, Jolie did as she was told. What had Fenholt done with Jolie’s weapon? Tucked it in her waistband? Looking down at the body, she was unable to tell. But it made sense that she’d hang on to the weapon to dispose of later.
“Back away from the body. Now!” he barked harshly, when she was slow to move. “I guess I can always go after Recker once I’m done with you. Shouldn’t be too hard since Gee was kind enough to get the federal babysitters removed.”
Her breath strangled in her chest. Dace would be alone. Without protection. Probably asleep and vulnerable. The thought turned her veins to ice water. There was no way she was going to allow Marker out of this park alive to carry out his revenge on Dace. The man had to be stopped before anyone else died.
She rose, circling the agent’s body to keep it between them. “So Fenholt was the brains of the bank heists. Convenient for you. I suppose she directed the investigation away from you and your record. Did she falsify your alibis, too? Manufacture eviden
ce of a terrorist cell to misdirect the investigation?”
He moved, tracking her with the weapon. “She was useful for a while, I’ll admit. Having a G-man—or in her case, woman—taking care of the details did come in handy. But she just couldn’t understand that avenging David is more important than planning the next bank job. But I’ll bet you understand, don’t you, Conrad?”
“I understand more than you think.” It was second nature to keep her breathing normal, her voice calm. She’d defused dozens of armed confrontations in HNT.
But none of those incidents had put her inches away from a loaded weapon. There was no full-response tactical back-up team to go in if she failed.
And if she failed, Marker was going for Dace.
“I’m the one who talked to David, remember? Actually, I spoke to him more than Detective Recker did.”
“Shut the hell up,” the man snarled. “Don’t even mention his name to me. You got him killed!”
“He asked me to call him John,” she said calmly. She continued to inch around the body, feeling for a weapon with the toe of her shoe. One chance was all she was going to get. It wasn’t a matter of whether she could get to the weapon before Marker fired. She couldn’t.
All she could hope for was that his first shot wasn’t fatal.
“Don’t you want to know what we talked about?” Tension was radiating off the man in waves. She knew just how tightly wound he was. But she didn’t have time to establish rapport. She had to play the one card she had and hope it was the right one.
“Negotiators spend a long time talking to the barricaded subjects. Not just about the incident, but about what’s going on in their mind.” As that went, “John” hadn’t been particularly forthcoming, but Marker didn’t need to know that. “He spoke about you.”
“You’re lying. He was too well trained to give away any personal information.”
“That’s right.” She stilled. Was that the weapon she felt beneath the woman’s body? Wiggling her toes, she felt something hard. Her gun, or the cell phone? “He didn’t mention you by name. But we talked about family meaning everything. He talked about having one person in particular whom he trusted. That was you, wasn’t it? I figured a father. A brother.”