by Jo Davis
“You think?” His voice rang with hurt. “He lied, Cara. And when people lie, it’s to further their own agenda. Frankly, given Max’s murder and the accidents you and I have both had in the past few days, I’m guessing it’s all related and Max isn’t the only one with secrets. That’s usually the way these things work.”
Cold settled in the pit of her stomach, and she met his eyes again. “It’s almost as if . . . he pointed me at you like a missile. Like, despite his ranting, he wanted me to find you and make you pay for Jenny’s death.”
“Yet he had to know what would happen if we compared notes.”
“You think he came here the other day to confess what’s really going on, and someone wanted to keep him from talking to me?”
“He ended up with a bullet in his forehead. It’s not a stretch.” Softening his tone, he immediately appeared contrite. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“No, you’re right.” Swallowing hard, she said, “It’s eye-opening to realize the man I loved like a second father wasn’t exactly the man I thought. I want the truth about everything.”
“I don’t think you do. Not yet—”
“Why would you say that?” she cried. “My sister died, and I don’t know how Connor could do such a thing, especially to his pregnant wife!”
Her words had the effect of a knife thrust straight into Taylor’s stomach. Making a noise that sounded like he’d been stabbed, he stepped back, eyes wide. “Your sister was pregnant?”
“You didn’t know?” The silence in the suddenly small room spoke volumes. Finally, he found his voice.
“No. I . . . You’re free to go. I’ll be in touch.”
Spinning on his heel, he turned and strode purposefully for the door, not once looking back before shutting it behind him. Cara stared after him, sick at heart. Taylor had looked like he was about to become ill. If she’d realized he hadn’t known, she never would’ve told him. For several minutes, she sat in the interview room, going back over their conversation in her head.
“You don’t think I’ve paid? That I don’t play out that scene in my head every day, that I get any relief from what happened even after I go to sleep?”
And slowly it dawned on her that even if she still wanted to make him pay for her sister’s death, there was no need.
Taylor already blamed himself more than anyone else ever could.
• • •
He barely made it to the men’s room before he hit his knees in front of the toilet and got violently sick.
“Which one gets to walk out, huh? Choose, goddamn you!”
He hadn’t been able to do it. And his decision not to choose had cost an innocent baby its life. Oh, God.
He’d never wanted to die more than he did at that very second.
Unfortunately, he kept right on breathing. At least nobody entered the bathroom to witness his shame, for which he was extremely grateful. Still feeling queasy, he rose and splashed water on his face, rinsed his mouth. He wasn’t human again, nowhere close, but he could get through the rest of this awful day. Maybe.
Shane was coming down the hallway when he exited the restroom, and frowned. “You all right? I’ve been looking for you.”
“I’m good,” he lied. “Must’ve eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”
His partner’s expression said he didn’t necessarily believe that, but he had other pressing concerns at the moment. “If you’re going to make it the rest of the day, we got a call from Ace.”
A new informant, hopefully taking up the slack from Blake quitting. “He says he’s got a tip on Griffin’s murder and needs to talk to us, ASAP.”
“Did he give any indication what he found out?”
“Nope. But he was nervous, said to hurry.”
They were already heading toward the front of the building, then out the door. “Where are we going?”
“Those old apartments off Glenview.”
“He live over there?” At Shane’s nod, he said, “Christ, a novice. Never, never be seen talking to the cops in your own hood.”
“No shit.”
The apartments were just shy of an eyesore, an old, worn shoe with a floppy sole among the sleek, modern buildings that surrounded them. Several times the city had proposed tearing them down, only to face fierce opposition from those protecting the lower-income citizens who lived there.
Ace apparently was one of those citizens. He met them near the entrance and led them into an alcove between the buildings. Ace was young, but not as young as Blake. Midtwenties would be Taylor’s guess. He was taller than Blake, a handsome boy with chocolate brown skin. His Nikes had seen better days, and though his jeans and T-shirt were worn, they were clean. He struck Taylor as a man stuck in limbo, trying to better himself by taking whatever job would help. But that was only an impression.
Ace turned to them as they found a quiet space near a Dumpster, expression worried. “You got big trouble here, man.”
“Who’s got big trouble?” Taylor asked. “Me? The city in general?”
“With a dude like this one, there ain’t no difference. You got a badass mofo here to do business, is the word goin’ around.”
“This badass have a name?”
“Snyder is all I know. He’s a big fucker. A pro, too. He want you dead, you gonna get that way sooner or later.”
Taylor exchanged a look with Shane. His partner was troubled by the news as much as he was. “Any idea who he’s after?”
“Man, you slow or what?” Ace eyed Taylor up and down with derision. “Don’t know what you did in a past life to end up with a double dose of stupid, but you better figure it out before he kills yo dumb ass.”
Despite the tendril of fear that snaked through his gut, Taylor grinned at his partner. “This Snyder is the badass, and I’m the dumb-ass. I don’t think that’s very fair.”
“Hey, you’ve always got your beauty. That’s gotta count, right?”
“Probably not.”
Ace was glancing between them as if they were both nuts. Which they probably were. “Whatever, man. I said what I needed to. Cover yo stupid ass, man.”
Shane pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and handed it over to the younger man, who quickly pocketed it. With a nod, he vanished between the buildings like a ghost.
“Well, that was informative,” Taylor said dryly. “If I’m going to rate a hit man, it had better be a badass pro the size of a Sherman tank, or I’d feel cheated.”
His partner scowled. “If that’s supposed to be funny, I’m not laughing.”
He sighed. “I never said it was funny and I’m not laughing. I’m trying not to freak out here as I wonder what the fuck this is all about.”
“Me, too.”
“I guess we see what info we can find on a gun for hire named Snyder. If that’s even his real name, which I doubt.”
“I’ll ask Chris—”
Shane’s words were suddenly cut off by a sharp coughing noise, and immediately a spot next to Taylor’s head burst in a shower of brick that stung his cheek. Momentarily confused, he instinctively swung his head around to look at the spot, trying to figure out what had caused the shower of shards. Then, with a curse, Shane grabbed his arm and dragged him from where he’d been standing. Just in time.
Another cough, and the brick exploded right where his head had just been.
“Get down!”
Taylor stumbled, yanking his gun from the holster at his waist, frantically looking for the shooter as they ran in a crouch, ducking around the Dumpster. Bullets pinged off the metal protecting them as they flattened themselves against it.
“Fuck!” Taylor swore, heart pounding. “Where is he?”
“No clue.” Shane tried to get a look around the Dumpster, but another shot rang out and he ducked again. “I’m guessing he’s down the corrido
r, past where we were standing.”
“Should we make a run for it?”
“It’s either that or stay here and wait to become Swiss cheese.”
Taylor gestured with his weapon. “I say we break cover, split up. Let’s circle behind the building, see if we can cut off his escape.”
“Worth a try. On three?”
Taylor nodded, gun at the ready, and waited for his partner to give the count. When Shane said three, they bolted from their hiding place and separated. As Taylor expected, he drew the shooter’s fire rather than Shane. There was no time for fear, only pure adrenaline as his legs pumped in a ground-eating run. More bullets pocked the wall, and one plucked at the arm of his jacket.
Relief flooded him as he rounded the corner, safe from the onslaught for the time being. But a woman stepped from an apartment, keys in hand, and her eyes widened as she saw him running toward her with a gun in hand.
“Police! Get back inside!”
She wasted no time in complying. He continued on, making for the tree line on the edge of the property, searching in vain for the shooter. It crossed his mind to wonder if Ace had sold him out, bringing him here on pretext. He didn’t know the younger man well enough yet to say, but he’d bring him the hell in and find out.
Once he gained the trees, he hustled from one to the next, but caught no movement as he scanned the apartment windows. Then Shane came around the corner of the building, moving fast, shouting, bringing his weapon down to point it toward the parking lot.
“Look out!” Shane yelled.
Fuck. That was his only thought as he realized he’d been looking in the wrong direction, that the hunter had done some maneuvering of his own. As he spun, spotted the bulky figure bracing a rifle with a scope on the hood of a Jeep, Taylor knew he was in big trouble. His arm didn’t even make the full swing upward when he saw the weapon jerk, the pop eerily quiet.
Then his head exploded in pain and he felt himself falling.
And he knew nothing more.
• • •
“What’s wrong?”
Cara slung her purse off her shoulder and walked into the living room, dumping it on the coffee table. She should’ve known Blake would tune in to the fact that there was something wrong the instant she got home. She’d never been great at hiding her emotions and she figured it wouldn’t do any good to start now. In fact, it was time to come clean about several things, before Blake had a chance to speak to Taylor.
“That might take a while.”
“Try me.” His face reflected genuine concern. “Lean on me for a change, will you? You don’t always have to be the strong one.”
Feeling numb, she sat on the sofa and waited as Blake took a seat close to her. “You’re right. You’ve been a good friend to me, too, and I do need somebody to talk to.” She paused. “My coming to Sugarland wasn’t random, like it might seem. I came here because my sister, Jenny, was murdered and I wanted to make the man responsible pay.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and he hesitated. “Okay. That’s understandable.”
“I got to town, set up the gig at the bar. Then most days I watched him, waiting for my chance to make him suffer.”
Blake looked worried. “So did you?”
“No. The more I shadowed his every move, the more I began to realize this man might not be the monster I’d been led to believe.”
“How’s that possible?” he asked in confusion. “I mean, if the bastard murdered your sister, there’s no redeeming that.”
“There is if I was wrong about the circumstances, which it appears I was.” She took a deep breath. “Max, who I thought was my friend, lied about what happened, and his involvement might have gotten him killed.”
“Just to clear it up for me, he’s not the one you were following?”
“No. Max twisted the story about the other man’s involvement, and I believed him, even though he wasn’t actually there when my sister died. I don’t know why he would lie, and now I’ve hurt someone who’s becoming special to me.”
During her pause, Blake put it together. “Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“Shit. All that talk about how he’s made mistakes, and the weird way you guys were acting around each other . . . That’s what he meant, isn’t it? Whatever went down with your sister is what caused him to pick up his life and move here?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you mind sharing with me what happened?” he asked softly, taking her hand in comfort.
Tears burned her throat, stung her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “Jenny’s husband, Connor, was never a very stable person. He was controlling and insecure in the beginning of their marriage, and only got worse. By the end, he was screaming at her regularly, calling her all sorts of horrible names. Then she got pregnant, and instead of improving their relationship, it made things a thousand times worse.”
“Pregnant?” he said in a hushed voice. “Oh no.”
“One day my sister had had enough and was packing her bags to leave. She’d told me it was time, and there were some things she wanted to talk to me about. A male friend of hers was there to help her get her stuff out, but Connor came home before they could get away.”
“You don’t have to finish.” He squeezed her hand.
But she had to get it out. “Connor lost it completely. Went right over the edge. He grabbed his gun and took my sister hostage, along with her friend and the housekeeper. But the housekeeper had already phoned nine-one-one, so the police were on the way. The cops arrived and tried to negotiate, but he wasn’t having it.”
“This is where Taylor comes in?”
Cara nodded. “Connor struck Jenny’s friend in the head with the butt of his gun and split open his scalp, knocking him unconscious. After what seemed like an eternity, Connor allowed them to send in a paramedic. The medic was actually Taylor, undercover.”
She stared at the carpet for several long minutes before she could continue. Blake just held her hand, lending silent support.
“I don’t know what tipped him off that Taylor was a cop, but that was the end. Connor killed . . .” Trailing off, she swallowed hard. “He shot and killed everyone there except Taylor, and the only reason Taylor wasn’t killed was because of his bulletproof vest.”
“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but am I missing something? How is that Taylor’s fault?”
“Anger and grief go a long way toward placing blame where there should be none,” she admitted. “And for years I lived on that while I just went through the motions of my life. When I started to question what happened, the actual details that led to the shooting, Max told me the undercover cop had screwed up. That he’d tried reverse psychology, egging Connor on, telling him to shoot and he’d lose everything, including his freedom. He said it backfired, and if the cop hadn’t made such a terrible mistake, my sister and the others would still be alive.”
“But how would Max have known what happened if he wasn’t there?”
“I know, right?” Her laugh was bitter. “He claimed he got the information on the sly from an informant inside the LAPD who saw the reports and heard talk from Internal Affairs. I had no reason not to believe him. He was a family friend and the cop a stranger.”
“Right,” Blake said slowly. “So, the question becomes, what did Max have to gain from pushing this scenario on you and making you believe it?”
“Nothing, except . . . maybe me killing Taylor.” She shuddered to think of allowing herself to sink that far. There was a time when, in her grief, she might have attempted it.
“So either he wanted to make Taylor the scapegoat and cover up the real story, or to get you to do someone’s dirty work for them.”
“How’d you get so smart?”
“School of hard knocks. So, what happened today? I get the feeling there’s more.”
&n
bsp; “Taylor found a photo album here and he took it to the station. He was going through it and saw pictures of me and Jenny and realized she was my sister. It didn’t take him long to figure out I had an ulterior motive for being in town.”
Blake winced. “I’ll bet that went over well.”
“Yeah. He was upset and called me on the deception. When I explained to him what I just told you, he denied Max’s claims that he antagonized Connor or acted inappropriately. He’s got a lot of guilt left over from that day, but not from that.”
“You think there’s more?”
“Something tells me there is. In any case, he’s upset enough that I don’t think he’ll want to see me anytime soon.”
He smiled. “That may be, but you guys aren’t going to solve your problems overnight. What do you say we get out of here awhile? I want to turn in the last couple of job applications, and then maybe we can get some ice cream.”
“Sounds good. I could use loads of sugar after a day like this.”
They headed out to her rental car and climbed in, and dropped off Blake’s applications. Then she pointed the car toward the ice-cream place that was a few minutes from their last stop.
“Jesus, what the hell is going on over there?” Blake pointed.
Stopping at a light, she followed his gesture and gazed out the passenger’s window at the sea of blue and red lights at a nearby apartment complex. “I don’t know, but it must be something major.”
Just then a tap on Cara’s driver’s window startled her. She lowered the glass to see a uniformed officer looking very serious as he leaned in close. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m going to have to ask you to turn around. We’re blocking off the area and I’m not sure when we’ll have it reopened.”
“Oh, okay. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Shooting,” he said curtly, stepping back and waving his arm. “Turn around, please.”
Shooting. That word was enough to send her mind tripping down a path she didn’t want to revisit. Carefully, she executed a U-turn and was straightening out the car when she gave the scene at the apartments one last glance—and spotted a familiar vehicle in the complex’s parking lot.