“Claymore Investments. That’s where Fred worked.”
“Son of a bitch.” Neil frowned. “The two cases have to be connected. If someone at Claymore Investments was behind the attack in LA, learning Nancy was about to examine their books wouldn’t have made them happy. If the company was laundering money for Ramirez, a sloppy hit disguised as a terrorist attack would make perfect sense.” Keeping his voice low, he leaned closer to Todd. “Offing Fred’s a given, but killing Melissa Paxton would put an end to the divorce action and get Nancy off their backs. One stop shopping as they say.”
“There’s something else I have to show you,” Todd said. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a photo, and held it out to Neil. “This is Melissa Paxton’s latest from DMV.”
Confused, Neil reached for the photograph. Glancing at it, his breath caught in his throat.
“Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “They could be sisters.”
Todd nodded. “It’s the first thing that hit me.”
“I wonder what they thought when they saw one another?”
“Nancy would’ve seen the similarity, but I doubt Melissa did. Nancy cut her hair short and dyed it burgundy, whatever color that is, on Saturday.”
Stunned, Neil blinked. He couldn’t have heard right. “Nancy cut and colored her hair? I don’t believe it. That golden mane was her pride and joy.”
“I didn’t recognize her when I saw her. She looked fantastic ... said it was time for a change,” Meredith said, stepping over to look at the photo. “It’s funny. All these years I’ve been telling Nancy she reminded me of someone. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together.” Tears brimmed her eyes.
Neil forced his terror to the back of his mind, trying to look at the situation with a lawman’s eyes.
“If you’re right about a connection to the package, we need to make sure Melissa wasn’t killed by accident. The husband did say she wasn’t supposed to be there, so he may know more than he’s saying even if he’s not behind this. If Nancy was the target, once they know she survived, they’ll try again.”
“I’ll call Anderson and fill him in. Justice is going to have to share what they’ve got with the FBI and BPD and they aren’t going to be happy about it. If all this was meant to take down Fred, they aren’t going to stop at two failed attempts.”
“If Nancy was the target, they’ll have to come through me,” Neil said, but if Todd was right and Fred had instigated this, for the good of his health, he needed to stay far away from Neil.
* * *
Nancy drifted from the soothing whiteness, through an uncomfortable grayness filled with splashes of images, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit together, into the noisy, agony-filled darkness. Her chest ached. The throbbing in her head blinded her, as if there were dozens of angry gorillas tap-dancing on her brain. She moved slightly and pain cascaded through her body, her joints stiff and sore as if they hadn’t moved in a very long time. She groaned.
“It’s okay, Nancy. I’m here.”
Footsteps approached, and someone touched her hand. That calloused palm was familiar as was the soothing voice. Neil Copeland. What was he doing here?
They’d started dating a few months ago, but he’d been away on a case most of that time. He was a real-live hero, one of the good guys. She really liked him, thought they might have a future together, but his job would make that difficult. It took so much out of him, he didn’t have a lot left for anyone else, and as much as she liked him now, in time she’d come to resent that just as her mother had. Dad had always put his work ahead of them.
She shifted slightly, appalled by the strength of the agony that ensued from the slight movement. Her brain was full of confused impressions which refused to solidify and make sense. Amid the chaos, an image of mountains and snow coalesced, and she focused on that thought, that memory. Skiing! They’d gone skiing. It had been freezing, and she’d fallen farther down the hill than she’d skied. She’d never claimed to be an athlete, and since she’d used a whole new set of muscles, Neil had warned her she might be sore today, but seriously? She hadn’t hit the ground that hard—besides it was snow-covered, right? Shouldn’t it have been cushiony?
The room was dark, not pitch black, but she couldn’t really make out anything. Neil’s fuzzy shadow stood close to her, but when she tried to speak, she couldn’t. There was something in her mouth, sliding down her throat. Panic threatened to suffocate her. Where was she? Her heartbeat increased as did the beeps echoing around her. The pain in her head intensified. She tried to swallow again, but couldn’t. Her throat wouldn’t work.
“Don’t try to talk, sweetheart. Just rest. You’ve had a lousy couple of weeks.”
Weeks? What’s he talking about?
She’d arrived in Vermont only yesterday. Something wasn’t right. His voice told her he was worried and upset, but without her glasses and in the dim light, she couldn’t see him clearly enough to read his face. His arm darted out of her field of vision.
“Nancy’s awake. Send someone in. She’s in pain.” His voice was edgy, filled with excitement, and heavy with emotion.
The door opened, and instantly light filled the room. The brightness pierced her eyes like a hundred tiny knives, increasing the pain in her head exponentially. She whimpered and shut them quickly. Neil gasped.
“The light’s too bright. You’re hurting her.”
A few seconds later, someone approached the bed. She tried to clutch Neil’s hand more tightly, but didn’t have the strength to do it. He must have felt her weak movement because he gently squeezed her hand in response.
“I’m here. It’s okay.” His lips brushed her hand.
Where was her mother? If she’d been in some kind of accident, her mother would want to be here with her. Memory came to her rescue. Mom probably wasn’t back from her cruise yet. The pain grew in its intensity, and tears crept down her cheeks.
“It’s okay. You’ll feel better shortly.”
It was the angel’s voice she’d heard before, and as she opened her eyes in the slightly dimmer room, a figure in white stood beside the bed.
“She’s very strong to fight the sedative like this. We need her to rest a little longer.”
Rest? Why did she need more rest?
The blessed, comforting whiteness returned.
* * *
Neil dropped to the floor to do the pushups that were part of his daily routine. In the three weeks since the shooting, he’d hardly been out of the room. Days and nights blended together seamlessly. The only time he left the unit was when either Todd or Meredith could stay with Nancy, or hospital personnel had to wash her, change her dressings, or perform a series of passive exercises to prevent her muscles from atrophying. Flipping over, he did sit-ups and crunches. He couldn’t let himself go soft. Being physically fit was part and parcel of his job. As much as he was here as a doting husband, he was still a marshal, and vigilance was part and parcel of who he was.
Nancy had been back in surgery a few days ago to replace the cranial plates they’d removed. Since the doctor had assured him there was no danger whatsoever, he’d used the opportunity to go for a much needed run and a haircut. He missed the fresh air, but until he was 100 percent certain that Nancy was safe, he would do without it.
He stretched and moved back to his habitual position next to the bed, straddling the chair the way he usually did, staring down at her still body. The induced coma she was in wasn’t a deep one, and occasionally, she moaned and groaned. When she did, he held her hand and talked to her until he felt her relax.
What was going on in that pretty little head of hers? Was she reliving the assault? Although she surfaced briefly from the drug-induced coma, he doubted she was aware of what was going on around her. As Doris had suggested, they talked to her, but other than a soft moan now and then, she didn’t react to their words.
Thus far, the investigators had managed to eliminate most of the scenarios they’d started with, and Mahoney declared
he was at a dead end, something that didn’t please him one damn bit. Those men hadn’t been ghosts. No one had claimed responsibility for the bloodbath. All the major foreign and domestic terrorist groups were in the clear as were the local gangs. The FBI had tapped all their informants in the crime families, and no one knew anything about a hit put out in Baltimore. It made no sense.
A few of the others who’d survived the assault had provided vital information about the attack, but since Melissa Paxton and Nancy were the only women patrons they’d tried to kill, the FBI agents on the case were eager to interview her. Despite their badgering, Doctor Howard refused to bring her out of the coma until she was ready. Neil didn’t argue with him. The FBI would just have to wait.
The sound of the door opening roused Neil from his musings. Meredith entered the room, dressed in a navy pantsuit, looking more like the self-assured lawyer she was. Todd followed her in.
“Good morning,” she said. “Her color’s better, don’t you think?”
It was wishful thinking on Meredith’s part, but Neil humored her.
“Yeah. Getting rid of the respirator helped.”
Nancy, breathing on her own now, was pale, her pink lips visible through the clear plastic oxygen mask, the only real color on her ashen face, but they’d dressed her in a hot pink johnny gown today, and it implied a faint tinge of color.
Meredith reached out and touched Nancy’s cheek.
“Hey, girl, you’re looking better all the time. I’m going back to Crystal Beach for a few days. I’ll stop by your place and check things out. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.” She leaned down, kissed her on the forehead, and turned to him.
“I’ll be back midweek. I’m going to pass my cases on to the others at the firm. You’ll need someone to help you carry the load. I’m thinking of leaving the practice. I haven’t got the heart for this anymore. Once she’s awake, we can take turns staying with her. Todd’s taking me to the airport. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine. I appreciate the time you’ve spent here, and any help you can offer when she’s feeling better would be great. As soon as she can be moved, I’ll take her home.”
Meredith stepped closer to him and hugged him.
“She’ll like that. You know, I never thought that divorce was a good idea, and since she didn’t sign the papers yet, we can just tear it all up if you’re both agreed.” She kissed his cheek and turned to Todd. “I’ll wait for you at the elevator.”
Todd nodded and stood by the window.
“What is it?” Neil asked anxiously after the door closed.
Todd ran his hand over his shiny scalp as if he were polishing it.
“The FBI forensic accountants and the IRS agents looking into Claymore Investments have found a few irregularities—more than good old Fred offered. Someone’s been skimming more than a little off some of the accounts. The jerk claims he’s not responsible for all of it, but since they can’t prosecute him, I don’t know why he just won’t come clean. The good news is they haven’t found anything to warrant a price tag on Nancy’s head, so it’s unlikely she was the target. Now that the JD finally coughed everything up about Fred, the FBI think whoever tried to off him in LA, didn’t know we had him and was trying it again. According to the reservation book, he was a regular—table for two, occasionally for three, at 1:00 every Tuesday. Eight of the nine men killed resembled him in some way, which means the killers didn’t really know what he looked like. Probably a hit squad assembled in one hell of a hurry.”
“But why kill Melissa Paxton, Larry Jackson, and the staff?”
“That’s the ten million dollar question keeping Mahoney awake at night. The best he can offer is that it was part of the ‘making it look like a terrorist attack’ scenario.”
Neil ran his hand through his hair once more. “While knowing Nancy wasn’t the target should make me feel better, the heebie-jeebies I’ve had from the onset of this case won’t go away.”
Todd nodded. “The SWAT team left this morning, so things are more or less back to normal here at the hospital. I know the staff’s happy about that.”
“I’m sure they are, but I won’t feel comfortable until someone comes up with answers to all the unanswered questions. The more I go over what we’ve got, the less it adds up.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve racked my brain over it, too,” Todd said, polishing his head once more. “This might make you feel better. The Coast Guard found a floater last night, just outside the harbor. They figure he’s been in the water about three weeks. Looks like someone tried to anchor him down, but whoever tied the knot didn’t know what they were doing. It’s amazing the sharks didn’t get him. BPD think it might be the guy Snakebite shot.”
“Why do they think that?”
“The coroner had a quick look at him. The Brachial artery was nicked, and he figures the guy bled out. He’s sent samples off to match the DNA they found in the back of that van.”
Neil pursed his lips. “Have they got enough face for a search?”
“Yeah, but so far he’s not showing up anywhere.”
He sighed. “Not much help then. Anything else?”
“Not yet. It does confirm a getaway by boat and an outside job. The police commissioner and the mayor are holding a joint press conference at noon. The city’s been a powder keg since this happened, and they hope this information will defuse it once and for all.”
“Let’s hope they’re right.” Neil reached for his cup of coffee.
“I’ll be back as soon as she boards.” Todd headed toward the door.
“Take your time. Nancy’s scheduled for an MRI later this morning. While she’s down there. I’ll go for another run.”
He nodded and left the room.
Neil settled back down in his usual place. He’d never be able to thank Meredith and Todd for what they’d done these last few weeks. Leaning over, he touched Nancy’s hand, caressing the soft skin. She would be pleased to see how long her nails had grown. Meredith had given her a manicure yesterday. It had been quite a personal triumph when she’d finally stopped biting them five years ago, just before their wedding, but even then, with her love of gardening, she was always bemoaning the dirt under her fingernails. He continued to hold her hand. It was warmer now, and he took that to be a good sign.
“So, you heard Todd. What do you think of this floater, honey?”
He’d gotten into the habit of discussing various aspects of the case with her. Self-talk had never been his particular way of problem solving, but it had its advantages. Imagining Nancy’s sometimes pithy comments often put things into perspective.
“If he is one of the men responsible for this, he got off easy, but if there’s a hell, he’ll spend eternity paying for his crimes.”
He looked up and out the window, looking for answers in the sky and the clouds he saw there, but he knew he would never find any.
“I wish I were the one after these guys. I still can’t figure it out. Who sends a death squad in to execute a man without knowing exactly what he looks like? There are so many things in this attack that point to pros, but just as many of them scream amateur all the way, and what the hell does Sticky-Fingers Fred have to do with it all? Sure, no one likes to get scammed, but to kill and injure so many ... I still can’t get my head around murdering all the staff. It’s not like the dishwasher could have anything to do with this—the owner, maybe, he was the head chef—but the others? It’s as if we have a brand new team of executioners out there who don’t have a clue as to what they’re doing. The thought they’ll strike again terrifies me.”
The door opened, and he turned around quickly, his hand on his gun. A blonde nurse he hadn’t seen before came into the room. She reminded him of an East-German Olympic track team member from the Seventies and Eighties, the ones who were built more like men than women. He’d bet she had to shave each day, and he didn’t mean her legs.
The woman stepped back, surprised to see him there, especially when h
er gaze zeroed in on his weapon, but she recovered her aplomb quickly. Everyone had put in hours of overtime and now that things were back to normal, it made sense they’d be giving the overworked staff time off.
“Good morning. No one told me Ms. Frost had company. I’m here to give her a bath and change her dressings. I can come back later, it you like,” she said, her voice softly accented. Maybe he wasn’t as far off as he thought.
“Won’t matter.” He chuckled, not at her, but at his ridiculous assumption. Not everyone who was muscular did steroids. “I’m pretty much a permanent fixture around here. Go ahead and do what you have to do.”
She smiled. “Then, I have to ask you to leave. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Not a problem,” he answered. “You’re earlier than usual, but I guess that’s because of her tests later this morning.”
He smiled and stood, getting ready to give her and Nancy the privacy the nurse requested. He hated leaving her in anyone’s care but Doris’, but even she had to have time off.
* * *
Nancy floated out of the grayness once more, anticipating the pain that accompanied her waking moments, surprised when it wasn’t as crippling as it had been. The familiar beeps and blips of the machines she’d noticed attached to her continued as always. No doubt they registered her pulse and her heart beat. The automatic tightening on her arm told her the machine was taking her blood pressure. She knew she’d been seriously injured, the pain proved that, but how or when it had happened were beyond her.
Two people were speaking. She easily recognized Neil’s voice, but the woman’s was unfamiliar. She’d awakened at least a half-dozen times, and each time she did, he was the one by her side. Sometimes it was dark, at others, light, but he was the constant. While having Neil here each time was comforting, the fact that her mother wasn’t made no sense. She should be back from her cruise by now. The ship had sailed only a couple of days before she’d left for Vermont.
Neil reached for her hand, and she fought to keep her eyes closed, not yet ready to face him. She was still too muddled to think logically.
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