Locked in Temptation

by Brenda Jackson

  “We want to know what this is about, Lieutenant,” Brett Carrington said with agitation in his voice. “My wife is under a lot of stress, which I hope you can understand. She just lost her brother in a brutal attack. What are you doing to find his killer?”

  Joy joined the couple at the table. “We’re doing all we can, which is why we asked you here. And I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Carrington.”

  Rachel Carrington dabbed the tears from puffy eyes. “Thanks, and Brett and I were hoping you asked us here to tell us you’ve found the person responsible for taking my brother away from me.”

  “No, that’s not why you’re here. I need to ask questions I’m hoping will provide leads that will help us solve the case,” Joy said, taking out her electronic notepad.

  “But I don’t know what we can tell you, Lieutenant,” Rachel said. More tears fell, and Brett Carrington handed his wife another tissue.

  “When was the last time you talked to your brother, Mrs. Carrington?”

  “A couple of days ago. He called to let us know he had returned to town. He’d been in Seattle attending a seminar.”

  “Did he call you during the time he was in Seattle?” Joy asked her.

  She nodded. “Yes, he called to check on us and Chasta.”

  “Chasta?”

  “Our daughter.”

  Joy shifted in her chair. “Do you know any of your brother’s friends?”

  “Of course,” Rachel said as if the question was rather silly. “I know all his friends.”

  “Could you provide us with their names?”

  Rachel frowned. “Why? Surely you don’t think any of them are responsible for what happened. Someone tried to rob him and—”

  “We have no reason to believe it was robbery, Mrs. Carrington. His wallet with his money and credit cards were still on him.”

  “Maybe they got scared and left before they could take his wallet,” Brett Carrington said, as if that possibility made sense. It didn’t, but Joy decided not to say so. Instead she typed into her notepad the names Rachel was giving her.

  “What about a woman in his life?”

  “No, he hasn’t been in a serious relationship for a long while.”

  “What about Dr. Kelly Langley?”

  “What about Dr. Langley?” Rachel asked, looking confused. “I know she was killed in a break-in at her medical complex last week.”

  “Yes, that’s right. And you know Dr. Langley?”

  “Yes, she’s the one who referred us to Beautiful Creations. I don’t understand. Why would you ask me about Dr. Langley? I thought you wanted to know about the people associated with my brother.”

  “I do. Your brother and Dr. Langley were involved in a romantic relationship.”

  Rachel frowned. “That’s not true. They didn’t even know each other. In fact he called the day after Dr. Langley was killed, and I was upset about it. He asked me what was wrong and I told him about it. That was the first time I ever mentioned Dr. Langley to him. I told him how she died and that Dr. Langley was instrumental in helping Brett and me feel comfortable enough to do the embryo transfer procedure.”

  Joy didn’t say anything as she continued to type in her notes. She did recall Anderson Hopkins claimed he hadn’t known about Dr. Langley’s death until they’d told him. He’d evidently lied to them.

  “Why are you making assertions that aren’t true?” Brett asked in an aggrieved tone.

  Joy looked back and forth between the couple before saying, “I haven’t done that. Dr. Langley and Anderson Hopkins were involved in a secret affair and had been for well over a year.”

  Joy saw anger flare in Rachel Carrington’s eyes. “Who told you such a thing?”

  Joy leaned back in her chair. “Your brother did. My partner and I paid him a visit two days ago. We had already done our own investigation, and he admitted to the affair. He told us about it and why they kept it a secret.”

  The Carringtons stared at her in total shock.

  * * *

  JEROME POST GLANCED over at Ike Conyers when he returned to the car. “I assume Effington has been taken care of.”

  “Yes. He didn’t see it coming. Figured we would be putting him in a safe place until everything blew over like you claimed.”

  “The fool.”

  “Yeah,” Conyers said. “It will be a couple of days before they find his body. So what’s next?”

  “Next we handle that female detective. She saw us today, and if she makes a connection and links me to Murphy Erickson’s death, that won’t be good for the boss man.”

  “When do we make the hit?” Conyers wanted to know.

  Post threw down his cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe. “Tonight.”

  * * *

  “SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Sanchez asked her. He had been party to her interview of the Carringtons through the one-way glass.

  “I honestly don’t think they had a clue. And now they are worried,” Joy said.

  Sanchez raised a brow. “About what?”

  “Whether her brother’s association with Dr. Langley had anything to do with their daughter.”

  Sanchez leaned forward in his chair toward Joy’s desk. “Are you saying that you think their baby is Mandy Clay’s missing child?”

  Joy tossed a paper clip on her desk. “I think so. Same age.”

  After the shock had worn off with the Carringtons, she’d asked if they’d met the woman who’d been their surrogate. They’d said no and then refused to answer any more questions. Evidently they were beginning to wonder what was going on and what part their daughter played, as well.

  “I’m going to get a judge to order a DNA test to see if the Carringtons’ daughter is somehow connected to Mandy Clay,” Joy said.

  She checked her watch. “Still no word on the whereabouts of Effington?”

  “No. And that judge hasn’t approved our request for a search warrant for Beautiful Creations yet. I guess he’s trying to tread lightly on this one.”

  Joy had presented the judge with what she thought was a strong case. Mandy Clay was not registered with any legal surrogate agency, nor were there any records of her having given birth in any of the area hospitals. And yet, from the autopsy, they knew she had been a surrogate and had given birth. Joy now suspected this had been done through back channels, possibly against Mandy’s will, given the way she died, as though she were running from something. Or someone.

  Mandy Clay’s name wasn’t in any of Dr. Langley’s records. Would her name be in records belonging to Beautiful Creations? More than anything Joy needed to see who the woman listed as the Carringtons’ surrogate was.

  There was a knock on her office door, and Taren came in smiling. “It’s late but I figured you would still be here. Here’s that report on the couple you ask me to research. The one living in Sofia Valley.”

  Joy remembered the couple. The Dunmores. “Thanks.”

  Sanchez intercepted the file. “You have enough to read, Lieutenant. Besides, it will give me something to do.”

  Joy nodded. Sanchez had told her his wife had taken the baby to visit her parents for a couple of days in Alexandria.

  “Okay, I wouldn’t want you to be bored at home alone,” she said, smiling. “And you’re right. I have those files from Dr. Langley’s office I’m still going through.” She was trying to make a connection with those referred couples. Acklin had visited with half of them. All the ones he’d interviewed had met their surrogates beforehand, but the surrogates had not wanted them in the delivery room. The babies had been given to them within hours of the birth. They’d been told a private delivery was the surrogates’ preference.

  “Still no word on the whereabouts of Oliver Effington?” Taren asked.

  “No. Uniformed officers are stil
l out there looking.” Joy didn’t have to tell them she suspected the worst, the way this case was going. Two dead bodies—Dr. Kelly Langley, Anderson Hopkins—both connected to each other and Beautiful Creations. And now the CEO of Beautiful Creations was missing.

  At that moment the phone rang. She immediately picked it up. “This is Lieutenant Ingram.”

  It was Detective Acklin. “Just thought I’d let you know, we might have a lead on something. Three of the couples we interviewed agreed to provide a description of their surrogates. Sounds like the same woman.”

  “For all three?”

  “Yes. But that couldn’t be possible since the couples’ babies were supposedly born within days or weeks of each other,” Acklin supplied.

  “A fake surrogate?” He was confirming her suspicions.

  “Pretty much looks like it,” Acklin said. “I will keep you posted.”

  “Thanks.” Joy clicked off the phone and relayed the information.

  “A fake surrogate? Taren asked, surprised.

  “Seems so. I wonder who the actual surrogates were, and where are they? This makes me even more suspicious of Beautiful Creations since none of the couples interviewed were allowed in the delivery room to see who was actually giving birth to their babies,” Joy said, rubbing a hand down her face.

  She glanced at her watch. It was close to ten at night. She hadn’t realized it was so late and hoped Stonewall had eaten somewhere without her.

  Sanchez stood with the file tucked under his arm. “I hope you’re about to leave this place for the night like the rest of us,” he said to Joy.

  “I guess so. I wanted to wait around to see if Acklin’s lead produces anything.”

  “He’ll call you if it does. You need to get some rest. Need a lift since you don’t have your car?”

  She thought about Sanchez’s offer. It would save Stonewall from having to come pick her up and drop her off at home. But a part of her wanted to see Stonewall. A part of her needed to see him. “Thanks, but I have a ride.”

  Sanchez looked at her. “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  After Sanchez and Taren left her office she called Stonewall. He picked up on the first ring. “You ready, baby?”

  Baby. Did he really think of her as his baby or was it just a casual term of endearment? “Yes, but are you sure you want to come? It’s late, and I can get another car from the pool and—”

  “I’m already here. Been waiting.”

  Now she really felt bad. “For how long?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re worth the wait.”

  Joy wished he wouldn’t say stuff like that. Comments that could make her pulse kick and send an instant flash of lust through her body. It was lust, right? What else could it be? She forced other possibilities from her mind. “Thanks. Give me five minutes to lock up my office, and I’ll be right on out.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  STONEWALL GOT OUT of the car, straightened his body and stretched. He’d passed the time sitting in the car by talking with Striker and Quasar. Both had Dalton stories. Everyone had something amusing to say about how Dalton was handling being the father of twins. Now that the shock had worn off, he was in normal Dalton mode. Names for the twins hadn’t yet been released. Everybody figured Dalton would be making a big production of that.

  Stonewall checked his watch. Joy said five minutes, but he thought he’d head over to meet her and walk with her. He’d tried staying busy most of the day and had even paid a visit to his grandmother and his sister, who were getting ready for the Fourth of July cookout in a few days. Yet Joy had never been too far from his thoughts.

  He enjoyed being with her and loved everything about her. Her scent. The way she would roll her eyes when she thought he was handing her a bunch of bull about something. The way she would tilt her head whenever she was paying close attention to what he said.

  Stonewall could have gone on and on, but really didn’t need to. He recalled dropping her off at work after their morning chase. She had been in her element, pursuing those guys with her Glock firmly held in her hands. What he’d told her was the truth. It had been a total turn-on to watch her.

  If he could have done the forever thing, she would have been the one who headed the list. Hell, she would have been the only one on the list. He could never forget when his grandparents had sat him and Mellie down to explain their parents were never coming back. He’d hated hurricanes for years after that and would cringe whenever the weather channel announced there was one stirring in the Atlantic, the Gulf or the Pacific.

  Shoving painful memories to the back of his mind, he crossed the street and began walking down the sidewalk. It was a beautiful night. Great weather. Full moon. Bright stars. Several uniformed officers were coming in and out of police headquarters.

  He figured Joy hadn’t eaten and would be hungry. There was this restaurant that served pretty good food that didn’t close until one.

  His training as a security expert made him check across the street. He stopped walking and studied the car parked there. There was nothing eye-catching about it, just a light-colored sedan. But it was running. He wouldn’t have found that odd had it been winter and cold outside. Why was the driver wasting gas that way?

  He shrugged his shoulders, thinking, to each his own. He switched his gaze back toward the entrance and saw Joy the minute she walked out. A feeling in the pit of his stomach had him turning his attention away from her to that car again.

  That’s when he saw it. The driver had rolled the window down, and Stonewall could see what looked like the barrel of a gun aimed out of it. Aimed right at Joy.

  She had seen him coming toward her and was smiling. As loud as his voice could carry, he screamed, “Get down, Joy,” the exact moment a shot was fired from the car.

  He hadn’t realized how quickly he could pull his own gun. He fired several shots at the person who’d had the fucking nerve to shoot at Joy. The car sped away, but he was certain he’d made a hit.

  With his heart pounding in his chest, he raced to where Joy was. A crowd had gathered around her, and he couldn’t tell if she’d been hit. Had his warning been in time? Suddenly several cops surrounded him with their guns drawn and ordered him to drop his weapon and put his hands up. He complied, while trying to explain what happened.

  He wanted to go to Joy, but the cops ordered him not to move.

  Then he heard Joy’s loud, angry voice. “Put your guns down now!” she ordered the uniformed officers. “He saved my life.”

  The cops lowered their guns as ordered. He put his hands down but no one returned his gun to him. He would deal with that later. Right now he had to get to Joy. He rushed over to her and, not caring that they had an audience, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight while ignoring the questions being thrown out at them by the police officers.

  “I’m okay, Stonewall,” she said, pulling herself out of his arms. “Thank you for the warning. You probably saved my life.” Then, without catching her breath, she asked him, “Did you get a make of the vehicle?”

  It took a second for it to sink in what she was asking him. His woman had nearly gotten herself killed, and she was back to business. Back to her professional mode. Like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t come close to losing her life. Why? Just so she wouldn’t appear weak in front of her men? “Well, did you, Stonewall?”

  Her words cut into his muddled mind. “No. Yes.” Then drawing in an irritated breath, he said, “Yes. It was a light-colored sedan.”

  “Did you get a look at the occupants?”

  He stared at Joy a minute. “No. And are you sure you’re alright?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Well, dammit, I’m not. Let’s go inside now.”

  She nodded. “Okay, let’s go insi
de. We’ll need to give statements.”

  * * *

  “ARE YOU SURE you’re okay, Conyers?”

  Post was certain Conyers had taken a hit. He just didn’t know where and how serious it was. Conyers was still driving, but Post noticed him shivering and having a hard time staying in his lane. He couldn’t take a chance the man would end up killing them both. “Pull over and let me drive.”

  They were on the outskirts of town and luckily there was not another car on this stretch of road. Conyers had to be bad off because he didn’t argue the point. When Post got out and went around to the driver’s side of the car, he saw Conyers had taken a hit and it didn’t look good.

  Conyers struggled to slide over and somehow managed to do so. Post got in and started driving. There would be a doctor where they were going, and he hoped like hell he got there in time. Once he had Conyers taken care of, he would go back after the woman if she was still alive.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “AND YOU’RE SURE you’re okay, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, Chief. I’m fine.” Joy remembered another time the chief had asked her something similar. It was a few months ago when she’d almost been poisoned. Now, fast-forward. Another day. Another case. Like before, a part of her hated that she was the center of so much attention. However, at the same time she was grateful to be alive. Mainly because of the man quietly sitting in the corner with his long legs stretched out in front of him, staring at her.

  It was hard to stay focused and not stare back. Evidently it didn’t matter to him that she was in a building full of cops and, at the moment, safe. Obviously he felt the need to keep his eyes on her, as well. She wished she could tell everyone else to go away and cross the room and curl up in his lap for him to hold her for a minute. She drew in a deep breath, wondering when she had gotten so needy. So dependent on a man to feel secure.

  “Well, I want you to go home and stay there. There’s a lot we need to sort out here. Namely, why someone would take a shot at you. You’re evidently onto something.”