by Debra Webb
Hank’s jaw tightened. I’d never seen him looking this defensive. Part of me felt guilty for bringing up a past he clearly didn’t want to rehash and for ruining his vacation. But another part, the more rational one, was mad as hell at his attitude about Disposable. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. And somehow he was a part of the conspiracy to hide details.
“I figured you’d learned that much by now,” he allowed. “Bob Fraley called me and told me what you were up to. I got back here as fast as I could.” He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Turned out to be more difficult than I’d expected.”
Well that explained why Bob had behaved so peculiarly. He obviously knew this case would mean trouble. I just didn’t comprehend how or why. However much trouble it was, Warren Rayburn deserved to have his name cleared. I needed to make that happen. And whoever was behind these latest murders needed to go down once and for all.
“How did you learn about my brother’s involvement?”
Hank’s gaze slid to Dawson. “Have a seat and we’ll talk.”
Dawson didn’t give in right away. Even after Hank sat down he stood there ten maybe fifteen seconds before relenting. I settled onto the edge of my desk, but remained poised to intervene if the need arose. I had always seen my uncle and my father as heroes. Everything about this case felt wrong. I needed to hear something right. I needed to be able to squash the dread mounting way too fast. I didn’t like where it felt like this was going.
“Your father started getting pressured to find a way to throw out the case.”
“By whom?” Dawson and I asked the question in chorus. We exchanged a fleeting glance but neither of us wanted to miss any nuance of what my uncle would say next.
“The mayor. The city council. Anonymous notes. Masters and Reagan were powerful men in this city. They weren’t going to go down without a fuss. It’s one thing to blame the drug and border problems on a Mexican cartel, but accusing men like Masters and Reagan was a whole other shooting match.”
I didn’t doubt that. Texans were fiercely loyal to one another, even when they shouldn’t be.
“Rayburn had stayed undercover until the very end in hopes of nailing the dirty official facilitating these guys, but the day before jury selection was to end he broke protocol and called me with a warning.”
My heart rate picked up a few extra beats in anticipation.
“Rayburn risked his cover to warn me that a hit had been ordered. On you, Jackie.”
My mouth fell open, but I was speechless. Why would anyone order a hit on me? I’d barely gotten the idea of my agency off the ground at that point. Hadn’t made any enemies yet.
“If,” Hank went on, “that didn’t make your father do what they wanted Steven was supposed to be next.”
Ice slid through my veins. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look at Dawson though I felt his gaze on me.
“My guess is,” Hank continued, “Rayburn was the one who was supposed to take you out. As best I could figure Reagan and Masters were still doing business from their jail cells. When Rayburn failed to do as ordered he probably signed his own death warrant.”
I pushed off my desk. Struggled to keep some semblance of perspective. “Are you saying he died because of me?”
Hank rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then sighed. “In part. I think he was supposed to make the hit on you when the charges against Masters and Reagan weren’t dropped by a certain time. When the plan went to hell the suspects in custody and anyone else who could tell the tale were eliminated. With Rayburn and the others out of the way, there was no one to blame. Just a bunch of dead folks and a missing DEA agent who may or may not have gone over to the other side.”
“What about McElroy?” I tossed out. “Was his death suicide like The Chronicle said or was he part of the clean-up too?”
“We found no evidence to rule out suicide. But I can’t be completely certain.”
Denial fired through my blood. “I don’t understand how this could have happened. You were the lead investigator. I saw the case file.” I didn’t have to spell it out, he would know I meant the shoddy reports and the lack of follow-up work. What the devil had he been covering up? How the hell did someone get away with ordering all those executions? With killing all those illegals—humans no matter their citizenship status? Wasn’t anyone doing their job?
“Jackie,” Hank heaved a heavy breath “you have to believe I did what I could. But, in those last few hours, your safety took precedence.”
I trembled with the emotions welling inside me...he was purposely leaving out pertinent information. No matter how much I wanted to believe him, I could feel the weight of omission. What did he have to hide? “I was safe because I was with Warren Rayburn that night,” I told him in case he didn’t know. “All night.”
Dawson abruptly rocketed to his feet and stormed out. I barely suppressed the urge to go after him. But he needed some space. His brother was dead because of me. Had sacrificed his life for me...for my son. And I hadn’t even known his name.
“Damn you, Hank.” I stared angrily at my uncle. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why aren’t you telling me everything now?”
Whatever he said in response didn’t register. Too many other details came flooding into focus at once. This was why my father had changed. The timing coincided with the divorce so I’d always associated the two. Now I knew differently. The scariest part of being a parent had come home to Jack Mercer. He’d turned overprotective and secretive in hopes of keeping me safe. Just like my mother always said.
No wonder he’d urged Hank to go into the PI business with me when he retired. Another aspect of what my uncle had just said rushed over me like a stampede of spooked cattle.
“The two of you didn’t do anything to protect Rayburn.” The statement hung in the air with an impending doom both he and I fully understood. All thoughts of unexplained gaps in police work fell into insignificance.
The look on Hank’s face said it all. No, they hadn’t. He and my father had taken Rayburn’s warning and let him face the consequences alone.
“We did exactly as Rayburn instructed,” Hank countered though his voice held no real conviction. “He didn’t want to blow his cover if he could help it. If there was any chance he could stay put, he wanted to do that in hopes of finishing what he’d come here to do.”
I felt torn...unable to process this much emotion-shattering information at once. “I don’t want to hear any more of your sidestepping, Hank.”
He stood, his emotions, like mine, barely contained. “Jackie, you have to know we did all we could. It was out of our control...way over our heads.”
Maybe they had. This was all too fresh to consider objectively just now.
But one thing was certain. Brooks had been involved and since he was one of only two known variables in all of this, he would be the focus of my investigation from this moment on. Brooks and my uncle. Possibly even Chief Cates. He had to have known what his detective was working on. Considering what I’d just learned about my own father and my uncle, I didn’t trust anyone.
“Is there any chance Cates was involved?” I demanded on the heels of that thought. Hank visibly winced at the ferocity of my words. I refused to regret it.
He shook his head. “He was aware of my assignment, but not much else. The task force leader kept him out of the loop.”
“How can you be so sure?” What he said brought up another issue. “Who was the task force leader? McElroy?”
The pain in Hank’s eyes fixed on mine. “HPD wasn’t dirty,” he said soberly. “And, yes, McElroy was the task force leader and he still got dead the same as all the rest.” He held up both hands to waylay my response. “Jackie, this is dangerous business. Disposable left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth ten years ago. No one wants it resurrected. This border business is already way out of control. Dredging up ugly history will only add to the political turmoil. Your friend Dawson has stirred up a hornet’s nest. Both of you need t
o back off and let me handle this. Cates and I can work together and—”
“Like you did before? Everyone is dead but you and Brooks,” I argued, knowing the words would hit their mark.
Defeat sagged Hank’s shoulders. “Think what you will. I did my job. Anything else was to protect you.”
And here we stood...only slightly closer to the truth...and a huge yawning chasm of hurt cutting me off from the man who’d been like a second father to me.
“I at least want in on your investigation,” Hank said. “I know more about the case than anyone else. You need me.”
Maybe he did, but he sure as hell wasn’t sharing it. Of all people, he knew how I hated deception. “You’re right. I do need you. And I need Dawson,” I stated for the record.
His guard went up again but not before I saw the reluctance or something along those lines flare in his eyes. “I don’t know about him,” he countered. “He could have gotten you killed going about this the way he did.”
I thought of the snake and the cemetery incident and knew he might be right. But that didn’t change what I had to do. And just like that I suddenly knew what my next step had to be.
“We’ll do this my way,” I stated with no room for rebuttal. “No deviations.” With that clear I left him to stew on my terms while I walked directly out to my assistant’s desk. “Which way did he go?”
Hobbs jerked his head toward the entrance from the building’s main lobby. “He’s just standing there staring out at the street.” He sighed dramatically. “He must be suffering immense anguish because there isn’t anything on the street worth more than a minute’s attention.”
I took off my jacket and left it on the closest chair, a throwing off of some of my armor, so to speak. Well, that and the camisole was sexy as hell, made me feel damn good about how I looked. I hadn’t completely forgotten about the supermodel. I never could ignore a challenge. I took a deep breath and walked out the door to join Dawson in the otherwise empty lobby.
He didn’t look at me as I approached. Not that I blamed him. Saying I’m sorry wasn’t nearly good enough. I wasn’t sure there was anything I could say that would make a difference, but I had to say something.
“Your brother saved my life.”
Dawson looked at me then, the weight of a decade’s worth of pain etched on that handsome face. “Yeah. I guess he did.”
From day one I’d felt a connection to Dawson. Not in a gazillion years would I have ever guessed...this. Fate had one hell of a sense of humor.
Dawson rounded on me then, fury beating back the hurt I’d seen only seconds before. “I’m gonna get Brooks. I know it’s him.” He jerked his head toward the office. “And your uncle knows more than he’s telling.”
He was right about Brooks and probably my uncle too, but we had to go about this rationally. “We can’t be sure of anything yet. We have to be very, very careful or we’ll screw this up. We don’t have that many options.”
Dawson pointed that rapidly building fury at me. “Fuck that. I want Brooks. I’ll beat the truth out of him.”
“And what will that accomplish? You can’t use coerced testimony in court.”
“It won’t matter, because he’ll be dead.”
Okay, that was scary. “And you’ll go to prison and then we’ll never know for sure who was really behind the order for your brother’s execution.”
That declaration appeared to give him pause. At least I was making some headway.
“We have to do this the right way,” I urged. For the first time since I’d received that photo I felt we had a real chance at solving this enigma that nobody wanted to talk about. I was hyped for the job. I wanted to get this done.
Dawson squeezed his eyes shut and allowed what was no doubt another tide of fierce rage to pass. “How?” he demanded when his gaze locked with mine once more.
I smiled, my confidence soaring as a plan took shape in my mind. “Trust me, Dawson. I’ve never failed to get what I wanted from a man when I set my mind to it. And Brooks,” I added tartly, “is a man.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Saturday evening at seven p.m. the girls gathered at my place. I’d had a few hours to consider what I had to do and, for this, I needed the help of my gal pals.
“Okay, Jackie, how can we help you?” Mary Jane stared up at me expectantly her eyes made even bigger by the thick lens of her glasses. She’d made herself at home on one end of the sofa.
Shari had staked a claim on the velvet slipper chair. She’d made the drinks, JD and Coke. Donna occupied the end of the sofa opposite Mary Jane.
“First.” Donna held up her glass to garner everyone’s attention. She looked especially good tonight in her black jeans and vintage beaded cashmere sweater held together by a simple clasp between her breasts. Very chic. “I’m going to be a selfish bitch,” she said petulantly. “We’ve been waiting to hear about the date with Tony.” She directed that analyzing gaze at me. “Come clean and then we’ll get down to business.”
I suddenly wished for a cigar and poker cards. Anything to occupy my hands and to avoid this subject. “This isn’t confession night,” I argued. I still had forty-eight hours for someone besides me to royally screw up.
Shari uncrossed her legs with as much fanfare as Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct and stood, taking control of the floor. She obviously had a late date after this, faded jeans and a cream silk camisole with silver lace trim gloved her body like someone had screen printed it on her skin. She looked like a movie star. A very sexy one. I felt way under dressed in my Cowboys tee and hole-in-the-knee jeans (which, by the way, had not come that way from the GAP—I’d earned that hole on my knees searching through mountains of files on various cases).
“I,” Shari said when she felt certain all attention focused on her, “want to know why you haven’t told us about the cemetery incident.”
Three sets of eyes bored into me and synchronized do tell’s echoed. The round-eyed naive act was too much. They already suspected that, no matter what any of them did during the next forty-eight hours, I was the one.
“Just give me the fucking prize and be done with it,” I snapped.
Giggles erupted. I scarcely held back my own when I really thought about it. It wasn’t every day a girl got buried alive.
“Come on, Jackie, don’t be a beotch,” Donna cooed with a wink. “Tell, tell. You know Hobbs will if you don’t.”
I asked myself every day why I let him live. Irritation shrunk faster than a hard-on after a cold shower. No point in working up a head of steam. I always ended up forgiving the ratfink. I had to. I depended on him for way too much to pretend otherwise.
I chugged down a healthy slug of JD and Coke and wiped my mouth. I curled up in the chair opposite Shari and told them the story they wanted to hear without leaving out so much as a single detail, well except for the dead woman. I still wasn’t prepared to share Disposable with them, too dangerous. I kind of understood just a little about how Warren Rayburn must have felt when he’d talked to his partner before disappearing. There was only so much I could risk letting them in on.
I’d spent the whole day after Dawson’s revelations and Hank’s return deciding how to handle what needed to be done. There were two things I needed to do and I couldn’t do both without a little help from my friends.
Dead silence radiated in the air for what felt like forever when I finished relating my story.
Donna was the first to recover. “Oh, my God! Are you sure you’re okay?” Incredibly, she actually looked concerned.
“To hell with that,” Shari blurted out, “you made this guy come while he still had his clothes on? Oh, my God!”
Mary Jane sat perfectly still with her lower jaw somewhere in the vicinity of her lap.
“I’m fine,” I said to Donna, and “Yes,” in answer to Shari.
When Mary Jane still didn’t speak, I winced. “You okay?”
She snapped her mouth shut and nodded before quickly jumping up to get my
prize.
Until she sat that shiny white bag in my lap I hadn’t questioned why they had brought along the faux pas award tonight. Suspicion narrowed my gaze. “Tell me you didn’t already know this story.” I looked from one to the other, all blinking like innocent little Bambis suddenly caught in a hunter’s spotlight.
“We didn’t.” Shari was the first to fess up. “I only knew the gist of it because I wrangled it out of Hobbs when I called to see how your date with Tony went. But we did already know about Tony.”
“He called,” Donna explained, her tone less than sympathetic. “Claimed you ran out on him after he’d been so nice to you.” She made a rude noise in her throat. “Apparently he thought you owed him since he fed you. He needs to get real and find a good shrink.”
My shock must have been showing for Mary Jane waved her hand to get my attention. “I thought something luxurious would make you feel better after putting up with that poop head.”
Well, Tony had definitely been a poop head. “Thanks, girls. Just promise me one thing.” I surveyed the well-meaning group. “No more blind dates.”
Promises flew from the lips of all and I knew they would abide by that promise at least until we’d all forgotten about this latest disaster.
The award bag contained a set of the newest scents from our favorite bath and body store. I hugged all three and then chilled out long enough to have a second drink. The conversation moved to the mundane, which was nice for a change, but didn’t last long. I had business with these girls, they understood that.
“So, what’s up?” Donna ventured when we were all feeling warm and cozy. “Is this about your mystery man?”
“I still can’t talk about him yet,” I said, hoping they wouldn’t be too disappointed. “But I do need your help. Besides,” I grinned, “I just love your company.”
“If you say time with us is better than sex,” Donna challenged, “I’ll have to take your temperature.”