Extreme Measures

by Rachel Carrington

  “Only one way to find out, and we need to get out of here anyway. Your aunt might have some old lady friends who pay her a visit every afternoon. God knows mine did.” His bony shoulders shuddered.

  Stuart didn’t like dealing with uncertainties. “We’re not driving to hell and back without knowing for sure that my dear, sweet sister still lives in Charleston." He headed into the kitchen where the slim line black phone sat on the counter. Just like his aunt to hold staunch to her aversion for modern technology. He was surprised she didn’t still use the telegraph.

  Arlin followed him. "Who you trying to call?”

  "Directory assistance.”

  “Doubt your sister’s going to have a listed number.” Arlin snorted at the thought.

  “Didn’t say I was calling for my sister’s number.” Stuart wanted to kick his cellmate’s teeth in. How long had it been since his last fix? No wonder he was getting so jittery.

  “Oh.” Arlin scratched his head with a lengthy fingernail. “Then who?”

  “I know where she worked before she left New York, and I’m betting there’s at least one busybody there who knows a little about what Erin’s been up to since she left.”

  “And you think they’re going to talk to her brother, the murderer?” After asking the question, Arlin laughed till he coughed.

  Stuart glared at him, the urge to kick him growing stronger. “No one knew me there. They’ve never heard my voice. I doubt they’ll automatically assume it’s her brother calling, especially when I tell them about her dear old Aunt Felicia who has passed on.” He jerked his head toward the front door. “Now go check the garage and see if Felicia still has that battered old station wagon she’s had since the fifties. I’ll take care of this.”

  Once Arlin slumped out the door, Stuart curled his fingers around the phone receiver and took several deep breaths. Odds were good he was going to add one more body to his count before the end of the day.

  Arlin just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Three

  It shouldn’t bother Matt that Erin didn’t have any pictures of their life together displayed anywhere in her apartment. But it did. Eight years of marriage had disappeared like it had never happened. He didn’t have to ask if she carried a photo of him as he did her.

  He checked his watch, listened to the sound of water running. Once he’d unlocked the door, Erin had made her getaway, retreating to one of the back rooms and closing the door with a loud slam. Probably didn’t intend to come out any time soon.

  His gut in knots, he withdrew his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket and punched in the number for Jacob’s direct line. “I’m here.” He didn’t waste time with a greeting.

  “Good to know she hasn’t killed you.” Jacob grunted, sounding distracted.

  “Any news?”

  “I would have kept you in the loop.” A long pause then, “But that’s not what this call is about, is it? You thinking you should exit stage left?”

  Matt rubbed the back of his neck. Now was his chance for an out. He could walk away, let another agent take the reins. Just as quickly as the thought appeared, he pushed it away. He wouldn’t be able to focus on another assignment without knowing Erin was safe.

  “Your silence tells me that’s a yes,” Jacob’s drawled, his Texas roots thick in his voice.

  “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it, but I doubt Erin would be any more pleasant to my replacement.”

  “She might. You being there is bound to be dredging up some old memories.”

  “You knew that was a possibility when you sent me here. So why do it?” Matt barked at his boss without restraint.

  Leather squeaked in the background. Jacob still used the same chair his father had used when he’d run the unit. “I gave you the option. Figured I’d want someone to give me the choice if I was in the same situation.”

  He was right. Matt’s anger abated. “If Stuart stays on your predicted schedule, this won’t last long. Then Erin can get back to her life.”

  “And you can get back to mourning what used to be.”

  Matt took the cell phone away from his ear long enough to glare at it. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Jacob snorted. “You know exactly what it means, Matt. That divorce didn’t end the marriage for you. Maybe you should use this time to figure out what went wrong.”

  “You were a lousy marriage counselor then, and you haven’t gotten any better.” Matt ended the conversation and slung his cell phone onto the sofa he didn’t recognize. Apparently, Erin had replaced more than just pictures.

  Had she really gotten rid of everything that reminded her of their time together? He prowled the rest of the apartment to check. Finding not one scrap of furniture from their eight years together, he returned to the living room in an even fouler mood.

  This assignment was going to be tougher than he thought.

  “A coffee shop.” Stuart snorted. “Erin doesn’t even like the stuff.” He jammed the key into the ignition of his aunt’s rust-colored station wagon.

  “People change.” Arlin strapped the seatbelt around his lanky frame.

  Not his sister. He doubted Erin liked coffee any better. It was simply a ruse. The last place anyone who knew anything about her would look for her would be inside a coffee shop. And now she owned one.

  Erin’s “friend” Sandra had been too happy to divulge details of his sister’s new life once Stuart identified himself as her cousin. She hadn’t asked for more information. Of course, Stuart had poured on the charm even though it had made him slightly sick. He was used to getting information out of people by using his fists, but Sandra had practically purred in his ear when he’d started flirting with her.

  His upper lip curled. No doubt the woman was probably some overweight wife with three kids and a husband who ignored her. He shook away the image and focused on backing out of his aunt’s garage.

  “Don’t even think about driving straight through.” Arlin made the warning sound like a demand, and that set Stuart’s temper to boiling.

  “I’m making the decisions here.” Though he snapped each word at his cellmate, Arlin merely lifted his bony shoulders in a shrug.

  “I thought you was smarter than that. To think we shouldn’t get off the road for a while seeing as how we’re leaving behind a dead body. My mistake, though.” Arlin rolled down the window and spat out onto the concrete.

  Damn it. Stuart hated that the guy was right. Just when he was this close to finding his sister, could practically smell her perfume, he’d have to lay low for a few hours. Maybe grabbing some shuteye wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He did want to be at the top of his game when he came face to face with his dear, sweet sister again.

  Imagining the look on her face brought a chuckle. Would she be scared? Would she try to lecture him, tell him he needed to turn himself in? Yeah, that sounded like Erin. She’d think he’d listen to her, too.

  “Dumb bitch.” He didn’t even realize he’d muttered the words aloud until Arlin snickered. “What’s so funny?”

  “Just listening to you talk about the love you have for your sister.” Arlin touched his hand to his heart. “Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Been there. It’s called Attica, and unless you concentrate on getting this rolling boat off the street, we might end up right back there.”

  “Never.” Stuart shook his head so hard his ears rung. “I’m not going back there. I’d rather die first.” And that just might happen, but not before he took his sister with him.

  Her growling stomach finally forced Erin to emerge from the bedroom. Night had fallen, and Matt had already drawn the curtains and turned on the light in the kitchen, making himself at home.

  She caught a whiff of bacon, and her mouth watered. Matt had always been a great cook. In their first year of marriage, she’d gained close to ten pounds before she put a stop to the French cuisine he favored.

  Matt poked his hea
d out the open doorway of the kitchen. “I thought I heard the bear coming out of hibernation.” He’d removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. His shoulder holster remained firmly in place which didn’t surprise her. Matt always kept his weapon close at hand even when off-duty. “I was just making dinner.”

  She padded into the kitchen on bare feet, ignoring his gaze. “I had some things to do.” The enticing aroma of sautéed onions and mushrooms had her mouth watering.

  “I’m sure avoiding me was number one on that list.” He sounded casual enough, as though their earlier confrontation hadn’t even happened.

  She didn’t deny his assumption, choosing instead to peer around his shoulder. The fluffy omelet took up the entire skillet, and Erin’s stomach growled loudly, bringing a chuckle from Matt. Flushing, she backed away. “I’m just going to get something to drink and—”

  “Erin, you haven’t eaten all day. If you’re going to fight me at every turn, you’ll need to keep up your strength.”

  He slid the omelet from the pan to one of her china plates. The patterned rim had faded a little, but Erin still wondered if Matt would recognize it from their wedding set. Unable to ignore the demands of her body, she dropped to one of the café chairs at the round glass table. “I’m not trying to fight you, Matt.”

  He topped the omelet with the sauté mixture and carried the plate to the table to set it down in front of her. “Well, whatever it is you’re doing, you still need to eat.” Without asking, he retreated to the refrigerator, poured her a glass of orange juice, dug two ice cubes out of the freezer, and brought the juice to her. “Still like it with ice?”

  Her hand froze on the glass. Why would he remember something so small, so inconsequential? She had to nod because her tongue wouldn’t cooperate enough to produce speech.

  “So why an apartment? After the one we’d lived in when we first got married, you said you’d never live in another one.” Matt cracked another egg into the mixing bowl.

  Erin swallowed a bite of the omelet and tried not to sigh with pleasure. Her taste buds were ecstatic. “I wanted to live and work downtown. Houses are too expensive to rent, and when this apartment came open so close to the store, I counted myself lucky to get it first.”

  Matt poured the egg mixture into the pan. The liquid popped and hissed from the heat. “Well, this place is a definite improvement over the one we had.”

  Erin surprised herself by chuckling. She’d pushed that memory so far away it was almost like it hadn’t happened. But Matt’s reminder was like a time warp, and if she closed her eyes, she’d be right back in the middle of that seven-story walk up in the Bronx.

  The plumbing had only worked half the time, the heater almost never, and the neighbors below partied every night. The entire apartment could fit into the living room she had now, and the traffic had been a non-stop stream of blaring horns and revving engines. But it had been her first home with Matt, and they’d had some of the best moments of their marriage there.

  Matt carried a plate to the table and sat down across from her. “You remember that short guy with the dozen or so necklaces and the mood rings?”

  “Louie?” Erin smiled. “I remember he was always asking me out even though he knew I was married.”

  “He’s in the apartment now.” Matt shook a liberal amount of pepper onto the omelet.

  Erin lifted her gaze to study him. “How do you know?”

  “I ran into him at Margie’s Diner a few weeks ago.”

  She forgot all about eating. “You still go to the diner?” Open twenty-four hours, the small eatery had been their place of solitude late at night when they couldn’t sleep or the heater had given up altogether. The coffee had been hot and cheap, and she and Matt had always shared the back booth, spending most of the time laughing and talking about what life was going to be like when Matt got bumped up a pay grade or two.

  Matt laid his fork down. “Yeah. Margie asks about you on occasion.”

  Her eyes watered, and she quickly looked away. How many more painful memories was his presence going to bring up? “I didn’t think she’d even remember me.”

  “We lived in that neighborhood two years. Margie got used to seeing us practically every night.”

  “How often do you go there?” Erin knew she shouldn’t ask. Prolonging this discussion was only going to send them on a trip down memory lane, and they both knew where that would end. Her finger traced the rim of her glass as she waited for his answer.

  Matt took a sip of coffee. “A couple of times a week. The team likes to go since the coffee’s still only fifty cents a cup. Some of the guys are just starting out like I was back then.” The smile slid off his face, and he focused on the omelet, attacking it with his fork.

  Erin dabbed her mouth with a napkin and slid the chair away from the table. “I’m going to go take a shower.” She picked up her glass to carry it to the sink, but the handle of the terrace door rattling behind her took her mind off moving.

  Matt was on his feet in one fluid move. Placing one finger against his lips to silence her, he unsnapped his holster with the other hand.

  Her mouth so dry her tongue felt like a wad of cotton, she couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to. Fear rooted her to the spot, and Matt had to forcibly move her to one side. He slid past her, a lethal combination of muscles and power. She barely noticed the weapon he held in one hand, but the tense set of his jaw told her more than she wanted to know.

  “Get down.”

  The tone more than the words caused her to rock back on her heels and grasp the edge of the table. She saw his lips moving, but he might as well have been fifty miles away for all she heard.

  He jerked his hand toward the floor for emphasis. “Erin, get on the floor. Now.”

  The glass dropped from her numb hand, splintering when it connected with the marble floor. Crawling around the shards of glass, Erin sought shelter on the other side of the island, her heart pumping so fast she could barely hear Matt’s next move.

  She peeked around the corner in time to see his hand sliding up the wall next to the door to lower the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Erin gnawed her lower lip. Could he see someone? Every ounce of panic she’d felt when he’d mentioned Stuart’s name came rushing back.

  Had her brother really tracked her down? What if he had? He wouldn’t go back to prison easily. She might not have seen Stuart in several years, but he’d always been determined. If he wanted something…or someone…he wouldn’t give up without a fight.

  The terrace door opened with a creak. Erin covered her heart with one hand and squinted in an attempt to see through the darkness. Had Matt opened it? His hand hadn’t turned the knob, had it? Without a light, she could only make out shadows. But all the noises were magnified.

  A boot stepping on the metal rim of the door jamb. The heavy lurch of a foot connecting with the floor. And then the rustle of Matt’s starched white shirt seconds before he leaped forward to tackle the unknown visitor.

  Mumbled grunts and cries of pain made Erin crawl toward the living room, desperately searching for anything she could use as a weapon while she cursed Matt for not leaving the light on.

  Why hadn’t he just waited for the intruder to walk in and used his gun to keep him in abeyance until help could arrive? Why did he have to do everything the macho way?

  Spying the ornately carved owl she used as a book end, Erin scrambled to her feet and snatched it from the bookcase. She’d taken two steps back toward the kitchen when Matt’s voice froze her in her tracks.

  “Get to your feet slowly. Keep your hands above your head.”

  The light came on in the kitchen, and Erin clasped the owl to her chest while her legs wobbled.

  “Who the hell are you?” The bark of the words bounced off the walls.

  She peered around the corner, and her knees went weak with relief. A little uncoordinated, she half-walked, half-stumbled into the kitchen. “No, wait! It’s Hal, my next do
or neighbor.” Setting the owl on the table, she hurried forward, one hand touching Matt’s forearm.

  He lowered the gun only marginally. “Then what the hell is he doing opening your back door this late at night, and how in the hell did he get onto your balcony?”

  Hal’s shoulders shook, and his eyes behind the glass frames were huge and watery. “I was…I always,,,”

  Tucking his gun in the waistband of his slacks, Matt took hold of him and spun him around, his eyes seeming to dare the man to lie. “You always what? Are the two of you lovers?”

  Fury ignited inside of Erin, and she punched him in the arm. He barely flinched, though he did drop his gaze to her upturned face. “Let go of him, and it’s none of your business who I sleep with.”

  Hal’s eyes got even bigger, and he sucked in a breath that sounded more like a wheeze. “But we’re not. I mean, we don’t. She and I aren’t…” He stabbed his index finger toward his chest. “I’m just…”

  “You don’t have to explain to him.” Erin cut him short. Hal had never worked well under pressure, and the sight of Matt’s gun had already caused his face to break out in hives. “Now, I said let him go.” She tried to pry Matt’s fingers away from Hal’s shirt, but nothing short of dynamite was going to make her ex-husband let go.

  “Not until he tells me what the hell he’s doing here this late.”

  Erin bumped Matt’s side with her own, wishing she had a little more power behind it. “He has a key, and he knows he’s always welcome here. Hal, you were supposed to be out of town. What happened?”

  Matt’s hands fell away. “I don’t care what happened. The next time you decide to pay a late night visit, Hal,” the drawling emphasis made Erin’s blood boil, “you might want to try knocking first, especially if the light’s on.”