by Karis Walsh
Billie reached out and cupped Merissa’s cheek. “I felt so helpless when you were kidnapped. I can’t stand the thought of you being in danger when I’m unable to help.”
Merissa covered Billie’s hand with her own. “Then I’ll quit all this. I’ll give up searching for answers about the shooting. I won’t buy the firm.”
Billie pulled Merissa into a tight hug, and Merissa felt relief seep through her body as it curved to fit against Billie’s.
“No,” Billie said, her hand tangling in Merissa’s hair as she held her close. She pushed them apart with her hands on Merissa’s shoulders. “If we’re going to make it together, we both have to stop hiding from challenges. You are the kind of person who wants answers and who needs to find justice for Dennis. You’re also damned good at your job and deserve to be able to work where and how you want. No more running away.”
“You promise? It hurt to have you leave me.” Merissa rested her hands on Billie’s hips, wanting to trust even though she’d been hurt by her.
“I promise,” Billie said.
She leaned forward and kissed Merissa, sliding her tongue gently across Merissa’s lower lip. Merissa had lived a lifetime without Billie, but after a few short weeks, even three days without her had been profoundly lonely. She opened her mouth in an invitation to deepen the kiss, and Billie seemed more than happy to oblige. Merissa tightened her grip and nestled Billie’s hips snugly against her own.
“Want the grand tour of the apartment?” Billie asked. Merissa gasped as the words were breathed against her ear. The softness of Billie’s whispers sent shockwaves down Merissa’s body, reaching everyplace where their bodies were in contact. “We can start with the bedroom.”
“Hmm,” Merissa said, moaning as Billie nibbled the side of her neck. “I guess it depends. When Don mentioned your bedbug problem, was he kidding?”
Billie stopped the progress her mouth was making and looked thoughtful, although her hands refused to remain still. She slid them over Merissa’s ribcage and brushed her thumbs across Merissa’s breasts. “I really don’t see a problem. As long as I call them pets and not pests, a few bedbugs here and there aren’t bad.”
Merissa arched closer as Billie continued to tease her nipples through the rough wool of her sweater. She didn’t think she could stand much more of this before she tore their clothes off and connected them skin to skin. “Let’s take that tour,” she said. “I’ll take my chances with the bedbugs.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Billie poured four cups of coffee and put them on a tray with cream and sugar. She carried it out to the group assembled in her living room, pausing in the doorway to admire how easily Merissa had adapted to the apartment. She was curled on the love seat with her bare feet tucked under her, wearing a thin pale-green sweater and khakis. Her hair was loose and framing her face, and Billie nearly dropped the tray of hot coffee when she remembered the night they’d spent together.
She set the tray on the coffee table and handed Merissa coffee with a splash of cream. Clark drank his black, but Don dosed his with cream and sugar.
“So, what did you guys find out?” Billie asked as she sat down close to Merissa. Once she and Merissa had decided to see the search for Dennis’s killer through to the end, they realized they couldn’t bring Lemaine to justice on their own. Billie had called in reinforcements.
“It took hours, but we went through a ton of traffic camera footage from the week before Dennis Morgan was killed,” Clark said. “We found Percy and followed him around the city.”
Don nodded. “He dealt with a lot of different people on the streets, but we were able to narrow the possible shooters to four men.”
Clark pulled several still photos from a folder and placed them on the table, tapping one of them. “This guy—Will Jones—seems to be our most likely suspect. He never spoke to Percy face-to-face, but they left cash and drugs for each other in Percy’s mailbox. The night before the murder, just after Carlyle said Percy took his keys, Percy left a package in the box. An hour later, Will was there. The next day, they did the same thing in reverse.”
“What do you think, Merissa?” Billie asked. She handed her the photo. “Could this be the guy who kidnapped you, too?”
Billie put her hand on Merissa’s thigh while Merissa examined the picture. Billie still hated to be reminded of the day Merissa had been abducted. It hadn’t even been a week, and the fear and rawness were still present.
“The height and weight seem about right,” Merissa said. “But I never got a look at his face. It was covered up the whole time I saw him.”
“I got a better look since he couldn’t really wear a ski mask in the farm’s parking lot and on the way out the gate,” Billie said. “The hair color and the shape of his face are similar.”
Billie got up to answer a knock at the door, and Rachel and Cal joined the group. Billie had mentioned their plan to Hargrove, but Abby had covered her ears and repeated, I don’t want to know , until Billie finally walked away. Don and Clark repeated their information to Rachel and Cal while Billie got more coffee from her kitchen.
“What about you two?” Don asked.
“I did some digging into Lemaine’s finances and subsidiaries,” Rachel said, sitting on one of the folding chairs Billie had set out for them. “He follows the same predictable pattern with everything he gets his hands on. Apartment buildings, restaurants, strip malls. Take the strip malls, for instance. Once he gets involved, all the unique stores and smaller businesses are out. By the time he’s done, they have more than eighty percent of shops or restaurants in common. He serves on a ton of advisory boards, and even when he doesn’t seem to have real power on paper, his influence is easy to see once you start looking for it.”
Merissa stirred her coffee. “He has a lot of power, but little imagination,” she said. “The same thing happened when he got his hooks into Dennis. Lemaine didn’t want different designs and creative options. He wanted a series of cookie-cutter blueprints backed by the firm’s reputation.”
Rachel nudged Cal’s leg with her foot. “Tell them about the investors.”
Billie had asked Cal to use her family’s connections in the business world to check into the stable of investors Lemaine used most regularly. She wasn’t sure how any of this information would help them take him down, but at least it was giving them more of a picture of the man and his influence.
“They were pretty evasive,” Cal said with a shrug. “But when they act like that, they tend to tell you what you wanted to know in a roundabout way. Everyone I talked to denied letting Lemaine influence their decisions, but they all told me stories about friends who tried to cross Lemaine and suffered for it. Investors are supposed to make their own decisions, choose the projects or people or products they want to back, but the ones who work with Lemaine can’t do that.”
Cal pulled out a stack of spreadsheets and handed them around. “I snooped around through public records and talked to assistants and secretaries, and I got a clear picture of the type of investment each investor favored.” She pointed at the string of words across the bottom of each page. “Rachel cross-referenced these and found the criteria most often used by each investor. Some like projects with a philanthropic angle, some prefer small and safe investments over high-cost, high-risk ones. Some support the arts, others focus on projects benefiting children.”
Cal flipped through the stack of papers. “Anyway, once you look for it, it’s easy to see the criteria an investor uses to make decisions. The projects that deviate from their usual ones stand out clearly. In almost every instance, those standouts are Lemaine’s projects. He somehow has enough influence to control what his investors do and what they back.”
Merissa shook her head as she looked over one of Cal’s spreadsheets. “He has control all over the city. He has the ability to decide how these wealthy and influential people will invest their money. What could we possibly do to intimidate him enough to get a confession out of him? I’m
guessing the people he controls will lie, cheat, and steal to protect him, maybe because they’re scared of him or have been threatened by him. They would be too scared to stand up against him.”
Billie had an idea brewing, but she was tempted to keep it quiet because it involved Merissa. She didn’t want Merissa to have any dealings with this man, but he had to be stopped before he got control over the entire city. Urban renewal projects with individual character and housing options for middle- and working-class citizens would be severely limited. Pretty soon Tacoma would be nothing more than a series of the same strip malls, bowling alleys, and restaurants.
Even beyond Lemaine’s goals for the city, Billie felt she had to give Merissa a chance to best him because Billie understood the pain of losing someone. If she had the chance to find justice for Mike, she’d definitely take it. She didn’t, but she could offer the opportunity to Merissa.
“I have an idea,” she said. “It involves Merissa and Carlyle…”
*
Merissa stood on the front porch of the tan-colored house and looked at the view. From this vantage point in one of the more prestigious neighborhoods on Browns Point, she could see Mount Rainier to her far left and the city of Tacoma sprawling beneath her. The ferry to Vashon Island slowly churned its way across the Sound. The houses in this neighborhood were huge, but all fairly similar in shape and style. They were also packed tightly together. If she’d had to make a choice, she’d have opted for a less fancy house with more space, but the developer had certainly been trying to make the most of these view properties.
She turned away from the city and toward the door, ringing the bell and clasping and unclasping her hands while she waited. She was about to rush down the stairs and away from the house in relief because no one was home when the door opened and Edwin Lemaine stood in front of her. He was as smooth and put together as usual, with a high-necked black sweater and pressed gray pants. He was clearly surprised to see her, but the expression didn’t last long and was quickly replaced by his controlled smile.
“Merissa, dear. I wasn’t expecting you. At my house. Come in.”
He stood back, and Merissa walked in, wincing at the sound of the door clicking shut. She wished she were better at hiding her distaste for and fear of the man, but she realized those very emotions were ones he would expect to see in her. He had bullied her, he had kidnapped her, and he knew he held all the cards.
He shut the door without locking it, and as soon as he turned away, Merissa unlatched it quietly and left it slightly ajar. He led the way into his study. No warm woods and warmth here, just a sleek modern style with uncomfortable and expensive black leather chairs. Merissa perched on the edge of one and spoke before Edwin could ask her why she was there.
“I got your message.”
“Ah. Clever girl to escape as easily as you did. I thought you might be too carsick to function.”
A shiver ran through her at his mention of something so personal. What else had he learned about her? And how had he found out about her getting carsick? From Dennis?
“I think I did exactly what you wanted me to.”
“And in the future?”
Merissa wanted to gag. “I’ll do exactly what you want me to do. I want to play the game, Mr. Lemaine. The Morgan Group offers money and prestige, and I want both of those things. I’ll do what it takes to make the firm as successful as Dennis did.”
Lemaine leaned back in his chair with a smile. “Excellent, my dear. I believe we’re going to get along just fine, as long as you agree to work exclusively with me. First thing Monday, we’ll meet with—”
Both he and Merissa jumped to their feet when the front door burst open. Edwin was halfway to the study door when Carlyle ran in with a gun in his hand and a crazed look on his face. Merissa yelped and backed away along with Edwin, who held his hands up either in a gesture of surrender or an attempt to calm his assailant.
“I need the name,” Carlyle said with a slur in his voice. “I know you were behind this, you and Percy, using my car and settin’ me up. Give me the name of the guy who shot that dude, or you’ll be next.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Edwin said, inching back toward his desk. Merissa wondered if he had a gun hidden in there.
“And you,” Carlyle continued, turning toward her with a snarl. “I recognize you. You’re the lady that told the cops on me. Turned in my car and had me locked up for days. Damned cops think I did it ’cause of you.”
Merissa’s heart was beating so loudly she was certain everyone in the room could hear the thudding.
“I didn’t see you in the car, I just told the police I saw one like it,” Merissa said, her voice coming out thin and flute-like. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. It’s him who’s got something I want. The name of the guy who shot your friend. Tell me and I leave.”
Merissa looked at Edwin, pleading with her eyes for him to talk. He was still on the front side of the desk and wouldn’t be able to make it to any of the drawers before Carlyle shot him.
“Fine,” he snapped, as if the word was painful to say. “He was just some disgusting street trash like you. Name’s Al Brown. Hangs out near the train station. Now get out of my house. You’ve got what you want.”
“Liar,” Carlyle said with a hiss. He grabbed Merissa and held her with his left arm wrapped around her throat, his gloved right holding the gun to her temple. “Tell me, or she dies.”
“Please, Edwin,” Merissa pleaded. “You know who shot Dennis, so let whoever it was take the fall. Please.”
“Her first, you next,” said Carlyle.
“Will Jones,” Edwin spat out. “His name was Will Jones. Now let her go and get the hell out of my house.”
“Sound right to you?” Carlyle asked Merissa. He let go of the grip he’d had on her.
“I do believe it does,” she said, straightening up and facing Lemaine. He seemed to realize they had worked together to trick him, and he dove for his desk drawer. Carlyle tossed the gun he had been holding onto the desk.
“Looking for this?” he asked. “I borrowed it, but you can have it back now.”
Lemaine grabbed the gun and raised it. Carlyle didn’t flinch when Edwin pulled the trigger and there was only the sound of an empty round clicking into place. “Except for the bullets. I seem to have misplaced those.”
Merissa stepped back as Lieutenant Hargrove and several other officers came through the door and into the house. Billie was right on their heels, and she grabbed Merissa into a tight hug.
“You’re okay?” she asked, holding Merissa at arm’s length as if to make certain she was still in one piece. “I was so scared.”
“I’m fine,” Merissa said. “Just a little shaky.”
“I’m good, too, thanks for asking,” Carlyle said.
Billie rolled her eyes at him and led them both out of the house to where Rachel and the rest of the mounted team were waiting. Carlyle proceeded to give them a rundown of what happened, including an only slightly exaggerated version of his own part in the ruse. Merissa led Billie a few yards away.
“I think my career as an undercover cop starts and ends today,” she said, brushing Billie’s dark bangs out of her eyes. “I’m going to concentrate instead on my own career, not Dennis’s anymore.”
“You’re not going to buy the firm?” Billie asked, tucking Merissa’s hair behind her ear and tracing its curve until Merissa felt her breath become as shallow as it had been in Lemaine’s house, but for a very different—and much better—reason. “What made you decide?”
Merissa turned her head and kissed Billie’s hand. “Dennis had a great reputation, but it’s tainted now. I don’t want to inherit his bad decisions, but I’ll always remember the conversations we had and what I learned from him. I’ll keep his good ideas alive in a way, but it’s time to focus on my own vision. After being so up close and personal with a sleaze like Lemaine, I know I have to try to make it work. This busi
ness of urban planning needs someone with morals.” She glanced over at Carlyle who seemed to be mimicking Edwin’s attempt to shoot him as he told his version of the story to anyone who would listen. “And someone who cares about the people who live in the city. I think I can do something good with my own company.”
“I have no doubt,” Billie said. “You already have done something great for Tacoma. And for me.” She pulled Merissa to her and kissed her softly. “I love you, Merissa.”
“I love you, too, Billie. Bedbugs and all.”
Chapter Twenty-five
As Billie guided her mount Misty onto the polo field on the warm spring day, she mentally checked every possible exit route. Don was in place near the gate and he gave her a thumbs-up when she glanced his way. She had personally locked the gate leading to the trails this morning.
Billie halted next to Merissa and Aggie, across from Cal and Rachel. They were supposedly going to play a fun match against each other, but Billie wasn’t going to let her guard down for a moment because she knew the threat of a kidnapping was a very real one today. She glared at Cal and mouthed the words, I’m watching you .
Cal’s grin only widened, and she reached down to pat Mariposa’s glossy black neck with a wicked look on her face.
“I don’t think this was a good idea,” Billie murmured to Merissa. “She’s a flight risk.”
Merissa’s laughter washed over Billie like a wave. She would never get tired of hearing the sound, whether they were joking around in the grocery store, tangled together in bed at night, or spending time with friends. Before she had met Merissa, Billie had been starting to get closer to her teammates and to Beth, but she was still holding back. Merissa had settled her, given her a place to call home, and Billie trusted her with everything she was. She hadn’t expected to have her love for Merissa expand out to other people, but in the months they had spent together, Billie’s world had exploded into a series of relationships. Connections that had been tentative in the past were strong and vibrant now, blossoming from gray to full color.