Undercover in Copper Lake

by Marilyn Pappano - Undercover in Copper Lake

  “Nice to see her happy, isn’t it?” Sean murmured, wrapping his arms around Sophy from behind.

  “Yes. It is.” She clasped her hands over his, loving the strength and the calluses from years of hard work. Those calluses made for some interesting sensations when he touched her—gentle touch, rough finger pads, followed by the silky, liquid heat of his tongue... Ah, she would fan herself if it didn’t require letting go of him.

  “Daisy pointed out that it’s been a loooong time since breakfast. You want to close up and get some lunch?”

  She’d rather close up and go to bed. Sadly, Daisy didn’t take naps, and it would feel just a little weird making love with Sean in her bedroom while Daisy was awake in the living room.

  She gave a soft, disappointed sigh, and Sean laughed. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

  Giving him an arch look over her shoulder, she shifted her body against his and found proof that he was considering the same thing. “Really? You’re thinking that I need to get this class prep finished and start working on the holiday displays, too?”

  “Aw, Sophy, you could hurt a man’s ego like that.” He nuzzled her ear a moment before releasing her. “Since you’re more interested in working—”

  “And you’re more interested in food.”

  “—how about I go out and get something and bring it back?”

  “That would be sweet.”

  They settled on sandwiches from Ellie’s Deli—Sammiches! Daisy cheered—and Sophy called in the order. Ten minutes later, Sean left on foot to pick them up.

  After a moment, Daisy climbed back onto the stool, sat and started swinging her legs, hitting the cupboards underneath the tabletop with a thunk. “Are you really gonna make me a dress with spiders?”

  “Do you really want one?”

  Daisy slumped in her chair and stared at the ceiling before scratching her nose. “Kind of, but not really. Me and Uncle Sean thought you would say no, so we was joking.” A sly gleam came into her eyes. “But one with skeletons would be cool!”

  “I’ll make you a dress out of whatever material you want, sweetie.”

  “And Dahlia, too?”

  “Sure.” Stacking the pieces for the class together, she left everything on the counter near the computer. She would type her notes, print them and put together packets for the students, as well as a selection of fabrics for two of her students. They were skilled piecers and beautiful quilters, but with all their experience, they lacked the confidence to choose their own prints and colors.

  She’d just walked back to the worktable when a horn outside drew her attention that way. It was sunny and hot, and everyone was dressed accordingly—light dresses, dress pants and shirts sans suit coats, shorts and sleeveless tops. A group of older women in bright florals and purple hats were strolling through the gardens at River’s Edge, and a younger woman in cropped pants pulled a wagon carrying two small kids and a puppy along the sidewalk.

  Maybe that was what made the three men outside the gate catch Sophy’s attention, because they looked out of place. The tallest of the three wore an elegant pale gray suit, and the other two were dressed in jeans, polo shirts and windbreakers.

  Something niggled at the back of Sophy’s neck. It wasn’t their dark shades; practically everyone wore those. It was just a sense of...wrongness. She couldn’t identify it any further. When they turned and walked through the gate, she didn’t try. She just reacted. “Daisy, come here. Hurry.”

  The girl slid to the floor and came around the table. Crouching, Sophy opened one of the cupboard doors and gestured. “Listen to me, sweetie,” she whispered. “I need you to get in here and be very, very quiet, and don’t come out unless Sean or I tell you to. Can you do that?”

  Daisy slid inside, wrapped her arms around her knees and grinned. “I’m a good hider. Am I gonna surprise Uncle Sean?”

  “Yes, you are. Remember, no noise at all.” Sophy grabbed the flashlight she kept on the table to help her locate stuff in the large cabinet, gave it to Daisy, then closed the door and stood just as the bell at the front door rang.

  The first one into the store was Zeke, of the auburn hair, blue eyes and big strong muscles. In insurance and crisis control, and full of questions about Daisy and Dahlia and their mom. He could make a woman feel safe, she remembered thinking, but there was nothing that felt safe anywhere around here. The man in the suit came next, trailed by a walking mountain of muscles. The third guy stayed by the door while Zeke and the other approached her.

  Sophy’s smile was bland and steady, though she was shaking inside. “Good morning.”

  “Hey, Soph.” It was Zeke who replied as he swiped at his forehead. “Damn, it feels good in here. You wouldn’t believe how hot it is outside.”

  “Especially when you’re wearing a jacket.” For what? Concealment? And what might he—they—be concealing? If the tension that had snaked down her spine and into her gut was anything to go by, she’d say weapons. She’d dated a lot of cops who were armed on and off duty. Handguns could be hard to hide completely with just a shirt. “What can I do for you today?”

  The man in the suit smiled, but it was too big, too oily, his gaze searching the room too curiously. “We’re looking for Sean.”

  Sophy pressed her hands together out of sight and kept her own gaze from darting anxiously to the door only by pure will. “He’s not here. You might try back in a few hours.”

  The man smiled again, toothy, feral, reminding her of a predator who’d just spotted his prey. “Then you’ll do. By the way, my associate failed to introduce us. You’re Sophy Marchand. I have to admit, I’ve been curious about the woman who could capture Sean’s attention so thoroughly.”

  Barely able to breathe, to keep her voice steady, she asked, “Who are you?”

  The smile disappeared, giving her a moment to note that he appeared less dangerous without it. Then any question of possible danger disappeared, as well, thanks to his cool reply. “I’m Craig Kolinski.”

  * * *

  Sean’s neighborhood in Norfolk wasn’t really the walking sort. The only restaurants were fast food, the businesses mostly automotive or industrial, with a few bars in between. The closest grocery store was three miles away, the closest restaurant with tables and waiters just past that. He understood why Sophy lived downtown here, why she preferred to walk wherever she could. It was convenient. Homey.

  He’d been thinking a lot about homeyness lately, whether here, Norfolk or someplace else. He could live there; he couldn’t live here. Truth was, he could live wherever he had reason to live.

  The smells coming from the bags he carried were making his mouth water. Sophy’s toasted ham-and-cheese and Daisy’s grilled-cheese sammich brought a growl from his stomach as he turned onto Oglethorpe. Since he hadn’t bought drinks—Sophy kept the shop refrigerator stocked—he’d splurged on desserts instead, decadent small pies, maybe four bites each. The girls campaigned regularly for an eat-dessert-first rule, and today he might join them.

  He checked cars on the street and traffic around before he went through the gate. His shoes on the steps were probably warning enough to Sophy and Daisy, but the bell added its own alert as he went inside.

  There was no sign of Sophy or Daisy. The table where she’d been working was clean now except for the spider fabric and the small pile of stuff she always kept at the other end

  Slowly he moved along the aisle to the table, his gaze shifting constantly, his ears straining for some sound. He saw, heard nothing.

  Maybe they went upstairs to the apartment. Maybe they were in the storeroom or Daisy had made a mess and they were cleaning it in the bathroom. Reaching the table, he set the bags down, took a step or two toward the back, then picked up the sound of rustling right behind him. It stilled as quickly as it had started. Still, his gaze searched the area of the worktable, then settled on the cabinets underneath.

  Standing to one side, he drew a breath, then opened one of the double doors in the m
iddle. A light bounced eerily inside, showing Daisy’s sneakers, her legs curled back and her shorts, dusted with dirt, finally rising to dirt stains on her shirt and cheek, tangled hair and eyes double their usually size.

  “Uncle Sean?” Her whisper wavered as the water level rose in her eyes. Launching herself at him, she threw her arms around his neck and burst into sobs. “The bad men came and took Sophy away with them. They said they were looking for you, but she would do, and they didn’t get me because she told me to hide in there before they come inside, and I stayed real quiet, just like she said. I did good, didn’t I?”

  He smoothed her hair down. “You did real good, kiddo.” His hand trembled, his gut knotted so tight it hurt, and for a moment he hugged her hard. Craig had gotten Sophy, but she’d saved Daisy. Thank God for that miracle, but he wanted another. He wanted Sophy back, safe and unharmed.

  Why the hell had Craig wanted him? And what would Sophy do for? He couldn’t think, couldn’t get his mind to function for anything but fear. If Craig hurt her...

  The fear was joined by something primal, need at its basest. If Craig hurt her, he would kill him. Plain and simple.

  With Daisy’s tears dried to an occasional snuffle, he wondered what to do first. Craig didn’t need to say don’t call the police. People who got on his bad side understood that automatically. Just as Sean automatically understood that he likely couldn’t rescue Sophy on his own.

  Setting Daisy on the work surface, he grabbed a napkin from the lunch bag and wiped her face. “How many men were there, Daisy?”

  “I didn’t see ’em.”

  “Did you hear their voices?”

  Her head bobbed. “There was the one that asked about you, and one that sounded like he was far away and Zeke.”

  Sean’s gaze jerked back to her. “Who the hell is Zeke?”

  “He’s a friend of ours. He walks his fat dog, Bitsy, sometimes. Well, once, and we got to play with her.”

  Yeah, he’d seen one of Craig’s thugs with an ugly little mutt on several occasions.

  He dug the grilled-cheese sandwich from one of the bags and unwrapped it for Daisy, then went to the checkout counter. The project Sophy had been working on was neatly stacked over there, and on top of it, weighted by her cell, was a large manila envelope.

  All of her projects involved small pieces of plastic, paper and fabric. Maybe this was her filing system to make sure it all stayed together. But in all his time in the shop, he hadn’t seen a similar envelope.

  It was heavier than he expected, and a glance inside explained why: it was filled with bundles of money. Ten thousand dollars’ worth, he counted, along with a business card for Triple A Bonds.

  The ugly truth took root in his mind. The money was to bail out Maggie; kidnapping Sophy was Craig’s way of making sure Sean complied. Somewhere along the way, he would offer a trade, Sophy for Maggie, and when he got his hands on Maggie, he would kill her. Problem solved.

  And then he would kill Sean and Sophy, too, no matter what kind of deal he’d promised. Sean had heard him say it before: the only good witness was a dead witness.

  Grimly he put the money back in the envelope, scrolled through Sophy’s phone book and called Nev. Her greeting was cheery and affectionate, but he butted in. “I need a favor, Nev. Could you come watch Daisy for a while, and Dahlia when she gets home from school?”

  “Sure, I can. You want me to bring them home—”

  “Upstairs. In the apartment. We’ll be waiting in the shop. Thanks.” He hung up, switched to his own phone and dialed Craig’s number. His boss answered on the first ring.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “I thought the message I left was pretty clear, but Jimmy said you couldn’t figure it out on your own. Zeke, pay him.”

  “You expect me to bail my sister out of jail and trade her to you for Sophy so you can kill her?”

  “Aw, not so fast on the money, Jimmy,” Craig said, and a background groan carried over the line. “That’s exactly what I expect, Sean. Hell, I left you the cash. You’re not even out any money. You’re as big a winner in this as we are. Maggie’ll be out of your life, you’ll have her girls with no more hassles, and you’ll have this pretty little law-abiding respectable blonde if you want her. It’s win-win.”

  Sean rubbed the throbbing ache in his left temple. He couldn’t deny his life was much easier without Maggie around or that he didn’t want anything to do with her until she’d cleaned herself up and proved she could stay that way. But God help him, he didn’t want her dead. She was a self-centered idiot doper, but she didn’t deserve to die.

  “Where’s Sophy?”

  “She’s sitting across the table from me. She’s fine, I promise.” Then, in an aside: “Here, say something to him.”

  Sophy’s voice came from a distance, as if he’d held out the phone but not handed it to her. “Did you find Daisy? Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s just a little scare—”

  “So.” It was Craig again. “You go take care of the bond and pick up Maggie, then call me and we’ll set up a trade.”

  “Craig, I can’t—” Breaking off, Sean clenched his teeth. “Just give me some time with Maggie. Let me talk to her one more time. Let me try—”

  “Sorry, buddy, but her one-more-times ran out when she had her lawyer call me last night. She got to thinking about that offer you made her and figured if she could get that kind of money from her brother the mechanic, how much more could she get from the major drug dealer?” Craig’s voice was quiet and flat. “She’s trying to blackmail me, Sean. Nobody gets away with that. Like I said, I’m sorry, but she had plenty of chances to do what she needed to do. Now she’s left me no choice but to do what I need to.”

  Damn Maggie and her greed and her stupidity. Damn her and Craig and the DEA for putting Sean in this position—and as long as he was damning people, he had to include himself, for dragging Sophy into this mess. He’d had plenty of chances, too, to keep his distance, to make his usual safe decisions, but no, he’d been too drawn to Sophy, too interested in his nieces.

  Now everyone was going to suffer.

  He swallowed hard. “Craig, I can’t—”

  His boss’s voice was barely audible now, tightly controlled, totally menacing. “You know I’ll kill Sophy if you don’t.” Then he hung up.

  Sean returned the phone to his pocket, then picked up the envelope again, staring at the money it held. Craig could have bailed out Maggie himself, but that would have required proof of identification. It would have meant associating himself with her, being the last person to see her alive, being the first suspect when she was found dead.

  Plus, it probably gave him some sort of sick pleasure to force Sean to do it himself.

  How much did Craig think he could trust Sean? Was there any chance all those years of friendship and working together still meant anything to him? Was there any way Sean could convince the bastard that, unlike Maggie, he and Sophy were smart enough to keep their mouths shut? That their own lives and the girls’ meant more to them than money, justice or anything else?

  Was there any way in hell he could walk into the meeting place with Maggie, grab Sophy and all three of them walk out alive?

  Not without serious help.

  “Uncle Sean, are the bad men going to hurt Sophy?”

  Daisy’s scared little voice sliced through him. He crossed the room to her, pulled her close and lied through his teeth. “No, kiddo. She’s gonna be okay. She’ll be back here in no time.”

  Trying to believe his own lies, he took out his phone again and dialed Ty’s number.

  Chapter 12

  Unless Sean worked some magic soon, Sophy was going to die.

  Oh, his boss and former friend had insisted she was merely leverage, a pawn to be traded for Maggie, but Sophy knew better. Craig’s plan was to silence Maggie, to kill her, all because she knew a little something about his drug business. He sure as hell wasn’t going to kidnap Sophy, with f
irsthand knowledge of his crimes, and let her live to testify against him.

  Please, Sean. Call Ty, call your special-agent friend, call whoever it takes to save us. And please don’t come here alone. She loved him dearly, but he was no match for these guys. He wasn’t violent by nature. He didn’t seek out confrontation. He cared about people. He didn’t have a killer’s instinct, a killer’s dead soul.

  She sat in a wooden chair, her hands zip-tied behind its scrolled back. She’d recognized their destination as soon as they turned off the highway: Fair Winds, a plantation home north of town on the banks of the Gullah River. Though well maintained, the property had sat empty a couple of years, since Mark Howard committed suicide on the front lawn. It belonged now to his daughter Clary, Daisy’s little friend, but Clary’s family had no interest in living there.

  Craig and his men had made themselves at home in the caretaker’s cottage across the driveway from the main house. The big guy, Jimmy, was keeping watch at the front door, Zeke doing the same at a side window, and Craig was sitting across the table from her, texting a lot, checking the time a lot more. Funny, he didn’t look like a psychopath.

  When he caught her watching him, he took it as a cue to start a conversation. “So...you and Sean. You know, I’m not at all surprised that he’d fall for someone like you. All sweet and fresh and innocent.”

  She stared at him. “I am surprised that he’d be friends with someone like you. All corrupt and coldhearted and violent.” Hey, if the guy was going to kill her, she deserved to tell him what she really thought of him.

  He didn’t seem insulted in the least. “Don’t hold this against him. He doesn’t know much about my business outside of the garage. He’s a good guy. He keeps the place running, keeps the mechanics in line and keeps bringing in money. It’s just his bad luck that Maggie happened to hook up with one of my guys.”

  “Bad luck?” She snorted. Even if she didn’t feel brave or bold, it helped a tiny bit to pretend it. “You didn’t just happen to send one of your guys to Copper Lake with instructions to hook up with Maggie?”