Untraceable

by Laura Griffin

  “Jump out!” he shouted.

  And they did.

  For the second time tonight, Nathan watched a gurney being wheeled away from a crime scene. This time, it carried one of his best friends.

  “You think he’ll be okay?”

  He glanced down into Alex’s concerned brown eyes. Her face was smudged with soot, her wet hair was plastered to her head, and she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

  “He’s tough as they come,” Nathan said. “He’ll be all right.” At least, Nathan hoped so. Tough wasn’t necessarily an antidote to a spray of bullets from an AK-47. Hodges had been awake and lucid when they’d rolled him up to that ambulance, but Nathan had listened closely to the paramedics barking back and forth, and it was clear the man needed surgery, fast.

  “I called Courtney,” Alex said now. “She’s on her way to the hospital. I told her I’d meet her there as soon as I can make it.”

  Nathan surveyed the scene. Organized mayhem. Vehicles from federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies surrounded the burned-out carcass of the house. Several fire rigs and even a few boats had pulled up close to the action. Firefighters were busy tromping around the smoky ruins. A brief downpour had helped douse the flames, but mainly had added to the confusion.

  “Like roaches.”

  Nathan turned to see John Holt walking up to them.

  “What’s that?” Alex asked.

  “Goddamn gangbangers. Pardon my French. Scatter like roaches when the lights come on.”

  “Any sign of Coghan?” Nathan asked, without much hope.

  “No.” Holt’s jaw tightened. “But we got a roadblock set up on every highway, byway, and wagon rut within twenty miles of here. Someone’ll see him.”

  Nathan wasn’t so optimistic. The son of a bitch’s best asset was his ability to blend in with law enforcement. He’d slip through the cracks somehow.

  “How you holdin’ up?” Holt asked Alex, looking her over. He shot Nathan a disapproving look, probably due to the fact that Alex was still standing around in his dripping wet bomber jacket, which hit her about midthigh. She’d stubbornly refused the blankets the paramedics had tried to foist on her.

  “I’m pissed,” Alex said now. “The bastard got away. Hundred bucks says he’s halfway to Mexico by now with a bagful of cash.”

  “If he is,” Holt said, “we’ll nab him at the border.”

  Yeah, sure.

  The ranger’s phone buzzed and he unclipped it from the holder at his belt. “Holt.”

  Nathan scanned the scene grimly. Three deaths—all bad guys, but still. An injured cop. An injured civilian. He glanced at the welts along Alex’s neck and tried not to think about the rage that had been bubbling inside him since he’d pulled her out of the lake and gotten his first good look at her. She claimed she was fine—just a few dings and scratches—but Nathan knew better. He’d seen that look on her face when he’d first found her. She wasn’t fine, not emotionally. And although she didn’t know it yet, he planned to take her to the hospital tonight for a thorough exam.

  “They got her.”

  Nathan glanced up. “Who?”

  “The ADA.”

  Alex’s gaze flashed to Nathan’s. He’d told her about Nicole while they’d watched the firefighters battle the flames. She’d reacted with much less shock than he had.

  “They’re taking her downtown,” Holt informed him.

  “Good,” Nathan said.

  Nicole. Cernak. He could hardly get his head around it. He’d trusted both of them, and the bitterness he felt now—even with Cernak dead—it just kept growing.

  Nathan’s attention drifted over Holt’s shoulder. The firefighter walking past that rig… He was big, tall, wore a helmet. Like every other firefighter out here tonight, except—

  He pulled open the driver’s-side door of a police unit. He glanced up.

  “Gun!” Nathan yelled, whipping out his Glock. He saw the flash of the muzzle just as his finger squeezed the trigger.

  Coghan slammed back against the car, then slid to the ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - NINE

  Shootings created paperwork.

  That’s what Alex told herself as she sat in the examining room alone, waiting to be poked and prodded by the ER doctor. She told herself the same thing again as she paced the hospital waiting room with Courtney, who was anxiously awaiting the results of her husband’s surgery.

  And hours later, when Alex stumbled into an empty apartment and collapsed, boneless, onto her bed, she reminded herself—yet again—that shootings created paperwork. Nathan had killed a man, and he couldn’t have been with her right now, even if he’d wanted to.

  She awoke with the sun beaming into her eyes and an enormous cat curled against her stomach. Her pillow smelled like smoke. She lifted her head and blinked at the clock. Two. Her senses kicked into gear as she glanced around the room. Her hair smelled like smoke. Her skin smelled like smoke. The scrubs they’d given her at the hospital smelled like smoke. She staggered into the bathroom and took a soapy shower, taking care to keep her burned arm out of the water. She put on a robe and went into the kitchen, then methodically filled the coffee carafe with water. Her gaze landed on the long black scuff mark on her kitchen floor.

  Her stomach knotted. Her hands started to quiver. She abandoned the carafe on the counter, threw on some clothes, and went out.

  When she returned several hours later, Nathan’s car was in the driveway. She walked through the door Coghan had jimmied open less than a day ago and followed the trail: keys and wallet on the kitchen table beside the note she’d scribbled, boots outside the bathroom door. She collected the clothes off the floor and tossed them into the washing machine.

  Then she stood in the doorway of her bedroom and watched him. He was passed out on his stomach, the covers tangled around his waist. A lump lodged in her throat. She thought of the groceries she’d just bought. She thought of feeding him. She thought of letting him rest.

  Then she stripped off her clothes and slid under the covers.

  For a few perfect minutes she watched his relaxed features. She traced them with her finger—his straight nose, his stubbled jaw, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. She thought about what she’d said to him last night, and her chest tightened.

  His hand found her thigh, but his eyes stayed closed. It stroked over her hip, her waist, then slid back to her thigh again. He opened his eyes.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hi.”

  A full minute ticked by as he simply looked at her.

  “Hodges is going to be okay,” she said.

  “I know. I talked to Courtney.” He paused. “Did you get checked out?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  His gaze drifted to the marks on her neck, and his eyes darkened, like they always did when he looked at her scars. She snuggled closer to distract him. He shifted position and resettled her head against his biceps. His hand stroked up and down her body, and it felt so good, she wanted purr.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said quietly.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I would have been here sooner, but—”

  “Shh.” She kissed him to stop the words.

  And then he wrapped her in those arms she’d missed, pinned her beneath him, and showed her he was sorry without any words at all.

  Alex woke to the smell of bacon. She shuffled into her kitchen and found a half-naked man standing at the stove. This was a first. And she liked it.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Morning, sunshine.”

  She smoothed her hair self-consciously, and his smile widened.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You.” He poured a cup of coffee and brought it to her. “Nice robe. Did I buy you that?”

  She glanced down at the monogram over her breast. “I bought it in the hotel gift shop, after you left.”

  She opened the fridge and added cream to her coffee.


  “Thanks for washing my jeans.”

  “No problem.” She’d washed his shirt, too, but he hadn’t managed to put it on, which was fine with her.

  The newspaper sat on the table, and she read the headline splashed across the top: “Task Force Unveils Public Corruption Scandal.” She sank into a chair.

  He slid a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of her. “I fixed that door.”

  “You did?” She glanced over at it. “Thank you.”

  “You got any Tabasco?”

  “No.”

  “Picante?”

  “Top shelf.” She nibbled a piece of bacon and continued reading: “Following a house fire near Lake Buchanan, a joint state and federal task force unveiled a sweeping investigation into regional public officials. Arrest warrants were issued yesterday for more than a dozen central Texas cops and several public prosecutors.”

  “The D.A.?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Nicole’s boss.” Nathan joined her at the table. “I always hated that guy.”

  “Isn’t he involved in, like, hundreds of cases every year?”

  “His office is, yeah.”

  Alex opened the paper, and the row of photographs caught her eye. She recognized Nathan’s ex-wife. She recognized Nathan’s boss. She stole a look at him over the top of the paper and saw the tension in his face.

  “You’ve read all this, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s a fucking mess.”

  She skimmed through the story. According to the report, the task force had been formed more than a year ago to look into alleged ties between the Saledo drug cartel, out of Mexico, and various narcotics cops in key positions throughout the state. The probe had started with a few police officers, but had been expanded to include a huge array of public officials. The assistant district attorney had played a key role in Austin, according to a task force spokesperson. She’d used her legal expertise to paper fraudulent real estate deals that allowed the Sale-dos to buy foreclosed homes to use as grow houses. She and her boss also were accused of offering Saledo operatives who ran into legal trouble attractive plea bargains. Meanwhile, Saledo rivals were vigorously prosecuted.

  It was the sort of corruption Alex expected to hear about happening south of the border, not in her own backyard. She shook her head as she finished the story. Who knew how many cases and trials and lives had been affected? Nathan was right. It was a fucking mess.

  She looked at him. He’d just killed a fellow cop. One he used to consider a friend. And he’d just learned that the institution—the people he’d been working for his whole career—had betrayed him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  And she knew he wasn’t fine at all.

  He stood up and took his plate to the counter. “Let’s go for a drive,” he said.

  “A drive?”

  “I need to talk to you about something.”

  Okay. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she dressed and pulled her hair into a ponytail. They climbed into his car, and she watched him as he backed out of Thelma’s driveway. This was bad news, and her mind ran through the possibilities. Maybe he’d been fired. Maybe he was facing criminal charges in Coghan’s death. Maybe the task force had set its sights on him now.

  He turned out of her neighborhood, and she took a deep breath. “Okay, hit me,” she said.

  He gave her a curious look.

  “What?” she asked impatiently. “You’ve got something to say, say it.”

  “All right. I’m moving.”

  She stared at him across the car. He glanced at her.

  “Moving,” she stated.

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “Soon. Probably this week.”

  He must have quit his job. He was fed up with everything, and he wanted to distance himself from it.

  She looked out the window and tried to ignore the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. Moving. She hadn’t expected it. She’d thought of moving. She thought of moving every few months or so. In her mind, she was always the mover, not the one left behind.

  She turned to look at him. His profile was strong, and her attention was drawn to those arms bulging beneath the black T-shirt she’d washed for him. She loved those arms. She’d missed them. Missed him. And suddenly pride—which had always mattered to her—seemed like the most inconsequential thing in the universe.

  “Stay,” she said, before she could stop herself. “Please?”

  He gave her a questioning look.

  “I was thinking. About your, you know, job situation.” Her nerves were jumping now, but she just plunged on. “I’ve decided to hire some more help, now that I’m going to be splitting time between my office and the Delphi Center. Maybe you could come work at Lovell Solutions.”

  The side of his mouth curved up. “As a private investigator?”

  “Why not? You’re an investigator already. This would just be a change.”

  He smiled fully now.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “You’d be my boss.”

  What was funny about that? But of course it would never work. “We could be partners,” she said.

  “Partners.”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  And then she felt a shot of panic because, holy hell, was she really offering to give him fifty percent of the business she’d spent years building?

  And she looked at him and knew that she was. That’s exactly what she was offering. And she wanted more than anything for him just to say yes, so he could stay here in Austin and see this thing through.

  Funny how coming inches away from death had made her realize all the things lacking in her life. She’d spent a lot of time lately thinking about Melanie. It was the weirdest thing. For all Melanie’s screwed-up, terrible decisions, in some ways, she was better off than Alex. In less than a year, Melanie had managed to find, and lose, and then find again more love than Alex had known in a lifetime. As bizarre as it was, Alex actually envied her.

  Nathan turned into a neighborhood off South Lamar.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I told you. For a drive.”

  She took a deep breath and gazed at her lap. Her idea would never work. He was an amazing investigator, yes. But the sort of work she did would make him crazy. The deadbeat dads, the insurance cheats—all of that would bore him to pieces. And the work she found meaningful—all those bleeding-heart cases he liked to chide her about—those cases belonged to her.

  He hung a left at a stop sign and pulled over. He turned to look at her.

  “I appreciate the offer.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Come on.”

  “What?”

  He got out, and she followed suit. They were parked in front of a white 1940s bungalow with turquoise awnings. Her heart started racing as he took her hand and tugged her up the sidewalk. He stopped in front of the turquoise front door and gazed down at her. “I said I was moving.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t say I was leaving.”

  “So, your job…?”

  “I’m going back, soon as the review board clears me. It was a righteous shoot. Eight people witnessed it. The inquiry’s just a formality.”

  He flipped through his key chain, then he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He gestured her inside.

  Alex took a tentative step over the threshold. The room was empty. Her sandals sank into the pale pink carpet. She glanced at the walls, the ceiling.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  She swallowed. “I think… it’s very pink.”

  “Needs a coat of paint, I know. But look at this.” He walked over to the corner of the room and knelt down. He peeled back a corner of carpet. “Wood floors.”

  “Wow, that’s… wow.”

  She took a few more steps and peeked her head into the hallway.
More pink carpet. “So… you bought this place?”

  “Leased. With an option to buy in one year.” He walked over and picked up her hand again. He led her past an empty bedroom, past a bathroom with a pedestal sink, to another empty room with sun streaming through the windows. Alex walked into the center of the room and looked around. The floor in here was a warm, honey-colored wood. And the walls were cream instead of pink.

  “Do you like it?”

  She glanced over at him. He stood just inside the doorway with a shoulder propped against the wall. His stance was relaxed, but she saw a trace of insecurity on his face.

  “It’s great,” she said.

  “When I first saw this room, I thought of you. I thought it would make a great home office for you.”

  She turned and stared at him. “When did you first see this room?”

  “A few weeks ago. While you were in New Orleans.”

  “You… you decided to move then?”

  He shrugged. “I knew I wanted to be with you. I knew we needed our own place. You’ve never unpacked a damn thing, and I knew you never would unless I gave you a reason. So I’m giving you a reason.”

  Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it.

  “You’re asking me to live in this house with you?”

  He walked over and picked up her hand. He kissed her knuckles, and the tenderness she saw in his eyes made her breath catch. “For starters, yeah.”

  “And then?”

  “And then everything.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. “I love you, Alex. I want to be with you. Make a home with you.”

  She started laughing then, and she was crying, too. Happiness swelled in her chest as she searched his face. “Go back to the middle part.”

  He smiled. “The ‘I love you’ part?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I love you. I want us to make a life together. Will you do that with me?” He kissed her. And it was tenderness, and heat, and this new thing, this joy she’d never felt with him before. And it went on and on and swirled around her until she forgot about words and the question he’d asked and the answer she’d wanted to say.