The door opened, and Grafton entered.
“What the hell is going on?” Sam barked. His hands were gesturing wildly. “She should have been allowed a phone call.”
“She was.”
Sam stared at the detective in shock. All he could do was blink and breathe, albeit shallowly. Who had she called? He pushed his distress and vulnerability away. He wasn’t going to let the detective see that side of him.
“There is no way Agent Dawson killed anyone.” He used her formal title without thought, but it was appropriate. She was a federal officer with a solid record. She wouldn’t destroy it over a personal vendetta. The cost would be far too high. He knew what the Bureau meant to her.
“No matter what you believe, the evidence doesn’t look good for your girlfriend.” Grafton was cool in his delivery as he took a seat at the table.
Sam sat back and clasped his hands. “I assume you have proof?”
“She was found in the victim’s house the morning after his murder. Do you know why she was in his house?”
Sam remained silent.
Grafton let at least a full minute pass, leaning back in his chair, his arm extended across the table, his hand flipping back the corner of a piece of paper.
“If Paige was inside, it was for a good reason,” Sam finally said. “Maybe she thought Ferris was in danger.”
“That’s exactly what she said. Did you rehearse this?” A sly smile lifted the corner of Grafton’s mouth. “He wasn’t killed in his home, though.”
“Okay, now you’ve lost me.”
“He was found in a motel room.” Grafton pulled a crime scene photo from a folder.
“Oh.” Sam covered his mouth and turned away. In his entire career as a detective, he’d never seen anything so horrific. “When was he found? Time of death?”
“Found at eight this morning at the Budget Motel by a maid. Before you ask, she’s been cleared.”
“Eight is early for a maid.”
Grafton shrugged.
“Time of death window?” Sam repeated the question.
“Between ten and midnight.” Grafton paused. “And a woman with long curly hair was last seen with Ferris.”
“Well, it wasn’t Paige.”
“You sure?”
“She’d never do something like that. I know her.”
“Is that true? You’ve known her a long time, then?”
“Long enough.”
“Come on, now, Detective. A week, a month, years?”
Sam’s eyes shot to Grafton’s. He didn’t care for the way Detective came off the man’s lips, full of disrespect and belittlement. It meant that Grafton had no bounds when it came to his fellow officers in law enforcement. He’d grind any of them if it served his purposes. And Sam recognized what that meant for Paige. There was already an underlying dislike, or competitiveness, between most state and federal officers.
Sam made certain to meet Grafton’s gaze. “You’re only after her because she’s an FBI agent.”
“She had reason to kill Hall.”
It was there in the glint of Grafton’s eyes. There was a lot of “evidence” Grafton was holding back. Sam also had a feeling that they had uncovered the true reason for the trip to California, so he’d be revealing nothing new by being honest. “She was going to let him know what he had done to her friend. That’s all.”
Grafton leaned forward. “Yet, it seems she did more than that, didn’t she?”
Sam gritted his teeth and looked up at the ceiling, trying to restrain himself from punching this guy right in his stupid grin. “I want to see her.”
“As I said before, that’s not going to happen.” Grafton leaned back in his chair again, leaving one arm extended and resting on the table. “So let’s get the mundane out of the way, shall we?”
“By all means.”
Yes, let’s get this over with and free Paige, you stupid bastard.
“Paige Dawson was found in Hall’s home. She claimed she found the door open.”
Sam felt the pressure lift from his chest. “Then she had a reason to enter.”
“That can’t be proven.”
“Yet her murdering him can?”
“All in due time.”
“Fuck all in due time,” Sam spat out. He could feel the large vein in his forehead throbbing.
But his outburst had no apparent impact on the detective. Grafton just continued in a calm voice. “A witness says that Paige told her she was with Hall last night.”
The tidbits of information seemed to be packaged in pairs now. A witness? “Last night? What does that have to do with anything? She went to see him this morning. And last night, she was with me.”
Grafton locked eyes with Sam. “Was she?”
“Of course she was. We got in on Saturday night and haven’t been apart since, except for this morning when she went to see Ferris.”
“And you let her see this man—a man who raped her friend—alone?”
Sam wasn’t going to answer that. He detested the accusation that he was a crappy boyfriend. As if he didn’t feel like shit enough on his own. He never should have let her go by herself. It was his fault she was sitting behind bars. But based on Grafton’s hunger to convict her—and even his possible beef with the FBI—Sam knew Grafton would hold her for at least the full twenty-four hours. The bastard might even apply for an extension.
“What about last night between ten and midnight?” Grafton asked. “Was she with you?”
“I told you we hadn’t been apart since Saturday.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want to change that answer?”
“Positive.”
“You rented a Toyota Camry, yes?”
“She did, but what does that—”
Grafton held up a hand. “The GPS showed she arrived at Ferris’s house at ten oh five.”
The nausea came on quickly, blanketing over him and threatening to suffocate him. None of this was making sense.
“As I said, did you want to rethink your answer?” Grafton pressed on a smug smile that Sam wanted to wipe off permanently, but he was at a loss. He had no defense for Paige.
“We’ve already started the process to get a warrant for the tracking device on the rental.”
Sam tightened his jaw. “You told me she used her call?” He didn’t add, I hope she contacted a damn good lawyer.
“She sure did, and Jack Harper, her boss, is her legal representation. I believe he and his team are here, actually.”
The way the detective phrased his response—She sure did—and his tone of voice told Sam these were separate instances, and if that was the case and Paige hadn’t called Jack, who had she used her phone call on?
He didn’t need to think about it for long—Brandon Fisher.
So much for past flames being just that.
-
Chapter 14
IT WAS NEARING EIGHT O’CLOCK and the three-hour time difference was starting to drain me, but there’s no way I could sleep until my body gave out on me. I owed Paige that much.
“We know that motive—at least at face value—is damning against Paige,” Zach began. “Add that to the GPS in her rental, the time of her excursion, the fact that a woman was last seen with Hall, and none of this looks good.”
“Well, the woman last seen with Hall wasn’t Paige,” I said in her defense. “And hopefully Jack can get his hands on the Hyatt’s surveillance video.” Jack had filled us in on what he was after before he left the room.
As if on cue, the door opened and Jack came in. “They’ll have the video ready for us to watch at eleven tomorrow morning.”
“The morning? But that’s not—” My jaw dropped slightly when I realized what that meant. “Shit, Paige has
to be in jail all night?”
“Afraid so.”
I felt bad for my quick reaction given how dejected he sounded. He’d been gone for a couple of hours, likely fighting with the hotel staff the entire time. Given the circumstances, he’d have to go about things without a warrant.
Jack took a slice of pizza from the box on the table and took a large bite. After swallowing, he pulled out his phone, dialed, and put it to his ear. “Nadia, I want you to pull the background on Detective Maxwell Grafton.” He clicked “off” and returned his phone to its holder.
“Tomorrow, hopefully, we’ll get the results of several other items recovered at the scene, like the tube of lipstick found under the bed,” I said. “Surely the DNA will clear her.”
“If only it were that simple.” Jack tore off another chunk of his pizza. Obviously he was in no mood to be cheered up.
“There were smudged prints on the headboard,” Zach added. “Deep bruising on Hall confirms he was bound to the bed, and the markings indicate four sets of cuffs, probably metal. None were found on scene or on Paige.”
I let the silence sit for a while. “All right, so we know the GPS in the car doesn’t look good for Paige, but why do they really think Paige was in the house? By extension, what could the possible motivation have been for the killer?” I wondered aloud.
Jack bobbed his head. “Good question.”
“I wish we could get into Hall’s house and just have a look around.”
“That’s not happening right now. We’ll see what tomorrow brings. Maybe forensics will bring us something that undoubtedly ties Malone’s murder to Hall’s.”
We could only hope…
Jack tossed the rest of his slice into a garbage can. “Paige told me she didn’t think she was far behind whoever had entered Hall’s house. She said that as she went deeper into the house it got colder.”
“So the door wasn’t open letting in warm air for long before Paige arrived,” Zach concluded. “We just have to figure out who was there and why.”
“I’d also like to know what police found in Hall’s house to get them so worked up about Paige’s presence there,” I added.
Jack’s hands formed into fists, and he was glaring with his focus on nothing in particular. “I don’t care if they like it or not, we will be getting into Hall’s house.”
There was a knock on the door. I glanced at Jack and Zach before padding across the room. I looked out the peephole to find Sam. I let him in, and he bypassed me, going straight to Jack.
“Whatever you’re up to, count me in.”
-
Chapter 15
“GRAFTON LET ME GO AS soon as he realized I had nothing to do with Ferris’s murder. It only took about three to four hours out of my day by the time all was said and done.” Sam paced the room. “God, I know some things make it look like she…”
“Take a seat,” Jack said, gesturing toward one at the table.
But Sam headed straight for the minibar and pulled out a miniature bottle of whiskey. He held it up to Jack. “I’ll pay you back.”
Jack dismissed him with a shake of his head. “What did Grafton say to you?”
Sam snapped the lid off and tossed back the alcohol in two gulps. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Some shit about Paige leaving me last night.”
Jack nodded. “All right, we know about that. We’re working on it.”
“Working on it?” Sam’s eyes widened, and he pointed toward the door. “She’s spending the night in jail.”
Jack’s eyes glossed over. He really wasn’t one for repetitiveness. “Until you spoke to Grafton, you had no idea that she stepped out last night?”
“None. Hell, I still don’t want to believe it.” Sam’s gaze went around to all of us. “Now what? I know she didn’t kill this guy, and you guys do, too.” His gaze settled on me. Anger and a tangible sadness emanated from him. I wondered if he knew that she used her call on me.
“We believe that Hall was the victim of a serial killer,” Zach said.
“What just happened to a good old-fashioned murder?” Sam asked. “Are all murders because of some deranged psychopath? Is that the only way you’re programmed to think?”
“I’m sure Paige had a good reason for going out last night,” Jack said, but I didn’t detect any conviction in the tone of his voice.
SAM HEARD WHAT JACK HAD said, but he was having a tough time accepting it. What good reason could she possibly have had? In fact, part of him was doubting everything, starting with their relationship.
“Last night, after dinner out, we stayed in the room.” He so wanted to look at Brandon and rub it in. Sam hadn’t liked Brandon much from the moment they’d met. And as Sam got to know Paige and found out about her previous relationship with Brandon, he liked him even less. “It was a low-key night, really. I was still jet lagged, and went to sleep around nine.” He’d still know if she’d left his side, wouldn’t he?
Apparently not.
But he had to keep his cool and cooperate with these three men. Aligning with them was the best shot at getting Paige back sooner rather than later. And he saw how they worked and trusted that they’d get her off the charges. He also had no doubt that they’d find the real killer.
“So you had no idea she left the room?” Brandon asked.
It had been an innocent enough question, but coming from Paige’s ex-lover, it felt more like a stab to the solar plexus.
“I didn’t.” He hated the admission, how incompetent it made him feel, both as a detective and as her lover.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said.
His tone was resolute, and if Sam were open to feeling any better about the situation, the man would have helped him in that. But what was niggling at him the most, though, wasn’t that she had left his side—and it wasn’t the why—but it was the fact that last night Paige had talked as if she’d had every intention of taking him with her to Hall’s house, and then this morning, she had come up with this ruse as if she had just decided to go by herself.
-
Chapter 16
ELEVEN O’CLOCK—it had been twenty-four hours since she took the power of judge and executioner into her own hands, though she wasn’t so concerned about accomplishing something for the higher good. It really was all about her, her own experiences and how life had been flipped on its head so many years ago. However, she’d be remiss to deny that watching him bleed out had been spiritual in a way. Those who hurt others deserved to feel pain.
She closed her eyes, basking in the vindication of her actions.
The flashbacks to last night kept coming, and with each revisit, they became clearer. She relived each moment repeatedly, taking in the smells, the feel of the blade going through his flesh, the penetration…
He had kept passing out, and she had needed to slap him awake several times. She wanted him to be aware of the pain, of every drop of blood leaving his body, of his life draining away. The sheer terror in his eyes, knowing that these were his last few moments alive, had been sublime.
Now she sat in her studio apartment. It was small but all she could afford. Right now.
The kitchen cabinet doors were cheap laminate; one even hung on an angle from its top hinge. She had never bothered to fix it, but she wasn’t going to live in this squalor forever. But when she wasn’t hunting the violators, she was usually sleeping. The drugs had a way of knocking her out. But when she was here, and awake, she favored the living room because it had the only window with any sort of view. The other one in her apartment faced the brick wall of the next building.
She opened the window overlooking the street, and a delicate breeze blew into the apartment. A neighbor was playing music, its bass thumping through the night air, and lights cast shadows on the pavement below. A few people wandered the sidewalks
. Lovers held hands and those alone seemed in a hurry to get to wherever they were going.
She sat back in her recliner, her feet perched on the windowsill.
On the side table was a glass of water and a prescription bottle. She wished there were a drug that numbed her emotional pain, but they all let her down and only made her feel worse once they wore off. And she didn’t have the money to chase bliss.
No, life had forced her to face—and embrace—the cruelties worked out on her. But she had to believe that they had brought her to this point for a reason.
She snapped the top off the pill bottle and peered inside. There were only twelve tablets left. She needed more money, and fast. The pharmaceutical companies were the worst kind of drug dealer. They raised their prices without justification. Those on the street kept their prices roughly on an even keel. They especially never went up 5,000 percent!
She poured out two pills and washed them down with a mouthful of cheap whiskey. She closed her eyes, wishing to float away and no longer care. About anything.
But as her mind drifted, Ferris’s face morphed into that of the bartender from Wild Horse bar. She knew exactly who he was now, but it had been a long time since she’d seen him before last night. He didn’t even seem to pay her any attention. It would soon be time to get reacquainted.
-
Chapter 17
JACK DIDN’T LIKE PEOPLE WHO tried to read his mind, and he especially didn’t like people telling him what to do. The fact that Grafton had said Jack was the only one allowed to attend Hall’s autopsy secured the detective’s spot on Jack’s bad side. But there were a lot of things about Grafton that Jack didn’t like. Yes, there might be some “evidence” that pointed to Paige, but the man’s drive felt personal. Hopefully the detective’s background would shed some light on his motivation for being so intent on putting Paige away for murder.
[Brandon Fisher FBI 05.0] Violated Page 8