by Debra Webb
“It’s just a flesh wound.” He showed her where the bullet had entered and exited his trouser leg. “I’ll live.”
“Is EMS on the way, too?”
He nodded. “Captain Allen as well. I figured GTF needed in on this.”
“You figured right, Sergeant,” Jess acknowledged. Damn it all to hell. “Let’s get you inside and off that leg.”
“Backup is almost here, ma’am. I should wait for their arrival. But it would be best if you waited inside.”
Like hell. Jess tightened her grip on her Glock. “I think I’ll take my chances with you, Sergeant.”
5
10:00 p.m.
“How long you think we’ll be safe here?”
DeShawn Simmons paced the worn carpet. This motel was too close to his neighborhood. He didn’t care that it was a dump, but wouldn’t the trouble they were trying to escape be turning this side of town upside down? And what about DeShawn’s grandparents? This was too close to them. He didn’t want them pulled into this whacked-out situation.
This was too close. Too close, and still he couldn’t let them know he was here. They would be worried. His grandfather didn’t need this kind of stress.
Nina ignored him as if he hadn’t said a word. She just kept staring out the dingy motel window. She’d acted funny ever since they made the decision to leave their lives and Birmingham behind.
The whole thing had been her idea. He hadn’t wanted to go. His grandparents needed him. She just kept saying they were doing okay and he had to grow up and be a man.
That was what he was trying to do now and she wasn’t listening. They hadn’t run anywhere. What was she waiting for?
How was he supposed to protect her from those low-life gangbangers if she wouldn’t listen?
“Didn’t you hear me?” DeShawn strode to the window and glared down at her. She made him so angry. He wanted to shake her. But she’d already suffered enough. The bruises from her last beating were only now fading.
She looked up at him and his chest ached. Man, he loved her so much. He wished he could take back the words. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was scared to death and his grandparents would be freaking out by now.
“Nina, you—”
“Baby.” She took his hands in hers and smiled, her big brown eyes hopeful. “You have to trust me. This is the only way. If he finds us, we’re dead.” She pulled away from him, hugged her arms around herself. “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’ll never be rid of him. I should’ve stayed and let him kill me. Then it would be over.”
DeShawn reached for her, pulled her against him. It was the only time he felt right, with her next to him. “Don’t say that, baby girl. We’ll figure this out.” He stroked her long silky hair. “I just wish I could let my grandparents know I’m okay. They worry about me.”
She hugged him hard, the sound of her voice vibrating against his chest as she spoke. “If you told them anything and he found out, he would do terrible things to them.” Her gaze moved up to DeShawn’s once more. “Believe me, I’ve seen what he can do when he wants to hurt someone.”
“We can’t hide like this forever.” He was supposed to start Jeff State next month. His grandparents were depending on him. As much as he loved Nina, he didn’t want to let them down. His grandmother would tell him that this was a fine time to think about that. He’d made his bed hard and now he would have to lie in it.
Nina grabbed his hands and pulled him down to the floor. “Let’s pray, Shawney. Our heavenly Father will help us make the right decisions.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “He’s gotten us this far and we’re still alive.”
DeShawn closed his eyes and tried to focus on her words. As hard as he tried to pay attention, in his mind, where she wouldn’t hear, he said a prayer of his own.
Dear Father, please keep my grandparents safe. Watch after them if I don’t make it through this.
He opened his eyes and watched as Nina fervently begged for God’s guidance and protection. She wanted so bad to be away from the gang life. DeShawn wanted just as bad to help her. To keep her safe for the rest of her life.
And, Father, he prayed, forgive me for loving this girl so much that I had to keep secrets from my grandparents. Help us, Father, we’re in bad trouble.
Rubber screamed against the cracked concrete outside their room. The screeching echoed right through the paper-thin walls.
Nina’s head jerked up, her eyes wide with fear.
DeShawn’s heart rammed against his rib cage. “Get under the bed,” he told her. “I’ll run. While they’re chasing me you can get away.” His voice shook with his own fear. He had to be strong. Had to be brave.
She held on tight to his hands and shook her head. “No. If we die, we’ll die together.”
6
Howard Johnson Inn, 11:50 p.m.
The hot water relaxed her muscles and seeped deep into her bones. Jess exhaled a chestful of tension and eased lower into the water. It might not be a jetted tub or even one with bubbles, but filled with hot, steamy water this old motel tub did the trick. And as long as she kept her eyes closed she could imagine that she was surrounded by sleek travertine and glistening fixtures. The fragrance of vanilla bean drifted from the candle she’d picked up at Walmart and parked on the toilet tank.
Cracking one eye open she reached for the plastic cup of wine perched on the toilet lid. The sweet white pleasure was room temperature, but after three generous cups she was well on her way to not caring. The flickering flame of the candle gave the dark, cramped room a hint of ambiance.
She cleared her mind of work—especially those damned shoes Darcy Chandler should have been wearing as she took that fatal plunge. Not her case. Finding DeShawn Simmons and analyzing the Druid Hills gang problem was the only case on her agenda. Captain Ted Allen from the Gang Task Force had provided an on-the-spot and comprehensive briefing into his investigation of the gang activities in Birmingham. Based on what Harper had told her, Allen had done an outstanding job, but the problem was out of control. He needed help. He needed SPU.
And DeShawn Simmons needed to be found. Allen couldn’t connect Simmons with any gang members or activities on his radar. Ordinarily that might prove fortunate, but since Jess was better than ninety percent certain his disappearance was gang related, the lack of available information was rather unfortunate. Jess told Allen as much. If he monitored this territory as thoroughly as he claimed, why wasn’t he aware of Simmons and some gang leader’s ex-girlfriend named Nina? Allen had no answer for her.
After the drive-by situation was wrapped up at the Simmons home, Jess had dropped by the ER to ensure that Harper was patched up and had a way home since she was driving his SUV—which, incredibly, had survived with less damage than if he’d driven through an unexpected hailstorm. She’d requested a security detail for the Simmons home for the next couple of days. Though she suspected the intent of the shooters had been to send a message to the cops, if the intent had been to show the cops who was boss by taking one or more out, then tonight’s shooters were scandalously bad shots. With her and Harper out in the open like that, even a half-assed shot should have been able to do better than grazing a thigh.
For Jess, the message was loud and clear. DeShawn Simmons crossed the wrong person and had paid the price. If his grandparents insisted on pursuing the matter, there would be trouble. But what those thugs needed to bear in mind was that their problem was Jess, not the grandparents.
If, as she suspected, Simmons’s disappearance was related to MS-13, that reality added a whole new layer of ugliness to the situation. MS-13, Mara Salvatrucha, represented a growing and mobile threat in most communities. They were fearless and used the most violent tactics. As recruiters they were relentless, as enemies ruthless. Their range of criminal activities was broad and varied. Drugs, murder, prostitution, robbery, you name it. There was little they wouldn’t do and violence was always the overwhelming theme. Their members were either immensely loyal
or stone-cold dead.
She and Harper were damned lucky that, for whatever reasons, this evening’s warning had been decidedly nonlethal. It didn’t quite fit unless that was only the preview before the main event.
To her surprise Burnett hadn’t shown up at the scene or at the hospital. Usually he was Johnny-on-the-spot to do the protector thing. Which would have provided the opportunity for her to demand why he’d kept Helen Simmons’s request from her. Why not just tell her that she couldn’t stay on the Chandler case because she had been requested by the family of a possible victim in another case?
Helen Simmons had prayed for Jess’s help after watching the news. Had she missed the part about how badly Jess had screwed up the Player case?
Evidently so.
Jess squeezed her eyes shut and forced images of Eric Spears and Matthew Reed from her head. Spears, the Player, had gotten away. A serial killer with dozens of murders on his score sheet, and he had slipped through their fingers.
Through her fingers. Not once but twice.
His protégé, Matthew Reed, hadn’t been so lucky. He was dead. The sound of the bullet exploding from her Glock echoed in her brain. She’d had no choice. She’d do it again if necessary. Reed had killed Special Agent Nora Miller and he’d very nearly done the same to Realtor Belinda Howard just last week. The bureau had since learned that Reed had killed his own parents and planted them in the backyard of their West Coast home. Those three murders were documented. There was no way to know how many others he’d murdered. As much as she believed in and respected the justice system, there were those who didn’t deserve a trial… who didn’t deserve even the most remote opportunity to repeat their heinous acts.
Matthew Reed had been one of those people.
Didn’t matter to the powers that be that she had used that single bullet fired from her weapon on a twisted killer who would have kept on killing as long as he had breath in him. She still had to deal with the consequences. The internal review into her actions was ongoing, and that included a psych eval.
“Whoop-de-do.” Who didn’t want some shrink crawling around inside their head? She had a degree in psychology, for heaven’s sake. Another human being was dead because of her. Yes, she understood that. She had committed the ultimate violent act against a living being. Got it. But it was either kill him or allow him to keep killing innocent people at the bidding of an even more evil man. She had made the right decision. The only decision.
Given the chance, she would put a bullet between Spears’s eyes as well. A smart man would never allow himself to get that close to her again. But maybe even the most brilliant of evil men had temptations they couldn’t resist. If she needed to test that theory, all she had to do was consider that Spears still contacted her when the right occasion presented itself.
He’d had the audacity to text her before boarding a commercial airliner to flee the country just five days ago. The bureau had lost him and Jess hadn’t heard from him since. But she had a feeling that he wasn’t finished playing his games with her just yet.
Until next time.
“That’s right, Spears. I’ll get you next time.”
If Burnett found out the peace lily plant sent to the hospital when he was recovering from last week’s stabbing had come from Spears, he would be fit to be tied. Spears had apparently placed the order before boarding that flight out of JFK. He could be anywhere now. Part of her hoped he stayed wherever the hell that was, but another, more twisted part of her wanted to end this once and for all. Wanted to ensure he never killed again. Burnett, on the other hand, would prefer that Spears never got anywhere near her again. The problem with that scenario was that letting him close might just be the only way to get a killer like Spears. Dangle the bait and wait. That was precisely the reason she couldn’t tell Burnett about any contact with the bastard. As long as Spears had some sort of twisted attraction to her there was a chance she might find herself face-to-face with him again.
Jess sipped her room-temperature wine as she recalled a line from on old Clint Eastwood movie. “Go ahead, Spears, make my day.”
Just further proof that she actually did need that psych eval. Poor Mrs. Simmons. She had prayed for Jess’s help. Bless her heart.
Pounding on the door made her jump. She dropped her plastic cup in the tub. “Shit.”
She felt on the floor next to the tub for her Glock, her heart racing a hundred miles per hour, and snatched it up. Who the hell would be at her door at this hour?
So much for her Dirty Harry attitude.
Weapon in hand, she stood, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around her. One dripping foot hit the floor, then the other. She eased the bathroom door open and listened. Besides the candle, the dim glow from the table lamp by the bed was the only other illumination in the motel room that currently served as her home.
She mentally ran down the list of people who knew her temporary address. Wouldn’t be Harper. He would call first. Lori, maybe? Jess doubted she would show up without calling first either.
Another round of pounding followed by, “Jess! You in there?”
She rolled her eyes. Burnett.
“Hold your horses!”
Where was her robe? Closet. After placing her weapon on the counter, she swabbed her damp skin with the towel, then tossed it aside and grabbed her robe.
“Coming!”
At the door, she drew in a deep breath and wished she had taken the time to comb her hair. The wild mess was pinned haphazardly on top of her head. Unfortunately she wasn’t one of those women who could pull off the freshly-risen-from-tousled-sheets look.
Be that as it may, she unlocked and opened the door. “I was trying to relax in the tub. What’s up?” Why didn’t you call? she didn’t bother tacking on.
If she had her guess, he was here to scold her about not being better prepared in a neighborhood like Druid Hills. Or for making that comment to Captain Allen about his Gang Task Force having completely missed the Simmons connection. Oddly enough, Allen had taken her dressing down pretty well.
One look at Burnett’s grim expression and she decided that maybe Allen hadn’t taken it so well after all.
She’d built her reputation on crossing lines. Why was Burnett or anyone else surprised at her tactics? Actually, he should be here checking on her well-being. Not to mention her top detective’s.
“What happened tonight?” Burnett demanded.
“It’s almost midnight. Are you just now getting the news?” He was the chief of police. Didn’t someone inform him when there were bullets fired at one of his deputy chiefs? And what was with the two cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee? He towered in her doorway, a cup in each hand. A peace offering? Chocolate would have been a better choice.
Or more wine.
For two weeks she had fussed at him about checking up on her and worrying about every little thing she did and doing the protector thing. Oddly, after being shot at, she was a little miffed at not getting any of that.
She mentally added wishy-washiness to her list of reasons the psych eval was a good thing.
Those blue eyes that she quite often felt could see through brick walls and definitely could see through her big fat lies searched her face before skimming her robe-clad body. “Are you all right?”
She relented and backed up. “Get in here before my neighbors mistake you for a drug connection or a pimp.”
“After this weekend I suspect it’s too late to avoid all sorts of conclusions.” He came inside and closed the door. “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over what the regulars in this neighborhood thought.”
The heat that swept through her like a flash fire whenever she thought about this past weekend scorched her now. Frustrated the hell out of her. Twenty-some years ago they had been madly in love and then he’d given up on them and walked away. Before a couple weeks ago she hadn’t even seen him in ten years. Another annoying flash fire roared through her at the memory of them running into each other in a Publix supermarket that Christma
s over a decade ago. They’d ended up in bed together that time too.
What did it say about her that she kept repeating that particular mistake?
“Don’t start again with where I live.” This motel was only temporary. She had to sell her house in Stafford before she could consider buying one here. Unlike the Dentons and the Burnetts of the world, she couldn’t afford to own two houses at the same time and drive luxury vehicles to boot. Besides, she might not even opt to buy another house. She was rarely home. Why not just get an apartment or condo? Who needed all the lawn maintenance responsibility? She kind of liked knowing that stuff was taken care of. This secret would go to her grave with her, but she had grown somewhat attached to having a maid as well. Not that the one here was that great, but not having to worry about vacuuming or making the bed was a serious perk.
All those years she had castigated Katherine Burnett for being too lazy to clean her own house. Well, now she knew.
He held up the coffee. “You’re right. No more low-rent-district jabs.” He offered her one of the cups. “I know it’s late. I brought coffee. Thought we could catch up on what happened this evening.”
That he still wore the charcoal suit he’d been wearing at work today told her he hadn’t been home yet. He worked too hard. But the fine lines all that responsibility had etched into his handsome face just made him look distinguished. Unlike her, he pulled off the rumpled look as if he’d taken lessons from George Clooney.
“I don’t want any coffee. Are you just leaving the office?”
The instantaneous and complete lockdown that closed his expression gave her the answer before he opened his mouth to offer whatever excuse he was clearly scrambling to dredge up.
It was too late to take back the question. Mortified, she suppressed a groan. That they had shared the bed only a few feet behind her for most of Saturday and Sunday didn’t give either of them controlling stock in the other’s business. They had rules about that. Sort of.
“I had dinner with Annette at Bottega’s. We needed to talk about Andrea.” He shrugged, the gesture too quick and blatantly stilted. “She’s having a tough time and after today it’s only going to get worse. I didn’t realize my cell was on silent until I was headed home.”