by Diane Capri
“All the more reason to get to Lawson. Find out.” Mercer floored the accelerator.
Jess sighed. There was no point in arguing. She could hear Morris in her head, cautioning her not to let him make matters worse. She’d make sure he didn’t go off the deep end. At least, she’d try.
Mercer slowed as they closed in on Lawson’s house. The neighborhood was similar to Palmer’s and Warner’s, but even more expensive. These high-end properties were a mixture of well-spaced, one- and two-story residences in modern styles, set well back from the road. They had elaborate driveways and gardens and lawns that required a crew to maintain. Each property had fences and tall pines protecting the homeowners from prying by their neighbors.
Mercer came to a stop by a short brick wall and a wrought iron gate. A broad drive led around the house to a garage in the rear. The two-story house would have commanding views from its place on the hill.
Jess checked the number stenciled on the curb. “This is Lawson’s.”
No light shone through the windows. Plantation shutters were closed, and the drapes were drawn behind them.
“Big place,” Mercer said. “But nobody home.”
Jess squinted toward the house. “Doesn’t it look like the front door is open?”
A bald man walked around the side of the house. He had broad shoulders and carried a cardboard box. His demeanor didn’t suggest he had just finished a frantic phone call establishing an alibi with Palmer. He stopped on the driveway, frowning at the cruiser.
Mercer grunted as he rolled out of the car. He threw open the rough iron gate and strode toward the house.
Jess rushed after Mercer. The gate was swinging back closed when she slid through.
“Can I help you?” said the man with the box in his hands.
Mercer waved his badge as he approached. “Police. We’re looking for Dr. Simon Lawson.”
The man shot a glance at Jess as she reached Mercer’s side. “I’m Simon Lawson.”
“We need a few minutes of your time, Dr. Lawson,” Mercer said, as if this was an official visit.
The man spoke to Jess. “Who are you?”
“Jessica Kimball. Taboo Magazine.” She reached for a card but realized she had left her bag in the cruiser.
He looked back at Mercer. “What’s this about?” He hoisted the box. “I’m kind of busy.”
“Argnot Corporation and Goldleaf Construction,” Mercer replied, matter-of-factly.
He frowned. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“You were Argnot’s president and managing member until you folded the company into bankruptcy a couple of years ago,” Jess said.
“I’m not sure where you got that story from, but I’m afraid this isn’t a good time.”
“Perhaps it would be better if you came down the station,” Mercer said. He turned and gestured to the cruiser. “Like, now.”
The man shuffled his weight from one side to the other. He pressed his lips together and glanced back at the house and the open front door. “Okay. We can talk for a few minutes inside. I’ve got something cooking.”
He led the way in through the front door. Jess followed Mercer. The hallway opened onto a sunken living room area to the right and a formal dining room on the left. A corridor with doors off it led straight ahead to a large kitchen and breakfast area. A faint, aromatic scent that Jess couldn’t quite place hung in the air.
The man kicked the front door closed and whipped a gun from the box.
Jess stepped back. Mercer didn’t move.
A man with a ponytail limped into the kitchen from the dining room. Jess had seen him twice before. Once at Melissa Green’s house. The second time, at the lake house. He held a large semiautomatic weapon in front of him, pointed her way.
Another man walked up the two steps from the living room. “Well, well, well.”
There was no mistaking that face. The scars were every bit as frightening in person as they’d been in the photographs.
“Norman Kemp,” Jess said. “Or do you prefer Hades?”
He looked at Jess and licked his lips. “I do like a reporter who does her research.” He laughed. “If only you had done a little bit more.”
“I did enough to find you.”
The man with the ponytail grunted. “You should learn to quit while you’re ahead.”
Jess eyed him warily. “I thought you should do the same.”
He hoisted the gun. “Looks like I’m the one who’s still ahead. Meet my friends,” Hades said. “Pony and Shorty.”
Shorty, the man who had claimed to be Lawson, rammed Mercer face-first against the wall. He ripped Mercer’s gun from his holster and tossed it down the corridor.
Pony stood two paces from Jess with his gun lazily pointed at her stomach.
Shorty kicked the back of Mercer’s legs. Mercer slid down the wall onto his knees. Shorty pressed the muzzle of his gun into the back of Mercer’s neck.
Hades took two quick steps toward Shorty. “Take him downstairs.”
Shorty pulled his gun back and dragged Mercer away from the wall.
Pony swung his gun in the direction of the door off the kitchen. “Out to the garage. Then down through the door on the left.”
Jess sensed more than saw the barrel of Pony’s gun move away from her. Without conscious thought, she threw her arm over Pony’s gun hand and wrenched the gun toward the front door.
Pony grunted.
Jess closed her hand around Pony’s trigger finger. The semiautomatic barked, loud and harsh in the confined environment. The recoil twisted the gun horizontally.
Hades yelped, dropped to the ground, and rolled backward into the living room.
Shorty grabbed his leg and screamed.
Mercer turned and drove a fist into Shorty’s chin. Shorty rolled to the side and went down hard. His head hit the floor with a solid thump.
Pony heaved a punch into Jess’s side, driving the air from her lungs. Her knees went weak. He ripped his gun arm free of her grasp.
Mercer pounded his fist into Shorty’s face, wrenched the gun from his hand, and fired at Pony.
Plaster dust erupted from the sheetrock beside Pony. He dove around the corner, firing a wild burst into the ceiling.
Mercer fired two shots into the living room and ran after Hades.
Jess threw herself toward the kitchen. Mercer’s gun was on the floor as the corridor opened into the kitchen. She crouched and ran for the weapon, her arms outstretched.
Somewhere in the house, multiple gunshots rang out.
The door from the kitchen to the garage sprung open.
Jess slowed.
A woman stepped into the doorway. She had a black gun in her hands. She held it like a movie star, elbows bent, pointing it upward. The woman was tall, her hair was dark, and her skin was devoid of makeup, but there was no mistaking Karen Warner’s face.
Jess angled left, her hands reaching for Mercer’s gun. She drove her shoulder into Warner’s ribs. Below her arm, where the bones are barely covered with cushioning flesh.
The gun went off. Jess felt the hot exhaust gasses wash over her hand. The muzzle flash illuminated the garage and the steps leading down through an open doorway.
Jess stamped her heel on Warner’s foot.
Warner snarled and ripped the gun upward and out of Jess’s grasp.
Jess threw a punch. Warner jerked her head back. Jess barely made contact.
Warner grunted as she brought the gun back down to aim.
Jess grabbed Warner’s elbow and forced her arm out straight to keep the gun pointed over her shoulder.
Jess leaned into Warner, her legs pushing hard.
Warner fell backward into the garage and stumbled through the doorway into the dark basement. Jess kept hold of her arm. Warner took the brunt of the fall onto the steps as they tumbled down.
The aromatic smell Jess had noticed upstairs was much stronger here. The air was saturated with gasoline.
Warner hit the h
ard cement floor first. Jess wedged a knee into Warner’s stomach. Warner bit down on Jess’s arm. Jess head-butted her on the ear.
Warner screamed and twisted. Jess rolled to her feet, kicking the gun from her hand.
Jess leaped after the gun, following the sound of clattering metal in the dark. She tumbled forward then her feet pulled away from under her when she stumbled upon something soft.
Pain burned her elbows as she hit a wet concrete floor. She reached out, kicking herself forward, fingers searching for the gun. The gasoline fumes assailed her eyes.
Warner grabbed Jess’s ankle.
Jess kicked as she wrapped her fingers around the gun and swept it forward as Warner dove at Jess.
The air was thick with highly flammable gasoline fumes, and the floor was soaked. The slightest spark would set it off.
Jess turned the gun in her hand. She raised the butt and brought it down with every ounce of strength she could muster on Karen Warner’s temple.
Warner screamed. Short, sharp, and livid.
Jess deflected Warner’s momentum and leaped to her feet.
Warner’s screaming turned to moans. Jess heard shuffling and grunting in the darkness.
She stepped backward, putting distance and reaction time between her and Warner. Her shoes splattered the gasoline as she moved.
The grunting became more urgent.
The gunfire upstairs had stopped.
At the top of the stairs, light spilled in when the door was opened wider.
The light revealed Warner curled against one wall. She wasn’t moving. In the middle of the floor were two bound figures. Against a pillar, a gagged woman was secured to a chair with duct tape.
The silhouette of a man appeared in the doorway at the top of the stairs, his breathing ragged and a gun in his hand.
Even with Shorty down, it had been two on one. Mercer against Hades and Pony. Not good odds.
The man stumbled down the first step.
This time, she had no choice. Jess raised her gun.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Wednesday, May 24
Santa Irene, Arizona
Jess gulped. She was standing in gasoline. People were lying in it. A spark or enough heat, and it would probably go off.
The man leaned against the wall as he staggered down another step into the basement.
Maybe she should shoot low. Something to inflict enough pain for her to get control of the situation. She adjusted her grip on the gun.
The man slid down the wall and sat on the stairs. The outline became familiar.
“Mercer?”
He nodded. “Jess,” he grunted.
Jess raced for the steps.
“Good,” said a voice.
Jess looked up. The silhouette of another man was in the doorway. He was on his knees with a gun in an outstretched hand. His broad shoulders and size made him unmistakable.
Hades.
He fired. A fat, popping sound. The bullet went wide. Plaster exploded around her as it tore a giant hole in the wall by her head.
Mercer twisted around as Jess whipped her gun up. With the door open, maybe she’d get away without igniting the fumes. If not, she was going to die anyway. Hades would kill them all.
She squeezed the trigger one-handed, the gun still moving. The weapon boomed in her hand.
Hades’ shoulder jerked backward.
She gripped tighter and squeezed the trigger. Again and again. Five booming shots as fast as her finger could move. The sound deafening in the basement room.
The swirling gasoline below her not gone, but forgotten.
Hades was tossed backward. He disappeared from view.
Mercer was on his feet, crouching and moving slowly up the stairs, gun first. He reached the doorway and knelt to examine Hades. “He’s definitely dead this time.”
“The others?” Jess said.
“Wait,” Mercer said as he walked out of the basement.
Jess found the light switch at the bottom of the stairs and flipped on the sickly green fluorescent lights.
The figures on the floor were writhing. They were all gagged. The girl in the chair was rocking it back and forth.
Jess rushed to the chair, and eased the duct tape from her mouth.
“Thank God,” she said. She nodded to the figures on the ground. “My parents.”
Jess pulled the gags from their mouths. They panted and gasped.
Mercer limped down the steps. “Police and ambulance on the way.” His voice was curt and hoarse. “Get them out of here.”
He cut the girl free from the chair. She slid to the floor and lay down.
Jess freed the couple’s hands and feet. They cried as they curled into fetal balls. They could barely move. The girl dragged herself to their side.
“Simon Lawson,” Jess said.
The man nodded.
Mercer helped the girl up the steps. Jess did the same with Simon and the woman.
In the corridor, Hades was on his back in a pool of blood. One leg was twisted under him, and his chest was a mess of wet flesh.
Jess ushered the Lawsons around him.
Mrs. Lawson stumbled to the kitchen and vomited. The girl rushed to comfort her. Mr. Lawson slumped onto the sofa.
Shorty was on the stairs, his head hung down, and his arms taped to the banister.
“I’m never going to look at duct tape the same again,” Jess said.
Mercer grunted, and pointed across the kitchen.
Pony lay on his back. His blood-covered shirt was riddled with bullet holes, and his eyes were closed.
Julia was on the ground, her arms wrapped around an archway column and her wrists bound with handcuffs. Her eyes radiated hate.
Mercer patted the gun in Jess’s hand. “Watch them.”
She nodded.
He went upstairs. A minute later he returned with two little boys. They were pale. He walked them down the driveway and put them in the back of the cruiser. He started the engine, probably to turn on the air conditioning for them.
Julia shifted her weight. Jess adjusted her grip on the gun, keeping it pointed at her center mass.
Mercer limped in and out of the house. He carried large plastic cans of gasoline, and piled them at the far end of the lawn.
Jess kept her attention on the people in the house. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice Mercer’s limp and near constant grimace.
“I’ve carried out as much of the fuel as I could find,” he said, drawing up a chair beside Jess. He looked exhausted. “I called for backup when I put the boys in the squad car. They should be here soon.”
Mrs. Lawson talked quietly to her daughter. Simon Lawson sat motionless nearby.
Mercer and Jess sat in silence until a SWAT team appeared on the rear patio. They were covered in bulletproof gear and led with automatic weapons.
Jess made an exaggerated show of placing her gun on the ground and holding her hands up.
Mercer held out his badge.
The SWAT team spread out, evaluating the people in the house, assessing the dangers, securing the weapons.
They handcuffed the living and moved them into the backyard, away from the risk of fire. They separated everyone into two groups—the Lawsons, and those who had invaded the house.
Ambulances arrived. The medics stretchered away the injured. Simon Lawson was wheeled to the curb and into an ambulance.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
One week later
Denver, Colorado
Jess had spent the past week working on her article and listening to all the negative reports from her team of private investigators. Not even Mandy’s new boyfriend, Trent Brennan, had found a new lead. With effort, Jess pushed her disappointment aside while she sat in Carter Pierce’s office. He had his head down, reading her article.
Thelma brought coffee in a French press and a plate of cookies. She smiled, placed them on a table by Jess, and left.
Jess pushed the plunger down on the coffee a
nd poured herself a cup. Carter didn’t go in for mugs. He was a cup and saucer man, the aristocratic end of old school. She grinned. Perhaps she should introduce him to Fred Wilson one day. If nothing else, to see the look of horror on his face as Fred taught him to shoot.
Carter flipped over the last page and looked up. “I asked too much of you.”
She blew on her hot coffee. “Not that you’ve ever done that before.”
“I think on those occasions you were mostly responsible for your own dilemmas.”
She laughed. “Dilemmas?”
He smiled. “It pains me to think of those situations as they really were.” He waved her article. “This, too.”
She sipped a fraction of her too hot coffee. “I lived to tell the tale.”
“How’s Mercer?”
“His leg is healing. He’s on administrative leave. He should recover, physically. Santa Irene PD has recommended him for a medal.”
“Good.” Carter’s smile faded. “Your biographies on Melissa Green and the police officers killed at her house were beautiful.”
“Nothing is going to bring those men back, but I felt it was the least I could do for their families.” She paused. “It’s sad that I could find no one to mourn Melissa.”
“We’ll lead with this on the front page.” Carter grimaced. “These men died in the line of duty. And someone should mourn Melissa, even if we’re the only ones. It’s not enough, but at least Taboo is doing something.”
Jess nodded, but the lump in her throat prevented speech. Carter was one of the most supportive, kind men she’d ever met. His patience with her focus on finding her son bordered on saintly. His loyalty was absolute. And so was hers.
He took a deep breath. “Are you going back to Arizona to cover the court case?”
“I found a good lawyer for Benny’s sons. She says she’ll do the best she can to try to get money for them from Palmer, but the case is not solid.” Jess shook her head. “Dr. Warner’s murder conviction will be set aside, but it’ll be done by consent without any kind of hearing. Nothing much to cover there. He’ll be charged with fraud and tax evasion for his part in the emergency room scam. But if he’s smart, he’ll work out a deal and stay out of any public hearing on that one, too.”