I clicked off, zipping the phone back into my pocket. Staying within the shadows of the pine trees, I used the grove of trees as cover, moving toward the back of the property, past where anyone in the garage could see me. Connor had insisted on staying behind cover the whole way to the house, but now that I knew Jepsen was moving between the house and the garage, I didn’t see any point in skulking. The garage didn’t have a window on this side, so, after another visual sweep of the lawn, I ran for it. I dashed across the lush grass, straight toward the garage wall. Once there, I put my back against the wall, catching my breath. I signaled a thumbs-up to the bushes where Connor was hidden, knowing he’d be fuming over my failing, once again, to take orders. He didn’t move.
Dropping to my knees, I crawled to the end of the wall. Taking a deep breath, I peered around the corner, darting back when I saw Jepsen walking toward the interior door of the garage. My heart pounded at the close call. I checked to see that my near miss hadn’t sent Connor charging from the bushes. There was no sign of him. I heaved a sigh, grateful that I hadn’t exposed his position to Jepsen.
I heard a door slam. They must be getting ready to leave. I did a quick peek around the corner, relieved to see that the trunk was still open. Jepsen must have gone back into the house through the garage. Jepsen was nowhere to be seen, so I risked rising, noting through the rear window the boxes filling the backseat. What the hell was I going to do now?
Pulling back out of view against the outside garage wall, I gestured madly, trying to get Connor’s attention. I’d never be able to face Emma with the news that Jepsen had gotten away. Where the hell was Connor? And why wouldn’t he come? He wouldn’t have just left me.
I stared at the bushes where we’d secreted ourselves. No movement. No sign that anyone was there. I knew Connor wouldn’t just leave me hanging. He must have a plan. God, I was such an idiot. Of course he had a plan. Which was exactly why he’d gotten rid of me. Well, if he thought I was going to play the helpless female waiting while a man did all the dirty work, he was in for a shock. I looked for a stick or a rock, anything I could use as a weapon. Nothing. Damn those lawn services, anyway. Why the hell did they have to manicure everything to within an inch of its life? Wait a minute. What better place to find a weapon than a garage? Listening carefully, I waited a full minute without hearing a sound. I took the chance. On the other side of the wall I’d been leaning against, I hit the mother lode. Rakes and shovels leaned against the wall, three-quarters of the way into the garage.
“What are you doing?” Connor whispered behind me.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. I turned and glared, then hit him on the shoulder.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“We’re going. Right now.” Connor pulled on my arm.
“No way. We’re here. We might as well look around.” I moved to the open trunk of the car.
“They could come back any second.”
“So, we’ll hurry. We won’t get caught. Rule number one, remember?” I undid the zipper on a suitcase and started going through the clothes.
“Women,” Connor muttered, taking the lid off a box and starting to go through the papers. “Can’t live with them; can’t shoot them.”
“I heard that.”
I finished rummaging through the suitcase and went around the car. The backseat was locked, so I reached through the open driver’s window just as the muffled sound of voices heralded Jepsen’s return. I dropped onto my hands and knees, behind the shield of the car. Connor came from the back of the car and pushed me flat against the concrete. The door opened. Two voices and the click of heels against concrete. Connor rammed me under the car and crawled under after me. My face was turned toward my side so I couldn’t see Connor’s expression. Probably just as well.
“We’ll get the money. We’ll take the disk and pay some kid to hack for us. He’ll never even know what we’re looking for,” Jepsen’s voice boomed into the small garage. I could see two pairs of shoes, one highly polished black loafers and the other stiletto pumps.
“That’s all we need. More loose ends,” the secretary sarcastically flung back.
The heels started to walk out of my field of vision but were yanked back, one shoe flipping off and landing just inches from where I was hiding. I swallowed hard, my throat dust-dry.
“I don’t want to hear any more crap from you. We’re gonna get the fucking money and then we’re getting the hell out of here.”
“You’ve been promising that for months. We’re still here.” The secretary didn’t take his threat seriously. The sound of a slap and a surprised cry from the woman had me flinching.
“Hey, why’d you do that? I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“Shut the fuck up, Arlene.”
“Why do you always have to go hittin’ on me?” Click, clomp—she moved away from the loafers, heels tapping against the concrete. “I treat you real good and then you go beatin’ on me. It ain’t right, Henry.” She clickclomp ed over to her discarded pump. A hand reached for it and her purse fell, a lipstick clinking against the floor. The tube rolled under the car within an inch of my nose. Before I could react, she’d knelt down and was looking under the car.
“Hey,” she cried. “What are you doin’ under there?”
Connor was already moving, sliding out from under the car like smoke under a door.
“What the fuck are you doing in my garage? Get out.” Jepsen spewed real venom.
“There’s no need for the gun,” Connor said calmly. “Sara, stay under the car.”
The secretary was half under the car with me, reaching out and trying to grab me. I slapped at her hands. I snatched at her purse, pulling it under the car. Desperately searching for a weapon, anything I could use, I started yanking things out of the little clutch bag. Compact, makeup bag, tissues, Day-Timer, keys. Nothing. No gun. No pocketknife. Not even nail clippers. I grabbed the keys. Putting the little plastic remote entry gadget and the key ring in my palm, I laced the keys between my fingers. She made another grab for me but I kicked at her.
“Get out from there,” Jepsen ordered. “Get out or I’ll shoot him.”
“Don’t do it, Sara.”
He fired a round that pinged off the concrete, and I flinched.
“The next one I’m putting in his head. Get out of there.”
I couldn’t let him die. Connor might kill me later, but I just couldn’t hide under the car while Jepsen shot him. I would have gone out toward Connor, but he’d positioned himself halfway along the car’s side, his legs and feet blocking the way. I inched over to the secretary’s side, keeping my makeshift brass knuckles out of view. The secretary grabbed my arm and yanked me as I emerged. She pulled so hard that I fell into her and we slammed against the wall, sending tools in all directions.
“Hey,” Jepsen yelled, before another gunshot and the sound of bone hitting bone.
I was running toward the open garage door with the secretary behind me when I stepped on the tines of a rake that had fallen from the rack on the wall. The handle flew up on the fulcrum and I dodged aside just in time for the wood handle to make thudding contact with the secretary’s nose. I stopped, staring, as she screamed and blood gushed.
“This is the police. I want to see everyone’s hands.” I turned around, my hands raised high. Sergeant Wesley had arrived.
I looked at Connor and our eyes caught. He didn’t seem hurt. His hands were up, and there was a tear in his T-shirt near the collar, but other than that he seemed fine. Fuming, but fine.
Chapter Thirty-four
Connor closed the apartment door behind us with a click. I walked through to the living room and headed straight to the cupboard for a glass. Moving to the refrigerator, I reached for the pitcher of lemonade before changing my mind. Nine o’clock in the morning notwithstanding, I needed a beer. Setting my empty glass next to the juice, I reached for a bottle.
Sergeant Wesley had grilled us all night, taking
shifts with an even more irritable lieutenant from the homicide division. They wanted to know everything and they wanted to know it ten times over. Connor had more patience than I did, obviously believing that cooperation gave us a better chance of dodging arrest for obstruction, interfering with police, or whatever else they could charge us with. I figured they wouldn’t charge us with anything, since they’d probably need us as key witnesses in the murder trial of Henry Jepsen, and they’d want us to at least appear credible.
Wesley walked us out the door of the Public Safety building with the news that Henry Jepsen was being held for felonious assault for the shot he took at Connor. The secretary was already looking for a deal, and Wesley assured us that Mitchell Burke’s death was going to be reinvestigated with an eye to charging both of them with murder. There was Cort’s murder, too. Maybe they’d get the hat trick and find the money. It wouldn’t bring Mitchell back to Emma, but it was something. Wesley was almost human about it.
I twisted off the top and drank half the beer while absorbing the cold blast of the open refrigerator. Finally pushing the door closed, I returned to the living room and dropped into an armchair. I could hear the shower running. Connor had spent the entire drive from the police station in controlled silence. I preferred yelling. This silence was making me crazy. We’d caught the bad guy, hadn’t we? He should be happy. I was. Or I would be after I got a little sleep. I was just tired. Maybe he was, too. That was it. A quick shower, a short nap, and we’d be ready to celebrate Jepsen’s impending incarceration.
Connor came into the room, his blond hair darkened to sable by the shower. He was wearing a crisp white T-shirt that hugged the muscles of his chest and tailored khaki shorts with a plain brown belt. He was strapping his watch to his wrist as he settled onto the couch. Exhausted or not, I could certainly appreciate the view.
“Do you want to grab a shower before?” Connor asked.
“Before what?” A shiver of anticipation slid along my spine. Maybe I wasn’t that tired after all.
“Before we have the fight we’ve been headed for all week.” He wasn’t smiling.
“Fight?”
“Fight.” A second look confirmed that he wasn’t just not smiling; he was actually looking pretty grim.
“Why would we be fighting?” I stayed slouched in my chair, but I could feel my entire body brace.
“Because you didn’t do what we agreed on. Because it nearly got you killed. Because you ended up without a weapon, face-to-face with a guy we knew was a murderer.” His voice was so deep and calm, I might have missed how enraged he was if I weren’t carefully watching him. It was in his eyes. The beautiful emerald had darkened almost to black. Eyes really could shoot sparks. I’d never actually seen it before. I was more fascinated than alarmed. Gripping the arms of my chair, I pushed myself a little farther upright.
“Look, Connor, things were happening kind of fast.”
“You should have waited for me. Like we agreed.” He stressed the last three words.
“He was going to get away.”
“I had it under control. If you’d just let me protect you . . .”
Now I was getting mad. I pushed myself out of the chair and stood next to the coffee table, my hands on my hips, glaring down at him.
“Let you protect me? I don’t need your protection. This may come as a surprise to you, Connor, but I managed fine before you got here. I can even tie my own shoes, if it comes to that.”
He stood and faced me, his arms hanging loose at his sides.
“This was different. This was a guy with a gun.”
“And I was handling it.”
“You wouldn’t have had to handle it if you had just done what you were told,” he yelled, his outward composure finally cracking. “Look—Sara,” he tried in a gentler tone.
Finally catching fire, the tinder of my own anger exploded.
“Done what I was told? What I was told? What are you now, my lord and master?” I yelled back, the blood thundering in my head. I stepped around the coffee table, coming within inches of him, my hands clenching.
Connor held his hands out to his sides, his palms facing me. “This is not about that, Sara.”
“What is it about then, Connor? If it’s not about keeping the little woman under your thumb, then what is it about?”
“It’s about you in the same room—the same zip code—with a known killer.” Connor reached out and held my shoulders, managing to get an edge of calm back, but mine was out of reach.
“You don’t need to do anything about it. In the future, if there is something to be done, I will do it.” I spun and strode to the side table, snagging my beer and slamming the remaining liquid in one long drink.
“In the future? There’s not going to be an ‘in the future’ for this, Sara. The case is over. This is over.”
I carefully set my bottle back on the table before turning to face him.
“Oh, really.” My heart pounded in my chest, but I deliberately kept my words even. “Well, brace yourself, Connor, because I’m pretty good at this job. And I don’t see any reason to be doing credit checks the rest of my life. I don’t intend to be pushing papers forever. And who knows? Felons may become part of my daily existence.” I crossed my arms across my chest and waited.
“No.” Connor’s voice was a croak, and his skin had gone gray.
“Yes.”
The phone rang and we both flinched. Neither of us moved as the phone rang again and again. Each shrill turned the tension in the room higher. After several rings, the answering machine finally picked up with a click.
“You can’t ask me to—”
“I’m not asking,” he exploded. “I forbid it.”
Chapter Thirty-five
The door was slamming behind me before I even thought about my keys. For that matter, I hadn’t bothered to grab my wallet, either, so my financial resources were limited to whatever I might have in my pockets. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going back in and looking like an idiot. I was already feeling plenty stupid. He was so maddening; I just wanted to strangle him. I could actually see my hands reaching for his throat. I waited at the door. He should be out here begging my forgiveness. He was wrong, wrong, wrong. There should at a minimum be sounds of crashing glass and thwarted temper seeping around the door’s edges. Nothing. It was quiet as a tomb in there. I leaned my ear up against the thick wood. Silence. First he was wrong, then he was calm about it? Strangling was too good for him. I needed something that would last longer. A lot longer.
I marched down the stairs to Russ’s apartment. I pounded on the door. Connor was a relic. He should have been born in the caveman days. He would have fit right in with the rest of the Neanderthals. The door opened abruptly and I stormed through, practically pushing Russ out of my way.
“Did I wake you?” Russ was pulling at the sash of his navy robe. “Sorry.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“He forbids me. He actually said it that way. Forbids me! Of all the egocentric, chauvinistic, pigheaded—”
“Sara, honey, now is not really a good time.”
“He’s my lord and master and I should do whatever he wants.”
“I’m sort of in the middle of—”
“Who the hell does he think he is? He can do anything he wants and never even has to discuss it with me, and I am supposed to not only tell him every little detail, but then I need his permission.” Russ began to tidy the room, picking up a pair of trousers left next to the sofa. I began to pace, dodging a pair of polished loafers and a silk tie.
“I would really like to help, but now isn’t the—”
“Marriage is not slavery. Do you think marriage is slavery?” I pointed at him. “Of course not. You are an enlightened man. You understand that women actually come equipped with brains.”
Russ removed a wine bottle from the coffee table and placed it on the counter separating his lushly appointed living room from the kitchen. “I’m definitely enlightened. I’m a
lso a little busy.”
“Stop with the cleaning already.” I rounded the overstuffed armchair and strode the length of the room before turning to face Russ. “You wouldn’t keep taking your clothes off every time you wanted your own way. You would not try to blind me with sex.”
“He blinds you with sex?”
“Sounds like someone I should meet,” a new voice interjected from the hallway.
I pivoted, staring at the stranger. Short and dark, with teeth that flashed white against his tan. His hair was rumpled, his oxford shirt misbuttoned, and his feet were bare. Horrified, I turned back to Russ. His hastily sashed robe finally registered.
“You’re busy. I’ll just come back later.” I wanted to slink from the room. I headed for the door, not daring to look at Russ’s guest.
Russ stepped in front of me, barring my progress.
“I’ve really got to go now,” I muttered.
“No way you drop a line like that and then race out the door. Tony, meet my best friend, Sara Townley. Sara, this is Dr. Anthony Martelli.”
Tony joined us in the foyer and offered his hand. I shook it without looking up.
“How do you do?” I mumbled.
“Nice to meet you, Sara.”
Russ put his arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the sofa, settling me onto a cushion before dropping down beside me. Tony opted for the armchair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.
“So what’s this about seduction? And don’t leave anything out.”
“This can really be handled at a later time. I’m sorry I interrupted.” I tried to stand up but Russ yanked my arm and I was forced back into a sitting position.
“Don’t worry about Tony. I told him all about your shotgun wedding.”
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