Count on a Cop 49 - Julianna Morris

by Honor Bound

  “Bull. I got it working on my car.”

  “Is that so? We found drops of blood in Mrs. Lawson’s house. I think the tests will show that it’s yours—that you left them after her cat nailed you. Frodo doesn’t like intruders very much, does he? He’s an unusual guard dog, but effective.”

  Frank grew steadily whiter.

  “Then there’s my uncle’s accident. Somebody sabotaged his truck and damned near killed him. I’m guessing we can find fingerprints or your DNA somewhere on that old wreck still sitting in impound.” Ben was taking a gamble—the chances of finding anything on Henry’s truck were slim to none, but Frank might not know that. “The charges keep adding up. We might as well throw away the key—unless you cut a deal. And that means informing us about everything, right now.”

  “I can’t. You don’t know my boss,” Frank blurted out. “He’s a dangerous son of a bitch. He’ll kill me. Slowly. Personally.”

  Ben leaned forward and fixed him with a cold gaze. “Do you think I care what he does to you? You tried to kill my uncle. You stalked Kelly Lawson. You broke into her house and then tried to abduct her. You want to talk personal? If you don’t help us catch your boss and the rest of his organization I will personally make sure he believes you ratted him out and let him have you.”

  “I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Frank said desperately. “Not if I didn’t have to. But I had to sidetrack you and the other cops so we could get one last shipment in safely. After that we were going to move the whole operation.”

  Agent McCord set a tape recorder on the table. “Spill it. Keep in mind that Simon Pollard was not only an FBI agent and my partner, but the best friend I’ve ever had…and you’re connected to his murder. So you’d better make it good, or I’ll be the one helping to feed you to your boss.”

  He pressed a button on the recorder.

  Defeated, Frank began to talk. He confessed to sabotaging Henry’s truck and convincing his brother to make him police chief. The position had placed him in an ideal spot to control where Sand Point police officers were at any given time so that the shipments could come through undetected.

  “But I wasn’t trying to kill the old man,” Frank said quickly. “Just put him out of action because we had a shipment arriving and he noticed too much. Never guessed he’d retire. That was sweet.”

  Ben’s jaw hardened. He wanted to squash the bastard. He reminded himself that good cops didn’t squash suspects, they let the courts hand out justice. “Why was Simon Pollard killed? The homeless man.”

  Frank suddenly looked less self-assured. “My boss, Hong Cho, he noticed the bum was around all the time, watching and drawing pictures. Cho didn’t like it, so he took care of him.”

  “But why kill Bryant, and how do Mrs. Lawson’s novels tie into this?”

  “Uh, well, I may have mentioned the books to Cho and how there’s a homeless guy in one of them who gets killed. Cho checked them out and it gave him ideas for some damage control.”

  “You mean killing Harvey Bryant,” said Agent McCord. “Why Bryant?”

  “People hated him.” Frank’s lip curled. “That guy acted as if he owned the goddamned world, strutting around and poking his nose where it didn’t belong. He was asking to get taken out. Hell, Cho nearly did it a couple of times when he made trouble for us.”

  “But Bryant wasn’t involved with the smuggling operation?”

  “No, just convenient. Not that I was part of the hit,” Frank said hastily. “I just heard them talking about it. Cho figured the cops would decide he was killed because of the strike and him bringing in scabs across the picket lines. Then when the detectives kept asking questions down on the docks about the bum, I had to step things up.”

  Realization dawned on Ben. “That’s why you sent death threats to your brother.”

  “Those were just a distraction. Phil didn’t know anything about it. He was stupid to get paranoid,” Frank muttered with contempt. “What would knocking him off do? But everybody pays attention to someone like the mayor getting threats, and I had to make sure folks were talking about the books and the possibility that the murders might be copied from them. To keep things going, I tipped off the television station that Mrs. Lawson was really Griffin Bell.”

  McCord looked puzzled. “How did you know that? I was working on a subpoena to get that information from the publisher when it came out in the news.”

  “I used to go through the City Hall offices at night when I was police chief and found some mail in her drawer. I tucked the info away in case I needed it. You’d be surprised at what folks leave around—I got lots of good stuff.”

  Ben tapped the table. “Tell us about the next shipment.”

  “The boss keeps the details secret until the last minute, and doesn’t give anyone the whole plan. It’s worth millions, but I don’t understand why he got worked up about the homeless guy. Nobody knew he was FBI and he had nothing on us except those drawings.”

  Agent McCord kicked Frank’s chair around. “What about the drawings?”

  “Cho’s men found them in Simon’s belongings after they killed him. The boss got real nervous when he went through them—said we should make sure there weren’t any left. I knew Mrs. Lawson had a few because she used to show them around, but we’d gone to all that trouble to make everyone pay attention to Bryant’s murder and the novels. I thought if the drawings disappeared she’d start wondering what it meant, and then Santoni would start wondering. But when Phil said her and Santoni were getting suspicious about me, I had to do it anyway. I trashed the house figuring it would take her a while to notice they were gone. We just needed to buy a few days.”

  Ice crawled through Ben’s veins. Kelly had been in greater danger than he’d ever imagined. Even if Frank hadn’t committed the murders himself, he’d told Hong Cho about the novels, probably even suggesting their value as a diversion. “Does Cho know that Mrs. Lawson had the sketches?”

  “No,” Frank said hastily. “I took care of it myself. You won’t believe me, but I wouldn’t want them going after someone like her. Cho knows she wrote the books, but it was my job to watch her and keep the cops off our tails. And since you and she were shacking up, I figured you wouldn’t pay attention to anything else if she was missing.”

  He sounded sincere, almost pleading, and Ben supposed there could be a shred of decency left somewhere inside him. It was a strange kind of logic to plan an abduction and still think you were protecting the victim.

  “And you don’t know when the next shipment is due?” Agent McCord demanded.

  Frank shook his head. “Like I said, Cho only gives us part of the plan and only when we need to know it, but he must have thought the bum had it figured out. I just know it’s soon.”

  Ben motioned to Agent McCord and they walked well away from the table. “Mrs. Lawson still had two of Agent Pollard’s sketchbooks in her possession,” he said softly. “There’s a cargo ship pictured in over a third of the drawings—the Tiananmen. I checked with the Port Authority this morning. It has Chinese registry, and is scheduled to come in tomorrow. That has to be the one carrying the shipment.”

  “OKAY,” BEN SAID WHEN FRANK had been moved to a makeshift holding area. “Let’s put together a plan.”

  “No,” Agent McCord said. “We appreciate your assistance with the interrogation, but the FBI will take it from here.”

  Ben tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth from a can he’d found on the table. He grimaced. “These are stale. You’ve been in town long enough to have stale peanuts?”

  McCord frowned. “They aren’t stale and what does that have to do with it?”

  “There are protocols you’re supposed to follow. You didn’t notify the local authorities of your presence. I know—I’m the local authority you should have notified.”

  “Anonymity was necessary due to potential malfeasance in city government. Besides, you don’t have jurisdiction. It’s a federal case.”

  Ben scratched his chin. “
Actually, I’m pretty sure smuggled Chinese antiquities makes the case international, not domestic, but I don’t see any Interpol or Customs agents or representatives of the Chinese government. You want control of the investigation because Simon Pollard was your partner and you want to be the one to take his killer down. I want to take care of it because it’s my job. We both want to keep other agencies out of the action…so whether we like it or not, we’re in this together.”

  Agent McCord grinned wryly. “Your reputation is well deserved, Santoni.”

  “You checked up on me?”

  “Just doing my job. Captain Trujillo from your old precinct says you’re a pain in the ass—and that you can come back anytime as long as you remember, for once in your ‘frigging career,’ who is in charge.”

  “I’m sure your superiors would say the same—except the part about you coming back to work for them.”

  The FBI agent laughed. “Fine, you win.”

  KELLY PACED AROUND THE ROOM she’d been left in, too restless to sit or lie down. The agents had been solicitous, inquiring about her health and offering coffee, but they’d taken her cell phone and the only exit was back into the warehouse where they were questioning Frank Stone. They’d know if she tried to leave, so it was the same as being under arrest.

  “Mrs. Lawson?” said a voice behind her and she turned around. “I brought more ice for your hand.”

  The ice wasn’t needed, but she managed to smile. “Thank you. What is going on?”

  A polite mask covered the agent’s face. “I can’t discuss the particulars, ma’am. But rest assured, you are quite safe.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Kelly was terrified, but it wasn’t just for herself; it was for Ben. She didn’t need to be told that apprehending international smugglers was more dangerous than writing someone a traffic ticket…or that he would be involved.

  She’d already lost one man she loved; now she could lose another. And she did love Ben, she couldn’t deny it any longer.

  “Please, let me talk to Chief Santoni,” she said.

  “I’ll see if he’s available.”

  Kelly resumed her pacing and after a few minutes Ben walked in. “What is going on?” she demanded.

  He cupped the back of her head and gave her a long kiss. “Viv told me the mayor offered you time off because of the breakin, so I called and said you’d decided to accept and that I would escort you home.”

  “That isn’t an answer.”

  Ben sighed. “All I can tell you is we’re going to catch the smugglers, and that includes Simon’s killer.”

  “But why do you have to do it? It’s dangerous. Don’t try to tell me it isn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, but I can’t turn the case over to someone else. Sand Point is my town, and my responsibility.”

  Great, Kelly thought irritably. After disliking Sand Point for most of his life, he was suddenly its most devoted citizen.

  He walked her to the Jeep, but instead of going to her house, he drove to Henry and Gina’s.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “The security system has been installed at your place, but that’s where everybody expects you to be. So you’re staying here until it’s over. Think of it as protective custody. I’m not taking any chances and neither is the FBI.”

  “But—”

  “Forget it. I won’t tell you how to write a novel, you won’t tell me how to do my job and keep you safe. This isn’t me being a guy—this is me being a cop,” Ben insisted.

  “That isn’t what I was going to say,” she hissed in exasperation. “I’m worried about being close to Toby. Henry and Gina, as well. If I’m in danger, they’re in danger.”

  “I thought of that, too. But the threat is minimal away from your house, and there’s nobody I trust more than Uncle Henry to keep you all protected.” He got out and gestured to the two FBI agents who’d followed them.

  Gina greeted them while Toby jumped excitedly. “Henry will be home soon,” she explained as she gave Kelly a kiss. “They’re running final tests on the alarm system. He says it’s going to be safer than Fort Knox. Ben, Henry has asked Deke to stay and help.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Not so fast,” one of the FBI agents interjected. “Who is this ‘Deke’ character? I’ll have to speak with Agent McCord before we permit anyone else to be involved with the case.”

  “His name is Deke Northrup. I could tell you about him,” Ben said with a grim smile, “but then Deke would have to kill you. He runs a private security firm now. Before that he had…other interests. Don’t worry, he and my uncle go way back. His security clearance makes yours look like Mickey Mouse.”

  The agent scowled and took out his cell phone. A few minutes later he disconnected. “Uh, the guy is okay. He can stay.”

  “Big surprise.” Ben hugged Toby and then pulled Kelly into his arms. “Stay put. Do not even think about going anywhere.”

  Kelly gulped. She opened her mouth, but he kissed her before she could say anything. “I’ll be back,” he whispered. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m not letting you down ever again.”

  “We’ve already had this discussion. You can’t guarantee forever.”

  He looked into her eyes. “Okay, you’re right. There aren’t any guarantees. Life has a certain amount of danger no matter what you do. But I love you and think you love me. I want us to be together. You just have to decide if I’m worth the risk.”

  And as fast as that, he was gone.

  THE NEXT MORNING Gina stood calmly ironing Henry’s shirts while Kelly paced up and down the length of the duplex kitchen. She’d barely slept, thinking about Ben and the way he’d kissed her in front of Gina and Toby.

  And about what he’d said. You just have to decide if I’m worth the risk.

  The urgency in his eyes, the uncertainty…she couldn’t get it out of her mind. The cocky boy had grown into a self-contained man, yet he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable. She’d wanted to scream at him for being willing to throw away a future with her, but it wasn’t that simple.

  Ben needed to know she loved him, without reservations. How could she blame him? Didn’t she want to be loved that way, too?

  “Calm down,” Gina urged.

  “I can’t. Did you ever want Henry to quit law enforcement? There were times I wanted to beg Mitch to leave the fire department,” Kelly said. “But then I’d remember how important it was to him, and the lives he’d saved, and I’d feel selfish.”

  “Sometimes.” Gina smoothed her iron over one of Henry’s shirts. “It’s who they are. You have to accept the whole package, or nothing at all.”

  “I know. It’s the pits.”

  “It certainly is.” Gina laughed and arranged the freshly ironed shirt on a hanger.

  “So, how did you and Henry meet? You’ve never told me.”

  “I worked for The Company.”

  The Company… It took a moment before understanding clicked in Kelly’s brain. The CIA. “What did you do?”

  “Oh, I was an operative.”

  Kelly had started to sit down and nearly missed the chair. “You…were?”

  “A trainee. I took one look at Henry and fell madly in love. I knew I might never see him again, so I proposed on the spot. He nearly died of shock.”

  “I’ll bet. What did he say?”

  Gina laid another shirt on the ironing board. “He said yes. We were married the next day. Henry left an hour after the ceremony and was gone for six weeks. I was away on my first case when he came back. It lasted a month.”

  “Ohmigod—you didn’t see each other for two and half months? And you’d only known him for a day?”

  “That’s right. That time we were together for a whole twenty-seven hours before I had to leave for a special three-week training course.”

  Kelly began to laugh. “You aren’t serious.”

  “Completely serious. It kept up until I transferred to a desk job so I could see my husband.�
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  “But you made it. You’re still married and in love.”

  Gina set the iron on its end. “We made it, but couples aren’t in love every minute of every day. Sometimes you come to breakfast and you don’t even like the person sitting across the table.”

  “I remember you telling me that when I was in high school.”

  “Do you remember what else I told you?”

  Kelly nodded. “You said that if a man and woman were together for the right reasons, they’d fall back in love. I reminded myself of that whenever Mitch and I were going through a rough patch.”

  Unable to keep still, Kelly got up and went to the window.

  It was cold outside and a light rain was falling, but Henry and one of the FBI agents were under the carport, pretending to work on the engine of his Chevy Blazer. Deke Northrup and the second agent were watching the back of the house, and Toby was playing an educational game on the computer. They’d decided they would all feel better if he stayed home from school.

  Kelly rested her forehead on the cool glass. Ben might be facing ruthless killers that very moment. He could die. He could already be dead.

  And she couldn’t do a thing about it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON and Ben knew he should be exhausted—two hours on a cot in the FBI’s warehouse headquarters didn’t qualify as a solid night’s sleep—but he was filled with the exhilaration of a successful operation.

  “Nice work, Santoni,” said Agent McCord, sticking out his hand. A bullet had grazed his upper arm and he wore a bloodstained bandage; it was the only injury sustained by the emergency task force.

  The smugglers hadn’t been so fortunate.

  Frank had called his boss a dangerous son of a bitch; he’d also been a crazy son of a bitch. Cornered, facing a minimum of two murder charges, he’d taken himself out, along with his top lieutenants. Either that, or they’d committed suicide together.

  “You weren’t so bad, either,” Ben replied with a jubilant grin. “But make sure the Sand Point Police Department figures prominently in your report.” Several of his officers had been brought in at the last minute and they’d performed admirably. Now Ben’s mind was teeming with ideas of how he could drill the department to handle a variety of situations.