“Mrs. Hamilton, it’s Tony Ceola. Call me, please, at . . .”
“It’s Tony again. I’d like to talk to you when you get the chance. My number . . .”
“Kathryn, it’s Grant. Where are you? Call me immediately.”
Her fingers tightened around the phone as she squeezed her eyes shut. Grant never called when she was traveling. He hardly even noticed she was gone. Dear God, what had happened? Had Tony called him? Had Jefferson?
“Kathryn, what the hell’s going on? The police are looking for you! Are you in trouble? Call me, please.”
Then the final message: “I’m on my way to Tulsa, Kathryn. Call my cell phone, call Jefferson, or call the police, please. I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it cleared up in no time. Barring any delays, I’ll be there around eight. We’ll take care of it.”
The phone slipped from her hand as she bowed her head. The private investigator had gone to the police. The authorities were looking for her. They would arrest her, take her to trial, and give her a probationary sentence of some sort. After all, she was Kathryn Daniels Hamilton.
But that was the least of her problems. Grant would be in Tulsa in little more than an hour, and her entire world would fall apart.
Unless she took action to stop it.
Tony was polishing off a helping of his mother’s lasagna on Friday evening when the phone rang. Caller ID came back to a local hotel.
After his “hello,” there was a moment’s silence, then a sudden rush of air. “Tony? It—it’s Kathryn Hamilton. I—I’ve done a terribly foolish thing. I didn’t know who to turn to, but then I thought of you. I—I know I have no right to ask this of you, not after what I almost did, but . . . can we talk? Please? Just you and me?”
She sounded weary and frightened, not at all the way Henry’s sister should sound. “Sure, we can.” They would talk, and then he would haul her off to jail, where she belonged. “Where are you?”
“The Renaissance. It’s off Seventy-first—”
“I know where it is.”
“Of course you do.” She sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry. I’m just not thinking clearly. I’ll be waiting in the lobby. You’ll come now?”
“As soon as I hang up.”
“Thank you so much, Tony.”
He hung up, then dialed Darnell Garry’s cell phone. Not only was he handling the case, but he was on call that night, as well. “Hey, Garry, it’s Chee. You busy?”
“Yeah. I caught a drive-by in east Tulsa. Two dead, one on his way to the hospital, and a half dozen conflicting statements. What’s up?”
“Kathryn Hamilton just called. She wants me to meet her at the Renaissance so we can talk. I’ll take her into custody and deliver her downtown. You want me to give you a call when we get there?”
“Yeah, sure. Oh, damn, I was supposed to pick up her old man at the airport. I would’ve asked you to do it, but, hell, I’ll call Simmons instead and listen to him whine. Then I’ll head downtown when we finish up here.”
“See you there.” Tony hung up, then went upstairs to retrieve his handcuffs and pistol.
Traffic was light on the Broken Arrow Expressway and Highway 169. He made it to the hotel in good time, pulled up to the front entrance, and was about to shut off the engine when Kathryn came out the door. Looking around warily, she darted to the car, her movements uncoordinated, and slid into the passenger seat.
“Thank you for coming,” she said in a rush. She was pale, and her hands trembled as she fastened the seat belt. “I appreciate being able to talk in private.”
They would have a private interview room at the police station, he thought as he shifted into gear and drove away. “Okay. But first let me tell you . . . this can’t be off the record. I’m a cop. If you’ve done something illegal, I’ll have to report it. I’ll help you if I can, but I can’t keep it to myself. Do you understand?”
She nodded fearfully.
“I also need to advise you of your rights and make sure you understand that anything you tell me can be used against you. Otherwise, I can’t talk to you. Okay?”
“Oh, dear God,” she murmured, but after a moment she nodded.
He ran through the Miranda warning by rote, wondering in some part of his mind whether he or Kathryn had ever thought they’d be in this situation. Mirandizing Henry Daniels’s ultrarespectable younger sister ranked right up there with shooting Henry. Unbelievable.
She stared out the side window, her face turned away from him, as her fingers knotted and unknotted in her lap. They were back on Seventy-first and sitting at a stoplight when she finally spoke. “Do you know what I—I did?”
He shook his head.
“I—I contacted a private investigator about Selena McCaffrey. About t-taking her out. Putting a—a hit on her. G-getting rid of—of her.” She said the words stiffly, as if they were foreign to her. In that context, clearly they were.
She waited for a response from him, but he remained silent. He’d learned early on that silence unnerved most people so they talked to fill it. The more talking they did, the more he learned.
“I—I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t even know that I was thinking. It’s just all been so stressful—the shocks about Henry. All my life he’s been the best brother a woman could ask for, and then I find out it’s all been lies, that his life is filled with ugly secrets—the drugs, the murders, the girl.”
Tony’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel as the light finally turned green. Selena might have been a secret, but at its heart, there was nothing ugly about it. Henry had helped someone who’d desperately needed it. His motives had been less than pure, but the generosity remained.
“I just . . . I guess I just snapped. I go to that hospital every day and I stay there for hours, just watching him, hoping he’ll surprise all the doctors and make a miraculous recovery, or wishing that he—that he would just go ahead and die. I talk to him about all the things we used to do when we were young, all the good times we had, and the whole time I’m thinking that I don’t even know him. My big brother, who looked out for me, who teased and protected me and was always there for me, is a stranger, and it just...” She raised both hands to cover her face as her shoulders shook and a sob escaped her.
Tony stayed quiet, untouched by her emotional display.
After a few more shakes and sobs, she dug a tissue out of her purse, dabbed at her eyes, then straightened her shoulders. “I’m sorry. It—it’s just been harder than I realized. I—I was angry. I wanted to blame somebody, to strike out at somebody, and it seemed so unfair to blame Henry when he’s lying there half-dead, so—so helpless and pathetic. That left the girl.” Her voice dropped to a whisper on the last words.
“It—it was a moment of insanity, I suppose. I thought . . . it was all her fault, so if she was—was gone, then everything would be all right again—Henry, our family. I just wanted to—to punish her. To remove her from his life. To get him away from her influence. So I called that man and asked him to—to find someone who would . . . take care of her.”
At last Tony spoke. “You mean, kill her.”
Shudders rocketed through her again. When they eased, she nodded numbly. “I never intended to go through with it. When I got off the phone and realized what I’d done, I was horrified. I didn’t call him back, I didn’t meet with him, I didn’t pay him any money. I was so ashamed, so mortified, and I—I panicked. I drove aimlessly for hours, until I was exhausted, and then I checked into the hotel. I didn’t know what to do, who to tell, how to make sure that no harm comes to that girl because of me. Then I thought of you— Henry’s godson. I knew you could help.”
Had she really become frightened after the call to Stark? Was that why she was confiding in Tony and laying the groundwork for some kind of traumatic-stress defense? Or was she telling the truth?
The job had made Tony cynical. One of the first lessons he’d learned was that people lied. Everyone lied some of the time and
some people lied all the time. Some people had good reasons for their lies, but most just wanted to avoid the consequences of their actions.
And sometimes people told the truth. At least part of what Kathryn said was true. She had received a lot of big shocks lately, she hadn’t gone any further with the murder-for-hire, and she had obviously been under a lot of strain. Maybe it was all true. Maybe it had been nothing more than a moment of insanity.
Stopping at another red light, Tony glanced her way. “How exactly do you think I can help?”
She looked surprised by the question. Was she so accustomed to others doing her bidding without question? Did she think he would vouch for her, call off the investigation, and let her go about her life as usual? If so, it just proved how little she knew about him.
“Why . . .” She blinked rapidly. Searching for the right answer? “Of course, I want you to make sure nothing happens to that girl.”
“You said you hadn’t paid any money. No one’s going to carry out a hit without at least part of the money up front. Besides, she’s well-protected.”
“Good.” She said it with an unsteady smile and relief in her voice. “I just couldn’t live with myself if I knew I had caused harm to another person. I’d be no better than Henry.” She twisted the oversized diamond on her left ring finger before saying, “I also want to—to make amends. If I could see her . . .”
“No,” Tony said flatly. “That’s not possible.”
“But it would mean so much to me! I won’t be able to rest until I see for myself that she’s all right.”
“Mrs. Hamilton, you tried to hire someone to kill her. No, you can’t see her.”
“Not even . . .” Her gaze cast down, she glanced his way in a gesture that was purely manipulative. “Not even if I tell you what I know about Henry’s business in exchange?”
Tony turned into the next parking lot, shifted into PARK, then faced her. He needed to see her face, her eyes. “I thought you didn’t know anything about Henry’s sideline.”
The nervous twisting of the ring started again. “I—I didn’t want to know anything. It was so shameful that I pretended it didn’t exist.”
“So what do you know?”
She raised her gaze to him. “Some time ago, Henry sent me a package for safekeeping, in case anything happened to him. I was curious, so I opened it. It was records—people’s names, dates, incidents, finances. I told you, my brother always loved to write everything down. When I realized that it had to do with drugs and murder, I was horrified. I put it away and put it out of my mind. But I would happily give it to you if you would just let me see Selena tonight and tell her how terribly sorry I am for what I did.”
Tony studied her a long time. She looked sincere, but there was a hint of something in her eyes. That innate Davis smugness? Or something more calculating?
Finally, he shut off the engine, took the keys, and got out of the car. At the rear, he leaned against the trunk and called Robinette. The man answered with all the warmth of an ice cube.
“This is Ceola. I picked up Kathryn Hamilton, and I’m taking her downtown. But she’s already trying to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
He repeated the trade Kathryn had suggested.
“Do you believe she has anything?”
With his free hand, Tony rubbed the ache gathering between his eyes. “Damned if I know.” The longer he did this job, the harder it was to tell. And the truth was, he didn’t care—didn’t care whether the information existed, whether it brought down more of Henry’s associates or added weight to the case against Henry himself. They couldn’t make him pay for his crimes, so what did it matter?
“Why don’t you bring her over?”
“Uh, no. She tried to hire someone to kill Selena, remember?”
“And she claims to have information that might help our case and get Selena back home sooner rather than later. Come on, Ceola. The place is secure. Selena’s already met people here who went way beyond trying to kill someone, and she’s been safe. Bring Mrs. Hamilton here.”
“All right,” Tony agreed grudgingly. “We’ll be there soon.”
Friday night in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He might as well be nowhere at all.
Sonny was restless, tired of the hassle, tired of traveling, just plain tired. He and Charlize had flown back to Savannah on schedule Tuesday night, accompanied to the airport by two of Selena’s thugs in a red sedan that stayed two cars behind them. Once inside the terminal, the men had tried to blend in with the other travelers, but Sonny was too experienced at picking out surveillance. He’d known they were there to make sure he and Charlize got on the plane like they were supposed to. Since that had been his plan anyway, he’d done it.
They’d made a point of being visible around town on Wednesday, then had driven to Augusta, this time without any snoops on their tail, and flown back to Tulsa. Instead of the first-class hotels he preferred, they were staying in a dump right off the interstate, where cars whizzed past all night long, where thin walls let in far too much sound from the rooms on either side.
Where Selena would never think to look for him.
If she thought to look for him at all.
Given a choice, he would have left Charlize at home this time, but she’d asked to come with him. They were a team, she’d said. Partners. He’d been so surprised by the sentiment, he’d let her tag along.
Even though he’d come to tender his resignation in the most permanent of ways.
A hazy image of Charlize appeared in the window where he stood as she stopped behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. Her fingers dug hard into his shoulders, kneading the muscles knotted deep there, and he winced and pulled away. She moved with him, though, making him grunt with each sharp quiver of pain even as the tautness began to ease.
“You’ve decided to go into business for yourself, haven’t you?”
He listened for approval or disapproval, for sign of anything beyond simple curiosity and the unwavering loyalty she’d always shown him, but he heard nothing. “Yeah. I don’t see that I have much choice.”
“She won’t let go easily.”
“No.”
“She’ll send Damon after you.”
He grinned. “She has Damon. I have you. I’d put my money on you every time.”
When Charlize remained silent, he twisted his head to look at her. “I do have you, don’t I?”
She gave him a cool, breath-stealing smile. “Of course you do. I’ve always been on your side.”
Always. That was all he’d ever wanted from her.
“When are you going to tell her?”
He let his eyes droop shut as her fingers continued to work miracles across his shoulders and down his spine. There would be no telling. This wasn’t a job where you could just walk away, especially when you intended to take the business with you. No, the only option was to remove Selena from the picture. Long might come after him, or, being a reasonable businessman, he might consider losing the Southern region a fair price to pay for gaining total control of the rest of the empire.
“You’re planning to kill her, aren’t you?” Charlize asked. There was no shock or dread in her voice. She understood what went into running a business such as this. Even people you liked could create problems that only death could resolve.
“I don’t actually have a plan at the moment,” he said, and she laughed.
“You don’t get out of bed in the morning without a plan.”
He acknowledged that with a grunt.
“You want to share it?” Charlize asked.
He caught hold of her hand and pulled her around in front of him. “Some things you’re better off not knowing. It protects you as well as me.”
Her expression turned distant, hurt. “There’s a lot about you I don’t know. Just how much protection from me do you think you need?”
“None from you, darlin’. Just the rest of the world.” Raising one hand, he gently stroked her face. �
��One of these days, soon as this is all settled, I’ll tell you everything. All the secrets.”
And he prayed to God that he wouldn’t have to kill her for it.
Damon sat at the table in the mansion’s kitchen, absently staring out the window as he munched on a piece of pizza. Dinners weren’t exactly sociable affairs in the house, and that night’s was less so than normal. Selena and Robinette had both taken plates of food elsewhere to eat. Jamieson was looking so goddamn morose and guilty that it was just a matter of time before he told someone what he’d done, and Gentry was about as friendly as an ill-tempered snake.
Such fucking fun.
Robinette came into the kitchen, cell phone in one hand, an empty plate in the other. “Get one of the guards to take him to the guesthouse, then meet me in the foyer,” he said. After laying the plate in the sink, he returned the way he’d come.
When Jamieson didn’t respond, Gentry went to the intercom near the door. “We need a babysitter for Long,” she said.
He flipped her off, and with a sardonic smile, she returned the gesture. “Watch him,” she said to Jamieson. “I’m going to go wash up.”
Jamieson didn’t seem to notice her leaving. He just sat there, toying with the uneaten pizza on his plate. Damon watched him a moment, then stood and smacked both hands on the table hard enough to rattle the dishes. Jamieson started, then lifted his gaze.
“Knock this shit off, asshole. Even a blind man can see there’s something wrong. You keep moping around here, and you’re gonna get us both killed.”
Jamieson opened his mouth, but the opening of the back door stopped him. The guard came in, looking disgruntled. “Want me to take him to the guesthouse?”
Jamieson nodded blankly.
“Come on, Long.”
Damon stared hard at Jamieson until the man finally looked at him, then he grinned and winked before strolling out the door ahead of the guard. Once inside the guesthouse, he motioned down the hall. “I’m going to the john.”
The guard made a bored gesture, then went to sit on the sofa.
Deep Cover Page 30