by DiAnn Mills
When the resident didn’t answer the doorbell, he knocked and identified his purpose. Nothing. He turned the knob. Locked.
“Open the door. This is Houston Police Department.”
No sound came from inside. He located the manager’s office, but it was empty. Didn’t give him much choice.
Daniel returned to the woman’s apartment. When she didn’t respond to another knock, he mule-kicked the door. Gun drawn, he peered inside. A darkened room meant someone had something to hide.
Silence greeted him. Spiced apples met his nostrils.
He peered into dark corners, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light. On the left he cleared a kitchen and dining room. Dark spots on the floor indicated more blood. To the right an open living area. From the looks of the furnishings, an older woman lived here. Down the hall he pushed in a bathroom door. Why did the woman live in a cave?
A gun jammed into his back.
“Drop it now,” a woman said. “Or I’ll blow a hole through you.”
“Ma’am, I—”
“Who are you?” She pressed the gun deeper. “And why are you breaking into my home?”
“I’m a police officer.”
“Right. And I’m Sherlock Holmes.”
Great. This wacko lady planned to shoot him for breaking and entering. “If you’d turn on a light, you’d see my uniform, badge, and ID.”
“Testy, aren’t you? I have a mind to search you.”
A wacko and a pervert.
“Don’t turn around.”
Furious best described him. “Look, lady, I’m responding to a call that a woman was in distress, a possible home invasion. When you didn’t answer the door, I assumed you needed help.”
She flipped on the bathroom light and groaned. “I know who called you—my overprotective neighbor. Turn around, Officer. I owe you an apology.”
She gasped.
Special Agent Laurel Evertson held him at gunpoint.
CHAPTER 24
11:55 A.M. FRIDAY
Laurel had nearly put a bullet into Daniel, thinking he worked for whoever had shot her. Didn’t help at all that she stood there in flannel Mickey Mouse pajamas.
“I’m so sorry.” She stepped back. “The lady who lives downstairs is the motherly type, and I’m her special project. I imagine she panicked when I didn’t answer the door.” She ran her fingers through tousled hair. “I took a few pain meds before I went to bed last night.”
A hint of amusement sparkled in his brown eyes. “It’s all right, really. Glad you’re not hurt.” He radioed in the all clear.
He looked good in his uniform, while she resembled a castoff from a Disney cartoon.
She moved from the bathroom door down the hall to the living area. When she pulled back the drapes, golden sunshine illuminated the room. Normally it thrilled her, filling her with peace. Now it highlighted the warmth rising from her cheeks.
She groped for words. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I have a Keurig.”
“Sure. How’s the shoulder?”
“It’ll be fine.” Actually it throbbed, but she wouldn’t admit it. Walking into the kitchen, she snapped on a light. At least she’d cleaned this week, as if it mattered. Great. Dried blood spotted the floor. She wet a paper towel and bent to clean the stain.
“I can handle that,” he said.
Dizziness hit her hard, and she wobbled like a drunk. Strong hands steadied her, his touch increasing her discomfort. Taking in a long breath, she regained her balance. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.” She forced a smile.
Blood spots dripped all the way to the doorway. She moaned. “Can’t believe I missed this before I went to bed.”
“My guess is you were exhausted. There’s more telltale signs outside your door.”
She swung toward him. “No wonder my neighbor thought a crime had been committed.”
“I thought the worst too.” Daniel ripped a paper towel, dampened it, and proceeded to clean her bloody trail.
“Odd you were the officer to respond.” Perhaps it was better he responded than an officer she didn’t recognize. Yet her reasoning seemed muddled.
“This is my beat. No coincidence.”
When he opened the door, she peered over his shoulder at the blood. “Really, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be doing this.” What was she thinking? Her neighbors might see her standing in her pajamas talking to a police officer.
He grinned and headed back to the kitchen. “Won’t take a second. I’ll clean right outside your door and no one will ever suspect you prompted a 911 call.” He tore off more paper towels.
“Thanks.” His eyes were like a love potion, milk-chocolate pools. Must be a side effect of the pain meds. She kept the door open so they could talk. “I’ll fix your coffee. What kind do you like?”
“Breakfast blend, if you have it. And a spoonful of sugar.”
“I’m on it. How are your grandparents?”
“The same. Gran’s feisty, and Gramps is stubborn.” He scrubbed the spots on the floor.
She smiled. “I like them. Where do your parents live?”
“They’re both out of the picture.”
She startled. Her first impression of the handsome officer was a product of total function. “I’m sorry.”
“About my parents or how you almost shot me?” He grinned.
“Both, I guess.”
“You’ve said ‘sorry’ three times, and there’s no reason.” He stepped inside with the red-tinted paper towels in his hand. “Don’t look so shocked. I figured you’d already run a background on me.”
“I hadn’t thought of it.” She opened the cabinet beneath the sink and pointed to the trash can. They had at least one thing in common, but she wouldn’t vocalize it. “Then your grandparents raised you?”
“Yep. They took over when I was two.”
“From what I’ve seen, they did a good job.”
He leaned against the refrigerator, inches away. “I’ll pass that on.”
“You were telling me about them.”
“They’re doing fine with round-the-clock bodyguards and nurses. Both grumble, but it’s working.”
“They were comfortable at the facility. Feeling accepted and loved often overrides other challenges.”
“Gramps would agree, and Alzheimer’s patients need lots of understanding. I don’t like his claim to have purchased a life insurance policy for him and Gran. Whoever sold it now has both Social Security numbers along with financials.” He shook his head. “More money’s missing from one of their accounts.”
“I’m sure law enforcement are on it.” She wished she could tell him more. “Guess that sounds lame.”
“The elephant in the room is the likelihood of the scammers collecting big-time in the event he has an accident. As in the note Gran received with the funeral flowers.”
“Wish I could help.” Lying to a friend, who’d just cleaned up a bloody mess, made her feel disgusting.
“But you’re working undercover.”
She scrunched her forehead. “I was fired.”
“Your Glock and badge are behind the toaster.”
Her gaze flew to where she’d left her tools of the trade. She hadn’t expected visitors, least of all Daniel.
“Laurel, what is going on?”
Could she trust him? “Sit down, Daniel.” She reached for a mug beside the single-cup dispenser and pressed the On button. “I promised you coffee.” She avoided his stare, still feeling uncomfortable about her pajamas and, worse yet, his discovery about her work.
“I’ll be patient,” he said. “Good-looking apartment. I like your collection of antiques, especially the library table. Works great with the ladder-back chairs.”
“Thanks.” He made number four who’d been inside her private domain.
He pointed to the framed photos of Miss Kathryn. “A grandmother?”
“No, but a dear lady. Are you an antique collector?”
He shook his head. “My little house is a mix of whatever was on sale when I needed it. My grandparents have a houseful of antiques blended with contemporary. Reminds them of the past and present. They reminisce about the old days, when life was simpler. Not easier, but when they were in better health.”
“Do you live far from them?” She handed him the coffee.
“Twelve minutes, give or take. They live inside the beltway in Bunker Hill, and I’m outside. It’s just a few minutes’ drive to Silver Hospitality.”
“Your grandmother looks frail.”
He nodded. “Degenerative heart disease.” He took a gulp of coffee. “This tastes wonderful. Thanks. I’m rattling on like an old man. I need to spend more time with those my own age.” He glanced up. “I’m ready for the truth.”
“Not quite yet. Thanks for cleaning up my messes.”
“And thank you for not blowing a hole through me.” He laughed and she joined him.
Change the subject, Laurel, before he thinks you’re attracted to him. “Hey, do you like Snickers?”
“Now you’re talking like Gramps,” he said. “Can’t keep him away from them. And don’t get me started on his diabetes.”
She opened the freezer and handed him one. “Dip it in your coffee. It’s heavenly.”
He tore off the wrapper and tried her suggestion. “Pretty good.”
“My dad got me hooked on eating them like this when I was six. Back then, it was hot chocolate. He’d give me math problems to solve, and when I mastered them, we celebrated.”
“Sounds like a great dad.” He glanced at his watch. “I have fifteen minutes left.”
She couldn’t think of a lie to explain why she had her badge and Glock. She liked Daniel, and her judgment of character had always been solid. “I need your word you will keep this to yourself.”
“You got it. So you’re relieved from the FBI, and the next day Wilmington is released from prison. I don’t buy the love affair that went beyond your undercover work or the media’s take on your heading to the dark side.”
“Let’s hope a few people do.”
“So I’m right. My guess is Wilmington has made a deal to give the FBI information about the elderly fraud case in exchange for his freedom.”
She scooted into a chair across from him. “Pretty close.”
“Meaning . . . ?”
“Nothing else. Do you see how innocent people can get killed if this leaks out? The scammer will go dark until he comes up with another scheme.”
“I do see. My grandparents are directly in their path.” He peered into her eyes, and her stomach knotted. “I need to get back to work. Thanks for the coffee, Snickers, conversation, and a good scare.”
“Anytime.”
“Don’t forget to call your neighbor and tell her you’re okay.”
“Will do, right now.”
He left and she leaned back against the door. How did a girl like her find a decent guy? Impossible. She’d have to lie or settle for a loser. Like herself. At least then she stood in familiar territory.
All the lights were flashing, telling her not to fall for Officer Daniel Hilton, but the warnings didn’t stop her heart. Her phone alerted her to a call. She grabbed it: Wilmington.
“Officer Hilton stayed there quite a while,” he said coldly.
She trembled just knowing he had someone watching her every move. “One of my neighbors saw blood on the steps and . . .” Easing onto the sofa, she anticipated his response. He’d once broken a bodyguard’s nose for looking at her.
“We already know my friend has eyes on you.”
“I learned a few other details about Mr. Cayden that you could have already shared.”
“Good for you. Want to fill me in?” His dry tone unnerved her.
“He works for Almet Pharmaceuticals in Miami, a company that manufactures drugs for those suffering from dementia. No priors. Outstanding work record. Stay-at-home wife and young daughter. Recently he took a medical leave of absence and is here in Houston being treated at the VA hospital. Staying at an extended-stay property. We confirmed the doctor’s diagnosis of a heart problem related to stress.”
“He covers his tracks, one step ahead of you all the way. I’ve already told Preston—don’t tail him or haul him in for questioning. He’ll bolt.”
“What about Josie Fields? She’s wanted for numerous crimes.”
“Same thing. I really don’t think these two are the masterminds behind this scam. Josie is a maniac, and she has disappearing down to an art.”
“Yes, sir.” She gritted her teeth.
“Hey, you need me to pull this off and don’t forget it.”
“I’m sure you won’t let me.”
“You’d better hope his people saw the blood and discounted your relationship with Hilton, since he was in uniform. I’m meeting with Geoff tonight, see what I can learn.”
“Call me. I don’t care what time.”
“Okay. You and I are having dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up.”
Her head and shoulder ached. “I suppose.”
“Listen, Laurel, I saw the way you looked at Hilton last night, and if I detected it, then others will too. Keep him safe. Cool off until this is over. Neither of us wants anyone else hurt.”
Were his words a threat or a warning?
CHAPTER 25
1:15 P.M. FRIDAY
Daniel drove through a green light and past Willowbrook Mall. He couldn’t keep Laurel out of his mind. Even tumbling out of bed in Mickey Mouse pajamas and carrying a weapon, she looked pretty good—golden hair and nut-brown eyes filled with mystery. If he were looking for a woman, she’d be a candidate.
What was he thinking? She was FBI. Used to giving orders. Independent. They’d kill each other. He’d tasted the stormy side of her and didn’t enjoy a moment of it. Then the trust factor rolled in about women. The only thing he and Laurel had in common were their weapons, a series of crimes involving the elderly, and frozen Snickers dipped in hot coffee.
Nope. Bad idea. Give it a rest, Officer Hilton.
Before he committed himself to any relationship, he needed to settle things with his mother. Should have seen her a long time ago. Sometimes he thought his grandparents’ urging was what kept him from driving to the prison.
He activated his hands-free on his iPhone and requested Siri to “note” what had happened since he realized his grandparents had been victims of an elderly fraud.
Gramps supposedly bought life insurance policies for him and Gran from a man who went by the name of Russell Jergon. The salesman obtained enough information to get into an account.
Tom Hanson died of a heart attack, but Gramps claimed he’d purchased a life insurance policy from Jergon too. Tom’s daughter had been unavailable to question regarding her father’s financials. Daniel added a reminder to later phone the woman.
While driving Gran and Gramps home from the facility, someone shot at them. No lead there, just a green Dodge pickup. Then Gran’s threatening note. They were under the care of trained professionals, but it didn’t stop his queasiness.
Emma Dockson passed while in the hospital. Another victim of the phony salesman. Her nephew refused an autopsy, stating he had no reason to suspect foul play. However several thousand dollars mysteriously disappeared from Emma’s account before and after her death. Daniel heard the nephew had filed a case with the FBI.
Laurel is dismissed from the FBI, and the next day Wilmington walks the street. She warns Daniel to stay away from her.
Laurel’s shot, and when Daniel follows up on a 911 call, he sees her badge and weapon on the kitchen counter. She and Wilmington are working undercover. Strange alliance.
What’s next?
Wish Laurel would confide in me. . . . If Daniel faced the truth, he’d admit her spending time with Morton Wilmington made him a bit jealous. Ridiculous.
He told Siri good-bye and listened to the familiar voice respond with “It’s been a pleasure.”
If only others could be as courteous.
He finished his shift and drove to his grandparents’. Every day the same routine. Every day he looked for signs of someone watching their home. Every day he wondered what would be left of his life without them, despite all he was doing to protect them. What if he failed?
His iPhone alerted him to a call, a number he didn’t recognize.
“This is Officer Hilton.”
“Morton Wilmington. Did you file a report with HPD regarding the 911 call to Laurel’s apartment?”
What was this about? “Excuse me?”
“Look, I’m trying to keep both of you alive. She’s being watched, and I’m gambling on the bad guy not recognizing you from the stables.”
Daniel understood that undercover work meant taking precautions, and Laurel winding up dead looked dismal for a man seeking parole. “I did my job.”
“Good. Thanks. I’ll be talking to you.” Wilmington ended the call before Daniel could ask more questions.
No way would he sit back and do nothing while people he cared about were in danger. He might not have the latest technology, but he’d learned a few things as a cop.
11:40 P.M. FRIDAY
Daniel continued his nighttime online search for those preying on the elderly and for bogus websites. He understood why people responded to fraud and scams. He received e-mails constantly, worded to tug at the heartstrings or some get-rich scheme shot with the arrow of greed.
Tonight he looked at the realm of fake websites. They were illegal, but it didn’t stop the developers who wanted to make money on goods that didn’t exist—wheelchairs, insurance policies, services never rendered . . . the list continued. One site targeting the elderly claimed to represent the Red Cross, eager to take contributions for the latest disaster relief. The FBI warned and prosecuted, but the owners of the sites just looked for better ways to hide their activities.
Daniel massaged tense neck muscles. He was a police officer who worked a job that satisfied his deep-seated hunger to keep people safe. This case stretched him beyond his comfort zone.