Double Cross

by DiAnn Mills

  “The FBI sprang me to help end the elderly scam. I know the person in charge from a long time ago. I needed an agent to work with me, and we worked out Laurel’s dismissal from the FBI.”

  “Why would anyone swallow that, considering your past with Laurel?”

  “This man saved my life. I owe him.”

  “He’d never think you’d betray him?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You’re trading an old friend for life outside prison.”

  “Not exactly. He’s breaking the law and killing people. My faith doesn’t support that.”

  “Does he have a record?”

  “No. Nothing to even bring him in for questioning.”

  “Where does that put me?”

  “I’d like to hire you as a bodyguard.”

  Daniel shook his head. “They’d recognize me.”

  “Not if you wore a disguise.”

  He’d gone undercover a few times. Knew how it was done. “I’d need the FBI’s approval. And Laurel’s.”

  Wilmington leaned forward. “Despite what you think, I’m a changed man. I’ll cooperate with any law enforcement. I want the days ahead of me to speak more than the ones I left in prison.”

  “Tell me why you’re really here.”

  Wilmington stared at the street and waved at the officer, who was observing from a distance. “The best thing I can do to prove my case is help the FBI.”

  “Did your crusade begin at your release?”

  “Not exactly. Geoff Cayden visited me in prison. Wanted to go into business together.”

  Pieces were beginning to fit with what he’d gathered from Laurel. “So you know how the scam works?”

  “Cayden may look at me as his old Army bud, but he’s not about to reveal the whole operation.”

  Daniel couldn’t argue with that. “If this new position is agreeable with the FBI, when would I start?”

  “Early next week.” Wilmington stopped rocking and studied him. “I know your trust isn’t there. Can’t blame you. When you realize the life forward means more to God than the past, then what you do doesn’t have to make sense.”

  Daniel heard the sincerity, but those skills could be learned. He wouldn’t be anyone’s marionette. He’d seen too much of that in his line of work. “Show me your faith.”

  “I will.”

  “Where are your bodyguards?”

  He gestured into the darkness. “They’re here.”

  “Do you trust all of them?”

  “Depends on the day. Are you reliable, Daniel?”

  “My grandmother told me something when I complained about her driving. She said, ‘If you can’t trust me, trust God.’”

  “Fair enough.” Wilmington stood and stuck out his hand. “I’ll have someone from the FBI contact you.”

  CHAPTER 29

  9:30 A.M. SUNDAY

  Daniel had a crucial task, and the nearly three-hour drive to a prison in Gatesville gave him miles to think. The urgency to see the woman who’d given birth to him and get out what he needed to say pounded against his brain. He’d put off the task for too many years, a mission of sorts to clear his mind and heart. Months ago, without telling anyone, he requested his name be added to her visitors’ list. Even when the permission was approved, he failed to follow through. Didn’t have the guts to see her until now. How many times had he judged others for not facing what they feared most?

  Strange how protecting his grandparents and potentially working with Laurel and Wilmington pushed him to see his mother. In many ways, the urgency made little sense. Yet he felt God telling him to make the journey. In another hour he’d be at Gatesville. He’d rather face the scammers without a weapon.

  After his mother’s many years of street living and a meth addiction, Daniel wasn’t sure he’d recognize her. Amazing he hadn’t been born with a weakness for alcohol or drugs. He stayed away from both just in case.

  The only photo of the two of them was taken on his first birthday. Back then she’d had huge brown eyes and long dark-brown hair. A beauty, as Gramps had said, with a smile that melted ice. Daniel had been told he looked like her.

  How many times had he given the speech about choices, thinking of all the wrong ones his parents had made? He used to teach Sunday school for eighth grade boys when Gran and Gramps were in better health, and he played the good role model to the hilt. What a self-righteous hypocrite. He couldn’t forgive his own mother.

  How often had Gramps said that if Daniel couldn’t forgive her, the hatred would eventually consume him? His inability to trust a woman stemmed from those emotions. What kind of woman chose meth over her husband and child? Daniel’s attitude toward her was not one of honor or respect. Laurel’s face appeared in his mind. She’d waltzed into his life, stirring a longing that scared him, but without a cleansing of his charcoal heart, he’d soon push her away. And botch up the proposed undercover work.

  In a way, he hoped his mother refused to see him. Sure would make the day easier to manage. He could shake his head and claim he tried reconciliation.

  Once at the prison and out of his truck, he studied the surroundings: cold and lonely. He grasped the door handle of the women’s prison unit and hesitated. Gramps called indecision a wrestling of the spirit. Daniel swallowed what he termed the “little-boy fear of rejection” and waited his turn at the counter. He completed the visitor form and prayed for guts. The conversation he’d rehearsed earlier seemed sorry. Canned.

  Female inmates filed into the visitation area, looking as hard as the concrete walls. No matter their age, many had eyes that told the harsh story of mistakes, and the only regrets were those of being caught. One woman scanned the room while the others took seats in chairs at white painted picnic-style tables across from friends or relatives. Daniel caught her eye, and she stepped forward with a slight limp, an injury resulting from trying to outrun a police officer. How ironic.

  His heart dropped to his toes. Brittle gray hair. Dull eyes. No teeth, a product of meth addiction. Sad. A waste of a life.

  “Mom?” He moved closer, willing his feet to begin the communication.

  She inhaled sharply. “Daniel,” she whispered. “You’re so grown-up, handsome. Married? Any children?”

  “Not yet. Haven’t found a woman to put up with me yet.”

  “Be picky.”

  “Sit down so we can talk.” He surprised himself with kindness. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “I’m shocked you’d want to come.” She folded thin hands on the table. Veins pushed up through transparent skin like blue limbs from a withered tree. Not much older than fifty-five, yet one would guess a decade or more older.

  “Should have done this a long time ago. I’m sorry I took so long.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “To gloat?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Cop has meth mama doing time for murder.”

  Her change in attitude didn’t surprise him. “No, to check on you.”

  “I don’t need you. Never did. That’s why I dumped your sorry—”

  Daniel waved his hand in front of her face. So much he could say about her behavior. But lowering his standards to look like he had all the answers didn’t solve a thing. Respect was something she never saw, and he could offer it. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to walk away. “I’m not here to argue.”

  “Then why?”

  She jutted her jaw, a stubborn response he’d seen many times from the women he arrested. All scared little girls covering up their insecurities, and this was his mother. She’d toss his compassion back with words meant to slice him raw.

  “I came to say I forgive you.”

  For a moment, her eyes softened. Then the look threw fiery daggers. “Your grandparents put you up to this. Pious freaks. Always turned their noses up at me and Jimmy. You’re a Bible-thumper too, aren’t you? Get out of here, you no-good—”

  Daniel tensed as the curses flew from her mouth. Old issues surfaced. Hurting. Slamming into
his heart with torment. The years he questioned why. Not anymore. “They have no idea I’m here or applied for visitation. No one sent me. I’m a grown man.”

  A guard approached them. “Keep your voice down, or you’ll be escorted back to your cell.”

  She smirked and sat back in the plastic chair. “Those tougher than you have tried to convert me, Danny boy. Never worked. The only thing I ever needed to lean on is the next high. If you can’t bring me something to help me forget the hand I’ve been dealt, I don’t need you.”

  All these years Daniel had harbored guilt for not being good enough. But now the truth calmed him. He pitied the woman before him, a woman battered by her own choices. He’d been dealt the ace—been blessed by two people who believed they’d failed as parents the first time around.

  “I forgive you, Mom, for killing my father and abandoning me. But I thank you for allowing Gran and Gramps to raise me.”

  She slammed the tabletop with her fist. “You sound like a twelve-year-old kid instead of a man.”

  “My idea of a man and yours aren’t the same. If you change your mind about wanting to see me, I can arrange another visit. I’d like for us to be friends, but the decision is yours.”

  “Don’t ever come here again. You disgusting piece—”

  He walked out the way he came in. The burden had lifted, but sadness for his mother brought a few unbidden tears.

  3:46 P.M. SUNDAY

  Hours later, Daniel joined his grandparents in the living room. Gramps had entertained them with Scott Joplin while Gran danced. Now they chatted, Gramps sneaking a Snickers and Gran knitting and pretending not to see.

  “I visited Mom today,” he said.

  Gran dropped her knitting. “You did what?”

  “I saw her, talked to her.”

  Gramps shuffled to his feet and headed to the kitchen.

  “Earl, where are you going? Our grandson has just made an incredible announcement and you leave the room. Haven’t I taught you better than that?”

  Daniel swallowed a chuckle at her exasperation, guessing what Gramps had in mind.

  “I’m breaking into the sparkling grape juice.” Glasses rattled in the kitchen. “This is cause for a celebration.”

  “You haven’t heard what happened.” She wiggled her shoulders. “I’d better help him before he breaks one of my crystal glasses.” She glared at Daniel. “Don’t say a word until we’re all back in here together.”

  “Not a word until I have my sparkling grape juice.”

  A few minutes later, the three sat in the living room. “A toast,” Daniel said. “For two people who raised me with morals and a respect for God and country.”

  Gran swiped at her eye. “Thank you, dear boy. But you were easy. Much easier than your father.”

  “Amen to that,” Gramps said. “Tell us everything. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

  Daniel told them about his actions months ago and believing today was the right day to visit her. Gran winked. No doubt she saw through what he didn’t say: Laurel. He’d not confess his deep need to have a clear conscience. He explained how Mom looked and reacted.

  “You’re the man.” Gramps slapped his knee. “You forgave her. That makes you ten feet tall.”

  “I expected this music from heaven or a ‘Well done’ booming.” Daniel took a long drink of grape juice. “Better than those illusions, I simply feel good—like I did a five-mile run and took a long shower.”

  “And changed your clothes.” Gramps grinned.

  “Mercy, forgiveness is healing,” Gran said. “Let’s finish the bottle. I think I’ll write my poor daughter-in-law a letter, see if she’d like a visit.”

  Daniel raised his glass and toasted them. Today proved to him how much he loved his grandparents. If protecting them meant working alongside a criminal, then he’d do it.

  CHAPTER 30

  10:00 P.M. SUNDAY

  Laurel had memorized her shooting of Thatcher Graves to the second. He wore a Kevlar vest with an ample supply of fake blood. She carried a cloth bag containing a dozen eggs and a loaf of whole wheat bread and exited through the automatic doors of Kroger. Her Charger was parked at the far end of the lot, away from other vehicles and innocent people. No one could get hurt tonight.

  Her heels clipped across the pavement.

  Timing.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Thatcher appeared at the driver’s side of her car. “Laurel, I need to talk to you.” His voice rose across the night just loud enough for Cayden’s men to hear, in a truck parked on the edge of the lot.

  She moved faster. Shoulders rigid. Head high. “I told you to leave me alone.”

  “You’re making a terrible mistake with Morton Wilmington. It’s not too late to save us and your career.”

  She laughed. “I’m right where I want to be. The FBI got rid of me.” She sneered. “You and I were never together.”

  “What kind of future do you have with him?”

  “He’s a Christian now.”

  “Right. That’s what he used to get out of prison.”

  “Get away from my car or you’ll regret it.”

  “Not until I talk some sense into you.”

  One-minute conversation over. She dropped the cloth bag onto the pavement and reached for the revolver in her purse, a Ruger that SSA Preston supplied. “You’re jealous. That’s all. I’m tired of your stupid calls.” She pulled the trigger.

  He fell backward, blood spurting from his chest. She chirped her alarm, slid inside, backed over her groceries, and drove away.

  Her attention flew to her rearview mirror. The truck she suspected followed at a safe distance. Her heart wasn’t racing, nor were her hands shaking. This was her job.

  “Done,” she spoke into her phone to SSA Preston.

  One murder closer to nailing Wilmington and Cayden.

  10:30 P.M. SUNDAY

  Daniel’s phone rang, and the number wasn’t familiar. Lately that meant bad news. He walked into the kitchen to take the call.

  “Officer Daniel Hilton here.”

  “This is FBI Supervisory Special Agent Alan Preston regarding Morton Wilmington’s request.”

  As if Daniel would believe a voice on the other end of the phone. “Excuse me? I have no idea who you are.”

  “You’ve been cleared and will be working with Houston FBI until the case is ended.”

  “I’m an HPD officer.”

  “On temporary loan. Can you be at the FBI office tomorrow during your lunch hour to discuss your new responsibilities?”

  Maybe this was legit. He’d call HPD headquarters to find out. “I can be there around eleven.”

  “This is not to be discussed with anyone.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Let the games begin.

  CHAPTER 31

  8:05 A.M. MONDAY

  Daniel started his beat for the day, while his mind spun with the case and what it meant to work with Wilmington and Laurel. Sounded like a bad triangle to him. He responded to an assault at a bakery and coffee shop, his first call of the day. He turned on his siren and cautiously sped through a red light.

  When he walked into the bakery, the Asian owner looked like he’d gotten the knuckle end of a beating—swollen face, broken tooth, and two black eyes. His wife wept while washing blood from the counter, and the owner locked the door behind Daniel.

  “Please, leave the blood there,” he said as he called for backup. “Investigators can determine DNA and fingerprints.”

  The small woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. Should have known that. Makes me feel better to be cleaning. Without something to do, I’m afraid I’ll fall apart.” She stared at the red-tinged cloth. “The blood is my husband’s. The men wore gloves.”

  Great. “Work type or plastic?”

  “The kind medical people use.”

  Her husband, a thin man with glasses, gestured to her. “Sit with me. We’ll talk to the officer together.
”

  “Sir, can I call an ambulance?” Daniel said. “Your injuries should be looked at by medical personnel.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He dabbed at the blood around his mouth.

  “I need to ask a few questions,” Daniel said. “How did this get started?”

  He dragged his tongue over his lips. “We opened at six and the day was just normal. A man and a woman walked in and asked for coffee and donuts. They smelled like they’d been drinking all night. Hadn’t showered either. The man asked for eight buttermilk chocolate glazed, but all I had were six because of a regular pickup order. Told him I’d have more in thirty minutes. He pounded his fist on the counter and called me a liar.” The owner took a long breath, and his wife leaned on his shoulder. “I’m a little more shaken than I thought. Before you arrived, I was mad. Paced the floor before calling 911. Now I keep thinking what could have happened.”

  “I’ll get you some coffee,” his wife said. “You too, Officer?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That would be good.” Daniel offered encouragement in his smile. The couple’s business was in a good neighborhood where crime was at a minimum. “I understand telling me what happened is hard. But everything you remember will help us arrest these guys.”

  The man nodded. “He gave me two minutes to find the rest of his order. I told him if he didn’t leave, I’d call the police.” He touched a purple bruise on his face. “Wrong thing to say. He grabbed me, and I tossed a cup of coffee onto his shirt. You see the result. He said he’d kill me. Pulled a gun out, but the woman told him to calm down. They had a job waiting that was more important than donuts. The two argued, then left.”

  “Was it about leaving or settling things with you?”

  “Leaving. Whatever they were supposed to do had them riled.”

  “Did you recognize the gun?”

  “No, sir. I don’t own one.”

  “Any identifying marks on the two?”

  “The man and woman both had dark hair. Hers was long. They wore jeans. The man had a black T-shirt with a cobra on the front. And a tattoo.”