Double Cross

by DiAnn Mills

  CHAPTER 39

  1:45 P.M. WEDNESDAY

  Daniel swapped out the BMW for his truck and hurriedly changed his clothes from “Krestle” to jeans and a pullover. He doused his hair with a bottle of water and sped to the hospital. The doctors were taking care of Pete, and a few minutes for Daniel to change his disguise meant staying on the case.

  Attempting to poison his grandparents would have worked if not for Gran despising pizza and not allowing Gramps to have it. Plus they always ate lunch at eleven thirty.

  He pulled into the visitor parking area of Houston Methodist Hospital and pressed in Laurel’s burner number on his burner phone.

  “Laurel, I have a problem.”

  “What’s happened?”

  He explained the pizza poisoning.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Think about it. Cayden’s people are tailing both of us. I’ve changed clothes and have my truck.”

  “I’ll lose them and change up my looks.”

  “This is beginning to feel like a bad movie.”

  “It’s what we do, Daniel. Don’t worry. Pete will be okay, and I won’t give myself away. I promise.”

  2:40 P.M. WEDNESDAY

  As afternoon lowered its shawl over the city, Laurel hurried into Methodist Hospital. Temps dipped into the fifties, unusually chilly and yet befitting her mood. Why couldn’t they catch these guys?

  She exited a rented vehicle wearing a long dark wig and a cap, a dark-brown tunic, leggings, and boots with four-inch heels.

  She and Daniel had their differences—more like oceans dividing them with the faith issue—but the officer’s serious condition was a result of someone wanting his grandparents dead. She cared about Abby and Earl, and that brought her and Daniel together in many ways. She loathed that older people were losing thousands of dollars and others were dying of supposedly natural causes. Yet she was convinced Wilmington had a part in it.

  October 15 loomed like a savage beast. Nine days until the fund-raising dinner. So many agents were on the case. The FBI needed a list of the guests. The obvious ploy would be the scammers having their hands on credit card information. The next step would be identifying how the money would be laundered. And what about all the money stolen from the elderly? How had it been laundered? If the victims hadn’t taken steps to ensure the safety of their funds, then more would be drawn from their financials.

  Inside the hospital, Daniel and his grandparents sat in a waiting area. Whom did she approach first? So much for the confident agent who managed her life according to textbook principles. She made her way to them and spoke before Daniel recognized her. He rose and gave her a hug, then directed her away from his grandparents. The strength in his arms flooded her senses. She refused to get used to this.

  “Thanks for coming. Good job with the getup.” A slight smile from him met her. “Pete’s holding his own. He’s conscious.”

  “Stomach pumped?”

  “Yes, and they’re filling him with IV fluids. His wife is with him.”

  “I bet he’s miserable. What’s the word on the poison?”

  “Poisonous mushrooms,” Daniel said. “We have a report from a restaurant near them about a young woman dressed in jeans and a baseball cap who picked up the pizza matching what was delivered to my grandparents. She avoided the security camera but appears to be the same size as Fields.”

  “She’s persistent. Getting bolder.”

  “More like desperate. She’s pressed me a little too far. Not sure poisoning would hold up for a life insurance policy, but she obviously thought so. She altered her appearance from her stint at Silver Hospitality and the bakery.”

  Laurel had spent hours analyzing this woman. “Feeds into her behavior.”

  “Fields is working to eliminate as many people as possible who bought life insurance policies.”

  “Would she think your grandparents had any incriminating information other than the life insurance policies?”

  “Only the brochure.” He paused. “They could possibly have something else, but Gran or Gramps would have told me.”

  “Daniel, with your grandfather’s health . . .”

  “I’m well aware of what he does and doesn’t remember.” He glanced away as though thinking. “I’m going through every inch of their house tonight. Don’t want to assume anything without looking into every angle.”

  Abby walked to their side and took Laurel’s hand. “Took me a minute until I saw your pretty brown eyes. I appreciate your coming. We’re concerned about Pete, but he’s better. I admit he had me shaken before the paramedics arrived.”

  Laurel glanced at Earl. “Is your husband okay?”

  “Not his mind. Skipping, as he calls it.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Abby smiled. “His places are often better than the real ones. Days like this I envy him.”

  When Laurel pondered the blackness of her own life, an escape into oblivion sounded appealing. As a teen, she’d used sex and whatever else to smother reality. Nothing helped. She gave up. The only temporary satisfaction came from doing her job.

  Daniel suddenly took fast steps toward the hospital elevators.

  Laurel saw the woman leaving too, dressed in hospital scrubs—Josie Fields.

  “Stop, HPD!” he said and pulled his gun.

  Fields raced toward the entrance doors, turned, and fired, narrowly missing Daniel and sending a bullet back through the hospital reception area. Screams erupted. People bolted and sought refuge. Fields sprinted outside and into the parking lot with Daniel and Laurel in pursuit.

  Laurel held her breath. Had she already gotten to Pete?

  Daniel fired.

  Fields grabbed her right thigh and shot at him again. Blood seeped down the leg of her scrubs.

  “I need her alive!” Daniel shouted.

  Fields turned and took dead aim at Daniel.

  Laurel pressed the trigger. Fields staggered, and blood gushed from her upper left shoulder. A black Escalade sped to her side. The driver yanked her onto the front seat. It sped away before Fields’s feet left the ground.

  Laurel and Daniel pumped rounds into the vehicle’s rear. It wove through the parking lot in a squeal of tires and with a host of holes, including a shattered rear window.

  “Run-flat tires,” Daniel said. “What haven’t they done to cover their rears?”

  “Blood spatters will help prove her identity.” Laurel’s frustration at not stopping the Escalade burst into her words. “The best we can hope for is her need for medical assistance.”

  “I have the license plate number.” Daniel sounded strange.

  Laurel whirled around. Blood poured from his left lower arm, near his wrist. She swallowed, remembering Jesse bleeding out. Already her feelings were getting in the way of her job.

  He set his jaw. “Got me one more reason to find that woman. She’d better not have hurt Pete.”

  “At least we’re at a hospital.”

  “Can you get her blood sample?”

  She reached for her phone. “I need to call the Evidence Response Team for one of them to collect it.” She made the request while concern for Daniel’s wound mounted, competing with the urgency to keep the blood sample safe from contamination until the ERT arrived.

  “I’m calling Preston,” Daniel said, his face pinched with the pain.

  “With the shots, HPD will be here soon. They’ll be checking all the hospitals and clinics.”

  A security guard hurried to their side.

  Daniel flipped his HPD creds. “Stay here until authorities arrive. HPD and the FBI are on their way. I’ll be inside the hospital.”

  “Don’t touch the crime scene,” she said. “Guard this blood spatter until it’s photographed and gathered.”

  Supporting his wounded wrist while blood seeped between his fingers, Daniel moved toward the hospital entrance. “Guess it could have been my right arm.”

  And Daniel might have ended up like Jesse. “I should have
seen her before you.”

  “Why? So the FBI could have credit for saving a lowly cop?”

  He hurt and she understood where the cutting words came from. “No, you idiot. My awareness might have prevented your injury.”

  “Heroic.”

  “The ER is around the corner,” she said.

  Abby met them outside the hospital door. She covered her mouth and stepped forward.

  “I’m checking on Pete first. Not now, Gran. The bullet grazed me, more blood than anything else.”

  “You can’t help Pete like this. You can’t even help yourself.” Abby sounded harsh, but fear didn’t have a fixed vocabulary.

  “Daniel,” Laurel said. “I’ll see about Pete. You’re losing more blood than you realize.”

  Lines raked across his forehead. “I’m heading up the elevator. I don’t give a rip about what some medical professional says. Gran, stay with Gramps. Laurel, you can go with me or do whatever. Your choice.”

  Gran removed her sweater and wrapped it around Daniel’s wrist.

  “You are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.” Laurel wanted to shake her fist at him.

  He glared at her. “I’m in good company.”

  CHAPTER 40

  3:15 P.M. WEDNESDAY

  Daniel managed to endure Laurel’s lecture in the elevator and find Pete’s room. The pain in his wrist thumped in time to his heartbeat. When had he become such a wuss? He’d never been shot by a female until today. It hurt just like the time he’d been shot by a drunk a few years ago.

  But first things first.

  Pete’s wife, an attractive redhead, sat at her husband’s bedside. She rested one hand on his shoulder. Daniel greeted her, then focused on Pete. He opened his eyes and frowned.

  Daniel bent over the bed. “Hey, Pete. How are you doing? Heard you liked pizza.”

  “Very funny. Looks like I’m doing better than you are. You must have tangled with the gal who serves up tasty mushrooms with pepperoni and extra cheese.”

  “Was she here?”

  “Yeah. Tried to stick something in my IV, but I recognized her. Took off real fast. The little wife tore after her too. My kind of woman.” He blew a kiss at her. “I pushed the call button, but she got away.” He squinted. “Who’s with you?”

  Daniel chuckled. “Laurel.”

  “Makes me wonder what’s going on with you two.” He shook his head. “Aren’t you with Morton Wilmington? And why the disguise?”

  “Yes. But Abby and Earl are special people.”

  His grin told Daniel that Pete understood exactly what was going on. “This stays right here. You can trust me.”

  Laurel stepped closer. “Thanks, Pete. Daniel recognized your delivery gal leaving the hospital and chased her outside.”

  Pete positioned his fingers like a gun. “She must have fired her pleasure at being chased.”

  “He left a bullet in her thigh,” she said.

  Daniel forced a chuckle. “Laurel’s aim did more damage to her shoulder. Somebody was waiting for her to exit and picked her up. Or rather, dragged her into an SUV.” He reached deep for pain control. “I wanted her alive for questioning.” Great, he was whining.

  She shrugged. “Admit it, we’re a sick team. All three of us nursing our wounds. And the bad guys are on the loose.”

  Pete closed his eyes. “I’m on the mend. Batman and Batgirl need therapy.”

  Daniel snorted at Pete’s remark and eased onto a chair, noting the blood staining Gran’s sweater, a new one that he’d bought her. He’d replace it. “You’re the officer of concern here. What’s the diagnosis?”

  “After the stomach pump and taking enough blood to start my own bank, the doc announced an overnighter.”

  “Good call. Bet you won’t be eating pizza for a long time.”

  Pete lifted a brow. “The thought of even smelling it makes me want to puke. Let’s cut the chitchat. You need a doctor.”

  “I’ll get to it.” The overprotective virus was killing him worse than the gunshot. “What can you tell me about the gal who delivered the pizza? I want to make sure it’s the same person we just shot.”

  “Dressed like a teen. Perky and sweet.” He responded with the same story Gran had told. “The moment I started feeling sick, I suspected what happened. At least it was me and not your grandparents. Some bodyguard I am. The gal said you ordered it hand-delivered on their kitchen table, but that didn’t fly with me.”

  The situation raised Daniel’s fury. His earlier commitment to search through every inch of their home now became urgent. “I’m putting Gran and Gramps in a hotel tonight. Sending them home bothers me. The shooter might not be moving too fast right now, if she’s even alive, but she’s not the only one involved.”

  “Who is she?”

  “She uses several aliases.”

  “I agree your grandparents need to be moved. What about keeping an officer posted at their home in case someone shows?” Laurel said.

  Why did every comment make him mad? “I’m getting this arm bandaged up, and I’ll handle protective detail myself.”

  Laurel planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so, Officer Hilton. You can’t be alone in your condition. You’ll be given pain meds, and those things knock you out. Better to hire someone.”

  “Says who?”

  “Hold on,” Pete said. “Do you two always get along like this?”

  “Always,” Laurel huffed. “No wonder he doesn’t have a partner with HPD.”

  “Don’t get me started,” Daniel said. “No one knows the real Laurel.”

  Pete’s wife laughed. She hadn’t spoken two words since they walked in to check on her husband. “Let me point out the obvious—both of you have injuries and that sets the stage for bickering. I suggest you lock up your weapons.”

  “Then we’ll take care of each other.” Laurel rubbed Daniel’s back, then caught herself and stopped. “After a doctor looks at his arm.”

  “Wrist.”

  “Lower arm.”

  “Okay, Batgirl,” Daniel said. “Let’s get Batman fixed up. We have a cave to investigate.”

  7:00 P.M. WEDNESDAY

  Daniel’s grandparents’ home lit up the darkness with the highest quality landscaping lights and motion detectors on the market. They were so sensitive, squirrels could occasionally trigger them. But all the precautions he’d put in place for his grandparents’ safety, including the bodyguards, were useless if someone wanted inside badly enough.

  He pulled his truck into the driveway, and Laurel hugged the curb with her rented vehicle. At least the long night ahead gave him time to persuade her about looking to the future. His conscience slammed against his heart. They had an unsolved case. Hadn’t he decided his first concern should be his grandparents and all the victimized elderly’s welfare? And what about the condition of her soul? But to reach that area, he needed to understand her past. Anything else was selfish.

  Before exiting his truck, he reached into his glove box and swallowed three Tylenol dry. The prescription meds would have to wait. He stepped out and chirped the truck alarm system. A moment later Laurel joined him. Her incredible nut-brown eyes still stole his breath.

  “Are you sure you feel up to this?” she said.

  He chuckled. What a loaded question. “How did you respond to that when you were shot? I recall a concern for Phantom while you looked for clues in the dark.”

  “Touché. You could nap while I stand guard. Then we can do the searching.”

  “Batman and Batgirl work together. Beside, you’re recovering from a bullet too.”

  “Not by the same gun.”

  “More of a reason for us to stay alert. Let’s park our vehicles in the garage.” He pointed to the driveway winding around the home. “If someone shows up, I want the element of surprise on our side.”

  “Sure. With the lights on, it’ll look like your grandparents are at home.”

  They drove to the rear of the house and parked inside the fo
ur-car garage.

  “Look at the tools.” She ran her fingers over a locked chest. “Why two enormous tool chests?”

  “One for Gran and one for Gramps.”

  “After spending time with your grandmother, I’m not surprised.”

  “Until five years ago, she changed the oil on their vehicles.”

  Laurel shook her head. After ensuring the house was clear, a task in which she let him lead the room-to-room search, she touched his arm.

  “I want to see the trophy room again,” she said. “The one with the animals.”

  He laughed. “We call it the game room.”

  “More like big game room. Did your grandfather shoot the bear, lion, jackal, and I think the mounting was a crocodile?”

  “Nope.”

  “So he collected them?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why are they there?”

  “Gran shot them.”

  She shook her head. “Is there anything she hasn’t done?”

  “She has a bucket list.”

  “What’s left?”

  “Crocheting a blanket for my child.”

  She drew in a breath. “I see.”

  Sometimes the thought of parenthood gave him hope of doing better than his own parents. Other times it shook him worse than facing bad guys without a weapon.

  They entered the kitchen.

  “Wow.” She surveyed the room, and her eyes sparkled. “This kitchen is amazing. Stainless steel appliances, and I’d trade my stash of Snickers for these copper pans. Cupboards to the ceiling too.” She whirled around. “Two gas ovens. Yet it’s comfortable. Like your grandparents . . . and you.”

  “Did I hear a compliment?”

  “If you think being compared to a kitchen the size of my apartment is a compliment, go for it.”

  “Why not? Don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.”

  “Great. I’ll put on coffee,” he said. “We could have omelets before we dive into the night’s search.”

  “Perfect.” She tore off the wig and washed her hands. “Lots of veggies would be great. Did you ask permission to look through your grandparents’ personal possessions?”