by Kylie Brant
“I guess Beardmore had his reasons for naming her to this case. Is she a strict by-the-book type or is she going to be willing to listen to some theories?”
“Only one way to find out.” Dare snagged his bottle with two fingers and rose. Ambling in Addie’s direction, he accepted her cool look with equanimity. Although she was as impeccably groomed as ever, there was a hint of strain around her mouth that hadn’t been there earlier today. The thought occurred that she worked too hard, but he banished the concern before it could form. She wouldn’t welcome the emotion from anyone, especially him. He noted the way her spine straightened at his approach, as if she were physically arming herself to do battle. Then he passed by her, whistling tunelessly between his teeth. Continuing to the jukebox in the corner, he gave scrupulous attention to feeding quarters into the machine and choosing songs. When the strains of his first selection drifted through the smoke-filled air of the tavern, he retraced his steps through the bar. The Eagles were predicting a heartbreak tonight when he slowed beside Addie, who was chatting with some off-duty cops.
“Well, Addison Jacobs, as I live and breathe.” Dare’s eyes crinkled over the top of the bottle he brought to his lips. “Fancy seeing you twice in one day.”
“I’m not in the mood for more of your babbling, McKay.” She attempted to brush by him, but with a subtle shift of position he remained in her path. He saw her eyes narrow and hid a grin. No doubt she was considering a sharp elbow to his ribs. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Despite her ethereal looks, she was about as helpless as a piranha.
“I hope you had some food sent in while you were working late. It isn’t good to drink on an empty stomach.”
Her voice was cool. “What makes you think I haven’t just come from a restaurant?”
“You’re still wearing that butt-ugly suit you had on earlier.” He nodded toward her clothes, pretended he didn’t notice her eyes go to smolder. “Figured you’d have changed if you had dinner plans. You might want to consider something more colorful the next time you’re due to appear on the five-o’clock news. You looked a little washed out.”
“A fashion critique from a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, jeans and cowboy boots.” She gave him a mocking smile. “You can’t imagine what that means to me.”
“Oh, I think I can.” Dare rocked back on his heels and considered, not for the first time, what it was about this woman that made him continually bait her. No doubt it was a desire to draw some genuine emotion from her, even if it was negative. A juvenile objective, to be sure, but sometimes maturity was vastly overrated.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” she said with exaggerated patience. “I need to speak to someone.”
“I know.” He rubbed at the bottle’s condensation with his thumb. “Detective Connally’s waiting for you.”
Her gaze traveled to the detective and then back to him. “Am I going to be able to talk to him without you pressing your ear up against the table?”
Because he knew it would annoy her, he gave her a wink. “I’ve already published most of Connally’s information. As a matter of fact, I actually provided him with some of it. But I guess it’s time for you to catch up. Be my guest.”
When he turned and sauntered away, she strode toward the detective, who’d risen. “Detective Connally.” She reached out, shook his hand. “Good to see you again. I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice.” She sat down, setting her briefcase on the floor beside her.
“No problem. I’m as anxious as you are to see Delgado locked up for good.”
She drew a legal pad out of the side pocket of her briefcase. “We went over the main points surrounding the arrest, after you took Delgado in custody. But I need to clear up some details so I can begin to prepare for the case.” She consulted her notes on the pad. “Paul Delgado approached Meghan Patterson when she’d gone to The Children’s Academy to pick up her nephew, is that right?” She waited for Gabe’s nod before asking, “You’ve listed two witnesses who saw him get into her car. Are they both prepared to testify?”
Gabe nodded. “Chris O’Malley was across the street at the time, and recognized Meghan and her car. She saw a man approach her, but couldn’t ID him for sure. The other woman, Lana Thul, was parked a ways ahead of Meghan. She got a clear view of Delgado with her.”
“And then he drove her to 1510 Beck Street and kept her there for…how long?”
“It was about five hours before my partner and I arrived.”
A.J.’s gaze dropped to her notes again. “In your attempt to rescue Miss Patterson, Delgado assaulted you with the same weapon he’d threatened the victim with, and you fought with him physically. Before you’d subdued him, the victim was stabbed and she was taken to the hospital.” She looked at him. “How badly was she hurt?” The extent of her injuries could well prove to play a part in the case.
“It was a nasty wound. But she won’t suffer any lasting damage. Her shoulder’s still stiff, but she’s regained the use of her arm.”
Detecting an odd note in the man’s voice, she paused. “You seem pretty familiar with her prognosis.”
His gaze was steady. “Meghan Patterson is my fiancée.”
Sitting back in her chair, A.J. released a breath. “I didn’t know that.”
With a glint in his eye, Gabe said, “Are you telling me that changes things?”
“It doesn’t change the facts. But,” she added honestly, “it does give the defense a red herring to distract the jury with.”
“Meaning he’ll try to prove my testimony is biased because of my relationship with Meghan.”
She nodded. “Luckily your partner can back up your story. How far behind you was Madison? A few seconds? Several minutes?”
“He was at my back. Couldn’t have been more than three seconds after me, tops.”
“Good. His testimony will corroborate yours.”
“There’s no question about what happened in that room,” Gabe said bluntly. “Delgado tried to kill Meghan, and then me. I figure he snatched Meghan because he believed she could ID him. She and her nephew were just across the alley from the apartment of a perp I was investigating. Delgado was the last one to be seen with my suspect before the guy wound up dead. We were able to put together an artist sketch and posted copies all over the city.”
It could fit nicely, A.J. thought, when putting together a motive for the kidnapping. If, as the detective claimed, Delgado had reason to fear identification, eliminating an eyewitness could be motivation for murder. “What was Delgado involved in? How’d he figure into your original investigation?”
“You’ve got a copy of his rap sheet and sentences?” At her nod, Gabe went on. “I have reason to believe that he’s expanded his activities. Have you ever heard of Paulie the Knife?” The detective barely waited for her negative response. “He’s a hired assassin, known for his ability with a blade. There’s no picture of him on file. But his reputation is known by law enforcement agencies across the country. He’s wanted for questioning in more than a dozen homicides in just the last few years. We had three bodies show up during my case that very well could be the result of his handiwork.”
It took a second for A.J. to see where he was heading with the explanation. “You think Delgado is the hit man known as Paulie the Knife?” She sipped from her glass and considered the information. “Hired assassins don’t come cheap. Whoever hired him would have to have connections. Money. Power.”
“It didn’t take him long to lawyer up,” Gabe observed. “I understand that he never made any phone calls once he was in custody. Refused the offer, but Paquin showed up hours later, regardless. Makes me wonder if someone else sent him.”
“Not necessarily. Paquin is a media junkie. He gets off on being in the limelight. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to take this case pro bono just because of the exposure it’s going to generate for him. He may well have approached Delgado and offered his services free of charge.”
“How familiar are
you with Paquin’s career?”
She leaned back in her chair and studied the detective. “I’ve known him for about four years. Why?”
“Before that time, he defended a local scumbag named Victor Mannen, who was being charged with murder. The witnesses were in protective custody, but they, and the U.S. Marshals protecting them, were killed right before the trial was to begin. One got away, but disappeared.”
“Interesting, but irrelevant.” A.J. brought the glass to her lips and drank. “Paquin has built his career defending slugs like that. What does that have to do with this case?”
“In the course of our investigation we began to suspect that Delgado was working for Mannen. And Mannen’s former lawyer is representing Delgado.”
“Hardly a coincidence. Paquin is the most prominent defense attorney in the area. Did you discover any solid evidence connecting Delgado to this Paulie person?”
A muscle clenched in Gabe’s jaw. “Not yet.”
“Anything linking him to Mannen?”
“No.” The word was clipped, as the man’s frustration began to show. “But while he held Meghan, Delgado told her that he had a job to do on me, too. He was working for someone else, I’m certain of it. Right now I’m breathing down Mannen’s neck, and having me out of the way eliminates a threat.”
A.J. slipped her legal pad back into her briefcase. “I’m not saying it isn’t possible. But you have to get me evidence to support that theory. For now I’m building a case based on the kidnapping and attempted murder of Meghan Patterson.” She rose. “I’ll be in touch soon. I’ll want to speak to Meghan as soon as it can be arranged.”
She walked by Dare’s table on her way to the bar, not sparing him a glance. He watched her hand her glass to the bartender before she headed for the door. It was a curious habit she had. No one was ever allowed to buy her a drink, and she never left her glass on the table. She was an enigma, he thought, as she strode to the door with that brisk, no-nonsense walk of hers. At one time he’d thought there was more to her than that composed professional facade she showed to the world. He’d been wrong.
He walked back to Gabe’s table and slipped into the chair she’d vacated. “You know, you’re wearing an expression common to men who have recently had the pleasure of Ms. Jacobs’s company.”
The detective sent him a sour look. “God save me from lawyers. They can’t see anything unless it’s in black-and-white.”
“Then we’ll just have to find some hard evidence to convince her.”
“We?” Gabe reached for his bottle and drained it. “I don’t think so. Last I looked, my partner and I were named investigators in this case.”
Nodding, Dare said mildly, “I know. I also remember how incredibly stingy you are with your information. But don’t worry. I’ll still share whatever I uncover with you.” At the other man’s muttered curse, he laughed.
“What’s your stake in this, McKay?” Gabe’s tone was genuinely curious. “That information you gave us tying Mannen to our investigation…that had to have taken months to put together.”
The guess fell far short of the truth, but Dare didn’t correct the man. He raised his arm in the air to summon the waitress. “My stake? The story of course.” His gaze went to the door Addie had just exited through and his smile faded. “Just the story.”
Her upcoming case was the furthest thing from A.J.’s mind as she walked through the discreetly lettered doors of St. Anne’s Hospital. Recognizing the woman at the desk, she smiled. “Good evening, Sister Katherine.”
The nun beamed at her. “A.J. We were beginning to think you wouldn’t make it tonight.”
“I know it’s past visiting hours, but I thought if she was awake…”
Sister Katherine nodded. “I’m sure Mandy hasn’t gone to bed yet. She’s been having some trouble sleeping lately.”
The reminder brought A.J. up short. “I know.” She hovered in front of the desk with a hesitant air that was completely foreign to her. “Has she…is she any better?”
The nun’s creased face settled into a mask of sympathy. “She’s about the same. But the doctor is very encouraged by this new medication she’s on. I’m sure there’ll be progress soon.”
Masking her disappointment, A.J. nodded before turning to walk the familiar path to room 118. She paused in the doorway of the spacious room, watched the figure move rhythmically in the rocking chair, crooning to the doll she held.
“Hi. You’re up kind of late tonight, aren’t you?” The cheerful note in her voice sounded forced, but it didn’t matter. There was no response to her words. Heart sinking a little, she moved into the room and put her arm around the narrow shoulders, kissed the pale cheek.
“That’s a pretty doll,” she continued brightly. She reached out a finger to touch it, and it was yanked away, clutched against a frail chest.
“Mine!”
A.J.’s shoulders drooped a little, and her voice grew strained. The word was the only one she’d heard Mandy speak for two weeks. “Yes, I know it’s yours. It’s very pretty.”
Silence filled the room, the kind that wove around the heart and squeezed tight. She took a deep breath and then released it slowly. She shouldn’t have come tonight. The day had been too stressful to maintain her usual unshakable composure. But she could never manage to stay away.
She moved to the dresser and picked up the ornate hair-brush. “Shall I brush your hair for you?” Although there was no answer, she began, anyway, drawing the brush through Mandy’s fine hair with long, soothing strokes. It was one of the few intimacies she would allow these days, and A.J. thought it seemed to soothe her. In truth, it soothed them both.
That was how Sister Katherine found them half an hour later. “I’m sorry to interrupt your visit, but we really should get Mandy to bed.”
Nodding, she replaced the brush on the dresser and picked up her purse. The nun withdrew from the doorway, giving them a moment of privacy. “I’ll try to come back tomorrow,” she whispered. Even without a response, she couldn’t stop trying to reach out. Couldn’t stop hoping for some sort of miracle.
She bent, pressed her lips to the soft, blond hair and prayed for a divine intervention that wouldn’t come. With an all-too-familiar heaviness in her heart she whispered, “Good night, Mama.”
Chapter 2
A.J. was too used to sleepless nights to be slowed down by the one she’d just spent. She was in her office shortly after dawn, preparing for her morning in court. The armed robbery case she was trying was dragging on far longer than it needed to. But Gaffney was allowing the defense to bring up arguments ranging from his client’s abusive childhood to the culpability of the gun manufacturers. As if, A.J. fumed, after the case had been recessed for the day, anyone other than the defendant had been in that liquor store firing the shots that had critically wounded the owner.
Her mood didn’t improve appreciably when she strode into her office and found Mark Stanley lounging near Song’s desk. “Mark.” A.J.’s voice wasn’t welcoming. “I thought we were meeting after lunch.”
Stanley flashed his toothpaste-ad-bright smile and said smoothly, “I’m afraid I had to schedule another appointment for then. And I really didn’t want to wait any longer to be brought up to speed on the Delgado case.”
Mentally kissing away any chance of grabbing more than a stale sandwich at her desk later, she nodded. “Go on in.”
While Mark entered her cramped office ahead of her, A.J. looked at Song and asked, “Did you have time to…”
Two copies of the notes from last night’s meeting with Connally, freshly typed, appeared in the woman’s hand. “Right here.”
“That’s why I keep you around, Song.”
“Does it make up for letting McKay sneak into your office when my back was turned yesterday?”
Clutching the papers in one hand, she surveyed her assistant. “Sneaking is McKay’s forte. Next time you’ll be forewarned.”
“Next time I won’t take my eyes off him
,” Song promised solemnly. “Believe me, it will be no hardship.”
Closing the door on the woman’s giggle, A.J. concentrated on the man roaming her cramped office space. “Why don’t you light somewhere, Mark, and we can get started?”
The man smoothed his perfectly groomed dark hair. “Maybe we should move this into my office. We’d have more room.”
His words were something of an exaggeration, since they all occupied cubicles that looked claustrophobic with more than three people in them. But appearances were important enough to Mark that he’d equipped his office at his own personal expense. She knew he considered the trappings as a measure of his success, his stature in the department. Just as she knew that his ruthlessly combative streak was honed even sharper where she was concerned.
“Oh, I think we can manage here.” Going to her briefcase and unlocking it, she withdrew the file Dennis had given her on the case and handed it to the other lawyer. While he skimmed through the items included in the file, she sat down at her desk and reread the notes Song had typed for her. She needed time to weave a strong connection between the victim and Delgado, but Connally had at least given her the foundation. Once she’d gotten home last night she’d jotted down a few more questions she wanted to ask the detective. One she hadn’t noted, but still stuck in her mind, was the man’s link to McKay. She couldn’t help but wonder how the reporter had acquired the information he’d shared with Connally prior to Delgado’s arrest. The most obvious solution would be to ask him. She’d rather chew glass.
Mark closed the file and looked up. “Is this all you’ve got?”
“Since I just acquired the case twenty-four hours ago, I don’t have a whole lot of details yet,” A.J. responded dryly.