Crane fried him with a look. “Why is it you always underestimate the retired agent grapevine? You should know better after the way they helped us out with that art theft case.”
“You guys continue to amaze me.”
“I’ll accept that answer.” Crane clicked the television on. “Sox are playing Seattle tonight. Should be a good game.”
Boston was behind. Bad game; great therapy After an inning, Tony stretched and found that his muscles had begun to loosen up.
With a commercial blaring from the set, Crane went to the kitchen. “I’m going to get another soda. You want one?”
“After all that pizza? My mouth is like the Sahara.”
Steve returned with the cans.
Tony took his and popped it open. “Who did you have out on a date?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Tony groaned. “That comeback was old when I was a kid.”
“Well, it was fresh in my day. Besides, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“That comeback’s stale, too.” He took a sip of his root beer. “Lana, Max Webb’s mom.”
Tony choked and lowered his can. ‘You’re—” cough—”kidding.”
“See? I told you.”
“Don’t get me wrong.” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m just … surprised.”
“Surprised that a pretty lady would go out with an old dog like me?” The muscles in Crane’s neck stood out.
Whoa! Stevo had it bad. This was good. “Lady was all right for the Tramp.”
“Sounds like you spend as much time as me watching Disney movies with Max’s kids.” His ex-partner looked at him sideways. “I was pretty sure you’d be torqued about me and Lana.”
“Why would I be? And what do I have to say about it anyway?”
Crane dodged Tony’s gaze. “Not a thing, so drop the subject.”
Tony grinned. What do you know? The tough guy cared what he thought. Kind of nice in a scary sort of way. Almost as scary as what Max’s take on the relationship might be, or what Desi was going to say when she found out.
Tony sat up rigid. “Oh no, Desi! I haven’t called her.”
Crane stared at him. “Oh man, you idjit on a half shell, you haven’t told her?”
Tony crushed his can in his fist and stood. “She’s dealing with enough without my problem.” In the background, the crowd on television went wild over some play neither of them had seen. He snatched up all the empty cans, then stalked through the kitchen and out to the recycling bin in the garage. So he should have called Desi by now. He’d fix the mistake as soon as he threw his uninvited guest out. Tony tossed the cans into the bin and turned to find his ex-partner leaning against the doorjamb.
“You’d better get on the horn, pronto. I guarantee she’s not going to thank you for sparing her feelings. And you’ll be chump change if she hears the news from Max first.”
Tony’s insides froze. Crane got the call from his buddy in a restaurant while eating with Max’s mother. Steve would have explained why he needed to run out on her, and Max’s mom had been home for at least an hour with no reason to keep the breaking news to herself. That horse was out of the barn and long gone in a puff of dust.
“Coming through!” Tony charged past Steve into the kitchen and snatched up the cordless from the counter. He pressed in the autodial number and held his breath.
At the sound of Desi’s voice, Tony’s heart leaped then plummeted. Her recorded greeting. Her phone was in use. She was talking to someone else.
Sweat oozed from his pores.
“Hi, Max.” Not Tony. Rats! “What’s up? Results already on our searches?”
On the sofa next to her, Jo gave her a second dirty look, identical to the one she dished out when Desi’s phone went off a few seconds ago. Desi got up and walked to the corner of the room, where her low-voiced conversation wouldn’t interrupt Jo’s fixation on the program. She kept an eye on the TV screen where Reverend Romlin preached his little heart out.
Max huffed. “It’s frustrating. There doesn’t seem to be any connection between Gordon Corp and HJ Securities. No business reason for the man to seek you out. I’m still tryin’ to find evidence of the construction project. But I didn’t call about that. I—”
“Listen to this!” Desi held the phone toward the TV set.
“The Bible says, ‘Give and it will be given to you, pressed down, shaken together, and running over’ Are you a giver?” The Reverend pointed his finger at the camera, those silvery eyes glittering. “Do you lead a lifestyle of gving? This verse isn’t for the Sunday penny-pincher The one who needs to have his fingers pried off his check when the offering plate comes around. This is a promise for the cheerful giver. Do you belie-e-e-eve that Gawd has a special place in his heart for the generous spirit?”
Desi put the phone back to her ear. “What’s wrong so far?”
“Not a thing. I had the urge to say, ‘Amen, brother, preach it.’ If he could bottle that voice, he’d make a mint … What am I sayin’? He’s already makin’ a bundle off it!”
“Now, that’s a big amen. Remember? I caught a peek at his financial records. Okay, here we go. I think we’re getting to the punch line—or, rather, the bottom line.” Desi turned the phone toward the television again.
“ … expand your vision, brothers and sisters. Get out beyond that local group that confines you to a specific place and time. Don’t be temporal; be spiritual. Here at Inner Witness Ministries, we’re all about taking you to the next level of development in your walk with Gawd. But to accomplish our mission, we need your help. Here’s your chance to show Gawd your gving heart. Make your generous checks out to—”
Desi turned toward the wall. “Oh, gag me with a spoon.” She made an obnoxious noise.
Max laughed then quieted. “It’s not funny. My heart hurts for the people deceived by this shyster. Any ministry that exalts itself above the role of the local church … Grrr! Huge red flag. What’s Jo doin’ now?”
Desi looked over her shoulder. “Making out her check as fast as her fingers can fly.”
Max groaned. “What’s the matter with her? She’s not a stupid woman.”
“I know, hon, but she’ll have to figure this out for herself. Pray that this man’s charisma wears thin and she’s able to see Jesus as the Savior whose love doesn’t need to be bought.”
“There are a lot of people like Jo out there—professional seekers. Easy prey.”
“And no telling how many armchair Christians who think they can make it on electronic fellowship alone.”
“Don’t let’s get started, woman. I didn’t call to depress myself with a philosophical chat on epidemic church problems.”
Desi snickered. “Sounds like a good title for a seminar.”
“Ho-ho-ho! I’ll leave public speaking to you.” Pause. “So, how’s Tony doin’?”
“How should I know? He must be up to his ears in a case.”
A hitch in Max’s breathing. “You mean he hasn’t called you yet? Oh dear.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. What’s the matter? He’s not hurt, is he?”
“Nothing like that. It’s just … well … ”
“Max, if you don’t spit it out, I’m going to—”
“Des! Tony’s fine. He shot a killer today and—”
“Feels like the scum of the earth.” Desi walked into the bedroom. Enough of the Reverend Romlin. “Isn’t it ironic that the best agents feel the worst when they do what the situation calls for? I could kick myself for not trying to reach him again today. And I’m sure going to kick him twice for not calling me to unload.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “How did you find out? He didn’t call you, did he?”
“I got the news from my mom.”
“She’s on the FBI hotline now?”
“Sort of.”
“As Desi Arnaz used to say to Lucille Ball—‘you’ve gots some ‘splainin’ to do.’ “
“All right. But sit down first and keep your cool.”
“I am sitting down, and this is as cool as this cucumber gets when something serious goes down with Tony and he leaves me in the dark. As usual. Oh, don’t worry, I won’t scalp him until after I hug him. So get back to the mom already.”
“Maybe I should let you call him.”
“Ma-a-a-ax!”
Heavy sigh. “Steve Crane took Mom out to Carlucci’s tonight and—”
Desi gave a thin shriek. “Your mom and Crane?” She flopped backward. “Has the world gone insane? I can’t believe—”
“Des!”
“What?”
“Shut! Up!”
“Sorry” What was the matter with her? Pulse jackhammering, brain misfiring, and mouth in hyperdrive. “It’s been a rotten, frustrating, horrible day.”
“You and Tony must’ve had the same kind then. One of Steve’s retired agent cronies called him while he and Mom were at the restaurant. Take a few deep breaths, Des.” A beat of silence. “It’s bad. One of Tony’s squad was killed in the shoot-out.”
Desi’s heart stuttered. She jerked upright, mind reeling. “Who? Hajimoto? Polanski? Erickson?”
“Yeah, that last one.”
Desi slumped. “Oh, no, not Ben. He was Tony’s driver during that business with al Khayr. Ben helped save my life!” Tears welled from her eyes. “Tony must be beside himself. He liked Ben … a lot. Thought he had great potential.” A sob jolted her ribs. “And now all that possibility is gone!” She looked up. “God, what’s going on here? Where are You?”
“That’s it, Des. Get it out.” Max’s voice came from a distant place. “I’m here. God’s here. We’ve got big shoulders for you right now.”
“But where’s Tony?” Desi mashed the phone against her ear. “Why didn’t he call … let me be there for him?”
“You know these shooting investigations are pretty intense, and with a double on his hands, he may not have had a spare second.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” A hollow ache spread from Desi’s core. “If we’re going to make this relationship work, I suppose I’d better get used to being an afterthought.”
“Des, you know I love you to pieces, so in the spirit of friendship, I’m going to ask you one question.”
“Go ahead … I think.”
“Would you like some cheese with that whine?”
A laugh stumbled over a sob. “Youch! Thanks, I needed that.” Desi got up and paced. “I’m going to get off the phone now. Maybe Tony’ll be free soon and have a chance to call.”
“Better yet, you call him. He may be too torn up to reach out to anybody.”
Desi stopped pacing. “You’re telling me he’s home?”
Agitated breathing.
Desi squeezed the phone. “How long since he left the office?”
“Couple of hours. Steve dropped my mom off at home mid-date to go sit with him.”
“So the ex-partner who drives him up a wall is better company than the woman who thinks he hung the moon?” Desi ate up the floor in hefty strides. “Tony and I needed each other today. He’s not the only one with earth-rattling news. I’m sitting on a bombshell that not even you know about, and he couldn’t return a phone call. Why? He was too shook up? Oh, no, not Anthony Lucano. I can just hear his reasoning. ‘Protect Desiree at all costs. Make sure she never does anything dangerous or has to deal with bad news. After all, I’m her guardian angel.’”
“Des, stop! What bombshell?”
“Forget it, Max. And don’t try to call me back tonight. I won’t answer, because I can’t be responsible for what I might say. If Tony ever does get around to ringing my number, he’ll be lucky if I pick up. Bye, Max.”
Desi closed the connection and stood staring at a hideous black and purple wall. Tears blurred the colors into a muddy mess. She faded onto the bed and curled into a ball.
What kind of terrible person had she turned into? A fine man was dead, his family devastated, Tony grief-stricken and no doubt finding a million ways to blame himself, and here she was bawling her eyes out because she wasn’t in the loop.
She loved Tony with every molecule of her heart and soul, but if he didn’t trust her enough to share himself with her, how could they have a relationship worth keeping?
Her ringtone started playing. Desi squinted to focus the caller ID. Her throat closed.
Tony.
Eleven
The phone rang in Tony’s ear … once … twice … Pick up, honey. On the third ring, he turned away from a scowling Stevo.
The phone clicked. “Hello?”
“Desi, is that you, sweetheart?”
“Ye-e-es.” Ragged breath.
Tony’s heart tore. “Are you crying?”
“No.” Deep breath. “I mean, yes, but I’m trying not to.”
“Were you just on the phone with Max?”
“Uh-huh.”
He leaned his forehead against the refrigerator. “She beat me to the punch.”
“Don’t blame her.” The edge in Desi’s tone could have cut rock.
“You’re mad at me, and you have a right to be.”
“I’m angry, and I hate myself for feeling that way.”
“So I act like a jerk, and you take it out on yourself?” He stuck a hand in his pocket.
“Oh, Tony!” Stifled sniff. “This can’t be about me … or even about you. Ben’s poor family!” The sobs came unglued.
Pain skewered a spot between Tony’s eyebrows. He squeezed his eyes shut, and wetness fell onto his cheeks. He could only manage a hoarse whisper out of a strangled windpipe. “Yeah, I know.”
Desi’s crying gentled. Little sounds intruded on the quiet between them. A ticking clock. A gust of wind rattling the windowpane. The soft click of the front door closing.
Tony pulled in a deep breath. “Des, I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. The job got ahold of me, and I didn’t want to stop and think. But then they made me go home, and it was like … ” His fingers wrapped around a fistful of hair. “I shut down. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Let’s not worry about that now. I want to be there for you.”
“I wish.” He wandered into the living room and plopped into his chair. “I should have called you right back after you left that message this afternoon. I ought to have my head examined for stopping myself.”
Slight pause. “You stopped yourself?”
“It wouldn’t have been fair to dump on you and then run back to my business when you’ve already got Max’s burden on your shoulders.”
“You delayed the inevitable by a few hours, Tony”
“Yeah, but I figured if I waited we could talk as long as we wanted.”
“That part’s good.”
What was off about the tone of this conversation? He called and apologized. She cried … well, he did, too, a little. Now they were ready to wrap their arms around each other. It was all good. What had he missed?
“Never mind, darling.” Small sigh. “We’ll deal with us later. Right now, I’m afraid I have to toss a few of my burdens your way I’ve found out some wild things.”
“I’m all ears, babe.” So that was it. She had information, and he’d blown her off. He should have known that Desi hadn’t called this afternoon just to vent.
“The morning started out with quite a jolt—stolen car, blood drops.”
“Details, hon.” Tony sat forward as she told him about the stolen car, Jo and Brent’s frenzied conclusion that Karen must be alive, and the blood in the carport.
“Jo’s on pins and needles for the results,” she said. “I don’t know whether to hope the blood is Karen’s or not.”
“Tell Jo not to expect a quick answer. These things don’t work as fast in real life as they do on CSI.” He chuckled. “Turnaround for DNA is at least a couple of weeks in our swamped crime labs—and that’s with a rush on it. Average is sixty days. But the Bureau is very good at meticulous, long-term inv
estigations, so the wait doesn’t bother us too often.”
“The Bureau might have to kick it into high gear on this one … like yesterday.”
Tony squashed a spurt of irritation. Desi was under a lot of stress, the same as he was. “We’re good at that, too. What’ve you got?”
“Well, I didn’t mean to horn in on the missing persons investigation, but just to drop by Reverend Romlin’s ministry headquarters in Santa Fe. Talk to people, maybe find out if anyone had seen or spoken to Karen, or at least if anyone could shed light on what she might have been thinking when she disappeared.”
“That’s horning in on the investigation, hon, but go on.”
Desi huffed and seconds ticked past. The old mental ten-count, but he wasn’t about to apologize when he could be saying “I told you so.”
“All right, then.” Her voice was tight. “I didn’t go to the main office. Max found an address off the beaten path, and this bouncy coed type mistook me for someone from Gordon Corp. She gushed all over, so excited about moving into the Holy City.”
Tony’s spine stiffened. “The what?”
“Believe it or not, the good Reverend and his major supporter, Hamilton Gordon, are building themselves a town called Sanctuary at some supersecret spot in the desert.”
“The new Waco!” Tony leaped to his feet.
“Yes, I know. It’s very wacko.”
“No, I said Waco.” He paced his living room. “An anonymous phone caller told me to look for the new Waco.”
“As in that sect back in the nineties? David Koresh’s bunch that holed up in a compound and wouldn’t come out?”
“One and the same.”
Desi groaned. “Didn’t they burn themselves to the ground? Lots of people died, including children.”
Tony’s blood ran thin and fast. He strode for his kitchen peninsula and snagged a notepad and pen. “Start at the beginning, and tell me every detail.” He wrote until his fingers were sore. “This is great stuff, Des. You’ve always been a top-notch eyewitness.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“Don’t thank me too much.” He put down the pen and flexed the ache out of his hand muscles. “A big piece of me would like to lock you up to keep you out of trouble. These people aren’t playing patty-cake.”
Reluctant Runaway Page 14