She shook her head. “What in the world—”
He silenced her with two fingers against her lips. “Gordon’s following you. Stay here. I’ll take care of this.” He swept the area with his gaze. No one else nearby. Everyone intent on the crime scene. He moved to the front of the van, patting the empty spot where his holster should be. Gordon came on. Tony flexed his hands. Stupid time to be without a weapon. He could halt the slimy pachyderm before he got another millimeter closer to Desiree, but now he’d have to—
A hand grabbed his sleeve. He stared down into furious hazel, eyes. Didn’t the woman have a grain of common sense? “Get back, Des. Now!”
Desi stepped away and glared up at him. “Hold your horses, Wyatt Earp. He’s my cousin.” She jerked her head at Gordon, who stopped and looked from one to the other of them. “At least I think he is. Maybe.” A trembly smile crumpled into tears. “Oh, Tony!” She flung herself at him and buried her nose in his tie. “That poor t-teenager was killed.”
Gordon lifted baseball plate hands. “I haven’t told the police, but the bullet was meant for me.” He grimaced. “I came to give you cart blanche to tear my offices apart in order to find whoever is destroying Gordon Corp. Yesterday I discovered that money is missing.” The man slumped, staring at the pavement.
“Ham isn’t well,” Desi wiped her eyes. “We should find him a place to rest.”
Tony stared at her. All of a sudden it’s long lost cousin Ham? “You’d better tell me water flows uphill, Des, because I’ll believe that before I buy you being related to this lowlife.”
Gordon stiffened. “My personal assistant assures me it is so. He’s brilliant at research. Took him mere minutes this morning to find out where Desiree was staying.”
Desi went pale and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Tony stepped into Gordon’s space, so close they breathed each other’s air. “Invasion of privacy is nothing to brag about. And you’ll excuse me if I need more than the word of a Gordon Corp employee about your relationship to Desiree. You don’t hire the salt of the earth.” His jaw muscles knotted. “One of your truckers shot and killed a member of my squad two days ago. You remember Bill Winston? One of the pet crooks you keep in your kennel? You signed off on his hiring papers. You are: going down for the murder.”
The whites showed around Gordon’s eyes. “Oh, dear Lamb of God, help me.” The man staggered over to the van and collapsed against it, swaying and moaning. “Not my signature. He signs for me. I trusted … Why didn’t my Inner Witness tell me? Why didn’t I know?” The last word stretched out into a howl, like a wounded wolf.
The guy was sick all right, Sick in the head.
“Tony, don’t you get it?” Desi touched his sleeve. “It’s Mayburn.”
“Who?” He kept a corner of his eye on Gordon.
“Ham’s administrative assistant. It’s been him all along. Hope told me Mayburn has a finger on the pulse of everything to do with Ham’s business.”
Eerie warmth breathed over Tony’s skin. Like a crack had opened in the earth and released a puff of smoke from hell.
Desi squeezed his arms. “It makes perfect sense. We both know Ham’s been caught up in Inner Witness. What an opportunity for a ‘brilliant’ employee to step forward and do what he likes with the company.”
Tony looked at the miserable mound of flesh hunched against the vehicle. The guy was guilty of something, and he was going to prove it. No way Gordon didn’t know what his most valued employee was up to. But maybe this Mayburn was the mastermind. The bootlegging operation would take razor-sharp organization. Gordon was so far gone in the cult he didn’t have two thoughts to rub together about anything else.
Tony’s gut did a dive. As much as he hated to admit it, Desi’s conclusion added up. He’d had Gordon so big in his sights that he missed the evil hidden in the man’s shadow. Everyone at the Bureau had, and today another innocent had paid for their tunnel vision. His gaze went to Desiree. A dark splotch on her shirt caught his eye, and his breath hitched. “You’re hurt.”
She looked down and touched the spot. “A pebble of flying glass hit me. Just a scratch, but it did ruin one of the two shirts I have to my name.” She shook her head, dark hair bouncing. “Unimportant.”
Tony touched her hair and gazed past her shoulder to the crime scene. His fingers fisted in the softness.
“Ouch!”
Tony jerked his hand away and jammed it into his pocket. “You couldn’t sit tight and wait until someone could escort you? Did you even call hotel security? What were you thinking? You scared another decade off my life, Des.”
Her chin came up. “I seem to have that gift. So tell me, please, what part of this—” she waved over the area—”is my fault?”
Tony choked on furious words. She was mad at him? “No one said anything about fault, but you need to think before—”
“Now I’m an airhead? You have no idea what I did to satisfy your concept of safety for me. But nothing will ever be enough, will it?” She swiped some of that beautiful mane behind one ear. A turquoise earring gleamed at him. He’d never seen that one before.
He pointed at it. “A guy like Gordon knocks on your door, and you go shopping?” The heads of bystanders and a uniformed officer turned their direction. He lowered his voice. “What am I supposed to think? Would it have been too hard to call the APD and have a squad car take you to my office? You should have been in protective custody until Gordon was rounded up.”
She turned toward the van and nodded at the big man slumped on the pavement with his head in his hands. “Turns out he was pretty dangerous.”
“Whoever fired that fatal shot was.”
Pain and horror filled her eyes.
His mouth filled with apology but he stuffed the words down. She needed to realize once and for all that some mad dog could snuff out her flame and not give it a second thought.
Her nostrils flared. “Seems to me your precious case is solved. Don’t waste time worrying about me. I’m going back to my hotel and booking a flight for home.” She turned and marched away.
Tony strode after her. “Ms. Jacobs!”
She jerked to a halt, spine rigid, head high.
Tony grasped her arm. “I’m detaining you as a material witness. Gordon, too.” Tony motioned to his driver, and the vehicle cruised up. He opened the rear door; Desi glared at him.
“Don’t look at me that way. This one isn’t used for transporting prisoners.” She sniffed and folded herself inside. Tony looked in at the driver. “Take her to the office, make her comfortable in a private room, and don’t—whatever you do—let her out of your sight. I’ll be along with Gordon in a patrol car.”
He watched the vehicle drive away. Desi didn’t look back. Hollow-chested, he turned to Hamilton Gordon. Maybe the man wasn’t behind the bootlegging operation, but he had a lot of questions to answer … and a lot to answer for.
Tony pulled out his cell phone and dialed Ortiz. She answered with a curt hello.
“Your talk with Tank not going well?”
She snorted. “The guy has the vocabulary of an ape and half the IQ. He kept moaning, I’m a dead man.’ I think he means it’d be for real if he talks. We wasted our time. Now Rhoades and I are chugging a gallon of coffee with the precinct captain and going over again what the PD has on Snake Bonney’s bikers. Maybe there are more living dead in the bunch.”
Tony took a step toward Gordon, who was pulling himself to his feet. “Haul Tank back into interrogation and mention the name Chris Mayburn. You may end up with a talking ape. As soon as he spills enough for a warrant, round up a small army and go arrest Mayburn and his friends at Gordon Corp. He’s our miracle worker and no doubt operating under a manufactured identity like the rest of them.”
“And you discovered this how?”
“I’ll tell you at the office. I’m coming in with Hamilton Gordon.”
Ortiz groaned. “Don’t tell me you strayed off the reservation.”
&nb
sp; “Long story Another dead body.” And a wounded relationship with the most fascinating, frustrating woman in the world.
“ … the most annoying, frustrating man in the world!” Desi muttered as she paced the little room. It had a small sofa, even a TV Off, of course. Who could think about watching the idiot box when she needed to throttle somebody? Preferably somebody with dark hair that refused to lie flat and killer brown eyes that could x-ray lead.
Maybe she should conk him over the head and drag him off to a cave in the middle of nowhere. At least they could get to know one another without any bad guys disrupting their lives. Desi stifled a grin at the mental picture of her petite self trying to drag the big lug anywhere.
Sighing, she plopped onto the sofa and looked at the wall clock. She’d been here over an hour. A small table held the nibbled remains of a ham sandwich beside an empty orange soda can. She sent a sideways look toward the closed door. Should she make a break for it? Yeah, right. Dollars to doughnuts that fresh-faced agent who’d driven her here would be lurking in the hall.
Why was she under guard? She hadn’t done anything. Not like the last time she sat alone in a room at an FBI office building. But that was before she and Tony had made a twosome. Now he’d stuck her in this cubicle and hadn’t the courtesy to let her know what was going on.
She got up and resumed pacing. He could be raiding Gordon Corp right now, confronting armed felons masquerading as truck drivers, or throwing out a search grid for a desperate and dangerous Chris Mayburn. A picture zapped across her mind of yawning gun muzzles spurting bullets and a tall figure crumpling. It had happened to Ben. It could—
Stop it!
And he was worried about her. So not fair.
The door opened, and Tony stepped inside, his attention glued to papers in his hand. He left the door open. Mr. Fresh Face in the hallway flashed a smile and wandered off. Maybe she should fix him up with Hope of the Perky Ponytail. They’d make a cute couple.
She cleared her throat and glared at the source of her irritation.
Tony looked up, gaze sober but gentle. “Hey, sweetheart. Everyone treating you right?”
“If by everyone you mean my bodyguard-slash-jailer, yes.” She motioned toward the food on the table.
“Good.” He lowered the papers to his side. “Preliminary report from the mall shooting indicates that either you or Gordon was the target, and the young woman who was killed happened to step in the way. By the time the projectile reached the taxi, where it shattered a window, it had been deflected through her body. Otherwise, one of you.
Desi plunked onto the sofa and ran her hands over her face. “Way to make me feel like two cents.”
“The teenager’s death wasn’t your fault. Gordon’s unhealthy fixation on you put everyone around him at risk. And that’s not your fault either.”
“Then why do I feel like it is?”
“Normal reaction from a caring human being. Maybe it’ll help to know that the shooter’s in custody.”
“That was some fast FBI footwork.”
Tony shook his head. “Not us. The guy wasn’t a pro hitter. Got rattled in the getaway and broke a few traffic laws. The APD chased him on 1-25, but didn’t connect him to the shooting until he pitched the gun out of the car before hitting a light pole. Just another half-witted crook given a new life by this Mayburn character.”
Desi clasped her hands together. “What about Mayburn? With the failed shooting, he’s not just going to sit and wait to be arrested. He—”
Tony held up a hand. “Tank confirmed that Mayburn gave him the new identity and hired him to haul illegal goods. That gave us all we needed to send a team out to round up Mayburn and any of the other suspected truck drivers. I should get a report anytime.”
“You didn’t go with them?”
“Can’t.” He sat down beside her. “I’m on restricted duty until a highbrow committee back in Boston reviews my psych status and the incident reports on the shooting there.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”
“There hasn’t been a whole lot of time for heart-to-hearts.”
Heat crawled up Desi’s face. Little wonder they hadn’t communicated when their one private moment could have benefited from supervision. “We do need to talk.”
“I know.”
She peered up at him.
The corners of his mouth lifted. “Truce?”
“I want a lot more than that.”
“Me, too. But first, I want your help. The Bureau needs you.”
A giddy thrill shot through her. “How’d that miracle happen?”
Tony gave a slight chuckle. “Gordon won’t talk to us without you there. Are you in?”
Desi jumped up. “Lead the way. I have questions for the man myself.”
“Bureau business first.” Tony towered over her, smiling.
“Deal.” She stuck out her hand. He pulled it to his lips and kissed the back. Sparklers ignited in Desi’s middle. She yanked her hand away. “You don’t fight fair, mister.”
He motioned her out of the room. “What’s that old saying? Something about ‘all’s fair’?”
A minute later, they settled at a table in a claustrophobic interview room. Gordon was already there, the scent of expensive cologne mingling with the smell of common sweat.
“Hello, Ham.” Desi nodded to him.
His mottled skin flushed. “I’ve been much trouble to you, my dear, when I intended to be a blessing. My Inner Witness has told me for some time that we are destined to be one.”
A cold finger touched Desi’s spine. How did she respond to the outrageous statement?
“What do you mean by that, Mr. Gordon?” Tony’s voice was steady, but Desi read the storm brewing in the lowered brow.
“Oh, nothing improper, I assure you.” Gordon’s gaze darted from one to the other. “Business. I’m not well, as I’ve said, and I wanted to connect with family. Imagine my delight to discover that my nearest relative is an astute businesswoman I could entrust with my life’s work.”
Desi rubbed her hands on her capris. “Ham, I’m not interested in inheriting your business. I know nothing about the meat packing industry.”
Gordon’s head bobbed. “Quite so. And that would not have been a problem, except now … ” The smile went away. “With no Chris to show you the ropes, I’ll have to delay my retirement and teach you myself.”
“Ham, I—”
Tony motioned her to silence. Desi bit her lip as he leaned toward Gordon. “You’re talking about retiring, not dying.”
Gordon nodded. “I wish to devote myself to the deeper mysteries of the Inner Witness. Reverend Romlin is certain I will find my healing if I remove all distractions from my life.” His gaze was childlike.
Tony opened a file on the table. “Were you aware, Mr. Gordon, that Archer Romlin isn’t the Reverend’s name? In fact—” Tony flipped a page—”his credentials are less impressive than what he’s led his followers to believe.”
“I am aware of my minister’s humble origins. A few adjustments on his resume to gain credibility when he was starting out can be forgiven in light of the greater good. He wanted to set the record straight some time ago, but I urged him to leave matters as they were.”
“So you’re content to follow a liar.”
Gordon’s chins jerked. “He has spoken the truth to me. What he is to others is not my affair. It doesn’t become the great-grandson of one of Al Capone’s enforcers to judge anyone else.” The words rolled from his lips with the rumble of an oncoming train. “Did you tell the whole truth on your application to the FBI, or did you shade your story to help your chances?”
Desi looked at Tony. He stiffened, and pallor crept over the tanned planes of his face. “The people who need to know are aware of everything.”
“You understand my point then.” The chair creaked as Gordon leaned back.
Desi sat frozen. The people who need to know. Didn’t she need to know? So many compart
ments of himself this man hid from her. She’d asked him about his family tree point blank in the cab in DC, and he’d changed the subject to Max’s problems. On purpose. She could see that now. Wasn’t that a lot like lying? Would he ever let her in? Could she even consider settling down with someone who didn’t trust her with the worst as well as the best?
And what business did Hamilton Gordon have telling tales? She glared at him. This distant relation presumed too much. “Mr. Gordon, where’s the secret compound you’re building in the desert? Is Karen Webb there? Her family needs her back.”
His eyes widened.
“That’s right. We know about Sanctuary.”
He wiped his mouth with his palm, like a man brushing away a bad taste. “You refer to my new home west of Albuquerque. Please come for a visit, but I’m afraid you won’t find a woman by that name.” His forehead crinkled. “No, I’m certain I don’t employ a Karen Webb.”
Tony slapped the file shut. “And you had nothing to do with the theft of Anasazi artifacts at the Albuquerque Museum?”
Gordon returned an owlish stare. “Why would you think I did?”
“Because the inside man on the job was one of those dead crooks resurrected by your right-hand man, Chris Mayburn.”
The big man lowered his gaze. “I know nothing about hiring criminals as employees.”
“Gordon.” The word radiated threat. “Go home. You’re not to leave the state or go any farther from town than your private residence. We’ll be speaking to you again. You’re not going to skate scot-free on this.”
The big man flowed out of his seat. “My home and offices are open to your investigators. I’m sure you’ll find evidence to help bring my assistant to justice.” He dipped his head. “If you will excuse me, I need time to commune with the Lamb. This has all been … a shock.” His gaze found Desi, and unease prickled across her skin. “I’m sure my little announcement of our relationship was also—er, disorienting. When you get used to the idea, please come visit me. We have much to discuss.” He nodded to her, then to Tony, and headed for the door.
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