Hot Pursuit- the Complete Collection

by Liza Mitchell

  Grant was right. Norm had concocted his perfect scenario—either the cops were too stupid to find him and they all watched innocent people die, or the cops did find him and he got Kate… and probably still killed his victims.

  She flipped through reports and photographs until she came across a picture she recognized. The state forest. She and Norm had hiked through the woods dozens of times. Always on the same path along the ridge—it had a beautiful view of a valley. They sometimes went at sunset to watch the sky change from orange to purple to a deep midnight blue.

  She remembered the look on the officers’ faces when she’d told them her story. Her husband, picking her up from her office job, taking her for a hike in her work clothes, still wearing her heels. She sat in the office with dirt on her arms and legs, bruises blooming on her face from the struggle, and they just stared like she was the dumbest person they’d ever met.

  But they didn’t know her. And they didn’t know Norm.

  By the time Norm tried to kill her, she would have done anything for him. He’d spent so much time grooming her that she didn’t realize she was his little frog in a boiling pot of water until his hands were closing around her throat. He’d been so kind, so sweet, so caring for so long that when caring turning into control, she barely recognized it.

  She’d complain to friends, but in the way everyone complains about their spouse. He’d warped her reality so thoroughly, she couldn’t hear their concerns or warnings. He’d never been violent with her—he’d never needed to—she’d never questioned him. She didn’t think twice when he sold their second car because of money troubles. Or when he told her that they were only spending cash, and he did all of the banking, giving her money each week. Or when he put a tracking app on her phone—she was walking to and from work most days. She trusted him.

  By the time his hands were tightening around her neck and he was shoving her off the path, she was completely dependent on him, her provider, and she’d started to object to missing nights out with her friends, or getting locked out of their bank’s website, or having him scold her for buying name brand peanut butter instead of the cheaper store brand alternative.

  That’s when she’d worn out her welcome, and he’d decided to cash in on her life insurance. Just as he had with his previous two wives.

  He started taking her hiking after work. They’d always gone on weekend afternoons, but their evening hikes only started a month or two before her attack. Sometimes he gave her warning, and she’d bring a change of clothes to work with her. Sometimes he didn’t, and she’d go in her work clothes.

  Didn’t you think that was odd? The officer asked her, an unsaid ‘dumbass’ hanging in the air. No, she didn’t. It was her old Norm, spontaneous and loving, taking her on a sunset picnic because he wanted to treat her.

  Every officer she’d met looked at her with those incredulous looks. ‘How could she have not known? He had two dead previous wives. Who puts themselves in that situation?’ Clearly, they had never taken Psychology 101.

  Every single person walked into that room with the same narrowed eyes, until Detective DeWitt. He never once doubted her. And when the District Attorney at the time wanted her to go back to him, to wear a wire and gather more evidence, Grant had been on her side.

  You’ll be safe. He can’t collect the money now, and we’ll be two blocks away. But no one knew Norm like she did. The money didn’t matter anymore. She’d beaten him. It was about proving he was smarter, stronger.

  That human resources member who’d ignored his pleas about late timecards? He was fired for watching porn at work. Norm always won. And she wasn’t about to give him another chance.

  We don’t have a case. We need you to do this—as if the pictures of her injuries and the two-million-dollar life insurance policy weren’t enough for the DA.

  If you don’t, we could charge you with any number of crimes in connection with his first two wives. Accessory after the fact. Failure to report a crime. They couldn’t prove those either. But that’s when Kate knew that the DA didn’t care about her. He didn’t give a shit about giving her justice or keeping her safe. That’s when she claimed spousal privilege and just disappeared… with Grant’s help.

  She’d kept an eye on that DA. Of course, he’d moved on, gotten a promotion. And the prosecutor of her case was now Lakeside’s District Attorney. A man she’d never met but who Grant swore was a good person. But here she was, in the exact same fucking position as she’d been years before.

  “Grant,” she said, flipping past all of her crime scene photos—the real event was seared in her mind, why was she choosing to relive it? “He has so many pictures of you. Do you think he knows about us? You said there were rumors.”

  “No. There’s no way.”

  “But he could have seen you buying one of your phones, figured it out. And if he followed you for years without you knowing, then…”

  “I always assumed that he kept track of me. I never thought he actually did or would, but I had to act as if he was, to keep you safe. If I got comfortable or sloppy, that would have put you in danger. We both knew he would keep looking for you. Every year he didn’t get a new wife, we both knew that was because he still wasn’t done with you.”

  “So who wants me to be the bait? You? The new DA? Whatever detective is on the case?”

  “It’s just me asking, Kate. We can end this. You can end this. Then you can come back.”

  “There’s nothing for me back there,” she whispered.

  “Yes. There is.” He leaned forward, inching toward her, closing the space between them. But Grant stopped, hitting an invisible wall.

  Keep coming. It didn’t matter how hard she wished for it. His affection in the kitchen was gone. He was back to being aloof. He had a knack for leaving things unsaid.

  “How could I possibly know that?” she asked.

  “Kate. Let’s finish what’s in front of us.” He leaned back, creating a valley between them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ______________

  GRANT

  She quietly flipped through page after page in front of her. All he wanted to do was reach out and hold her—that’s all he’d wanted to do for years.

  When he’d helped her go into hiding, he was sure it would be for weeks, months, maybe. Never years. He’d spent years wondering what her moans would sound like, what she would taste like, but he wasn’t going to take her while they were looking over their shoulders.

  Kate finally reached the current crime scene photos and her fingers slowed down. She moved through them a little more deliberately. Her pupils scanned the images before moving on to the next one.

  “I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Think. Did he own any property or businesses before he knew you? Or did he talk about buying any property?”

  “Who knows what Norm did with his money. Our bank account was always empty, but he was somehow always buying things and stashing them away in his storage unit or facility or whatever. What about the settlements from his previous wives’ deaths? Where did they go? He’s too smart to hold people somewhere with his name on the deed. Plus, this looks abandoned.” She pointed to a still shot of one of the jurors in Norm’s prison.

  “He’s smart. He wouldn’t risk spending this much time in an abandoned building.”

  “Or,” Kate countered, “he found an abandoned building that was secluded enough that no one would notice his comings and goings. Even if he owned a run-down property, it would need to be secluded to have enough privacy to hold a dozen people captive.”

  “Did he ever talk about cottages on the beach or anything like that?” Grant asked.

  “No, the only thing he had was a storage facility he insisted would make us rich. But as far as I know, all he did with that space was stash everything he bought that he didn’t want me to know about.

  “Why would I know more about his property ownership than them? Why is this my responsibil
ity? Wouldn’t the police have access to this information? ” Her voice slowly rose and began to shake. He hated putting her in this position. She just wanted to be free of Norm and he knew he was just dragging her back. But he didn’t have a choice. And he wasn’t giving her much of a choice.

  “This couldn’t be a cottage. Look at these rooms, they’re uniform. Like a school. But no classrooms are that small. So a hotel? Or a motel? Have they looked into those?”

  “Kate, your brain was completely wasted at whatever mindless clerical job you used to have,” Grant said as he pulled out his phone and dialed Dawson.

  “Fuck you, I liked my job,” she threw back at him before looking down at the pictures again and adding, “and one becomes really perceptive when their life depends on it.”

  Her fight made his blood absolutely race. That was the first thing he’d noticed about her. While the rest of his colleagues were busy whispering behind her back, he saw a caged tiger ready to fight for her life. And he didn’t blame her for a moment when she wasn’t willing to play dead for the prosecution.

  “What did she have, Grant?” Dawson asked the second the call connected.

  “Nothing definite yet. But look into abandoned motels, hotels, hospitals, maybe. Anything else with uniform rooms.”

  “On it.”

  “Any word on the other jurors?” Grant asked.

  “We’ve found three and gotten them into protective custody. There’s only one more that we can’t locate.”

  “Awesome. We’ll keep you posted.”

  “Hey, you know, you two can’t stay there. You need to come back here. She needs to be in protective custody too.”

  Grant glanced at Kate. “That’s going to be a tough sell. She doesn’t trust law enforcement.”

  “Sure don’t,” Kate said without looking up.

  “Because one DA was a dickhead?” Dawson asked.

  “It runs deeper than that,” Grant answered. “I’ll keep her safe.”

  “Listen. A friend of the family has a hunting cabin. Give me a secure number. I’ll send you the information from one of my aid’s phones. At least consider going there. You don’t know if you’ve been followed. Sloane hasn’t seen him on her feed all day.”

  “I wasn’t followed,” he ground out. For fuck’s sake, moving people covertly was his job.

  “Just do it for her.”

  Grant recited Kate’s number into the phone before he disconnected, without giving Dawson another chance to try to expose his weakness, though clearly it wasn’t very well hidden.

  “Pack a bag,” he told Kate as he stood up and started to collect discarded papers off the coffee table. “Now,” he barked, reaching for the papers in her lap.

  She slapped his hand away. “I’m not done. Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “You can look at them in the car.”

  “It’s pitch black outside. No, I can’t. And I never said that I’m getting in the car with you.”

  “Yes, you are. I’m not asking.” He turned around and left her on the couch, walking down the short hallway in her small apartment.

  “That’s not the way out!” she called after him.

  He ignored her and pushed opened two doors until he found her bedroom. The rest of her apartment was bland, empty, unlived in, fucking depressing, like she could walk away at any second with no regrets. Her bedroom was the exact opposite.

  It was a cluttered explosion of color.

  Rich purple and blue curtains covered the windows and unnaturally bright photographs of landscapes peppered the walls. Opposite the bed hung a massive image of a sunset over the mountains. The picture was framed in curtains matching the ones over the windows, making it feel as if he might have just escaped into a desert mountain oasis.

  Stacks of books littered the floor, the dresser was outfitted with a coffee maker, and he even saw a mini fridge hidden in the corner. It was like Kate lived in a fucking dorm room in her own apartment. This would not fly in their home.

  Their home?

  They needed to get through this shit first. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes and tell her he wanted her, and he was thinking about their fucking home. She was already in too much danger without him multiplying it.

  Grant picked up a backpack off the floor and made his way over to the dresser, opening the top left drawer.

  Panties. He grinned mischievously, the heaviness of the moment briefly forgotten. His fingers hovered above the drawer like a teenage boy discovering the lace strips of fabric for the first time.

  “What are you doing?” Kate yelled from the doorway.

  He looked over his shoulder, grin still stretching across his mouth. “Packing your bag.” The doorframe caught his eye and his face fell. “What the fuck kind of contractor build your apartment?” he asked, walking over to her and examining the botched construction.

  The interior door doorframe was actually made up of two by fours and hung over the edge of the wall by a few inches. A drunken man must have put this door together.

  He looked up at Kate and said, “Seriously, what else has your landlord done to your apartment? Because he has no business being around power tools at all.” That’s when he noticed that she was leaning against the bedroom door in the hallway… with a shit-eating grin. “Wait. And what the fuck, no general contractor would have a door open into a hallway. And is this a fucking exterior door with a deadbolt? Kate, I have to see what else they did to this place,” he said, trying to move past her.

  “Grant, I did this all.”

  “What? Clearly, you should not be allowed anywhere near a Home Depot. This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. What does your landlord think? There’s a fucking metal door in the middle of your hallway!”

  “Well, first, I haven’t seen anyone from management since the day I signed the lease, and I care more about my peace of my mind than pissing them off. Think, Grant. I’ve made my bedroom into a bunker. Well, the best I can.

  “I read that the easiest way to break a door is to kick it in—so I reinforced the doorframe. And deadbolts, they don’t really stop anyone who wants to get in, but it would buy me time to get out. Look.” Kate grabbed a tablet off her bed and opened an app. “Every window is nailed shut, and there’s the security system on all of the entry points. But none of this stops him, it just gives me time to get away.

  “So the ugly-ass door frame and aluminum door just makes it so that I can actually sleep at night or enjoy a TV show on the weekend.”

  She was right. Completely right. And she’d thought of ways to protect herself that Grant never had.

  When he would put people in witness protection, his job was to make them invisible. Once they disappeared, everyone operated under the assumption that they were safe. Not Kate. She still lived in fear.

  She didn’t deserve this life.

  He didn’t want to help Dawson find McIntyre anymore. He wanted to find that piece of shit and tear him limb from limb. Kill him slowly, make him feel just an ounce of what Kate had. But Grant was a Good Guy, and Good Guys play by the rules, don’t they?

  “I’m going to get you out of here. Pack a bag. You’re never going to spend a night like that again.”

  He handed Kate the backpack he’d picked up and took another look around her bedroom. Her haven. The coffee maker, mini fridge, hoard of snacks, it all made sense. The rest of the apartment was sterile and bare because she didn’t live there. She lived here.

  She emerged from the bathroom with a toothbrush and a small cloth bag, and Grant couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank fuck your apartment had a master suite. Otherwise, I’m sure you’d have a bed pan hidden somewhere in this rat’s nest.”

  “Hey.” She pointed a finger at him and scowled. “I know where everything is. This is my home. Mine. It gets to be as messy as I want. And there’s a difference between clutter and dirt, so shut it.”

  “You’d have to empty it out of the window like you lived in the tenements at the turn of the century. Could yo
u imagine nailing some poor passerby on their way to work at five a.m. with a gallon of your morning piss?”

  “That would be kind of impossible,” Kate said opening one of her heavy curtains, revealing a large piece of plywood covering the entire window.

  “Does the other window look like that too?” Grant asked, crossing the room, tearing back the curtains. “Kate,” he said, his heart falling. But before despair for her life of solitude in this cell could settle in, rage swept through his body. “Kate,” he barked. “Get your shit. We’re going to that cabin. We’re going to figure out where that fucker is, and we’re going to get him. I don’t care if I have to chain myself to a goddamn tree under a neon sign. I’m going to catch him, and you’re never going to spend another night inside these four walls again. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do! I don’t have anywhere else to go other than these four walls, no matter where Norm is. I don’t understand why you're upset about how I’ve chosen to live.”

  “It wasn’t your choice,” he ground out. “We’re leaving, now.”

  “You didn’t leave me much of a choice. And even now, you aren’t giving me one.”

  He was truly seeing red. Monthly calls with Kate had never truly exposed the prison she lived in. If he’d ever come to see her, if he’d ever reached out, he would have known what her reality actually was. And he would have never allowed it. Instead, he’d stayed away, for her safety. They both knew there was a certain amount of bullshit in that statement. Why had he stayed away? He wanted her. What was stopping him? Professionalism? Nothing had been professional between them since the moment they’d met.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ______________

  KATE

  They traveled in silence for the longest time. Grant seemed to spend more time watching his mirrors and the road behind him than the road in front of him, obsessively checking for someone tailing them. It was completely maddening. Everything he did was maddening.