by Lauren Carr
It was a witness statement from Yvonne Harding. The details of her interview with Audra Walker read the same as those in the assistant’s statement. Of course, Sergeant Roberts wanted to know Yvonne’s alibi for after Audra Walker had left the studio. After all, the text luring Audra back to ZNC had allegedly come from her.
Yvonne claimed that she left the studio shortly after eight o’clock and went home to her condo in midtown Manhattan, which was within walking distance of the studio. However, she took a cab. Sergeant Roberts had tracked down the driver, who confirmed he’d driven the famous news journalist home that night.
Yvonne was home alone in her condo until approximately ten thirty, at which point Ryan Ritter stopped by sporting a fifty-year-old bottle of scotch he’d received as a gift from the guest on his show that night.
Aware of Dallas watching him, David skimmed the details, which, in a nutshell, said that Yvonne had an airtight alibi for not sending the text to Audra Walker or killing her. She had spent the whole night with Ryan Ritter.
Dallas’ low, throaty voice broke through his thoughts. “Yvonne’s alibi for Mom’s disappearance is Ryan Ritter. Did you know they were sleeping together?”
“Didn’t you say earlier that you suspected they had had a fling?” Laying down the report, David saw that she was so close to him that he could see that the outer rims of her brown eyes were green. He felt the heat of her shoulder pressed against his.
“It was just a suspicion. I guess this proves I was right, huh?” She rested her hand on his wrist. “Are you jealous? I mean, she didn’t know you two were married, and—”
“Not really.” He dared to turn his head and found her head close to his. “Surprised. I knew Yvonne wasn’t celibate after we ended it, but I wasn’t expecting her to be sleeping with Ryan Ritter.”
One of her feet dropped down from where she’d been waving it up at the head of the bed, and it landed between his bare legs and feet. “You certainly weren’t.” Her mouth was close to his. “Celibate, I mean.”
“Stay on point,” he told her, aware of her foot rubbing up and down the inside of his calf. “Yvonne said in her statement that Ritter brought over a bottle of fifty-year-old scotch. Knowing Yvonne the way I did, that doesn’t make sense. She didn’t drink scotch—or at least when she did, she passed out. Yvonne and hard liquor did not mix well. After one drink, she’d be drunk. I mean, not-able-to-drive drunk. She wouldn’t have shared a bottle of scotch with Ryan Ritter.”
“The statement doesn’t say how much she had to drink,” Dallas said. “It only says Ryan brought over a bottle, and they shared it. From what she said in the statement, maybe she poured a drink but didn’t drink it, and then they spent the night together.” She brought her lips close to his. “You should be happy. She has an alibi. She didn’t kill my mother.”
“Something doesn’t seem right about that statement,” he said. “My gut tells me it’s not right.”
“Are you sure that feeling in your gut isn’t jealousy over Ryan Ritter?” Dallas rolled over onto her side. “How many years had it been since you two were together? For all you know, she built up a tolerance for the hard stuff.” She reached over to slip her hand inside the robe.
“Maybe,” David murmured with a deep sigh. “That has been known to happen … just … Yvonne said in her statement that she didn’t text your mother. Someone else using her name sent it from a burner phone.”
“Or so she says,” Dallas replied.
“Said.” Struck by guilt, David pulled away from her and sat up. “She’s dead—murdered—or have you forgotten?”
She pressed up against his back and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re the one saying Yvonne’s whole statement doesn’t make sense simply because she didn’t drink scotch. She didn’t give the police a blow-by-blow, but it does say Ritter was the one who brought it over because the guest on his show gave it to him. What’s the biggie?”
Leaning back against her, David said, “I don’t know.”
Holding him close, she said, “But we will know, and we’ll find out together, because like it or not, I’m in this with you for the long haul.”
He allowed her to slip the robe off his shoulders.
She brought her lips to his. “Whether you like it or not, no matter what happens, even if you do marry Chelsea a couple of days from now, I’ll always be with you. Even if I can’t have you, I’m always goin’ to have your back—because, darlin’, I’m in love with you.”
He took her into his arms. “I have a feeling I’m falling in love with you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What do you mean, you don’t have access to the crime scene?” the Manhattan police captain said to the chief detective, the half dozen homicide detectives, and the group of uniformed officers. They were all waiting outside the apartment building where Abigail Gibbons, an investigator with internal affairs, had fallen to her death from her tenth-floor apartment.
“Feds trump New York City metro.” Lieutenant Andrew Van Patton, a middle-aged career detective in an ill-fitting, crumpled suit, tossed his head in the direction of the fleet of federal vehicles and the crime-scene investigators with “FBI” written in block letters across the backs of their jackets.
“Who called them in?” the captain asked.
“The governor.”
The captain’s eyes grew wide. “Who called the governor, and why did he call in the feds?”
“I think one of the guys Gibbons almost landed on top of made the call before any of us got here. Obviously, they’re friends.”
“Where’s this friend of the governor?” the captain asked.
“Upstairs,” Van Patton said, jerking his chin in the direction of the high-rise. “They allowed him in.”
With a growl, the captain ordered the lieutenant to accompany him inside, but two federal agents blocked their entrance. The captain was only further annoyed when he was made to wait while one of the officers called upstairs to the investigating officer, who told the captain he had to wait while the special agent in charge came down to meet him.
“Are you serious?” the captain yelled. “This is my city.” He ripped his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling the commissioner.”
“If you wait, you can talk to him in a couple of minutes, sir,” the agent told him.
The captain stopped with his mouth hanging open.
“He’s coming down with Special Agent Sid Delaney,” the officer said. “He’s anxious to talk to you.”
The captain turned to the lieutenant, whose face had grown pale. “What … did … your … people … do?”
With her long, slender legs and arms, Dallas reminded David of a colt curled up asleep on the bed. Her thick, dark mane was splayed out across what had been his pillow.
“I love you, David!” Chelsea’s had said tearfully. “You said you loved me! How could you break my heart like that?”
He was remembering the night of the Valentine’s Day dance. It was senior year. Her confrontation had hit him like an ambush and had been just as painful. She confronted him with his own betrayal when he returned with his buddies to the gym where the dance was being held. He had left her alone for fewer than five minutes.
A lot can happen in five minutes.
David didn’t need a blow-by-blow. The smirk on Katrina’s face said it all. Seducing the always-loyal David O’Callaghan wouldn’t really prove the power of her seduction skills if she kept it a secret.
Trying to avoid both women, David turned away and ended up face to face with Seth Blanchard, Chelsea’s friend. The slightly chubby science geek always seemed to be around, even though he’d been delegated to the outskirts of their crowd. A highly respected surgeon, his mother was chief of staff at the hospital in Oakland. His family’s wealth and social position should have made Seth a natural member of the in crowd around Deep Creek Lak
e. However, his mother’s reluctance to indulge her son and her insistence on teaching him a healthy work ethic by making him earn his toys kept him out of the fast crowd.
Seth Blanchard was Chelsea’s friend. David didn’t need to be a detective to figure out that he wanted more. The expression on Seth’s face confirmed his suspicion. With narrowed eyes, Seth looked at David as if he’d just kicked his beloved puppy in the ribs.
“Do you love her?” Chelsea tearfully asked David the next morning after he’d finally convinced her mother to allow him to see her.
“No,” he said instantly
It was the truth. Never for a second had he ever thought he loved Katrina. His betrayal had been caused by a purely physical desire to be with the sexy girl with a reputation for knowing exactly how to fulfill adolescent fantasies.
From across the room, David looked over to the bed, where Dallas was sleeping. The light from the street outside spilled in through the break in the curtains, casting her in a golden glow.
This betrayal was completely different. His desire to be with Dallas was nothing like his desire to be with Katrina had been. His experiences with women and love and life had molded him into a man completely different from the one he’d been when Katrina had seduced him.
Even so, although this time was different, it was still a betrayal of someone he loved all the same. David closed his eyes. What am I going to do?
He heard multiple car doors slam shut. His eyes sprung open. On the street down below, three men were meeting with another man who had just walked out of the Plaza’s main entrance. Even from his perch several floors above them, David recognized the thick padding under the three men’s jackets as ballistics vests and weapons.
The other guy must have been the chief of hotel security.
David sprung from the window to shake Dallas awake. “Get dressed. We need to get moving. Now!”
To his surprise, she was instantly awake and grabbing her clothes. “What’s going on?”
“Cops incoming,” David said. “Three of them. I saw them meeting with a suit—looks like he could be hotel security.”
Seeing that he was already fully dressed, she asked, “Have you slept at all?”
He shrugged into his jacket and grabbed his hat. “There’ll be plenty of time to sleep when we get home.”
She threw the poncho on over her head. David was surprised by how quickly she had managed to find and put on her clothes. In his experience, only active-military types were able to move that quickly after being awakened from a sound sleep.
“Maybe it has nothing to do with us.”
“We can’t take that chance.” David handed her the spare gun he’d taken from one of the police officers he’d shot. “Tuck this into your waistband. Don’t leave anything behind—especially the case file.”
She was already tucking it into the secret compartment in her bag and slinging the bag over her shoulder. After grabbing the gun from him, she stood up and reached behind her back to tuck it into her waistband. To her surprise, she saw that while she’d been asleep, David had combined their belongings into only two shopping bags. They’d had six shopping bags when they’d checked in. “Where are the other bags?”
“I shredded them up, took them down three floors, and buried them in a trash can,” he said. “But I kept the receipts. They’re in your secret hiding place in your bag. Don’t want anyone to find them and trace them to your credit cards.”
“You really have been busy.” She took in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
After grabbing her by the shoulders, David kissed her fully on the lips. “I love you, Dallas.”
“I know.” A broad grin crossed her face. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.” She showed him the gun she had hidden under the poncho.
“Hold on to the back of my jacket, and don’t let go. It’s going to be hard in those high heels, but you need to keep up.”
“You’d be surprised how fast I can run in high heels.” She snatched the bag out of his hand, rolled it up as tightly as she could, and shoved it into her shoulder bag. It stuck out a bit, but even so, it freed David’s hand.
He put the fedora on his head and was careful to lower the rim to conceal the top half of his face. “Do exactly as I say,” he told her while leading her to the door. He held his weapon out of sight behind his back. “We’re going to take the rear stairwell and try to go out through the service entrance.”
He opened the door a crack. After making sure the hallway was clear in both directions, he gestured for her to follow him. Together, they scurried down the corridor, away from the main elevators. They had made it almost to the end of the corridor, where the hallway broke into a T, when they heard the elevators open down at the other end. Stepping up the pace, David yanked her around the corner, and they ran for the stairwell. At the door, David halted and gestured with his finger to his lips, indicating that she should be quiet, while he eased the door open. No need to slam it so that guests in nearby rooms would hear it.
Once in the stairwell, they ran down the stairs, one flight after another. David would often take two steps at a time.
“How do you think they tracked us down?” she asked in a loud whisper.
“I must have missed a security camera while wandering around and looking for the room,” David said. “I thought the hat covered my face, but a camera must have caught me.”
Remembering the woman in the elevator, Dallas let out a loud gasp. “Or maybe that lady—”
Her gasp was abrupt enough to make David stop and turn around. “What lady?”
Dallas was breathing hard. “There was a woman in the elevator. She recognized me.”
“What woman? What elevator?” David’s heart raced with panic. “When we first got here? That was hours ago, Dallas! They probably have the hotel surrounded by a whole SWAT team complete with snipers! Why didn’t you tell me?” When she reached for him, he pushed her away.
“She called me Dallas,” she said. “The news says they’re looking for Ali Hudson. They don’t know that I’m Dallas.”
“But this woman does,” David said. “If she saw your face on the news and figured out that the police think you’re Ali Hudson, she could have called them to tell them that you’re really Dallas Walker and that you’re staying here at the Plaza.”
Slowly, Dallas shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said through tears. “She was a friend of Mom’s.”
“Friends turn friends in to the cops all the time,” David hissed. “The police are offering rewards for information leading to our capture. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I thought you were smarter than that.”
Upstairs, they heard a door open. Grabbing her roughly by the arm, David charged down the stairs, dragging her behind him. He was so angry that he didn’t care anymore about being gentle with her. He only wanted to get out of the hotel and as far away from New York as he could possibly get. At that point, he would have considered it a miracle if they were able to make it to the street.
Upon reaching the street level, David stopped. Exhausted, Dallas was clinging to his arm. Holding his finger to his lips for her to be quiet, he cracked open the door and looked out both ways. The alley was dimly lit, with only one streetlight casting the whole alley in shadows. A trash bin blocked David’s view of the back of the alley. The opposite direction, which would lead them toward Central Park, was clear.
“Stay behind me,” David whispered before leading her out of the stairwell.
They had only made it a few steps before the whole alley exploded into bright spotlights.
“Hold it right there, O’Callaghan!”
Two men silhouetted by the stoplights stepped toward them, aiming rifles at them.
Instantly, David’s hands went up. Spreading his fingers wide, he took his finger off the trigger.
Holding up her hands, D
allas stepped forward to stand next to him. Her body shook with sobs. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s okay, baby,” David said. “You made a mistake. We all do.” Moving slowly, he dropped his gun down to the ground in front of him.
“Hands behind your head!” said the voice that David then recognized.
As he lowered his hands down to clasp his fingers behind his head, David saw Lieutenant Wayne Hopkins sauntering up the alley from behind a black unmarked cruiser. He had his service weapon aimed directly at him. “You know the drill, O’Callaghan. Get down on your knees.”
Wordlessly, David lowered himself down onto his knees and crossed his ankles.
“Get his backup weapon,” one of the officers who was still cast in silhouette said to someone behind David and Dallas.
While David had been watching Hopkins, Dallas had been following the same instructions they had given to him.
David felt someone pat down his lower legs until he located his ankle holster and took the small semiautomatic, which he handed to Lieutenant Hopkins. He then moved on to search Dallas. Instantly, he found the gun she’d tucked into the waistband of her pants and the ankle holster she’d taken from the downed officer.
“You know your mistake, O’Callaghan,” the police lieutenant said while pocketing David’s gun.
Keeping his eyes down on the ground in front of him, David said nothing.
“Being a hero,” Hopkins said. “We had no interest in you or Faraday. It would have been so easy to set you and Faraday up to take the fall for your wife’s murder, but no. I planted the gloves to let Rubenstein take the fall—you and Faraday were free to go. If you had just left well enough alone and let my guys pick up Hudson here to tie up a few loose ends, you would have been home in Maryland by now.”
David glanced over at Dallas, who was looking back at him with tears in her eyes.
Hudson. He called her Hudson. If the woman in the elevator had turned us in, Hopkins would have known she was Dallas Walker. This wasn’t Dallas’ fault. Wordlessly, he tried to tell her with his eyes that he was sorry.
