The Negotiator

by Dee Henderson

  “Not as long as I’m a cop.”

  “The two can’t go together?”

  “No child should have to wonder if his mom is coming home from work.”

  “Can you imagine a kid having to deal with two cops for parents?”

  She was grateful he shifted the topic slightly. “It’s not the kid, it’s the parents. Even the most rebellious teen would not be able to dream up what cops would wonder about.”

  “I can just see it—late at night, the kid out with the car, and he’s past curfew. Are you the type who would pace or go look for him?”

  “I’d be calling the car phone, paging him, and checking with his friends. Then I would get serious.”

  He laughed at the image. “You’d make a great mom.”

  “Maybe.”

  He smiled. “You’re comfortable hanging out with me.”

  “Fishing for a compliment?”

  “Just checking. Come on; let’s finish the movie.”

  Kate nodded, appreciating the fact he was closing the conversation for now. She was coming to respect that about him. The things he cared the most about were the topics he was the most careful with. She had seen it when he talked about faith, and he had just shown it again. It was a rare trait for most people—patience. As a negotiator she could deeply appreciate it. While she had learned the skill, she sensed something different with Dave. He had the patience inside him.

  She knew how much he wanted her to believe. It was probably the only thing stopping that date question he skirted around. There had been numerous friends who had never asked her out because of her job, a few who met her family and chose not to ask, but Dave was one of the first to do so because of principle. It said something about his priorities that she admired.

  It was also frustrating her—this was one evening where she would like to be sharing the couch with him rather than have him apparently content sitting in a chair several feet away.

  Kate went no farther than the patio chairs, settled down, and made herself comfortable. The movie was over. She had convinced Dave to go ahead and turn in. She would be up in a while and would set the security grid.

  The stars were bright tonight. She rested her head back, studying them overhead. It had been a day of great emotional swings, and this pause, this solitude was desperately needed.

  She was falling in love with him.

  She was emotionally vulnerable right now. She knew it, and she tried to remind herself of that as she felt her heart softening. Jennifer’s cancer, learning she had a brother.… Other than Jennifer’s engagement, Dave was the only good thing that had happened recently. That’s why his steady support was making a big difference in her life right now.

  But no matter how hard she tried to explain away her emotions, she knew she was denying the truth. She was falling in love with him.

  It was scary. She didn’t want to risk getting her heart mangled again in a relationship that could go nowhere. It wasn’t only the question of faith; she had only to look around Dave’s home to see how different their respective backgrounds were.

  The idea of sharing the depth of her past with anyone, let alone someone she wanted to think well of her, petrified her. And as much as Dave knew, he knew only the tip of what he would eventually learn if it did get serious between them. She poured herself single-mindedly into her job because she knew how risky it would be to open up the rest of her life. Would Dave understand the things that gave her nightmares? The underlying reasons the O’Malleys were so important to her?

  She would love to be able to rest the weight of what was happening on Dave, curl up in the protection he offered, and find a safe haven here. It wasn’t fair to him. She had to consider the reality of her family, his.

  What would his family think of her? She hadn’t met his sister Sara, but Kate knew how close Dave and Sara were. How would Sara feel about having her brother involved with a cop? Sara had seen enough violence in her life already; somehow Kate didn’t think it would be easy for her to have another cop in the family.

  She sighed and forced herself away from it. Love just wasn’t a good idea. Not with the two of them. They were destined to be only friends. And there were other questions she had to decide tonight. She couldn’t afford to think about it.

  She turned her attention away from the emotions that confused her to the reality she had to accept and find a way to live with.

  She had a brother.

  Did she want justice or mercy? It was a hard decision to make, but it was time to make it. Tony Jr. was her brother. She wanted to deny the ties, keep away from the hurt, but she couldn’t any longer.

  The circumstantial evidence strongly suggested he was guilty.

  When he was located, did she want to meet him? He was family. Yet to get to know him in these circumstances would only make the hurt go deeper.

  Did she want to distance herself from the case, from him, or did she want to seek some form of mercy from the courts? Did she owe him that because he was her brother? Did she owe herself that?

  She needed there to be mercy, she had to have justice. Both now strained inside in equal measure. She could feel the paradox that Dave described existed in God—justice and mercy in equal measure. God might be able to create a situation that had both, but she didn’t have that ability.

  She looked at the expanse of stars.

  “Jesus, I’m not sure yet what I believe, but I’m trying to understand. You said You hear and answer prayer. If You do exist, I know You’d understand the struggle I’m facing. You’re bigger than I am. You make decisions I will never understand. If there is a way out of this dilemma, will You show me?”

  Prove he’s innocent.

  It was such a soft reassurance; it was the peace she felt first, then the reality of the words. Yes, that was the only way out of this problem. It would be mercy for Tony and justice for the families.

  Evidence pointed to Tony being guilty. To prove he was innocent… could it be done?

  She pushed out of the chair with new resolve. There was only one way to find out.

  Twenty

  He had called in a bomb warning. If he weren’t already dead, he would have killed him just for that.

  Where were the videotapes? Three hours of looking had led to nothing. He knew they were here somewhere.

  If that call led back to here and they started digging into the past, his perfect alibi would be destroyed. All because that stupid fool had to go and taunt the cop.

  He was glad he was dead. He had made the decision in the spur of the moment. No more than twenty seconds to see the opportunity and take it. He was glad he had taken it. But where were those videotapes?

  He had thoroughly searched the apartment, a long tedious job when he had to make sure everything went back neatly in its place, and the tapes weren’t here. Short of tearing out a wall, there was little else he could do. If the videotapes hadn’t already been destroyed, they had to be tucked somewhere.

  Probably a safe-deposit box…but he had found no key.

  Maybe they were lost forever now.

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  They would make no sense to just anybody glancing at them. They were simply old security tapes after all—over a decade old, and the company that made the machine required to play them didn’t even exist anymore.

  Even if they were found and turned into the cops, they would be of very little use unless someone actually explained where they had been taken and what they captured.

  There was only one other person still alive who knew the videotapes existed and what they meant.

  He could kill him, too.

  He lingered on that thought, considering it, tasting it, evaluating the risk.

  Yes. If he had the chance, he would kill him. Then this conspiracy would be down to one, with no witnesses left. The future he had dreamed about for years was his, and he was not going to let anyone take it from him now.

  Yes. Best to kill him.

  Twenty-one />
  Dave tucked the cordless phone tight against his shoulder as he wrestled on his shoes. Sara’s call had woke him up, and he realized with some dismay that he had slept through his alarm. The house was quiet, and that had him concerned. Jennifer normally slept late, but Kate—if she was out wandering the grounds it wasn’t going to be good.

  “How is Kate doing?”

  “I’m worried about her,” he replied, understating the reality. He was afraid for her, and how she was coping. He was having to stand back and watch the situation tear her apart, and it was killing him. Several times in the last few days he had found her sitting on the back patio, staring off into space, not hearing him join her. For a cop trained to react to her environment it was a disturbing thing to see. About the only thing that drew a smile from her these days was that fat tabby cat, and Dave found it annoying to be jealous of a cat.

  “I have to imagine it will take a while to get over the shock of learning she not only has a brother, but that he’s probably responsible for the bombing.”

  “Shock I could handle. Something else is going on.” What, exactly, was hard to figure out. Kate was ignoring the manhunt to find Tony Jr., something he had expected her to want to be very involved with. She had instead been going back through the files for the last several days with an intensity that had him worried. Dave had no idea what she hoped to find. She wasn’t saying, and his offers to help her had been dismissed with an absentminded thanks but no.

  “Would it help if I came over?”

  He brightened at the idea. “Actually, yes. I would like you to meet her, and it would be a good distraction for an afternoon. And I think you’ll like Jennifer; I’d like you to meet her while she is here.”

  “Why don’t Adam and I join you for lunch after church tomorrow?”

  “That would be wonderful. And I want to hear all about your trip to New York. You didn’t call me nearly often enough.”

  “It was an adventure. I spent too much money. Adam had me walking until I thought I would collapse. Lunch with my editor went well. I’m frankly relieved to be back home.”

  “Shall I plan to put something on the grill? The weather should be nice.”

  “Please. I’ll put together a salad and bring dessert.”

  Dave slipped on his watch as he said good-bye to Sara. He set the phone back on the night table. It would be good having them over; he had missed her the last couple weeks. And he really wanted Sara and Adam to meet Kate.

  He headed downstairs to start breakfast and get himself some coffee. If he didn’t strongly suggest breakfast, Kate tended to bypass the meal. Dave stopped, surprised, and backed up. Kate was in the living room, comfortably slouched in a chair, feet propped up on the coffee table, folders stacked around her on the floor, a notepad in her lap. It looked like she had been there for a considerable amount of time. “Have you been up all night?”

  She looked at her watch and grimaced. “Yes.”

  Diverted from his plans to get coffee, he crossed the room to join her. Unable to resist, he ran his fingers lightly through her hair. “What are you doing?”

  She leaned her head back against his hand. “Now I know why a cat enjoys that so much.”

  Her sleepy smile was adorable, and he wanted to lean down and kiss her, but wisely smiled instead and let his hands slide down to her shoulders and gently squeeze. “You’re punch-drunk tired.”

  “Probably. I’ve got an idea.”

  Curious, he took the seat across from her. “Tell me.”

  “It untangles if you look at the fact Ashcroft wanted to kill Nathan.”

  “Ashcroft is dead.”

  “Ignore that for a moment.”

  Ignore that for a moment. Right.

  The focused grim stress from the last few days had disappeared, and he wasn’t about to say something to bring it back. Realizing he was humoring her, he nevertheless settled down to listen, relieved to have her at least willing to discuss what she had been doing. “Go on.”

  “This was more than a family feud. Ashcroft wanted to kill Nathan because he was the one who turned him in and sent him to prison for ten years. He was bitter and angry and out for revenge. Ashcroft wanted his brother to suffer.

  “Next, look who cut a deal with the DA to provide evidence against Ashcroft. Tony Emerson Sr. So if you buy the fact Ashcroft would go after his brother for writing that letter to the DEA and starting the drug investigation, he would certainly like to go after the man who testified against him. But since Tony Sr. is dead, that leaves Tony Jr. and, through a twist of fate, me.”

  Dave stopped thinking about humoring her and started seeing the connection she was making. It was curious. “Where does that lead?”

  “What if it was Ashcroft blackmailing Tony, not Nathan? Ashcroft might be able to implicate Tony as one of those who had moved drugs for him at O’Hare. So Tony was paying off Ashcroft. It makes more sense than Tony paying off Nathan. That never did feel right.”

  “Then how did the money get into Nathan’s account?”

  “Someone put it there to make Nathan look less than lily-white. I haven’t figured that out entirely, but it’s logical. If Ashcroft hated his brother enough to kill him, he would certainly like to destroy his reputation in the process.”

  “A lot of assumptions.”

  “It’s there and plausible. Ashcroft planned to kill his brother and frame Tony. He was laughing at me when he made that Wednesday call because he could do it and drag me down at the same time.”

  Dave nodded. Someone had gone directly after Kate by using her name in the bomb threat, by sending the black rose, by making the calls. He could see Ashcroft doing that.

  “Tony is being blackmailed, and he’s running out of money. Ashcroft puts the pressure on, blackmails Tony to kill Nathan. Then Tony gets lucky when Nathan decides to take the MetroAir flight and the bomb kills Ashcroft as well.”

  “Tony is still guilty.”

  She tossed her pen across the room.

  Startled, he looked at the pen buried in the dirt of a fern and thought the flash of temper was a pretty healthy sign. Her aim was good, even upset; he’d have to remember that. He looked back at her, seeing the frustration. “It’s a good theory, Kate. It just doesn’t clear Tony.”

  “Well, I hate the current theory.”

  “We watched Ashcroft Young on videotape. He was at the gate terminal reading a newspaper. He could not have planted the bomb. We know from the security tapes that the laptop was checked by security; the bomb was not in the laptop when Nathan arrived at the airport. So even if Ashcroft did plan to have his brother killed, he still had to have help. Tony is still a coconspirator.”

  She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

  “You think he might be innocent?” That realization surprised him. He knew she would like him to be, but the evidence was overwhelming that Tony was involved.

  “I would prefer it.” She sighed and looked over at him. “I want to go to First Union Bank today.”

  He hesitated. “Okay. May I ask why?”

  “We go back to the beginning. I want to know about that foreclosure rate increase. The bank manager might give us a straight answer.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He offered his hand. “The bank opens at 8 A.M. We can have breakfast before we leave.”

  “Good. Jennifer was going to sleep in, but I’d like to be back early.”

  “I’ll leave her a note as to our plans.”

  “Okay.” She walked over to retrieve the pen. “Sorry for throwing stuff.”

  She sounded so sheepish about it that his chest rumbled with laughter when he hugged her. “With that aim, at least I won’t have to wonder if I get hit by accident.”

  The glass doors to the bank had been replaced. The walk across the parking lot to the doors was very much a repeat of the time weeks before, down to the asphalt sticking to her tennis shoes. Staff at the bank looked startled when they walked in and were recognized. T
he bank manager came to meet them, his smile profuse. “Thank you for what you did that day.”

  Kate remembered him. He had done pretty well for the pressure he had been under. She smiled in return, liking him. “You’re welcome, Mr. Tanner. I was wondering, could you answer a couple of questions for us?”

  “I would be glad to. Please, come into my office; have a seat.”

  Looking around the bank, the evidence of what had happened had been erased. Kate followed him to his office and took a seat.

  “We noticed the mortgage foreclosure rate was unusually high this year, like Nathan was raising cash. Would you have any idea why?” Dave asked.

  “Actually, I would say it’s more like Peter Devlon was the one raising cash. If someone with a loan problem could get past Peter to see Nathan Young and have a reasonable case, the loan would be extended. I was getting faxes from him all the time directing action to be delayed on certain loans.”

  Dave glanced at his notes. “Was there any such arrangement for Wilshire Construction? I understand Tony had a meeting with Nathan, and the notes were e-mailed here.”

  “Let me check the business loan files.” The manager moved to the file cabinets and came back a few minutes later with a thick blue file. “Yes, here are the meeting notes.” He scanned them, then frowned. “They are from Peter Devlon in regards to the meeting, basically say no change is to be made, and to proceed with terminating the line of credit.” He set aside the page, looked at the next one, and smiled. “Here’s what you are looking for. Nathan faxed this to us shortly after the meeting. Tony asked for a ninety-day extension so he could complete the Bedford site, and he was willing to put up his home as collateral. Nathan said to accept the offer.”

  “Such a dichotomy in instructions was common?”

  He waffled his hand in the air as he smiled. “There were meetings, and there were meetings. Peter is very much by the book, and Nathan didn’t like to meddle in what were day-to-day decisions. Since Nathan married, the banks had become more and more Peter’s to run. But on the side, when it wouldn’t rock the boat—yes, this was common.”