by Karen Rose
Luke forced his fear back. The cops were still glaring at them and Susannah still wore one of their handcuffs on her right wrist. She’d shot into a crowd. He glanced at the gun on the stage and knew exactly where it had come from. Leo. There would be trouble over this, but he’d deal with it later. Now he focused on Susannah. Her face was ashen, her eyes overly bright. She was shaking. She was in pain. In shock.
And the cameras continued to flash. He needed to get her out of here. “Can you stand up?”
She nodded grimly. “Yes.” She turned as he lifted her to her feet, staring at the medics who were securing Gretchen French to the gurney. “How bad is she?”
“She wasn’t wearing a vest,” Luke said. “But she’s conscious and that’s good.” He looked at the cop, who regarded him through narrowed eyes, ignoring the glare and focusing on the man’s nameplate. “Officer Swift. I’m taking her out of here. Please take your cuffs off her wrist, right here where the cameras can see you do it. I’m taking over this shooting.”
Susannah held out her wrist and Swift unlocked the handcuffs. “It was self-defense,” she said quietly. “I was shot first.”
Officer Swift glanced briefly at the hole in Susannah’s sweater. “You shot into a crowd of innocent people, Miss Vartanian.”
“And if I hadn’t, I’d be dead.” Twin slashes of crimson stood out against her pale face. She was furious, but her voice remained in control.
Swift’s jaw tightened. “I’ll be writing this all in my report and making sure my chain of command is copied.”
“Be sure to copy me, too.” Luke scooped both her gun and her purse from the floor, then took her arm in a gesture of support rather than control. “Walk with me,” he murmured. “We’re going down these steps and out the back door.”
“Where are the other women?” she asked, her voice now trembling.
“Talia hustled them out the back. They’re all safe.” He walked her through the back door and closed it behind them. The noise level immediately dropped.
Her shoulders relaxed a hair. “It’s quiet,” she breathed. “I can hear myself thi—”
“Stop. Police.” The shout came from around the corner. It was followed by two shots, then more shouting. Through it, Luke heard the chilling words officer down.
Chase. Luke pulled the radio from his belt. “This is Special Agent Papadopoulos. Agent Wharton, what’s your status?” There was no reply and his heart started to race again. “Chase, what’s your position?”
Two more shots cracked from the radio. Then Chase’s voice came through and Luke’s shoulders slumped in relief. “We have an APD officer down. Suspect escaped.”
She got away. Again. Goddammit. “I’m coming toward you.” Luke led a pale Susannah around the corner and down another hall and met Chase coming through a door from the outside. He was still talking into his radio, his expression murderous. Off to the side sat a uniformed cop, white-faced, clutching his thigh, his hands covered in his own blood. Another officer had started emergency first aid.
On the floor by the rear door was a black trench coat.
“It was Bobby,” Chase said. “She fired at the cop, then ran. She had a car waiting for her. We’re in pursuit.” His gaze narrowed on Susannah’s sweater. “You’re hit.”
“So was Bobby,” she said, her jaw clenched. “I got her right arm just before she shot at me again. That’s the coat she was wearing.”
“Well, she shot with her left hand without much of a problem. Her first two shots hit the cop on his vest, her third, his thigh. I’ve got medics on the way. The officer fired twice, but she was already through the door.”
“You fired at the car?” Luke asked, and Chase’s brows crunched.
“Yeah. Missed. The car was weaving like a stunt driver.”
Luke pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and snapped them on, crouching next to the coat. “Three holes in the pocket,” he said. “She fired all those shots from inside her pocket.” He looked up, met Susannah’s eyes. “One hole in the sleeve. Lots of blood.”
“She’s wounded,” Chase said. “She can’t go to a hospital. Where will she go?”
“Not back to her house on the river or her house in Dutton,” Luke said. “Susannah?”
“I don’t know who she’d trust to help her now. Did you see who was driving the car?”
Chase’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t get a good look.” Then he sighed heavily. “Bobby was wearing a GBI jacket.”
Luke’s stomach turned over as he stood. “Your leak. Bobby has an accomplice.”
“You have a leak?” Susannah asked quietly.
“Yes,” Chase said heavily.
“You did get a good look at the driver,” Luke said, even more quietly.
Chase shook his head. “No, but I recognized the car. It was Leigh’s.”
“Leigh? Leigh Smithson? Her car was stolen?” Then he saw Chase’s face and understood. “Shit. Leigh’s the leak. Damn, Chase, I never would have . . . Shit.”
“Yeah.” Chase rubbed his forehead. “I put out a BOLO as soon as I saw her car.”
“It makes sense,” Luke said slowly. “Especially the nurse at the hospital. Leigh brought me the message to meet her.”
Susannah went still. “Nurse Ohman said she’d been waiting outside for an hour.”
“Enough time for Leigh to take her call, inform Bobby, then draw you out with a false message from me,” Luke murmured. “Hell. Why? Why would Leigh do this?”
“Blackmail?” Susannah asked. “But what secret could be so bad that she’d do this?”
Chase blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Luke, let’s get the team together and debrief. We need to figure out where Bobby will go. Where’s your gun, Susannah?”
“Luke took it.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“It was my father’s,” Susannah said without missing a beat. “I took it from his house.”
Luke held back what would have been a weary sigh. She was protecting Leo and she lied very well. He wasn’t sure how he felt about either. He’d worry about it later.
Chase just nodded. “Don’t do it again,” was all he said.
Susannah lifted her chin. “Catch Bobby Davis, so I won’t have to.”
Chase’s smile was grim. “Fair enough.”
Bobby was thrown against Leigh Smithson’s car door as they careened around a corner. She bit back the cry of pain as the throbbing in her arm trebled. “I see your driving skills have not improved,” she gritted out, and Smithson shot her a glare.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, I know. Then again, I’m not the one who murdered three little kids.”
“Sure you have,” Smithson said bitterly.
Bobby chuckled. “You can let me off here.”
Leigh Smithson stopped the car and grabbed Bobby’s arm. “Shoot me.”
“So you can pretend I forced you? No. But this might help.” She pulled Marianne Woolf’s wig from her head and tossed it. “Knock yourself out.” Bobby slammed the door and started walking, shivering. It was cold. She’d dropped her coat when that cop started shooting at her. She still had her gun, but not her cell phone. Dammit. She’d have to get another phone and another car. That wouldn’t be too hard to do.
Her arm hurt. It continued to bleed sullenly, but at least she’d stopped most of the flow. She’d felt around enough to know the bullet was still in there.
I need a doctor. But a hospital wasn’t an option and Toby Granville couldn’t help her because he was dead, because of Daniel Vartanian. Damn him to hell.
She thought of Paul sitting in Charles’s kitchen. Charles had stitched him up. She hated to call Charles. Hated him.
This time she didn’t have a choice. She had to call Charles. Tanner could have fixed you up. But he was dead. By my hand. Because of Susannah Vartanian. If she hadn’t chased them to the rest area . . . Damn the woman. She needed to die. And soon.
But first I need a place to hide. To recharge. T
o heal.
She knew just the place. I’m going home.
Chapter Twenty-one
Atlanta, Sunday, February 4, 6:15 p.m.
The cameraman and Gretchen are both in serious, but stable condition,” Chase said when they’d regrouped. “The cop Bobby shot is already home and resting.”
“Thank God,” Talia said. “Poor Gretchen has been through a lot in the last week.”
“Haven’t we all?” Susannah murmured, very quiet now. Luke recognized the signs of adrenaline crash, knowing he would soon follow. But for now he was still on edge, his heart racing every time he thought about the hole in her sweater, right over her heart.
She now wore a GBI sweatshirt. Luke had entered her sweater into evidence, along with the gun she’d had in her purse. Luke knew from where it had come, just as he knew Leo would have made sure there was no way it could be traced back to him.
Luke would be indebted to Leo for the rest of his life.
“The cameraman was actually thrilled,” Ed said. “When he dropped his camera, it fell lens up. He got footage of Bobby’s face. It’s already on CNN.”
“We found Marianne Woolf’s car. Marianne was in the trunk, tied and gagged,” Luke said. “She’d been there since before this morning’s press conference. She got a call from Bobby asking to meet her and when she did, Bobby overpowered her and shoved her in the trunk. She stole her press pass first.”
“How did Bobby get a gun?” Pete asked. “Everyone went through a metal detector.”
Luke and Chase shared a look. This would not be pleasant for any of them.
“The gun came from our evidence room,” Chase said.
There was dead silence. Every expression was first disbelieving, then horrified, then furious. Then suspicious. “Checked out by whom?” Pete asked darkly.
Hank Germanio’s face hardened as Pete and Nancy threw wary glances his way. He said nothing and Luke actually felt sorry for him.
Chloe’s eyes narrowed at Chase, then Luke. “You know who it is. Tell us. Now.”
The hurt was still in Chase’s eyes. “Atlanta PD found Leigh’s body in her house, in her bathtub. She’d . . .” He swallowed audibly. “She’d eaten her gun.”
For several seconds no one said a word. No one breathed. What had been suspicion on their faces transformed back into disbelief, then utter shock.
“Leigh?” Talia finally asked. “Leigh Smithson?”
“Our Leigh?” Pete whispered.
Chase swallowed again. “Yes.”
“But why?” Nancy asked, her voice cracking. “Why did she do it?”
“We don’t know,” Chase said. His jaw went taut. “Yet. But we will.”
“It makes sense,” Luke said. “The witnesses or suspects who were killed before we could find them. Leigh was feeding Bobby information. Her LUDS showed she called the phone we found in Bobby’s coat.”
Talia slumped in her chair. “But how did she know what happened in here?”
“She put a listening device here, in this conference room,” Ed said.
“I’ll keep you updated on the investigation into Leigh’s motives,” Chase said. “Now, we need to focus on finding Bobby. She’s disappeared. We’re watching Ridgefield House, the bunker on the river, and the house she shared with Garth.”
“We checked her computer,” Luke said. “And her main clients. She doesn’t appear to be with any of them. We’ve checked every Davis relative and nobody’s seen her.”
“What about Granville’s thích?” Susannah asked quietly.
Chase sighed wearily. “I’m not disputing he exists, Susannah, but until we have some evidence that he’s physically done something to someone—”
“He did,” Susannah interrupted. “Monica said he was in the bunker, talking to Granville, that Granville asked him to help break her. Whether this guy laid a hand on Monica or not, he knew she was there. That’s conspiracy to commit kidnapping.”
“She’s right,” Chloe said.
Yes, she is, Luke thought, pride and respect for her swelling anew. Even with all she’d been through, her mind still worked with clockwork precision.
“Besides,” Susannah added. “Maybe that’s where Bobby’s hiding.”
Chase rubbed his temples. “You’re right. Suggestions?”
“We get Darcy’s killer to talk,” Susannah said. “He knows who he is but he’s afraid.”
“I’ll call Al Landers,” Chloe said. “We’ll work on getting through to Darcy’s killer.”
“We’ve got Bobby’s photo posted with every agency in the tristate area and with Customs in case she tries to leave the country,” Chase said.
“Which is only good if she travels under her own name,” Susannah countered.
“You’re right again,” Chase said tightly. “But until we know more, that’s all we can do. We meet again at eight in the morning.”
“Susannah,” Chloe said. “Can you give me a minute? I need to talk to you.”
Susannah remained seated as everyone filed out, as did Luke. Chloe lifted her brows and Luke shook his head, not liking the vibe. “I’m staying, Chloe.”
Chloe shrugged. When the door was closed she turned to Susannah. “Your gun.”
“My father’s,” Susannah said.
“It’s not marked or registered,” Chloe said. “Serial numbers are filed off.”
“I didn’t think to look at serial numbers. I’m sorry.”
Chloe shook her head. “Oh, please. You’re far too smart to make a mistake like that. But let’s move on. You were carrying a concealed weapon without a license.”
“She has one,” Luke protested. “In New York.”
“Not recognized here,” Chloe said. “No reciprocity exists.”
“What’s the point?” Luke asked. He’d known this was coming. Still, it made him mad.
“The point is that every reporter in that room saw Susannah shoot that woman with an unregistered gun she has no license to carry. I can’t let that slide by.”
“For God’s sake, Chloe,” Luke snapped, but Susannah put her hand on his.
“It’s all right. I knew what I was doing when I put the gun in my purse. I knew Bobby would stop at nothing. I knew I was vulnerable. I didn’t want to die. So I took one of my father’s guns and put it in my purse and shot the woman in front of a room full of cameras.” She met Chloe’s gaze. “Will you charge me?”
Chloe looked uncomfortable. “Dammit, Susannah.”
“If I hadn’t had the gun, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Susannah said, calmly. “Bobby had her gun pointed at me from inside her pocket. You know she’d already fired three shots, one that hit me. So I shot her and I’m not sorry.”
“I’m not going to charge you in the shooting,” Chloe said. “It was clearly self-defense. But, Susannah, what kind of example would I be making if I let you get away with breaking the law? What would you do if our roles were reversed? Be honest.”
“I’d have to charge you,” Susannah said.
Luke gritted his teeth. “Susannah.”
“The law is clear, Luke. Chloe doesn’t really have a choice.”
“I know.” Chloe closed her eyes. “Dammit.”
“You said that already,” Susannah said dryly. One side of her mouth lifted. “You wanna sleep on it, Counselor?”
Chloe let out a surprised chuckle, then sobered. “You could get disbarred.”
Susannah’s smile faded. “I know. But I’d rather be disbarred than interred.”
Luke thought of the bullet hole in her blouse again and had to draw a deep breath.
“I’d have done the same,” Chloe murmured. “That’s what makes this so hard.”
“Chloe, I did what I needed to do. You do what you need to do. I won’t fight you.”
“If you did I’d feel better,” Chloe grumbled.
“It’s not my job to make you feel better,” Susannah said evenly.
Chloe glared at her. “Goddamn it. Doesn’t anything
rattle you?”
“Yeah,” Susannah said bitterly. “Lots of things, but one in particular comes to mind. What the hell did that reporter mean when he said Garth Davis denied raping me?”
Chloe sighed. “Tomlinson said he got an anonymous tip about the Darcy Williams murder, and that Garth Davis hadn’t raped you, and to check it with Garth himself. He did and Garth confirmed, categorically denying having assaulted you in any way.”
“But my picture . . .” Susannah closed her mouth.
“Her picture was in that box with the others,” Luke said, stowing his desire to rip Garth Davis’s fucking head off.
“I know,” Chloe said. “I talked to the tech who’s been categorizing the photos. She says there were nude shots and rape shots. She said there were sixteen victims photographed nude, but only fifteen being assaulted. Susannah, you weren’t.”
Susannah stiffened, but said nothing, and Luke remembered their conversation in Monica’s ICU room the day before. He did at least one, she’d said, talking about Simon. How had she known?
“Garth’s lying,” Susannah said softly. Too softly. Her hand that held his trembled.
“We’ll talk to him,” Luke promised. “But not today. I’m taking you home.”
Chloe stood. “I’m gonna sleep on it. I’ll give you my decision tomorrow.”
When Chloe was gone, Luke pulled Susannah into his arms. “It’ll be all right,” he murmured into her hair. “One way or another.”
She hung on tight, her whole body trembling. “How do you know?”
He pressed his lips to her forehead before tipping up her chin to meet her gaze. “Because you’ve survived a hell of a lot worse alone. And you’re not alone anymore.”
Emotions churned in her eyes. The fury and fear he understood. The gratitude made him angry. But it was the hope that made his own eyes sting. She smiled at him then, and leaned up on her toes to brush her lips over his, sending every nerve singing. “Then it’ll be all right. Let’s get out of here. I think I could sleep a year.”
