by Alex Ander
Faith rested her gold-colored spectacles on top of her head. “I left right after,” she jabbed a thumb toward Randall, “Noah called me. So, about,” a beat, “four hours or so after that, I guess.”
Devlin checked her bare arm for a watch before glancing around the space. “How long have I been asleep?”
He pursed his lips and spied his timepiece. “Not counting your naps at the hospital, or on the drive over here,” he bobbed his head back and forth, “just over eight hours.”
She sighed, “I’m so sorry,” then rubbed the back of her neck. “I was just so—”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Faith got up, circled around behind Devlin, and massaged her older sibling’s neck. “Your body needed rest. It’s okay. Life went on. And don’t worry. The bad guys are still bad.”
“Oh my gosh,” Devlin sat upright, her eyes wide. “I totally forgot. We need to interrogate McGantry.” She leaned forward to stand. “Find out what he knows.”
Faith pulled her back into the comfy chair. “Done...and done.”
“What do you mean?” The marshal eyed her partner. “What is she talking about?”
Randall lifted a finger toward the standing woman. “When Faith got here—to stay with you—I went down to the police station and questioned our prisoner.”
“You did?”
He nodded.
“And?”
“McGantry gave up a name.”
Faith cocked her head at Randall.
He showed her a palm. “Sorry...only a last name. But I also got him to work with a sketch artist who came up with a digital drawing of what this man looks like. From there—”
“That’s when I,” Faith headed for her spot on the couch, “used the im—”
Devlin caught her by the arm.
Faith pivoted to see her sister poking a finger toward the area she had been kneading. She smiled and resumed the therapy session. “That’s when I used the digital image to come up with a possible full name—and location—of one Duke Hammer.”
Devlin raised a hand. “Wait a minute. Before we go any further,” she eyed her partner, “how’d you get McGantry to open up to you so easily? I took him for a tough nut to crack.”
Randall hunched his shoulders. “I told him we had his brother. And the first one to talk gets the murder charges dropped.”
She frowned. “His brother was killed in that boat crash.”
“But he didn’t know that.”
“So, you played him against his dead brother?”
“Yeah, I felt bad about that, but I really had no choice.” Randall dipped his forehead toward her. “You saw him at that houseboat. He was defiant as hell. After an hour of questioning him, I realized there was no way he was going to tell me anything without applying some pressure.” A tick. “Anyway, knowing how his brother left him standing on the dock, it didn’t take him long to spill his guts.”
She lifted an eyebrow and one corner of her mouth at him. “More CIA tactics?”
“DEA, actually. I used that scheme to get many a drug pusher to turn on his supplier.”
“Okay. So, we have a name now. What do we know about him...this Duke Hammer? Where do we—oh,” Devlin shut her eyes and tipped her head to one side. “If you ever quit law enforcement, Fay, you’d make a wonderful massager...massage person...massa—” Devlin shook her head, “whatever they’re called.” A beat. “So, where do we find this Duke Hammer?”
“Now we come to the interesting part.” Randall put both feet on the floor, scooted to the edge of the cushion, and leaned forward to pick up a stainless-steel gun, his eyes glimpsing the name ‘Jessica’ engraved on the slide.
Devlin eyeballed the Colt in his grasp then waited for him to face her.
He worked the slide back and forth a few times, set the pistol aside, and picked up one of three empty magazines and blew into the ammo carrier a couple times before spotting the quizzical look on her face. He motioned toward Faith. “Your sister told me where she keeps her gun-cleaning kit. So, I used it to get your blaster back to normal,” a tick, “since it too went for a swim with its owner.”
Her head lolling around from the shoulder and neck massage, she sent an appreciative smile his way.
“I also cleaned your mags, washed your clothes, and bought you a new cell phone. Your old one was toast...okay soggy toast. Oh, and just to be on the safe side, I got you some,” he held up a cube-like cardboard box, “fresh cartridges from your duffle bag. The ones that got wet I put into a plastic baggie. I’m sure you can still use them at the range, though.”
“Thank you...yet again.” A beat. “So, what’s the interesting part you mentioned?” Devlin patted her sister’s forearm. “I’m good now. Thanks.”
Faith sat on Randall’s left, slid a laptop off the coffee table, and placed the machine on her thighs. “Duke Hammer’s history only goes back two years. Before that,” she rotated her eyeglasses down onto her nose, “he didn’t exist.”
Randall tipped his head to the left. “Until she worked her magic, that is.”
Faith beamed while pecking away at the computer. “That’s right. No one can hide from me.”
Aware of her younger sib’s IT skills, Devlin half grinned.
“It seems,” continued Faith, “Duke Hammer went by the name of Duke Hammerstein for the thirty-one-year-old’s first twenty-eight years on this planet.”
Devlin’s eyebrows went up. “He changed his name? Why?”
“Out of necessity, I’m guessing. While serving in the U.S. Army, he was involved in a raid on a village in Afghanistan. After the raid was over, and no insurgents had been found, it seems he lost it and went on a killing spree, murdering more than a dozen innocent civilians. He was then tried in a military court.”
Her forearms resting on her chair’s armrests, the female marshal flipped over her hands and showed the ceiling her palms. “Then, why isn’t he in jail?”
“William C. Hammerstein.” A pulse. “Duke’s father.”
Devlin’s eyebrows came together.
“He’s a big-time businessman in the investment world.”
Randall thumbed a round into a magazine. “Was.”
“That’s right.”
Devlin: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well,” Faith eyed the laptop’s screen, “Duke was never convicted of his crimes. Somehow, he got off.”
Randall smacked a full magazine against his palm. “Oh, I think we know how he got off.”
She lifted a forefinger at her man. “Maybe. But we’re not sure of anything at this point.”
“We do have enough to at least suspect dear old dad pulled some strings for junior.”
“True. And that’s why I’m going to California to try and confirm those suspicions.”
Devlin confronted Faith. “You’re going to California?”
Faith faced Devlin. “I’m heading to Old Man Hammerstein’s ranch to ask him some questions about the bank robberies.” Noticing the horizontal lines on her kin’s forehead deepening, Faith raised a hand. “Let me back up. Shortly after Duke’s trial, his father went bankrupt. He lost everything, including his job. The only thing he managed to hang onto was his ranch north of Redding.”
Randall looked up from his work of loading magazines. “Long story short...we think the old man used up his political, business, and financial capital to get his son off from murder charges. Having nothing left, we believe he then took a job at a banking institution.”
“The same banking institution that,” Faith set her laptop back on the coffee table, “owns all three banks that were robbed over the last year.”
Devlin huffed. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“I’m thinking the same thing. That’s why I’m going to Redding to question Mr. Hammerstein.” She gestured toward the computer. “All of these bank jobs were precise hits. The robbers would have had to have someone on the inside to pull them off, someone feeding them information, delivery sched
ules of when the money was to be transferred.”
“And you’re thinking,” Devlin looked up and squinted at where the wall met the ceiling, “Duke Hammer, and his gang, may have been getting inside information from Duke’s father.”
“After the shooting destroyed both of their lives,” Randall held a shrug, “what do either of them have to lose?”
Devlin pondered the theory for a half minute before standing. “So, the plan is for,” she eyed her partner, “us to head to,” she wavered before including Faith in her gaze, “where did you two say Duke lived?”
Faith: “Spokane, Washington...about four hours from here.”
Devlin went back to Randall. “So, the plan is for us to go to Spokane while,” she observed Faith, “you go to Redding...to question the father.”
Randall slid a full magazine into a pouch and reached for another mag. “That’s what we’re thinking, but you’re the one in charge, so...”
“Well,” she glanced around the apartment before motioning toward the laptop, “it seems like you guys have done your homework, so,” she shrugged, “who am I to poo-poo things. When do we leave?”
“As soon as I’ve,” he tidied the hardware on the table, stood, and stretched arms over his head, “had a chance to snag a few hours. Not all of us are as well-rested as you, Jessica.” He made his way around the couch and strolled away from the women. “I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a short while, Faith, but is it okay if I use your bed?”
“Sure.” She removed her glasses and folded the temples inward. “I’ll join you in a second.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and half turned to regard her.
Devlin cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow at her stoic-faced sibling.
Her eyes going from one person to the other a couple times, Faith dialed up a mischievous grin then focused on her man. “You probably meant a few hours of sleep, didn’t you? My bad.” Using her specs for a pointer, she gestured toward the bedroom. “Go ahead. Be my guest.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 22
You’re Not Alone, Noah
18 MAY—4:28 A.M.
SPOKANE, WASHINGTON
Randall pulled up behind two police cruisers, threw the transmission into ‘Park,’ and killed the engine to the Chrysler 300S before eyeing the officers getting out of their vehicles. “Looks like they’re ready.” He faced Devlin. “Are you?”
“I think the real question is are you ready? Do you have your head on straight for this?”
He leaned away from her a bit. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You hardly said anything the whole way here. In fact, I think your sighs outnumbered your words.”
He barely shook his head. “I’m not following you. What are you getting at?”
“You’re not fooling anyone, Noah, especially me. I saw that exchange between you and Faith back at her apartment,” a tick, “right before we left.”
Randall turned away to stare through the windshield, his mind taking him back to Seattle.
FOUR-AND-A-HALF HOURS AGO...
Devlin pushed the ‘down’ arrow button, turned away from the elevator, and eyed Randall and Faith.
Her back against the jamb of her apartment door, fingers tucked into the back waistband of her pink sweatpants, Faith looked up at Randall.
A duffle bag over his left shoulder, he drank in her appearance from head to toe before reversing course and poking his chin at her eyewear. “You look crazy hot in those things, you know that?”
In one swift motion, she stripped the glasses from her face, closed the temples, and crossed her arms to hide the item in question under one arm while glancing away from him. “Oh, please. I look like an old-time schoolmarm in them. All that’s missing is a big mound of hair on top of my head.”
“What? Are you kidding me? The hair bun would make it even better,” he paused, “you know, when you peel off your glasses, undo your hair with one of those,” he tipped his head back and shook it, “quick headshake things...before firing off a sexy, sultry smile for the camera.”
Watching her man act out the scene, she let a truncated laugh slip by her parting lips. “I think you’ve watched a few too many music videos as a kid. Your perspective on women’s sexuality is a little skewed.”
Nodding, he conceded the point. “You could be right on that.” A beat. “Seriously, though, you look super hot in them.”
Feeling her body temperature rising, she glimpsed him before looking down, a glimmer of a grin overtaking her features. “Thank you, but I wish I didn’t need them at all. I’m just shy of 20/20 vision, but it’s enough to make extended computer work unpleasant.”
Perceiving a chink in her armor, a vulnerable side to this strong-willed, independent woman’s personality, he grinned, his affection for her blossoming even more. “Well, I think they make you look even sexier, so we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” He leaned in then looked right to glimpse his partner before retreating. “So, are we supposed to shake hands, high five each other, or,” out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Devlin turn toward the elevator, “what? I’m not exactly sure what to do next.”
Faith bent her right leg to put her bare foot flat against the jamb. “What do you want to do?” She brought her hands around to fiddle with the hem of the white t-shirt stretched taut across her breasts.
A bell chimed, and the elevator doors opened.
His eyes went down and up her figure. “Honestly,” he gave her a second once-over, “with your sister standing over there, I’m not sure it would be appropriate for me to tell you what I really want to do to you.”
She smiled. “To me? I just asked what you wanted to do.”
“Right now,” he matched her expression, “they’re one and the same.”
Faith moved in closer, clutched his shoulders, and went to tip toes. “Let’s start with this.” She gave him a long, passionate kiss then went back to her heels.
He licked his lips and sighed. “I’m not sure that’s going to hold me.” He dipped his chin while shaking his head. “This whole thing—you and me—has just gotten off to a weird start. We should be together right now, doing something with each other...not heading off to different parts of the country for who knows how long. This,” he paused, “well, this sucks.”
“I agree. But it’s only for a little while. We can make it through.” She straightened his leather jacket and laid both hands on his chest. “Jess is holding the elevator, so you better get going.” She caressed his chin with the tip of her right forefinger. “Besides, if you don’t, I might just,” offering up a provocative smile, she gripped his coat and gave him a little tug, “drag you back in here, take you to my bedroom, and...”
PRESENT TIME...
His mind adding the image to go with how Faith had finished her sentence, Randall let a thin grin come and go.
“I’ve,” Devlin glanced out her window and gave the darkness outside a long look, “I’ve had that same going-away exchange with Curt on many occasions. It sucks.”
Randall huffed under his breath. Truer words...
“Believe me. I know.”
“It,” he took a moment to gather his thoughts, “it just seems this whole relationship has been squeehawed from the beginning. From you shutting it down to—” he glimpsed her, “sorry. Didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
She waved him off, “No need to apologize,” then gestured. “Go on.”
“Well, on the other hand, this whole thing seems crazy. I mean I’m a grown man, not some teenager pining over a girl in his math class.”
Devlin suppressed a snicker.
“To tell you the truth, I’m a little embarrassed to even bring it up.”
“You have nothing to feel embarrassed about.” She pivoted in her seat to face him head-on. “Listen. When my first husband was killed, I was lost for a long time.”
“Whoa. Whoa. You can’t compare two people being away from each
other to losing your spouse. Those two things are on different planets.”
She pumped a hand his way. “Just let me finish.”
He raised two palms. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“Thank you. Anyway, one night, a few months after the funeral—after I had put Cassie to bed—I collapsed onto the sofa, crawled up into a ball, and hugged the stuffing out of a pillow, wishing it were Jon.”
Randall pressed his lips together at the painful picture she had painted.
“My dad entered the room a short time later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. And for the next couple hours, we polished off that bottle and had a good heart-to-heart. He told me what he went through after my mom had died. Faith and I were too young to remember much at the time, and he had never spoken about how hard it had been for him...until that night, of course.”
Randall spun toward Devlin, crossed arms over his chest, and leaned into his seat, his gaze never leaving the storyteller.
“I’ll never forget that night. I went from heart-broken, self-pitying, boo-hoo poor me,” she paused, her heart recalling the emotions it had felt, “to...to realizing I wasn’t the only one in this world to have lost the love of my life.”
The driver tipped his head to one side. “So, what did your dad say to accomplish such a turnaround?”
She shook her head. “I honestly don’t remember.”
Randall arched his brows.
“But that’s not what was important. The important thing was knowing that someone else—a loved one—had gone through the same experience that I was going through. I wasn’t alone. And that made all the difference.” She regarded her partner for a long moment. “You’re not alone, Noah. Like I said before, I’ve been where you are now, having to leave Curt for days at a time. It doesn’t matter if it’s a marriage, high school puppy love, or a grown man wanting to spend time with his woman. Missing someone is missing someone. I know what you’re going through. That ache in the pit of your stomach can be rough, distracting at times. So, if you want to talk, blow off some steam, know that I’m a good listener.”
