Blake was more than capable of handling himself, but Jason didn’t believe for a second that their perp was worried about the Harrison family.
“What did he say?” He enunciated each word.
Talbert huffed. “Kept going on about how we couldn’t use his real name. How he had to check in with someone, and if he didn’t, they’d find out and things would get a whole lot worse.” He scoffed. “Guy’s obviously only worried about himself. Probably got a rich daddy somewhere who’s going to cut off his trust fund if he gets busted again.”
Jason squeezed the edge of the desk to keep himself from grabbing Talbert by the shirt. “Did he mention any names?”
“Nah. Kept rambling on about how he was going to die and it was going to be on us.”
“Did he call his lawyer?”
“Nope.”
“Did he call anyone?”
“He did, but it wasn’t a lawyer.”
Talbert was going to be the death of him. “How do you know?”
“’Cause as soon as he hung up he asked for another call so he could call the lawyer this time. Told him to forget it. Guy too stupid to use his call to get a lawyer can wait for the public defender.”
“Do we have a name yet?”
“Nope. Still waiting on prints.”
“Where is he now?”
“In interrogation. Waiting for you.” Jason was halfway down the hall before Talbert finished talking. He grabbed his cell phone. Hit the redial button. “Kyle. Lock the place down.”
There was a two-second pause before Kyle responded. “On it.”
“I’ll call you in a few.” He didn’t like Kyle, but he had to hand it to him. He didn’t mess around with random questions when there wasn’t time.
Michael stood outside the door. “What’s wrong with you?”
Jason pointed to the door. “He called someone when he got here, but Talbert says it wasn’t a lawyer. He also says he’s been ranting about how he was going to be killed for this. We need to find out who he called and get some patrols out to Caroline’s house. Now. He may have called someone to finish his job.”
“Done.” Michael sprinted away.
Jason made sure the recording equipment was on. No way he wanted this guy to get off on any sort of technicality.
He burst through the door. “What were you doing on the Harrison property tonight?”
The perpetrator scrambled out of his seat and came to a stop in a half crouch. What on earth? Had Jason scared him that much?
Frenzied eyes blinked at him. He saw him take in the badge. The notepad. Distrust emanated from every twitching muscle fiber.
Still in a defensive posture, he glared at Jason. “Who are you?”
Jason scraped the chair along the floor before he sat. Whoever this guy was scared of, he must believe they had the resources to infiltrate a detention center. Or that they were already part of the law enforcement community.
Jason studied him. The stage had lost a true artist if this guy was faking his fear.
He pointed to the chair across from him. “I’m Detective Jason Drake with the Henderson County Sheriff’s Office. Why don’t you have a seat and you can tell me who you are and why you were twenty feet up a tree on private property tonight.”
One quick shake of the head was the only response.
“Fine. No name given, so I’m going to call you George. Makes it easier on me. You don’t look like a George, but whatever.”
He started writing on the legal pad he’d brought with him.
“I need protection.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“George” slid into the chair across from Jason and leaned across the table. His eyes, though still frenzied, were now wide and imploring. “Please. They’ll kill my kid.”
Jason sat back in his chair. Was this guy playing him? He didn’t believe him, yet. But whether it was true or not, he needed to hear this story.
“Names.”
“George” slid back in his seat. “No way. You have no idea.”
“I didn’t mean your bosses’ names.”
“What?”
“Your name. Your kid’s name. If you honestly believe your kid’s in danger, you’d better start talking so we can get some protective custody for…him? Her?”
“They’ll know.”
“If they’re as powerful as you seem to think they are, then you should assume they already know you’re in here. Start talking.”
“Why should I trust you?”
The words were harsh, and the anguish in “George’s” eyes had Jason’s hair standing up on the back of his neck.
“I’m your only hope. Take it or leave it.”
“George” dropped his face in his hands. “I have a son. And a wife. Well, I had a wife. We’re divorced. She hates me, but I still love her. Our little boy has heart issues. Had a bunch of surgeries. Needs medicine. I had insurance, but even with that the debt kept growing. I started gambling. Got in too deep to the wrong people. Now they own me.”
He looked up. “My boy’s name is Mark. They know where he is. They’ll kill him. Same as they’ll kill that woman and the little boy. I don’t know whose bad side she got on, but they won’t stop until the kid is dead. I’m sorry. I really am.”
Time to find out just how sorry. “How did you get into the house?”
“George” slumped in his chair. “From that tree stand you found me in tonight there’s a clear line of sight to the keypad on the alarm system.”
“You watched her punch in the code?”
“Yep. I’ve been in the house a couple of times to try it out.”
“Did you mess with the water heater, too?”
“Yes.”
“The fire ants?”
He shrugged. “I saw she had a lot of antihistamines and EpiPens stashed everywhere. Took a chance that the bites might set off an allergic reaction. Not sorry it didn’t work.”
He wasn’t sorry? Interesting. “Did you leave that picture for us to find?”
“George” didn’t respond, but he didn’t look surprised, either.
“Who hired you?”
“I don’t know.”
Jason slammed his hand on the table. “You told me they’re going to kill your family. You know them well enough to know that much. Give me something.”
“I need protection before I tell you anything else.”
Jason shook his head. “You haven’t given me enough to go on. You could be faking this whole thing to get set up somewhere with a new life. How do I know it’s legitimate? You haven’t even told me your name yet.”
“Larry,” he said. “Larry Sanders.”
“Where are you from, Larry?”
“Greenville. North Carolina. Not South Carolina.”
“I know where Greenville is.”
Larry looked at him. Again with the pleading eyes. This guy was killing him. “I’m in debt. They paid off my kid’s hospital bills, wiped out my gambling debts in full. But if I don’t do the job…”
“What do you know about them?”
“I know this isn’t the first time they’ve taken a hit out on somebody.”
“Who?”
“Some guy in Wilmington.”
Jason hoped his face didn’t give anything away. “Wilmington?”
“Some kid in jail. Made it look like a jailbreak gone bad, but that was just a cover.”
“Why did they want him dead?”
“No idea, but I’m guessing it’s related to why they want the kid dead.”
Jason tried to keep his breathing even. “Do you know the guy’s name?”
“Nah. Just heard about it. Shouldn’t be too hard to find in the papers.”
Jason studied Larry. Larry studied his hands. Every facet of his body language showed defeat. The guy could be faking…but Jason doubted it. “Who did you call earlier?”
Larry’s eyes flew to his face. “My wife. Told her to split. We had a plan.”
&
nbsp; “Where’s she headed?”
Larry shook his head. “No way. Not until you offer me something. I’ve told you more than I should. You have enough to go on.”
Jason stood. “I’m going to check out your story. If you’ve lied to me about anything, you’ll get no help from me.”
Larry shook his head, sorrow etching his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m past any help you can give me. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be praying.”
This guy was a study in contrasts. A criminal family man? A praying hit man?
Or a man willing to pretend to be anything in order to avoid jail?
“You keep praying. I’ll do the same.”
*
Caroline paced the floor of her living room. She’d made exactly seventeen passes when the sound of the door opening shattered her nerves. Her mind registered the face in front of her before her body did. “Where have you been?”
Kyle backed up a step. “Whoa. I’ve been gone less than three minutes. No need to start yelling. And put that thing down.”
She lowered the weapon. “I didn’t yell.”
One eyebrow ticked up as he studied her. She hadn’t meant to yell. He’d told her to grab her gun as he raced out the door. Did he really expect her to react to that calmly? She needed answers, and she needed them yesterday.
She made a conscious effort to speak in a softer tone. “Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“No idea.”
“For crying out loud, Kyle.”
He held up his hands again in mock surrender. “I don’t. Okay?” He tapped his phone. “Your boyfriend called. Told me to lock the place down. He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask any questions. So until we hear back from him, or until the cavalry arrives, we’re going to stay alert. Okay?”
“What part of that do you think is okay with me?”
She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Had it been only three nights ago that her biggest concern had been watching the latest episode of Masterpiece Theatre she’d recorded?
The most unusual aspect of her life at that moment was the child sleeping in the next room. Sure, it wasn’t your typical everyday experience—adopting your dead best friend’s son—but it was hardly dangerous.
At least, she hadn’t expected it to be.
“Here they come,” Kyle said from the dining room. He’d set up an array of laptops on the table. How many men traveled with six computers, at least three tablets and a few gadgets she didn’t recognize?
“Who?”
“The cavalry.”
A siren pierced the air. “Why are they doing that?”
“No need to be subtle. If there’s someone else out there, someone thinking about trying to get to you tonight, there’s no reason not to make a show of force.”
That made sense.
She rubbed her temples. “I’m going to make some coffee.”
Kyle nodded without looking away from the screen. “Probably a good idea. It’s going to be a long night for those guys.”
“For me, too.”
He jumped up and blocked her path to the kitchen. “No. Not for you.”
Was he crazy?
“If you think I’m going to bed—”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“Not happening.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You can’t make me go to bed, Kyle Richards. This is my life. My son’s life. I can’t afford—”
“What you can’t afford is to be unable to focus. This isn’t going to be resolved tonight, and you’re dead on your feet. I’d guess you are no more than ten minutes from a crash. The adrenaline you’ve been running on for the past hour will be gone and you’ll be left with nothing to keep you going.”
“Until the next attack sends my adrenaline through the roof again.”
He put his hands on her upper arms. She resisted the urge to throw her arms back and try some of the self-defense moves Heidi had taught her. Kyle probably knew those moves, too—and how to parry them. Besides, fighting with him right now would be a waste of valuable energy.
“Listen to me,” he said. His eyes burned with intensity, his face closer than she wanted it to be. “I will not let anyone touch you. Or Henry. I will wake you up at the first hint of danger. I will tell you about any news. But if you don’t close your eyes for at least a couple of hours, you’re going to put yourself into a deficit you can’t recover from.”
“You—”
“I’m trained for this. And I know where my limits are and what to do if I’m forced to exceed them. You don’t, and this isn’t the time to find out.”
“But what if Jason—”
“Drake will be busy at the jail for the rest of the evening. If he needs you to identify anything or answer any questions, I will wake you up.”
She disagreed with him on all fronts. But arguing seemed futile.
“Fine.” She turned on her heel. “I expect a full report via text every hour.”
Kyle huffed. “Yes, ma’am.”
She stepped into her room and closed the door. As tempting as her bed was right now, she had no intention of stretching out on it. She had other plans.
She walked into her closet. It was huge. Too big. She’d designed it back when she spent more money on clothes each week than she now did on diapers. Over the years, her tastes—and her spending habits—had moderated.
In addition to her clothes, there was a lot of room for other items, including the boxes that had come from Henry’s nursery in Stephanie’s house. She’d glanced through them in those early days. They contained a hodgepodge of framed photos, decorations, a baby book. Nothing that had been essential to her transition from single woman to single mom.
Maybe the answer to Henry’s mysterious past was hidden in them.
Maybe it wasn’t, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she’d gone through everything she could get her hands on.
FOURTEEN
It was after midnight in North Carolina, but Jason had no way of knowing where Heidi was or what she was doing. He called the number she’d left for him and wasn’t surprised when it went straight to voice mail. He left a brief message requesting that she contact him and ended the call.
He resisted the urge to rest his head on the cool metal of his desk. Instead, he slid the computer keyboard toward him. Time to find out if anyone had died in a Wilmington jail in the past couple of years.
He wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that no one could fool him, but he trusted his internal lie detector. Larry might not know the details of the “accidental” jail death he’d referred to, but something told him digging deeper would give them some essential answers.
And maybe a few other things would start to make sense.
Had Stephanie been running for her life? And Henry’s? What had she known?
And why hadn’t she warned Caroline?
Jason clicked open good old Google. He could go through law enforcement databases to find what he needed, but right now he wasn’t looking for the official account.
All he wanted was a name.
The search engine spit out more jail deaths than he’d anticipated. A few more clicks and he found what he was looking for.
Wilmington, NC—Officials thwarted an attempted jailbreak Tuesday morning. No officers were wounded. Three inmates suffered minor injuries. One inmate, Charles Townsend, thirty-two, died from injuries believed to have been sustained during his attempted escape.
Jason scanned the rest of the report.
Charles Townsend.
He punched the name into his computer. Moments later, he had an arrest record—and a mug shot.
He stared into the eyes of a man no older than himself. Eyes that he’d seen before.
Henry’s eyes.
He wouldn’t need the paternity testing to confirm it. This was what Henry would look like in thirty years.
He scanned through the report. Arrested on drug possessio
n.
That was an easy enough thing to plant on someone innocent. Put some drugs in someone’s car, then bust out a taillight or stage an accident to get the police to search the vehicle. Guy gets caught red-handed.
But why no bail? Surely Stephanie would have bailed him out.
He read on.
Oh boy.
His phone rang. “Drake.”
“Detective Drake,” the voice on the other end of the line spoke in a crisp tone.
“Special Agent Zimmerman.”
She laughed. “It’s Heidi. Whatcha got?”
He filled her in on everything that had happened. From his suspicion that there might be information in Stephanie’s belongings at the Crawfords’ house to his interrogation of Larry and his suspicions about Charles Townsend. She didn’t interrupt. He appreciated that, but at one point he was afraid he was talking into thin air until the sound of fingers tapping across a keyboard filtered through the line.
“I have his mug shot,” Heidi said at last. “The resemblance to Henry is uncanny.” The typing continued. “Give me one second,” she said.
He waited, his eyes continuing to study Charles Townsend. What had he gotten into? What had he been afraid of? Who was he? Because he doubted that Charles Townsend was his real name.
“Okay,” Heidi said. “I’m headed to the coast.”
“What?”
“I just got back to my office in DC. I would have been home this afternoon, but I’ve changed my flight plans. I’ll do some digging about Charles Townsend here, and I’ll go interview the sheriff in Wilmington.”
Jason’s head spun. “Okay.”
“Look, I’m not trying to step on your toes, but I can be there in a few hours. It’s an eight-hour drive for you. Plus you’d have to leave Caroline and Henry, and I’m sure you don’t want to do that.”
His skin flushed. How could she know?
“Truth is, I don’t want you to, either. My husband and daughter will be home in about sixteen hours, and I’d rather you stay there and make sure they aren’t returning to a war zone.”
Jason couldn’t argue with her logic.
Hidden Legacy Page 11
