by Janie Crouch
She didn’t even really want to talk to him, and avoided doing so by pretending to sleep part of the way. But about an hour outside Colorado Springs, she had to go to the bathroom.
“Can we make one short pit stop?”
“We’ve got less than an hour. We’re almost to Pueblo. Can’t you hold it?”
If he’d been annoyed, she would’ve argued with him. But he didn’t look annoyed. He looked distrustful.
“Fine.” She would hold it, even if it killed her.
Thirty minutes later she was afraid it really would.
“Look, we’re going to have to stop, okay? I know you think I’m planning some sort of nuclear attack or whatever, but my pregnant body is not going to wait to go to the bathroom.”
He almost cracked a smile at that. “Fine. I’ll get gas while we stop.”
He pulled up at the gas pump and Rosalyn ran inside to use the restroom. She felt much better when she came back out. She wondered what she could do to help ease the tension between her and Steve. She had to accept it was his job to be distrustful—he was a cop, after all. She shouldn’t be offended if he was butting into her business with questions all the time. Especially if it was because he was trying to keep her safe.
She would be the better person. Maybe buy him a candy bar as a peace offering. Who could resist chocolate? Plus, she was hungry.
Then again, she was always hungry.
She looked out the gas-station convenience-store window at Steve, wondering what he would like. A guy on a motorcycle was moving slowly toward Steve as he pumped the gas. Steve was looking at her. Probably to make sure she wasn’t robbing the cash register.
At first she didn’t pay any mind to the motorcycle except to wonder why he was coming up directly behind their car rather than to one of the empty pumps. But then she saw the rider pull something out of his jacket. It looked like a small stick.
Then he flicked his wrist and it grew into a much longer club.
He was going to hit Steve with it.
Rosalyn dropped the candy and ran toward the door knowing there was no way she’d make it outside in time to warn Steve or stop the motorcycle guy.
Something in her face alerted him, or maybe just his cop instincts, and he spun and threw up his arm just as the club came at his head.
A soft scream came out of her mouth as she saw the impact. It had to have hurt—had maybe even broken his arm—but at least Steve was still on his feet. A blow that severe to his head would’ve killed him.
In the corner of her mind the agony of what this meant—the Watcher had found her again—tried to take control, but she wouldn’t let it. She couldn’t have a breakdown right now. She had to help Steve.
“Call the police!” she yelled at the cashier. “My friend is being attacked.”
She didn’t wait to see if the cashier did it; she just ran through the doors.
The guy pulled the club back for another swing, but Steve was more prepared this time. The attacker swung from the side rather than in a downward motion and Steve ducked. He brought his uninjured arm up like he planned to use it to punch the guy, but the man was too far away for Steve to be able to reach him. The stick gave him all the advantage.
He brought it down at Steve again, with not as much force, but it still knocked Steve to the ground as it hit his shoulder. He got back up, but the attacker was already bringing his arm around again.
“Hey, leave him alone!” Rosalyn didn’t think through the wisdom of being unarmed, smaller and pregnant when facing the attacker, just knew she had to get him away from Steve. The best way to do that would be to bring as much attention to the situation as possible.
The motorcycle man looked at her, but she couldn’t see his face through the darkened visor.
“Yeah, you, get away from him. Somebody help us!”
Rosalyn might not be able to do much but she could scream her head off. She also reached for bottles of oil that were stacked by the front door as she ran past them, throwing them as she went. None of them got far enough to hit the attacker, but at least she was making enough of a spectacle of herself to draw even more attention.
Other people were coming out of the store and a car on the road had pulled in to see what was going on. The motorcycle man realized the situation and threw his stick down and sped off. Nobody could do anything to stop him.
Rosalyn ran over to Steve.
“Are you okay?”
He was still cradling the arm he’d used to block the first—and hardest—hit. “Yeah. I’m okay. I don’t have much feeling in my arm, but better than if he had hit me in the head.”
Rosalyn clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering at the thought. “It would’ve killed you.”
“Probably not. But it definitely would’ve knocked me unconscious long enough for him to finish the job.”
They heard sirens heading toward them.
“I told the clerk to call the cops. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Steve tilted his head sideways and looked at her. “You had the clerk call the police?”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure my oilcan throwing was going to stop the motorcycle guy, so I thought we better get reinforcements here as soon as possible. Is your arm okay? Let me look at it.”
She took a step toward him but stopped when he backed up. She tried not to let his actions hurt her feelings. It probably wasn’t personal. He was in pain. Trying to figure out what had happened. Cop mode.
It wasn’t long before two police cars and an ambulance were pulling up.
“Do you mind waiting by the car?” Steve asked. “It’ll be less complicated if I talk to the locals alone at first.”
“Yeah, okay.” She shrugged. “I’ll be over at the car.”
A paramedic walked up to them before she went, so Rosalyn waited. She wanted to make sure Steve was okay.
“Ma’am, were you hurt in any way?” the paramedic asked her.
“No. I was in the store, nowhere near the guy with his club.”
“Guy on a motorcycle came up, had an expandable baton.” Steve began rolling up his sleeve so he could show his injuries to the paramedic.
Rosalyn gasped when she saw his forearm. It was swollen and already turning purple.
The medic took Steve’s arm in his hand. “Can you move all your fingers without pain?”
Steve wiggled them. “Nothing sharp. Just an allover ache.”
The medic probed gently around the bruise. “It doesn’t seem to be broken, but you should probably get it x-rayed to be sure. You’re fortunate. Whoever did this was trying to do you serious harm. It could’ve shattered your arm.”
Steve nodded. “It could’ve done much worse if he had gotten me on the skull like he was aiming for.”
The medic whistled through his teeth. “Yes, for sure. Do you have any other injuries?”
“He got me across the shoulders also, but not with nearly as much force.” Steve turned so the medic could see.
“You’ll want to get these photographed so it can be used against whoever did this when they catch him,” the medic said. “But beyond that, there’s no reason for you to come with me. You’ll probably be hurting pretty bad for a few days.”
“Thanks. I’ll take care of it.” Steve turned to her. “I’m going to talk to the officer. You stay right at the car, okay?”
Rosalyn nodded and walked over to lean against the trunk. Steve went to talk to the two officers who had shown up, turning so he was facing her. She saw him pull out some sort of badge or ID and show it to the officers.
Now that she was alone and not worried for Steve’s immediate well-being, the weight of what had just happened hit her.
The Watcher had found her again.
There was no way this incident could be a c
oincidence.
But how? They had left all the clothes, with the electronic transmitters, in that superstore dressing room. The only thing she’d kept had been her notebook.
And she’d searched every single sheet of paper in it during the car ride. There had been absolutely nothing unusual.
She didn’t know how he had found her, only that he had. And Steve had almost paid the price for it right before her eyes.
Maybe she should run. Right now. Maybe if she left and got away from Steve, the Watcher would leave him alone.
She turned and put her elbows against the passenger-side window, cradling her head in her hands. What was she going to do? She was going to have the baby soon. She couldn’t keep running forever.
Especially since running didn’t seem to matter. The Watcher found her no matter where she went. The only place he hadn’t found her was at the Ammonses’ house. Or if he had, he’d never made his presence known.
Rosalyn turned and glanced at Steve. He was still talking to the officers, but he was looking at her. One of the men nodded at whatever Steve was saying and looked at Rosalyn too. The other gave something to Steve that he put in his pocket. Steve shook hands with both men again and began walking toward the car.
“You seem pretty upset. Are you okay?” he asked her.
Rosalyn laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. Was she okay? No. She wasn’t certain she was ever going to be okay. “No, I’m definitely not okay.”
“Why? Because he didn’t succeed or because you changed your mind?”
She studied his face more carefully. His green eyes were cold. The angles of his jaw set in anger.
“What?”
“I saw you looking at the guy on the motorcycle. You were looking at both of us right before he hit me.”
She shook her head, trying to process exactly what Steve was implying. “Yeah, I noticed him, but I didn’t think anything of it.”
He took a step closer to her, his height intimidating rather than comforting. “Why were you studying me so intensely from inside the convenience store, then?”
“I was trying to figure out which candy bar to get you.” Her words were small. They sounded ridiculous even to her own ears.
“You called someone earlier, someone you didn’t want me to know about. Was that him? The Watcher? Are you working together?”
Rosalyn could feel the blood leaving her face. “Wh-what?”
He grabbed her arm with his good hand. “Did you decide you didn’t want me dead at the last minute? Did you change your mind? Is that why you made that horrified face in the store and tipped me off?”
“I made the face because I saw he was going to hit you—”
“Which was the plan all along, right? Except you had some sort of change of heart and decided to tip me off. If you hadn’t made that face, I have to admit, I’d be dead now.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No. No, I didn’t know what he was going to do until he flicked out that stick thing—”
“Really? You expect me to believe he just happened to find us right after you just happened to make a secret call at lunch today? Is that why you had me stop here when we were so close to Colorado Springs?”
“No. Steve, I—”
He took a step back. “You know what? Save it. We’ll do official questioning when I get you into the Critical Response office.”
“The what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he pulled a set of handcuffs out of his pocket. That’s what the officer had handed him. Rosalyn looked over at them. They were watching her and Steve. Evidently he had already told them why he would need the handcuffs.
Almost as if from a distance, she felt a cuff slip around one wrist, then the other.
“Rosalyn Mellinger, you’re under arrest.”
Chapter Fourteen
She was playing him. Had to have been this entire time. There was no other explanation for it.
Steve could feel the anger coursing through his body. Not just at Rosalyn, although he was plenty pissed at her, but at himself also.
She’d taken him as an easy mark once, six months ago, and obviously had found he was still just as dense even after being fooled by her before.
Even worse? He still wanted to believe her now. That the crushed look on her face was real, that he’d made a mistake in slipping her into handcuffs.
But damned if he’d let himself fall prey to her for a third time.
And the baby... He couldn’t even think about that right now.
She had to be playing him. Had to be conspiring with the Watcher. There were no tracking devices anywhere on either of them. He had meticulously searched her clothes, his, her notebook and wallet and found nothing.
He’d watched mile after mile in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. There was no way any one vehicle—hell, even two or three taking turns—could’ve followed without his knowing. Steve had been watching. No one had tailed them.
The only suspicious happening since they’d left Pensacola had been Rosalyn’s call to the Ammonses. To a couple she’d previously stated had no phone in their house.
How exactly did you call someone who didn’t have a phone?
You didn’t.
But you could be calling a partner you were working with. Tip him off about where you were going. She might not have been able to give her partner specifics, but she could get him close enough that he could start tailing without Steve’s awareness.
He remembered her head against the telephone cradle at lunch today. The same guilty expression she’d had while standing over at the car while he’d been talking to the local cops.
Like she felt bad for tipping her partner off, then felt bad again that Steve had been hurt.
He should be thankful for her guilty conscience. Without it, he would be dead.
Or maybe—if he was willing to give Rosalyn a slight benefit of the doubt—maybe she hadn’t known exactly what her partner’s plan was. Maybe she hadn’t known the plan was to kill Steve outright.
Maybe she was a thief and a con but not a murderer.
The thought made him feel slightly better, which made him even angrier, which made his arm hurt like a bitch. Steve gritted his teeth. He’d have to take some aspirin when he got to Omega HQ, because he wasn’t going anywhere else but there.
Not giving Rosalyn any chance to escape. He could’ve sworn she was about to run while he was talking to the cops. Maybe she’d known he was onto her.
He was surprised she didn’t try to plead her case while it was just the two of them in the car. She had to know that once other people were involved—people not so blinded by their obvious gullibility for her like Steve—it would be harder for her to fool them. To fool him.
But she hadn’t said anything. Not a single word since he’d put the cuffs on her. Hadn’t gotten angry. Hadn’t cried. Hadn’t reasoned with him.
If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve said she’d just shut down. Even now, she had her arms wrapped protectively around herself, around the baby. She was looking straight ahead, but it didn’t seem like she saw anything.
Obviously she hadn’t thought he would figure it out. At least not this soon.
There was only one thing Steve knew for absolute certain. He was going to get some answers. Maybe he couldn’t trust his own judgment around Rosalyn. Was too close to her.
But he was taking her to Omega’s Critical Response Division. He had some of the best profilers and behavioral analysts in the entire world working on his team. He might not be able to get to the truth with Rosalyn.
But they would.
* * *
STEVE SAW ROSALYN perk up a little when he pulled into the Omega complex. Obviously she hadn’t been expecting him to
take her somewhere as sophisticated as his unit.
That’s right, sweetheart—you didn’t just pick some local yokel to mess with. You’re in the big leagues now.
“Not what you were expecting?”
She looked over at him. “I don’t know what you think I was expecting, but no, this wasn’t it.” She turned back to look out the window. Her hands were rubbing at the handcuffs on her wrist.
He wondered if she wished she’d chosen her mark better. Or maybe getting some sort of information about Omega had been her plan all along.
He steeled himself against any softness toward her. He couldn’t allow her to get the upper hand again. The cuffs were probably overkill, but it was a necessary reminder—for both of them—that she was a criminal.
When Steve walked in through the front door with Rosalyn, the guards did a double take. They were probably equally as disconcerted to see Steve in a casual shirt and jeans as they were to see him bringing in a prisoner. Neither were commonplace for Steve.
He went through standard procedures to enter the building, ID scan, weapon check-in. He signed in Rosalyn as being in his custody and walked her through the metal detector. She set it off, of course, because of the handcuffs.
The guard looked uncomfortable. “Um, protocol says we scan all prisoners entering the building, Mr. Drackett.”
“That’s fine.” Steve didn’t really like it, but damned if he’d give her preferential treatment.
Rosalyn raised her cuffed hands in front of her face so the guard could use the wand to run up the front of her body, then down the back. Nothing else set off the detector.
Steve had to admit he was a little relieved. If she’d had a hidden cell phone or weapon on her, he would’ve never been able to trust his own judgment again.
The guard allowed them through and he took Rosalyn’s arm to the elevator and into the division offices.
As soon as he walked into the large open area that housed most of the desks of the Critical Response Division, Steve knew he had made a mistake. He should not have paraded Rosalyn in like this. He should’ve let the locals handle her arrest. There were going to be too many people with too many questions about who Rosalyn was and what was going on.
