by Lisa Childs
The teenager’s tough facade crumbled as tears rolled down his dirty face. “I don’t know nothing!”
“You’re driving a truck that ran my pregnant wife off the road a day ago,” Logan said. He’d felt so helpless—so angry—that he hadn’t been there, that he hadn’t protected the woman he loved. Candace had. But he should have been there.
“I didn’t run nobody off the road,” the kid said. “I just had to follow that SUV.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I got paid to.” He moved his hand toward his pocket. But Logan grabbed him.
He checked the pocket himself. He didn’t expect a gun, or the kid would have already pulled it. But he could have carried a knife. Instead Logan found some crisp bills. Two hundreds. Frank Campanelli wouldn’t have done anything for that amount. Maybe, like so many older executives, he’d been replaced with a kid who would work cheap.
“Is that how much you got paid for the other day—for trying to kill a little boy?”
The kid shook his head, and his knit cap slid off his greasy hair. “I’m no killer. I just got paid to drive the truck.”
To be the diversion. Logan’s guts knotted, and he glanced at Parker, who was back on his cell.
“Who paid you?” Logan asked.
The kid shrugged. “I don’t know ’im.”
“A man?”
“I think so,” the kid replied.
“Tall? Thin? White? Black?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know...”
“This person gave you two hundred dollars and you didn’t notice anything about him?”
“He was wearing a hoodie and big glasses and talked really funny,” the kid said. “He even had on gloves.”
So there would be no fingerprints besides the kid’s inside the truck, which Logan had already discovered was reported stolen. The police were on their way to pick up the kid for driving a stolen truck. That was probably the only thing they’d be able to charge him with, though.
The tears surged again, streaming down the boy’s face. “I wish I could tell you more...”
So did Logan. “Why’d you turn around?” he asked.
“The person told me to—”
Logan patted down the kid’s pockets again. “He was talking to you? Through a cell?”
“No, he said I just had to follow the SUV for a few miles—then I could turn around...”
Because the killer—the real killer—had known Milek wouldn’t be out alone, that he would have someone following him. The kid hadn’t made him, but the killer had known he’d be there. And he’d wanted to get rid of him.
“Son of a bitch,” Logan murmured.
“I’m sorry.” The kid sobbed. “I’m so sorry...”
So was Logan when Parker shook his head again. Milek still wasn’t answering his phone. That wasn’t good. That meant something had happened. Something bad.
* * *
“Are you all right?” Milek asked again—but for a different reason than when they’d first entered the parking structure.
Glass had rained in on them. Fragments sparkled in Amber’s hair. He reached out to brush it away, but the sharp edges cut into his skin.
“Don’t,” she said. “You’ll get cut.”
He snorted. He wasn’t worried about the glass—not after the barrage of bullets that had been fired into the SUV. “Are you okay? Did you get hit?”
She paused a moment and stared down at her body—as if she had to visually inspect it because she couldn’t feel it.
Fear constricted his heart. Had a bullet gone through her seat? Into her spine? Hadn’t he shoved her below the dash in time?
“Amber!”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Did you hit him?” She swiveled in her seat and looked out the rear window.
All the glass was gone. And so was the shooter.
Milek had returned fire. He hoped like hell one of his shots had connected. If the killer was injured...
Maybe they’d be able to track down the son of a bitch; they’d tracked down Campanelli—through his doctor. Dr. Gunz had been arrested, though. This guy would have to find another corrupt physician. Milek reached for the door handle, but as he did, he heard another gun cock.
“Hands where I can see them,” a security guard told him.
Milek moved his hands to the steering wheel. Fortunately he’d holstered his gun after seeing the shooter was gone. Otherwise the nervous guard might have shot him.
“Don’t move, don’t move,” the older man said.
Milek wasn’t entirely certain the man wouldn’t shoot him yet. Then tires squealed as more vehicles careened into the structure.
And a familiar man alighted from an SUV. “Put down your gun,” Agent Rus told the guard as he flashed his badge at him. His breath hissed through his teeth as he inspected the shot-up vehicle. “Are you both all right?”
Milek still wasn’t certain Amber hadn’t been hit. While he saw no blood, she was so quiet. Maybe she was in shock. “You should call for an ambulance,” he said. “We should bring her in.”
“I’m supposed to,” Rus said. “I’ve been told to take her to the police department.”
“You found Brad Jipping?” Amber asked, and finally she moved, leaning across the console and Milek in order to speak to Agent Rus.
Rus shook his head. “Not yet.”
Maybe when they did, he would have one of Milek’s slugs in him. Maybe the nightmare Amber had been living would finally be over.
“If you haven’t found him, why are you supposed to bring me in?” Amber asked.
“The interim district attorney filed charges against you,” Agent Rus said.
“What charges?” Milek asked the question in disbelief. What the hell was going on?
“Obstruction of justice,” Rus said. “She also wants to question you on suspicion of murder.”
“Gregory?” Amber asked.
Rus nodded.
Milek pushed open the driver’s door and shoved the FBI agent back. “I thought you’d realized you were wrong about that! That she had nothing to do with Schievink’s death!”
“I didn’t ask her to file these charges,” Rus replied. “I had no idea they were coming...”
The DA had blindsided him. She obviously had a vendetta against Amber. Maybe Amber had been right about her after all. It hadn’t been enough for Reynolds to get Schievink’s job. She wanted to destroy Amber entirely. Maybe that was how she thought she would hang on to the position when it came up for election—by eliminating her competition.
“She’s even bringing Amber in to question her about Campanelli’s murder.”
Milek snorted. “Well, Amber has witnesses and surveillance footage to prove she was nowhere near the nightclub. There’s nothing to tie her to Frank’s death.”
“There’s you,” Nick said.
“Ballistics will prove—”
“Ballistics aren’t back yet,” Rus said. “I have to bring her in.” He withdrew his handcuffs. “And I’ve been told to do it by the book.”
Milek cursed him.
“It’s all right,” Amber said.
But it wasn’t. Seeing her being handcuffed and put into the back of a police vehicle took Milek back all those years ago to when Stacy and Garek had been arrested along with him—for something he’d done. They hadn’t been responsible—just as Amber was not responsible for anything she was being charged with.
And, just like then, guilt overwhelmed him. Logically he knew none of what happened was his fault. He hadn’t killed Schievink or Frank—no matter how much he might have wanted to. But he hadn’t protected Amber, either. He hadn’t been there when she needed him.
Before Rus closed the door on her, she met Milek’s gaze and impl
ored him, “Take care of our son.”
He nodded. He would take care of Michael. But he intended to take care of her, too. He’d make sure she was cleared of all these ridiculous charges. And he’d make sure the real guilty person paid for all the hell he or she had put Amber through...
* * *
“I wanted to talk to you,” Amber admitted.
“That’s why you faked your death and have been living under an assumed name for the past year?” Evelyn asked facetiously. The lawyer was cocky—because she’d always thought she was better than she actually was, that she was better than everyone else.
“I did it to stay alive,” Amber replied.
Evelyn shook her head, but not a single blond hair strayed from her tight bun. “It doesn’t seem like you’re the one who has trouble staying alive, but everyone else around you...”
Amber laughed at how obtuse the woman was being. “You had me picked up at the scene of the latest attempt on my life. How can you deny I’m in danger? You have Frank Campanelli’s hit list with my name on it.”
And Michael’s. Fear tore at her heart. Her son was safe. He had his father now. Finally...
Milek wouldn’t let anything happen to their little boy. He would protect him with his life. Not that she wanted to lose Milek, either. Again.
Still.
Evelyn shrugged her bony shoulders. The woman was thin—thinner than Amber remembered, almost as if she never ate or was too stressed to keep anything down if she did. Stressed with guilt, or the job she really wasn’t qualified to handle?
“We have no proof that’s Campanelli’s book,” she said. With a sneer, she added, “Especially since your baby daddy was the one who brought it in to the authorities.”
Everyone was always so quick to think the worst of Milek and his family. Hadn’t they proved themselves yet? They were not the men their father and uncle had been. They weren’t thieves; they were honorable people who saved lives and brought real criminals to justice. Apparently Evelyn knew nothing about that. But then, she hadn’t been able to prosecute Viktor Chekov because he’d confessed and worked out his deal with Nick Rus.
“You’re a fool,” Amber told her former colleague. But she actually hoped that was all Evelyn was. A fool and not another link in the chain of corruption in River City.
Evelyn’s pinched face flushed with anger. “How dare you—”
“How dare you,” Amber replied, “pretend to know what you’re doing. You should be doing everything in your power to authenticate that book. It’s a gold mine of evidence linking Frank Campanelli to a slew of unsolved murders.”
“Trying to get your job back?” Evelyn asked.
Amber shook her head. “I don’t want my job back,” she said with sudden realization. “I want yours.”
“Are you going to have me killed?” Evelyn asked. “Like you had Gregory killed?”
Amber shook her head. “I don’t need to kill anyone. I just have to wait for the next election and prove how incompetent you are at this job.”
Evelyn’s face turned a brighter shade of red.
Maybe inciting her temper wasn’t Amber’s smartest course of action. But if she made Evelyn angry enough, maybe the woman would let something slip—would reveal how much she hated Amber—enough to try to kill her even after she’d no longer posed a threat to her job.
“You’re never going to get this job,” Evelyn told her, her voice sharp with an icy rage.
“Why’s that?” Amber asked. “You’re going to keep hiring hit men until one of them actually succeeds at killing me like Frank Campanelli killed Gregory for you?”
Now all the color drained from Evelyn’s face. “You’re accusing me of his murder?”
“You’re the one who gained the most,” Amber pointed out. She should have realized that before. “The mayor appointed you to fill this position until the next election. Is that why you’re trying to have me killed? So I can’t run against you?”
But why Michael?
Why would she want to hurt an innocent child? Surely even Evelyn wasn’t that vicious.
“I welcome you to run against me,” Evelyn challenged her, “because you’re never going to get this job.”
Yes, the blond attorney still thought she was the smartest one in the room.
“Why’s that?” Amber asked.
“Because of your association with known criminals,” Evelyn replied. “With a killer...”
“Your charges are ridiculous,” Amber said. “I never associated with Frank Campanelli.”
“I wasn’t talking about him. The father of your kid is a convicted killer,” Evelyn said. “You think that’s going to win you any votes?” The woman shook her head again—pityingly. “I don’t need to kill you to keep my job.”
Amber shook her head. “You’re delusional if you think you’re going to keep it after having me arrested for obstruction of justice.”
During the drive to the police station, Agent Rus had assured Amber that he would go over the DA’s head to have the charges dropped. Since he’d helped her fake her death, she’d been under federal protection. She glanced to the door of the interrogation room. Where was he?
She’d been fingerprinted and processed and brought into this tiny room for questioning. Evelyn had even Mirandized her and asked if she wanted a lawyer.
“You were a suspect in Gregory’s murder,” Evelyn said. “And instead of staying to face possible charges, you fled.”
“I fled to save my life and my son’s,” Amber said. “I had nothing to do with Gregory’s death, and you know that or you would have brought charges against me for it.”
Evelyn’s already beady eyes narrowed as she studied Amber’s face. “Really? You had motive.”
“You’re the one who has his job,” Amber pointed out.
“Your motive wasn’t his job,” Evelyn said. “It was revenge.”
It might have been—had she known the things he’d told Milek, that he’d claimed her baby was his. She’d known Gregory had found her attractive, but she hadn’t known the attraction had gone further than that. Had he been obsessed with her?
“Revenge?”
“He wouldn’t leave his wife for you,” Evelyn said. “Apparently you got tired of waiting any longer for him to keep his promise to you. So you killed him.”
Amber laughed. “You’re definitely delusional. There was nothing going on between Gregory and me.”
Evelyn snorted now. “That’s why you got all the best cases.”
She had gotten all the best cases, but that wasn’t because she’d been sleeping with him. But maybe it had been because he’d wanted to sleep with her. And Amber had just thought she was the best assistant DA for the job. Maybe she was more like Evelyn than she’d thought; maybe she thought she was better than she was.
But then, she’d won those cases. She’d won the case against Brad Jipping’s son and sent him to prison, where the young man had killed himself.
“I was not having an affair with our boss,” Amber said. She understood now how Milek felt having people talk about him, act as if they knew him based on rumors and unearned reputations.
“His wife says otherwise,” Evelyn said. “She knows he chose her over you and that you weren’t happy about it.”
What the hell had Gregory told his wife? Had he lied to her the way he’d lied to Milek?
Why? For what purpose?
“She’s wrong,” Amber said. “And whatever she says will be hearsay only, so you don’t have a case against me. Drop the charges now before you embarrass yourself any further.”
“I’m not the one who’ll be embarrassed,” Evelyn said. She stood up and opened the door to the interrogation room. To the uniformed officer standing in the hall, she said, “Bring her down to holding until she’s arr
aigned and bail can be set.”
“Evelyn—”
“You might have some trouble making bail, huh?” Evelyn taunted. “Heard you weren’t doing much this past year.”
How had she known what Amber had been doing? Was she the one who’d hired Frank Campanelli?
“But maybe your boyfriend can steal something to make your bail,” Evelyn said.
She’d already called the woman delusional. Now she called her something else.
Evelyn’s hand connected with her face with so much force that Amber’s head snapped back. Instead of being mad, she smiled. “Oh, I will definitely have your job.”
The interim DA glanced nervously at the guard, who could not have missed the slap. “Take her down to the holding cell!”
Amber hadn’t thought it would go this far. Where was Rus? Why hadn’t he gotten the charges dropped yet?
“It’s late,” Evelyn said. “So even if your boyfriend can make bail for you, you’ll probably have to spend the night behind bars—waiting for arraignment.”
That was what Evelyn wanted. To embarrass and maybe to endanger Amber...
Moments later the cell door slid closed with Amber where she’d never expected to find herself—with criminals she would have been getting ready to prosecute had she not been forced to leave her job.
Her life.
The cell was crowded. At least ten other women were in the cell, some sleeping on cots, some pacing...as Amber wanted to pace.
Nicholas Rus had to come through for her and keep his promise to free her.
A woman stepped into Amber’s path, stopping her. “You’re that lady lawyer,” she said. “The one who’s been all over the news.”
Amber breathed a slight sigh of relief. That was the only reason the woman had recognized her—because of the media coverage.
“Don’t you know me?” the woman asked.
“Should I?”
“You prosecuted me two years ago,” the woman said as she stepped closer. She was big—far bigger than Amber. Taller and heavier and strong.
