by Beverly Long
“How long will that take?” Liz asked.
“Probably a day or so. You two can go back now. Take the car. I think it will still run.”
“It’s over?” Mary asked.
“This part is over. I still need your testimony.”
Mary nodded. “I want the bastard to pay. He was going to let that woman cut my baby out.”
“You’ll testify about the murder you saw?”
Mary didn’t say anything for a full minute. She just stared at the ground. Then she looked at Liz. “Dantel said he’d kill me,” she said, her voice very soft. “He said he’d kill you, too. He sent you that letter just to scare you. And he shot up your office just so we’d both know he was serious and that he could get to us anytime he wanted. He had the bomb put there, too. I don’t know how but he did it. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Liz assured her. “He’ll be in jail.”
God willing, Sawyer thought. God and a smart jury. His gang would still be on the prowl. Sawyer wondered if Liz had any idea the risk Mary was taking. He should tell her.
“He beat that man and killed him,” Mary said. “He was laughing while he did it. The guy was screaming and crying, and there was blood everywhere.”
Hell, maybe he ought to do everybody a favor and manage to drop Mirandez in the Wisconsin River. With a fifty-pound sack of cement around his neck.
But he wouldn’t. Even given the number of times he’d seen the system fail the community it served, Sawyer still believed in it. Believed that if he did his job right, the next guy would do the same, and so on. It was what separated them from the animals, both the four-legged and the two-legged like Mirandez.
Right now what he wanted most in the world was to take Liz into his arms. But he knew that couldn’t happen. Even with Mirandez in custody, it wouldn’t be fair to Liz to pursue a relationship. He didn’t intend to offer marriage. He couldn’t offer children. He needed to make a clean break of it now.
“I’m going to be pretty busy for a few days. He’ll need to be processed.”
Liz nodded.
“I need your written statement,” Sawyer said to Mary.
“Now?”
“That would be best.” He pulled the ever-present notebook out of his shirt pocket.
“Don’t I have to sign a form or something?”
“You write it, date it and sign it. I’ve accepted statements written on crumpled-up paper towels. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. What matters is what it says.”
Mary assessed him for a long moment. “You know, you’re not so bad for a cop.”
Didn’t rank up there with Liz looking at him as if he walked on water but it still made him feel real fine. “You’re not so bad yourself. What are you two going to do when you get back to town?”
Mary was back to her shrugging.
Liz saw it, too. “Mary, I want you to stay with me. For at least a couple of days.”
He didn’t miss the pure relief that crossed Mary’s face. It reminded him of how much of a kid she really was. That didn’t stop him from wishing that Liz hadn’t made the offer. Mary attracted trouble. He didn’t want Liz getting caught in the cross fire. He wouldn’t be there to protect her.
“Your car should drive fine even though Mirandez did dent it up a little. I’m going to call Robert and ask him to meet you at your apartment. Just to make sure it’s still secure.”
“What?” Liz looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“I think we have a good chance that the judge will deny Mirandez bail. He’s clearly a flight risk. We’ll keep the lid on the fact that Mary’s going to put him in the hot seat. Given that he still thinks Mary’s pregnant with his baby, she’s probably safe for now. You, too. But I don’t want to take any chances. I’d feel better if Robert meets you there.”
“Oh.”
He knew immediately that if it were just her, she’d argue until she turned blue. But she wouldn’t take a risk with Mary.
“You remember him, right?”
She nodded. “It’s just a bit embarrassing.”
“What?”
“The last time I saw Robert, I wasn’t exactly dressed for success.”
Sawyer remembered exactly how she’d been dressed. Or mostly undressed. He’d bet his last dime Robert did, too. “He won’t even mention it.” Sawyer would make damn sure of that.
Chapter Twelve
Liz was an hour from home when her cell phone rang. She answered it, keeping one hand on the wheel. “Hello.”
“Everything okay?”
She’d left Sawyer more than two hours ago. Capable Sawyer clearly didn’t like having things out of his immediate control and he probably figured he was due an update. “We’re fine. No trouble.”
“Good,” he said.
The relief in his voice made her insides do funny little jumps. Slow down, girl. He’s a cop. With a misguided sense of responsibility.
“I called Jamison and told him everything,” Liz said. “Now that Dantel Mirandez is in police custody, he wants to reopen OCM, especially since we know Mirandez sent that letter to me. Do you have any concerns about that?”
Sawyer didn’t answer right away. When he did, he didn’t sound too happy. “I guess not,” he said. “There’s always some risk. But I don’t think we can expect the man to keep his business closed forever.”
“He’ll be glad to hear that.”
“I suppose you’re planning on going back right away?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
He sighed. “By the way, I talked to Robert. Pull into the alley behind your building. He’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.”
“If you don’t see him right away, don’t get out of the car. Just keep driving until you get to the closest police station. And call me.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“I know. It just doesn’t hurt to have a plan B.”
She imagined Capable Sawyer always had a plan B. “Mary has slept most of the way.”
“That’s good. By the way, I read her statement again. She did a good job. Lots of detail that will be helpful. Just remember, when she wakes up, remind her not to tell anyone that Mirandez isn’t the father. That’s the best protection she has right now.”
“What happens when she delivers within a couple weeks and it’s obvious the baby is full-term? What happens if Dantel tries to claim that he’s the father?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, he surprised her. “If Mary’s telling the truth, a simple blood test will rule out Mirandez’s claim. Of course, then her life won’t be worth the paper that the test is printed on. When Mirandez finds out that she’s going to testify against him, she’s going to be in real trouble.”
“What is she going to do?”
“She’s going to have to get out of town, Liz.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No. Don’t say anything to her yet. I don’t want her freaking out.”
Liz gave Mary a quick glance. The girl snored, her head at a strange angle against the headrest.
“Well, I’m freaking out. She hasn’t signed adoption paperwork yet. What if she decides to keep her baby? She can’t just go off on her own with a newborn. She’s going to need help.”
“That can be arranged.”
Liz realized with a sinking heart that he’d had time to think it through. He’d known from the moment Mary confessed that this was how it had to end. Liz stepped on the gas a bit harder, wishing it was his head. “You should have told her. Before she confessed that she’d been there. You should have told her that her life would never be the same again.”
“We need her. She’s the one who can put Mirandez away. I never pretended anything—”
“But leaving town?” Liz interrupted. “That’s huge. It means...it means I’ll never see her again.”
There, she’d said it. She didn’t want to lose Mary.
For a minute, she thought he’d hung up. There was absolutely no noise on the other end of the phone. When he did speak, he sounded a bit strange. “Liz, I’m sorry. I probably should have said something. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t give Mary a reason to not do the right thing. A man died that night. Mirandez killed him, and he needs to pay for that. I know this is tough. But Mary would have drifted out of your life sooner or later. This way you’ll know she’s safe.”
She absolutely hated that he made sense.
She wanted to hang on to her anger, to somehow let it soothe the pain of loss. But really the person to be angry at was Dantel Mirandez. It wasn’t Sawyer’s fault. “So, this is real-life witness-protection stuff?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t just happen on the television shows.”
“She’s not going to take this well.”
“Don’t tell her yet. I just wanted you to have a chance to hear it first. When I get back to town, we’ll tell her together.”
She let up on the gas, and her stomach started doing those funny little jumps again. “Thank you, Sawyer.” It sounded awfully inadequate, but she couldn’t yet verbalize her feelings. They were too fresh, too unexpected, too much.
“It’ll be okay, Liz. I promise. Just trust me on this one.”
“I’ve always trusted you, Sawyer.” Even before I loved you.
She jerked the wheel when the right-side tires swerved off the highway.
She felt hot and cold and sort of dizzy. “Traffic’s picking up,” she said. “I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Be careful. Please.”
Careful? It was a little late for that. She’d fallen in love with Sawyer Montgomery.
Forty-five minutes later, she pulled into the alley and found her regular parking space. She’d barely turned the car off when someone tapped on her window. Even though she’d been expecting Detective Hanson, she still jumped several feet.
He smiled at her, but when a blue car pulled into the alley and headed toward them, his smile and easy demeanor vanished. “Get as close to the other door as you can. Lie down on the seat,” he ordered.
Liz did as she was told, grateful that Mary still slept, slumped down in the seat. She saw that Detective Hanson had left the car door open and moved behind it. He had his gun out.
Liz held her breath and waited for the shots. All she heard was the engine of a car badly in need of a tune-up. It sounded as if it never even slowed down as it went past.
“It’s okay.” Detective Montgomery stood up. “Two old ladies. Both with blue hair.”
Liz laughed. “Not part of Mirandez’s gang?”
“I doubt it.” He looked at Mary. “She sleep all the way here?”
“Yes. I don’t think she’s had much sleep the past couple of days.”
“Let’s get her inside. Street is pretty quiet. I’ve been here for about fifteen minutes and haven’t seen anything unusual. I don’t expect any trouble.”
“Okay. Mary.” Liz leaned over to tap the girl on her shoulder. “Wake up, sweetie. We’re home.”
Mary’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at Liz first, then at Detective Hanson. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Detective Robert Hanson.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember you. You were with Detective Montgomery. I guess you’re the babysitter?”
Detective Hanson didn’t look particularly offended. “I’ll bet you can’t wait for my microwave popcorn.”
Mary snorted.
He ignored it. “Let’s go,” he said. “Stay close. Do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it.”
Liz knew the past several days had taken their toll on Mary when she didn’t argue with Robert.
They got inside without incident. Robert checked each of the rooms. Mary stood in the kitchen, waiting for him to finish. When he did, she gave Liz a hug and went off to sleep in the spare bedroom. Liz gave her an extra blanket and shut the door behind her. Then she sank down onto her couch, loving the feel of the leather fabric. It was good to be home.
“Can I ask you something, Ms. Mayfield?” Detective Hanson asked. He stood near the kitchen counter. “How is Sawyer?”
“Stubborn. Bossy. Opinionated.” She held up three fingers and ticked off the list.
Robert rubbed his hands together. “I knew it. I knew it from the first day I saw the two of you together. Like a match and dry kindling.”
“Oh, but we’re not...” She stopped, unwilling to share the private details of her relationship.
Robert laughed. A quiet chuckle. “Well, I hope you are soon. Otherwise, he’s going to be a real pain in the ass to work with.”
* * *
WHEN THE PHONE RANG late that night, Liz practically vaulted off the couch. The apartment had gotten very quiet after Robert had left and Mary had gone to bed. “Hello?”
“Ms. Mayfield?”
She didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes.”
“This is Geri Heffers from Melliertz Hospital. Melissa Stroud asked me to call you. She had a baby girl tonight.”
Melissa. She wasn’t due for another week. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I understand you’re Melissa’s counselor and that you’ve been helping her arrange for an adoption. She’s going to be released the day after tomorrow.”
Liz knew what that meant. Melissa needed to sign the paperwork before she left the hospital. According to state law, she’d have seventy-two hours to change her mind. The baby would either stay in the hospital or be released to temporary care in a foster home until that time period elapsed. Only then could she go to the adoptive parents.
“I’ll be there tomorrow. I’ll come late afternoon.” Liz promised the nurse and hung up. She dialed Howard’s number from memory.
When he answered, she didn’t waste words. “Howard, it’s Liz. Melissa Stroud had her baby today at Melliertz. It’s a girl. Healthy. She wants to sign papers tomorrow. Can you meet me there around four in the afternoon?”
“Excellent. The Thompsons really wanted a girl.”
“The Thompsons? I thought Mike and Mindy Partridge were the adopting parents.”
“No, they wanted to wait another couple months. Mike’s traveling a lot these days.”
“Have I met the Thompsons?”
“No. But they’re great. I’ve done a full background check. You couldn’t ask for better. I’ve talked to Jamison about them.”
She didn’t like it when she hadn’t met the adopting parents. This had happened before. But when she’d mentioned something to Jamison, he’d told her not to worry about it and that he trusted Howard’s judgment. “I’d like to see the background report,” she said.
“Oh, sure,” Howard said. “I’ll bring it with me to the hospital.”
Liz hung up the phone and went to check on Mary. She’d been right. It looked as though Mary would sleep through the night. The pregnancy, the worry, it had worn out the young girl.
Liz wished for just a bit of Mary’s sleepiness. She turned on the television. Ten minutes and bits and pieces of three sitcoms later, she turned it off. She picked up a new magazine that had been waiting for her in the mailbox. Flipping page by page, she got halfway through it before she admitted defeat.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Sawyer. What was he doing? Was he still interrogating Mirandez? Had he had dinner? Had he returned to the cabin? Had he gone to bed?
That was where her thoughts got her into trouble. She wondered if he slept in underwear. She didn’t have to imagine whether he wore basic white. That little puzzle had been solved when he’d greeted her at the door wit
h a gun and a pair of unsnapped jeans.
She’d been so darn busy looking at his zipper and the equipment underneath that she’d barely given the gun more than a passing thought. She hadn’t worried that Sawyer would shoot her. Capable Sawyer didn’t make mistakes like that.
Robert thought they were like a match and dry kindling. What he didn’t know was that with a few choice words about responsibility and professionalism, Sawyer had effectively doused the flames, looking every bit like a man afraid of fire.
It made her wonder exactly what or who had burned Sawyer in the past. She’d wanted to ask Robert but knew it would be useless. Sawyer was his friend. He would guard his secrets.
Why hadn’t Sawyer called? He’d said he might call, not that he would call. Why would he call? When she picked up a paper and pen, no longer content to silently argue with herself, and actually started to make a list of whys and why nots, she knew she’d gone around the bend.
Nothing would ever be the way it was before she’d met Sawyer. Heck, she’d never even be able to enjoy a big bowl of gumbo again. If she saw flowering vines climbing up a wrought-iron railing, she’d probably burst into tears. She’d never be able to go south of the Mason–Dixon line again.
Liz got up and walked over to the shelf where she kept her favorite CDs she’d purchased years ago. She pulled out two, walked into her kitchen, opened the cabinet door under her sink and dumped them into the trash.
She was done with New Orleans jazz.
She returned to the couch and reached an arm toward the light switch. She might not sleep, but at least she could brood in the dark.
* * *
LIZ ALMOST SLEPT through her appointment with Howard. She had gotten up once, around nine, and fixed breakfast for Mary. She steered Mary toward the television and then went back to bed. When she woke up the second time, she had a headache, a stuffy nose and a sore throat. As irrational as it was, she blamed Sawyer.
She showered and got dressed as fast as her ailing body allowed. She walked out to the kitchen and poured half a glass of orange juice. Her throat was so sore she knew she’d be lucky to get it down. “You doing okay, Mary?”
