by Robin Perini
The phone vibrated in her hand and started playing an unrecognizable tune.
“Turn that thing down, bud. You want to make everyone sick with that stupid fight song?”
Emily’s gaze flew toward the voice. A striking-looking man walked toward Mitch, grinning and holding a cell in his hand.
“You never did have good taste, Ian.”
Ian tapped his phone and Mitch’s stopped ringing. His tension eased, and he smiled in a way she’d never seen. He looked at this man with complete trust and confidence. As the strong friendship between the two men became clear, Emily had never felt more alone. Mitch had connections. She’d witnessed the trust when he’d spoken to a few of the cops. Without hearing a word, the camaraderie between them spoke volumes. How could Mitch ever be totally on her side? He’d saved her life, yes. But he was loyal to them. She should remember that.
“Did you find me a ride?” Mitch said.
Ian grinned with a mischievous glint deep in his eyes.
“Your brother Noah’s SUV. He won’t miss it.”
“True. After that last big software deal, he went nuts and bought the Hummer. He’s got five cars now.”
Mitch tried to pluck the keys from his friend’s hand, but Ian closed his fist. His face turned serious. “It’s not every day my best friend’s car gets blown to smithereens. What’s up, bud?”
Emily’s body tensed. How would Mitch respond? Had he believed her?
He looked around at the few cops who still stood near them. “Not now.”
The vise around Emily’s heart eased a bit. He might. He just might be on her side.
“Then I’m not leaving,” Ian said, the keys still in his grip.
Emily recognized the tick in Mitch’s jaw. She’d seen it when Ghost had cut the girl, and when he’d studied the pictures of the children on her wall. Friends were too precious. She couldn’t be the cause of problems between them.
“It’s my fault,” Emily said quietly, stepping into their circle. She held out her hand. “Emily Wentworth.”
At the mention of her name, Ian paused, the openness in his face evaporating. He reached out his hand to hers. “I’ve followed your case. Ian Archer. I’m the investigator for the coroner’s office.”
He’d probably studied the accident. She nodded, trying to gauge his judgment. Was she a black widow to him?
“No matter what you’ve heard, I didn’t kill my husband,” she said, deciding to meet his doubts head-on. “I just want to find my son. It’s starting to look like someone doesn’t want me to.”
Ian studied her expression, and, as if he had made some decision, his face softened a bit. “I understand. I hope you find him.”
She clutched at the small opening. “Did you look into the accident? Was there anything that stood out to you?”
Ian stiffened and slid a sidelong glance to Mitch.
“Emily’s private investigator, Perry Young, indicated he had information that there might be some…irregularities in the police work. We were on our way to meet him when—”
“I see. Can I tag along?” Ian asked. “I’d be very interested in his theories.”
She could use his expertise. “Sure.”
“No,” Mitch bit out at the same time.
She whirled on him. “Why? If he can help—”
“Ian has a daughter to take care of.”
Mitch’s face was uncompromising. The friends’ gazes held, obviously communicating in a way she didn’t understand. Ian finally nodded. “Fine. See you at your dad’s for the tree trimming,” he said. He turned to Emily. “It’s nice to meet you. Good luck.”
Ian tossed the set of keys to Mitch before walking away.
“Why did you do that?” she asked. “He might know something or have suspicions about who could be involved.”
“He and my goddaughter have been through enough. Too many cops saw him here as it is, and if one of them is our mole, I don’t want him associated with a case involving missing children. Understand?”
The fierce protectiveness in his words made her tremble with regret. What had she been thinking? She had no right to bring anyone else into her nightmare. “You’re right. I’m sorry. There’s no need to put anyone else in danger.” She faced Mitch. “Detective Tanner is up that hill. Why not just give the assignment back? I don’t really need you. I have Perry. I’ll get by.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll connect with Ian later. I just don’t want to be obvious or make Haley a target.”
Back stiff, she ignored his words and started toward the crowd of cops. Mitch yanked her arm. “I’m not letting you go,” he said, tugging her against him. “You do need me. I saw the blanket. I believe you. Do you think these other men will?”
“Perry does. Keep your friends and family close, Mitch. I know what it’s like to lose them.”
“I’ll look out for mine. That doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon you. I’m in too deep.” He gave her a small smile. “Now let’s talk to Perry. He may suspect who wants you dead.”
After a quick consultation with Tanner, Mitch led her to his brother’s pristine SUV. The recently detailed smell assaulted Emily’s memories. Her last fight with Eric had been about the compact. He’d wanted to get her something new. She hadn’t wanted to risk it. He’d been furious with her, but she’d known they couldn’t afford it. They’d struggled to meet the mortgage when he’d left his father’s company. She didn’t care, but Eric hadn’t been used to budgeting or doing without. She ran her hand over the supple leather seats, and her eyes burned. This vehicle was just her husband’s style. Top of the line. All the bells and whistles.
As Mitch steered the car down the mountain, she clutched at the armrests until her fingers hurt. Her breath hitched, and a small sound escaped. She rubbed her eyes. No. She didn’t need to think about the past. She had to have faith that with Mitch and Perry she’d put what was left of her family back together.
“You okay?”
Emily cleared her throat. “I’m fine. Perry’s office is just around the corner. I don’t blame him for not waiting for us, but I wish he’d pick up.”
Mitch pulled onto a rundown street. Iron bars decorated most windows. A few unsavory characters loitered on the corners. “He’s not exactly in the garden district, is he?”
“He stayed on the case. I’m grateful.
“Just tell me you didn’t come here alone.”
“Sometimes.”
“Emily, you’ve got to start being more cautious.”
“I’ll do what I have to do to find my son, Mitch.”
One glance at her companion’s strong jawline and determined expression reminded her things had changed. Mitch believed in her. She’d given him the out, and he hadn’t taken it. He could have. Maybe, just maybe, she’d found an ally who would stick with her. And not because he received a check.
He parallel-parked and stopped the engine before twisting to face her. “I take the lead here.”
“He trusts me.”
“Precisely why I do the talking this time. I’ll put some pressure on him, but I want to know if he’s blowing smoke or not.” Mitch’s eyes grew cold, and his expression dangerous. “If we’re really dealing with a breach in the department, I want to know now.”
As charming as Mitch could be—and Emily had to admit, she liked him—he had that deadly look that she’d hate to be on the wrong side of.
They climbed up the stairs, and Emily kept a close eye on his gait. She could see a bit of strain, but he powered through the stiffness, not giving away anything. One more thing to appreciate about him—he had grit.
Mitch turned a corner. Perry’s office door was cracked open. And quiet. Mitch paused. His entire body tensed; his stance screamed alert. He leaned forward. “You ever seen the door ajar?” His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.
He pointed to the other doors down the hall. All of them were closed. She strained to remember.
“No,” she whispered. “I�
��ve always knocked.”
“Stay behind me.”
He moved in front of her and pulled a gun from beneath his jacket. With caution, he eased toward the office. His back against the wall, he slowly pushed at the wood.
He stepped through the entrance and stilled.
Emily peeked around him.
Perry Young faced them, on his knees, his face bruised, his nose bleeding, his hands behind his head.
A masked figure stood behind the PI, a gun at his head.
Perry lifted resigned eyes and met Emily’s gaze.
“Eighty-five!” he yelled.
The gun went off.
Chapter Five
Perry Young’s face exploded. Blown off too fast for Mitch to pull the trigger at the killer. He shoved Emily into the hall and aimed his Glock. “Denver police. Put the gun down. Now.”
The man leaped over Perry’s rickety desk and crashed through the window. Mitch skidded across the old wood floor, hitching through the opening onto the fire escape. The perp bounded down to the first landing and then hurtled to the ground.
Mitch eyed the distance. Too far. He took the steps as quickly as possible, cursing every one. A few months ago, he would’ve had this guy the second the assassin hit the brown, winter grass. Mitch jumped the last few stairs and landed on the turf. His leg seized, but he ignored the pain. Some kids stood staring, a soccer ball rolling across the yard. Mitch couldn’t risk a shot. He gripped his gun as the man raced past the group.
Mitch’s legs pumped hard in pursuit as the kids scattered, but the man shot off like he was used to doing hundred-yard sprints. Within seconds the killer shoved through a fence. By the time Mitch slammed open the gate, his quarry had disappeared. A motorcycle revved and peeled away, but Mitch couldn’t see anything through the thicket of trees guarding the street.
Cursing, Mitch slipped his gun back into the holster. What good was rehab if he couldn’t run down a murder suspect?
And he’d left Emily alone.
Mitch raced back to Perry’s office, using the stairs this time to preserve the scene. Expecting to see her trembling in the hallway, his gut fell when he reached the second floor. Empty. Silent.
Had the whole thing been a diversion? Had someone else been waiting to take her?
He redrew his weapon and entered the room. There she was, behind Perry’s desk, rifling through the papers. Not just papers. Evidence.
“What are you doing? This is a crime scene.”
“He’s my last connection.” Emily tore through another drawer, eyes wild with desperation, her movements frantic. “There has to be something here. Something about Joshua. The tattoo. The cops.”
Mitch limped around the desk. He tugged at her hands, enclosing them in his fists, and pulled her away from the stack of papers. “Look at me, Emily.” She raised her gaze to his, and he released one hand to let his finger run down her cheek. “Let’s go into the hall and call for the crime-scene unit.”
She tugged away from him. “Don’t treat me like I’m a fragile doll. I’m not.”
Her hand hovered over her throat as her husky voice cracked a bit—a stark reminder of just how much she’d endured.
“Perry can’t just be gone.” She stared at his body.
The killer had used a hollow point. The PI hadn’t stood a chance. Her face lost all color, but she didn’t look away.
“He told me to come alone. To tell no one.” She rounded on Mitch. “You heard him. Did you reveal to anyone where we were going? Tanner, maybe?”
The unspoken accusation hung like poison between them, her suspicions palpable. Mitch stiffened, but as he stared at what was left of Perry’s head, and the blood and brain splattered across the floor, his mind clicked through the possibilities of who might have known of their destination. Ian knew. Tanner knew. If his boss had told anyone…She had every right to be distrustful.
So did Mitch.
Until he was sure who had killed Perry and tried to kill Emily, he had to be extremely cautious. He couldn’t trust the police department. The realization skewered his gut.
Mitch guided her into the hallway, pressed close against him. “A few months ago, I would’ve ignored the suggestion someone I know could be responsible for attacking you. Or for killing Perry. Since then, the man I trusted more than anyone on the force set me up for an ambush. He caused this.” Mitch tapped his bad leg. “I’m not discounting anything anymore.” He turned Emily in his arms. “That means we’re on our own. Fewer resources to find your son until we’re certain who our friends are. Can you live with that?”
“Perry paid with his life for helping me. It’s my fault. I can’t ask you to take that same risk.”
Her voice had turned monotone. Shock had settled in.
“His death’s not your fault. Blame the guy who pulled the trigger.” He willed her to look at him until the cloudy, stunned look faded from her expression. “I will tell you one thing, though. This means Perry was onto something. He discovered a connection he shouldn’t have, and they wanted him silenced.”
Mitch pulled out his cell phone, and Emily stilled his hand.
“Who are you calling?”
“The police. I have to notify them of the shooting. No choice. If I don’t, someone else will, and we can be placed here.”
Mitch didn’t like the churning in his gut. He studied Emily’s jittery movements as he made the call. Her life was at stake. He couldn’t let her down, so he’d have to accept the weight of his deception. Until he could uncover the truth.
“They’ll be here in a few minutes. I need you to think back to every conversation you’ve had with Perry in the past month.”
Emily bit down on the side of her lip, concentrating. “He got real excited about Sister Kate’s shelter. Said things didn’t smell right there. You heard the phone call. Oh, he really wanted me to get a good look at Ghost’s tattoo.”
Pain flashed in her eyes, and she massaged her temple. Mitch had seen that look before. When he’d pushed her to remember that night, she’d had the same expression.
“You’re starting to remember,” he said.
“A red and green tattoo. Some kind of figure, I think.”
“What else did Perry tell you?” Mitch asked.
“I don’t know. I took notes. They’re at the house.”
“How about the number he yelled right before—”
Emily’s eyes cleared. “Eighty-five! His code. He talked about how when he got tidbits of information, he never wanted to be the only one who had them. He stashed them away.”
“Good for Perry. Do you know where he kept the files?”
“He told me if anything ever happened to him, to remember that a sommelier would find the files before the bad guys.”
“He hid his evidence in his wine rack?”
“I don’t know.” Panic laced her voice. “Oh, God. He never told me his hiding place.”
“What about your contract? Paperwork he gave you?”
Her vision cleared. “Maybe. He wouldn’t have just said that word without thinking I could find it, right?”
“Exactly. Let’s search for a liquor stash in his office. The guy was an alcoholic from what I gather. We’ll find it.” He glanced at his watch and held her shoulders. Mitch whistled through his teeth. “Listen to me carefully. I can’t touch the evidence in that room. Rules, you know.” He slipped on a pair of gloves that hadn’t been standard issue for him until he’d been benched from SWAT. “But your fingerprints are already on his desk. So…”
He watched her eyes widen with comprehension. She hurried back inside Perry’s office, avoiding the body on the floor, but focused. His Emily was fearless.
He followed her into the room. They rifled through papers and opened drawers, but there was nothing helpful. No wine bottles, just a half-full flask of whisky. No address of a store. He shook his head at Perry’s body. The man had a code word. That meant he had a plan. He had to have left a clue somewhere.
Sirens sc
reamed in the distance.
“We’re out of time.” Mitch tugged Emily’s hand and started toward the exit.
She tugged one last time on a last locked drawer before grabbing a letter opener and jimmying the lock. She snagged a small box containing files, notes and an unopened bottle of wine. She gave him a challenging look. He sighed, then nodded.
“What about his apartment?” she said. “Can we go there, too?”
“The investigators’ll be all over his place. We’ll stash the box in my SUV and wait for the cops downstairs. Then we go to your place and look at the evidence and your notes. Maybe we’ll get lucky. I’ll keep an eye on the investigation. If they find liquor bottles, I’ll know about it.”
“But you won’t tell Tanner, right?”
Her voice made his skin prickle. He didn’t like not trusting his colleagues. The men he’d put his life on the line for a hundred times.
“For now.”
“I CAN’T GET PERRY out of my mind,” Emily said quietly as Mitch maneuvered the SUV up the road toward her house. The image of his faceless body chilled her far more than the winter that had taken hold, or the clearing of leafless aspens poking through the surrounding pines.
They’d spent too long giving statements to the police. After a scathing lecture, Tanner had warned both of them not to leave town, informing them they were persons of interest in Perry’s execution.
She pictured his endearing face, his ruddy cheeks, the deep crow’s-feet at the corner of his eyes, the eagerness with which he came to her to give her one more bit of news. The excitement in his final phone call.
“His last words were to help me.”
“And we won’t let him down,” Mitch said. “We’ll find out what got him killed.”
“And make them pay.” She twisted in her seat. “I want them to pay for taking the life of an innocent man. He didn’t have to die.”
Mitch squeezed her hand. “We’ll figure this out, Emily. I won’t stop until we do.”
She stared at his large, strong fingers engulfing hers. She believed him. He wouldn’t give up. Not like William or even Eric had. The Wentworth brothers had both gone down the path of least resistance—Eric by avoiding his family, William by giving into them. Mitch would never have done either. He didn’t walk away from a fight, he ran toward conflict and battled it out. He was a protector, a warrior. Perhaps that’s why she felt safe when she was near him.
