Wordless (Pink Sofa Secrets Book 1)

by Mel Sterling

  "I would never do anything to hurt Horace's store. Horace was…" She bit her lip and looked away. "He helped me a lot when I was a kid. Things weren't great at my house."

  "I know."

  "You can't imagine." Gilly stared fiercely at him, her fauxhawk flapping as she shook her head. "Go on."

  "Thing is, Gilly, I don't believe you read those books. I think you borrowed them for someone else. Someone who's just as hard-luck as you were, once."

  Her cheeks grew pale, and then darkened. Her gaze slid left and right. She flicked a glance over her shoulder.

  "Who was it, Gilly? Was it Q?" He watched as a tear slipped over her lower lashes, then another.

  "I think maybe."

  "Maybe?"

  "It kinda sucks when you misjudge someone, okay? I didn't know. I thought he just couldn't afford to buy the books, and the library doesn't have a lot of the ones he wanted to read. He's a poet. Books are like oxygen."

  "What finally tipped you off that he wasn't just reading them?"

  Gilly gnawed at a black-varnished fingernail. He saw the sudden glitter of tears as she stared up at the sky to suppress them. Anxiety gnawed a hole in Jack's gut.

  "I get that you want to protect him, Gilly. I get that. But I'm doing the same for Lexie, and Ben, and the bookstore. Maybe even you, now. What was it?"

  "You'll go to the cops."

  "Maybe." He had to be honest with her. Would he throw Q under a bus to protect Lexie? In a heartbeat, if he knew Q was guilty. But he didn't want to throw Gilly under there too. Lexie's and Ben's instincts had been right about her, he was sure. She was an innocent who'd been duped, but that didn't make her any less of an accomplice in the eyes of the law.

  Across the square, a dark SUV pulled up in front of the bookstore. Jack and Gilly turned to watch it.

  "He brought one of the books back and I returned it to Lexie. Then he told me he'd left something important in the book, some paperwork he'd been using as a bookmark, and asked me to get it back. I couldn't. Ben said Lexie had sold and shipped it already. Then…"

  Jack glanced over his shoulder at her, the bulk of his awareness locked on that dark SUV. He could guess what came next. "Then you heard that someone broke into Lexie's house, didn't you? Heard she changed her locks."

  She looked miserably at him. "When I asked him what would happen if he didn't get the paperwork back, he said he had worked with Lexie and got it back after all."

  "Q broke into her house and took a book she was going to mail."

  "I…maybe."

  "You knew he was lying. You knew he'd been in her house more than once. Probably fixing things when the wrong book got mailed."

  Gilly swiped a hand over her eyes, smearing mascara and eyeliner everywhere, and muttering a curse when she saw the mess on the back of her hand. "Yeah. So what happens now, Jack?"

  Across the street, Inspector Hazelton was getting out of the SUV. He gestured another agent to the door of The Cup. In very few moments, Jack saw the barista who'd eighty-sixed him from The Cup holding the door open, and customers streaming out, moving quickly, some of them still cramming papers and books into bags as if they'd been interrupted by a fire alarm. The barista locked the door, then she, too, walked swiftly away, looking back several times as she poked at her cell phone screen. The agent gave a nod and a thumb's up to Hazelton, then took up a stance in the doorway of The Cup.

  "What the hell—" began Gilly, then fell silent as Q got out of the passenger side of the SUV and joined Hazelton on the sidewalk.

  "Oh, hell no," Jack whispered.

  It was going down, right here, right now. Hazelton was a dirty cop. Q was his henchman, and Lexie and Ben and Gard were in there, all of them completely unaware that a tipping point had somehow been reached. He reached for his cell phone just as Hazelton and Q vanished into Horace's Books, and punched up Gard's number.

  Gard didn't answer. For the first time ever.

  Jack got to his feet. Gilly crossed the space between them and grabbed his elbow. "What's happening over there? Why'd they close my shop?"

  "I think that Fed and Q are in cahoots. Now Lexie knows too much and they've got to…to stop her. I'm going in there."

  She stared at him. "You can't. You don't…" Gilly swallowed hard. "I think Q would do more than just break into a house. He's—"

  "Does he have a gun? Do you know?"

  "He said he needed it, where he sleeps. It's a bad part of town, and some nights I know he sleeps rough, his roommate does drugs and—"

  Jack let out a string of curses and edged Gilly back to the planter, where she was somewhat concealed from the street view. "Look. You need to call the cops and tell them what's going on. Just—I don't know, say there's someone brandishing a gun at Horace's Books and you're afraid there are hostages inside. Anything that'll get them here in a hurry."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Like I said—going in."

  "How? Break the glass? If they're in the mood to shoot people, they'll just shoot you too."

  "Then I'll break in the back door."

  "How's that better?"

  "I have to do something!" He tried to pull away, but Gilly had her hands wrapped around his elbow and short of towing her along, he wasn't going anywhere till she let go.

  She lifted her chin toward The Cup. "There's just the one guy guarding my shop. I've got my keys. We'll go in the back. We can see what's going on from there, through the connecting door. Then we'll decide what—"

  Jack gave Gilly a smacking kiss right on the lips. "You're a genius. Let's go." He grabbed her hand and the two of them sprinted through the square, headed for the next cross street so they could approach the building from the alley behind.

  Gilly got her key in the alley door to The Cup. Jack pushed the door open slowly though every instinct urged him to hurry, peering inside. Nobody was in the back room, as Gilly had expected. She led the way to the door into The Cup's main room. Together, they peered around the edge.

  The Cup was as brightly lit as always, warm, welcoming on this chilly autumn day. The smell of coffee and scalded milk washed over them. Behind him, Gilly put a hand on his shoulder and pushed.

  "Get down."

  "Right." He crept inside, bobbing up above the bar just enough to verify that he was seeing the back of the agent outside, that nobody was peering in through the glass door. The Cup had been cleared; the agent was stationed outside to make sure nobody came in. The real action was going on next door, and Jack's gut told him Hazelton and Q weren't just looking for books and data chips any longer. It was damage control time, starting with Lexie and Ben and probably Gard.

  He was torn between hoping they'd thrown Gard out, and hoping they'd kept him in the store. He didn't want Gard hurt, but there was nobody better able to take care of Lexie and Ben if things got tough.

  The two of them stayed low and crawled toward the French door that joined the two suites. Gilly fumbled for her keys again.

  "What happens now?" she whispered.

  "You call the cops."

  "Why?"

  "Because—get down." He ducked back behind the wall, bringing Gilly with him. "That was close. Q was headed for the back room, he nearly saw us." Jack fixed her with a stare. "I have to know you're completely on my side about this. Q's a criminal, Gilly. There's no doubt in my mind. When I go in there, I'm going to disable him if I can, him and Hazelton both, and let the cops sort it out. You going to back me up, or will your feelings for Q get in the way? Because if so, just unlock this door for me, then get the hell out of here and call the cops from a pay phone, if you don't want them to know about you. I'll do my best to keep you out of it—"

  "I'm with you." Her voice was hoarse. "He's not—I'm not Quint's girlfriend anymore. He's doing bad things and taking other people with him. I don't want to get involved with the cops, but…I'll do what's right. Fix what I broke."

  Jack put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You're going to stay where it's safe, and c
all the cops. I can handle myself."

  "But can you handle them, too?"

  Jack didn't answer. He didn't know. It didn't matter, because there was work to be done and he was going to do it. He leaned forward, keeping low. Q was not in sight, but he could see Lexie, Ben, Gard, and Hazelton. Gard was standing up at Jack's usual table, taking things out of his pockets, slow as molasses. Gard was talking, but his gaze was roaming the store.

  Suddenly Gard's eyes locked on Jack's, for no more than a second. Beyond that glance, Gard gave no sign he'd seen Jack. His gaze went back to roaming the store, but he put two fingers to the side of his eye in an unusual gesture.

  Two fingers. Eye.

  Then Gard's hand dropped, making a pistol shape with his fingers and his thumb, and rested briefly at his belt.

  I see two men, both armed? Is that what he's telling me? It would fit…

  Jack watched a moment longer. Hazelton gestured to Gard to start moving past the register counter. The agent was going to put the three—Lexie, Ben, and Gard—somewhere out of sight of the main windows.

  Now Jack could see Hazelton's gun, though the agent kept it low and close to his body so it wasn't visible to anyone not looking for it.

  As Gard moved, being extra careful not to limp or overbalance on his new leg, he once again pointed to his eye, then made the gun signal at his belt. He glanced toward Jack, who touched his own eye with two fingers and nodded once.

  Message received.

  "Unlock the door. Looks like they're putting Lexie and Ben and Gard in the restroom. Unlock the door while they're busy. Then I'll wait for my best chance to go in."

  Gilly stood up and hid behind the wall as she turned the key in the lock and made sure the latch was clear. Jack twisted the knob silently and opened the door the barest crack so they could hear what was going on inside Horace's Books.

  "Go call the cops, Gilly."

  "All right, all right." She stayed low, duckwalking behind the bar. Jack heard her speaking into The Cup's telephone. Her voice was low and urgent, but even though he knew the 911 operator would have wanted her to stay on the line to relay updates, she hung up and came back to the doorway, staying low but peering in.

  Q and Hazelton stayed near the restroom where they could keep an eye on their three hostages. Jack figured they couldn't move into the back room, because they couldn't lock the doors on the hostages.

  In fact, the hostages could lock the door on their captors.

  The thought stilled Jack for a moment. Surely Gard would think of it. They'd be protected, at least until Hazelton or Q decided a noisy round of gunfire was the way to make their point—shoot through the wall or the door.

  It could buy them a little time, maybe even until the Camden police force arrived.

  "So our people are in the bathroom, it looks like?" asked Gilly.

  "To keep them corralled where they can't get their hands on weapons or make a break for it in amongst all the bookcases."

  "Where's the cat?" Gilly asked, then, a moment later, said, "Oh," as Melville wandered into view, headed straight for the French door, which he must have heard opening. "Damn it. Shoo!"

  "Get him in here! Don't let them see him looking around over here—"

  "Too late," whispered Gilly, as Q, fidgety as always, turned to see what movement had caught his eye. Her pink fauxhawk, spiky as a star, caught the light and shone like a beacon. Q's eyes narrowed, and in that moment Gilly murmured, without moving her lips, "I've got to go in, do what you can with this, Jack."

  She opened the door before Jack could frame an objection or grab for her belt or ankle, and boldly strode through it, scooping up the cat as she went. She left the door standing open. "Oh no you don't, you silly kitty! No warm milk for you today! Hello, Quint, what's up? Why have the cops closed The Cup, do you know? Is there a gas leak or something?"

  Gilly, bless her, took the long way around a couple of bookcases, drawing Q and Hazelton away from the restroom, and out of the line of sight of the French door.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  INSPECTOR HAZELTON CAME THROUGH the front door of Horace's Books, wearing a smile that looked more like indigestion than interest in what Lexie had to say. She stepped off the rungs of the library ladder she'd been halfway up, and went to meet him.

  Gard was still sitting at the table. She hadn't had the will to make him leave.

  Hazelton's gaze swept the store. "Who else is here?" Hazelton demanded, without preamble.

  "Just me, and my employee, and G—one customer." She frowned a little, but supposed that Hazelton would now ask her to speak privately, or ask her to lock up and have Gard leave. Behind Hazelton, another figure was at the door, his back to her. He was fumbling with the doorknob—locking them in, she realized. Then the man turned, and she saw it was Q.

  Knowledge came in a series of broken bits that assembled a terrifying whole within seconds. While she stared at Q, he put a hand in his pocket and pulled out a small pistol. At the table, Gard was suddenly on his feet, but the bulky Marine must have looked like a threat because Inspector Hazelton also had a gun, and it was pointed right at him.

  "Why does a postal inspector need a gun?" Lexie blurted. "I called you because I had information, but I see you already knew what I had to tell you, because you brought the very man I called about." She pointed at Q.

  "Lexie," said Gard. "Stop talking." He continued, in a rush, "Ben-get-out-and-call-the-cops."

  Her head snapped toward Gard, but his attention was split between Q and Hazelton.

  Hazelton advanced on Gard. "Ah ah, now, don't try to be a hero. Empty your pockets onto the table. Right now. Quint, find this Ben."

  "I'm right here." Ben emerged from the shelves, his hands up already. He stared wide-eyed at Lexie, who caught her breath before a sob could emerge. Tears would not help right now. She had to think, not feel. Why hadn't Ben hidden, waited for the moment when he could slip into the back room and make his escape? But Q knew the store well. He had already been heading for the back room. Now the gaunt poet, still wearing his seedy beret, went through the door with his pistol raised. She heard him checking the alley exit. A moment later he returned and nodded at Hazelton. At a twitch from Q's gun, Ben likewise began emptying his pockets, setting the contents on a bookshelf. Q took Ben's cell phone and turned it off.

  Gard was slowly putting things on the table. Cell phone. A multi-tool with blades and bits. Wallet. A jingle of coins. As he removed each item, he watched Hazelton, and kept his gaze scanning the bookstore. There was a long moment when he touched and held two fingers to his right eye, then his hand drifted down to his belt, again, two fingers.

  Lexie watched, standing stock still, silent. Was Gard trying to send her a message? If so, she was missing it completely.

  Hazelton spoke again. "All right, hero. This way. Quint?"

  Lexie turned in time to see Quint gesturing at her. "Just waiting for Lexie. Ben's finished."

  "Waiting for me? What for?"

  "Empty your pockets."

  The only thing Lexie had in her skirt pockets was her keyring. She put it on the bookshelf beside her, as Ben had done. Then she shrugged. "That's it. If you want what's in the register, it's not much, but you can take it and go. I promise I won't call the cops."

  Hazelton and Q—Quint, she reminded herself, Quint who? Cyril knows, and Gilly—laughed. "We won't be leaving, Ms. Worth. I want your cell phone. Bring it to me."

  "It's in my purse, which is locked in a cupboard in the back room. I'll just—" she reached for her keys again, but Hazelton forestalled her with a growl.

  "Leave it. Now, the three of you—in there." The gun waved toward the restroom. Hazelton positioned himself between Gard and the front door, moving in on the Marine, who eased away from the table, hands at his sides. He moved awkwardly, as if he were trying to conceal his disability from Hazelton and Quint. Once again his fingers touched his eye, then his belt.

  "What do you want from us?" Lexie demanded. "We can't giv
e you what you want if you don't tell us—"

  "Shut it." Quint gave Ben a shove to hurry him along. Ben moved faster and looped Lexie into the curve of his arm as he neared her.

  "But—"

  "It'll be all right, Alexia," Gard said firmly. "Someone will notice, and call the cops."

  Lexie bit her lip. Gard had to mean Jack, but Jack was nowhere near.

  Hazelton laughed again. "They'd better be quick about it, then, because in about five minutes this will all be over. Lock them in, Quint."

  The three of them were shoved into the restroom, then the door slammed shut.

  Ben flipped on the light switch. They stared at each other for a long moment. There was silence outside in the bookstore.

  "They can't lock it from outside," Ben pointed out, locking the knob.

  "It won't slow them down for long, but seconds count." Gard nodded. "Anything to mess with their plan, they'll have to stop and react. We'll have warning. They'll be watching and listening. Lexie, get some soap on your fingertip and write the names of these guys on the mirror. Write as much of this as you know, whatever will fit."

  Gard moved toward the toilet in the big, open ADA restroom. He lifted the tank lid in careful silence and handed it to Ben. "Think you can get a good enough grip on this to swing it if you need to? Hit someone over the head with it? Smash in a face?"

  Ben's eyes widened, and Lexie turned from the mirror, eyes round. Ben stared. "I…"

  "Listen to me." Gard's voice was an urgent murmur, and Lexie noticed that he used the same trick as Jack had the first night he walked her home, lisping so the sibilants didn't hiss in the echoey bathroom. "They have guns. One's a dirty cop. There's a lot of money involved. Your life doesn't mean shit to people like that. Lexie's life. Mine. That's why we're in here. They're going to do something to us, and they're going to do it real soon now. Me, I'm not going down without a fight. Hit like you mean it. Hit to disable. Hit to stop them."

  Ben took the tank lid, shifting it in his hands to find the best grip, hefted it a moment, took a small practice swing, then he nodded, lips tight.