by Karen Rose
Sunday, March 16, 4.10 A.M.
Stevie sat at the kitchen table clutching her cell phone in her fist, watching Clay stirring a pot at the stove. Hot chocolate. The man was making her hot chocolate. From scratch.
‘A mix would have been fine,’ she murmured dully. There was a numbness in her chest . . . She was breathing, but that was all she could feel. I’m all she has left.
She could hear her daughter’s fierce words, echoing in her mind. Then that look Cordelia had given him when he’d said he’d wondered if his mother’s life would have been easier were he not there . . . Oh my God. My baby thinks that. How could she think that?
And what had she said at the very end to make Clay look like he’d been hit by a two-by-four? Your mother loves you with all her heart. What had Cordelia replied?
‘Dad doesn’t believe in mixes,’ Clay said, quiet affection in his tone. ‘He always says that anything worth doing is worth doing right.’
‘You love your father. Your stepfather, I mean.’
He looked at her over his shoulder. ‘Tanner St James is my father in every way that matters.’ He turned back to the stove, whisking the mixture in the pot, then moving fluidly, as he always did, to grab a pair of mugs from a high shelf.
‘Then why is your last name still Maynard?’
‘He wanted to adopt me, to change my name, but my biological father went to court to stop it. Clayton Maynard, Senior, didn’t want me or my mother, but he was selfish enough to want his family name to go on. In those days, that was enough for a judge. But it’s okay.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘Clay St James sounds like a porn star.’
She snorted a surprised laugh. ‘It really does.’
He slid the mug in front of her and took his seat. Too close. He was entirely too close. But he was warm. And Stevie was so tempted to lean into him.
Instead she sipped at the chocolate, finding it delicious, which came as no great shock. Everything he did seemed to be right. And everything I do lately seems to turn out wrong.
‘What did she say, Clay? When you said I loved her with all my heart, what did she say?’
‘She said, “I know. Because I’m all she has left.”’
Stevie flinched. ‘What? Oh my God.’ Pushing the mug away, she covered her mouth with a hand that shook. Pain and denial and horror mixed together, surging up her throat, threatening to expel the chocolate she’d drunk. ‘She thinks I only love her because she’s . . .’ All I have left.
Her eyes met Clay’s, saw his sorrow. ‘I’ve never said that to her,’ Stevie said, her voice trembling. ‘Not once. Not ever.’
‘I know. You wouldn’t.’
‘I guess I didn’t have to. She is all I have left. Of Paul, anyway. But that’s not . . . That doesn’t have anything to do with my loving her. She’s my child.’
‘I know,’ he said gently.
‘But that doesn’t matter as long as Cordelia thinks it,’ she said and he lifted a shoulder in agreement. ‘What can I do to convince her that’s not true?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t have any experience with these things.’
‘You seemed to be doing well enough with her,’ Stevie muttered, then sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m glad she talked to you. She won’t talk to her counselor.’
‘Because she thinks her counselor will tell you everything, because you’re friends.’
Stevie huffed a bitter laugh. ‘She’s too smart for her own good. She thinks too much.’ She glanced at him, saw what he was thinking but was too polite to say. ‘Just like her mama.’
He lifted his shoulder again in agreement. But said nothing, just sat, sipping his chocolate.
‘I’ll talk to her, once I figure out what to say.’ She stared at her phone. ‘My cell woke me up.’ Not the fact that her daughter had had a vicious nightmare and had left the bedroom to be comforted by someone else. ‘I panicked until I saw she was with you. I knew she was safe.’
‘Thank you,’ he murmured.
‘Thank you for being there for her. And for me.’ She put her phone on the table. ‘It was a text from JD. He wants us to call him on a secure line. I figured you’d have one of those.’
He was already halfway to the kitchen door. ‘Wait here. I’ll be right back.’
She was left alone with her thoughts and a mug of hot chocolate. As so often happened when she was troubled about Cordelia, Paul’s face came to mind.
‘I’ve really screwed things up,’ she whispered to him. ‘Turned our kid into . . .’ What? Cordy was a great kid, thoughtful and kind. And terrified to go to sleep, convinced her own mother only loved her because she had no one else.
Paul would not have approved.
But you’re not here, are you? she thought angrily. I’m winging this solo, buddy. Because you are not here. And Clay was right. Paul was never coming back.
Wearily she rested her head on the table, her cheek against the cool wood. ‘Shit,’ she said aloud just as the kitchen door swung open and Tanner St James came in with an old-fashioned corded phone. He gave her a sympathetic look, far different from his previous glare.
‘You okay?’ he asked as he plugged the phone cord into the wall.
‘Yeah, thanks.’ She didn’t want to know what he knew. ‘What’s with the antique?’
‘Clay said you need a secure line. The cordless isn’t secure.’
Clay returned, a speaker in his hand. ‘I’ve got sensors on the phone lines to ensure we’re not being bugged.’ He sat next to her and rigged the speaker to the old phone. ‘Call him.’
JD picked up on the first ring. ‘What took you so long?’ he snapped.
‘Sorry,’ Stevie said. ‘I just gave Clay the message. What’s up?’
‘A dead cop, that’s what.’
She and Clay exchanged a worried glance. ‘Who?’
JD blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Her name was Justine Cleary. She was an undercover policewoman, five foot, two inches tall with shoulder-length dark brown hair.’
Stevie tugged at her own shoulder-length dark brown hair uncertainly. ‘Where was she killed? When? And by whom?’
‘In a hotel room in Silver Spring.’ Which was forty-five minutes from Baltimore, in the opposite direction from Clay’s beach house. ‘An hour and a half ago. By another cop, who we now have in custody. He’s in the hospital, in critical condition, with multiple gun shot wounds.’
‘Were you there?’ Stevie asked quietly, some of the pieces falling together.
‘Yes.’ JD’s voice was flat. ‘I shot him. After he killed Cleary in cold blood.’
Stevie exhaled carefully. ‘That’s why Hyatt wanted me to go to a safe house and didn’t question when I agreed so readily. He set up a decoy. Did you know, JD?’
‘Not until I got there. I thought Hyatt would be pissed off, but he had it all set up.’
Clay looked grim. ‘How did the cop know the safe house was at that hotel?’
‘Don’t know yet. Hyatt thought we might have a leak, so he set it up this way so he could trace the flow of information. Justine had a marksmanship patch. She was a damn fine shot who should have been able to take care of herself. But the cop who came in knew the password. She opened the door for him and was dead before I could say a word.’
‘Are you all right, JD?’ Stevie asked quietly.
‘I’m not hit,’ he replied harshly. ‘But I had to tell Justine’s husband that she’s not coming home. So, no. I’m not all right at all.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Stevie whispered. ‘Truly sorry.’
‘This isn’t your fault,’ Clay said firmly.
‘He’s right,’ JD said, his voice softening, ‘You can be sorry for her loss, but you played no part in her death, Stevie. That was all on the cop who shot her and anyone who fed him intel.’
‘I know. I am sorry for her loss, though. And that you had to inform her family alone.’
‘I wasn’t alone. Hyatt went with me.’
Hyatt wasn’t bad at
informing families. This she knew from experience, professional and personal. It was eight years ago that she’d looked up from her desk to see Hyatt standing in front of her, his eyes filled with the pain of having to tell her that Paul and Paulie were gone.
‘Who was the dirty cop?’ she asked unsteadily.
‘Tony Rossi. He’s a detective in the robbery division.’
Stevie shook her head. ‘I don’t know him. I’ve never heard his name.’
‘Well, he wanted to shut you up permanently,’ JD said. ‘And there’s more.’
Dread rose, bile burning her throat. ‘What?’
‘He shot Justine twice, then kept shooting – at the bed. We’d put a large doll under the covers, so it would look like a child sleeping. If it had been Cordelia . . .’
Stevie’s heart stopped. ‘She’d be dead.’ Trying to stay calm, she met Clay’s furious stare. ‘We need to get her someplace even safer than this. I want her far away. Like the goddamn moon.’ She was on the verge of hyperventilating. ‘Oh, God.’
Clay patted her hand, then shifted away. ‘JD, what does Hyatt want to do next?’
Stevie sat back in her chair, eyes squeezed shut, hand pressed to her mouth, trying hard not to cry. Still a few hot tears seeped from beneath her eyelids. A warm hand closed over her shoulder, and her eyes flew open to find Tanner silently offering her a tissue.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
A final gentle squeeze of her shoulder was his only reply.
Clay was tapping the phone because JD hadn’t responded to the last question. ‘JD?’
‘Sorry,’ JD said. ‘I had to find a quiet room. A couple of Feds just arrived, on loan to Joseph’s task force. They’re going on shifts to man the phones. We set up a hotline for info on the sniper this afternoon and the phones have been ringing off the hook.’
‘Any leads?’ Stevie managed, her voice more level.
‘Not yet, just the usual crazies coming out of the woodwork. Okay.’ They heard the creaking of a chair and the rifling of papers in the background. ‘You asked about our next steps. The priorities are to trace the leak, ferret out all the bad apples in Hyatt’s department, and keep Stevie and Cordelia safe, not necessarily in that order.’
But all connected, Stevie thought. ‘He’s assuming there are more dirty cops?’
‘Safer to assume they’re out there than to deny their existence,’ JD said. ‘Somebody leaked the safe house details. Worst case, we have a network of cops covering each other. Best case, that person did it unknowingly, but they still need to be identified. Rossi was not in a position to know where Stevie would have been tonight. He’s in the burglary division.’
‘Was Rossi the shooter at the restaurant?’ Clay asked and Stevie gave him a second look. She had automatically assumed the shots were fired by a single gunman. Clay was right to assume they weren’t.
‘Not enough evidence to say definitively, although I’m pretty certain he wasn’t the one who shot up Stevie’s front yard.’
‘Why?’ Clay asked.
‘Not the right body type, for one. I saw the gunman’s arm when he shot from the red Chevy. Rossi’s arm is short and thick. The gunman driving the red car would be leaner. But of course we’ll check Rossi’s prints against the white Toyota that followed you, Alec, and Cordelia, and the red Chevy that did the drive-by in Stevie’s yard. What’s left of it, anyway. The Chevy was abandoned about twenty miles from your house, lit on fire and left to burn.’
‘I know,’ Stevie said. ‘Paige told me. Has forensics gotten anything from it?’
‘Not yet, but they’re going over every square inch of it. There was one good thing, though.’
‘What’s that?’ Stevie asked.
‘The driver’s seat of the Chevy was missing. The frame remained, but the seat cover and all the stuffing had been removed.’
Clay’s eyes glinted. ‘Then I got him.’
‘I’d say you did,’ JD said, satisfied.
‘Because the only reason he’d remove the seat was if he left evidence behind on it,’ Stevie said thoughtfully. ‘Like blood. Did we check the street a few houses up from mine? His arm was hanging out the window. Maybe he dripped some as he sped away.’
‘More likely I hit his shoulder and most of his blood spilled in the car,’ Clay said. ‘But it’s worth a try. I take it that no GSWs have checked into area hospitals.’
‘Only the one I just sent. Rossi was bullet-free when he arrived at the safe house. Hyatt and IA are at the hospital, waiting for him to come out of surgery. As soon as he’s conscious, they’ll grill him for details.’
Stevie frowned. ‘But didn’t Rossi expect me to have backup at the safe house?’
‘No. Hyatt let it drop to a few people that you’d be alone because you were “too damn stubborn” to let them guard you.’ Anybody who knows you didn’t doubt him.’
Stevie wanted to be offended, but couldn’t. ‘It’s a fair cop, I guess.’
‘He was dropping bread crumbs and wanted them to be believable. Now he has some leads on the leak.’
‘How is he?’ Stevie asked quietly. She’d worked for Peter Hyatt for a long time. He was gruff and sometimes a pain in the ass, but deep down he cared. That he’d put an officer in a situation that had gotten her killed would weigh him down.
‘Angry as hell. He’d hoped you were wrong, you know. That there weren’t any more cops involved. Now he knows there are and one of the good guys is dead.’
For a long moment no one said anything.
‘That makes three today,’ Stevie said, breaking the silence. ‘Three dead and we still have at least one gunman out there, walking free. Until we catch him, I’m a target and I’ve made Cordelia one, too. And Emma.’ Her voice trembled and she cleared her throat harshly. ‘It could be anyone.’
‘Not just anyone,’ JD said. ‘Someone who’s connected to Stuart Lippman and Silas. Or to one of the crimes they perpetrated. I do see one benefit in all this, though.’
Stevie desperately needed a bright side. ‘What’s that?’
‘The murder of a cop in a safe house by another cop blows this whole thing wide open. Whoever targeted you to keep you from investigating the crimes that didn’t make it to Lippman’s list now knows it’s not just you looking. They can’t silence all of us.’
Stevie’s heart stuttered in her chest. All she could see in her mind was more bloodshed. ‘That’s not a bright side, JD,’ she said hoarsely.
‘It takes the spotlight off of you,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘Hyatt and IA should have made this public right away. The damn veil of secrecy put you in danger.’
‘You’re right,’ she said, pushing away the dread. ‘Now we – all of us together – have to rout this rot out of the department before anyone else gets hurt.’ She thought of Justine Cleary, the undercover policewoman who’d died in her place. ‘Or worse.’
‘The answer is somewhere in those files you brought with you,’ Clay said to Stevie. ‘My bet is that we’re looking for a case you hadn’t uncovered yet. If it was one of the cases on Lippman’s list, IA would have eventually gotten to it, so it would have made more sense to kill one of them. It’s got to be one of the cases that didn’t make it to the list.’
‘You were hunting off the list,’ JD agreed. ‘It was only a matter of time before you exposed them.’
‘So let’s expose them now.’ Clay caught Stevie’s eye, his gaze sharp. ‘How long ago did Silas start working for Lippman?’
‘Nine years ago,’ she said.
‘And the other cops you know were dirty? How far back does that activity go?’
‘The tell-all file that Lippman left behind recorded the first frame-job eleven years ago. He started with two cops on his payroll – homicide detectives Riddick and Payne. They were partners at the time. Riddick retired about five years ago, but died soon after. Payne’s been in custody for the last six months. He was one of the first arrested.’
‘And after that?’ Clay asked. �
��Who did Lippman recruit after that?’
‘That would have been Elizabeth Morton, also Homicide. Lippman had one of his people hit her little boy with a car ten years ago. Ensured her cooperation by threatening to make it more painful for the boy “the next time”. He wasn’t even three years old then.’
‘Sonofabitch,’ Tanner muttered from behind her. ‘Who does that? Who cripples toddlers? Who shoots at beds, hoping to kill little girls? My God. I was a cop for twenty-five years and I thought nothing could surprise me, but . . . Hell. Makes me sick that these guys wore a badge. The mother of the boy I might be able to understand, but still.’
‘Don’t waste too much understanding on her,’ Stevie said. ‘Elizabeth made it worse for herself. She killed Silas to keep him from giving Lippman’s identity to us. In my living room, no less.’ She still remembered the way her old partner dropped after Elizabeth Morton shot him.
‘Why?’ Tanner asked, confused.
‘Because,’ she said, ‘Lippman made sure all of his operatives knew that if he was captured or killed, they’d all be exposed. We had Silas surrounded and he had excellent incentive to give Lippman up – Lippman had made good on his long-standing threat and abducted Silas’s child.’
‘That was the case where Paige met Grayson,’ Clay said to his father. ‘Remember, she told you about it the time she brought Grayson out here to meet you. Paige and Grayson had gotten too close to Lippman and the bastard had ordered Silas to kill them. Kidnapping Silas’s child was Lippman’s leverage, but then Paige’s dog took Silas down and he found himself staring at a bunch of guns. He knew then that he was going to jail and that Stevie, Grayson, and Paige were his only hope of getting his little girl back.’
Tanner nodded. ‘I remember now. Paige mentioned that another cop killed Silas.’
Stevie frowned a little, the thought of Grayson and Paige visiting with Clay’s father mildly unsettling. Grayson had been Stevie’s friend for years, yet he’d never mentioned this relationship. Maybe because it involved Clay and Grayson knew I’d turned him away?
Or . . . Maybe because I’ve cut myself off from my friends. She thought about that moment that they’d all rallied around her, there on the road. Supporting her. She’d been stunned, but she shouldn’t have been. They’d always been there. When did I shut them out?
