by Karen Rose
Four shooting attempts in two days? And one in a safe house?
They were determined enough. It was only a matter of time before she was tracked here. The property itself was secure, but anyone that determined could be patient enough to wait on the road to waylay a car carrying Cordelia. And Stevie, if she decided to leave as well.
The road wasn’t safe. Going by water would probably be safer.
Now he knew exactly what he’d do and exactly who he’d call to put his plan in place. That settled, he blinked hard and forced his eyes to focus on the page before him.
Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 6.58 A.M.
Sam Hudson pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up for the better part of an hour, waiting for the morning shift to arrive. ‘Hey, Dee.’
Dina Andrews looked over her shoulder, a smile lighting her face. ‘Sammy. What brings you to the tomb so early in the morning?’
They’d dated once, five years ago. Dina was one of the rarities in Sam’s experience – an honest woman on the dating scene. She’d been upfront that she was looking for long-term. Sam had liked her, but not that way. So they’d stayed friends and few were more loyal than Dina.
‘I come bearing gifts.’ He held out a bag and a cup from the Starbucks on the corner. ‘My mom’s homemade pumpkin bread and a cup of decaf tea.’
She accepted the gifts with a suspicious narrowing of her eyes. ‘Why?’
‘Because I need a favor.’ He followed her back to her cubicle, then held out the evidence bag with the revolver inside. ‘Can you run a check on this?’
She took the bag, brows lifted. ‘Is there a report to go along with it?’
‘Not yet. It was left for me. Not too far from where I was sleeping.’
Not a lie. Technically. The revolver had been left for him, three feet from where he’d slept away thirty hours like the dead – eight years ago.
‘Someone in the neighborhood maybe?’
‘Who knows?’ he replied. ‘Maybe a guilty conscience or an innocent bystander.’
She studied him squarely and he knew that she guessed he was keeping secrets. ‘Okay. I’ll call you when I have something.’
‘Thanks, Dee. You’re the best.’
Sam walked away, dread pooling in his gut. She’d find something. He knew it. He should have checked eight years ago, but he’d been so afraid of what he’d find. So he’d said nothing.
Please God, he whispered in his mind. Please don’t let it be anything I can’t fix. Please.
Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 8.15 A.M.
‘Mr Maynard?’
Cordelia’s little whisper came from above his head, from the middle of the staircase. Clay looked up, relieved he’d locked Stevie’s files in the closet under the stairs. There were crimes in those folders that adults should never have had to see, much less a child Cordelia’s age.
Already dressed, with her hair brushed, she sat on the step that came even with his head, her face pressed between the spindles. ‘Where’s my mo— Oh. There she is.’
He looked over his shoulder, following her gaze to the sofa where Stevie slept soundly. ‘She got up to work last night and fell asleep at the kitchen table.’
‘She does that sometimes,’ Cordelia said, aggrieved. ‘She’ll say, “I’m just resting my eyes”, then the next thing Aunt Izzy and I know, she’s snoring, really loud. She says she doesn’t snore, but she does.’ The last word was punctuated with a hard nod that made Clay grin. ‘Did you have to put away all her reports so I wouldn’t see them?’
His grin faded. ‘Yes,’ he said, wondering why he continued to be surprised at this child’s solid grasp on the reality around her. ‘Do you ever peek?’
‘No. Mom says those papers will mess up my head. I think I’m already messed up enough. Puppies and Skittles,’ she added with a dramatic sigh that tried to hide so much pain and fear.
‘And flowers and rainbows. I’m sorry, honey.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s okay. Where is everybody?’
‘Miss Emma went back upstairs to sleep.’ Emma had lasted another hour before her eyes drooped shut once again. ‘She tried to work but kept falling asleep on the reports.’
‘Where’s Mr Tanner? And the dogs?’
‘Out for a walk and a swim. Dad walks, the dogs swim.’
‘The water’s too cold. They’ll get sick.’
‘Nah. They’re bred to swim in cold water. They’ll be fine.’
‘Where are the puppies?’ Cordelia asked.
‘In their bed by the furnace.’ He thumbed over his shoulder and she strained to fit her face between the spindles, trying to get a glimpse. ‘Your head’s gonna get stuck,’ he cautioned mildly, making her giggle. The sound lifted his heart. Too late, Stevie. Way too late for me not to get attached to your baby girl.
Being around Stevie’s child made him happy and wistful, all at once. I should have had this. Should have had a daughter. But the daughter of his blood was lost to him. He’d never seen her smile, never heard her giggle. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he’d hoped at a second chance at fatherhood with Cordelia Mazzetti.
And with a child Stevie and I might have made together. But Stevie had been very clear on that point. He might never stop hoping, but realistically he had to accept that the family he’d always wanted might never be.
He wanted to be angry with Stevie, but he couldn’t. She was protecting her child and herself the best way she knew how. He had to figure out how to stop her from doing it.
‘You look so sad,’ Cordelia said quietly. ‘Why?’
You promised you wouldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t discuss his issues with Stevie, so he gave her the only other honest answer he could. ‘I miss my own little girl.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You have a little girl?’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘Not so little anymore. She’ll be twenty-two this summer.’
Cordelia studied him through the spindles. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Sienna.’ It hurt to say it out loud.
‘Why do you miss her? Why don’t you see her?’
‘It’s complicated. She . . . doesn’t like me.’ Understatement of the damn century.
‘Why not? I think you’re nice.’
That made him smile. ‘You’re pretty nice, too. Like I said, it’s complicated. Her mother kept her from me. I wasn’t allowed to see her when she was growing up.’
‘Why?’ She sounded so distressed on his behalf that his own heart was eased.
‘I could never get her mother to tell me. I didn’t even know about Sienna until she was much older.’
‘But now she’s a grownup, right? You don’t need her mama’s permission, do you?’
‘No, I guess not. Her mama’s not living anymore, anyway. I’ve tried to contact Sienna, but every time I show up to see her, she’s somewhere else. She lives out west now, in California.’ At least that was the last known address he had for her. A rented mailbox in a UPS store.
Cordelia extended her small hand and patted his cheek gently. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I’m going to make waffles. You want to help me?’
‘You can make waffles?’ she asked skeptically.
‘You just watch me. Come on.’ He held out his hand and she skipped down the stairs, taking his hand with an unexpectedly firm grip. He looked down at her fierce little face and saw Stevie in her eyes. ‘What is it, honey?’ he asked.
‘Where am I going today?’
‘Don’t know yet. I’m waiting to talk to your mom when she wakes up. For the next hour, you can stick with me and I’ll show you my mother’s waffle recipe. I used to help her cook when I was your age.’ He sniffed. ‘Dad must be back from his walk. I smell fresh coffee.’
‘Mom really likes coffee. Do you have chocolate chips?’
‘For the coffee? Yuck.’
She giggled again. ‘No, silly. For the waffles.’
�
��Chocolate in waffles?’ He looked down again, relieved to see her fierceness replaced with a simple smile. ‘Really?’
‘Oh my gosh, yes.’
Stevie waited until the kitchen door swung shut before sitting up on the sofa. I’m learning a helluva lot, listening in on my daughter’s conversations.
Clay had a daughter. That gave Stevie something to think about. But the words that stuck in her head were the ones she’d heard coming from Cordelia.
I’m all she has left, she’d said last night. And just now? I’m messed up enough.
Dear God. What have I done? She’d put her baby in harm’s way repeatedly, that’s what she’d done. In her head Stevie knew she’d been doing her job, an important job at that. She hadn’t been negligent. Hadn’t deliberately left her child unprotected.
But her heart shouted the truth. I failed to keep my own child safe.
She started to follow them into the kitchen, but held back, not ready to face Clay yet. She looked at the sofa, remembering exactly how she’d gotten there. She’d fallen asleep at the table, a stack of folders her pillow. And then she was being carried in strong arms, deposited on the sofa with a tenderness that had cut her deep, even in the fog of half-waking. He’d tucked her in as carefully as if she’d been a child herself. Brushed the hair from her face.
She’d opened her eyes to find him standing next to the sofa, staring down at her with a yearning that stole her breath. But he hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t made a move. Just turned around and went back to the kitchen. And she’d fallen back to sleep, feeling safe.
A piece of her rebelled at the notion. She didn’t need anyone to keep her safe. I can take care of myself. Grabbing her cane, she pushed herself to her feet and rolled her shoulder, the bullet wound from the day before still fresh enough to burn like fire.
You can take care of yourself? Really? So how’s that been working for you?
Shut up.
Feeling foolish, she turned and lifted her eyes to the window . . . and froze. Before her was the most beautiful day she’d seen in a long time. The sun reflected off the Chesapeake Bay in countless sparkles of light that glittered like diamonds. The sky was a cloudless blue, broken only by the lazy flight of seabirds.
Something within her settled. Quiet, she realized. Here was quiet. On another day, under different circumstances, she might have even found peace.
‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘I knew it would be magnificent.’
‘The view?’ Tanner asked. She looked over her shoulder to see him approaching, a mug of steaming coffee gripped in each fist.
‘It’s amazing,’ she told him. ‘You can see forever. The water, the waves. The birds. You’re lucky to be able to see it every day. Thank you,’ she added when he gave her one of the mugs.
‘Peace offering. I was impolite last night when you arrived. My wife would not have approved of my behavior.’
‘It’s all right. I understand about protecting your child.’
‘Clay’s no child and I was wrong to treat you harshly. You’d had a hell of a day and I didn’t make it any better. I hope you’ll stay as long as you need to.’
‘That’s very nice of you. But I think Cordelia needs to be . . .’ She drew a bolstering breath. ‘Away from me. Bad guys want me out of the picture. I don’t want her getting hurt because I’m too stubborn to admit someone else can protect her better than I can at the moment.’
‘Not because you want her away from Clay?’ Tanner asked carefully and her gaze shot up, locking with the older man’s.
‘No. That might have been true twenty-four hours ago, but it’s not true now. Your son has helped my daughter more in a day . . .’ Another bolstering breath. ‘Than I have in the past year.’
‘I don’t know about that. But he does seem to put her at ease. He was always like that as a boy. Always trying to put everyone at ease.’
‘Except himself?’
‘Yep,’ he said brusquely.
She had so many questions, but his expression said he’d tell no tales. ‘He makes my baby laugh. I haven’t heard her laugh in months. I guess I haven’t given her much to laugh about.’
‘You like to beat yourself up, don’t you?’
The question startled her. ‘Yep,’ she said, echoing his tone, making him chuckle.
‘You ought not do that.’ He took a sip of the coffee, staring out at the Bay. ‘I used to beat myself up, when I was your age.’
‘What made you stop?’
‘Something I learned a long time ago. Children watch and they emulate. You beat yourself up for everything that happens around you, to you, and that little girl will do the same.’
‘She already does,’ Stevie whispered. ‘I have to make some serious changes. For her.’
‘No. For you. You have to do it for you. You do it for her and you’ll grow to resent the changes and her for forcing you to make them. Do what’s right because it helps you be a better person and, in turn, a better parent. She’ll see and she’ll know it’s real.’
Stevie had to swallow hard. ‘Thank you. For the coffee and the wisdom.’
‘Not my wisdom,’ he said gruffly. ‘My wife spent the best years of her life drumming that into my head. But I was a cop, too. I saw things on the job . . . so many things I couldn’t fix, so many things I wished I could change. I brought the pressure home, even though I didn’t mean to. Then I saw Clay doing what I did, beating himself up. By then it was too late. I’d taught him to be the man he is – a damn good man. There isn’t a better one on God’s green earth.’
His tone dared her to disagree. ‘I know he’s a good man, Tanner. I told him so last night. My wanting him away from Cordelia wasn’t because of him, of the man he is. It was to protect Cordelia’s heart. She gets attached to people. I don’t want her hurt.’
He sighed. ‘My wife said as much to me long ago.’
Stevie heard the echoes of pain in his voice. She’d heard those echoes before in her own voice when she spoke of Paul. After eight years she still did and this man’s loss was even more recent. ‘Clay told me she was a single mom. He also said that you were his father, in every way that mattered,’ she added softly and immediately saw it had been the right thing to say.
‘Thank you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I knew my Nancy had a son before I asked her out, but it took more than a month of dating before she let me meet Clay, and even then it was only because I’d manipulated her into it.’ His lips twitched at the memory. ‘We were supposed to go to the movies, but she cancelled because her sitter got sick. I showed up at her door with three tickets to that night’s Orioles game. When Clay saw those tickets, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas. Nancy was so angry with me, but she agreed to go because she couldn’t disappoint Clay. They didn’t have anything back then. She was waiting tables, barely making ends meet. But she was proud. Never accepted help. Unless it was for her boy.’
‘How old was Clay?’
‘Five. And what a mind that boy had. He knew every player on both teams, their stats, all of it. We had the best evening ever. But when I took them home and she’d put Clay to bed, oh boy, did the sparks fly. She told me that until she knew I was husband material she didn’t want her son to get to know me. She didn’t want him to get attached, only to have me walk away.’ He glanced at her pointedly. ‘Like his father had done.’
Stevie bristled. ‘My husband didn’t walk away. He was murdered.’
‘I know. Clay told me. But the end is the same, right? He’s gone, leaving a hole where a parent should be. You want to protect Cordelia, just like Nancy protected Clay.’
She didn’t think it was the same at all, but saw what he was trying to say and appreciated the attempt. ‘So you understand why I told Clay I didn’t want him to have contact with Cordelia. My wishes had nothing to do with Clay himself. He is a good man. I’ve always known that.’
‘Good. Now, because he is my son and I’ll protect him to my dying breath, I need you to know one more thing. You’re not t
he only one with a tragic past. Clay’s got scars too, mostly inside where he doesn’t let anyone see. Nancy and I waited for years for him to find someone to heal him, to unlock that heart we knew was there. For whatever reason, it was you.’
She sucked in a breath, not knowing what to say.
Tanner stared her down. ‘I don’t understand your reasons for not wanting him, because any woman should be proud to have him. You hurt him when you turned him away. Cut him deep.’
She felt a pain in her heart. Guilt. Remorse. Regret. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.
‘I’m sure you are. Yet here you are.’
Anger sparked. ‘For Cordelia. To keep her safe.’ Something Tanner had said clicked in her brain and she narrowed her eyes. ‘Clay used my daughter’s fear of losing me to manipulate me into agreeing to accept his help. Now I know where he learned the fine art of manipulation.’
Tanner’s eyes flashed, his mouth tightening. Then, unexpectedly, his lips quirked. ‘I can see Clay doing that and I can’t deny that he learned it from me. Please, just be careful with him. When you walk away, try not to hurt him again.’ He took another sip of coffee, then turned on his heel. ‘I believe I smell waffles. Let’s eat before they’re all gone.’
Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 8.30 A.M.
‘You’re sure?’ Robinette asked, keeping his voice icy calm. Inside, his fury roiled. Of all his people, Fletcher was the last person he’d expected to betray him. ‘There’s no doubt?’
‘None,’ Westmoreland said. ‘I got a positive ID on both Henderson and Fletcher from the hotel clerk. I can email you a clip from the hotel’s security video if you want proof.’
‘No, don’t email it.’ Robinette didn’t want any connections the cops could trace back to him. Cell phone conversations were dangerous enough. Even the ‘disposable’ cells they used could be traced if a cop was smart. And Stevie Mazzetti was too damn smart for her own good. And mine. ‘Put it on a flash drive and bring it to me. Where is Henderson now?’
‘Gone,’ Westmoreland said disgustedly. ‘The coffee in the cup next to the bed was still hot. The desk clerk admitted to being paid to look out for me and had called the room.’
