by Jo Davis
“I’m not reassured.”
“I’ll be back soon, baby, don’t worry. Okay?”
Finally, she relented, rolled on top of him and gave him a kiss. “Don’t be gone long or I’ll hunt you down.”
“Sounds like fun. Maybe I’ll let you catch me.” He waggled his tongue lewdly.
She slapped his shoulder. “Idiot.”
Laughing, he dressed. He had the love of his life and his world was back on its axis. After promising to hurry, he left before he was tempted to spread her on her back again.
He whistled all the way to his apartment, wondering if it was too early to discuss moving in together. After all, what sense did it make for both of them to keep driving back and forth? Consolidating was a lot more economical nowadays, and damned convenient for his overactive libido. Of course, he had a feeling he’d have to make his suggestion sound a tad more romantic than that. Women were sensitive about that shit.
But with Shea? Yeah, he could do romantic.
He was almost ready to go when a knock sounded on his door. Wary, he placed his gym bag on the floor by the couch, half expecting Prescott to be waiting on the other side. When he peered out the peephole, however, his brow furrowed. An elderly neighbor? He’d never seen this man before, but he appeared harmless enough.
With a mental shrug, he opened the door to see what the man wanted. “Hello,” he said with a friendly smile. “Can I help you?”
The old man’s shoulders were stooped, and his face was a road map of tough battles fought and won. His height equaled Tommy’s and he might’ve been a big man, once. But his worn button-down plaid shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of khaki pants, hung from his slender frame. He shook, his hands constantly in motion. Parkinson’s, Tommy thought.
His rheumy eyes looked Tommy up and down.
“No, young man. But I believe I might be able to help you. May I come in?”
“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside and gestured for the man to come in. He stood by, ready in case the old dude stumbled or needed assistance, but he made it under his own steam and turned to look at Tommy.
“I’d shake your hand, but . . .” He held up his wrapped extremity.
The old man nodded, solemn. “Quite all right.”
“Would you like to sit down?”
“No, I won’t be here long enough to get comfortable. If I do, I might not get back up. So I’d best get to the point. My name is Joseph Hensley.”
“Tommy Skyler.”
“I know.”
At first, the name meant nothing. But as he considered his visitor, the man’s last name flipped a switch. “Hensley. Are you a relative of Will Hensley’s?”
“Yep, though I can’t say as I’m too proud of that fact at the moment.” He gave a deep, weary sigh. “Let me just cut through the bull and tell you that I’ve had my eye on my grandson for a bit, and I know he’s gotten himself mixed up with some bad folks. I know you’re that firefighter on the news who got hurt in that warehouse, and my Will is at least partially responsible.”
Tommy gaped at him, incredulous. “You know? How?”
“That ain’t important,” Hensley said gruffly. “Obviously you’ve put together some facts of your own, since you ain’t too surprised. The point is, Will’s gonna make this right because his grandpa don’t plan on giving him a choice. Just maybe, everybody can come out of this with their hides intact. ’Cept for Forrest Prescott. I don’t give a rat’s hairy ass what happens to that bastard.”
Unbelievable. “How are you going to make Will cooperate? Whatever he and Prescott have going on, your grandson is in way too deep to pull himself out. The people he’s dealing with are dangerous.”
He didn’t care to tell Hensley what he’d overheard. First, he wasn’t quite sure he could trust the man. Second, something about the old guy tugged at his heartstrings. He didn’t want to hurt this man.
“He’ll do what’s right. I made a phone call to the son of an old friend, and he’s coming here to look into things, all official. Might be talkin’ to you, too. Name’s Nick Westfall, and he’s a special agent with the FBI.”
“Jesus, you don’t screw around, do you?”
“Not when my only family is in trouble, boy. Maybe you can understand that.”
Tommy thought about Donny, lost to their family for three years now. If only there had been a Joseph Hensley to call in reinforcements for his brother back then, someone who knew how to work the hostage situation from the inside, Donny might still be alive. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I sure can.”
Hensley straightened proudly. “I survived World War II, got myself out of more scrapes than you or my grandson could ever think of gettin’ into for the rest of your lives. Will might be a disaster right now, but he’s my disaster and I’ll be damned if I go to my eternal reward before he’s set to rights.”
“He’s lucky to have you, Mr. Hensley.”
“Joseph.” The man studied Tommy’s scarred face, and then gestured to his wrapped hand. “That going to be okay?”
“I’m not going to lose it, but . . . there’s some things that can’t ever be ‘set to rights,’ Joseph. A man who’s survived what you have knows better.”
The old man suddenly looked ancient, and he nodded sadly. “Damned straight. Well, I’d best be on my way.” He shuffled toward the door, stepped outside as Tommy opened it for him, and faced him once more.
“I don’t know if you can forgive my grandson for his part in what happened to you, but I can tell you that boy will pay for his bad choices for the rest of his life. Sometimes that’s enough of a price for any man.”
“Sometimes it is, Joseph,” he agreed around the knot in his throat.
In that moment, any lingering resentment he’d harbored about his newfound disability vanished. No matter how tough life became, there were always those who had it worse.
The old man nodded and made his way down the sidewalk to a waiting taxi Tommy hadn’t noticed before. As it pulled away from the curb, he pondered Joseph’s parting words and wondered what sort of price the old man might’ve paid for his choices.
He supposed he’d never know.
Shea fidgeted, impatient for Tommy to get back. He hadn’t been gone all that long, but she wanted him here, at her side. So what if she was shamelessly addicted to the man? Who wouldn’t be?
She puttered for a while, fed Miss Kitty early to stop her howling, and settled on the end of the sofa in her favorite spot to read a good John Sandford thriller. She’d just managed to get into hunky Lucas Davenport’s latest scrape with a nasty killer when the phone rang.
Getting up, she hurried to the bar and answered without checking the caller ID, hoping it was Tommy. “Hello?”
“Hey, Sis. Been trying to reach your better half and he must have his cell phone turned off.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
“Got some interesting developments in the matter we’ve been discussing, to put it mildly. Can’t talk here, though. I’ve got a dinner break coming to me in about ten minutes. Can you meet me somewhere?”
“Sure.” She fretted, knowing if Shane wanted to meet right away, and wouldn’t discuss it on a work phone, it was important. “Tommy’s supposed to be back soon, but I’m not sure when.”
“Tell you what. I’ll call and leave a message for him to meet us. How about that Chinese place over by Wal-Mart? It’s quiet this time of day.”
So nobody would be around to overhear. Her anxiety ramped up a notch. “Okay. Twenty minutes?”
“See you then.”
Quickly, she retrieved a pad and pen from the bar and wrote Tommy a note, just in case he didn’t think to check his voice mail. Either way, he’d catch up with them.
Slipping on a pair of flip-flops, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed out. All the way to the restaurant, the possibilities of what Shane might have learned ran through her head. Wasn’t much good obsessing over it, though, until they heard it from him.
Inside, Shane was alread
y waiting in a corner booth at the back of the restaurant. As usual, he was seated facing the dining room rather than with his back to it. Cops were a cautious bunch, and often with good reason.
Flashing her a smile, he got up and gave her a brief but fierce hug, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Nope. An hour earlier, however . . .” She let the statement hang, unable to resist needling her twin.
He made a face. “Oh, God. Don’t make me lose my appetite. There are certain things a man does not want to envision about his sister.”
As she laughed, a waitress came to take their drink orders and ask if they just wanted the buffet. They both ordered soda and said yes to the buffet, but that they were waiting on one more person. When the waitress left, she studied her brother.
“Okay, what did you learn that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”
“Sorry, but there were too many ears there.” He glanced around, then pinned her with his gray eyes. “I had an enlightening visit in my office a short while ago. An FBI agent named Nick Westfall showed up with some intriguing information about Prescott.”
Her brows lifted. “How on earth did the FBI get involved so fast?”
“Seems Agent Westfall received a tip about what’s going on from an unnamed source, or more likely, he just didn’t choose to tell me who it was. Anyway, the agent was actually there to speak with the chief and a buddy of mine who happens to be assistant chief about what he’s learned. All of this insurance scam stuff isn’t my department unless a homicide occurs.”
“So why did he come to see you?”
“During the course of the conversation, my buddy became concerned. Told the agent that one of their detectives had a sister who was at least friends with Prescott and that I ought to be in the loop. The agent agreed to stop by and talk to me, as much to pump me for information about your involvement with Prescott as from any real concern for your welfare.”
“He doesn’t honestly think I’ve got anything to do with what Forrest is up to, does he?” The idea was alarming. She wasn’t overjoyed to be on the FBI’s radar, innocent or not.
“By the time we finished talking, no. I don’t think he believes you’re guilty of anything but ignorance.”
She scowled at her brother. “Gee, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed. “The point is, he gave me some information even though he was certainly under no obligation to share. Seems Prescott’s got a nice racket going.”
“Was it what we suspected?”
“Looks that way so far. The FBI hasn’t been able to dig up proof of every single property he owns—that will take time. But of the ones they’ve found so far, each one is listed as being owned by a different dummy corporation. Westfall said the paper trail could pave a road to Mars. The properties are insured by different companies to avoid suspicion when one of them has a claim made against it for damages.”
“This means they’ve traced some of these recent building disasters back to him?”
“Yeah, and not just around here. There are several properties in other states, too. Two of them have been destroyed and received a payout. If it was just a simple scam for Prescott to get rich, though, that would be too easy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Prescott doesn’t have nearly enough money in his bank accounts—at least the ones the FBI has found—to account for the massive fortune they estimate has been scammed. And Will Hensley’s obviously just a lackey. He has a mere fraction of the amount.”
“Perhaps Forrest is diverting the money to a numbered account, planning for the day he skips the country?”
“No, it’s much more sinister than greed, I’m afraid. This is where it gets scary. They’ve found evidence to suggest that the lion’s share is being funneled to a known antigovernment terrorist group being operated right here in the good old U.S.A. We’re talking dangerous Timothy McVeigh types, but more organized.”
“Holy shit.”
“Exactly. And it gets worse. This group was already on the FBI’s and the ATF’s radar, but now the path has finally intersected with tangible evidence of how they’re getting at least some of their funding. The fact that these ties connect to our city did not thrill the shit out of the chief.”
Shea stared at her soda as the waitress set them down and hurried away. “Good God. And I thought this man was my friend. I even tried to convince myself he’d make a good boyfriend, before Tommy and I worked things out. I thought he was safe and boring! How could I have been so blind?”
“He’s a smooth operator, good at feeding people what he wants them to swallow. Needless to say, I want you to stay far, far away from Prescott until they can nail him.”
“As if that’ll be a problem.” She glanced at her watch. “I should try Tommy again. He should’ve called back by now, and this is going to blow his mind.”
Digging her cell phone out of her purse, she checked her messages, but there were no missed calls. She dialed Tommy’s number again, and was exasperated when it immediately went to his voice mail again.
“Hey, Shane and I are at the Chinese place. Come on over when you get this. Love you.” She flipped the phone closed.
“He’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.”
“I know. We’ll just hang out for a while longer, if you won’t get in trouble at work.”
“Hey, I’m a homicide cop. My middle name is Trouble,” he said, teasing.
She laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. What was taking Tommy so long?
As soon as he got here, she’d rest easier.
After Joseph left, Tommy took a drive out to the site of the burned warehouse.
He was drawn here as though by a magnet. He held no real illusion that he could find any clues here, not without training as an arson investigator, but that was okay.
Putting his truck in park, he got out and walked toward the charred mess, getting his first good look at the aftermath. He’d lived through this? Fucking insane.
Nobody crushed underneath this tangle of wood and metal should have made it out alive. The other guy sure hadn’t. Tommy hadn’t realized how truly lucky he’d been. Not in that oh-fuck-I-should-be-dead way.
Until now.
Clenching his good hand into a fist, he recalled the hazy memory of the debris coming down. Being pinned, almost unable to breathe. Of fading to unconsciousness, certain that was to be his last view of the world.
So weird to stand here, safe and sound. Who was the man who’d died in there? Did he truly intend to kill me?
He didn’t know how long he stood there when he remembered Shea. Crap, he’d said he wouldn’t be gone long, and it had been over an hour. On top of that, his phone had been off. Turning it on, he checked his messages and winced to find three. One from Shane and two from Shea. Shane had information and wanted to meet, and they’d decided on going for Chinese.
He dialed Shea’s number and she picked up on the second ring.
“Tommy! Where are you?”
“At the warehouse site. Sorry, baby. I had an unexpected visitor at my place, and then I lost track of time. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. You guys still at the restaurant?”
“Yes, and we haven’t eaten yet. We wanted to wait for you.”
He felt bad about that. “I’ll leave now, okay? Shouldn’t be more than ten, fifteen minutes.”
“All right. See you soon.”
“I love you, cutie.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
Damn. He needed to get going. The phone went into the pocket of his loose shorts.
The noise of a car’s engine caught his attention and he turned to see a dark Escalade approaching, tires crunching on the vacant lot. A familiar man with sandy hair was at the wheel, and Tommy braced himself for an unpleasant little chat.
Shifting on his feet, he didn’t take his eyes off Prescott as the man stepped from his SUV and appro
ached. Despite the heat of the day and the hour, he wore a crisp suit. He moved with confidence, almost a cocky swagger, and Tommy wanted to rip his lungs out just as he had the urge to do on the day of Zack’s wedding.
“Skyler.” The man’s expression was impassive.
“Prescott. Nice afternoon for a drive.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Yep. Thought I’d come here and take a look around, remind myself how lucky I am.”
“You are that, Skyler,” he said thoughtfully. “You are definitely one lucky bastard.”
Something nasty in the depths of Prescott’s gaze made his heart race. “Quite a coincidence, you showing up here. Guess you’re just really dedicated, being city manager and all.”
“Oh, I’m dedicated all right, but I think we both know that’s not why I’m here.” He chuckled softly. “Every lucky streak has to come to an end, wouldn’t you say?”
Tommy concentrated on remaining calm, on bluffing his way out of this. “Not necessarily, and I have no idea why you’re here, unless it’s to harass me for winning Shea. She chose me, so get over it. Have a nice day, Prescott.”
Prescott’s hand disappeared into his suit jacket. A gun suddenly leveled at Tommy’s chest halted his steps.
Oh, fuck.
“What the hell are you doing? Put the gun away,” he said, surprised at how calm and steady he sounded.
“No, I like it just like this.” Prescott shook his head, appearing almost sympathetic. “Poor kid. You just had to get in the middle of business that doesn’t concern you, and now I’m forced to make sure you understand the error of your ways.”
Tommy swallowed hard. Time to pull out all the stops. “I told the police what I heard, and the FBI knows everything, too. Killing me will gain you nothing. If you grab your cash and head out of the country, you can still live like a king. Someplace where nobody knows you, with a new identity.”
Prescott’s smile was cold. “What a marvelous idea! I might just do that, too, after I take care of you for being such a pest. Then again, no one can pin anything on me. Maybe I’ll just stay here and comfort sweet Shea after you’re found dead of an apparent suicide. Everyone will believe the horrible scar and your disability was just too much for you.”
