by C. J. Parker
Derek leaned back in his chair and took a swig of coffee. “No, not really. We found a doll on the riverfront, but it meant nothing to Tabatha. Just some kid’s prank.”
“Kid’s prank?” Nyssa’s brows rose sharply.
Covering her mouth with her hand, Tabatha struggled not to laugh at the outrage on Nyssa’s face.
Derek shrugged. “Yeah. We tossed it in the garbage.”
“The garbage?” Nyssa’s face reddened and she stammered a rush of guttural sounds before pulling herself together. “Did you see this doll, Tabby?”
Derek tapped the toe of his shoe against Tabatha’s heel. She shook her head. “No. Why would I? It had nothing to do with me.” Except that you intended it to scare the shit out of me. Well you succeeded. But never again, woman. I’m on to you.
Nyssa glanced from one to the other. “Then why are the cops sitting out front like they’re guarding the place from marauders?”
“They’re waiting for me,” Derek said before lifting his cup to his lips. Bertha took the pot from Nyssa’s hands and placed it on the stove. “We’ll have this for lunch. Too early to be eating soup now.”
A thought rushed across Tabatha’s mind. Where were the girls? Where was Shane? Her back stiffened. “Where is everyone?”
Bertha pointed over her head. “When I left to go to the store this morning, they were still asleep. I guess they still are. Though, it’s strange for Shane not to be up and about by now.” She glanced at the clock on the range. “It’s almost ten o’clock. I’ll go rouse them.”
Tabatha watched her leave the room before turning her attention to Nyssa. “Thanks for the soup. That was kind of you.”
The old woman’s eyes darted to the pot then back to Tabatha. “I best be going. I’ve got some weeding to do in the front beds. And the sprinkler system needs flushing out.” She nodded curtly to Derek. “Detective.” She waved goodbye to Tabatha and closed the door behind her. A relief so forceful it nearly knocked Tabatha to her knees. That would be the last time she’d let that woman into her house.
Derek leaned close. “Do you have a container?”
“A container?” She was having a hard time figuring out what he meant at first. “What do you need it for?”
“I want to take some of that soup to the lab before Bertha pours it down the disposal.”
Should she tell him her suspicions that Nyssa might be poisoning her momma? Ask him for the test results to compare to the results of the test Tabatha would insist the doctors do? “Under the sink.”
Derek ladled out a large portion of the soup and fastened the lid onto an old mayonnaise jar.
Bertha’s wail trailed down from the second floor followed by thunderous footfalls on the stairway. She rushed into the kitchen waving a piece of paper. “They’re gone. They took them. They took the baby.”
Tabatha’s heart skipped a beat, her chest squeezed against her lungs. “Oh, Sweet Jesus. Why didn’t I check on them when I first got home?”
Derek grabbed Bertha’s shoulders and shook. “Who took the baby?”
“I don’t know.” She handed Tabatha the note. “What does it mean? What do they want?”
“They who?” Derek’s voice dripped with impatience.
Tabatha’s face paled. “Phelps.”
“How do you know?” Derek stared her in the eyes. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”
Tabatha read the note aloud. “It’s me or no one.” Her heart raced. “He said those exact words to me at the warehouse last night.”
Tabatha’s cell phone rang. She reached for it, but Derek beat her to it. “Unknown caller.” He looked at her for a long moment before handing her the phone.
“Dr. Gray.”
“Hello, darlin’.”
Every nerve twitched. Her stomach fell to her feet. She glanced at Derek and nodded. “What do you want, Phelps? I’m busy.”
“Oh, you’re never too busy for your friends, are you? I have them you know.”
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Her blood pressure pounded against her temples. “Where are they?” She turned the note over and mimicked writing. Derek handed her the pen from his pocket.
“Can’t tell you that.”
Tabatha wanted to reach through the phone lines and pull him through, one cell at a time. “Okay, where are you?”
“You know where I am. I’m in the hospital. Good alibi, I think.”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Seen Cookie lately?” She glanced at Derek and smiled at his frown. “Hello. Phelps, you still there?”
“Cookie isn’t your problem, darlin’.” His voice was gruff with annoyance.
She’d struck a nerve.
Tabatha laughed. “No, she’s your problem, darlin’.” Saying the endearment nearly choked her. “Cookie knows about her boy. She knows you killed him and his friends.”
“She can’t. No one knows.”
Tabatha smiled broadly. Gotcha!
“I know.”
She wrote on the paper: He admitted it!
Phelps voice came in a hiss of fury. “Come to me, now. If you don’t want your friends to end up dead, you’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
White noise filled the receiver. She winced at the sudden change in sound. She worried if she’d done the right thing. She’d managed to piss Phelps off. That could backfire. “I think I hurt his feelings.”
Derek’s face twisted with anger. “Why did you tell him that? He’s not going to let you go now.”
“Let me go? He doesn’t have me, Derek. He has my friends and Shane.” She snorted. “He wants me to come to the hospital.”
“No!” His face was as flushed as a stoplight. “I forbid it.”
Tabatha kissed him softly though she didn’t take kindly to his tone. “Baby, you can’t forbid me to do anything. I’m going.” He opened his mouth to reply but she covered his mouth with her hand. “You can wait outside the room. Listen. Maybe you should get someone else to be there as a witness.”
He grasped her hand and moved it away from his mouth, but kept it in a firm grip. “Witness to what? Your murder?”
“He won’t harm me in such a public place.” She pulled her hand out of his and took her jacket off a hook by the door. “But, I bet I can get him to do a lot of talking. He wants me. Thinks we’re two of a kind, he and I.”
Derek jumped from his chair knocking it to the floor with a thump. “Well, he can’t have you.”
“And why is that, Derek?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and then a thick silence fell between them. “Because you’re mine.”
She swallowed the laughter of joy that threatened to bubble from deep within her. Instead, she placed her hand over his heart and smiled. “Yes, Derek, I am.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Visiting hours were over when Tabatha followed Derek into the hospital to meet up with Hal and Travis at the hospital. She shook her head at the ease of what a flash of a badge and a few discrete words to the hospital administrator could obtain. Tabatha advanced to Phelps’ room and waited until Derek and Hal had positioned themselves to the left of the door and Travis to the right.
Tabatha steadied her breathing, rolled her shoulders and tried to appear calm. She looked at Derek and nodded. She was ready. Well not ready, but willing.
She pushed the door to Phelps’ room open until the hydraulic mechanism froze it in an open position. Vases of flowers lined the windowsill and every tabletop. Tabatha listened to Phelps’ slow deep intakes of breath and watched the movement of his eyes under closed lids. Nightmares she hoped.
She moved closer, but still out of Phelps’ reach and shouted, “I’m here, Phelps. Now, where are my friends?”
Phelps jerked out of sleep, and looked around the room as if not sure where he was. His search ended with her. “Hello, darlin’. It’s good of you to come see me. Shut the door and come closer.”
She ambled toward him, and clenched her hands into fists at
her sides. Visions of choking the life out of the bastard flashed across her mind. No. She was better than he was. He deserved the full drill. A trial. His name splashed over the front page. The sentence. “The door stays open.”
“No need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” He gestured grandly with an exaggerated wave. “Like my new room? No more dangling leg.”
She shrugged remembering how she’d let is leg drop out of the sling. “Too bad. I rather enjoyed the toy myself.”
His expression hardened. “That wasn’t nice of you, Tabatha. You need to be spanked for being so mean to me.”
His sexual innuendo turned her stomach. She didn’t have time for his games, and didn’t know how much it would take of remarks like that before Derek stormed in and took control. “Enough of your games, Phelps. Why did you take my friends?”
“Why, darlin’, I’m in the hospital.” He reached over to the bedside table and pulled a cigar out of the drawer. “How could I have anything to do with the disappearance of your friends?”
“Do you really think I’m so stupid to think you’re not powerful enough to have them taken?” She yanked the cigar out of his hands and hurled it across the room. “What I don’t understand is why.”
“I warned you, Tabatha. It’s me, or no one.” The thought of no one sent a surge of loneliness over her like a lead shroud, and the thought of something happening to Derek shot fear-fed adrenaline to her brain.
“They were taking up too much of your time. Bainbridge will be next, but since he’s a cop, it’ll take a bit of planning. Not like that scared little girl, Rhonda. Such a cry baby, that one.”
Tabatha’s face burned, the pressure behind her eyeballs pressed painfully against them, but with a struggle, she held her temper at bay. “What do you want from me?”
“Just you, darlin’.”
For how long? How many women have you had? How long before you grew tired of them? Why should I trust you? I don’t even know you. I know nothing about you. Why would I choose to be with a complete stranger?” She looked at him from head to toe. He had the looks some women found attractive. But if they looked deeper, they’d see the ugliness. “Especially one with so many secrets.”
“What do you want to know?” Phelps eased back against his pillow and winced. “I’m an open book, if you’ll only turn the pages and read.”
Tabatha counted to ten, pulled in a calming breath and sat on the bedside chair. “Tell me about the Guardians. When did you form your little club?”
Phelps laughed. “My little club? The Guardians aren’t my creation. I’m just their enforcer.”
“Who is in charge of it, then?” She waited, hoping she’d get the answer they needed to stop the Guardians.
“Few people know, and I’m not one of them.” That wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for.
“Then how do you get your assignments?”
“I have contact with one member. He comes to me with who and when.” He leaned closer and winked at her. “Your lover would be surprised to hear he’s a cop.”
She glanced toward the door. Derek must be clawing the walls about now. “Cold and calculating, no feeling toward your victims at all. Killing is just a job to you.”
His shot a glance toward the open doorway. “Who said I killed anyone?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. When she stood to leave, Phelps reached out and grabbed her hand. “Where do you think you’re going? I haven’t said you could leave yet.”
A film of red distorted her vision. “You do not say when I can leave or stay. I am my own person. No one tells me what to do.”
He frowned and tilted his head giving her a questioning gaze. “Not even Bainbridge?”
“No one. Let go of my hand. Now.”
His perfectly manicured nails dung into the palm of her hand. Two tiny trails of blood trickled to the floor. The pain grew as his grip tightened. The red veil darkened, the pressure behind her eyes grew, the vase of roses on the windowsill vibrated.
His grin was more of a sneer. “And if I don’t?
A vase of roses flew through the air and landed with a crash above his head. He jerked the covers up to protect himself from the flying glass. This was the first time Tabatha wasn’t ashamed of letting her powers burst free. She rather enjoyed it.
“Son-of-a-bitch, Tabatha. Shit like that is why they want you dead.” He threw the sheet off the bed and broken glass clattered to the floor. “But I can keep you safe. I’ll take you away where they’ll never find us. If you stay here and I don’t kill you, they’ll find someone to do it.”
“Where are my friends?” He reached for her, but Tabatha backed away.
“Darlin’, my terms must be met. Me or no one.” This was beginning to sound like a broken record. “Me, and your friends go free. Choose Bainbridge, and you all die. It’s on your shoulders. How much do you love your friends?”
What did he know about love? Or friends for that matter? Did he have any? She was tired of this game. “Where would we go?”
He smiled and relaxed against the pillows. “I have a chateau in Switzerland. Ever been to Europe, darlin’?”
Tabatha nodded. “Where are they?”
“They will be released when we are on our way.” A satisfied smile stretched across his face. He thought he’d won.
Tabatha shook her head. “No. I get them back now, or no deal.” Cookie rushed into the room, her face livid with rage. “You son-of-a-bitch. I’ll kill you.”
Phelps looked accusingly at Tabatha as she backed toward the door. He then returned his attention to his wife. A growl erupted from deep within his chest. “What the hell are you doing here, Cookie? Why aren’t you at home?”
“You lying bastard. You’re going to run off with this bitch and leave me with nothing? She warned me, but I didn’t believe her.” The irate woman covered her face and wept into her hands.
“Cookie, you know I’d never leave you. I needed her help, that’s all.” Cookie dropped her hands away from her face. “Go to hell, John. I’m leaving. You can have this bitch.”
Derek reached out and grabbed for Cookie as she ran from the room. Tabatha quickly stepped in front of the door, blocking Phelps’ view. “Oops. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to mess up your love life.”
He shrugged and snorted. “Good riddance. I’ll be out of here in two days. Be ready to leave, Tabatha.”
She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “My friends?” “They’ll meet us at the airport.”
Tabatha walked to the door, giving him no answer. “Goodbye, Phelps.”
“Do we have a deal?”
She shot him the bird, tugged at the door letting it shut slowly behind her. His bellow followed her down the hall. She released a breath so heavy with relief she feared she might collapse.
Travis walked at her side. “Cookie handled her role in this really well but broke down when she got to the waiting room. I think she’s ready to talk.”
Tabatha nodded. “A broken heart is a lethal weapon.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tabatha and Derek sat outside Phelps’ house watching shadows move across the shaded widows of the second floor. Cookie had said that Rhonda, Shane and Bobbie were in the left front corner bedroom. Dana and Dub, friends of Phelps’ she’d said, were keeping watch.
Tabatha broke the silence. “Dana and Dub are two of the voices on the tape. This proves Phelps is ass deep in this.”
Derek nodded. “I couldn’t have phrased it better myself. I still think you should have gone home and let us—”
“No. They’re my friends. I got them into this. I’ll get them out. Besides, Phelps’ goons won’t hurt me. They’re scared of Phelps and what he’d do to them if they harm me. There’s no such protection for you and your men.” She glanced out the back window to the car parked behind them. “They’re waiting for us?”
Derek swiveled in his seat to look behind them. “Yeah. I told them to let me go first. I’d signal when I had the place figu
red out. Cookie said the patio doors were unlocked.”
“You shouldn’t trust Cookie completely. She loves Phelps, and love is an unreliable witness.” Tabatha waited until Derek’s attention was on oncoming headlights before she reached for the door and slipped out of the car. The heat and humidity wrapped around her like a wet, wool blanket. The TV from the house next door blared the winner of some reality show. The grass crunched under her feet, from too long with no rain.
Tabatha looked down the street. Not a soul to be seen. She ran across the yard to the back, sliding along the house until she could peek through the patio doors.
Inside the house, a wall-sized aquarium supplied the only source of light in the room, casting shadows from the furniture onto the walls. A large yellow cat lay on the coffee table, its eyes peering through the darkness, its tail moving in time to an old grandfather clock ticking off the seconds.
Someone grasped Tabatha’s wrist. She jumped, turning to see Derek behind her. “You scared me.”
His eyes were aflame with anger. “I told you to stay in the car.”
She gritted her teeth and snarled at the obstinate man. “And I told you they’re my friends.”
“Can’t you two do this later,” Hal whispered from the corner of the house. “The lights just went out upstairs.” Tabatha smiled at Hal.
Derek glared. “You’re no better at following orders that she is.” Hal shrugged.
Derek edged closer before inching his head around the doorframe.
Tabatha reached out and tested the door to see if was unlocked as Cookie said it’d be. It slid open about an inch when the cat’s head snapped around and the overhead lights came on. Tabatha jumped back but stayed close enough to see inside the room. She glanced at the others to see if they showed any sign of hearing her heartbeat.
A man and woman strolled into the room. The woman sat on the leather couch, leaned back and lifted her feet onto the slab-style coffee table, kicking the cat away. “Filthy animal.”
The man stooped behind the bar and reappeared with two beers. “Cookie should be home any time now. I wouldn’t be kicking Sinopa if I were you.”
She snorted. “When Phelps gets rid of that bitch, I’m going to send that cat to hell.” She glanced over the back of the couch toward the bar. “Dub, are you going to stand there until those beers get hot?”
