by Kylie Brant
"No. We've got a list we're following up on with the partial plate number. Something should kick on that soon."
Because he looked a little too lost standing there, a little too vulnerable, she went to him and subtly guided him to the couch. Whatever it was that was bothering him, he'd tell her when he was ready. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch before sinking down in its cushions. But when she was about to sit beside him, he tugged her down onto his lap, burying his face into her hair.
Shock held her immobile. There was nothing sexual in his touch; that she would have been able to handle. It was comfort he was seeking, and she wasn't used to dispensing comfort, at least not in her personal life. Tentatively one arm went up to rest lightly on his shoulders. His heart thudded in her ear, solid and dependable.
She'd never been a lap sitter. But she could get used to the feel of Cade's arms around her holding her tightly, as if he drew solace from having her close. And though the simple pleasure she derived from the contact was just short of terrifying, she could give him this. He appeared to need it.
It was a long time before he spoke, and when he did his voice was quiet. Contemplative. "Did you ever think you knew someone so well that nothing he did could surprise you? Then find out he had this whole different life, a side to him you never would have believed possible?"
Immediately her thoughts went to Liam. The baby brother she'd watched out for. Believed in absolutely. She'd seen in him exactly what she wanted to see. And she was still devastated by the fact that she hadn't known him at all. "Yes." Her voice was as quiet as his.
Her agreement didn't seem to surprise him. His arms just tightened around her. "Internal Affairs has been investigating my late partner. They've been talking a lot of dirt about him, all of it, I figured, without solid proof. That he was taking money from the very scum we work to put away. That maybe he wanted me dead so I wouldn't find out." She jerked at that, she couldn't help it. She knew how he felt about the man he'd partnered with. If it turned out that he was responsible for Cade's near death, she wondered how he would bear it.
"In my family home there's a crest that hangs over the front door as you enter. As long as I can remember, the Tremaines have lived by the words on it. Honor. Duty. Devotion. Old-fashioned, I guess, but there you go."
It was, Shae thought, more than old-fashioned. It was completely outside her realm of experience. Her father had lacked all three traits. Would never consider the lack a failure.
"There comes a time when you have to wonder where loyalty leaves off and naiveté begins." He stroked a hand over her back, to the base and back up again. "I don't know if I hate myself more for having doubts or for not being able to refute them."
It was hard not to ache at the baffled sadness in his voice. Hard not to want to soothe the regret from his face. And because she wanted, badly, to do both, she found herself sharing far more than she ever had before. "Liam, my brother, is in prison." The words were difficult to voice. More difficult to hear. "When I heard he'd been arrested, I was indignant. Terrified for him, but full of righteous rage that such an obvious mistake had been made. I bailed him out, hired him an expensive attorney and threw myself into proving his innocence. Because I was convinced of it, you see. And he never said anything to disabuse me."
She could see quite clearly now that he'd been afraid to. Ashamed. "So we spent months putting together a defense, and I wouldn't allow the lawyer to even talk about a plea bargain. Then we went to court." She remembered the feeling exactly. Having illusions stripped away, one at a time, each with a quick vicious yank that left its own wound. "The evidence was so damning. The detective on the stand kept talking, and every word he said built this wall of evidence that just kept going higher and higher. But still I didn't quite believe it. Not until I looked across the room and saw that Liam couldn't meet my eyes. Then I knew."
It had been too late by that time, of course. Too late for a deal or to mount an argument based on his lack of priors. His plea of innocence in the face of such overwhelming proof smacked of a complete lack of remorse. The ambitious prosecutor had asked for, and received, the stiffest sentence possible.
"Then I expect you know how I feel about the evidence I saw against Brian." His voice was grim, regretful. "I still can't believe it. I can't ignore it. And I'm having a hell of a time explaining it. But I want to. God, do I want to."
She tipped her head to look directly at him. "If the proof exists, you'll find it." She was certain of that. She'd never met a man more tenacious. And if proof didn't exist … well, he'd learn to live with that, just as she had. To readjust what he thought he knew about his partner and continue to love the best part of him.
The softness in his eyes as he studied her had her pulse thrumming. Her inner alarm shrilling. Now was the time to discreetly disentangle and send him on his way. Before more vulnerabilities could be exposed. Before weaknesses could be exploited.
But it didn't feel like weakness when her lips parted under his. Didn't feel like a mistake to exchange a kiss as soft as gossamer, so achingly tender that her limbs threatened to melt in a gooey puddle right there in his arms. Somewhere in the distance was a ringing sound. She traced the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue and let herself drift in the languid lazy pleasure of it.
A moment later Cade was pulling away to cock his head. "Is that your phone?"
Their gazes met. Comprehension returned sluggishly. Shae struggled to her feet, would have stumbled if Cade hadn't steadied her. On legs that were a little too wobbly for her liking, she crossed to the phone on the kitchen counter. Pride demanded that her spine be a little straighter, that her mind be a little less fuzzy. But she hadn't accomplished either by the time she picked up the receiver.
"Angel Eyes."
Blood that had slowed and thickened only moments before abruptly chilled. Shae tried to swallow, found she couldn't. Her gaze went to the man who'd risen from the couch. "Jonny."
Cade's expression transformed with stunning suddenness. Gone was the disillusioned friend, the tender lover. The grim-faced cop was back.
"I been thinkin' about you, Doc." Cade had already taken the cell phone from his jacket. He was talking quietly into it as he took the stairs two at a time to her bedroom and the second phone. His action brought her a measure of calm.
"I've been thinking about you, too. Wondering where you were." That, at least, was the truth. "When are we going to meet?" Cade was coming back down the stairs with the other phone, and he glared at her from across the room, violently shaking his head.
"Soon." LeFrenz crooned the word. "Won't be much longer now. I got things to take care of first. Business before pleasure, ya know what I mean?"
"Sure, I know. How's the injury coming?"
"Healin' real good. Ain't gonna slow me down when you and me get together. Don't worry about that."
She took a deep breath. "You wait much longer and we're not going to get together at all." Cade's eyes narrowed dangerously as he strode toward her, still holding both phones.
Deliberately she said, "I've got a vacation planned in a few days. I won't be around for a while."
It was all too easy to read the words Cade mouthed at her. What the hell do you think you're doing? But she knew exactly what she was doing. She was bringing things to a head. She was taking control of her life again, whether he approved of the way she did it or not.
It was apparent from the fury on his face that he didn't approve at all.
"In that case I'll have to work something out, Angel Eyes. I'll be seeing you real soon. Until then you give Tremaine a message for me."
Her heart stopped. She stared up at Cade, eyes wide. "Tremaine?"
"I know he's been around. Seen him go into your place a time or two. Didn't much like to think about you two together." LeFrenz's voice was ugly. "You tell him next time he comes round that I'll be seein' him, too. And he's going to pay. For everything."
The line disconnected. Cade
turned away to speak into the cell phone. "What's the address?" He listened for a moment, then ran for the door.
"Wait." She followed him, saw him race down the hallway.
"Lock your door!" he ordered over his shoulder. "And stay put!"
Cade's car screeched to a halt outside a crowded blues bar on Bourbon Street
, the auxiliary light flashing on his dash. The street was crowded with black-and-whites and rubber-neckers. He elbowed his way through the people, flashed his shield at the uniform attempting to do crowd control.
"They chased your man down the street there, Detective."
Cade jogged in the direction the man had pointed until he saw a cluster of officers from his district. He began cursing, savagely. If there was good news to report, they wouldn't all be standing around. "How'd he get away?" he asked flatly, walking up to the group.
Josh Birtch spoke. "Couple of patrolmen were in the vicinity and were first on the scene. I was next, along with Pascan and Pearce. When LeFrenz saw the patrolmen he ran into a tour group." He made an expression of disgust. "They lost him in the crowd."
Cade looked around. It didn't matter the time, the day or the season. Bourbon Street
, a tourist mecca, was in a constant state of revelry. Ghost tours, graveyard tours, voodoo tours … LeFrenz couldn't have chosen a better place to disappear.
He heaved a sigh. "Canvass started?" Birtch nodded. "Okay. Let's split up."
With the disappointment of the previous night still burning a hole in his gut, Cade pulled up outside Security
First Federal and parked in the bank's lot. The tap and trace had worked beautifully. The phone company had gotten them the number in record time. And still somehow LeFrenz had managed to slip away. They'd canvassed the area until near dawn and came up with people who'd seen LeFrenz, but not where he'd gone. Cade was beginning to believe the guy lived a charmed life. But not for long.
Because he was going after Shae. Cade shook out a couple of photos from the envelope on the seat next to him and got out of the car. He'd known what she was doing last night, and if he'd had the time, he would have given her the hell she deserved. She'd been inciting the man to act. Sooner, rather than later. When he'd heard her words, his blood had turned to ice. This case was going to be solved without using Shae as bait. He didn't even want to think about LeFrenz getting that close to her and was going to do his damnedest to prevent it.
Pushing open the bank doors, he surveyed the area carefully. A half-dozen tellers were open. He glanced up at the ceiling, found the cameras spotting the area. The same cameras that Morrison claimed had caught Brian on tape.
He headed to the teller closest to him, intending to work himself down the counter. His meeting with Morrison had had an unintended advantage. He could openly do some checking on the evidence the man had shown him. And he couldn't prevent the stubborn ray of hope that he was going to discover something that would clear his partner, a hope that survived despite the cloud of doubts.
"Can I help you, sir?" The teller was young and had a polite smile. Cade flashed his shield and pulled a picture of Brian from his pocket. He slid it across the counter toward her. Before he could say anything, she looked at it and nodded. "Oh, yes. I remember him."
A swipe to the jaw would have been easier to bear. "You do?"
She nodded. "The other detectives that were here? They showed pictures of this man, too."
Cade took a deep breath, released it. "Do you remember ever waiting on him?"
She shook her head firmly. "No, and I told them that."
He thanked her and went to the next line, waiting his turn to play the same scene with that teller. And then the next. And the next. By the time he'd talked to all the tellers, instinct was stirring. How was it possible that no one remembered waiting on Brian?
It was such a small thing, he reflected, heading back to the car, to raise his spirits once more. Apparently it didn't take much for hope to elbow aside those pesky doubts.
At Lieutenant Howard's invitation, Cade pushed open the man's office door with barely concealed impatience. His superior looked up from the paperwork spread on his desk and scowled. "You better have a damn good excuse for missing the meeting this morning."
The session with LeFrenz's investigative team. By going to the bank first thing, Cade had known he'd miss it, but had figured it would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission. "You can catch me up." The scowl turned thunderous. Cade pushed a chair up closer to the man's desk and dropped into it. "I had a little talk with Morrison last night. Before the LeFrenz thing broke."
Howard's expression lightened. Cade wasn't off the hook yet, but it was a start. "And?"
"So I played it like we talked about. Got him to meet me without Torley, and he laid out some of what they've got on Brian. He showed me a bank book with cash deposits."
"See a signature?"
"It looked like Brian's," Cade admitted. "Morrison claimed they found it in his garage. Said they caught him on camera in the bank lobby."
Rubbing a hand over his forehead, the lieutenant said morosely, "Well, I knew they had to have something to go on. Damn."
"Listen, though. I went to the bank this morning and showed pictures of him around, and get this. No one remembers him. Oh, sure, they remember I.A. flashing pictures, but not one teller could say she'd ever waited on him."
The lieutenant dropped his pen and clasped his hands on his desk. "Cade," he said gently, "there comes a time when even we have to look at the evidence."
Stunned, Cade stared at the man. "Haven't you heard a thing I've been saying? No one saw him there. There's not one eye-witness account. Morrison even said the camera caught him in the lobby. Not in a teller line, in the lobby. They have one of those desks set up in the center of the place that they staff with one of those perky older ladies with fancy hair and perfect teeth?" The woman had reminded him of his great-aunt Edith without the facelift. "It's their job to direct customers, offer coffee—she never saw him, either. Never talked to him." Cade could see he wasn't convincing the lieutenant. The man couldn't seem to look at him.
Leaning forward, Cade braced his hands on his superior's desk. "I stood there and watched the woman for fifteen minutes. If they get within twenty feet of her desk, she's talking to them. But if someone just walks in through the doors, stays by the windows, they'd be caught on one of the cameras." Lieutenant Howard looked up finally, contemplated him.
"I talked to the gal in charge of opening new accounts, too. According to the dates in the bank book Morrison showed me, there were nine transactions dating a couple months before Brian's death. But she didn't remember waiting on him, either. Neither did any of the tellers in the drive-up line."
"Exactly what are you suggesting?"
"That the book was planted. That the deposits were set up to make Brian look dirty. Hell, anyone with a copy of his signature could do a decent job duplicating it."
"And this same person went to the trouble of having identification made with Brian's name on it so that they could open an account there?"
Recognizing the disbelief in the man's voice, Cade crossed his arms. "It could happen."
"Then tell me why. Why would someone go to that trouble? Better yet, tell me who. You don't think I.A. planted that evidence, do you? What reason would they have?"
"I don't have it all figured out yet," Cade admitted.
Howard folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "I know what Hollister meant to you. What he meant to this squad. But none of this helps clear him. You see that, don't you? It doesn't look good for him at all."
Cade knew how it looked. Last night he'd battled those same doubts. The kind that swirled up from the bottom of the mind like a nasty little fog, obscuring everything he'd once been certain of. But today was different. Something about this whole thing didn't add up. Cade didn't know how to make the lieutenant see that.
"Brian was a smart guy, wouldn't you agree?"
Howard shoved away from
the desk in apparent disgust.
"With all the cases he worked," Cade went on, "drugs especially, he knew a hell of a lot about laundering dirty money. Doesn't it strike you the slightest bit odd that he'd waltz right into a busy bank complete with security cameras and plop the extra dough there?"
"I know what you're saying." The patience in Howard's voice was difficult to take, but not as difficult as the note of sympathy. "Keep looking into it, if you want. Just don't … don't bring any I.A. attention on yourself in the process."
Cade's gaze met his superior's. The man's words reminded him for a moment of Quentin's warning last night. The job is looking at you, too. If the narcotics task-force officer was right, the lieutenant's warning came much too late.
He felt a slice of disappointment at the knowledge that he'd failed to convince his lieutenant of all the holes in I.A.'s case. But he hadn't been told to stop nosing around in it. He'd take what he could get for now. "Any sighting of LeFrenz since last night?" he asked.
Howard shook his head in disgust. "Guy's like a ghost. But we're working down the lists for the plates, his cell phone and the contacts in his notebook. Here's yours." Cade took the paper the man held out, looked at it. "Birtch has been waiting for you. Take him along."
Recognizing his dismissal, Cade turned to go. He got to the door before Howard's voice stopped him. "Tremaine?"
Cade looked at him.
"I hope you're right about Hollister. I really do."
Nodding, Cade left. It was going to take a helluva lot more than luck to get the proof he'd need to offset the evidence I.A. had against Brian. And more than a little luck to find it.
Shae answered the intercom, a smile playing around her mouth when she recognized Cade's voice. "Forgotten how to use a telephone, Detective?"
"You should be more polite to a guy intent on feeding you." His voice was amused, a teasing note alive in it.
