McGregor shrugged. ‘Happens to all of us at one time or another. That’s the job.’
‘Yup.’ I stared at Mia covered with my plaid shirt. Could hardly believe she was dead. ‘But this was my mistake. I should have—’
‘If you hadn’t got to know her we would never have found Gibson. She called you because she was in trouble, and you found Searle and the location of this place because you went to check she was okay.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I was wrong before. I should have listened to you. They’d have got away if you’d not been here.’
I shivered, feeling cold despite the heat of the sun and my T-shirt and the undone vest. I didn’t speak. Kept staring at Mia’s body. If I’d not followed her she’d still be alive. Her son Jacob would still have a mother. Gibson and her would’ve had a chance at their own kind of happy ending. All I’d brought instead was an ending. Again guilt twisted in my stomach.
McGregor’s voice drew my attention back to him. ‘What did she mean about you wanting the same things?’
I looked at him. I supposed telling him the truth couldn’t hurt. ‘She told me before that all she wanted was a chance to live with Gibson and their son Jacob as a family. They’d never had it. Her husband, Marco, beat her, murdered innocent people and manipulated the law to frame Gibson when he learned Jacob wasn’t his. Mia had wanted to escape him for years.’
‘So what are you looking to escape from?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not trying to escape anything. I made a deal with Monroe that if I found Gibson and brought him in, Monroe would get the father of my child off the false homicide charges he’s awaiting trial for.’ I didn’t say we’d been estranged for ten years. I didn’t say my child barely knew her father. I didn’t tell him that I feared living together in case it broke us. ‘I want my family together, too.’
McGregor nodded. His jaw tightened, and although he didn’t speak about it, I figured he was thinking about his wife and unborn child. From what Bobby Four-Fingers had told me, and the emotion-filled expression on McGregor’s face, I knew he’d have given everything to bring them back.
I put my hand over his.
We sat that way for a few minutes – until we heard engines approaching.
I glanced at McGregor. ‘Was Monroe coming alone?’
‘I thought so.’
Something was wrong. There was more than one vehicle. Their engines were loud. Their speed too fast, too urgent.
I leaped up, hurried to doorway and peeped round the frame. Two cars skidded to a halt, dust blooming around them. Doors opened. Men approached, their guns trained on the doorway to the barn.
I turned to McGregor. Mouthed the word, ‘Cops.’
He looked real surprised.
‘You’re surrounded,’ the officer in the left-hand car said into a loudspeaker. ‘Drop your weapons, and come out slow.’
We weren’t going to argue. Just needed to move slow enough not to spook them. We didn’t want to get caught in friendly fire.
Inside the barn, McGregor strode over to me. Unbuckled his holster and raised it high. I nodded and we stepped into the doorway together, hands high.
The cops put us on the ground before we could tell them who we were.
53
Being face down in the dirt with my hands cuffed behind my back had not been part of the plan. My chest was aching from taking two bullets in the vest; fear clawed at my throat, dust coated my lips, making me cough. What if we got arrested? What if Monroe let the cops take us? What if I didn’t get to see Dakota again?
I looked at McGregor. He’d been put face down on my right. ‘We need to tell them who we are, why we’re here,’ I whispered.
‘We will.’
He was too unconcerned for my liking. The cops had left us and were inside the barn. They were first responders, not detectives. Most likely they’d put Mia and Gibson together and add it up to something different than it was. I couldn’t have that.
‘Sir?’ I called out. ‘We need to speak.’
No answer. But I could hear them moving around in the barn; footsteps, the noise of crates being moved.
‘Sir? I need to speak to the officer in charge.’
‘Shut it, yeah,’ said a male voice from above me. A pair of black boots attached to legs in black pants came into view. I couldn’t see higher than their calves.
‘We’re bounty hunters,’ I said. ‘The man in there is Gibson Fletcher – Gibson “The Fish” Fletcher. He’s a wanted fugitive. We’ve called it in, so the FBI will be here real soon.’
The cop laughed. ‘Yeah, sure, whatever you say, lady. And I’m the queen of England.’
‘She’s telling the truth.’ McGregor’s voice was firm, no bullshit. ‘My licence is in my right back pocket.’
‘Give it a rest, yeah. We’ll take a look when we’re ready.’ From the way he spoke, it was real clear he’d tried and convicted us in his mind already. He never checked our pockets.
‘But it’s important. If you just take a moment to look…’
There was a shout from inside the barn. The boots turned. I heard footsteps retreating. Glanced around as best I could. The cop had gone. I never thought I’d think it, but right then I sure hoped Monroe would arrive real soon.
‘Some polis are real assholes,’ McGregor said.
The fear tightened around my throat, threatening to choke me all over again. I couldn’t go to jail. Dakota needed me. Needed at least one of her parents. I tried to keep my voice steady as I said, ‘For sure.’
McGregor seemed to sense my fear. He held my gaze. ‘Monroe will fix this, don’t worry.’
I nodded. Tried to act like I knew it would be fine. Gibson had thought Monroe would fix things for him, and I’d seen how that’d turned out. I hoped McGregor’s relationship with Monroe held more currency.
‘How’d you get to know Monroe anyways?’ I asked. ‘From what I hear he’s the country-club type. Doesn’t seem like that’d be your scene.’
McGregor grimaced. ‘I wasn’t always a bounty hunter.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Monroe’s always been FBI.’
‘True. And sometimes even the FBI need help.’
‘Like on this job?’
‘Yes and no.’ McGregor’s expression told me that was as much as he wanted to tell.
I wasn’t satisfied with that. ‘How?’
McGregor clenched his jaw. Fixed me with an intense stare. ‘You and me, we’re friends right now, but don’t push me, okay? I can’t tell you, so I won’t. That’s the end of it.’
I frowned. The secrecy made me wonder all the more on what had brought Monroe and McGregor together. McGregor had been military before becoming a bounty hunter, I wondered if that had been something to do with it.
Before I had the chance to ask, I heard an engine getting closer. I strained my neck to look past the cop cars and saw another vehicle approaching along the track. I glanced at McGregor. ‘Monroe?’
‘Let’s hope so.’
*
Monroe took charge from the moment he got out of his car. Five minutes later we’d been uncuffed. Within another ten he had us cleared of suspicion, and in five more the crime scene had been handed over to the FBI.
The cops didn’t put up much of a fight. It seemed they were happy to sit this one out, so long as they could claim the glory for catching Gibson. Monroe made the deal, and the cops took him away.
I won’t ever forget the anguish on Gibson’s face as they forced him to his feet and dragged him from Mia’s body. The way he twisted his head back, straining for a last look at her. He dragged his feet as they all but carried him from the barn, the Taser wires still hanging from the probes embedded in his chest. Mia’s blood was smeared down one side of his face and across the front of his shirt. With his hands still cuffed he wasn’t able to wipe it off.
I stepped towards him. Asked the cops to stop a moment.
Taking a tissue from my pocket, I wiped the blood from his skin. He didn’t look at me, kep
t his eyes trained on the earth. The man who’d attacked me in the parking lot a week ago had disappeared. This Gibson Fletcher was broken by loss, and I doubted he’d ever recover. I knew, deep down, that I was responsible.
I stepped aside and watched as the cops manhandled Gibson towards their cars. I thought of Mia never getting the chance to live with her man, of their son Jacob never experiencing a real family life, and I wanted to cry.
Monroe’s bark pulled me back into the moment. ‘Now get the hell out of here. I’ll handle things. Then we’ll meet back at the bond shop in a few hours.’ From his tone it was real clear the situation had made him pissed.
Well, I was pissed at him, too, for lying to me from the get-go. I wasn’t going to let him push me around. ‘How did the cops find us?’
‘They got a call. A couple of hikers on Pine Pass heard the gunshots and called 911.’
Shit. ‘How’d they even get a signal?’
‘No idea. But they did, and so the damn circus came to town.’ Monroe looked over at Gibson. The cops were loading him into the back of one of their cars. They weren’t none too gentle about it. ‘Now I’ve got to clean up the mess.’
I rubbed my wrists. I’d not be cuffed long, but the cops hadn’t been gentle with me either, and the metal had chaffed against my skin. ‘What’ll happen to Gibson?’
‘They’ll process him. Then he’ll be transferred back to prison.’
‘Did you get to—’
‘Get out of here, okay.’ Monroe’s tone was hard. ‘Go, now.’
I knew then I needed to prepare myself for trouble.
54
Monroe was going to burn me. He’d burst into McGregor’s bond shop ten minutes earlier with a face like a grizzly that’d eaten a bee, and things had got worse from there. I was perched on the edge of Bobby Four-Fingers’ desk. Monroe was standing beside the spare workstation.
McGregor moved past him to the front door, flipped the sign to ‘Closed’ and turned the lock. He faced Monroe. ‘You were saying?’
‘You screwed up. It’s over,’ Monroe said. ‘Gibson’s on his way back to Florida.’
‘And the chess set?’ I said.
McGregor raised an eyebrow at Monroe. I figured he’d not been party to that bit of information.
‘Gone.’
I said nothing. Felt the heaviness in the left pocket of my jacket a little more acutely, and was glad the cops hadn’t searched me too closely before Monroe had called them off.
McGregor shook his head. ‘We got Gibson back; that’s a win in my book.’
‘Back to jail, yes, but that wasn’t the only objective.’ Monroe ran a hand through his hair. It stayed sticking up at the back. Would’ve looked comical if he wasn’t being such a dick.
‘It was our objective – my objective,’ I said. ‘You got to see him before the cops took him away, you had time for your “chat”.’
Monroe glowered at me. ‘I needed more than a chat.’
‘Yeah. I heard about what you needed.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you implying?’
‘Gibson told me all about your deal.’
‘Rubbish,’ he said, but his expression didn’t match the anger in his voice. He looked riled. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘He said you’d say that, too.’ I put my hand into my left pocket. Felt the cool metal. Decided not to show Monroe, not yet. Thought of it as insurance. ‘So what about our deal?’
‘You didn’t do what I asked.’
‘I caught Gibson, didn’t I?’
‘You turned a pick-up into a bloodbath, and the deal was that I’d get time off the books with Gibson. That didn’t happen, ergo, no deal.’
And just like that he turned the tables. Bastard. I remembered Red’s words, how he’d warned me not to get involved in some dick-waving federal bullshit, but I’d done it anyway. The lure of getting JT free and clear had been all that was needed to catch me, and Monroe had played that move real smooth.
‘But we—’ I began.
‘There’s nothing on paper.’ He put his hands up. ‘There’s nothing I can do.’
Shit. I glanced at McGregor. His expression was hard to read. I looked back at Monroe. ‘You lied to me just like you lied to Gibson. You used him, and you’ve used me. But I won’t let you get away with it.’
Monroe shrugged, acting all confused. ‘Get away with what? I’ve been doing the Bureau’s work…’
‘Bullshit. You knew Gibson was innocent of the Walkers’ double homicide but you let him go to jail for it anyways. You had the local PD remove the eyewitness statement that put Searle at the scene because you wanted to get the chess set back yourself. You left Gibson in jail for two and a half years, until he was desperate enough to agree to anything to get free, then plotted to break him out so he could finish the sting on the Chicago Mob.’ I stabbed my finger at him. ‘You broke the rules, and a lot of people died. This gets out, your career isn’t dying, it’s buried six feet below.’
‘You don’t have any proof.’
‘I’ve more than enough to get you mothballed – probably enough to get you jail time.’
‘You’re lying. Desperate to—’
‘You can act dumb all you want,’ I interrupted. ‘But I’ve got the prison CCTV showing you signing in as Donald Fletcher, and the fake signature on the logs matches the package sent to Southside Storage two and a half years ago.’ I decided a little white lie wrapped up inside the truth was okay as I continued: ‘I can’t prove that one of the chess pieces was in that package, but I know you gave Clint Norsen a heads-up to look out for Gibson a full day before he escaped.’
‘You wouldn’t—’
‘I’ve got this as well.’ I pulled out my cell phone and swiped to the voice recorder. Pressed play.
Gibson’s voice through the speaker was clear and strong: ‘…Because he got me into this in the first damn place, and I knew he wanted the final chess piece. Unlike the rest of the Bureau he wanted me to finish the job. His career took a fast ride down shit creek when the Walkers died during his sting operation.’
I stopped the recording. ‘There’s a whole lot more where that came from. I had it recording in my pocket the whole time from the moment I got to that ranch. Mia’s on it.’ I smiled at him. ‘You too.’
‘You fucking bitch.’
I nodded. It was a fair comment under the circumstances. I tilted my head to the side. ‘Who’s feeling desperate now?’
Monroe clenched his fists. ‘You think you can blackmail me into—’
‘Can’t I?’
He glanced at McGregor, who shrugged. Then Monroe turned back to me. ‘Be careful, Lori. You’re playing a dirty game.’
I held his gaze. ‘I learned it all from you.’
‘Believe me when I say you don’t want to make me your enemy.’
‘Ditto.’ Straight talking and fair play was my usual mantra, but sometimes you’ve got to play a little dirty to stay in the game. I wondered if Monroe had been the one having me followed. If he was the person who’d ordered Red’s beating. ‘Now, as far as I see it, I’ve got a whole bunch of evidence, and you’ve got a deal to keep.’
Monroe thought for a moment. Narrowed his eyes. ‘There isn’t anyone else knows about this. I’m FBI, and you’re, what, some small-time bounty hunter? I could bury you.’
McGregor spoke for the first time in a while. ‘But you won’t. Because you gave her your word, and the Alex Monroe I know, he does the right thing. Keeps his word.’
A vein pulsed in Monroe’s forehead. He looked from me to McGregor and then back again. We had him in checkmate. Looked like he knew there was no sense in arguing. ‘Okay. A deal’s a deal. I don’t go back on my word.’
Not when you know you’ll lose, I thought. ‘Good. Then we’re done here?’
Monroe nodded. ‘Yeah. We’re done.’
‘So make the call.’
55
Monroe moved across the room, pulled out his cell phone
and dialled. ‘That problem I had going on in…’ He turned away as he carried on talking.
I looked at McGregor. Sometimes allies are forged from the most antagonistic beginnings. ‘Thanks.’
He nodded. ‘You deserved as much. Monroe is a good man … well, he used to be.’
‘You hope he still is?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Hope can’t make it true.’
‘For sure.’ McGregor held my gaze. ‘Four-Fingers said he told you about my wife. Well Monroe was there for me when she died. He investigated the case. Made sure the local PD had every resource they needed. The gangbangers who mowed her down had been on his radar a while. He made sure none of them would see freedom again.’
‘So what happened to that guy?’
McGregor shook his head. Glanced across at Monroe, who was still speaking on his cell. ‘Who knows? The job. The bullshit. Life.’ He frowned. ‘It gets us all one way or another.’
I nodded. Understood. However Monroe had changed, theirs was an alliance, a friendship forged in loss and revenge. McGregor felt he owed Monroe. It made him backing me up even more impressive. ‘Like I said, thank you.’
‘Look, I know you’re going to be keen to head back to Florida. But if you ever fancy some work out this way, look me up. You’re always welcome on my team.’
I smiled. It was funny how things had worked out; the man I’d thought of as my nemesis was now my ally. Bobby Four-Fingers had been right, McGregor was an honourable man. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. Give my regards to Bobby and Jorge.’
‘Will do.’
Monroe ended his call. Walked towards me. ‘It’s done.’
So he said, but I was far from trusting him. ‘Tell me the details.’
‘He’ll be released without charge. New evidence will have come to light.’
I exhaled. He sounded sincere, though I wouldn’t believe him until JT was out of that place, a free man. I forced a smile. Knew better than to burn my bridges with Monroe. An FBI contact, even one with dodgy working practices, could be useful to me, especially now I knew his shortcomings … and he knew that I knew.
Deep Blue Trouble Page 25
