Nothing she could do about that. He could hike out just as easily as she could get to him. Plus, she didn’t give a damn. Isabelle took a path heading a little farther west and walked on, trying to recapture her earlier excitement and wishing she could have last night all over again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I’VE GOT A stack of paperwork to catch up on,” Tom said, rubbing a hand over his eyes to try to clear the exhaustion from them. “You get some sleep.”
“It’s 6:00 p.m.,” Mary said, even as her jaw cracked with a yawn.
“Yeah, and neither of us slept last night.” He tipped his head toward the window that looked out on the courthouse grass. “Your room is only two blocks away. Go crash. I won’t be in bed until midnight, but I’ll call then if I need you up and alert. If not, hopefully we can both get a whole night’s sleep.”
She nodded. “All right. Shit, it was a good day, at least.”
“It was a good day,” he said. Not great. Great would have meant getting Saul Stevenson off the streets. But that shithead hiding in the motel room had clearly been here in a supporting role. He’d had three assault rifles, one sniper rifle and boxes of ammunition for additional firearms he wasn’t carrying. With a felony conviction under his belt, Butch Abrams wasn’t allowed to have any of it.
The tip had come from a motel employee who claimed not to have seen anyone else with Abrams when he’d checked in or anytime since. Abrams himself claimed he’d come to town only to check out the trial and offer Stevenson his support, though he hadn’t actually gone to the courthouse once.
Saul Stevenson was out there. He was close. The tactics team had taken the judge home, and the entire prosecution team was under guard by the state police. Now that Stevenson had lost whatever support Abrams had meant to provide, Tom hoped he was on his own and less of a danger.
Still. Half the tactics team had gone ahead to survey the area around the judge’s home.
An hour later, Tom had wrapped up the urgent work and was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. Or hunger. He couldn’t tell anymore, but he had hours more work to do.
Stupidly, he wished he could see Isabelle. It wouldn’t make any difference. He’d still be exhausted and starving and stressed. And he still hadn’t come up with a plan.
“Damn it,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands hard over his face. Any decision would have to wait until the trial was over. He couldn’t concentrate on Isabelle’s problem long enough to sort it out and come up with an idea.
He’d managed to read a few newspaper articles about her father’s case in the past twenty-four hours. Beth Pozniak had disappeared three months after her father had skipped town. There’d been weeks of speculation. Assertions that she had joined her dad in some hidey-hole overseas. Theories that she’d been killed by the people her father had betrayed.
After a few weeks, the stories had slipped away. The whole thing had slipped away. A few cops had been charged with conspiracy and bribery, and they’d served a few months. But no one had ever been convicted of the murder, and only six other low-level officers had been kicked off the force.
But there was more to it. There had to be. There was a reason the FBI had flagged the file and warned against sharing any information with the Chicago Police Department. Something was very wrong with that case. He suspected Isabelle knew exactly what that was. There hadn’t been another reason to run, as far as he could tell.
He’d ask her as soon as the trial was over. And he’d try to avoid her until then. Easier said than done, when all he wanted was to fall into bed with her and sleep for twelve hours. After fucking her until neither of them could walk.
Shit, he needed food and more coffee.
Tom was just closing his laptop when his phone rang, and Hannity’s name popped up on the screen. “Everything secure?” Tom asked.
“The judge is tucked in safe and sound, but my guys found some tire tracks that we’re checking out now.”
“Where?”
“On White Ridge Road.”
Tom froze. “That’s a public road. People live there.”
“Yes, but the tracks go all the way up to an unoccupied cabin a mile past the last house.”
A mile past Isabelle’s place.
“We’re checking it out now,” Hannity said. “Figured you wouldn’t want to wait until morning.”
“No. I’ll be there in thirty.” Tom hung up and immediately called Isabelle. His racing pulse slowed a little when she answered.
“I heard about all the excitement,” she said. “You’re okay?”
“I’m good, just dead on my feet.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear that,” she said, and despite everything, Tom smiled.
“It’s worse than that,” he said. “I’m still working.”
“All right. I guess I’ll have to get off without you tonight. Desperate times and all.”
He chuckled as he grabbed his bag and left the office, drawing the attention of one of the guards, but the guy just tipped his chin in greeting as Tom passed. “Listen,” he said once he was out of earshot. “Have you seen anyone around today?”
“Just one of your men. Why?”
“We’re on pretty high alert here after that arrest. Be careful, all right?”
“It’s supposed to start snowing soon. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good. You’re all locked up?”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a little purr that nearly made him groan.
“All right. I’m sorry I can’t keep you company.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll make good use of you in my imagination. If you feel your ears burning, that’s me sucking your cock.”
Thank God Tom had made it out of the courthouse, because he burst into laughter, though it was slightly edged with pain. “You’re out of control.”
“I know. That’s my appeal.”
“It might be a little of it,” he conceded, still smiling, even as he scanned the area around his car before getting in. “But definitely not all of it.”
“You’re sweet,” she said, her voice going a little more quiet.
“No, I’m—” He’d been about to say “honest,” but his throat choked off the word. He wasn’t honest. He couldn’t say that to her. “It’s the truth,” he said instead.
“I’ll miss you tonight.” After a pause, she added, “I hope that’s not weird to say.”
“I feel the same way, weird or not.”
“I guess we both needed this.”
“Yeah,” he said, sitting in the quiet of the car for a moment. “I guess we did.”
“Be safe tonight, Tom. And get some sleep.”
“I will. And try to ignore our guys driving around. We’re doing extra patrols. Will you let Jill know?”
He hung up and headed out, relieved about Isabelle’s safety and knowing that his primary reaction should have been continued stress for the judge. But shit, the judge had nearly a whole US Marshals office watching his ass. Isabelle had only Tom and one weird cat. And a gun. And a kick-ass ballsiness that was sexy as hell.
Plus, she’d implied that she was going to masturbate tonight while fantasizing about going down on him. That was a woman worth protecting through hell or high water.
She’d been right about the weather. Snow began hitting his windshield just as he turned off the main freeway onto the winding road that led up into the trees. He hit the gas, needing to get to those tracks before they were covered by new snow. Not that he was some expert tracker, but he wanted to see them for himself.
He drove past Isabelle’s place ten minutes later, slowing to take a look at her softly glowing windows. She’d pulled all the shades and curtains, he was happy to see. She was taking the threat more seriously than she had in the past. Or she was simply annoyed by the cop cars that had been going by in the darkness.
The road past her drive was usually untouched aside from deer tracks, but today his headlights caught the straight slashes of crisscrossing tire mar
ks.
This was exactly why he’d walked this road on his first day here. It was almost a straight shot through the woods from Isabelle’s house to the judge’s. From her place, the road curved around ridges and dropped down hills until it reached a few seasonal cabins. The first cabin was quite a drive on this rutted road, but no farther from the judge’s place on foot than Isabelle’s was. He’d worried it could be used as a hideout by someone who needed cover for a night or two.
Two SUVs were parked about fifty yards from the first cabin. Tom pulled behind them and cut the engine then tugged up the hood of his parka and jumped out to meet Hannity in the middle of the road.
“One set of tire tracks,” Hannity said. “Wes followed them out here and drove on past to check the other cabins, but the tracks in the driveway of this one aren’t his.”
The snow started coming down harder, so Tom hurried to take a look. There were more than tire tracks here. “So someone parked here and went inside?”
“I don’t think so. Looks like someone just went up the steps and knocked. The tracks end there, aside from a few steps over to the front window. Then the prints head back to the vehicle. That’s it.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t one of our guys?”
“Definitely not. I took a look around back, and I found an old trail of bootprints leading up to the cabin, but I’m hoping they’re yours.”
“I was up here a few days ago, but I’ll check them out to be sure.” Tom shone his flashlight on the steps. “Place is still locked tight?”
“Yep. And no sign of any tracks at the other cabins.”
“Have you been able to reach the owner of this one? Any chance they were up here checking on their place?”
“We’re looking at property records now.”
The south side of the cabin was visible from the road, so Tom hiked through the deeper snow on the north side, just to be sure the cabin was still secure. He found the old tracks and was reasonably certain they were his, judging by the wear from melt and wind. Even if someone else had come through, Tom’s prints would’ve still been visible. They had to be his.
If there was no one in the cabin, there wasn’t much to be done. “I don’t like it,” he said to Hannity when he rejoined him in the front, “but it could’ve been anyone. The homeowner. A lost tourist. Hell, it could’ve even been a reporter looking for a good vantage for a photo of the judge’s house.”
Hannity agreed and promised to get back to Tom once the owners had been tracked down.
Tom held back a yawn. “I’ll take another hike around early tomorrow. With this snow moving in, I’ll know if anyone else has been out and about. Have the team keep careful track of their movements tonight so I can eliminate them.”
“Got it.”
Tom drove on a ways, but there was only the one set of tracks leading in and out, and there were no bootprints anywhere that he could see. He’d check again in daylight, but the snow was coming in a steady, gentle drift now. It looked like nothing, but he knew from experience it could end up being two feet of powder by sunrise.
At least adrenaline had kept him going for a while. The exhaustion didn’t return until he slowed in front of Isabelle’s house again. Her driveway was already smoothing out, the new snow hiding the jagged ridges of the evidence of her girls’ night.
He slowed at Jill’s, too, happy to see that even she had pulled her blinds. Isabelle must have called her, because normally her windows were a riot of light and glass sculptures and hanging plants. He wistfully considered knocking to beg for another frozen packet of food, but he drove on to the judge’s and all the work that waited there. He had an early morning tomorrow that would start well before he needed to leave for the courthouse. And if Hannity found anything else, Tom would be up all night again.
For once, he hoped that Stevenson would stay hidden for a little while longer. Tom wanted to be lying in bed waiting for his ears to burn.
* * *
ISABELLE TIPTOED UP the front steps of Jill’s house and tapped softly on her door. She didn’t know why she was being quiet. No one on the road would be able to see or hear her past the shifting sheets of snow. But she felt guilty after promising Tom she’d stay in.
She’d meant it when she’d said it, but then she’d decided to call Jill and talk to her about Tom, and Jill wasn’t answering her phone.
Isabelle tapped on the door again, telling herself it was really the responsible thing to do, coming over to check on Jill. After all, there was a bad guy on the loose. But really, she just wanted to talk to someone else who knew Tom.
The blinds of the front window finally parted, and Isabelle sighed with relief, but that response was short-lived. Jill opened her door only a few inches.
“What are you doing out here?” Jill demanded in a low voice. “You left me a message saying Tom was worried!”
“Oh, please. If there’s a weird survivalist out here, he’s hiding out from the snow like everyone else.” Isabelle stomped the snow from her boots. “Come on. Let me in.”
“You’re supposed to be at home!” Jill grouched, but she opened the door anyway.
“I was bored.”
“You’re never bored. And since when do you want company? Just put on a bad movie and do a puzzle like you always do.”
“God, you’re grumpy.” Isabelle toed off her boots, but then she stopped and narrowed her eyes at Jill. “What’s going on with you? Why’s your hair all squashed?”
“I was already in bed.”
Isabelle looked suspiciously around. “And why are we speaking so softly?”
Jill didn’t answer that, and a spike of fear suddenly pierced Isabelle’s self-absorption. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Isabelle lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned close. “Is there someone here? Give me a signal and I’ll make an excuse to leave. Tom is—”
“No, it’s fine.” Jill’s shoulders slumped. “Everything is fine.”
A distinctive creak sounded from the other side of the house. Isabelle felt her eyes widen until they hurt. “Then why did I just hear your bedroom door open?” she whispered, reaching for Jill’s hand to tug her toward the door, bare feet or not.
But before she could get Jill to move, a woman stepped into the living room. A very young woman. Wearing a T-shirt and tiny black underwear.
“Oh, hi,” the woman said, pushing her long brown hair off her face. “Jill, do you have a charger I can borrow? I need it for my phone if I’m going to stay the night.”
“Sure,” Jill said, her voice slightly strained at the edges. “It’s on the kitchen counter. See if it’s the right kind.”
“Thanks.” She walked by, her perky ass half exposed by the panties. A moment later, she retraced her route. The door to the bedroom closed. The pipes whooshed as the shower started.
Isabelle forced her lids to blink before her eyeballs fell out and rolled across the floor. “Oh. My. God.”
“Shut up,” Jill said.
“Please tell me she’s over eighteen.”
“She’s twenty-two.”
Isabelle turned her gaze on Jill. She closed her jaw, but it fell open again. “Oh. My. God.”
“Stop saying that.” The tips of her ears turned red.
“That’s why you weren’t answering your phone? That girl is young enough to be your daughter!”
Jill shrugged and crossed her arms. “I was about to give in and call Marguerite. I needed to distract myself.”
“So you called 1-800-HOT-COED?”
“Stop embarrassing me! There are...apps. Ways to meet people with the same...interests. You should try it yourself.”
Isabelle clapped a hand over her mouth to stop a laugh.
Jill glared at her.
“I’m sorry! You know I understand! I just didn’t know you dated hot young things, that’s all.”
Jill stalked past her, heading for the kitchen, but Isabelle followed. “I don’t, all right? I just needed
to do something crazy.”
“Good. I’m glad.” She put her hands up in defense when Jill shot her another glare. “I’m serious. I know how much you’ve missed Marguerite.”
Jill’s eyes filled with tears. “I know it’s stupid,” she rasped.
“It’s not!” Isabelle rushed forward and squeezed Jill tight. “It’s not stupid.”
“It is! Breaking up hasn’t even made anything different. She’s still not here, just like always. We’re still not talking. I still haven’t seen her for eight months. But I’m so much more lonely, knowing I can’t reach out. I can’t even let myself want her.”
Isabelle squeezed her tighter. “I know.”
“I’ve been so mad at her for so long, but there was always the possibility.”
“There still is. You’re just taking a break.”
“No, we’re not. Not if I have any self-esteem left. It’s over. I have to let her go. And I just wanted to find a way to forget.”
Her voice had calmed a little, so Isabelle leaned back to look at Jill. She used her own sleeve to swipe at the tears on Jill’s face. “So did it work?”
Jill shrugged. “For a couple of hours. Yes.” The silence of the shower turning off surrounded them.
They both looked toward the bedroom before turning slowly back to each other. “And maybe for a couple more hours?” Isabelle asked.
Jill shrugged again, but her mouth relaxed into a half smile. “Maybe.”
“Good. I mean it. I’m really sorry I barged in on you.”
“It’s okay. At least now I can talk to you about it tomorrow. She wasn’t going to spend the night, but...”
“But you’re that good?” Isabelle asked.
“I’m pretty good.”
Isabelle had to slap a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter again. This time Jill joined her, relaxing for the first time since Isabelle had arrived.
Jill filled a glass with ice water and sucked it down as if she’d been working out. “So what was so gosh-darn urgent you had to interrupt my night of illicit love?”
“Nothing. I wanted to talk about Tom.”
Flirting with Disaster & Fanning the Flames Page 16
