Finding You

by Jenna Bennett

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Pray,” Enrique said.

  So that was that.

  “Will you let me know what happens?” I asked, getting to my feet. “I’ll be here for a while longer. And you know where to find me.”

  Ricky Fuentes nodded, getting up, too. “Of course, Cassie. I’m sorry this happened. I was looking forward to spending some time with you while you’re here.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Ty’s gaze narrow, but it could have been wishful thinking. Probably was.

  “That would be nice,” I said demurely. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way.”

  Enrique managed a smile, although it was more like a grimace. “It seemed the least I could do.”

  “Maybe you’ll figure out what happened to Juan soon. And Stan will be convicted and go to jail for a long time, and then we can go out and celebrate.” I smiled back.

  “I’d like that,” Ricky said, coming around the desk, I guess to escort me out. But then his desk phone rang, and he scowled at it.

  “I’ll see Cassie out,” Ty said. “You take care of that.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, just put his hand on the small of my back and nudged me out the door. Behind me, I heard Ricky’s voice. “Key West PD. Enrique Fuentes speaking.”

  “Let’s go,” Ty said, pushing me ahead of him.

  I stepped away from his hand. “You don’t have to see me out. I can find my way.” It wasn’t like it was complicated. Straight through the bullpen, straight through the reception area, and straight out the door.

  “That’s not why,” Ty said, sticking to me like glue. Through the bullpen, through reception, and through the door. When we were outside, he turned to me. “You OK?”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “How did your testimony go? That was this morning, right?”

  I nodded. “It was hard, but I survived. The prosecutor seemed happy. The public defender reserved the right to recall me to the stand later. Stan smirked at me.”

  “Bastard,” Ty said.

  I shrugged. “He’s cuffed to his chair. It’s not like he can do anything worse than smirk.”

  Ty shrugged, acknowledging my point.

  He was more casually dressed today than yesterday, although not as casually as he’d been last year. Of course, he wasn’t pretending to be a college student now. He was here officially as an FBI agent, getting ready to testify at the trial of a man he’d helped apprehend, during a joint investigation he had headed. He was wearing a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows. The color, a sort of oatmeal, set off the bright green of his eyes.

  “I saw you and Carmen yesterday,” I said, and then wished I hadn’t.

  He looked at me. I looked away, giving myself a hard mental kick. Stupid, Cassie.

  “You’re the one who wanted to break up,” Ty said. When I didn’t answer, he added, “Right?”

  I blew out a breath. “Right. I wanted to break up.”

  “So you can’t be upset if I get involved with someone else.”

  Like hell I couldn’t.

  I turned back to him. “It’s just... it’s Carmen. Didn’t you tell me last year that she isn’t your type?”

  “Maybe I changed my mind,” Ty said.

  Sure.

  “Or maybe the girl who was my type dumped me, and I’m looking for some sympathy.”

  “I didn’t dump you. I just couldn’t live with the uncertainty.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “How d’you know I was talking about you?”

  Oh, please. I rolled my eyes. “I’m paying you the compliment of assuming you didn’t find someone else the same week we broke up. Or even the same month. I assumed it might take you just a little time to get over me. But if I’m wrong, then I apologize. For all I know, you may have had three or four girlfriends since Thanksgiving.”

  “No,” Ty said.

  “Just Carmen?”

  He shrugged.

  “Well, I’m happy for you.” The lie didn’t get stuck in my throat. Amazing. “And she’s Ricky’s sister, so she’s probably used to the uncertainly of dating someone in law enforcement. She’ll be able to handle it a lot better than I did.”

  “Cassie...” Ty said, but before he could say anything else, the door to the precinct opened and Ricky Fuentes burst through, wild-eyed and disheveled, gun in hand. A couple of other cops followed hard on his heels, and peeled off, one to the left and one to the right, guns out and at the ready.

  “Whoa!” I stared after them, mouth open.

  Ty snagged me around the waist and pulled me up against him, shielding me with his body. I had no idea from what, and I don’t think he did either, but I didn’t care. I could feel the heat of his skin all the way down my back, through both our layers of clothes.

  He used his other hand to pull his gun. “What’s going on?” he asked Enrique, as soon as the latter had reached us.

  “Let’s get inside.” Fuentes put us both in front of him as Ty hustled me up to the door. Once we were inside the building, he—Ty—let go, but continued to push me ahead of him across the bullpen. There was no more quiet buzz of activity; now the bullpen sounded more like a beehive after someone has poked it with a stick. Loud and angry.

  Once we were back inside Enrique’s office, Enrique said, “That was the bailiff at the Courthouse calling, to ask why Stan hadn’t been delivered for the second session of the day.”

  Ty didn’t say anything.

  “And why hadn’t he?” I asked.

  “That’s what I had to find out. So I radioed Martoni and Sullivan.”

  “Who’s Martoni and Sullivan?”

  “The two officers whose job it was to transport Stan back and forth to the Courthouse,” Ty told me, his face as grim as Enrique’s. “Are they alive?”

  “So far.” Although Ricky’s voice didn’t bode well for what might happen once he got hold of them. “He shot Martoni in the gut and Sullivan in the leg. God only knows how he managed to get hold of a gun. And then he shot the tire out on the car and left.”

  “Left?” I said. Or croaked, rather. I had to put out a hand and steady myself on the back of the chair I’d been sitting in earlier. “Stan escaped? He’s on the loose?”

  They exchanged a look. Then Ty took a step closer to me. “We’ll protect you, Cassie. I promise. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  HERE WE go again.

  “You don’t think he’s going to come after me, do you?” I asked Ty twenty minutes later, when we were on our way back to the Courthouse.

  We were traveling by cab. All the cars, squad and unmarked, that belonged to the Key West PD were on the streets looking for Stan, so there had been nothing for Ricky Fuentes to loan us. And he and Ty both agreed that it wasn’t safe for us to walk. Stan had a gun and obviously wasn’t afraid to use it. None of us would put it past him to take potshots at us as we walked down the road, endangering not just us but innocent bystanders, and neither of us wanted to put on a bulletproof vest for the walk downtown.

  Ty kept looking out the windows in all directions, up and down and all around, keeping an eye out for Stan. He wasn’t really paying attention to me, and I was OK with that. I’d rather he keep me alive and in one piece than hang on my every word like he adored me. But this was one question I wanted answered, so when he didn’t respond immediately, I kicked his ankle.

  “Oww!” He scowled at me. “What?”

  “I said, you don’t think he’s going to come after me, do you?”

  “No,” Ty said.

  “Then why do you keep looking for him?”

  He glanced out the window again before he answered. “Because I’d rather look and not see him than assume he isn’t there and have him shoot you.”

  Great. “So you think he will come after me.”

  “No,” Ty said. “If he has any sense at all, he’ll get off the island. He’ll go as far an
d as fast as he can. He won’t stop to take care of old business.”

  That’d be nice. But did Stan have that much sense?

  “He isn’t stupid,” Ty said when I brought up this objection, with another look over his shoulder out the window. “He wouldn’t have gotten away with what he was doing for as long as he did if he was.”

  True. Although because he did get away with it for so long, he might just consider getting caught a spectacular stroke of bad luck, one that wouldn’t have happened if not for me. So he might sincerely think that he was smart enough to stay in Key West and kill me, without anyone being able to catch him.

  “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, Cassie,” Ty said, reaching for my hand. His eyes were deep and green and terribly sincere, and his voice was lovely and warm. And then he ruined it by adding, “It’s my job. I’m good at it.”

  I twitched my hand out of his. “I’m sure you are. Keep watching the street, please.”

  His mouth curved, but he did as I said. After a minute he picked up the conversation again. “Enrique will catch up to him soon. It isn’t easy to leave a place like Key West. There’s only one road out of town, and that road is two lanes wide. By now, Enrique will have roadblocks as far away as Marathon and Key Largo. Stan doesn’t have a hope of getting to the mainland.”

  I twisted my head to look out the window. There was no sign of Stan. “Wouldn’t it be easier to grab a boat? There’s a lot of water around here. And a lot of islands.” Many of them uninhabited but for snakes, lizards, and other critters. Plenty of places to hide for a while. “Not to mention a lot of boats.”

  “Harder to patrol the sea,” Ty admitted, “although the Coast Guard’s out. We’ll catch him.”

  I hoped they would, because I knew I wouldn’t draw an easy breath again until they did.

  Back at the Courthouse, it looked like a siege was taking place. The front doors were locked and barred, both sets of them: the inner doors with the louvers, and the outer doors—solid wood—that fit in front of them. The back door was guarded by Don the security guard. He looked us both up and down several times before consenting to opening the door for us.

  “Thank you, Don,” I said graciously.

  Ty grunted something, and I don’t think it was a thank you. “Who’s still here?”

  “Everyone,” Don said. And amended it to, “The audience and reporters left. This will be headline news tomorrow morning. But Judge Andrews and the bailiff are both in chambers, while Mr. Berryman and Mr. DeWitt are hanging out in the courtroom.”

  “What about Paula and her mother?” I asked.

  “Also there. Detective Fuentes said to keep everyone important here until he catches the prisoner.”

  Who wasn’t technically a prisoner anymore. And while I appreciated—and admired—Enrique’s confidence that getting Stan back behind bars would be a simple task, I wasn’t sure I agreed with him. I had a feeling I’d be sleeping with one eye open for the next few nights.

  “I’d like to see Paula and Mrs. Carlson,” I told Ty, who nodded.

  “I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Don.

  Paula and her mother were pale, clutching one another on the front row. Mr. DeWitt was still at the prosecution table and Mr. Berryman at the defense table. Every one of them turned when I stepped across the threshold.

  “Oh,” Mr. Berryman said after a moment. “We thought it might be news.”

  “Sorry. I don’t think I know any more than you do.” I made my way toward them and scooted in next to Paula and Mrs. Carlson. “I was still at the police station when Detective Fuentes got the news. It took us a while to get here.”

  “Us?” Berryman repeated, ears pricking.

  I glanced at Mr. DeWitt, who gave me no direction whatsoever. I turned back to Berryman. “Agent Connor and I traveled together. He was at the police station, too. So he volunteered to escort me back here while Detective Fuentes and all the police officers in Key West went out to look for your client.”

  Berryman muttered something, but subsided.

  “Ty said they have roadblocks set up on US-1 as far away as Marathon and Key Largo,” I added. “They’re checking the buses leaving town, as well. And the Coast Guard is patrolling, in case he decides to try to escape by water. They seem confident he won’t get far.”

  Nobody said anything, but their expressions said plenty. Guess I wasn’t the only one who had doubts. Stan was a native. He might have friends who’d help him, and he certainly knew more about the Keys than those of us who were only visiting.

  After a moment, Berryman and Mr. DeWitt turned to one another and began a low-voiced conversation. I tried to listen with one ear while paying attention to Paula with the other, but she was closer, and they were speaking very softly, so I only caught a word now and then.

  From them, not from Paula. I heard everything she said, loud and clear.

  “I’m afraid, Cassie.”

  I nodded. “I know. Me too.”

  She dropped her voice to a whisper. “What if they don’t catch him? What if he comes after us?”

  I wasn’t sure whether that “us” meant her and me, or her and her mother, but I’m not sure it mattered. “You should probably go home,” I said. “I know you wanted to meet Mackenzie, but with Stan on the loose, if they don’t catch him today, you’ll probably feel better back in Wisconsin. He won’t go there.”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” Mrs. Carlson said firmly. Paula glanced at her, but didn’t speak. Nonetheless, her mother added, “Don’t even try to talk me out of it. If that man’s walking around free—and with a gun!—we don’t want to be in the same state he is, let alone the same small island.”

  Paula nodded. “What about you, Cassie? Are you going back to Chicago?”

  I hesitated. It was tempting. Chicago sounded safe, just as safe as Wisconsin. It was far away from Key West, and the chances of Stan going there, or getting there without being caught, were slim. Braxton sounded even safer, although if I was wrong and Stan did manage to travel, I wasn’t about to lead him to my mom and dad. And anyway, if Ty was here and going after Stan, I had to stick around to make sure Ty was safe. “Not right now. I don’t have a ticket out for a week and a half anyway.”

  “You can change your ticket,” Mrs. Carlson pointed out.

  I could. But that meant I’d miss seeing Quinn and Mackenzie next week, because I couldn’t afford to go back to Chicago and then come back to Key West a second time in a week. “I think I’ll wait a day or two before I decide. See if they catch him.”

  Paula bit her lip. “You’ll be careful, won’t you, Cassie?”

  “Of course I will,” I said. “And Agent Connor and the police will protect me. I’ll be fine.”

  I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of that myself, of course, but I didn’t want to worry Paula any more. And I especially didn’t want to do anything to make her think she had to stay in Key West out of solidarity. I already felt guilty enough about the trouble I’d gotten her into last time we were both here. I certainly didn’t want to give Stan another shot at her.

  “Where are you staying?” I asked Mrs. Carlson.

  She gave me the name of a bed and breakfast in the historic district.

  “If you don’t mind a piece of advice, maybe it would be a good idea to spend tonight in a hotel. One of the new ones, that have good security and a doorman. Maybe even something right next to the airport. You might be safer there.”

  “Is that what you’re going to do, Cassie?” Paula asked, while her mother thought about my suggestion.

  I would if I could afford it. But my budget didn’t stretch to anything fancier that Richardson’s Motel.

  I was saved from answering when the door to the hallway opened and Ty came in.

  Berryman was first to speak again. “Any news?”

  “I came here with Cassie,” Ty said. “I’ve been outside talking to the security guard. I’m sure you know as much as I do.”

  He closed the doo
r behind him and came toward us. Berryman turned back to Mr. DeWitt and picked up their conversation.

  I waited for Ty to sit down next to me. “Did he have anything interesting to say?”

  Ty shook his head. “Nothing happened here. It all took place somewhere else. Don didn’t hear about it until Enrique told him to shut down the Courthouse and keep everyone inside.”

  “How long do we have to stay here?”

  He quirked a brow at me. “Somewhere else you’d rather be?”

  “I’d rather be at my place in Chicago,” I said, “a safe distance from Stan. But barring that, I wouldn’t mind stopping by the hospital to see Juan.”

  Ty nodded. He looked perfectly calm now, but I swear something had shifted in his eyes for a second when I’d mentioned my place in Chicago. For six months or so, it had been our place in Chicago. I guess he remembered. And no doubt he’d rather be there than here, too.

  “Who’s Juan?” Paula wanted to know, surreptitiously watching Ty. He’s twenty-six by now, but looks at least three or four years younger, so she probably didn’t realize he was too old for her.

  She probably didn’t realize I had a prior claim, either. On the stand, I had made it very clear that Ty and I were not involved, nor had we been involved during Spring Break last year. And nobody had asked me about the time in-between.

  Then again, I’d had him and had dropped him, so maybe I had no right to object to anyone else zooming in and picking him up, whether that someone was Paula or Carmen.

  Paula’s mother must have noticed the byplay, however, because she made quick work of putting Ty in his proper place in the chain of command. “Agent Connor—”

  She shot a sideways glance at Paula, to make sure her daughter recognized that this was an FBI agent she was looking at, a law enforcement professional well out of her league.

  “Yes, Mrs. Carlson?” Ty said politely.

  “We don’t know much about what happened. We’ve been here.” She gestured around the practically empty courtroom, free of anyone who might know anything about what had gone on somewhere else. “Would you mind explaining?”