Faceless

by Debra Webb

  Strangely, he didn’t answer right away, just stared at her with a look she had not seen before. “There was never any question as to my survival. There was only the matter of the price.”

  A stretch of silence elapsed between them. She didn’t have to ask the price. She feared she knew all too well. Annette wasn’t sure she could bear the answer.

  She saw herself out of the observatory. She worked hard to focus on what she must do next. Any emotion she allowed would only get in the way. She had already set up transportation arrangements for the search. All she had to do now was hook up with Carson. And evade the FBI’s prying eyes.

  Oddly enough, Carson appeared to be the only person she could count on at this point.

  Images of their physical coupling just a few hours ago had her heart racing.

  Don’t think … find Dane Drake. He was the one chance Carson had of turning his life around.

  Blake, the houseman, nodded to Annette as they passed in the long hall. He carried a tea tray.

  Two cups.

  She stalled, turned to watch the man move toward his destination.

  Did Otis have company? There hadn’t been any other cars in the drive when she’d arrived.

  Blake entered the study … not the observatory.

  Her heart pounding, Annette eased back in that direction. She slipped into the room directly across the hall, leaving the door cracked so that she might get a glimpse of whoever was waiting in the room.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  Otis had guests frequently. Usually business associates. She had no right spying on him like this. He would be very displeased if he learned of her behavior.

  As if the troubling thoughts had summoned him, he entered her line of sight. Opened the door to the study to go inside. His guest rose from his chair and extended his hand.

  Donald Wainwright.

  Otis’s archenemy.

  What could those two possibly have to discuss?

  The answer was simple. If she’d had any doubts, there was her confirmation.

  She was the price of Otis’s survival.

  When Blake had left the two men alone and the door was closed, she counted to ten, giving Blake time to clear the hall, then made her exit.

  She had to find Carson.

  Not only was she his only hope, he was hers.

  Enemies or not, there was one thing Annette had to keep in mind. There wasn’t a man in power in this city who had not achieved his position without help of some sort from Otis. Even Carson’s invitation to run for the office of Jefferson County district attorney would have been a part of the good old boys’ strategy. He just didn’t see it yet. Drake and Wainwright may have extended the invitation, but she would lay odds that the approval had come from Otis Fleming.

  Despite the differences he had with men like Wainwright and the occasional all-out war, Otis owned this city, lock, stock, and barrel.

  And all of it was negotiable.

  Outside, Annette climbed into the Tahoe she’d used to lose her federal tail. She had arranged several vehicles in as many locations around the city in the event they were spotted. Time was clearly running out. As soon as forensics had additional evidence that the .38 belonged to her, though it most certainly did not, she would be arrested for double murders. She had to get this done and be out of here before that happened.

  She still couldn’t shake the unthinkable—the only man she had ever trusted had sold her out.

  Why was she surprised? It wasn’t personal, it was simply business.

  As Otis had said, she knew too much. They wanted her out of their lives for good. To maintain his untouchable position, he would facilitate that effort.

  As much as she considered her current dilemma to be about ousting her from power, some part of her was dead certain that there was more involved. A deeper cover-up about which she only had snatches of knowledge.

  So what if Dane had gone apeshit and murdered Carson’s family. Wouldn’t it be easier just to off the little son of a bitch? No matter how she looked at it, she was nearly positive that all of this was connected to something bigger than Dane’s fuckup. The decision to take her down, Stokes, Carson’s sudden fall from grace. It all revolved around one central motivation.

  The question was, what?

  Better yet, why?

  Frankly, after fifteen years, why did anyone care?

  There had to be some part she couldn’t see.

  Her cell rang; she dug it from her purse. “Yes.”

  “Where should we meet?”

  Carson.

  She gave him the location of the black Explorer. They would rendezvous there and take the Explorer until the need to change vehicles arose again.

  When he didn’t say more, she asked, “Did you learn anything from Elizabeth?” For some reason she despised the woman. Maybe it was the whole wholesome, Little Miss Goody Two-shoes persona that gagged Annette.

  “She doesn’t know where Dane is,” Carson said, frustrated. “But I promised her I would find him.”

  How sweet.

  “I forgot the two of you once had a thing.” Annette snapped her mouth shut. Hadn’t meant to say that. The idea that it smacked of jealousy irked her to no end.

  “Yes, we once had a thing.”

  Her mouth went bone-dry. “Do you still have a thing?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. What was wrong with her? That she had asked a second idiotic question made her furious. And yet she sat on an emotional ledge awaiting his answer.

  “I don’t think so … maybe.”

  “I’ll see you in ten minutes.” Annette disconnected. She didn’t want to hear any more of that tender emotion in his voice. She was stupid.

  Of course a man like Carson Tanner would end up with Little Miss Princess, the pride of Birmingham’s elite. He wasn’t going to feel anything for Annette. Other than the urge to fuck perhaps. And she cared nothing for him. Men couldn’t be trusted. Not even the so-called good ones.

  She had learned that the hard way.

  But then, what did she need with a man? She’d never really cared about sex either way until recently.

  Such bad timing.

  That was the thing. The whole world, every little detail of every little thing that took place was all about timing. Made the difference between life and death … and everything in between.

  Her life was over and she was philosophizing. Oh, yes, she was totally, totally screwed.

  She sat up a little straighter behind the wheel. But the best thing to do when being screwed was to screw right back. Those rich, powerful bastards had better watch out.

  She wasn’t done yet.

  Not by a long shot.

  Chapter 35

  8:30 PM

  Dane opened his eyes and stared at the spotted ceiling.

  He tried to raise up but his head was spinning so hard he had to lay back down. Damn. He was fucked up big-time.

  Why the hell had he snorted that last line of coke?

  Bile rushed into his throat. He rolled to his side and puked until there was nothing left to come up.

  Dane spit out the bitter taste and tried again to push himself into an upright position.

  “Damn.” The room tilted.

  He needed to go to the bathroom, but the room wouldn’t stop moving.

  What time was it? Maybe food would help.

  He struggled to focus his fuzzy gaze on the clock on the bedside table. He frowned. What was that?

  His hand wobbled as he reached out to pick up the bottle. He turned it around in his hand. Prescription bottle?

  Where had that come from?

  Maybe it was the medicine he needed to feel better. That would be good.

  On the floor next to the table was another bottle. This one bigger. He picked it up. Tequila. Now he was really confused. When did he buy that?

  “Dane.”

  His head whipped around. What the hell?

  He blinked. The image split into two.

 
“Dane, you have to listen to me.”

  What was she doing here?

  “It’s time for you to do the right thing.”

  “What?” Damn. He wished she would be still. She kept turning into two people. Shit. That would be bad. One was hell on earth.

  “Now, Dane,” she urged. “You know what you have to do.”

  He stared at the prescription bottle in his hand.

  You know what you have to do.

  “Take the medicine and you’ll feel much better.”

  He scrubbed his face to try to clear the haze fogging his brain.

  “Take all of it, Dane.”

  Did he say that? Maybe she did.

  Whatever. She was right.

  He knew what he had to do.

  Chapter 36

  Tuesday, September 14, midnight

  Highway 11, Midfield

  Dane Drake was nowhere to be found.

  Carson wanted to beat the hell out of something … or someone.

  Annette had visited nearly every damned contact she had who knew Dane. No one had seen him in three days.

  Dane was either hiding out or dead.

  Carson needed him to be alive. Though they no longer socialized in the same circles, they had known each other since they were kids. Used to be best buds. Elizabeth and her mother couldn’t take losing him, too.

  And, dammit all to hell, Carson needed answers. He had to find Dane.

  Carson still refused to believe that his old friend would have hurt his family, but then he wouldn’t have thought Wainwright would just turn his back on him, either. Or manipulate a confession for crimes not committed. That was way, way out of character for the man who had been his mentor and friend for more than five years.

  He was hiding something.

  Or maybe Carson had never really known him.

  Nothing added up to the bottom line Carson had expected to find. There were no clear-cut answers. No plain truths.

  Senator Drake was dead.

  Wainwright had kicked Carson to the curb.

  When Elizabeth and Patricia learned the news, Carson doubted they would still think so highly of him. Whatever had Elizabeth coming to him would stop on a dime.

  That left Carson with no one. Again.

  He glanced at his passenger.

  Except for Annette Baxter.

  His jaw clenched.

  An unholy union to say the least.

  But he needed help. Obviously he couldn’t do this alone.

  He needed her.

  She was the only person who seemed to want the whole truth as badly as he did. The idea that she had known things about the slaughter of his family and hadn’t told him up front should have him on the defensive. He should still despise her. But somehow he couldn’t. She’d done what she had to in order to survive, and on some level he understood that seemingly selfish concept. Besides, she hadn’t owed him anything. For all intents and purposes they had been enemies until as recently as twenty-four hours ago.

  But there were other people who had known … who had deliberately set out to prevent him from finding the truth.

  Luttrell. Fire raged in Carson’s gut. That son of a bitch had stabbed him in the back. Carson couldn’t fathom just yet the extent of his former friend’s treachery.

  Not that anything excused Carson’s own behavior because it didn’t. He’d fucked up. Big-time. But Luttrell was supposed to be his friend. As was Wainwright.

  Yeah, right.

  What Carson really felt right now was the burning desire to find the truth and see that justice was served. No matter who was destroyed in the process.

  If Wainwright had been part of a cover-up surrounding his family’s murder, Carson would see that he paid. Yet it didn’t make sense. Wainwright had been a friend to his father. So had the senator. Poker buddies. The whole country-club routine. Special advisers to the city council. They were the very men who had helped make Birmingham the thriving metropolis it was today.

  The whole scenario was mind boggling, surreal.

  But Carson had to know for sure. Too many little things nagged at him. Like Wainwright’s sudden about-face. The obvious fact that he was hiding something. Drake’s abrupt supposed interest in reuniting Carson and Elizabeth. Carson may have read entirely too much into that, but he was pretty sure that had been the man’s intent. Had it been for his daughter and Carson? Or had Drake had other motives for wanting them together again?

  Putting all that aside, Carson understood with complete certainty that he and Annette were in danger. Her own assistant had tried to kill her. If Carson’s conclusions were correct, Daniel Ledger had made at least one attempt on his life … perhaps two, taking into account the gas allowed to leak into his house.

  “There it is.”

  Annette pointed out the road, and Carson slowed for the turn.

  “You’re sure?” He didn’t see a sign, and this was the first intersecting road they had seen since they’d hit this long stretch of deserted highway.

  “That’s it. I’ve been here before.”

  He couldn’t help staring at her. The dim interior lighting didn’t allow for him to read her expression fully, but she looked dead serious and damned determined.

  “Don’t ask,” she said before he could.

  A couple of houses on either side of the narrow road were dark, but it was the one at the very end they wanted.

  Small frame house on the verge of falling in on its occupants. Weeds and knee-high grass had overtaken the clearing around the structure. The woods crowded in on the property as if they planned to take over next. The moon’s light filtered down over the property, but it was the dim porch light that provided the meager visual on the place.

  Three cars—one as dilapidated as the house, two SUVs, both more valuable than the real estate they were parked on—sat in the yard at the end of the road.

  For the first time in his life Carson wondered why he’d never gotten a permit to carry a weapon. Now would be the perfect time to be armed.

  “You should probably stay in the car.”

  A laugh burst out of Carson’s throat. “Like I’m going to let you go to that door alone.” He gave his head a firm shake. “I don’t think so.”

  “I know this guy. LeBron McGaha. He and I have crossed paths before.”

  Well now, that explained everything.

  He put the Explorer in park and shut off the engine. “I’m still going with you.” Chivalry might be dead these days as far as most men were concerned, but not for Carson. He wasn’t about to let the lady go it alone.

  Clips of him fucking her in a dozen different positions flashed in his head.

  Lady. Elizabeth was a lady. Proper, sweet, churchgoing. But did Annette’s desperation and the actions she’d taken as a result make her less than a lady?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  “Suit yourself.” She got out.

  He did the same.

  Annette marched right up to the door and knocked loud.

  Carson cringed each time she pounded her fist there. He doubted that whoever was inside was going to be happy to find unexpected company on their porch.

  A few heavy pounds more and the door opened. “What?” a scraggly-looking weasel demanded. He stood about five ten, with long greasy hair and a mug taken right off the MOST WANTED bulletin at the post office. But he couldn’t have been over nineteen. Just a kid.

  “We’re looking for Dane Drake.” Annette’s voice was strong, fearless.

  The guy stared at her for three beats then glared at Carson for about one. “What the fuck do you want with Dane?”

  Annette moved in closer to the guy. Carson tensed.

  She put her face in the weasel’s and said, “I owe him a blow job. You got a problem with that, LeBron?”

  The bastard’s gaze narrowed. “I know you. You’re that bitch that got Dane and me out of trouble one time.”

  Talk about friends in low places.

  “You got that assault charge off my b
ack.” He nodded, grinned. “Yeah, I remember you.”

  “That’s right,” Annette shot back. “Now I need your help.”

  She had gotten an assault charge dismissed to keep this guy in line?

  Carson wanted to be indignant, but, if it benefited their cases, lawyers did what she’d done all the time.

  “Name it,” the long-haired creep said.

  “I need to find Dane Drake now. Do you or any of your friends have any idea where he is?”

  LeBron got that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on his face. “I’m not too sure—”

  “Yes, you are,” Annette argued. “You know exactly where he is. Now tell me.”

  “Okay, okay.” Lebron glanced at Carson.

  “It’s all right,” Annette assured him. “You can talk in front of him.”

  No way this guy was going to roll over on his friend.

  “Take Highway Eleven until you hit Three. He’s hiding out in the Holiday Inn Express in Fultondale. Says somebody’s after him.”

  Dread pooled in Carson’s gut. If anyone else got to Dane first …

  “Thanks, LeBron,” Annette said. “Now we’re even.”

  As they hustled back out to the Explorer, LeBron shouted, “Hey, if Dane don’t want that blow job, I’ll sure as hell take it.”

  Annette didn’t respond. She jumped into the passenger seat and ordered, “Drive. Fast.”

  1:15 AM

  Fultondale Holiday Inn Express

  “He won’t be registered under his own name.” Carson surveyed the vehicles in the parking lot. “There’s no way to know which room he’s in.”

  “That’s where you come in.”

  He turned to Annette. “What do you mean?”

  “The clerk’s a woman.” She shrugged. “Go in there and pour on the charm, then flash that officer-of-the-court ID you’ve got and see if you can’t get the room number and the key.”

  He’d never considered the ID as a means to prod information. He might as well go for it. He reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.”

  Carson heard the power lock click into place after he exited the vehicle. He didn’t blame her. She had reason to be afraid … even if she refused to say it out loud.