Touch of Red

by Laura Griffin

  “No.”

  Sean wished he’d taken the damn Kevlar so he could leave it with her.

  “Sean, we have to find Cameron. He’s hiding. He’s—”

  “First, I need to neutralize the suspects. Do you understand? If anything threatens you, point and shoot.”

  She looked down at the gun in her hands. She looked up and nodded, and Sean’s heart swelled. She was bruised and beaten, but she was alive, and he was determined to get her out of here that way. Cameron, too.

  He pulled his Glock from his holster and checked it. Then he kissed her forehead.

  “Go,” she said.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  • • •

  He sprinted for the trees, and Brooke watched him disappear into the foliage. She stared after him, trying to catch her breath. The wind whipped through her wet clothes, and she felt cold all over.

  She couldn’t believe Sean was here. How had he found her? And why were he and Jasper alone?

  She glanced down at the gun in her hands and pushed away from the shed. Her legs felt wobbly, but they weren’t injured. Her face was another story.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered the crack of gunfire. She’d thought it was a shotgun blast. But it was Jasper shooting at Mahoney. Another second or two, and she would have been dead.

  A shudder moved through her.

  She took a deep breath and glanced around. On the ground near the spot where the pickup had been sat a black duffel bag.

  He’d left it. Or dropped it in his haste. Brooke walked over and picked it up. It was heavy, and she wasn’t surprised when she unzipped it and found two pistols inside, along with several spare magazines. She also found four, five, six thick bundles of cash, like the ones Mahoney had given Joe Hurd. Brooke couldn’t leave the weapons there for anyone to grab, so she hitched the bag onto her shoulder and glanced around.

  A flash of red near the trees caught her eye.

  Cameron?

  Brooke moved toward it. She gripped the shotgun in her hands and ducked low as she jogged toward the brush.

  In the distance, the distinctive crunch of metal. Brooke froze and listened. A car crash? Was Sean involved? Maybe someone had intercepted Mahoney or Hurd as they’d tried to flee.

  Brooke darted into the trees and glanced around for the red. It was Cameron’s sweatshirt. Had to be. She pushed through some mesquite bushes and ducked between oak trees and cedars. Thorns snagged her clothes, and she swatted the branches away as she searched for Cameron.

  In the distance she heard yelling. Then the faint wail of a siren. Finally.

  A glimpse of red caught her attention, and she looked up to see Cameron sitting in a tree, wedged into the V where the limbs split.

  “Gimme the bag,” a gruff voice said.

  Brooke whirled and lifted the gun just as Mahoney wrenched it from her hands.

  His eyes were wild. Blood saturated his right arm, which hung limply at his side. His left arm held her shotgun with the stock resting against his hip.

  “Take the bag off your shoulder and loop it over my head.” His words were labored but forceful. She started to resist, but then she thought of Cameron in the tree. Had Mahoney seen him?

  “Now.”

  Never taking her eyes off the judge, she slowly lifted the bag from her shoulder and held it out to him. He stepped closer.

  “Loop it over my head.”

  He couldn’t do it with his injured arm, not while keeping the gun pointed at her.

  Brooke looped the bag over his head. Then she backed away, hands up.

  A blur of red as Cameron leaped from the tree and landed on Mahoney, knocking him to the ground.

  “No!” Brooke screamed, and lurched toward them.

  Boom.

  Fire tore through her leg. She rolled under some bushes and crashed into a tree trunk. Through the branches, she saw Mahoney charging toward her.

  Pop.

  Mahoney staggered back, clutching his shoulder. He collapsed with a yowl. The next instant was a blur of movement as Sean burst through the bushes. He landed on Mahoney, flipped him onto his stomach, and pinned his arms behind his back.

  “Brooke!”

  “Over here,” she shouted.

  “Brooke, stay there!”

  More grunts and howls as Sean cuffed Mahoney and frisked him for weapons. The judge was bleeding and bellowing about his shoulder.

  Brooke swiped the branches away and tried to sit up. She scooted out from under the bushes as pain blazed up her leg.

  Then Sean was there. He dropped to his knees and yanked his jacket off. “Jasper, get an ambulance! Now!” He leaned over her. “Brooke, you’re hit.”

  “I know. I think . . . I think—” Her leg was on fire, and she couldn’t think at all. “Cameron . . .”

  “Jasper’s got him. He’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Brooke closed her eyes, and the relief was so intense it almost eclipsed the pain.

  “Jasper!” Sean stripped off his shirt and started wrapping her leg in a tourniquet.

  Jasper stepped through the bushes. “Paramedics on the way. ETA five minutes.”

  “Get the boy out of here,” Sean ordered. “Take him to the sheriff’s units over by the gate, and then lead the paramedics back here. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Brooke groped for Sean’s hand and found it. “Stay with me. Please.”

  “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Sean trained his gaze on the gray doors, willing them to open, but they wouldn’t move.

  “Sean.” He turned around to see Callie stepping off the elevator. “What’s the news?”

  “Still nothing.”

  She had a cardboard coffee cup in her hand, and she held it out to him, but he shook his head.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  She took a sip and turned to look at the doors. “I thought they said an hour?”

  “They did.” Sean glanced at his watch again. It had been nearly two hours since Brooke had gone into surgery, and still no updates. With every minute that ticked by, acid was eating away at Sean’s stomach.

  He glanced across the waiting room at Brooke’s brother and his girlfriend, who were sitting in chairs beside a television no one was watching.

  “Mahoney’s out.”

  Sean looked at Callie and tried to process the words. “Out . . . ?”

  “Of surgery. Sounds like his shoulder and arm are torn up, but otherwise he’s okay. Doc says he’ll be cleared to go later. Jasper and Ric are going to take him in. And Hurd is being booked as we speak.”

  A bitter lump clogged Sean’s throat. Mahoney was going to be okay. Meanwhile, Brooke was still stuck back there—

  The doors pushed open. A woman in blue surgical scrubs emerged and scanned the waiting room.

  Sean rushed over, joined by Owen and Lin.

  “How is she?” Owen asked.

  “She’s in recovery.” The vise around Sean’s heart loosened. “The surgery went well.”

  Lin slumped against Owen. “Oh, thank God.”

  “She’s very lucky she missed a direct hit. It looks like several shotgun pellets deflected off the ground and caught her in the lower leg, one fracturing her fibula. We removed the fragments, set the bone, and did our best to repair the tissue damage. She’ll have some scarring.”

  “How’s her head?” Sean asked.

  The doctor looked him over, taking in his badge and sidearm. “She’s not ready to be interviewed, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “No, I mean . . . she took a blow. She said something about a shotgun stock when the paramedics were with her. Did you do X-rays?”

  “We ran a number of tests, and it looks like she’s got a mild concussion.”

  “Mild?” Owen asked.

  “We’ll keep her under observation tonight, but if everything
goes well, she should be ready to leave tomorrow.”

  “Can we see her?”

  “She’ll be awake soon, but very groggy. You can see her, but it’s best if you keep it short.” The doctor turned to Sean. “Are you Detective Byrne, by chance?”

  “Yes.”

  The doctor handed him an envelope. “Before we put her under, she made me promise I’d give you this.”

  “What—”

  “The fragments. She said you’d need them as evidence.”

  Sean stared down at the envelope. The doctor answered more questions from Owen, but Sean wasn’t listening. He just wanted to see Brooke. He tucked the envelope in his pocket and looked at her brother.

  “You first,” Owen said.

  “You mind?”

  “Go ahead. I need to call my parents.”

  Sean pushed through the doors and didn’t stop at the nurses’ station. He’d been in this wing of the hospital not long ago, and he didn’t need directions. He strode down the hallway to the recovery rooms.

  At the first door, he stopped cold. Brooke lay on a gurney under a light blue blanket. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and dark purple bruises stood out against her pale skin. She looked asleep.

  Sean’s chest tightened as he stepped into the room. He knelt beside her and slid his hand under hers. Her fingers felt warm, but she didn’t move.

  “Brooke,” he whispered.

  Nothing.

  He glanced behind him and dragged a chair over. He sat down and reached over to touch the side of her face that wasn’t injured. “Brooke, honey, I’m here.”

  She was still. Silent. But with every gentle rise and fall of her chest, Sean felt like he could breathe again.

  He kissed her hand and held it. Then he settled in to wait.

  • • •

  Callie caught Sean in the bull pen. He’d been scarce since yesterday, and she was surprised to bump into him at work. She’d expected him to take at least a few days off.

  “Got a minute?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “This won’t take long. But I need to show you something.”

  Not waiting for an answer, she stepped into the nearest interview room and waited for him to close the door. She took a chair and he reluctantly followed suit.

  “How is she?”

  He sighed. “Doing better. She had a rough night.”

  “I won’t keep you.” Callie pulled out her phone and opened up a photograph. “Take a look at this.”

  Sean took the phone and stared down at the picture of lined paper filled with loopy handwriting. “What is this?” He glanced up.

  “Samantha’s journal from when she was fourteen.”

  “How—”

  “Amy Doppler brought it in. She spent yesterday over at Samantha’s house, packing up her things. She came across this journal tucked between some textbooks.”

  Sean skimmed the words and his expression darkened when he got to the part about going to see the judge. Fourteen-year-old Samantha Bonner had used the very same words as Hannah Lipsky to describe the encounter. Her description of the cop who escorted her to the office fit, too.

  As part of his deal with prosecutors, Joe Hurd had identified Mahoney’s other accomplice as Burr County sheriff’s deputy Craig Petok. Like Hurd, the man had been on the judge’s payroll for years.

  Sean glanced up. “Did you see this about the cop who picked her up, the guy with the shaved head?”

  “I know. It has to be Craig Petok.”

  “Holy shit. She even mentions the green banker’s lamp.” Sean shook his head. “Has Rachel seen this?”

  “Not yet. But this is the ‘proof’ they were talking about, Sam and Jasmine. Some of the passages are marked with sticky notes. I’m thinking maybe she took pictures of the pages and sent them to the judge as part of their extortion plan.”

  Sean handed back the phone, then leaned back in the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. The man looked beat, and Callie doubted he’d slept at all last night.

  “How the hell did we miss this? We turned that house inside out.”

  “Yeah, but we were looking for drugs,” Callie said. “The dogs aren’t exactly trained to sniff out an old diary. And anyway, it was tucked between some textbooks. Amy wouldn’t even have noticed it if it hadn’t fallen out while she was packing up Samantha’s things.”

  “So, where is it now?”

  “Jasper’s got it. He’s taking it to the lab for fingerprinting. Samantha’s prints are all over it, I’m sure, but there’s a chance we could even find Jasmine’s. Not that we need any more evidence against Mahoney now that Hurd is talking, but every bit helps.”

  “Hurd is cooperating?”

  “Rachel’s using him as leverage against the judge. Turns out Hurd has a dark red pickup truck registered to his name, supposedly keeping it for his son who’s away at college. Hurd claims Mahoney borrowed the vehicle from him the week of the murders, claiming his car was in the shop. I think Rachel’s positioning Hurd to testify against the judge. From what I hear, she’s determined to nail Mahoney on everything, no deals.”

  “Good for her.” Sean glanced at his watch. “Listen, I have to go. I’m picking up Brooke.”

  “She’s being discharged?”

  “At noon, supposedly. I’m taking her home.”

  Callie arched her eyebrows. “Home as in . . . ?”

  “My place. If she agrees.” He blew out a breath. “I’ve got some convincing to do.”

  “Hmm.” Callie tilted her head to the side. “Interesting tactic.”

  “What is?”

  “Taking her to your place. She doesn’t strike me as someone who wants to be babysat.”

  “She isn’t. But she needs help, even if she doesn’t know it yet.” He shook his head. “She’s medicated and she’s on crutches. I’ve been there. There’s a lot that’s hard to do, and the first few days are the worst. The exhaustion comes out of nowhere and knocks you flat, and I want to help her through that.”

  “You look exhausted yourself.”

  “Me? I’m fine.” He raked his hand through his hair. Then he checked his watch, and she realized he was nervous more than anything. “I’d better go.”

  He was in love. Callie could see it. She hoped Brooke could, too, and that she was ready for it because Sean Byrne didn’t do anything halfway.

  Callie smiled at him. “Tell Brooke I said hi. And good luck with your convincing.”

  He smiled slightly. “You think I’m going to need it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  • • •

  “You’re rushing it,” Roland told her.

  “No, I’m not,” Brooke insisted.

  “I disagree.”

  “Well, it’s not up to you, is it? So, are you going to help me?”

  He sighed on the other end of the phone. “Fine. But for the record, I think you’re rushing it. Text me if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  Brooke tossed her cell phone onto the coffee table and stared at her laptop. She had 286 messages in her in-box, and it had been less than three days.

  The doorbell rang, and she startled at the unfamiliar sound. She looked at Sean’s front door. He usually used the back door, and he had a key. She debated for a moment before grabbing her crutches and heaving herself up. She loped over and peered through the peephole and was shocked to see Maddie, Kelsey, and Alex.

  Brooke unlocked the door and clumsily pulled it open.

  “Surprise!” Maddie stepped past her, carrying a tray of cardboard coffee cups. “We decided to bring our coffee klatch to you.”

  Brooke smiled. “But it’s Friday.”

  Kelsey kissed her cheek. “We needed an emergency session.”

  “Plus, we wanted an excuse to check out your new digs,” Alex added.

  “They’re not really my digs,” Brooke said, leading them into Sean’s living room.

  But she could tell her friends d
idn’t buy it. Brooke’s laptop was on the coffee table, her jacket was draped over a chair, and her favorite magazines were stacked on the end table beside her phone charger. She’d made herself quite at home in Sean’s space. Temporarily.

  “Wow, this is nice.” Maddie looked around. “Great view of the greenbelt.”

  “Yeah, not quite the bachelor pad I imagined.” Taking a seat on the armchair, Kelsey quirked an eyebrow at Brooke. “Who knew Sean Byrne had a domestic side?”

  “Nice alarm system,” Alex said from the foyer. “This thing’s top-of-the-line.”

  “Leave it to you to notice his electronics,” Brooke said.

  Maddie sat on the sofa and passed out coffee cups and muffins. “We got you a chai latte.”

  “Thanks.”

  “In exchange, we want the full story, uncensored,” Kelsey said. “How are things with you and the sexy detective?”

  “Good.” Brooke leaned her crutches against the end table and lowered herself onto the couch. “How are you? I understand you and Gage have a new project under way.”

  “You see what she did there?” Kelsey looked at Maddie and sipped her coffee. “The baby-making mission is going fine, thank you very much.”

  “Any news?” Alex asked.

  “Not yet. But Gage is taking the whole operation very seriously. The man is determined.”

  “Give a SEAL a mission . . .” Maddie smiled and bit into a muffin.

  “But enough about my tireless husband.” Kelsey put down her cup. “We’re here to talk about you. How’s the fibula?”

  “The fibula is fine, Dr. Quinn. Thanks for asking.”

  “And how’s everything else?” Maddie asked with a worried look.

  “Fine. Or better, I should say.”

  Brooke knew what Maddie was asking, but she wasn’t ready to talk about Sean. He’d seemed so pensive lately. So quiet around Brooke. She worried something was wrong, but whatever it was felt private between them.

  “They had an article in the paper this morning,” Kelsey said. “Evidently, they think Mahoney may have had dozens of victims over the years.”

  “I saw that.” And even if Brooke hadn’t seen the article, Sean had been keeping her updated on the case.

  “It makes me sick,” Maddie said. “It’s always the most vulnerable people. I hope they throw the book at him.”