by C. J. Miller
Carey’s eyes connected with his. Was she remembering last night, too? “You don’t have to do this for me. You don’t owe me anything.”
He never had to do anything. He wanted to keep her safe. It was as natural an instinct as breathing. “It’s my job to keep you safe and I take it to heart.”
She leveled him a look. “When this is over, if I live to testify against the Vagabond Killer, I’ll still be in danger.”
Reilly refused to accept that as true. Every instinct told him he could bring this to a close. He could protect her and hunt down Mark. “Let me protect you. Let me do my job and find Mark. You can sleep at night knowing he’ll never hurt you again. Never.”
Jane looked between Reilly and Carey, her lips pressed into a thin line of worry.
Carey stared at the floor. “You don’t know him. He’s not like regular men. He’s not even like the Vagabond Killer. He doesn’t do his own dirty work. He pays someone to do it for him. And he pays well because he wants the best. I don’t stand a chance against the men that work for Mark. And what about you and your family? What if he tries to hurt you?” Worry flooded her face.
Reilly could handle this. Her concern was unneeded, though it did please him that she cared. “He’s not going to do anything to you or anyone else because when I see him, he’s done.”
Carey dragged a hand through her hair, shoving it behind her ears. “You don’t know how powerful he is. You don’t know the kinds of things he’s capable of.”
Reilly set his jaw. “You’re right. But I’ve never run from someone who needed my help. You need my help.”
Carey took a deep breath and let it out. She closed her eyes for a few moments and then opened them. “Let’s get through this lineup. After that, I’ll see what I can do.”
Quiet rage at the man who had hurt her hummed inside him. How sick was Mark that Carey was more afraid of him than a serial killer?
* * *
Reilly could sense Carey’s tension. The long drive to Denver didn’t give her much else to do except think. Think about Mark. Think about the Vagabond Killer case. And unless his instincts were off, think about him and what had happened between them.
He wanted to be honest with her. It might clear the air and make her feel better. “I need to tell you something that I should have told you before.” Before he had slept with her. Before he had let himself get involved that deeply with her.
She seemed surprised that he’d broken the silence that had stretched between them since they’d left his parents’ house. “Sounds ominous, but go ahead.”
It was more difficult to find the words than he’d imagined. “When I was a rookie detective, my partner Lucas made the mistake of getting too close to a victim on a case. He felt bad for her and wanted to make things better.”
Carey didn’t say anything, just watched him from the passenger seat with deep, soulful eyes.
“When it was time for her to testify, the defense twisted Lucas’s relationship into something inappropriate.” Thinking of it made him angry all over again. “They accused him of coaching her with details of the crime and by the time they were done, the jury didn’t believe her testimony. The defendant walked. Not guilty on all counts.”
Carey’s eyes softened with compassion and she reached out and squeezed his upper arm. “Reilly, I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
“Lucas had to resign, and for months the department was under scrutiny by the public and by lawyers. It was a disaster. The worst part was, the guy struck again two weeks later. That time, he made sure the victim didn’t live to testify against him.”
A death for which Reilly felt responsible. If he had seen what Lucas was doing, if he had talked to Lucas before it went too far, there wouldn’t have been a second victim. The criminal would have spent the rest of his days in prison. “I blame myself for not seeing it.”
“You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions. I’m sure you did everything you could.”
He could have done more. “I never want that situation to play itself out again. I don’t want the Vagabond Killer or Mark to walk free because of how I feel for you. I want you to have the life you deserve and that means not living in fear.”
Her thumb stroked his arm. “My identification and testimony for either case has nothing to do with you. Anything I saw happened before I met you.”
He wanted to see the difference. How he felt for Carey was unlike his feelings for any other woman. The intensity alone was soul-shaking. “I want to believe that. I want a jury to believe that. I want Mark and the Vagabond Killer caught and put away so you’re safe. That’s why we can’t be involved now.”
Her eyes darkened with sadness. “That’s why you said we shouldn’t have slept together.”
At his nod of affirmation, Carey continued. “Even if they catch the Vagabond Killer, charging Mark could take years. And he’ll weasel out of whatever cage you try to put him in. Even in prison, he would find a way to have someone come for me.”
No. Reilly wouldn’t allow that. This time the case was going to play itself out on his terms. They’d catch the Vagabond Killer and Mark and, with Carey’s help, send them to prison for the rest of their miserable lives.
“He’s not going to find you. I’m going to find him and then I’m going to take him down.”
* * *
Carey let his words replay through her mind. Reilly was trying to explain his behavior, which she had found herself at odds with sometimes. His behavior the night before had hurt her. “Have you considered the possibility that if Mark goes down, he’ll take me with him?”
That seemed to startle Reilly. His tone took on a seriousness she’d never heard from him before. “If there is something you’ve done that could come out when we find him, you need to tell me now.”
When she thought back over her life, she could pinpoint a hundred things she’d seen or heard that she’d ignored and shouldn’t have. She would have to tread carefully here, not wanting to bring more trouble her way. “I can list a hundred events that are subject to scrutiny. I was dating a very bad man. Some people would find me guilty by association.”
“I can best protect you if I know everything.”
Carey closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. This was ground over which she hadn’t wanted to tread. “Anything I know is speculation. I can’t prove anything.”
“Then what are you afraid of?” His voice was soft and tender.
“Mark could twist the activities of a saint. He could say I knew what he was doing and that I did nothing.”
“Did you?”
She shook her head, closing her eyes to hold the tears that threatened to spill out and slip down her cheeks. “Not until the end.” Not until her father had died did she question his life. Her life. Their life.
“Then you don’t have a reason to be afraid.”
Reilly only wanted to see the best-case scenario, ending with Mark and the Vagabond Killer being caught and her walking away unscathed. “You don’t know Mark. He’ll pick up on the guilt I feel. How did I not know?” She opened her eyes and tears ran down her cheeks. “I should have guessed. I should have asked questions or paid attention. I was old enough to know something was wrong.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s not a crime to know something. You were scared. You did your best. No court will hold you responsible for staying quiet.”
In an ideal world that was true. Her world was corrupt and dirty. “Depends which court. Mark has bribed plenty of law enforcement officers, judges and clerks. What would stop him from buying favorable rulings?”
“He can’t buy me.”
Carey considered that. No, Reilly wouldn’t be bought. He’d resisted the temptation and he wouldn’t sell her out for money. But what if he found out who she was? Would his feelings for her change? Would he stop wanting to protect her?
What about the risk to his family? If their lives were in danger, would Reilly back down? She wouldn’t expect him to
put their safety before her. “You have other liabilities.”
He caught her meaning quickly. “If someone went after my family, they are more than capable of taking care of themselves. My dad is pretty laid-back, but if anyone tried to hurt my mom, he’d take them out. No questions asked.”
Carey felt a pang somewhere in her heart. Had her father felt that way about her? He had shielded her from his business and kept her on a tight leash. But where had she ranked in his life? “You’re lucky to have people in your life who care about you that much.”
“You have someone in your life who cares about you.”
Reilly’s actions had shown it, but she wanted the words. She inclined her head.
He laid his hand over hers. “Me.”
One word that delivered volumes. Reilly cared for her. He trusted her. And the crazy thing was, she felt the same about him. Could she have a future with Reilly? Had he been right all along, that Mark and the Vagabond Killer could be caught and jailed, leaving her free to live her life?
In many ways, she couldn’t fixate on those hopes. Reilly didn’t know who she was. If he did, everything would change.
It wouldn’t take him long to piece together who she was. Haley and Mark were common enough names, but a detective would figure it out. Father who’d died recently. Woman on the run. Reilly would learn about her past and then he’d change his mind about helping her. Why would he want to help the daughter of a criminal?
“Do you really think this is going to work?” she asked.
“What is ‘this’?”
Every question seemed to take on two meanings: their forbidden relationship and the problem with the Vagabond Killer and Mark. She wasn’t pressing him about their relationship. He’d been clear about his reasons for not wanting to be involved with her. “Getting into the city without someone seeing me.”
“We’ve come up with a pretty solid plan. No one knows the exact location of the lineup except my boss and Vanessa. We’ll take care of the lineup, Vanessa’s arranged a safe place for us to stay the night and we’ll be back at the ranch by tomorrow afternoon.”
Information had a way of leaking. A reporter could be in the right place at the right time and recognize her. “Do you think Mark will be waiting for me in the city?”
A muscle in Reilly’s jaw ticked. “He might be in the city, but he won’t know where the lineup is. We’ve asked the Vagabond Killer’s lawyer to use discretion to protect your privacy.”
The nagging feeling wouldn’t let go of her thoughts. “But if he is?”
“If he is, I’ll be ready for him.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, letting go after a few seconds. She read comfort and support in his gesture, felt the flare of desire and smothered it. White Knight syndrome again. It ran rampant in the Truman family. Reilly had no idea what he was saying or who he was going up against.
He must have sensed her apprehension. “You’ll be at my side whenever we’re in public places and if he shoots at me, he’ll be shooting at an officer. An armed officer,” Reilly added.
She hated guns, but knowing Reilly had protection soothed her nerves. Mark was vicious and he’d hurt anyone who got in his way. His words from the news clip sprung into her mind. We have one legal issue we’re close to eliminating. A chill shuddered inside her. If she didn’t warn Reilly about Mark and who he was and what he could do, Reilly wouldn’t know how to best protect himself. Mark wasn’t a petty criminal with a checkered past. He was an all-out, career criminal. Telling Reilly the truth about Mark could help, but it could also give Reilly enough clues to uncover her identity. Wouldn’t he figure it out eventually? Was it best to tell him and get it over with? What if he got hurt because she didn’t tell him how to prepare?
Reilly’s phone buzzed and he handed it to her. “That’s probably Vanessa. Can you read the text?”
Carey took the phone and opened the text. “It says 2:00 a.m., Lakewood police station.”
“Great.” He glanced at the clock. “We’ll be on time.”
Carey flipped the station on the radio, needing music to distract her from her worries. She listened listlessly to the radio and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, buying herself time to think about her next move and how she was going to protect Reilly.
* * *
At 1:00 a.m., Reilly received a second text message from Vanessa.
“She says 2:00 a.m., Commerce City police station,” Carey said. “Why would she change the location?”
Reilly glanced at her. “Probably another part of the plan to keep the information from leaking. She’s cutting it close though. But we’ll get there. Don’t worry about it.”
Carey wasn’t worried about making the lineup on time. She was worried about getting in and out without incident.
At 2:00 a.m., they pulled into the Commerce City police station.
“I don’t know this station or these officers, so stick close,” Reilly said, circling the car to the rear of the building.
Close to Reilly was where she wanted to be. He parked against the sidewalk, Carey’s door closest to the entrance.
Carey took a deep breath and tried to smother the chilling sense of foreboding that ignited in her gut. As they had neared the police station, Reilly had grown more alert, his shoulders tight and his eyes seemed to take in everything around them. He was concerned, too. Or at least, he wasn’t wholly unaffected by the situation.
Dark shadows concealed the farthest corners of the parking lot and several police cruisers were parked along the fence at the end of the lot. The lot was monitored with cameras.
She could do this. She remembered what the Vagabond Killer looked like and she could pick him out of a lineup. Forgetting his face was impossible. It would be over in ten minutes. She could do this for Reilly, for herself, for the city and rely on Reilly’s unwavering strength to power through. Once she’d done her part, she wouldn’t be obligated to stay with the Trumans. Vanessa would find a way to build her case and keep the Vagabond Killer behind bars. The thoughts should have brought her relief, but only sadness torqued through her.
“Stay in the car. Let me come around to get you,” Reilly said.
Reilly got out of the car and circled the front, opening her door.
She was safe. She was with Reilly. Everything was going to be fine. She stood, staying close to his body. The memory of being in his arms simmered inside her, mixing with the warmth of nostalgia. If this was the end of the road for them, she would remember every touch, every kiss fondly and without sadness for what she’d lost when it ended.
She took a step away so he could close her door. A whizzing by her head had her turning in surprise.
Reilly shoved her back into the car and drew his gun. “Get down!”
Terror and adrenaline tore through her veins. Someone was shooting at them. What should she do?
Reilly raced around the front of the car, looking into the dark. He got in the driver’s seat.
“I can’t see where the shots are coming from.” Reilly started the engine and shifted into Drive, jamming on the gas, sending the car lurching forward.
A bullet slammed into the rear driver’s-side window.
Carey yelped. “We need to call for help.”
Reilly gunned the engine and sped out of the parking lot.
Carey’s heart pounded so hard she couldn’t hear over the sound.
“Carey,” Reilly said, his voice cutting through her terror. He handed her his phone. “Dial 9-1-1. Put the phone on speaker.”
With trembling fingers Carey pressed the buttons and did as Reilly asked.
“9-1-1, state your emergency.” The voice was calm and professional.
“This is Detective Reilly Truman of the DPD, badge ID Adam David five seven four three. Officer requesting assistance. Shots fired in the parking lot of the Commerce City police station. I’ve fled the scene with a civilian.”
Carey heard the dispatcher typing at her keyboard. “Are you somewhere safe?”
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br /> Reilly ignored her question. “Possible multiple shooters at large. Proceed with extreme caution.”
Bile rose in her throat. Mark had found a way to get to her. How had he known she would be there?
“Do not return to the scene. Are you in a safe place, Detective Truman?” the dispatcher asked again.
“We’re fine.” With that Reilly disconnected the call. “Call Vanessa,” Reilly said and swore. “We’re being followed.” He jammed the gas and the engine roared louder. “Carey, slouch down low.”
Carey did as he asked. She found Vanessa’s number in his address book and called. The phone rang four times, then Vanessa answered. Carey put the call on speakerphone.
“Where are you? When you didn’t show, I thought you were dead,” Vanessa said. The worry was evident in the shrillness of her voice.
The car shuddered as Reilly hit the brakes and whipped the car onto the on-ramp to the highway. “We just left the Commerce City police station.”
“What were you doing there? I texted you to come to the Lakewood police station.”
Reilly and Carey exchanged glances. “I got two text messages from you. The first said Lakewood and the second said Commerce City.”
“I only sent the one message,” Vanessa said.
Dread coiled in Carey’s stomach. Mark. He’d found a way to send another message from Vanessa. He could have hired computer hackers to install spyware on Vanessa’s phone. Or Reilly’s. Or everyone’s at the police station. “Did you have the lineup schedule in your phone?” Carey asked.
Vanessa swore. “It was in my phone’s calendar, but no names. Why? Do you think someone messed with my phone?”
It was precisely what Carey thought.
“We can’t rule it out,” Reilly said. “Look, Van, we’ve got someone tailing us. I can’t talk now. I just needed to know you were okay.”
“You and the witness need to get somewhere safe. We got the wrong guy and it’s a disaster over here.”
Reilly made a sharp turn off the highway. The speed and the curving road made Carey feel as if the car was going to flip.
“Wait, what do you mean you got the wrong guy?” Reilly asked through clenched teeth.
