RENEGADE'S REDEMPTION

by Lindsey Longford

  “Well, do you, Royal?”

  “Your call, Beau.” Royal let his answer send a silent message that he’d fill in the gaps, that he understood the risks Beau had taken. Out of friendship? Loyalty? For the sake of old bonds? He didn’t know. He did know that he owed the man for what he’d done this night. “You handle it.”

  Beau gave a decisive nod. Message received. “Right.” He took Elly by the elbow and led her back to the couch. “What do you say, Ms. Malloy?”

  Elly’s dress was a narrow stripe of pink against the smooth gray linen, and she seemed so overwhelmed by the three of them, so alone that Royal wanted to shove Beau out of the way, grab her and the kid and find a fast plane to anywhere else. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t protect her without Beau’s help.

  “You’re ‘mizzing’ me to death, Detective. What happened to Beau and Elly? You’re sounding so official I don’t know whether to confess or hold out my hands for the cuffs.” Her laugh was shaky, but she’d found a remnant of humor somehow.

  Royal felt like giving her a big “Atta girl,” but he was half-afraid she’d knock him out of his socks if he did.

  “Right. Elly.” Pulling the black - and - white - striped ottoman closer to her, Beau sat down and leaned against the edge of the couch. Like Royal, he was careful not to crowd her. “Leesha, any chance you could find something to eat? I think we’d all feel a whole lot better with some food. If you don’t mind?”

  “Sure thing, honey.”

  Catching Leesha’s amused smile and raised eyebrow as she answered, Royal figured Beau would be paying for that delayed “if you don’t mind.”

  Elly didn’t speak until Alicia returned, almost as if she needed the presence of another woman in the room. Finally, picking apart the strands of a piece of string cheese Elly finally said, “Go ahead, Beau. Royal’s right. These men are connected to me. Alicia deserves to know. You do, too.”

  Templing his fingers, Beau crisply enumerated what Royal had suspected and had guessed at. “Elly Malloy has no past. The paper trail stops a few months back.”

  Elly started, and then clasped her hands together, watching Beau with fascinated attention.

  “You applied for a driver’s license using the most basic identification. A library card as proof of residence. A certificate of completion from a driver’straining class of dubious reputation. No history of social-security payments, a couple of easy-access credit cards that popped up in your credit report. But far as I can figure, Elly Malloy sprang full-grown in Palmaflora. A woman without a past.”

  “You found all that out in a couple of hours?” Elly leaned back against the sofa and shut her eyes. “That was fast.”

  “In a few more hours, Elly, I would have found out what your real name is.”

  “Oh.”

  Easing near her, Royal said, “Beau likes computers. He has sources. Of all kinds.” He gently touched her scar. “Tell us about this, Elly. How it happened. Tell us who you are.” He knew. Beau and Leesha didn’t. The information had to come from Elly, not him.

  Jerking forward, she bent her head between her knees, taking deep, raspy breaths. She didn’t look at them. “My ex-husband hired two men to kill me.”

  Scanlon had said Elly faked her death. Royal hadn’t believed that lie since first meeting her. Now, in this serene room as Elly’s low voice recited the horror of that night. Scanlon’s lie became obscene.

  “Yes?” Beau didn’t move, didn’t distract her from her recitation by so much as a gesture. “Go ahead, Elly,” he encouraged, and Royal remembered again how much he’d enjoyed working with Beau. The man was a natural-born interrogator, better than Maggie had ever been.

  Before the shooting changed her into the stranger who married Sullivan Barnett, Maggie had been direct, too blunt for the kind of circuitous questioning that worked best. The kind of head games Beau and Royal grooved to.

  “Your ex-husband tried to kill you.” Beau restated the information as Elly’s mouth worked silently, the words not coming out. “And when was that, Elly? While you were still married?” He handed her the glass of tea.

  “No.” She shook her head, kept shaking it.

  Beau set the glass on an ebony-and-brass end table. “They tried to kill you—” he said again, priming the pump of confession, of revelation, and Royal smiled grimly. Nobody was better than Beau at getting people to spill their secrets. “When did you say that was, Elly?” Like honey, his words flowed into the silence.

  “After our divorce was finalized,” she began, speech finally coming. “This past December. They shot—” she swallowed “—they shot me. In the garage of the house. Tommy and I had … we’d gone to Naples to visit my parents. I … I had to come back to the house. I’d left behind … something … a package I needed. The men were waiting for me. In the garage. When I drove in. The garage light was out. I thought the opener was broken. They must have taken out the bulb. I don’t know, but the door opener didn’t work right, I drove in and then there they were.”

  Royal closed his hand over the fluffy cloud of her hair, the fragile shape of her head. He touched her scar, that narrow white line of pain and terror. He’d guessed that Scanlon had lied, but this was evil. Scanlon had sent those men after her in the dark, in her own home where she would be most defenseless. “And then what did you do?”

  “Nothing. I can’t remember what happened after…” Her rocking continued, slow, steady. “After.” Her face wiped clean of emotion, she rubbed her forehead in a monotonous, almost robotic fashion. “Tommy ran for help.” She rocked back and forth, over and over, her voice so calm it frightened Royal.

  Scanlon was a dead man. And Royal was going to make sure he suffered, one way or another. “He ran to—?”

  She paused in her unconscious rocking. “A friend’s.” Hunched over, she didn’t move, not even her clasped hands. In that dreadful blankness, it was clear she was reliving those final moments.

  “A friend who helped you go into hiding.” He curved his hands over her shoulders and worked at the tight muscles. “Who helped you establish a second identity.”

  “No.” She sighed and doubled over, resting her face in her hands. “I wouldn’t ask her for that kind of help. Blake would have made her life a hell on earth if he knew she’d helped me the way she did.”

  “Blake?” Royal slipped his question in. The identification had to come from her.

  “My husband.” Like Royal, she was still keeping her own secrets. She didn’t name Scanlon.

  “What did your friend do?”

  Elly raised her head. “She came back to the car. I was unconscious, but somehow she got me out of the car.” Her hands fluttered in the air, conjuring the scene, the coppery smell of her blood. The terrified child who’d run for help. Drawing in her breath, Elly finished. “Then Meggie cleaned me up and stitched the wound. Tommy and I vanished. At least I tried to.”

  “Doctors have to report gunshot wounds.” Beau sent Royal a significant look.

  Royal knew that expression and gave Beau a faint nod. Something about Elly’s story was making Beau uneasy. Like him, Beau had picked up on the omission, the two details Elly had skirted over. The attack came after the divorce. Why had she gone back to the house? And perhaps most important, why had Scanlon ordered her killed if they were already divorced? Where was the advantage, the profit, to Scanlon? Elly had said the attack came afterward. So what was Scanlon’s motivation? And why would Elly lie about when the attack occurred? Even now, she wouldn’t give Scanlon’s full name.

  From long experience working with Beau, Royal knew he would check every detail.

  “Did your friend take you to the emergency room of a hospital?”

  A faint smile flickered over Elly’s pale face. “She’s a veterinarian. And my friend. She didn’t report anything. Nobody knew she was involved. I don’t like to involve my friends.” She shot Royal a faintly hostile glance. “It’s not fair to them. They can get hurt. Killed.”


  “How did you and Tommy get away?”

  “Meggie drove us downtown. We walked to the Trailwinds Bus Station. I wouldn’t let her take us all the way. I didn’t want anybody connecting her with that night. She wouldn’t be safe. I don’t know what Blake would have done to make her talk. Something. Anything.” Her head dropped wearily. “I married Blake. And he became a monster.” Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. “I loved him, made love with him. And all along, behind the smiles, this other man waited. What did I do?” she whispered. “How could I have been so naive? So trusting?” She scrubbed her wet face. “What kind of fool was I? What did I miss?”

  *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  “Not one damned thing.” Speaking for the first time, her voice husky with emotion, Leesha broke the hush that fell over the three of them with Elly’s words. “People are what they are. Some of them are like icebergs. You see only a fraction of what’s hidden. You weren’t the problem. You didn’t make a mistake. You didn’t turn him into a monster. He did that himself.” Leesha stuck her hands on her hips and rounded on Beau and Royal. “Y’all stop this right now. Elly’s going to bed. Talk all you want to, hash over whatever you need to, but can’t you see she’s exhausted?”

  Royal shifted uncomfortably, looked at Beau and then started to explain. “We were—”

  “Hush. I know what you were doing. She’s had enough of your questions. I know we need answers and explanations, and all that stuff, but here’s the deal, folks. Elly’s going to bed.” With irritation, her husky voice dropped into an exaggerated drawl. “I’m goin’ to bed. We’re callin’ it a night. Tomorrow, we’ll work out the details and decide how we’re going to finesse this caper.” She stooped and took Elly’s hands. “Come on, Elly. You can go to sleep. Nothing’s going to happen until tomorrow. Men. Cops. Get an idea in their head and don’t have enough sense to quit. Just like a dumb chicken that’ll stand out in the rain and stare up at the sky until it drowns. You and Tommy are plumb tuckered out. You’re asleep on your feet, and Beau and Royal can’t see what’s going on in front of their faces. Let’s go, Elly.”

  Obediently, Elly stood up. She stumbled. Royal started forward, to go with her, and she looked back at him, dazed, as though momentarily she didn’t recognize him. Leesha’s frown stopped him in his tracks. “Leave her alone. You men have done enough. I’m calling it a night. And I’m going to bed, too.” She gave Beau a level, unfriendly stare. “In the guest room, Detective Beauregard Bienvenue.” In a flash of scarlet and caramel, her sleek legs took her out of the room. Grumbling with every step, she directed Elly in front of her.

  “Whew.” Beau grinned. “When she’s on my side, she’ll defend me like a tiger, won’t she? Can’t you see how one of these days she’ll make sure I’m not passed over for chief of police?”

  “What I think is that you’ll be lucky to get her to walk down the aisle with you. I’m telling you, Beau, she wasn’t looking at you like the future father of her children.”

  “Leesha’s a passionate woman.” Beau’s gaze lingered on the hall somberly, his expression at odds with his words.

  “And she’s feeling passionate right now about the way Elly’s husband treated her?”

  “Leesha’s got a soft spot for women who have to deal with bad guys. Bad-guy husbands. Boyfriends.” Beau circled the room restlessly. “She ever tell you about her first husband?”

  His own gaze drifting to the hall and his ears tuned to the sound of Elly’s murmuring voice, Royal shook his head. Elly was talking to Leesha. That was good. Elly would be easier with the decision to leave Tommy in Leesha’s care. Absently, he answered Beau. “Only that the marriage lasted two years. Leesha’s never talked to me about him.”

  Collecting the plates and glasses, Beau stood irresolutely, the plates held in front of him. “What the hell. Maggie knows. You might as well. Leesha was married at nineteen. She quit college to marry the jerk. Huh.” Beau shook his head in disgust. “That smart woman quit because Clyde Moody didn’t want a wife who was busy with anything except filling his needs. He said she didn’t have time for him if she was going to school. To make the proverbial long story short, he almost killed her before she was able to walk away from him. She can’t have children because of him. So, no, she damned well wasn’t looking at me like the future father of her children. For Leesha and me, there won’t be any children except the ones at the day-care center.”

  “I see.” Royal pivoted. He’d been surprised by that look of uncertainty on Beau’s face. “That’s the reason you’re both dancing back and forth about marriage? Not because of your flower-buzzing ways?”

  “Seems to be. I don’t care.” Beau shrugged. “Sure, I like kids. My brothers’ kids are cute. But I get to play with them and then walk away. I get to go home to a good night’s sleep, too.” His grin was mischievous. “Andy and Michael now, they don’t.”

  “They still in Tampa?”

  “Yeah. Andy made lieutenant. Michael wants to stay on the street. But he’s young. Four kids may make him change his mind. Michael and Rhea are … busy folks, let me tell you.” Beau chuckled. “Between cop work, croup and chicken pox, both of my baby brothers are busy.” He rinsed the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher.

  “You like your nieces and nephews. You’re good with them. They swarm all over you. I always reckoned you’d have a big family.”

  “Yeah, well, they don’t have a lick of sense. Kids are okay. But I can see being happy in my life without them. I can sure as hell see myself happy with Leesha. And not missing a little clone of myself.” He leaned back on the sink counter and braced his arms on the rim. “Now, I might regret not having a clone of Leesha, though.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “I’m nuts about her. Nothing I can do about it, either. I’ve tried. Got any love potions, Royal?”

  “Nary a one, friend.” Royal opened the refrigerator door and held it. Reaching in for a beer, he confronted the issue between them. “Want one? Or maybe we aren’t refrigerator-opening friends anymore?” With the beer in hand, he waited.

  “Seems to me that decision’s in your hand.” Beau pointed to the beer. “Not mine.”

  “You want a beer?” Royal waited. This was the test. If Beau knew him as well as Royal hoped, if any remnant of friendship remained… If Beau trusted him at all—

  Narrowing his eyes, Beau took the bottle. “We’re going to talk about the past, are we? We’re finally going to bring everything out into the open?”

  “Let’s talk on your porch.” Royal unlocked the French doors and stepped out onto the screened-in porch Beau had built. Baskets of flowers, their colors pale in the darkness, swung from the ceiling rafters, their scents soft in the heat.

  “You can’t help taking over, can you? Even in somebody else’s house.” Beau stretched out on a chaise longue that had been added since the last time Royal had visited. “Okay. The doctor’s in.” He watched as Royal took a deliberately long swallow of beer. “Damn you. You’re testing me, aren’t you?”

  “I suppose so.” Royal sat down in a chair opposite the chaise and rolled the bottle between his hands. “This kills me to ask for help, Beau, but I’m out on a limb and there’s a man with a chain saw down at the bottom of the tree. I don’t mind so much for myself—”

  “But Elly and Tommy have hooked you,” Beau finished, tipping his bottle and drinking. “I thought so. You look at her like a man who hasn’t had a meal in three weeks. What’s the deal with them?”

  At Beau’s deliberate change of subject. Royal almost dropped his bottle. Gripping it more securely, he asked, astonished, “You don’t want me to confess about my wicked ways? You don’t want the tell-all about why I quit the force?”

  “A week ago, yes, I’d have taken those answers. I thought you owed me explanations. We were partners for a long time before you and Maggie were paired up. But tonight, seeing you with Elly, all my doubts are settled. You never turned. You didn’t sell out to t
he politicians and then try to cover yourself by lying about the corruption in the department.”

  Royal swallowed. After all this time, Beau’s simple statement of faith had such enormous power. He looked away from his friend, unable to hold his gaze. On the other side of the closed French doors, Leesha walked through the kitchen. She stared at them impassively and then poured a glass of water and walked back to the hall and out of sight.

  Following Royal’s gaze, Beau said, “You couldn’t have known Chief Jackson was hand in glove with Charlie Callahan on that toxic-dumping scheme. You wouldn’t have helped Jackson cover up a murder. I should have been clearer about that all along no matter what everybody was saying about you getting off scot-free. I should have had more faith in you, in what I knew about you. All that drinking and screwing up was just you thumbing your nose at everybody, wasn’t it?”

  Royal muttered. He couldn’t speak. Back and forth, he rolled the bottle until it was warm, all the cold sweat dried by the friction of his palms.

  “Probably ticked you off that folks were so quick to think the worst, and you got all puckered up and decided you might as well rub their faces in it. That’s how I see it now, anyway. You, going your own way, and to hell with what everybody thought.” Leaning forward, Beau stuck out his hand. “I owe you an apology. Because I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt. Because I didn’t see through the act. I should have been a better cop. A better friend. I should have understood. I didn’t. I judged the book by the cover. I was wrong.”

  Royal’s throat closed. His voice was raspy. “Thanks.” He clasped the hand held out to him, the hand that welcomed him back. “Thanks. This, uh, well, you know—”

  “Damn. You’re a slick-talking dude when you put your mind to it, Royal. Shut up and drink your beer.” Beau’s teeth flashed in a grin. “No, on second thought, fill me in on Elly. Because I’m a mite confused about some of the details.”