Double Cross

by DiAnn Mills

  He yawned and returned to the computer screen. Where was Liz Austin hiding out, if that was even her real name?

  A scraping sound outside the kitchen door leading into the garage alerted him to an intruder. It sounded again. Granted, he was working in the dark, and an intruder might think he was in bed. An animal? Unlikely.

  Wrapping his fingers around his Glock and grabbing his phone, he moved toward the door. Surprise was one of his favorite tactics. The exterior door of the garage had a dead bolt but was not hooked up to his alarm system. He moved closer to where the sound had originated. Silence.

  Gun poised, Daniel stood in the dark for over two minutes. Slowly he released the kitchen door lock and twisted the knob, pushing it open with his foot to avoid a possible bullet. He snapped on the light.

  Nothing.

  The rear door leading to the backyard stood open about three inches. He distinctly remembered locking it. He turned the garage light off and inched toward the exterior door, then flipped the outside light on. Quiet shadows failed to light the right side of the area. He grabbed an old bandanna from a nail and wrapped it around the handle of a rake. With the rake in his left hand and his gun in his right, he poked the rake outside. A bullet ripped off the cloth and lodged into the garage wall. A figure loomed to his right.

  Daniel returned fire.

  Someone groaned.

  The gate squeaked open. A smaller man or teen rushed toward the front of the house and the curb. Daniel raced after him. The intruder jumped onto a Yamaha and took off down the street. Daniel sped back to the garage and turned on the exterior lights. No footprints or tire marks to photograph for evidence.

  Before he called HPD, he wanted to check his garage and truck. Nothing appeared out of place, and Daniel memorized where every tool and piece of equipment was stashed.

  He stared at his truck. A bomb? Wired to explode when he turned on the engine or with a cell phone trigger?

  One way to find out. He crawled under his truck and used the flashlight on his phone to examine the undercarriage.

  Very clever. Why did it look like the bad guys were winning?

  He walked back inside and out to the street before pressing in a number. “This is Officer Daniel Hilton. I need a bomb squad at my home.”

  CHAPTER 26

  12:30 A.M. SATURDAY

  Laurel woke to pounding at her door. The clock on her nightstand blared the time: after midnight. Who wanted to see her at this hour? Her heart thudded. This couldn’t be good.

  She flung off the quilt, grabbed her firearm, and raced to the door. “Who’s there?”

  “Su-Min.”

  She confirmed through her peephole, laid down the weapon on a nearby table, and opened the door. “Isn’t it a little late for a visit?”

  Su-Min staggered, and her breath smelled of alcohol. “It’s a perfect time.” She pushed herself inside and pointed her finger into Laurel’s face. “Because of you, I’ve been denied a promotion. You ruined my career.”

  “I’m sure you managed that all by yourself.” Laurel crossed her arms over her chest. She’d seen Su-Min drunk before, and it wasn’t pretty.

  “I have no choice but to ask for a transfer.”

  “Go for it.”

  The finger continued to wag in Laurel’s face. “You chose a killer over the mission statement of the FBI. All those times you called me crying about your nightmares of Jesse’s death. Lies. One after another, and I fell for it.”

  Laurel needed to get rid of Su-Min. Cayden’s men had seen her, and this late-night call could ruin the mission. “Get out. It’s none of your business who I love or want to spend the rest of my life with.” Her voice rose. “What do you want from me anyway?”

  Su-Min raised her chin. “Nothing. Just want you to know that you’re a stupid—”

  “And you have.” She shoved Su-Min out the door and stood with her on the landing. “I’ll call a taxi.”

  “No thanks. I’ll drive. One day you’ll pay for what you’ve done.” Su-Min wobbled down the steps until she disappeared.

  Laurel listened for a car to start up and leave. Her shoulder throbbed along with the heartache of losing a friend . . . even if their relationship had been superficial.

  Hopefully Cayden’s men heard it all. Wilmington’s men too. A tear slipped down her cheek. She hated this ruse. Once this was over, she’d still have nothing but miserable regrets.

  Just as she drifted off to sleep, Wilmington called.

  “You sound like you’re not doing well,” he said.

  “Sort of.”

  “Heard your ex-partner came by.”

  Cayden must know too. “Fun times. Ran her off.”

  “I’m sorry. Won’t take much of your time. Hilton found a bomb under his truck tonight. HPD disarmed it.”

  Daniel targeted? Had Cayden seen them together . . . ? Or could it have been Josie? “Is he all right?”

  “Yes.”

  She closed her eyes. “I assume Cayden’s responsible?”

  “One of his people. Since I didn’t see Josie tonight, it might have been her. Hilton thought he shot the intruder but no blood spatters. We’ll see if anyone shows up at the hospitals or all-night clinics.”

  “Thanks. We should get his DNA, see if we can link him to any other crimes. This has been going on for eight years, and the man’s not that bright.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “What else do you know?”

  “Dinner with Cayden brought us one step closer. I used his hatred of the Army, actually with all forms of law enforcement, to talk up your bitterness with the FBI.”

  “Did he buy it?”

  “Not yet. SSA Preston and I’ve talked about a way to prove our loyalty to Cayden. He’ll call us in the morning to confirm.”

  “Like what? A drug buy?”

  “Has to be more substantial.”

  She bolted alert. “Are we going to stage a murder?”

  “Yes. He’s bringing in a special agent from violent crime.”

  “Who?”

  “Thatcher Graves.”

  “Great. I graduated from Quantico with him.”

  “Get some rest. Preston will conference us in on a call midmorning. We’ll stage this on Sunday night.”

  After hanging up, Laurel made her way to the kitchen for a pain pill. Now she’d be labeled as a killer.

  CHAPTER 27

  9:42 A.M. SATURDAY

  Abby treasured being in her own home even under the dire circumstances. If she lost her vision to the macular degeneration creeping into her eyes, she could still roam from one room to another and not get lost. Every piece of furniture, plant, doorway, and bend in the winding stairway were sealed in memory.

  She loved the life she and Earl had built. Good times. Tough times. But always with God as the head of their marriage. Too many people failed to notice His hand in the events of life, thinking being a Christian made them free of heartache and trouble. Quite the opposite. The more she trusted, the more the devil tossed her way. Daniel was their blessing when Jimmy chose selfishness. They’d dealt with years of guilt before realizing Jimmy was responsible for his own poor choices. She and Earl had done all they could.

  Gracious, she was getting old. Only an old woman tried to make sense of life.

  Nameless faces stalked Earl and her. Who was behind selling the life insurance policies that named a scammer as beneficiary? Neither Tom’s nor Emma’s families wanted autopsies, so it looked like the killer had gotten away with it. What if the killer was a friend, a person whom they trusted? What turned a man to murder and a lack of respect for others? What if the man was hungry and had children to feed? But the scammer wasn’t stealing to provide for the needy—he was greedy for what he could not get legally. She rubbed her arms. Jimmy’s addiction had caused him to do the unthinkable. She shouldn’t be surprised that others had evil intentions.

  The person who’d planted a bomb under Daniel’s truck made her see red—bloodred. The bomb had been
wired to his ignition. The thought of losing him was more than she could bear. God, what are You thinking with this mess?

  She knew in her head that He was in the business of handling unseen evil. But fear still riddled her. She’d had her bags packed to meet Jesus for years, but what about Earl, Daniel, Laurel, and all the elderly victims?

  Abby didn’t believe for one minute that Laurel had chosen a life with a criminal over her dedication to the FBI. Laurel had goodness stamped into her heart. Something was going on behind the scenes, and Abby prayed the good guys stayed safe.

  She stood at the wall of windows in the sunroom and watched her beloved husband. He rocked on the patio in the warm morning and stared ahead, an indication his mind dwelled beyond the here and now. He held a dog collar. They’d had a collie for sixteen years, but he passed just before Earl was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The dog had been not only a constant companion, but also a member of the family.

  Earl’s disease progressed far too quickly. Some days she wanted to believe the medications had successfully stopped its advance, especially when he spoke with the wisdom of days gone by, like the insight into Daniel’s problem with his mother.

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and she whisked it away. This old woman needed to help find the scammers in some way. And sitting in her home with a bodyguard made her feel worthless. But right now bringing Earl a tall glass of ginger-peach iced tea would have to suffice.

  Abby stepped onto the patio with Earl’s drink. “Brought you something.”

  He smiled and reached for it, his hands shaking until she took the dog collar and wrapped his other hand around the glass too.

  “Thank you, Abby girl. I’ve been thinking.”

  She sat in a rocker beside him. “About what?”

  “Jimmy. There’s got to be a way to reach him. He’s been in jail. We’ve paid for three rehabilitation centers, and still he persists in breaking the law. I tried to persuade him to join the military, thinking the discipline would help. But that went nowhere.” He took a gulp of the iced tea. “There’s a Benedictine monastery in Switzerland known for treating addictions. What do you think?”

  They’d sent Jimmy there when he was nineteen. Hadn’t helped because Jimmy fought the program and walked out. “Do you think he’d go willingly?”

  “I really don’t know. I wish I could help him. Wish even more I could figure out what I’d done wrong.”

  “We didn’t do anything wrong. So stop belittling yourself.” She patted his shoulder. “You take action however you think is best. Right now I’m going to bake something for Officer Pete. Glad he’s working the day shift. Gives me someone to talk to.”

  “Who am I?” His clouded eyes whispered confusion.

  “You’re my sweet husband.”

  “Brownies with pecans and a chocolate glaze?”

  “Always.” She kissed his cheek and set the dog collar in his lap.

  Twenty minutes later, with the goodies in the oven, she checked on Earl. He’d disappeared from the back porch. She stepped outside and searched the yard.

  “Earl? Where are you?”

  She looked behind several old oaks, calling his name. The rear gate leading to a small grove of trees stood open. Normally it was locked, the key hidden under a flowerpot on the back porch. A path through those woods ended near Memorial Drive. Panic rose like a bubbling pot.

  She clutched her heart and raced to the house, calling Pete’s name.

  10:30 A.M. SATURDAY

  Daniel received the call from Pete that Gramps had wandered off. Too many scenarios slammed against Daniel’s brain. Gramps’s confused mind could be the cause, but would those who wanted him dead take advantage of the situation?

  Gramps was in excellent physical health. Another concern was how far he’d walk. After calming Gran, he checked with one of the officers searching the area.

  “Do you have any idea where your grandfather could have gone?”

  “There’s a Starbucks less than a mile from where the path empties onto Memorial. In the same shopping strip is a yogurt shop.”

  “What about the bus stop?”

  “Never gave that a thought.” Daniel had a good idea where Gramps had gone. “How close are you to Memorial Trace Cemetery?”

  “On my way,” the officer said. “You’re on your beat?”

  “Right. You’ll get there long before I do. My dad’s buried there on the southwest side—James Earl Hilton.”

  Daniel’s next call was to Marsha Leonard in case Gramps had taken the bus to Silver Hospitality. Nothing there.

  When his phone rang, he answered it without recognizing the caller.

  “Daniel, this is Morton Wilmington. Have you found your grandfather?”

  Did anything get by this man? “I have an idea. HPD’s on it.”

  “I’m concerned he could get nabbed.”

  “By the scammer who wants to collect on his life insurance?”

  “Let’s hope not. I’m thinking you should be aware of what’s going on with the investigation. You’ve got big stakes in this, and I need a man I can trust.”

  But whose side was Wilmington on? “Talk to me when my grandfather’s found.” Daniel ended the call. Wilmington might trust Daniel, but that didn’t work both ways. Right now finding Gramps alive held his attention.

  His radio buzzed. “Officer Hilton, we’ve found your grandfather at Memorial Trace Cemetery. He’s shaken and bruised, but okay. I called an ambulance. Probably should have him checked out.”

  Thank You, Lord. “Were you able to find out what happened? Did he fall?”

  “He’s confused. All I’ve learned is a woman wanted him to get into her car, and he ran, hid behind tombstones. He claims the woman threatened Abby if he didn’t go with her. We pulled up as a woman drove away.”

  “Did you see what she was driving?”

  “A pickup. We didn’t get the license plate number.”

  “Have the ambulance take him to the Methodist Hospital. I’ll meet you there.”

  Daniel let Gran know what was happening while speeding to check on Gramps. “Have Pete bring you to the hospital.”

  He wanted to know about the woman who approached Gramps, and he was ready to get on the inside with this scam. Frightening an old man and threatening an old woman hit his fury button.

  CHAPTER 28

  8:00 P.M. SATURDAY

  Daniel hesitated leaving his grandparents tonight. Gramps had suffered a few bruises, and his mind hadn’t surfaced to the present. Gran wouldn’t take her eyes off him. Two police officers were on duty per shift this weekend as well as two nurses. The back gate had a new lock, and only Gran and Daniel knew the key’s hiding place. They’d be fine. Had to trust God with all this.

  The one positive for his grandparents was their deaths would have to look natural. He didn’t want to think about Gramps getting into the woman’s car at the cemetery.

  “Go home and get some rest,” Gran said. “We’re good, and I have my S&W with me all the time.”

  “I’ll record tomorrow’s church service. Have an errand to run in the morning, so it will be midafternoon before I arrive. I’ll call on the hour once you’re up.”

  “Yes, Father Superior.”

  “Humor me. Makes me feel good.”

  Their doorbell rang. With the problem earlier today, Daniel wasn’t taking any chances. Picking up his gun from the kitchen table, he ventured into the foyer. The officers all used the side door, so who’d gotten past them tonight?

  Morton Wilmington, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. Light-brown hair touched his collar. Hands in front of him.

  Daniel snapped on the porch light and opened the door. An officer waved from his car at the curb. Obviously he didn’t think the man before him posed a threat. They’d have a talk later.

  Wilmington stuck out his hand. “Daniel, I realize today’s been hectic, but I’d like a word with you.”

  Daniel eyed him. Not a trace of malice on the man’s face,
but charm and charisma often masked motive. Maybe Wilmington had no conscience. Daniel shook his hand and checked for any padded pockets indicating a weapon. “Are you packing?”

  “It’s in my car. Illegal, but some habits are hard to break.”

  Was this a twist of honesty? “You know I could arrest you for that.”

  Wilmington chuckled. “But you won’t because I’m working to help end the elderly scam.”

  Irritation dug into him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Wilmington?”

  “I’d like to talk to you privately.”

  “More of our conversation today?”

  He nodded.

  “Is Laurel aware of this visit?”

  “No.” Wilmington’s voice deepened. “She’s familiar with my unpredictable behavior.”

  Great. A dose of baseless jealousy poured through him. Laurel hadn’t chosen Wilmington—her undercover work made the alliance. “Okay. We can do this outside.”

  “Can’t blame you. My reputation precedes me.”

  Daniel joined him on the front porch, and they sat in a pair of rockers.

  “Real comfortable. Homey.” Wilmington looked relaxed, as if he belonged there. “Beautiful home. Looks like your grandparents have an acre here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Nice night.”

  “For what?”

  Wilmington chuckled. “Suspicious, aren’t you?”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “Not at all.”

  First forthright thing he’d heard since Wilmington arrived. “I’d like to know who’s behind the elderly scam.”

  “You could have offered me an iced tea.”

  “My grandmother’s better at hospitality.”

  “I see.” He rocked a few more seconds. “You’ve figured out that Laurel and I are working undercover in the scam case.”

  Confirmation. “Thought so. Not sure it’s believable.”

  “It will be after tomorrow night.”

  “A name?”

  Wilmington glanced into the night. “I prayed about this. Sure hope I heard right.”

  Faith had to be shown, not spoken like a cliché. “I’m listening.”