by DiAnn Mills
9:00 P.M. SUNDAY
Abby checked her watch again. Why hadn’t Daniel returned her calls? It took her and Earl nearly twenty minutes to get to the Cafe Express at Uptown Park. Earl needed to make a pit stop. She’d done her best to rush him, but she couldn’t fight nature. They sure had waited a long time. Maybe Daniel had given up and gone elsewhere for help. She fretted about the danger. If Earl hadn’t threatened to leave without her, she would’ve made a few more calls. Worrying was like sitting in a rocking chair—all that work and no progress.
“Abby, we’ve been here a long time. Where do you suppose Jimmy went?”
“Honey, it’s Daniel.”
A car pulled up beside them on the passenger side, too close for her liking. She didn’t want a single scrape on her Lexus. A man got out. He wore one of those nasty hoodies. He glared into Earl’s open window.
She pushed the button to turn the car on, but the man slammed the barrel of a Sig into Earl’s face.
“Don’t say a word,” he said softly. “Both of you get out of your car and into my backseat.”
“Why?” Abby reached into her purse at her feet.
“Daniel has a surprise for you.”
“How nice of him. And who are you?” Abby had encountered scary animals, those who thought she’d be their next meal. But they hadn’t succeeded. And the steroid-using beast who had a gun on Earl wouldn’t either.
“Doesn’t matter, lady. Now get out before I pull the trigger.”
“Where are we going? Someplace to collect on our life insurance policies?”
“Smart lady. Now.”
“Of course. Earl, do as the man says.” She slipped her gun to her side, opened the door, and stepped out. A light pole to the right gave her a better view of the kidnapper. She calculated the slight breeze. “Honey, you’ll need your cane from the backseat.”
When Earl took a step, she fired, sending the man flat against his car and sliding to the pavement.
“Abby, what did you do? Are you okay?”
“Hope he made his peace with God before I killed him.” She trembled and drew in a breath to keep from passing out.
“What now?”
“I’m calling Daniel. If he doesn’t answer this time, I’ll contact Laurel.”
CHAPTER 54
9:15 P.M. SUNDAY
Tired but wired with an excess of adrenaline, Daniel waited for the waterway taxi to bring all of them to a stopping point.
“Hey, amigos,” Wilmington said. “When this is over, I’m flipping for the best steak in town.”
Daniel just wanted it to be over. “Until then—” His burner phone buzzed. Gran. He checked his watch, a bit past her normal bedtime. He saw she’d called earlier multiple times, but he’d set the phone on mute during the FBI meeting. Before then, it had been charging.
“Daniel?” Gran’s high-pitched tone held her panic.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve done something awful.”
Daniel slid into mental alert. “Talk to me, Gran.”
“Morton Wilmington called while I was in the shower. Earl answered. Mr. Wilmington said you were sick and needed us to pick you up at the Cafe Express in Uptown Park. We drove there but couldn’t find you, and we’ve been waiting in the parking lot.”
He flashed a look at Wilmington. “Why would I have him call you? Where is your bodyguard?” He attempted to shake off his emotions.
“He went to pick up his dinner and dessert for us, but I left a note for him to call you. Later I realized we’d been set up.”
Daniel swallowed. They were in horrible danger. “Who’s driving?”
“I was. But now we’re parked. I haven’t called the police yet.” She sobbed. “Daniel, I killed a man.”
“You hit him? What?”
“I shot him in the head. He tried to kidnap us.”
Daniel sensed the blood draining from his face. He caught Laurel’s attention. “You said the Cafe Express near Uptown Park? Stay put. I’ll be on my way soon.”
Laurel moved closer.
“I see a young couple walking our way. They shouldn’t see the dead man, right?”
“Ask them to step back. Tell them it’s a crime scene.”
“Excuse me,” Gran called out. “Please, stay back. This is a crime scene.” She sighed. “Earl, honey, would you get the afghan out of the backseat and cover that poor man.”
“Good job, Gran. Take a few deep breaths,” Daniel said. “How’s your heart?”
“I guess I’m okay. Can’t believe I killed him. But he had a gun pointed at Earl.”
“Are either of you hurt?”
“No.”
“You killed a man in self-defense. I’ll make the necessary calls to the authorities. Don’t talk to anyone.” He grabbed a slip of paper from his pocket and jotted down their license plate number, handing it to Laurel. “I’m switching you to speaker until I get there. Police officers will arrive before I do. Give them your phone and I’ll talk to them. Meanwhile, you’re going to hear everything I say to those around me, but I want to stay connected.”
“Yes. I won’t lose you,” she said.
He wasn’t losing them, either, not to a killer or anyone who tried to harm them. “Gran, I don’t look like myself. Alert Gramps if necessary.”
Wilmington placed his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Did I hear right?” he whispered.
Daniel nodded. “SSA Preston, I just received an emergency call from my grandmother. Someone tried to nab them, and she shot him. Can we speed this thing up?”
“Thatcher,” Preston said. “You heard Officer Hilton. Get a move on.”
Daniel groaned. “I don’t have a car.”
“Take mine,” Laurel said. “It’s parked at Barnes & Noble. I’d like to ride along.”
“Sure. I could use the company.” The waterway taxi bumped to a docking point, and those on board stepped off.
“Call me when you can,” Wilmington said as Daniel and Laurel raced toward the parking lot.
“I’ll drive him home,” Thatcher said.
What they’d feared about his grandparents was unfolding. No one had been able to stop the scamming and deaths. Not agents in five different states or police departments or one ex-con who claimed to be a good guy.
When they neared Laurel’s vehicle, she unlocked it and tossed Daniel the keys before swinging around to the passenger side. Within moments, Daniel sped onto I-45 south and around the 610 loop to the Uptown Park shopping area on Post Oak near the Galleria. Traffic seemed thicker than usual for this time of night. A possible accident ahead. Not exactly conducive to speeding to a crime scene.
“Gran, I’m going to put my phone on mute so I can hear what’s going on there with you. I’ll pick up if you need me.” He pushed Mute and set the phone on the console.
“Is the FBI on their way?” he said to Laurel.
“Yes. I’m sure someone has called HPD by now.”
“Right.” Daniel’s mind zipped to his grandparents. “I used to laugh at my eccentric gran, the way she still goes to the shooting range. Her past escapades with her love of the outdoors. Her speeding tickets. But if she hadn’t been packing and or didn’t knew how to use it, she and Gramps might be dead.”
“She’s one special lady.”
“Definitely. Gran hasn’t driven at night in a couple of years. Poor night vision. I’m rambling. Need to get my investigative head on.” He reached for her hand. “I feel better with you beside me.”
“I’ve never left.”
He smiled and pulled his phone from the console and unmuted it. “Talk to me, Gran.” He heard sirens and recalled the last time he talked to her while waiting for an ambulance to help Pete.
“I’m praying to keep from hysterics. Earl is doing okay. The shot seemed to pull his mind to the present. He’s blocking the view of the body. Oh, I told him not to say a word about how you look.”
“Good. Tell him thanks.” He swerved into the rightmost lane and
then back to the left, leaving a car horn blaring in their wake.
“Daniel, get your foot off the gas. I know you.”
The thought made him smile. “I can handle it. Remember to give the phone to the police officer and don’t say a word about what happened.”
Laurel’s fingers entwined with his, and he lightly squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here.”
“We’re in this together.”
“You are the perfect woman. Gramps pointed that out the first time we met.”
“He’s quite the charmer. I saw your grandparents’ wedding photo. He was a handsome man, and your grandmother looked like she walked off a magazine cover.”
“They are amazing.”
“Your grandmother is one of a kind.”
“What does that mean?” Gran’s voice came through, and Daniel realized he hadn’t muted the phone again.
“That you’d be perfect backup—physically, mentally, or spiritually,” Laurel said.
“Laurel, you’re sweet, and you know I need to hear good things so I don’t fall apart.”
“Daniel, this is me.” Gramps had obviously taken possession of the phone. “I’ve got this. I’ve been taking care of Abby for a long time.”
“Thanks.” Daniel heard shuffling.
“Oh, Daniel.” Gran was back. “The police are here.”
A moment later a voice spoke into Daniel’s phone. “Yes, sir,” a man said.
“I’m Officer Daniel Hilton and I’m en route to the crime scene. Ten minutes out. The FBI is also on their way.”
“Is this their case?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been assisting them. I’ll explain when I get there. The couple with you are my grandparents. The dead man attempted to kill them.”
“I’ll keep the scene secured, sir.”
The officer returned the phone to Gran. “I’m hanging up now. With HPD here, I’ll be fine until you arrive.”
He disconnected the call and reached for Laurel’s hand again. Her silent support meant more than any words could convey. Breathing deeply, he grasped the wonder of the rest of their lives filled with this mental intimacy.
“I’m banking on the dead man opening up the case,” Laurel said. “But if he’s not Geoff Cayden, then who? Vega?”
Her burner rang. “It’s Wilmington. Should I take it and spoil our time together?”
“This isn’t exactly a date. Better see what he wants.”
She pushed the Speaker button. “Yes.”
“Are you at the crime scene?”
“Not yet. HPD is with Daniel’s grandparents.”
“Tell him I’m praying for them.”
“He’s listening.”
“Great. Be strong, Daniel. Although tonight has been tragic, we could get solid answers.”
“Hope so,” he said. “Did Thatcher drive you home?”
“Sure did. Haven’t been interrogated like that in years.”
The call ended and Daniel shook his head. “If I find out Wilmington ordered this, keep me away from him.”
“Calm down, Daniel. We’ll have answers soon enough. What’s the plan?”
“Until arrests are made, I’m sticking my grandparents someplace where only the FBI and I know where they are. New identities. All of it.”
“A safe house in a rural area fits the bill.”
Laurel’s cell phone alerted her to another call. “This time it’s Thatcher.”
“Keep it on speaker.”
“Laurel, we’ll be at the crime scene in fifteen. I understand the officer who arrived first has called an ambulance for Mrs. Hilton.”
Daniel’s senses raced on alert. “She didn’t say a word about being hurt.”
“The officer stated the injury isn’t too bad. Her shoulder is either dislocated or broken. Looks like she slipped moving around the car after the shooting. Why don’t you head on over to Memorial Hospital. I’ll meet you there. I’ll make sure your grandfather rides in the ambulance.”
“Good. Do you have an ID on the dead man?” Daniel said.
“Jack Breacher, and he failed his mission. Last known employer is Morton Wilmington. He claims the man was fired months ago. Makes our ex-con look real guilty.”
CHAPTER 55
12:17 A.M. MONDAY
THREE DAYS UNTIL OCTOBER 15
Daniel stayed with his grandparents at the hospital until Gran’s minor cuts and bruises were treated, medical tests completed, and her dislocated shoulder placed in a sling. Gramps’s mind had drifted in and out—perhaps oblivion was a better option than what they’d been through.
“Are you sure you don’t hurt anywhere else?” Daniel noted a purplish-black bruise that extended from her right eye to her hairline.
“I’m good. Just embarrassed I fell.”
Daniel wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Gran, your quick thinking saved your and Gramps’s lives.”
“Are you talking about my Abby?” Gramps said. “She’s the most courageous, smartest woman in the world.”
She kissed his whiskered cheek. “I wasn’t very smart today, and I owe so many people an apology. Gullible and clumsy. What a combo.”
“The caller knew how to persuade me.” Earl humphed. “I actually believed him.”
“The officer shouldn’t have left you unprotected.” Daniel didn’t have the heart to state their bodyguard had been found unconscious in the elevator. Not sure why his grandparents weren’t attacked in their hotel room, except it increased the likelihood of their deaths looking like murder instead of staging an accident. Gran and Gramps had used a back exit, and not even Wilmington’s man had seen them leave.
“Don’t blame him,” Abby said. “If I hadn’t asked for a hot chocolate dessert for all of us, he wouldn’t have left us alone.”
“I’m ready to get back to the hotel and climb into bed.” Gramps’s mind seemed to have returned to the present. “Going to tuck my girl in and let her sleep off this nightmare.”
Daniel drew in a breath. “The FBI has suggested other arrangements. A nurse will escort you one at a time through the emergency exit. Two separate cars will transport you to Hobby Airport, where a private plane will fly you to a safe destination.”
“You’re not going with us?” Gran’s eyes brimmed with tears.
He lifted her chin with his finger. “I’m going to help end this elderly scam. With you and Gramps in a safe house and FBI agents to protect you, I’m free to do whatever needs to be done. As soon as it’s over, I’ll be right there to bring you home.”
“How long do you think it’ll take, Jimmy?” Gramps said.
Daniel sighed. “Less than a week. We’re close.”
Gran’s lips quivered. “You and Earl are my life. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I’ll do my best. You’re my hero, Gran. Don’t forget it.”
He carefully embraced her, then gave Gramps a hug. They said their good-byes inside the hospital ER and exited according to the FBI’s plan. Daniel and Laurel made their way to the parking lot.
“Where’s your car?”
“At Wilmington’s. Actually I’d like my truck. I want to stop by my house.”
“Is your truck at the FBI office?”
“No, at a storage facility.” He glanced around. “Can’t tell if we’re being followed. I think we’ll pay Starbucks on Memorial a visit.”
“Have you detected a tail?”
“No, just cautious. Once we’re finished at Starbucks, I’ll head for a parking garage across the street from the storage facility. You can have your little car back, and I’ll retrieve my truck.” Exhaustion fell on him like a dark fog, but he wanted to pick up his mail and check on his house.
After securing his truck and driving toward home, he attempted to make sense of what was happening. Wilmington stated Jack Breacher no longer worked for him. Was that the truth?
Another current of trouble flooded him. The figures from reported fraudulent services and products had escalated to
several million dollars, and the estimated payout money on the life insurance policies amounted to millions. If Cayden panicked, he could take the money and run. Or would his arrogance keep him fixed on the fund-raiser? Something nudged at Daniel about the case, and he didn’t think it was Wilmington double-crossing them.
Right now his thoughts jumbled together. In the darkness, the closer Daniel drove to home, the better his own bed looked. Pain anchored itself at the base of his skull, nothing a good night’s rest wouldn’t cure. He entered his subdivision to the whine of sirens and fire trucks whizzing by him. Normally curiosity would entice him to follow, but not tonight. He drove on, annoyed the emergency vehicles were in his way.
Smoke rose in the distance.
Too close to his brick, one-story home.
His headache grew worse.
The fire truck slowed a half block from his house. Daniel peered around it, praying it wasn’t his house on fire. He gasped. Flames bellowed from the front windows of his ranch home. Firemen poured blasts of water through the windows.
Daniel gripped the steering wheel. How far would Cayden and his people go?
He parked his pickup and ran. Rage twisted inside him, kindling his own fire.
“Sir, stay clear of the area,” a firefighter said.
“It’s my house!”
“I’m sorry. But for your safety, please keep your distance.”
Daniel refused to slow his pace. “Try to stop me.”
“You’ll get hurt.” The firefighter stood in his path.
Daniel grasped his reasoning. What more could he do than the firefighters? “Do you know what caused it?”
“Found an empty gasoline can on the driveway.”
“Arson,” Daniel said, confirming what he expected. He stared at the white paint splotches on the end of his home opposite the blaze. In the darkness he couldn’t quite make out the graffiti and walked closer.
“Sir. Please step back.”
Two words clawed at his gut: Loser Cop.
CHAPTER 56
6:30 A.M. MONDAY
Laurel had been too tired to sleep well last night. She poured a glass of orange juice and popped an English muffin into the toaster. Snatching her cell phone, she scrolled through what had gone on while she slept. A headline captured her attention. An HPD police officer’s home in the Memorial area had been set on fire. “Officer Daniel Hilton . . .”
