by Julie Miller
The black man tipped his head back and looked at Eli for the first time. For a moment, the blank eyes focused. Then he turned away, took a step back and pointed to a dot. “Six hundred and two.”
“Where’s two hundred?”
Gibbs went back to the opposite side of the door and put his finger on a different tile. “Two hundred, two hundred one…”
“Are we playing games now, Detective?” Kline asked.
Dwight Powers leaned forward with interest.
“Show me nine hundred, Donnell.”
The black man shook his head. “Haven’t got there yet.”
Eli named two more numbers. Gibbs moved from dot to dot. He could tell Eli what he ate for dinner last night and the name of his first-grade teacher. He knew the Royals had won the ’85 World Series.
“What did you call that little girl when you had her at your house? Baby? Sweetie? Honey?”
Gibbs hesitated. Eli watched his eyes move like a man searching for answers. “I took her from the sandbox.”
“Why didn’t you assault her? Didn’t you like her?”
“Pretty brown eyes. Pretty dress.”
“What was her mother’s name?” Gibbs was getting agitated. “What was the little girl’s name?”
Audrey Kline jumped to her feet in defense of her client. “He claims it was a random act. He doesn’t know!”
Eli nodded. He let Donnell go back to counting and returned to the table. Random, hell. “He doesn’t know.”
Yours Truly just might be right in his claim about Gibbs’s innocence. And if that was the case, then what else did YT already know about Baby Jane’s murder? And how far would he go to make Shauna pay for the mistakes of KCPD’s botched investigation?
Later, as Eli was re-holstering his gun outside the security gates, Dwight Powers asked, “So, you want to explain to me what we accomplished back there? Besides giving my opponent grounds for an insanity plea for her client?”
“Donnell Gibbs isn’t insane. But I do think you have the wrong man.”
“You know I don’t want to hear that. We’re up for allocution and sentencing in a week. Is your gut telling you something?”
Forget his gut, other than the fact it was beginning to twist with worry about a tough-minded, but all-too-vulnerable blonde he knew. “It’s the facts, Dwight.”
“What facts?”
Eli checked his watch. He needed to get down to Union Station to keep an eye on Shauna and her lunch date. And make sure no one else was keeping an eye on her. “Gibbs’s memory works just fine. Hell, he remembers every damn dot in that room. The details of his story never change. Not from the initial task force interviews, not today. He uses the same words. He never expands, never corrects himself. He should be able to tell us Jane Doe’s name and more.”
Instead of feeling victorious, the certainty of that statement left him uneasy. If Donnell Gibbs didn’t know the details of the crime he’d allegedly committed, who did? Yours Truly? Someone else?
“It’s like someone gave him a script about the murder to memorize. He knows every line, but he can’t ad lib. He doesn’t know anything beyond what’s written on the page.”
Point taken. Eli’s suspicions could blow the prosecution’s case. Gibbs could walk free. Maybe some vigilante would murder him under the excuse of protecting his or her child. The city would plunge into another panic.
But unlike his former partner, not every man put his own success above the truth. To Eli’s surprise, Dwight fell into step beside him as he headed toward the lobby and the street outside. “So who gave him the script?”
Chapter Seven
Shauna scanned the vast expanse of Union Station from her seat on the open second floor of the Union Café. Where was Eli? Behind one of the wrought-iron galleries above her? Mingling with the tourists at the information kiosk? Watching her through the windows of the train museum or following the groups of school children beneath the giant clock that marked their way to the science center?
She was certain that she’d be able to sense his presence—just as certain as she’d been that he’d keep his promise to watch over her when she was away from KCPD headquarters and their built-in security. But nothing. No shiver of awareness. No tingle of anticipation at the thought of sitting in a public place while that mysterious, unspoken link connected them.
Either he was as good at blending in with the tourists and locals as he’d claimed, or she was alone.
And though that meant she had no sense of Yours Truly in the building watching her, either, she felt a stab of disappointment.
Dangerous as it was to feel any sort of attachment to the man, Eli made her feel safe. He made her feel alive with his challenging words and potent stares. Knowing he was in a room, in a building—inside a sprawling complex like Union Station—with her took away the chill of isolation that she’d grown too accustomed to living with.
Of course, she wasn’t truly alone. She sat across the table from her ex-husband. But Shauna was more attuned to her surroundings, trying to sense Eli—or him— than she was to Austin’s animated sales pitch. Besides, she’d heard all the lines before.
“The Riverboat is going to be a great casino, Shauna.” Austin had dressed in a business suit for his presentation today, pouring on the gentlemanly charm and boyish enthusiasm that she’d once been so attracted to. “Sure, when it’s finished, it’ll be smaller than those big chain casinos on the river. But this one captures the flavor of Kansas City—the history, the jazz—”
“The slot machines.”
Austin’s laugh seemed forced. Or maybe it was just her own interest in the sales pitch that had to be forced. He signaled the waiter to clear their plates and bring some coffee before continuing. “The Riverboat will contain every modern amenity that the larger gaming establishments have, but the ambiance will be warmer, friendlier. The players and guests will feel like they’re stepping back in time when they walk onto that boat. They’ll feel at home. It’ll be great for business.”
A familiar dread blossomed in the pit of her stomach, drawing her fully into the conversation. “Austin, for someone like you, I don’t think feeling ‘at home’ in a place where you could lose so much money is a good thing.”
Did he just roll his eyes? “Like I tried to tell you last night—I wouldn’t be managing the games, or even working with them. They want me to oversee the redesign. We’ve purchased an old steel-hulled steamboat. They want my expertise to refit it to its original grandeur, and then design the new additions in the same plush retro style.”
Interesting as the project seemed, as perfect as such a challenge would have been for the young architect she’d first married, Shauna couldn’t see anything good coming of Austin’s involvement now. She told him as much.
Austin held on to the edge of the table and bristled. “They’ve already hired me to do the prelim designs. I’ve worked with the engineers to bring the project up to code. But when the design work is done, I can make my association permanent if I invest as part of the management.”
“Look, I think the remodeling is a wonderful opportunity for you to get back into the field you love.” Shauna had no problem encouraging him to work. “But once the job is done, I think you should take your paycheck and move on to the next project.”
“The port authority has already approved the location and construction permits, the gaming commission has given us a license. It’d be nice if we had the support of KCPD behind us, too. We’re not even open for business yet and your people are already giving the lawyers grief over parking and traffic and our patron security plan.”
It was Shauna’s turn to bristle. “My people? You’re looking for KCPD approval? I thought this was a personal request for cash. Or did these lawyers already promise you something if you capitalized on your relationship to me? And just who is we, anyway?”
“Damn, woman. I liked you better before you became a cop. At least you’d listen back then.”
“And I liked you bet
ter before you put yourself and the next big deal before your family.” Shauna covered her cup when the waiter returned, and she asked for the bill. This meeting needed to be over. “Are you going to answer my questions?”
“All right, Commissioner.” Austin twirled the title around his tongue as if he found it distasteful. “A foreign investor is putting up fifty-one percent of the front money. They’re shopping around for local investors, but those of us already involved in the project get the first shot at ownership shares.”
Foreign investor? As in out of country? Out of state? Out of county? Was that a code name for illegal? KCPD had long had its suspicions, if not concrete proof, about organized crime getting involved with the arrival and expansion of legalized gambling on the river. Thus far, with constant scrutiny, businesses on the waterfront had kept it clean. The unfortunate crimes associated with the casinos thus far had been isolated, random events. Hadn’t they?
“Even Seth thinks the Riverboat is a good deal.”
Seth. Undercover at the casinos. Shauna tensed, switching from cop back to mom in a heartbeat. “You asked him for money?”
“I got a look at the new hires. He’ll be working as a bouncer in one of the bars there. I guess the city doesn’t pay him enough, so he’s moonlighting.”
Was that what Seth was working on? Investigating a new lead? Starting an on-site observation unit? Forgetting her aversion to his tactics, Shauna reached across the table and grabbed Austin’s hand. “Did you tell anyone at the Riverboat that Seth is a cop?”
“He told them, honey. Relax. I imagine they think his background will make him pretty effective at keeping the peace there.” Austin turned his hand to squeeze hers. “Hey, if I had a reason to be there full-time after the casino opens, I could keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays out of trouble. Maybe reconnect with my son and become friends again.”
You selfish son of a bitch.
No matter what she’d learned about an addiction like gambling being an illness, she couldn’t dredge up any sympathy for a man who would use his own son as a bargaining chip to get what he wanted. Shauna set her money on the table and got up. “Austin—gambling destroyed my life once. And in case you’ve forgotten, it destroyed yours, too. So forgive me if I withhold my money and the blessing of KCPD.”
“Shauna…” Austin stood and tried to give her money back. “I said lunch was on me.” He glared at the curious couple at the next table. “What are you lookin’ at?” They turned their eyes back to their food and Austin turned his frustration on her. “Sit down and let’s finish this conversation.”
“The conversation is finished. We are finished. Don’t ask me for this kind of help again.”
“Shauna, c’mon.”
She ignored the pleading, the outstretched hand, the crude curse, and wove her way through the tables toward the circular stairs that led down to the station’s main floor.
But she hesitated at the top of the stairs as a shadow of unease rippled down her spine. This chill was different from her anger at Austin, or her fear for Seth—and it was getting to be far too familiar.
He was here. Watching.
“Where are you?” She mouthed the words on a hiss of breath.
Turning around, she made no effort to hide her scan of every table. She even looked at Austin, sulking in his chair, absorbed in a conversation on his cell now. Everyone she could see seemed to have a purpose. But he was here. Her snippy confrontation with Austin had caught his attention.
A man wearing mirrored sunglasses entered the station through the brass doors below her and Shauna recoiled. Had Richard Powell been released from his armed guard at the hospital? Of course, not. This guy didn’t even have a limp. The man peeled off his sunglasses and greeted a young woman. Hand in hand, they headed for the fast food court at the east end of the station.
Not Powell. No gun. No threat. But the feeling was still there.
I’m coming for you.
Shauna clutched the railing behind her in a white-knuckled grip as the memory of a robot-like voice replayed last night’s warning inside her head. Save your strength, Ms. Cartwright. If not for tomorrow, then the next day. Or the day after that. I’m coming for you. Justice…will be served.
The air congealed in her lungs. She forced herself to exhale, then breathe again. She would not let him get to her like this.
“Show your face, you coward.”
“Ma’am?” The middle-aged black man who’d been their waiter touched her arm and Shauna jumped like a rocket. He quickly pulled his hand away. “Sorry to startle you. Are you all right? Was there a problem with your lunch?”
“No.” No problem but the company. Pressing a hand over her racing heart, Shauna summoned a smile and apologized. “Everything was fine, thank you. I left a tip on the table—if my ex hasn’t already pocketed it.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Have a good day.” He smiled and jogged down the stairs ahead of her.
Her smile crooked with genuine wry amusement. The waiter must be independently wealthy and didn’t need the three bucks she’d left him. Maybe he just wanted to keep his distance from mentally unhinged customers who argued in public and cowered on the stairs. Or maybe, like her, the man had work to do.
“Get it together, Shauna.” Steeling herself against the invisible enemy, she raised her chin and descended the stairs.
Her job was to coordinate investigations, communicate with the public and facilitate the needs of her officers and staff. She wanted to find out just what the vice squad or Mitch Taylor and his detectives suspected was going on at the Riverboat casino—and what role her son was playing in their investigation.
And that was just this afternoon’s to-do list.
She didn’t have the luxury of giving in to the paranoia that followed her like her own shadow.
HEY, boss lady.
A set of eyes, distinctly warm and more forward than they should be, snagged Shauna’s attention at the base of the restaurant stairs.
Breathing an embarrassing sigh of relief, she nearly stumbled to a halt as she spotted Eli at a table near the restaurant’s entrance gate. Or rather, she realized that he’d already spotted her. The familiar dark head, with that spike of hair out of place on his forehead, was bent toward the newspaper he pretended to read.
All the bustle of the open-air restaurant, all the voices and laughter, footsteps and music, echoing through the cavernous station shrank down to the intensity of that golden gaze locked onto hers.
Eli was here. Maybe he’d been here the entire time. The knowledge that he’d kept his promise after all was a foolish, heady thing. Her pulse leaped, her breath caught. Her heart flip-flopped with a crazy mix of relief and anticipation.
The world flashed by in a blur and she forced her legs to move forward. She couldn’t go to him in public, couldn’t join him at his table or take his hand or throw herself into his arms. The commissioner couldn’t beg a man who worked for her to kiss her again—couldn’t command him to make her feel safe, feel sexy—make her feel…period.
And yet, in the milliseconds that their eyes met, a dozen silent messages were exchanged. Questions were asked and answered. Support was given. There was a tease, a reprimand. And finally, there was a longing, an awareness that passed between them that neither space nor time could measure.
Did you find something?
Yes. Tell you later. Are you all right?
He’s here.
He won’t get to you. I’ve got your back.
You can’t follow me.
Try to stop me.
Eli…
I’ve got your back.
Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder to maintain that precious visual contact, Shauna hurried past Eli’s table. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she crossed the station to the escalator that would take her down to the parking lot behind Union Station.
Twin bullets of heat seared her backside, diffusing the lingering chill of Yours Truly’s malevolent gaze, and, even w
ithout turning around, she knew that Eli was following her. Hmm. Shauna dipped her chin and smiled to herself at her body’s physical reaction to mental impulses. Was it possible to blush back there? Wasn’t she too old to be feeling this naughty, girlish delight at a man’s interest in her?
Or was she just plain crazy to think Eli’s diehard need to protect meant something more personal charged the air between them?
Yes, yes and yes. As a mature woman—a woman with a badge—she would be wiser to concentrate more on protecting herself than developing any kind of dependency on her self-appointed guardian.
With her purse clutched firmly at her side, Shauna paused at the top of the escalator, scanning the people around her before walking onto the next moving step. Even with Eli around to provide backup, she didn’t want to be caught on the defensive by Austin or Yours Truly or anyone else in a place where escape would be difficult.
She rode down to the parking level, turned past a row of offices and headed for the exit. She skirted a line of students, fidgeting for their chaperone’s lecture on manners to end and their fun at Science City to begin. She held open the door for a deliveryman and his rolling cart and crossed the circular drive where school buses were loading a group of students from the early tour.
“Commissioner Cartwright!” Shauna jerked at the unexpected call, then groaned, recognizing the woman’s voice, knowing what those determined running footsteps behind her meant. Maybe if she just kept walking… “Commissioner!”
From the corner of her eye she saw Eli threading his way through the herd of fourth-graders to get to her. Shauna risked a glance and warned him back. This was an annoyance, not a threat that pursued her. She saw the shift of his weight—the urge to charge forward and take action warring with the wisdom of keeping his distance and maintaining protocol in public. He wasn’t breaking the rules by being here, but closer contact could be misconstrued as—
“Commissioner!”
Shauna released a steadying breath and fixed a serene smile on her face as a willowy young woman with a thick brunette ponytail and a notepad in her hand ran up beside her.
