Count to Ten (35 page)
Solliday grabbed her shoulders, twisting until she faced him. “Mia. Let Spinnelli take care of this.” She tried to pull away, but Solliday held firm.
Pain throbbed in her shoulder and she flinched. “You’re hurting me.”
Instantly he loosened his grip, but he didn’t let go. “Promise me you will not call Wheaton. You will not threaten her. You will let Spinnelli handle this. Promise me, Mia.”
She nodded. He was right. Suddenly too weary to fight it, she lowered her forehead to his chest and rested against him. His hands tightened then opened wide, hesitating before moving to her back and bringing her close.
“Somehow it’ll be all right,” he murmured into her hair.
She nodded, fighting the tears that rose in her throat. Cops didn’t cry. She should know. Bobby had told her so. Often. “They’ll kill her, Reed.” He said nothing, just held her until she felt control of her emotions return. She pulled away, calm now. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not,” he said quietly. “The last three weeks have been hell. You’ve held up better than anyone could have expected.” He tilted her face up. “Even you.”
His eyes were filled with both sympathy and respect and she took comfort from both. Then stepped away to find Aidan watching her and she felt her cheeks heat.
Wanting to shift the focus from what had obviously been a public embrace, she narrowed her eyes at Aidan. “You know, I think that Jacob Conti had a point after all.”
For a second Aidan’s eyes widened then he grinned before he could stop himself. He sobered himself, giving her a proper glare. “Mia Mitchell. You should be ashamed.”
Solliday looked confused. “Who is Jacob Conti?”
Mia sat down in her chair with the list of Atlantic City hotels. “Bad man. Very bad.” Conti was a very bad man who’d dealt his own brand of justice to a TV reporter who, through stirring things up to make news, put Conti’s son in the sights of a killer. Conti’s revenge for his son’s death had been effective and final. Unfortunately for him, illegal as well. Mia would have to take more conventional routes of revenge.
“Old case,” Aidan said. “Back when my sister-in-law Kristen was being stalked.”
Solliday sat down at his desk and tapped at the keyboard with his methodical pace. Then he looked up, eyes wide. “He
was
a bad man.”
He’d looked up the old case, then. “Told you.”
“And Reagan’s right. You should be ashamed.” But there was a sudden sparkle in his eye. “You are a very bad girl, Mia.”
She laughed softly, remembering the last time he’d said those same words. Then, the respite was gone, dread returning with a vengeance as she looked over at Spinnelli’s door. If Wheaton’s piece ran, Kelsey’s life would be in certain danger. But she’d let Spinnelli handle it. For now. “Let’s call these hotels, then call it a night.”
Thursday, November 30, 5:30 P.M.
The Doughertys’ big truck had finally pulled into the driveway at 993 Harmony Avenue. For a while he thought the girl at the hotel had lied. That would’ve been bad.
He’d been listening to the radio. Nobody reported Tania missing. And nobody had mentioned Niki Markov, the woman who should have been home with her two kids, but had instead had the bad luck to be sleeping in the Doughertys’ hotel bed. If women stayed where they were supposed to be, they wouldn’t get into such trouble. Now Niki -Markov was dead and buried, her own suitcases providing her final resting place. He grinned to himself.
Places,
that was. -Plural. The cops would never find all of her.
The Doughertys got out of the truck and headed straight around the back of the house, bags from JCPenney in their hands. They’d been shopping to replace clothes, most likely. Seeing as how all theirs were gone. Too bad they wouldn’t need them.
After he finished here tonight, he’d be done in Chicago. He’d drive south on his way to the last few names on his list. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He pulled the car from the curb knowing that when he returned it would be time to act. And old lady Dougherty’s time to finally die.
Thursday, November 30, 5:55 P.M.
“Mia, can you come here for a minute?” Spinnelli stood in his office doorway.
Throwing a worried look at Solliday and Aidan, she approached. “What?”
“Inside. Shut the door. Reporters are the lowest forms of life on the planet.”
Her heart sank. “They’re going to run the piece.” Her stomach followed. “Oh, Marc.”
“Relax. I talked to Wheaton. She insists the video you got was a mistake. She meant to send you a copy of the press conference as you’d obviously been watching someone in the crowd.” His lip curled in distaste. “She just wanted to help.”
“Marc,” she gritted through her teeth. “What about Kelsey?”
“I said relax. Wheaton hinted about an exclusive on this case. I turned her down flat and suggested that threatening a police officer was a felony. She got huffy and said there was no intended threat. The piece with your sister was scheduled to air Sunday night with or without any words from us. It was an ultimatum with a deadline.”
Her heart was hammering, but trust in Spinnelli kept her feet glued in place. “And?”
“I can’t stop her from airing that piece, Mia, but I’ll be damned if that...” He drew a breath, editing himself. “I called Patrick. He’s pulling some strings to have Kelsey moved to another facility tomorrow morning. She’ll be brought in under another name. It’ll be done very discreetly.” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s the best I can do.”
Mia swallowed hard, a wave of relief and gratitude overwhelming her. “A lot of people wouldn’t have done that much.”
“You’ve sacrificed for this department, this city countless times. I’ll be damned if I’ll let Wheaton or anybody else use this department to threaten you or your family.”
She closed her eyes, moved. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
His voice returned to its normal briskness. “Murphy’s still sweeping the area where they found the car White used to get away from Brooke Adler’s apartment, but he hasn’t turned anything up yet. They’ll keep canvassing for the next hour, then resume in the morning. I had math teacher White’s picture faxed to the local news teams and the newspapers. It’s the best way to find him.”
“I know.”
“You guys find the real White at any of those Atlantic City hotels?”
“Not yet. We’ll keep going until we do.”
Spinnelli tilted his head, studying her. “Where are you going to stay tonight?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?” He couldn’t possibly know about her and Solliday. The words “it was just a supportive hug” were on the tip of her tongue.
“Your address was in the paper, Mia. Find another place to live. That’s an order.”
“You can’t tell me where to live. Last I looked, I’m a cop. I can take care of myself.”
“Last I looked, you were a cop and I was your boss. Find another place, Mia. I don’t want to worry about you all night.” When her mouth set stubbornly, he exploded. “Goddammit, Mia. For days I sat next to Abe’s bedside wondering where the hell you were. I thought I might lose two of my best people. Don’t
put
me through that again.”
She looked down, feeling suddenly small. “Well, when you put it like that.”
He sighed. “It’s just for a little while. Howard and Brooks are close to pulling Getts in. They’ve closed off about all the rat holes he can crawl down.”
“He already knew my address.”
“True, but now every punk wannabe does, too. You worry about Kelsey on the inside. There are a lot more on the outside that would love bragging rights to you.”
“I have a gun. Kelsey doesn’t.”
“And you both have to sleep sometime.”
She ran her tongue across her teeth. “I don’t want to admit that you have a point. But,” she hurried on before he could say more, “who would you have me put in -danger? Dana? She’s got kids. Abe? He’s got Kristen and the baby.”
Spinnelli’s door opened and Solliday filled the doorway. “She can stay at my house.”
Mia’s mouth dropped open.
“What?”
Spinnelli just blinked. “What?”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “It makes sense. I’ve got a duplex. My sister rents the other side. Lauren’s on my side taking care of my daughter more than she’s on her own side, anyway. Detective Mitchell can stay in the other side, have her own place.”
Mia found her voice. “You were
spying
on me.
Again.
”
He shrugged. “I was waiting to talk to Spinnelli. It’s not my fault I have good ears.”
She glared at him. “I’m
not
staying with you.”
“Not me.” He smiled innocently. “At Lauren’s. It makes sense, Mia. And we can keep going through Burnette’s and Hill’s files after dinner. That should speed things up.”
She just bet it would. The very thought of what would speed up sent new color to her cheeks. And Solliday just stood there, smiling like a damn choirboy.
But if Spinnelli had any inkling of Solliday’s ulterior motives, he gave no indication. “It does make sense, Mia. And you never have time to study those files during the day.”
She drew a breath. “I want to formally state my opposition to this stupid plan.”
Spinnelli nodded. “Formally noted. Do it anyway.”
“What about Solliday’s kid? I’m putting her in danger, too. They’ll follow me.”
“Mia, if you can’t lose a tail by now...” Spinnelli gently pushed her out the door. “Finish calling hotels, then break for dinner. After you eat, you can get back to the files.”
“Aren’t you kind?”
His mustache bunched and his eyes darkened, a sure sign his patience was spent. “We have to get a connection between White, Burnette, and Hill or we have nothing more than circumstantial evidence. We can’t place him at any of the three scenes, so we have to at least have a strong motive. Find one. Stop worrying about your apartment and concentrate on what matters. Find White before he kills again.”
She knew when she was beaten. “All right. You’ll make sure they move Kelsey.”
“You have my word.”
“Fine. Then I’ll stay on Lauren’s side of the duplex.”
Spinnelli’s chest moved in a small sigh of relief. “Thank you. And thanks to you also, Reed,” Spinnelli said. “I appreciate you offering up the house.”
Mia looked at Solliday, her jaw cocked. “Yeah. Thanks a lot, Solliday.”
Something flickered in Solliday’s dark eyes and she knew he knew she was pissed. “You’re welcome,” he told Spinnelli. Then he muttered under his breath, “I think.”
Thursday, November 30, 6:15 P.M.
He’d nearly finished his dinner when the face on the TV screen threatened to bring it all back up. The face was his. In horror his eyes froze to the screen. He knew they’d be looking for him. Somehow he never thought they’d put his face on TV.
As he fought to control his shock, his temper began to boil. The bitch. This was the work of the Mitchell woman. Now he couldn’t move around the city without people knowing who he was. Today it was Chicago. Tomorrow, CNN? He’d be recognized wherever he went from sea to goddamn shining sea.
He had to get out of this restaurant.
Now.
With a casualness that came only through superior self-control, he rose, threw the contents of his tray in the trash, strolled through the restaurant door and to his car.
She had to go. He patted his pocket where he still carried pretty Caitlin’s gun. Mitchell had to go. With her gone, the focus would be shifted to the gunman who’d tried to kill her once before. Melvin Getts was his name. It would be Getts’s face on the news.
A cop killer trumped an arsonist any damn day of the week.
Thursday, November 30, 6:45 P.M.
R
eed hung up the phone. “Found him.”
Both Mia and Aidan quickly hung up. “Where?” Mia demanded.
“The Willow Inn in Atlantic City. Their computer shows Devin White checked in on June first and checked out June third. Paid cash. Guy at the desk didn’t remember him.”
“We don’t know if it was the real Devin or Math Boy,” Mia said. “Now we know where he stayed, but we still don't know which casino he went to. So many people go through the casinos. It’s hard to think anybody would remember a college kid.”
“But all the casinos have cameras,” Reed said. “We know the days he was there. We should be able to find him on video. At least to know if it’s Devin White or...” He winced a little. “Or Math Boy. Can’t we find a different pet name for him?”
“It works for now.” She frowned. “There are a dozen casinos. Where do we start?”
“You familiar with Atlantic City?” Aidan asked.
“Never been there,” Reed answered and Mia shook her head as well.
“Tess and I went to the Jersey shore on our honeymoon just a few weeks ago. One of the days we drove to -Atlantic City and did some of the casinos, so it’s still fresh in my mind.” Aidan brought a map to their desks and the three of them stood, studying it. “Willow Inn is down here, close to the Silver Casino. Harrah’s and Trump’s Marina are way up here and all the other big casinos are way over here, on the beach.”
“He probably went to the Silver Casino at least once or twice since it was close,” Mia said.
“And it’s one of the smaller casinos, so it should be easier for them to locate him.”
Reed looked at the grainy picture. “The university has a better photo of the real Devin. We could ask Atlantic City PD to search tonight with this, or wait until tomorrow morning.”
“Four women are dead,” Mia said. “I don’t think we can afford to wait.”
“I agree,” Aidan said. “Besides, if they don’t find him before morning, then we give them a better picture and ask them to start again.”
“I’ll send pictures of White and Math Boy to Atlantic City PD. Maybe somebody filed a missing person on the real Devin. Thanks for the help, Aidan. You guys go on home.”
Aidan quickly complied, waving good-bye on his way out. But Reed remained, watching her. “You’re coming home with me, Mia.”
She looked up, eyes narrowed. “That was a dirty stunt to pull, Solliday.”
He inclined his head, his own dander up. “What? That I want to keep you alive?”
She turned to her computer, her lips a thin line. “You could have asked me first.”
He backed off. “Yeah. And I probably should have. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Well, fine. Go home, Solliday. I’ll meet you later. After Beth goes to sleep.”
“You could come for dinner.”
Her eyes were locked on her computer screen. “I promised Abe I’d have dinner with them. Besides, you need time with your daughter. Go home. I’ll see you later.”
He leaned against her desk, closer than was wise, but dammit, he could still feel her trembling as he’d held her. She thought she was superwoman. But she was a hell of a lot more human than she wanted to admit. “Mia, I was there the other night, remember? I saw how close you came to not having a head anymore. Doesn’t that scare you?”
She looked up, eyes flat. “Yes. But that’s my job and my life. I’m not going to run every time a bad guy waves a gun in my face. If I did, I’d be useless to anyone.”
“If you’re dead, you’re useless to everyone,” he shot back.
“I said I’d meet you later.” Her eyes closed. “I promise. Now go home to your kid.”
Mia waited until he was gone, then called the Atlantic City police department, explained what she needed, answered all the questions she could. They said they’d coordinate a search with the management of the Silver Casino. She came back from faxing the photos to find Roger Burnette standing at her desk.
He was not pleased. He may have been a little drunk. His eyes were filled with pain and a reckless wrath that made her steps slow. Instinctively she put the photos on the first desk she passed so that when she approached him, it was with empty hands. No sense in giving a grief-ravaged parent the identity of their child’s killer. Especially when the parent was a cop. “Sergeant Burnette. Can I help you?”
“You can tell me you know who murdered my daughter.”
“We believe we do, sir. But we don’t have a legitimate identification or location.”
He took rapid breaths. “In other words, you know jack shit.”
“Sergeant.” Carefully she came closer. “Let me call someone to take you home.”
“Dammit, I don’t need anybody to take me home. I need you to tell me you know who killed my Caitlin.” In a rage he knocked the stack of file folders from her desk. Papers flew all over the floor. “You sit here and read all damn day. Why aren’t you out there looking?” He grabbed her then, gripping her shoulders like a vise and for the second time in an hour pain speared her. She’d been wrong—Burnette was very drunk. “You’re no cop,” he hissed. “Your father was a cop. He would have been ashamed of you.”
She shoved his arms away. “Sergeant. Sit down.”
He towered over her, fists clenched. “I’m burying my daughter tomorrow. Does that mean anything to you?”
She stood her ground even though she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “It means a great deal to me, -Sergeant. We’re close, but we don’t have him yet. I’m sorry.”
“Roger.”
Spinnelli was out of his office and between them faster than Mia had ever seen him move. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Burnette stepped back. “Getting an update on my -daughter’s case. Not that there’s anything to update,” he added in disgust.
“Detective Mitchell has been working this case nearly nonstop since Monday.”
“Then she’s not very good at her job, is she?” he sneered.
“Roger, you’re outta line,” Spinnelli barked.
Burnette turned on his heel, swatting at the air. “Go to hell, all of you.”
Spinnelli searched her face. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay, but he’s drunk,” Mia murmured. “Make sure he doesn’t drive himself home.”
“Mia, go home.” He winced. “Not home. To Reed’s. With whatever her name was.”
“Lauren.” She pointed to Burnette, who’d stopped at the bullpen doorway, his shoulders hunched. “Go help him, Marc. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Thursday, November 30, 8:05 P.M.
“Dinner was great, Kristen.” Mia smiled down at Kara -Reagan’s dirty little face as she struggled to take off a layer of spaghetti sauce without taking off a layer of the child’s fair skin. “You enjoyed it, too, didn’t you, Sweetpea?”
Kara bounced on Mia’s lap, a sly look in her eyes. “Ice cream. Pleeease?”
Mia laughed. She loved this little girl like she was her own. Playfully she tugged one of Kara’s red curls. “You have to ask Mommy about that.”
“Mommy said no,” Abe said. His color was better, but his face was still too thin. “But Daddy and Kara are hoping Aunt Mia being here will change Mommy’s mind.”
Kristen’s sigh was dramatic. “Two against one. They gang up on me like this every night. I made up the spare room, Mia. You’ll stay here tonight.”
Kara bounced. “Stay,” she demanded. She smacked a wet kiss on Mia’s cheek.
Kristen lifted the baby from Mia’s lap. “Bath time, baby. Then bed. Say good night to Aunt Mia.” Kara kissed her other cheek noisily, then Kristen carried her off, the two singing some silly bath-time song, Kara delivering the words with a sweet lisp.
“You have sauce on your cheeks,” Abe said wryly and Mia scrubbed it off.
“It was worth it.” She smiled wistfully after them, grateful the innocent child would never have to wonder if her parents loved her. “I don’t see how Kristen resists her.”
“She’s really a marshmallow. Don’t let the tough act fool you.” Abe sat back in his chair. “You’re not staying here tonight, are you?”
“No, but don’t tell Kristen until after I’m gone. She threatened to tie me down.”
“Please tell me you’re not going home.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Solliday has a duplex. I’m going to use the other side. I get my own room, my own kitchen, my own private entrance.”
Abe’s lips twitched. “Your own tunnel to the other side for midnight rendezvous?”
Mia sucked in a cheek. Abe was laughing now and she knew Aidan had spilled the beans about the office embrace. “Your brother has a big mouth. It was nothing.”
“Aidan’s always had a big mouth.” Abe chuckled. “You should see your face. It’s redder than Kara’s covered in -spaghetti sauce.”
She threw a napkin at him. “And to think I’ve missed you.”
“I’ll be back soon enough. Back to curry and sushi and vegetarian delights.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Solliday lets me choose.”
“Choose what?” he asked with a grin and she felt her face flame even hotter. He leaned back, his face sobering. “You’ll let me know if he... if you need help.”
“What? If he’s mean to me, you’ll beat him up?”
“Or something.”
He was serious and Mia was touched. “Other than being a little overbearing, he’s a gentleman. But he does piss me off. Trying to outmaneuver me.”
“Sounds like he’s succeeded.” He shrugged when she scowled. “You aren’t in your apartment right now. I see that as a plus. Maybe he can maneuver you into moving.”
Mia stared at him. “You, too? Abe, it’s my place. You wouldn’t sell this place. If I moved every time I made some bad guy mad, I’d be a nomad in a fucking tent.”
“This is bigger than one bad guy. What is Spinnelli doing to curb Carmichael?”
“What can he do? She didn’t say that was my address. She said shots were fired and that I was the target. She leaves it up to the reader to infer. She broke no laws.”
“Mia, how did Carmichael know where to find Getts and DuPree?”
“She said one of her sources had told her.”
“What if she’s the source?”
“You mean, what if she was there that night you got shot?” He nodded and she considered the possibility. “She could have followed them then. But that would mean she knew where they were the whole time and said nothing.”
“It would mean she waited until the day you came back to share the information.”
Mia could hear her temper pop. “Dammit. She wanted the story of me taking them down and I gave her half of what she wanted when I took DuPree.”
“And it was a front-page story when you did. Don’t trust her, Mia.”
“Shit.” She stood on shaky legs. “This day has sucked all the way around.”
“Stay a little longer. You look tired.”
She blinked hard. “I am tired. But I’ve got to get through Burnette’s files. We don’t have...” She hesitated, then shrugged and used Burnette’s own words. “We don’t have jack shit in terms of physical evidence. We’ve got to find the link.”
“But if you don’t know his real name, then what are you looking for?” he asked.
She rubbed her aching forehead. “You’re trying to trick me with logic,” she grumbled. “I’ll get some sleep, then hit the files.” She headed for the front door.
He followed, moving slowly but steadily. “Bring me some of them. I can help.”
She shrugged into her coat, wincing at her shoulder. She’d be lucky if Burnette hadn’t left a bruise. “You’re on dis-ability, pal.”
“I can sit and read. I’m going nuts here all day.” He tilted his head. “Pleeease?”
She laughed. “Now I know where Kara gets it. If -Spinnelli approves it, consider yourself hired. I’ll call tomorrow. Thank Kristen for dinner and kiss Kara for me.”
As she pulled away from his house, she could see him standing in the window, watching, just as Dana had watched her drive away the night before. Once again, she felt the unwelcome tug of jealousy mixed with resentment. But she didn’t resent Abe and Dana. Not really. It was the closeness they had with their new families. This she could admit to herself. It was coming home to a noisy house, with people who loved you no matter what. It was not having to drive away alone.
And even though the location had changed, she’d still be alone tonight. She’d be staying in Lauren’s house, while Reed’s family gathered on the other side. She thought of her own family. Kelsey in jail. Her mother... after the funeral they hadn’t spoken. Annabelle had ordered her not to return, which wasn’t hard to obey. She thought of the mystery blonde, wondered who she was and if she had a family. If
she
liked
her
mother.
She still hadn’t run those license numbers. When everything died down, she would.
When everything dies down. When everything settles.
They were the words she used to put off things. To put off buying new furniture, painting her bedroom. To put off moving in with Guy last year when he’d asked. Marrying him. When everything settles down...
And when will that be, Mia? How old will you be when that happens?
Out of sorts, she pushed the thoughts from her mind. She had more important things to worry about now. She was going to her apartment to pack a bag, so she had to have her mind clear, her attention sharp in case nasty people with guns lurked about. She’d think about all the angst later. She laughed aloud, the sound brittle and bitter to her ears.
When everything settles down.
