Count to Ten (48 page)

Sunday, December 3, 3:15 A.M.

The history of jet aviation was better the second time around. Mia lay in the hotel bed, Percy curled up on her stomach. The History Channel was replaying its schedule and she’d already seen histories of ancient Greece and Rome. She’d discuss them with Jeremy when he got to Dana’s. The boy would be happy there and she could visit—

The knock on the door startled her. Grabbing her gun from the nightstand she peeked through the peephole. Her shoulders sagged and she opened the door.
Reed.

He was freshly showered and shaved, a light bandage now only on the palm of one hand. The other held a plastic drugstore sack, the memory of which sent her senses pulsing. He looked handsome and... necessary. She could see the colors of the key card through the front pocket of his shirt. He was staying here. At this hotel. Proximity tempted, powerfully. But his shirt was open enough for her to see the glint of the gold chain around his neck and she squeezed her swollen heart back into its place. “Reed.”

“Can I come in?”

“It’s late.”

“You weren’t asleep.” His brows crunched slightly. “Please.”

Cursing her own stupidity, she stepped back and put her gun on the table by the door. “Okay.” Words swirled in her head, but she kept them there. For all intents, Reed was married. And she didn’t do married men. Or cops. Or partners. Or anyone.

He closed the door. “I wanted to apologize. Beth told me what happened. You did exactly the right thing.” He looked down at his shoes, then back up with a boyish grin that made her chest hurt. “The sirens and flashing lights were a nice touch. I don’t think she’ll be climbing out windows again any time soon.”

“Good. Because first slam poetry, then...” She sighed. “What do you need, Reed?”

His smile faded. “I think I need you.”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t do this to me. I want more than you can give me.” She laughed bitterly. “And if you gave it, I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with it anyway. So let’s just stop this now. You said you didn’t want to hurt me. So go.”

“I can’t.” He ran a thumb over the two stitches under her left eye. “I can’t go.” He threaded fingers up into her hair, tilted her face up. Took her mouth in the sweetest, gentlest kiss she’d ever had. “Don’t make me go. Please, Mia.”

A shudder wracked her body. She’d never wanted anything so much. Of their own volition her hands reached, flattening on his chest before her arms wound around his neck and she kissed him back. For the first second it was tentative, then the kiss exploded, openmouthed. Demanding. She let herself be drawn in, let herself want. Desperately.

No.
She broke the contact and stepped back. “You can’t be this cruel, Reed.”

He was breathing hard. “I hope not.” His throat worked as he set the plastic sack on the table next to her gun. He pulled out two little black velvet jewelry boxes and snapped them both open. Both were empty. “I thought we could do this together.”

She was losing her patience. “Do what?”

“You take off your chain, I’ll take off mine.”

Her mouth fell open. He stood there, face expectant. Eyes painfully uncertain. “And then what?”

“I don’t know. We play it by ear. One day at time. But this time with strings.”

Her heart was pounding. “I don’t know how to do strings, Reed.”

He smiled. “I do.” He slipped his finger beneath the thin tank top she wore and pulled out the old chain. Shook it so the dog tags clanked. “So? What do you say?”

Mouth dry, she nodded. “Okay.” And she was astounded when his shoulders settled. He’d actually thought she could say no. “But I have to keep the medic alert tag.”

“Thought of that.” He pulled a cheap silver chain from the sack. “This will do for now.” He put the chain in her hand. The price tag said five dollars. In that moment, it was worth more than all the diamonds in the world. He lifted the old chain from her neck. “Change the medic alert tag now.”

Hands shaking, she did, then slipped the new chain on. “It’s lighter,” she said.

“Pays to dump a little excess weight every now and then.” He drew a breath and took off his chain. “Let’s do this, Mitchell.”

And they did, she closing her box with a satisfied snap, he closing his with a caress of his thumb. “I’ll put mine away,” he said. “In my safe-deposit box.”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll throw mine in Lake Michigan.”

He grinned. She grinned back. It felt good. “So what else’s in the sack, Solliday?”

His grin went sly. “Big box,” he said and waggled his brows. “Variety pack.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You were pretty sure of yourself.”

His hands ran up and down her back as he sobered. “I hoped.”

Her heart turned over. “Where is Beth?”

“In a room down the hall with Lauren.”

“And the puppy?”

“At an all-night veterinary clinic. In a cast and resting comfortably. My family is safe and accounted for.” He kissed her sweetly. “Come to bed with me, Mia.”

She smiled up at him. It would be this easy then. “Okay.”

Sunday, December 3, 7:15 A.M.

How had he managed to lose her again? He’d had her. She’d come to him. He’d been waiting for her at Solliday’s house and she’d come. But with another man, not alone. And when she left, she’d checked into a hotel with very good security.

And when she came out this morning, it was with -Solliday, who’d checked in a few hours after she did. Solliday’s arm was around her shoulders, hers around his waist. He remembered the box of condoms on her nightstand and it occurred to him that if he’d just waited, he might have gotten them both in Solliday’s bed.

Now it was too late. He’d have to follow her. Sooner or later even Mitchell had to be alone.

Chapter Twenty-three

Sunday, December 3, 8:00 A.M.

M
urphy tossed a copy of the
Bulletin
across the conference room table. “Howard and Brooks picked up Getts last night. Page four, bottom corner.”

Mia flipped to the article with a smile. “Go team.”

Reed studied her face. “I thought you wanted in on that arrest.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Abe and I figured Carmichael was there that night, that she knew where DuPree and Getts were hiding all along and that she was feeding us information to keep her stories front-page. She offered me Getts last night thinking I’d swallow the bait. Even tried to tail me. I decided not to play her game.”

Westphalen patted her hand. “Our little girl’s growing up.”

Mia just grinned at him. “Quiet, old man.”

Spinnelli leaned back in his chair. “So, Reed, how’s your house?”

Reed grimaced. “Now I’ll know what it’s like on the paperwork end of an insurance claim. But it was Kates, no question. He came in through a window, went through the upstairs while I was downstairs on the phone. We think he grabbed Beth’s puppy on the way back out her window, but dropped him halfway down the tree. Ben Trammell found residue and egg fragments in both bedrooms.” He paused, thinking. “He used an egg at Tyler Young’s Friday night. He’s used nine now. Assuming he had access to a dozen of them in the art teacher’s cabinet, he’s still got up to three more.”

“What do we know about Tyler Young?” Spinnelli asked.

“His name was in the computer we took from Yvonne Lukowitch’s house,” Jack said. “Kates found Young’s real estate Web site through a high school alumni site.”

“I called Tom Tennant from the Indy OFI this morning and got the rest of the story. He said Tyler and his wife died. Both bodies were charred, but the ME found organ damage in the wife consistent with the same stab wounds Joe Dougherty had. She was lying on her stomach, just like Joe Junior. But Tyler was chained to the bed, his legs broken.”

“He’s getting good at that,” Mia murmured, troubled.

“I know. Their ME also thinks that Tyler received multiple stab wounds to the groin.”

“I think we know what happened in that house the year Andrew and Shane lived there,” Westphalen said. “They were trapped and nobody came to check on them.”

“And Laura and Penny had put them there,” Mia said. “Andrew must have cursed them every day. But they were there a year, then a big fire. Something must have happened on Shane’s tenth birthday.”

“Maybe it was the first time Tyler assaulted them,” Aidan suggested.

Mia nodded slowly. “Maybe. The other son might know.”

“Tennant said they found a number in Tyler’s personnel file for his brother, Tim. Tim Young’s a youth pastor in New Mexico. He works with underprivileged kids.”

Westphalen’s brows went up. “That’s either an attempt at redemption or a kid in a candy store. We may find out which one depending on what he’s willing to tell us.”

Reed had thought the same thing. “Tennant informed Tim of Tyler’s death yesterday. He’s traveling to Indianapolis today. Tennant will call me when he gets here.”

“In the meantime,” Mia said, “that leaves one person who knows what happened. Andrew Kates. We know he’s in town. At least he was nine hours ago. He wanted Laura dead, so much he tried three times. He made mistakes with Caitlin, Niki Markov, and with Donna. And still he didn’t get Laura. Ironically, he goofed with Penny, too.”

“What do you mean?” Spinnelli frowned. “She left him there a year.”

“No. That didn’t sit right with what everyone had told me about Penny. I went back and checked my notes and Reed, do you remember when we talked to Margaret Hill? -Remember when she said she almost lost her mother when she was fifteen?”

“Yeah. She said her mother had been shot by a client. She almost died.”

“Margaret Hill is twenty-five,” Mia said. “You do the math.”

“Oh,” Reed breathed. She was right. “Penny Hill went into the hospital right about the time she placed Andrew and Shane in that home. She didn’t forget about them. I bet her files got forwarded to other people and the kids fell through the cracks.”

Mia nodded. “Then Shane dies and somebody says
Oh shit.
Andrew gets shuffled to another foster home and Shane gets swept under the rug.”

“And his file disappears,” Spinnelli said grimly. “This is bad for the state. I’ll work it.”

“That’s fine. But back to Kates,” Mia said. “Knowing how much he hates to miss his mark, what if he were to find out he’d goofed with Penny Hill? She never abandoned him. She wasn’t even working the year he and Shane were at the Youngs’. Someone else dropped the ball with those boys. Someone else is to blame.”

“So someone else should pay,” Reed murmured, understanding her plan.

Spinnelli’s smile started slow and grew. “I like this. We could draw him out.”

“We’d have to set up some fake caseworker to take the fall,” Mia said. “Social Services would have to cooperate.”

“Leave that to me,” Spinnelli said.

“And,” she added, her own smile starting to spread, “it would have to get leaked to the press. By accident of course. And I wouldn’t want to lie to any nice reporters.”

“Of course not,” Spinnelli repeated dryly. “So Wheaton’s going down?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll have to give her a little factual information, like Kates is angry because he was lost in foster care. -Wheaton will dig deeper. It could get ugly.”

“He’s killed eleven people in my jurisdiction alone,” Spinnelli said grimly. “Five more elsewhere, plus all those rapes. I want him stopped. Leak the story. Give his motive. Don’t mention the dead brother or the lost file. We’ll try to deal with that internally.”

“Wheaton said she’d run that clip of Kelsey tonight at six, Marc,” Mia said.

Spinnelli nodded. “You think you can pull off the crawl-and-grovel act, Mia?”

“Oh yeah. Wheaton’ll think she has the biggest exclusive since Deep Throat.”

“Then we wait for Kates to come to us,” Reed finished.

She gave a single, satisfied nod. “And then we all live happily ever after.”

Sunday, December 3, 11:15 A.M.

Mia walked up to Wheaton’s table, angry belligerence in every step. Wheaton had insisted they meet in the same place she’d met Reed a few nights before.

Wheaton looked at Mia’s clothing with disapproval. “I thought you’d dress.”

Mia took a deliberate look at Wheaton’s low-cut blouse. “I thought you would, too.”

Wheaton’s smile was feline. “Detective, that’s hardly adult.”

“Neither was sending me that video. And we both know it wasn’t a mistake so just cut the bullshit.” A lady at the next table gave her a glare.

“If you’re done alienating the other diners,” Wheaton drawled, “what do you want?”

Mia cocked her jaw. “Don’t run that piece on my sister.”

“Ah.” Buttering her toast, Wheaton smiled. “I was wondering when you’d come to me. Well, that piece is set for tonight, opposite
60 Minutes.
”

She gritted her teeth. “Airing that tape will put my sister’s life in danger.”

“That can’t be my concern. I’m a journalist.”

Mia let her eyes flash. “Okay. Fine. What if you had an alternate story? One that would be bigger. More timely. That nobody else had. Yet.”

Wheaton was interested. “Exclusive?”

Mia closed her eyes, made the word drag off her tongue. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Tell me Kelsey’s off the table.”

“Can’t do that.” Wheaton leaned forward, rested her chin on her palm so that her perfect manicure showed perfectly. Her eyes sparkled. “You go first.”

Mia drew a breath that was only part pretense.
I hate you. I really hate you.
“The second victim, Penny Hill, was a mistake. He missed his real target.”

Wheaton’s eyes narrowed. “Who was the real target?”

Mia set her teeth. Hesitated. “I... I can’t do this. You go on the air with this and it paints a big bull’s-eye on this person’s head. I don’t care what...” She got up. “I can’t.”

Wheaton sat back, eyes cool. “I’ve got an updated picture of Kelsey. The old one didn’t look like her at all. And we girls do like to look our best. Most of us anyway.”

Mia leaned forward as if fighting the urge to lunge, her hands curved into claws. But she calmed herself, stuck her hands in her pockets. “You’re evil.”

Wheaton shrugged. “We can help each other here. Your call, Detective. Either way, I have a really good piece of film. So either way, I win.”

Mia closed her eyes. “Milicent Craven,” she hissed through her teeth.

“Tell me why Kates is doing this.”

Mia opened her eyes, made her face ashamed. “Penny Hill placed him in a foster home years ago. She got hurt, went on disability. His file was passed on to Craven, who dropped the ball, never checked him. Bad things happened to Kates in that home. This is about payback. But he paid back the wrong person.”

Wheaton was quiet for so long Mia started to think she wouldn’t take the bait at all. Then she nodded. “All right. If this pans out, your sister is off tonight’s program.”

Mia jerked a nod and turned.

“Oh, Detective Mitchell?” Mia turned back to find -Wheaton smiling like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “I’ll see you again next week. Same theme song.”

The bitch. “That’s extortion,” Mia murmured, so low the other diners couldn’t hear.

“That’s such an ugly word. I prefer ‘partnership.’ Well?”

“All right.” Mia turned on her heel, walked out, then got in her car and after making sure she wasn’t followed, pulled next to the police van parked a block away. She climbed inside and sat next to Reed. Jack had on headphones, watching the tape again.

“I almost didn’t catch the extortion line,” Jack complained.

Mia pulled the wire from under her shirt. “Sorry. I didn’t want to scream it.”

Reed lifted his brows. “I thought you were going to crawl and grovel.”

“She wouldn’t have bought it. I hate her too much and it’s not my style. So do you think that’s enough for Patrick to get an indictment?”

“Hope so,” Jack said. “If not, she’s just going to up the ante, making reports that threaten cops and their families to get information. We don’t know that she hasn’t done it before, with other cops who might not have had the strength to say no.”

“Or the support,” Mia said quietly. “I’m just glad they moved Kelsey.”

Jack started turning off his equipment. “Well, it’s Sunday. I’m going to run this tape into the office and go home to my wife and kids. It’s been fun, but leave now.”

Mia smiled. “Say hi to Julia for me and kiss that baby.”

Jack grinned. “I’ll kiss Julia, too. Now go. I got things to do.”

Mia and Reed climbed out and Mia looked up at the sky. “It’s sunny.”

“Perfect weather to clean up after a fire,” Reed said dryly.

Mia grinned up at him. “I’ve got some things to do, but I’ll come out and help as soon as I can. Then we have to get in position for tonight. This could be it.”

Reed watched her drive away, back in her tiny little Alfa. She’d gotten it back from the department garage just that morning, the windows replaced. There was still a bullet ding in the hood. She lived with danger every day and shrugged it off.

If the two of them really had something, if this became something, he’d have to learn to live with that danger. Now he knew how Christine had felt about him going into fires. He sighed. And, speaking of fires, he had one to clean up.

Sunday, December 3, 5:15 P.M.

“What have you done?” Dana came out of the house while Mia fought with the big box some helpful young clerk had tied into the trunk of her Alfa. Twine was everywhere.

“Friday was payday so I went shopping. Got a coat, some books, and this monstrosity.” She looked up at Dana. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Me, too. I wanted to tell you about the baby, but you’ve been kind of fragile lately.”

“Yeah. Well. Help me get this out.” Cutting at the string with her keys, she freed the box, carried it into the kitchen, and set it on the table. “Open it.”

Ethan came to the doorway, barefoot, his shirt hanging open and Mia could only think that Reed was a thousand times better. Especially without the ring. That definitely helped his sex appeal. “Hey, Mia,” he said as Dana ripped at the wrapping paper.

“Ethan. Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

Ethan grinned. “Nope. Too many kids in the house. But I was trying.”

“Oh, Ethan, look.” Dana looked up, her eyes moist. “Our first baby gift.”

Mia shifted, uncomfortable. “It’s a car seat, Dana. No need for the waterworks.”

“It’s the hormones,” Ethan confided in a loud whisper, then kissed Mia’s cheek. “Thank you.” He smiled down at her and Mia knew he understood.

Dana wiped her eyes. “Somebody’s here you might want to see.”

Jeremy.
“Let me guess. He’s watching TV.”