Double Cross (27 page)

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 . . .”

Daniel’s home set on fire! She shivered, reading every word of what happened. An online photo showed
Loser Cop
sprayed across the end of his brick home.

An empty gas can on the driveway was the arsonist’s calling card. Using her burner phone, she pressed in Daniel’s number. He answered on the third ring.

“Laurel? Are you all right?” His raspy voice indicated she’d wakened him from a deep sleep.

She regretted her impulsive call when he needed rest. “I’m sorry. I just now read about the fire. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’m fine. Need to get up anyway.”

“Sure?”

“Yep.” He yawned.

“Are you at Wilmington’s or your grandparents’ home?”

“Wilmington’s. Didn’t want to take a chance on being barbecued at yet another Hilton residence.”

“What did Wilmington say about last night?”

“Maintains Jack Breacher wasn’t in his employ. No idea who roasted my house other than Cayden or his bodyguard.”

“Any clues at the crime site?”

“A neighbor woman reported a yardman unloaded a lawn mower and gas can from a pickup early last evening. He wore a baseball cap and that’s all she could remember. Neither did she pay attention to the license plate. The fire investigator’s initial survey hasn’t found anything substantial.”

“Oh, Daniel, is there anything left of your home?”

“Yes. Last night investigators stopped me from going through what could be salvaged. Top of my list this morning.” He yawned again. “I’m heading back over there in a bit.”

“I’ll join you. I have the wig from before.”

“Doesn’t Wilmington have all your time?”

“He’ll have my attention at lunch.”

“Have a good time.”

“Gee, thanks.” She ached for his loss, the memorabilia that could never be replaced. “I’ll help for as long as I can.”

“The arsonist ticked me off with his spray paint art.”

“Cheap shot.”

“Last night when I left the hospital, I realized arresting the scammer had become more than personal, almost an obsession. Then when I saw the fire, anger bubbled like a volcano eruption. Wanted to kill Cayden with my bare hands. And it’s hard to continue being civil to Wilmington when his man attempted to kill my grandparents, and I can’t figure out what side of the fence he’s on. Had me a come-to-Jesus meeting to curb my temper.”

“Did it work?”

“My head’s more together this morning. I’m rational and angry.”

“Instead of irrational and furious?”

He chuckled. “We’re dynamite, Agent Evertson. Let me climb out of bed and meet you at my house. Investigators will be swarming the place, but it’s still my property.”

“And I’ll have a huge Starbucks for you, with a little sugar. How about a scone to go with it? They have a fabulous triple berry.”

“I love you.”

She dropped her muffin.

“Laurel?”

“Yes.”

“I meant I love you for bringing me breakfast.”

She caught her breath. “I know what you meant. I’ll see you in about an hour.” The call ended. Laurel touched her heart, still pounding like a schoolgirl’s with her first serious crush. After cleaning up the buttered muffin from the floor, she showered and dressed while his three little words replayed in her mind.

“Officer Hilton,” she whispered, “I’d bring you coffee and a scone every day to hear those words.” She was smitten, as Miss Kathryn used to say. But being with him was a dream.

At Daniel’s home, HPD and fire investigators searched through rubble, storing possible evidence and tagging the containers. They knew what to look for while her expertise teetered between cryptology and violent crime. What a mix. Daniel waved and she headed his way, wearing a smile from the inside out.

He walked slowly. No doubt he’d gotten little sleep. She handed him the venti-size coffee and pastry sack.

His eyes emitted warmth. “Thanks. I could drink three of these.”

“I added two extra shots of espresso.”

He grinned. “A ‘black eye’? Must have read my mind.”

“Absolutely. Any new developments?” Ripples of embarrassment spread through her about his earlier comment.

“A fire investigator is in the back. The others are searching and prying, taking soil samples, and sorting through what’s left of one end of my house.”

“It takes time.” She offered an encouraging smile. “But you know that. How’s your own personal recovery process?”

“The fire started in the garage and spread to the kitchen and living room.” He nodded at the fallen bricks and smoke. “The
area there is totaled.” He shrugged. “The sofa was on my list to be replaced anyway, and the dishes were from Target. The bedrooms have smoke damage, an easy fix.”

“What about the irreplaceable items?”

He blew into the hot coffee. “Valuables and important documents are in a safety-deposit box. It’s the old photos of Gran and Gramps I’ll never see again, and my parents.” He glanced back at the house, his jaw set.

Laurel followed his gaze and read the words spray-painted on the brick. Her stomach burned raw.

“I’d like to see whoever did this scrub off the paint with a toothbrush,” Daniel said. “Cuff him and throw away the key. I heard this morning a video about the fire and message went viral.”

“Not such a bad response. The city and various communities have their eyes open. There’re two things the public won’t tolerate: hurting children and victimizing the elderly. When this is over, your part in the investigation will prove you’re a hero.”

“I don’t feel like anything but a ‘loser cop.’ But a neighbor approached me last night and said several of them would scrub off the paint,” Daniel said. “Beginning late this afternoon.”

“Proves the human race can be kind.”

A man emerged from behind the house and called for Daniel. He wore a badge indicating his role as a fire investigator. “We’ve found a heel print near the back door of the garage.”

Daniel and Laurel walked his way.

“I’m assuming you want to hear my findings?” the man said.

“Every word.” Daniel introduced Laurel as a friend.

They approached the rear of his once-double garage, now smoldering embers. The stench filled her nostrils. This end of his house went up in flames while the other end with the spray paint had barely been touched. Several polyester bags had been filled and tagged.

The young man pointed to the remains and talked like he was conducting a class. “In my origin and cause investigation, I’ve
collected enough from the ash and debris for the lab to perform a chemical analysis. But the gas can found in the driveway says it all. Mr. Hilton, you made someone angry.”

“Looks that way.”

“Any idea who would have set the fire?”

“If I did, he’d be under arrest or in the hospital.”

The investigator stared at him. “Anger issues don’t address the crime. I spoke to neighbors prior to your arrival, and all we have is the woman who saw a yardman.”

“I do my own outside work.”

The man jotted down Daniel’s answers. “When were you last home?”

“I’ve been staying with a friend. It’s in the report.”

“This is my report. Would you normally have been home at the time of the fire?”

“Yes.”

Laurel’s mind drifted into investigative mode. The source didn’t show any sophistication. Only an elementary mentality designed to inflict damage and attempt to control the victim. The arsonist could set fire to Daniel’s house, so he did.

Shielding her eyes from the morning sun, she panned the backyard. A small metal object sparkled in the grass about ten feet from where she stood. Moving closer, she bent to examine it.

“Daniel, I found something.”

He knelt beside her. “That’s not mine. And I doubt a firefighter wears a diamond that size while battling a blaze.”

A horseshoe ring lay on the burned grass.

1:00 P.M. MONDAY

Wilmington and Laurel finished sharing a catered lunch in his dining room. She hated being there alone with him
 
—all of it. What made matters worse
 
—Jack Breacher had worked for him, the man who tried to kill Abby and Earl. Her mood had a foul stench, and she couldn’t shake it. But she had a role to play.

“Laurel, you gave yourself away last night,” Wilmington said.

Her thoughts slammed into reverse. “What do you mean?”

“Anyone watching you at the hospital with Daniel could see how you have feelings for him.”

“I didn’t say or do anything along those lines.”

“You have no idea who was watching other than Cayden and Vega. Everyone’s keeping tabs on our moves. To end this crime spree, we have to do our part.”

He was right, but she hated to admit it. “I’ll be more careful. What kind of advice did you give Jack Breacher? Or whoever torched Daniel’s house?”

He blew out his response. “I had that coming. The fire last night can’t be discussed with Cayden. Neither can I talk about the elder Hiltons except in generalities.”

“Can’t you ask him about Breacher?”

“No. He turned against me when I was in prison, but of course you have no reason to believe me.”

“Bring on the violin.”

“This is nearly over and when the arrests are made, your name will be at the top of the list of those who brought in Cayden and whoever else is involved. Your career will escalate.”

“Fame isn’t as important to me as it once was.”

“It should be. You’re the best.”

Her heart froze. She played a game, but he followed his heart.

He sucked in a breath.

“You’re hurting,” she said.

“Now and then.”

She despised him, but her sympathies came out whenever anyone was in pain. “Take some meds and indulge in a nap.”

His face paled and he pushed away a plate of uneaten food. “May need to. Are you going to stick around?”

“Can I use your computer?”

He chuckled. “Sure, go ahead. Can’t get me into any more trouble than before. I no longer have a safe.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. I have a few hours of research, which you can check later.”

“Do you think you’ll ever trust me?” he said.

She hesitated.

“That’s okay. Someday you’ll see I’m on God’s side.”

Not unless she was delusional. She’d copy his files this afternoon while researching her pet project: Natalie Ashton Cayden.

Thirty minutes later, she left Wilmington a text:
Need to run a few errands b4 going 2 airport. Will be back later.

2:00 P.M. MONDAY

Daniel met SSA Preston and Thatcher at the FBI office before changing and returning to Wilmington’s condo. Laurel had texted him with her plans to work while Wilmington slept.

Now to find out what the men wanted done considering the fund-raiser in a few days.

Preston entered the interview room with Thatcher. “We’re sorry to hear about the fire,” Preston said. “But the arsonist made one big mistake.”

“Or framed someone else and got away with it.” Daniel frowned. “I’m tired and cynical.”

“We’re working all angles,” he said. “In your position, I’d be cynical too. Probably out to slit a few throats.”

Sympathy coated the SSA’s words, but instead of appreciating the personal touch, Daniel wanted to explode. Definitely on overload. He prayed for clarity and a huge dose of patience. “The ring, sir. Who does it belong to?”

“Jack Breacher,” Preston said.

“Can’t question or prosecute a dead man.” Daniel ran his hand over his face. “So he spread gasoline and then went after my grandparents. Who lit the match?”

“I understand your impatience. We’re there too. Our path forward contains the work of several more agents.”

“Path forward? Sounds like a course in leadership development.” His head thumped with exasperation. He had to calm down, beginning by coaxing his blood pressure to a healthy level and steadying his breathing. “We’re all under stress with the critical situation facing us on Thursday. Help me understand why I’m here this afternoon.”

Thatcher glared at him. “You aren’t the only one who’s losing sleep with this case.”

“And like you, I want those responsible behind bars.”

“The FBI was on this case long before you were.”

“Enough,” Preston said. “We have work to do.”

Daniel swallowed a nasty remark. “Did Breacher have a military background?”

“No,” Preston said. “No connect with Wilmington or Cayden back then. Not sure about Vega, but it’s doubtful.”

“I haven’t seen what Breacher looked like before my grandmother eliminated him from the equation.”

Thatcher handed him his cell, but Daniel had never seen the man before. Grit stung his eyes. He toyed with a pen on the table, thoughts lining up like dominoes
 
—if one fell, the scammers’ whole operation collapsed.

“You two have a job to do tonight,” Preston said. “Now’s the time to put aside your personal differences.” He stared at both men. “Wilmington used to be part owner of a club called the Instantaneous down on Washington.”

Daniel knew the club.

“Jack Breacher used to work there. I want you to visit there tonight. Daniel, go as Wilmington’s bodyguard. Express a little dissatisfaction with him. Possibly looking for a job. Thatcher, you’re a friend looking for a good time.”

“With all due respect, I think I could be of more value working in other areas,” Thatcher said.

“You’ll be at the Instantaneous at ten thirty tonight.”