Gotcha! (11 page)

Wow, the man was easy to tease. Fun to tease. Even when she was half sick with worry over her brother, she enjoyed Jake Baldwin’s company.

“So, you’re going to be a nun with a law degree? Wear a habit into the courtroom?” he asked. “Sounds like a sitcom to me.”

“Mmm, a man-hating, lesbian nun with a law degree. Bet I could intimidate my witnesses.” Laughter caught in her chest.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re pulling my chain.”

“Why would I do that?” Why
was
she? She was toying with herself, too. She didn’t want to get any closer to this man. Didn’t want to continue liking him. “Well, it’s late, Sergeant Baldwin. And I have an early morning.”

His expression changed from suspicion to concern. “I think my sleeping here again might be a good idea.”

“Here?”

“On the sofa, of course—since you’re considering a convent.” His smile said how ludicrous he felt that was, and it made her heart beat a little faster.

“I don’t think…”

He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. “Tanks knows where you live. If what Ellie says is true, this guy would just as soon slit your throat as—”

He was just trying to push her buttons. “I’ll keep the phone by the bed. And remember, the FBI thinks Tanks has taken off.” That was right, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t leave her unprotected if the convict was expected to return.

Baldwin shook his head. “They’ve been wrong before. Do you know how long it takes for someone to break into a house? A person can be inside in sixty seconds. Guess how long the response time is for a patrol car.”

Macy stared at him. “Do you really believe he’d stay in town just to—”

“I think it’s a stupid risk to take, when you have me here. I’ll sleep on the sofa. You won’t know I’m around.” He smiled. “So your virtue’s safe—unless you don’t want it to be.” The heat in his eyes had returned.

“But—”

He lifted his hands in a display of mock fear. “You think I’d try something with a soon-to-be man-hating lesbian nun working on her law degree?”

She almost grinned, but the humor of the situation faded as the bright patches of white paint on her walls caught her attention.
He’d just as soon slit your throat as—
Baldwin’s words echoed inside her head. She met his eyes.

The truth? She was afraid of Baldwin, too. But who frightened her more, a man who would cut off her head…or a man who could rip out her heart? But Baldwin couldn’t touch her heart unless she let him, and she wasn’t letting him.

“Just one night.” She could trust herself for one night. Couldn’t she?

“It might be over tomorrow,” he agreed.

Might be? Then he’d leave and she wouldn’t have to see him anymore. The thought didn’t make her nearly as happy as it should have.

Macy stood and collected a blanket and a pillow from the hall closet before she had a chance to change her mind. She dumped them in the detective’s lap and said, “There’s only one bathroom. The lock’s broke. So when you’re in there…sing.”

He grinned and warned her, “Can’t sing worth a damn.”

“Then hum.” She took three steps.

“Macy?”

She turned and faced him. He looked at her with a mixture of concern and heat—not the way a man should look at a wannabe nun. But then, she wasn’t a nun, and the way her body responded made that all too clear. “Yes?”

“You were joking about the nun thing. Right?”

She crossed herself as she’d seen Father Luis and Sister Beth do. “Bless you, Baldwin.” Then she headed to her bedroom, adding over her shoulder, “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

God help her, she was smiling again.

Jake refluffed a pillow that had no fluffing capacity. He could live with a lot of things, but a wimpy pillow wasn’t one of them. Finding the sofa pillow instead, he stuffed it behind his head. A whiff of Macy floated up, a feminine scent with traces of pizza, and his body tightened. Just his luck! The one woman who would tempt him to resurface in the dating world, and she was a wannabe man-hating lesbian nun out to get her law degree. But, staring at the ceiling, he recalled that twinkle in her eye. She’d been playing him. Hadn’t she?

A divorcée couldn’t become a nun, could she? Then again, Catholics were famous for annulling marriages. Well, he didn’t know one way or another, but he knew someone who would. His brother. Religion was his brother’s thing, just as it had been their father’s.

Jake sat up and grabbed his cell phone. He punched in the numbers before he remembered he didn’t talk to his brother anymore—and if he did, he wouldn’t be calling this late. “Damn!” He shut the phone off and dropped it.

Right then, it hit him. He missed Harry, missed the late-night conversations and religious debates. He missed the Saturday nights when Harry would call to practice his Sunday sermon. Jake seldom attended church, but he’d heard Harry’s sermons. They were good.

Night and day, day and night. As brothers, the Baldwins were different. But they’d also been as close as two brothers could be. Until Lisa.

For two years, he and Lisa had dated and made plans. They’d marry in June; she’d be pregnant in two years; they’d have a house in the suburbs in five. None of it had happened.
Be happy you got out of the ball and chain
, friends had told him when they heard the wedding was off. He’d laughed and said he was dancing to the tune of freedom. That was a damn lie. He’d loved Lisa—he’d wanted the ball and chain. His parents’ love had filled the house with laughter and taken the couple early to bed many nights. Jake had wanted the same thing.

Yeah, he knew he’d not been the picture-perfect fiancé during those last months. Watching someone you love die isn’t easy. His father’s cancer had returned with a vengeance, and Jake had taken off work and helped his mom care for him. Jake still hadn’t gotten over the grief when Lisa returned his ring, and within a few months, she’d started wearing his brother’s. Within seven months, he’d lost his father, his fiancée, and his brother.

Jake would have recovered from losing his father. One has no choice but to accept death. Losing Lisa had stung. He could have gotten over that, too. But
losing Harry to Lisa
had cost too much. It cost him pride and it cost him his brother. He’d thought he could deal with that, eventually, if he never had to see them. But that was the problem. The family reunion was weeks away. Knowing he’d have to see Lisa and Harry together…Damn, he didn’t want to be reminded of all he’d lost.

For an hour, he juggled the problem in his mind. Then, eager to switch gears away from his family issues, he thought about Macy’s family. He recalled the report he’d read on Billy. The kid had used her car to rob the convenience store. Jake wasn’t sure Billy deserved Macy’s devotion any more than Harry deserved Jake’s. However, in the short conversation he’d had with Billy, he’d certainly heard the boy’s devotion for his sister.

Take care of my sister, Baldwin.
Billy’s words vibrated through Jake’s head, and he pulled the pillow to his nose to breathe in her scent again. “I plan on it, Billy. I plan on it.”

Rolling over, he tried to shut off his mind and sleep. It worked. His eyes finally drifted shut. But he hadn’t slept five minutes when a loud noise jarred Jake awake.

Jake grabbed his gun and, realizing the sound was a knock on the front door, bolted from the sofa into the entryway. As his bare feet hit cold tile he heard someone call his name from the other side.

“Jake? It’s Mark.”

Jake sucked air into his lungs. Relief surged, then vanished. Donaldson would only come for a reason. Chances were, the reason wasn’t good.

He opened the door, trying to shake off his sleepiness. From Donaldson’s tousled appearance, the Golden Boy didn’t fare much better.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I got a call from your friend in Homicide—Anders. He’s at a case and wants you there.”

“Why didn’t he call me?”

“He tried your cell. I tried your cell. It’s not on.”

“Shit!” Jake remembered he’d turned his phone off when he’d almost called his brother. “What’s this about?”

“Don’t know. But if it’s his case, there’s probably a body.”

Was it Macy’s brother? Jake fought back a wave of fear, for both what he’d find out and what might happen if he left Macy alone. He pushed a hand over his face and thought about options. Then his gaze alighted on Donaldson.

“Come in,” he said.

“So our effort was worth it?” the blond cop asked in a low voice as he entered. He smiled.

Jake sighed. “I’m sleeping on the couch. And that’s exactly where you’re going to be until I get back.” He went to collect his things.

A little while later, Jake parked beside a patrol car and took out his badge to help cut his way through the barrage of cops and press. The small white-framed house that was his destination had “rental property” written all over it.

He spotted Stan Anders in a corner of the living room. From the man’s rumpled appearance, he appeared to have been dragged from bed. Jake nodded at both Stan and the officer beside him.

“You made it,” his friend said. “Give me a sec.”

Jake’s gaze drifted around the room. A hubbub of voices, mostly cops’, and the smell of dirty laundry filled the room. No body—not in here. Not that he looked forward to seeing a corpse, but Stan had brought him here for a reason. Considering that a body was usually why Stan showed up, Jake could add one plus one. He just hoped “two” wasn’t Macy’s brother.

As Stan talked, Jake continued to assess the situation. A robbery maybe? That would explain his being summoned.

When his friend approached, Jake said, “What’s up?”

“In here.”

Jake followed. As he walked past, he noticed a busty redheaded woman sitting on the sofa, sobbing on an officer’s shoulder. She wore a skimpy cocktail dress that left little to the imagination. The officer looked all too happy to be assisting.

“She works at Girls Galore, if you’re interested,” Stan whispered.

Jake frowned. “You better have another reason for getting me out of bed.”

“Hey, she’s hot!” Stan moved into the kitchen. “I know how much you need your beauty rest, but I remembered what you said about your gal’s place. I know it’s a long shot, but…” He pointed to a box on the floor beside a humming refrigerator.

“Okay, you got my interest.” Jake knelt down beside the case of red spray paint—the same brand and color that had been used at Macy’s. Two cans were missing from the box.

“The near-naked woman didn’t intrigue you, but a box of spray paint does?” Chuckling, Stan shook his head as Jake got to his feet. “I worry about you.”

“Is there a body?” Jake’s gaze moved around the room.

“Yup. Scantily clad women and a murder. Do I know how to throw a party or what?”

Jake focused on his friend. “You like this too much.”

Honesty deepened Stan’s tone. “It’s laugh or cry. Now come on, I’ll give you the tour. The vic’s a male. Young. Too young.”

Jake created a mental picture of Billy Moore from his mug shot. He dreaded explaining this to Macy.

Passing the sobbing redhead and opportunistic patrol officer again, Jake recalled he’d wanted to hold Macy in just the same way, to comfort her. Yeah, it was happening fast. And fast wasn’t Jake’s style. Not when it came to emotions. He’d dated Lisa a month before she’d gotten under his skin. While he damn well wasn’t backing away from Macy, maybe he should chill out a bit. He’d been pursuing her a bit hard.

Stan led him to a bedroom. Cops, uniformed and plainclothes, milled everywhere. Jake stopped in the doorway and stared at the corpse sprawled out on the carpet. The boy’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. A deep slit gaped across his throat. Blood haloed his head. The smell of death filled Jake’s sinuses, but he studied the face with relief. It wasn’t Billy.

“How did you find him?” Jake placed a hand over his nose.

“Red did. He’s her boyfriend. He was supposed to pick her up from work. When he didn’t show, she caught a ride home with someone else.”

“Does…did the guy have a record?” Jake asked.

“She said he was on parole, but she doesn’t know what for. I’ve got someone checking.”

“Hey, Anders.” An officer motioned for Stan from the other side of the room.

Having seen enough, Jake went back into the living room. A pizza box on the coffee table caught his gaze, and his thoughts shifted to Macy. The idea of her delivering pizza while Tanks was loose didn’t sit well. He wondered if she even carried pepper spray. Hell, the woman didn’t even have a working cell phone. Of course, he didn’t have to worry about that. Pretty soon she’d trade the pizza uniform in for a nun’s habit.

He blew out a breath and shifted his focus back to the sexy redhead. Definitely not nun material. But neither was Macy, damn it! She’d been joking. Hadn’t she?

Forcing his mind off Macy, he watched Red tug at her skirt. It confused the hell out of him why women wore something too short and tight, then tugged at it. Either show off your assets or don’t! Red had a very nice pair of legs.

His focus caught on what lay beside those legs: an open phone book with something circled. His brain started playing connect the dots. Billy’s words rang in his memory.
He’s killed someone else. Tanks knows where Mace works. I saw…he had her work number and address circled in a phone book.
Jake edged closer. Papa’s Pizza was circled.

“Damn!” The guy or guys who’d done this were the same ones after Macy. He jerked out his cell phone and dialed Donaldson’s cell.

Answer, damn it!
One ring. Two…

“Hello?” Donaldson’s voice came out sleepy.

“Everything okay?” Jake asked.

“Yes. Something happen?”

“Just keep an eye out. Looks like Tanks might be mixed up in whatever happened here, and it’s ugly. I’ll fill you in later.”

Shutting his phone, Jake considered his next call and glanced toward the bedroom. Stan wasn’t going to be happy. No cop liked having another agency nosing around. But the Gulf Coast Violent Offenders unit was already sniffing out Tanks and would want to know about this.

Raking a hand though his hair, Jake headed back to the bedroom. The least he could do was give Stan a heads-up before he made the call.

Billy watched the lights go off in Girls Galore, and his thoughts went to the young woman who’d crawled into his car—one of the establishment’s dancers who’d been angling for a little side trade. He’d been able to hide his gun beneath his shirt before she saw it. Six months ago, he would have unzipped his pants and taken her up on the ten-dollar special she’d offered, girlfriend or no. Was it prison or Ellie that had changed him? Maybe both.

Growing impatient, he waited until the last car left the parking lot. No Tanks.

“Shit!” What was he going to do if he couldn’t find the man? He sucked on his bottom lip, catching himself right before he bit down. Closing his eyes, he wondered what Mace would tell him to do.

Turn yourself in now, Billy
, he could hear his sister say. But, he couldn’t do that. Even if Tanks was caught and put back in prison, he had people on the outside. People who could hurt Ellie and Mace. Billy would be helpless in the joint, unable to protect the people he loved.

“I can’t turn myself in,” he mumbled. “I gotta do this.”

Starting the van, he drove back to the house with the dead man. Maybe Tanks was fool enough to return.

When he pulled down the street, however, he saw flashing blue lights. The police! Whipping his van into a neighbor’s driveway, he squeezed air into his tight lungs and put the vehicle in reverse. Slowly he pulled away. He had to figure a different destination.

An hour later he parked in front of Andy’s trailer. He noticed the boy’s car was gone, but he supposed that didn’t mean anything. Billy crawled out of the van, wanting only to pull Ellie against him, to hold her and forget about all the terrible images flashing in his head. Images of Hal, the guard, bleeding; of Brandon gasping for air while blood oozed from his lips; and now of that dead guy with his throat slashed. For just a few minutes, he wanted to see the world as Ellie did, through rose-colored glasses.

The light glowed yellow from the front window as he stepped up on the trailer’s wobbly porch. Had Ellie waited up? The door creaked open. The smell of pine cleaner filled Billy’s nose. The trailer looked different, with no trash, no dirty clothes. Even the old sofa sat level, thanks to two phone books tucked under the missing leg.

“Ellie?” The silence hung thick. Billy’s heart began to thump. He ran to the bedroom, searched the bathroom.

Nope. Ellie wasn’t there.

While CSI loaded the body on a stretcher, Jake stepped onto the back porch. The task force had arrived, and Agent James had insisted he hang around, though all Jake wanted to do was get back to Macy.

The door slammed behind him, and Stan stormed out. “Tell me again why you felt the need to call those jerks.”

“They’re after Tanks.”

“And you think they’re more capable of catching the guy than we are?”

“I think they’ve got a leg up on the case.”

“And you’re working with them. Why?”

“I’m not working with them. I’m just…It’s the girl. The one whose house was broken into. Tanks is after her.”

“Well, that explains it. There’s always a piece of ass involved.”

Jake flinched. “Damn, Stan! You know I’m—”

His friend held up a hand, rescinding his previous comment. “I just don’t like it,” he admitted. “Why is this Tanks guy after her, anyway? And why are the Feds in on it?”

Jake hadn’t been sworn to any secrecy. “The Feds are looking at Tanks for the murder of one of their agents. I’m guessing that’s the reason Gulf Coast got involved so quickly. As for the reason he’s after Macy…It’s revenge. Her brother Billy stole his girl.”

Stan folded his arms across his chest. “Women are at the root of every problem.”

Jake scuffed his shoe against the slatted wooden porch. “You get anything in there?”

“Lots of prints. No murder weapon. One of the guys recognizes him. Name’s Mike Sawyer. He did three years for grand theft auto, and a few breaking-and-entering charges. He was—probably still is—part of a gang. They call themselves the Wolves.”

“I’ve heard of them.” Jake’s mind returned to the red paint. Agent James didn’t seem convinced that Tanks had been here, but Jake’s gut said different. He knew the escaped convict had offed Sawyer.

Silence reigned, and a few lightning bugs floated across the yard. Jake glanced back at Stan. “You know anything about the Catholic religion?” he asked.

Stan wrinkled his brow. “Not really. Why?”

Jake shrugged. “Nothing.”

Agent James, wearing a task-force jacket, walked out of the house. His gaze found Stan. “Sorry about what happened in there. Sometimes the kitchen isn’t big enough for two cooks.”

“Your cook is an ass,” Stan said.

“I just told him that myself,” James agreed. “Look, I’d like to work together, not fight over who’s in charge.”

“So you believe Tanks was behind this?” Jake asked.

Agent James nodded. “Never disbelieved it, but I wanted more than a circled phone number and a can of paint.”

“And you found it?” Stan asked.

The FBI man motioned them inside. As they entered, Mike Sawyer’s body exited. Agent James slipped on a pair of gloves, went to the answering machine, and hit a button.

“Hey,” a shrill voice said. “This is Ellie. Call me.”

James’s lips tightened. “I’m willing to bet there’s not another Ellie with that voice.”

“God, I hope not,” Stan said. “That hurt my ears.”

Agent James nodded. “We’ve gotten a trace on her home phone and are working on her cell.”

Jake remembered Ellie’s phone call to Macy. It didn’t make sense that Ellie would be calling Tanks…. “We’re missing something,” he said.

Agent James raised an eyebrow. “When you figure out what it is, you be sure to let me know.”