Minutes to Kill (28 page)

Brody was walking into the lobby as Hannah came off the elevator. Disappointment was etched on her face.

“Your time was up,” he said.

She gave him a tight nod and hurried out of the building. He wrapped an arm around her waist as they crossed the parking lot

“He says he didn’t participate, but he knew. Like that’s much better.” She swiped an angry tear from under her eye with her forefinger.

“How do you work with people like that?” He pressed the fob and unlocked the car.

Hannah turned, resting her forehead against his chest. “I don’t know, and the worst thing is I can’t repeat any of our conversation to the police. He’s a client of my firm. I’m bound by confidentiality.”

“Don’t worry. Douglas has Herb Fletcher on his radar.”

They drove back to the Venetian and went up to their room. It was glitzy, with a big king-size bed a step down from the seating area. The window had a beautiful view of the city lights, but Brody closed the Roman blinds. He had a feeling Hannah wouldn’t want to stare at the glittery landscape of Vegas when they’d spent the day seeing its ugly underbelly.

“I feel filthy.” She turned on the shower and stripped off her blouse.

Brody crossed the room. “Hannah.”

She was stepping out of her slacks, letting them drop to the carpet. “I don’t understand. Why do people have to be cruel? Why do girls get victimized and good family men murdered?”

He pulled her to his chest. Her brother’s death last spring had left her scarred.

“Do you know how old Lola is?” She pulled her face away from his body. Anger glittered in her eyes. “Fourteen. She’s fourteen years old. The Mexican cartel kidnapped her. They murdered her father right in front of her. What kind of people do that?”

“I don’t know.” Brody wiped a tear from her cheek. “I love that you can’t even understand that concept. I love you.”

She burst into tears. Not the response he’d hoped for his first declaration of love.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that after the day you had.”

Hannah cried into his shirt. “I love you, too.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.”

“Obviously, I’m really messed up.” She sniffed and lifted her head again. “Make me forget all about today. I need to feel something that isn’t tainted. Something pure and clean.” She kissed him.

Brody smiled down at her. His hand stroked her face and settled on the column of her neck. He could think of nothing more pure than showing her how much he loved her.

“I’m going to miss you when you’re in London.” His heart was hers forever, but in a week’s time, their bodies would be separated by an ocean.

She kissed him. “I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t,” he said, confused.

“What would I do? I need goals. I need purpose.”

“Do whatever you want. You can be a lawyer anywhere, Hannah.”

“I worked my whole life for the opportunity that is right in front of me.”

“I’ll support whatever you choose to do. I would never want you to feel like you were sacrificing something to be with me.”

She brushed her fingers across his temple. “Being with you would never be a sacrifice.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Hannah awoke in Brody’s arms. Half the giant bed was empty with her body plastered against his warmth. She lifted her head from his shoulder.

“You’re awake.” He kissed her. “Good morning.”

Her fingers trailed along the muscles of his broad chest. She slid her hand under the covers. He pressed his mouth to hers, tenderly. Regret filled his eyes.

“What is it? Not in the mood?”

“All I have to do is look at you and I’m in the mood. Actually, just thinking about you is enough. But I have some news.”

Hannah sat up, pulling the covers over her breasts as the chilly air hit her bare skin. Brody levered up on one elbow. The sheet fell from his torso, revealing his black-and-blue rib cage.

She reached out and touched the skin with a fingertip. “I should have wrapped that for you last night. And we shouldn’t have made love. It couldn’t have been good for your recovery.”

“It was the best thing possible for my recovery.” He took her hand. “Douglas called. They found Jewel last night, and she’s alive.”

Hannah gasped. Shock and joy numbed her. She hadn’t expected to ever see the girl again. “When? Where?”

“Lola’s information, combined with all the data the trafficking team pulled from Mick’s phone records and computer, led them to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. When the police arrived, the building was on fire, but Jewel and another girl were hiding. Apparently, the traffickers got wind of the raid and cleared the place out during the night. These two girls slipped away in the commotion.”

“Oh, my God.” Hannah pressed a palm to the center of her chest.

Brody squeezed her other hand. “Douglas said you can see her later today.”

“Yes.” Hannah read something else in Brody’s eyes. He was holding back on her. “What is it?”

He sighed. “About fifty miles away, the police found thirty-six dead girls in a storage container.”

“No.” Horror wrapped around Hannah.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her close.

Hannah pressed her face to his chest and cried. She had no resolve left. It was done. She’d helped find Jewel. She knew in her brain she hadn’t caused the deaths of all those other girls, but her heart was heavy with sadness and guilt.

Ten minutes later, she was empty and spent. Her eyes ached, and her chest hurt. “They were nothing but potential witnesses to those men.”

“Probably.”

“They’ll try to get Jewel and the other girls who survived.”

“I’m sure they’ll be guarded.” Brody stroked her hair. “Douglas and his team are working with the FBI and Border Patrol, plus a host of other agencies who specialize in investigating human trafficking. Homeland Security could get involved. They are taking the girls’ safety very seriously. In fact, Douglas said if you want to see Jewel, I mean Jenna, then you’d better go today. She’ll be moved soon to a secure location.”

Hannah wiped her eyes. “OK. Give me twenty minutes to get myself together.”

Within an hour they were back at the hospital.

Douglas ushered Hannah into the hospital room and stepped out. “The two girls seemed to have bonded, so we’re keeping them together. It’s important to call her Jenna. She needs to regain her sense of identity. That’s one thing traffickers take away early, along with hope and dignity.”

A very pregnant teen slept in one bed. Jewel, no, Jenna sat in the bed near the window.

“Hi, Jenna.” Hannah approached the bed. “I’m glad you’re OK.”

A tear rolled down the girl’s cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

“It wasn’t me.” Hannah shook her head. “You saved yourself, and it looks like you saved someone else, too. Two someones.”

Brody filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee in the waiting area. “What will happen to these girls?”

Detective Douglas popped the tab on a can of Diet Coke. “Jenna has a mother, but I don’t know that she’ll go back home. The mother’s pedophile boyfriend was picked up for violating the terms of his parole, but Mom is unstable and unreliable. Besides, we need Jenna as a witness. We want to keep her safe, and if we hold on to her, she’ll get the help she’s going to need.”

He had the haggard look of a man who saw dozens of dead teenagers the previous day and just couldn’t process the sight.

“
Can
you keep her safe?”

“The girls will probably go into safe houses. We’ve dealt with this before. Witnesses tend to disappear in any case even remotely related to a Mexican cartel.”

“This isn’t over.”

“This will never be over,” Douglas said. “But we’re a step closer. Mick Arnette and his brother won’t be abusing any more girls. We have eyes on Herb Fletcher. We have new witnesses who hold vital information. Mick was in the habit of leaving his computer lying around. He used a password and must have assumed the girls couldn’t access it. But Lola said she watched him and learned his password. Jenna did the same. That is one very smart girl. Before she tried to run away from Mick’s house, she copied his document files to a cloud account. We have everything. Spreadsheets of income and expenses, client information, and online classified accounts where he advertised the girls. We also have a cell phone that communicated with the parent organization. That’s a lot of data to sift through. We’re in this for the long haul. On top of all that, we have Sam’s girlfriend.”

Hannah came down the hall. She wiped her eyes with a tissue.

“Are you all right?” Brody asked her.

“Yes. I gave the girls my card and told them I was available for legal assistance if they need it.” She turned to Douglas. “Jenna is worried about a dog that was kept at the house.”

Douglas nodded. “There was a pit bull mix chained up out back. He barked a lot but was surprisingly friendly. Poor beast was half-starved.”

“What happened to him?” Hannah asked.

Douglas drank from his can. “He was supposed to go to the animal shelter, but one of the guys on the raid team felt bad and took him home. Maybe I can arrange to have the dog visit Jenna. Could help win her trust. Thanks.”

“Good-bye, Detective. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me.” Hannah turned toward Brody.

He steered her to the elevators, and they navigated the hallways to the exit. Outside, the sun washed them with heat. “Going to be cold in New York.”

They walked to the car.

“I still can’t wait to get home,” she said.

But it wasn’t really home. Not to her. Brody would miss her when she left. “When will you go back to work?”

“I don’t know.” She stopped beside the rental car. “Royce is in the Manhattan office. I’ll probably take the train down on Monday and talk to him.”

“Can’t you just call him?”

“No. Face-to-face is better with Royce. On the phone, he issues orders and hangs up on me.”

Brody opened her car door. In the back of his mind, he could picture his grandfather doing the same for Gran. They were together for sixty years. Best friends, Gran had said. Brody had always wanted that for himself.

“When will you leave for London?” he asked her.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t sound too excited.”

“I don’t know what I want.” She turned and splayed her hands on his chest. “You confuse me, and what I feel for you scares the hell out of me. I’m not good at the relationship thing, but I’m working on it.”

He kissed her forehead. “I suppose I’ll have to give up my wild and crazy dating life and the club scene.”

Hannah snorted and got into the car. “In Scarlet Falls? The only clubs in town have greens fees.”

He closed the door. Long-distance was better than nothing. But he didn’t want her to go to London or anywhere else. He wanted her with him.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Hannah took a cab from Penn Station to the Manhattan office of Black Associates. She swiped her ID at the security desk and took the elevator up to the twenty-fifth floor. Pushing through the double glass doors, she made a beeline for Royce’s office.

Getting off the elevator, she passed two construction workers. The whine of a power tool floated down the hall.

“Miss Barrett. I’m so glad to see you looking well. Mr. Black said you were injured.” The secretary pressed a button on her phone. “Let me buzz Mr. Black for you. Go right in.”

Royce stood as Hannah went into his office.

“You weren’t supposed to come back until the neurologist cleared you.” Was that irritation in Royce’s eyes?

“I got a second opinion.”

He shook his head. “Not good enough.”

What was wrong with him? “I don’t get it, Royce. Why don’t you want me back at work? Obviously, I’m fully recovered.”

“No reason. Of course I’m happy to have you back. I simply wanted you to have the very best care.” He stood, his posture stiff. Something felt wrong. Royce was giving off a very strange emotion. He was definitely not happy she was back. Why not?

You should be worried about what’s going on in your own house.

Herb hadn’t meant
house
as in Scarlet Falls. He’d meant the law firm.

She raised her gaze. Their eyes locked.

Royce’s went arctic. “Hannah. What am I going to do with you?”

“You?” Disbelief paralyzed her for a few seconds. “You hired those young girls. You like . . .”

Royce made a face. “Of course not. But some men have a taste for youth.”

“The client always gets what the client wants.” Hannah turned away. She slid her hand into her pocket and, glancing down, opened the voice memo app on her cell phone.

“Exactly. See, you really do understand.” Royce said. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. Full partnership. It’s what you’ve been working day and night toward for five years.”

Hannah turned back to face him. “If I keep quiet about you hiring underage hookers for a client, you’ll make me a full partner?”

“Yes.”

“No deal, Royce. I’ve already given this company my sweat and personal life for five years. I draw the line at my soul.”

Royce opened his drawer, and a second later, Hannah was staring into the muzzle of a gun. He came around the desk and stood in front of her. “Then I guess I’ll have to ensure your silence in another way.”

“Now what, Royce? You can’t shoot me in your office.”

“I’d rather not, but I can if I must. The walls are well insulated. My secretary has gone to lunch, and the construction on the other side of the building will cover any loud or unusual sounds.” Royce cocked his head.

“Have you always kept a gun in your drawer?” she asked. “It’s almost impossible to get a carry permit in the city limits.”

“Herb called me and gave me a bit of warning.”

Bastard.

“Do you really like the Sig?”

“What?” Irritation and confusion lined Royce’s forehead.

“I know a lot of people love the feel of the Sig’s solid metal frame, but I like the lighter weight of my Glock, especially for concealed carry.”

Royce tilted his head. And that moment of distraction was all she needed.

Hannah’s hand shot out. In the same smooth movement, she turned her body out of the line of fire. Grabbing the slide bolt on the top of the gun, she redirected the barrel and twisted the gun out of his grip. It was like disarming a kindergartener. “Next time you pull a gun on someone, practice with it so you look half-competent.”

She eased the slide back a half inch and checked for a bullet in the chamber. “All this time, you could have helped me find that girl. You paid her pimp to set up one of our clients with underage prostitutes. That’s human trafficking, you bastard.”

Royce shrugged. “They’re just whores.”

“They’re children! You are as sick and depraved as the men who lust after schoolgirls.”

Anger sharpened Royce’s eyes. “It’s a hard world out there, Hannah.”

And she was sick of it. “The client gets what the client wants?”

“That’s how it works.” Sweat beaded on Royce’s forehead. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Oh, please. If there wasn’t a trail of some sort, you wouldn’t have pulled this little number on me. It’s nearly impossible to keep an activity under the radar in this day and age. Technology has its price.” Hannah gestured with the gun. “I do like the feel of this grip.”

Suddenly everything was clear. “Sending me to that neurologist, that was all part of it, wasn’t it?”

“I wanted you out of the way for a while.”

“Why? I was going to London. Isn’t that out of the way enough?” Mental head smack. “The girls were for Timothy.”

Royce took a step forward.

Anger stirred fresh behind Hannah’s ribs. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I actually know how to use this gun.” She reached for her cell phone and dialed 911. “Oh, and I quit.”

Two hours later, Hannah sat in a plastic chair in an NYPD chief’s office with a cold cup of coffee cradled in her hands. The police had her recording of her conversation with Royce. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and there was only one person she wanted to talk to. She dialed Brody’s number.

Rain misted Hannah’s face as she stared at the front door of the nursing home.

“Are you all right?” Brody reached around her and opened the door.

Hannah let out the breath she’d been holding. “I don’t know.” Her nerves were as frayed as a worn end of rope.

“It’ll be OK.” Brody put his hand on the small of her back and steered her into the lobby.

Hannah breathed. Her lungs had felt inelastic since the nursing home had called her thirty minutes before to tell her that the Colonel had had difficulty breathing. She’d planned to visit this afternoon but had come immediately instead.

She checked at the reception desk. “How is he?”

The nurse smiled, but her eyes were sad. “His breathing was labored earlier this morning, but he seems a bit better now.”

Hannah swallowed and nearly choked. Brody took her hand, his body heat burning hot against her icy skin. She led him to the acute care wing and paused outside her father’s room. Through the open doorway, she watched a young male medical tech check the Colonel’s vital signs. The young man jotted the readings on a clipboard. Leaving the room, he nodded to them on his way out. Grant was sitting in a chair by the bed. Seeing Hannah and Brody, he joined them in the hall. He and the family had returned home the day before, and he’d been furious when she’d told him everything that had happened while he was away. But his eyes held no anger this morning.

She looked around him into her father’s room. “How is he?”

Grant lifted a hand. “Maybe a little better. Hard to say.”

“Forgive me yet?” she asked.

“No.” Grant gave her a small smile. “But I still love you. I haven’t heard from Mac. Do you know where he is?”

Hannah shook her head. “No. I haven’t heard from him since I picked up the dog at his place on Saturday night.”

Grant’s mouth tightened as he stepped aside so she could enter the room.

Hannah let out a smooth breath. Channeling Grant, she left her expectations at the door.
Go with the flow.

Brody took her wet coat and hung it on the back of a chair by the door. Stepping up to the bedside, she took in her father’s continued deterioration. His skin looked tighter, almost translucent. His chest rose with a wheeze and deflated with a shudder. How long could he live like this? His life was nothing but misery. Death would be a kindness for him, but the Colonel would never go gently. It was his nature to scratch and claw for one more breath. His fighting spirit was the one trait dementia couldn’t defeat.

His eyelids fluttered and opened. He blinked between her and Brody a few times. Several seconds passed before he focused on her. His lips moved. No words emerged, but his expression changed. Once recognition took hold, his gaze never left her face, as if Brody weren’t there. On the bed, the Colonel’s fingers curled in a
Come here
gesture. Hannah reached out and took his hand. Brody moved a chair behind her, and she lowered her body onto the seat. Brody’s hand on her shoulder grounded her.

The Colonel’s eyes closed again. Every breath seemed as if it could be his last. But an hour later, the pattern eased into deep sleep. His hand relaxed and released Hannah’s. She let go.

In the hallway, Brody held her coat up. Hannah slipped her arms into the sleeves.

He put an arm around her. “That was rough.”

“Yes.” She rested her head on his shoulder, grateful for his support.

They passed the nurses’ station, and Hannah asked, “You’ll call me if he gets any worse?” Her chest constricted with the thought of the Colonel dying alone.

“Of course,” the nurse said.

Brody led her out of the building. Hannah lifted her face to the light rain. The mist refreshed her hot skin.

“Do they know how long he has?” Brody asked.

Hannah sniffed. “His body was ready to give up about a year ago.”

“But he won’t let go.”

“He can’t,” she said simply. “It’s not good or bad. It’s simply the way it is.” When the Colonel was ready, he wouldn’t ease into death. He’d march.

Just as she must concede control of her father’s condition, it was also time to accept all the good and bad from her childhood and move on. Hardship had molded her into a resilient person. The training drills and lessons from her childhood were crazy, but without them, would she have survived her encounter with Mick Arnette? Probably not.

“I’m probably never going to be a warm or fuzzy person,” she said.

Brody raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Where did that come from?”

“I was just thinking about my father and my childhood. Grant has my mother’s innate kindness. My father is a hard man, and I’m more like him than I’d like to admit.”

“I doubt Carson or Faith would agree.” Brody took her hand. “You’re so used to putting on a tough act for your job, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s you. But I know it’s not. Hard people don’t cuddle babies or hug sad little boys. They don’t chase pets in the middle of the night to spare a child some distress. They don’t fly across the country to help lost teenagers. I’ve seen the real Hannah Barrett. She’s pretty spectacular.”

Heat rose into Hannah’s face.

“You are strong and dependable and courageous almost to a fault.” Brody turned to face her. He lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her. “And you’re plenty warm and fuzzy when it matters—and to whom it matters.”