The Last Execution (19 page)

Sherrod rolled her eyes then shook J.T.’s hand.

“I’ll send you our report. Unless she gets something we missed, we’re at zero.”

“Thanks, I appreciate you guys.” J.T. moved over and listened to Olivia wrap up the interview. She gave her card to the man and sent him on his way.

“They were no help,” she said without waiting for J.T. to ask. “The stories were the same, they heard the gun shot, hit the ground, and stayed down for a few minutes. None of them could say where the shot came from.”

“The victim’s wife is in Fairmont Hospital. Leigh’s here, we’ll head over there.”

“I’ll interview the witness in the ambulance and then head home.”

“Good enough.” J.T. had to try his hand at playing cupid. “You made quite an impression on Harlan King. He’s crushing. Hard.”

J.T. left before Olivia denied the flattered look on her face and walked around to Leigh who had her pad out making notes.

“Where’s your cousin?” He did a visual scan of the area.

“Gone.” Leigh didn’t look up from her writing.

“Did they find the bullet?”

“Yeah.” She thumbed through a couple of pages before glancing up at him.

“You tell them to ship it to Quantico?”

“No. I said we’d want to take a look.”

“Good. You want to ride with me? I’ll bring you back to your car.”

“Where to?”

“The hospital.”

“It’s late. The wife will be asleep.”

“The nurses won’t.”

“I’ll meet you at the front entrance.”

“Suits me.” J.T. spun on his heels and headed for his ’Vette shaking his head. Talk about a down and dirty conversation. No way of knowing how he managed to piss her off.

Blow it off.

****

Wednesday, May 5, 3:30 a.m.

Jason’s eyes opened fast when he realized the throwaway cell was ringing. He rolled to the side of the bed and answered. “This better be important,” he whispered.

“She’s on the move and alone.” Vick spoke rapidly. “She got a call around midnight. I drove out to the address they gave her.”

“And?” Jason glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping woman in his bed.

“Some guy got his head blown off.”

“You imbecile. I don’t give a shit about the dead man. Talk to me about Leigh.”

“She left the crime scene, but she ain’t headed toward her house.”

“You followed her?”

“Yeah. I’m about half a mile behind her on Peachtree Boulevard. The road is deserted.”

Jason walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Vick sounded way too chipper. “Are you fucking high?”

“No, man. Well, maybe a snort. You know, to keep my reflexes sharp.”

“Is your shit together enough to test her driving skills?”

“Fuckin’ A. Long as you pay to fix any damage done to my pickup.”

“Just don’t kill her. And don’t call me back. I’ll be busy.” Jason ended the call, took a leak, and went back to bed. He slid in behind his secretary, reached around and squeezed her plump tit. She moaned and pushed her boob into his hand. Good thing she liked pain, because he’d given her plenty last night.

“What time is it?” she mumbled as she rolled to check the clock on the nightstand.

“Time to party.” He wanted her wide-awake in case he needed an alibi.

****

Wednesday, May 5, 3:40 a.m.

Leigh sipped the strong Stop-n-Go coffee. She’d taken the side streets while J.T. had roared full speed onto I-85 toward the hospital. She needed to think. Why had he called Olivia? Leigh worked the previous crime scene with him. Had she not been good enough? Was she being overly sensitive? Shit. What was she thinking? She wasn’t a real member of the team. She was Atlanta CID, the liaison, an outsider. She wasn’t a part of the Federal family. J.T. could call who he wanted. Period.

A light rain had started, not heavy, just enough that she turned on her windshield wipers. The streets were slick and deserted. The usually busy hospital district seemed to have bedded down for the night.

Leigh turned the radio up when she heard the announcer break in about tonight’s sniper attack. Bright headlights came out of nowhere, blinding her vision in the rearview mirror. The vehicle streaked past and then pulled right in front of her. Red brake lights flashed. The pickup cut too close. Leigh hit her brakes and turned her steering wheel to the right to move into the empty lane. Her left front fender clipped the truck’s rear bumper. Leigh’s tire traction broke on the wet road and the rear of her car swung around. Fear and hot coffee exploded simultaneously. She took her foot off the brake and tried to steer into the skid too late. The seatbelt tightened, preventing her body from slamming against the door. The steering wheel jerked out of her hands. The car careened out of control.

Seconds turned into an eternity as life shifted to a crawl, and the world moved in slow motion. No! Her mind raced, her thoughts shifting to Ethan.

Steel crunched and creaked as the right side of her car crashed into a streetlight. The airbag exploded in her face. Coughing and gasping, she pushed at the already deflating bag. Her pulse hammered against her ribs. Breath burst in and out of her chest in gasps. She hit the seatbelt and let out a sigh of relief when the buckle released. Freedom. She pushed to open the door and failed. Terror clawed through her brain. The other half of her car was bent around the lamppost, and the bow in her car had messed up the driver’s side, too.
Trapped.
She fought back the panic pulsing through her veins.
No hysteria. Not now. Get to safety.

“Are you hurt?” a male voice asked.

A scream released before she could stop it. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I called 9-1-1. Stay calm. Let’s try to open the door.”

She pushed with her shoulder while he pulled. The lock gave and the door opened. The opening wasn’t big enough for her to slip out. He placed one foot against the car and tried again. Groaning as if in pain, the metal surrendered a few more inches. Leigh sucked in a deep breath and squeezed through. She put her feet on the ground only to find her knees had turned to rubber.

The stranger’s arm wrapped around her. “Here, now. Can’t have you falling down.”

Maybe fifty, he wasn’t a lot taller than Leigh. He shouldered her weight and helped her to the curb, easing her down. He knelt in front of her, and his kind brown eyes did a quick visual inspection.

Thunder shook the pavement. Lighting shattered the dark, racing through the sky. Leigh and the stranger looked to the heavens as the rain came down in buckets.

“You’ve got a few scratches, and you’ll be stiff in the morning.”

“I’ll bet.” Leigh welcomed the wetness on her face, hoping it would help calm her mind.

“Nothing appears to be broken.” He frowned and leaned closer. “Your face and neck are bruised.”

“Yeah. It’s beginning to look like I have a target on my back.” She offered him a trembling hand. “I’m Leigh.”

His grip was strong and steady. “Doyle. And I might be able to help you.”

His name struck her hard. “Doyle Preston?”

Could it be? She tried to push herself to her feet, but found her knees too weak to support her. His expression shifted from kind to panic. He stood and ran.

“Wait,” she called out. A second try to stand left her sprawled on the curb.

Had she just let the killer escape?

****

Wednesday, May 5, 4:00 a.m.

Doyle’s frayed nerves and fractured thoughts bounced all over the place. His hands trembled as he parked. Had fate sent him down the back roads to the car wreck? No way could he have driven past and not stopped to help. The driver of the pickup who hit her certainly hadn’t stopped to render aid.

He hadn’t recognized the woman at first. Not until he remembered overhearing her conversation. Hadn’t concerned himself because she was a cop. He’d thought she could take care of herself. Well, maybe fate had just proven him wrong.

The young cop believed someone was out to get her. Maybe she was right. He’d have to look into it further. The universe had a way of pointing him in the right direction.

A cold knot formed and settled in the pit of his stomach as he hurried inside. What if the supervisor had been looking for him? He frantically tried to think of a viable excuse for not being on the job. Lies on top of more lies.

Could he keep up the façade? For the abused women, he’d try. For the promise made to his dead wife, he’d succeed.

Chapter Fourteen

Wednesday, May 5, 4:30 a.m.

Sitting in the back of the ambulance, Leigh’s anxiety eased when J.T. parked and stepped out of his car. Again, he’d responded to her call for help without question. Long, deliberate strides brought him closer and closer through the torrential downpour. His dark expression dared anyone to stop him. Rain soaked, his white shirt clung to every sinew and muscle. J.T. stopped two feet away, breathing harsh and uneven. His gaze scrutinized her body. Apparently satisfied she wasn’t injured, the lines on his beautiful face relaxed as he extended his hands.

Leigh slid from the tailgate into the safety of his powerful arms. His head bowed and rested on top of hers. She leaned into his chest, listened to his heart pound, and drew from his strength while rain sluiced over them.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, pressing her face harder against him.

“Count on it.” His words were thick and husky. “What happened?”

She repeated everything she’d said to the patrolman, adding how the accident felt deliberate. When she told him about the man who helped her, J.T.’s gaze never left her face. She babbled, unable to stop, and he listened patiently.

“My memory’s a little fuzzy, and I probably sound crazy. I’m sure he said his name was Doyle.” She shoved the wet hair off her face. “And he favored the pictures of Doyle Preston. Or did the name association screw with my mind?” Had chance dropped the sniper in her lap? Again, she blinked her eyes, tried to clear her blurry head.

“My Good Samaritan paled at the sight of my badge and gun. All of a sudden he needed to go. He stood and ran toward a car parked down the block. I yelled for him to wait.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Obviously, he didn’t.”

“Then you called me?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe the guy did look like him. You were shaken up and weak-kneed, no way you could have stopped him.” J.T. tucked a dripping strand of hair behind her ear. “Short of shooting him in the back.” His eyebrows went up, he grinned, and his dimple sunk in.

Leigh laughed at his out-of-character attempt at humor. “I’ll admit my knees gave out. I couldn’t stand, much less aim.”

“Let’s check with the EMTs. If you don’t need to go to the hospital, I’m taking you home.”

“I need a wrecker to pick up my car.”

“I’ll get one of the cops to call.” J.T.’s arm slid around her. “Put your weight on me.”

He returned her to the waiting medical technicians and the Atlanta patrol officers. Within minutes, she’d signed a release for the ambulance driver and thanked everybody for their help.

Snuggled tight against him, their shoes squished as they crossed the street on the way to his car. Leigh stopped him when they reached the sidewalk. “We can’t get in your Corvette like this.”

“As much as I love my car, the other option is against the law.” His deep-throated chuckle vibrated his ribcage against her.

“I wasn’t suggesting we get naked,” she quickly added. The heat from his green-eyed stare seared right through her.

“Come on.” He looked down at her through wet eyelashes as he hoisted her closer, resting her weight against him.

“But...” Tucked tight against his body, she relished having his arm around her.

“Stop worrying. The seats are leather, and you’re shivering.”

“Nerves. Reality’s setting in.” Her teeth chattered.

“Hang on, there’s a windbreaker in the trunk.”

Leigh wrapped his jacket around her and huddled in the seat. He started the car, shoved his wet, black hair off his face. The corners of his mouth tilted upward. His scar wrinkled. Leigh’s heart sank when he looked away.

Did he think she cared he had a scar? She clamped her hand on his bicep. “Don’t turn away from me.”

He grunted, revved the car engine, and drove toward the freeway. “I try to forget the damn thing’s there.”

“You should forget. I think you’re beautiful.”

The nerve in his jaw twitched, and he remained quiet until they reached the freeway.

“Men aren’t beautiful,” he muttered softly.

Leigh let his comment slide. He was wrong. Besides, she’d slipped back into cheerleader mode. She cautioned herself against allowing her heart to do multiple cartwheels. A mother should steer away from hero worship.

In spite of the warm night, J.T. turned on the heater full blast, and then shifted the Corvette into supersonic. Highway signs whizzed by while Leigh did her best to stop shivering. The interior of the car had to be frying his brain, yet her bones were still cold. Weird, it was warm outside. He’d shot down an off ramp before Leigh realized they were in the parking garage of his apartment building.

“Why did we come here?”

“My place was closer. You’re freezing. One way or the other, those clothes are coming off.”