ToServeAndProtect (27 page)

“My ass, too.”

“And that I parked in a neighborhood—”

“And fucked your former person of interest,” she
finished for him. She righted her tank top. “Although, we don’t have to risk
being shot again to have sex.”

“No, there won’t be a next time,” he said starting the
car.

“What?” No sex?

“Getting shot at, Mickey. As for the other, give me
twenty minutes.”

“What about the moving truck? Are we still going?”

Dustin nodded as he pulled out onto Pacific Coast Highway. “We need to find out what Roslyn’s running from. I think we’ll get the
answers from her. First we’ve got to find her, so yeah, we’re still going.”

“Do you think the Marinos will be there?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think they’d be at Roslyn’s.
I’ll tell you what I do know. They won’t have the upper hand again.” His jaw
clenched. She could read his thoughts by his tight-lipped mouth and furrowed
brows. He mentally kicked himself for going into Roslyn’s but more so about
having her with him.

“Well, we have more clues now, so the risk was worth
it.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “Bullshit. I’m supposed to
keep you safe. I need to be smart, think through all options and work out a
contingency plan before charging into another Marino.”

He rolled his shoulders and adjusted in the seat,
becoming the focused steadfast detective again. Sex had a way of sharpening the
senses and giving an edge.

* * * * *

Joe Marino swore as the convertible fishtailed and
drove out of view. Once again he had been a day late and a dollar short. At
this very moment, Robert was rummaging through Ms. Porter and Detective
Pearce’s hotel room. He was supposed to meet him there…with the Porter woman
and the detective. Now he’d have to make a phone call and explain how he once
again failed.

“We missed them,” Joe said to Robert.

“You’ve got one more opportunity. Redford Moving and
Freight in the industrial park.”

* * * * *

Dustin circled the block, finally pulling into the
employee parking lot. Some cars appeared abandoned. Obviously, some drivers
stayed out for long periods of time. Between grimy windshields, rusted fenders,
the shiny convertible wasn’t exactly going to blend in. If the Marino’s knew to
look through Roslyn’s packed possessions, Dustin and McKenna wouldn’t be hard
to spot.

“Wait here,” he said, taking the pencil-sized
flashlight out of the duffel bag.

“No, I’m going everywhere you go.”

He sighed. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll just be gone a
minute. You’ll be able to see me, but stay in this vehicle.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Dustin crouched close to the ground and worked his way
down the line of cars shining the light through the windows. About every other
car, he risked being seen and moved to a position where he could see the
convertible. Above anything else he had to keep McKenna safe.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. As he
slowly opened the door, it creaked on its hinges. Keeping low, he slid into the
car and turned the keys dangling in the ignition. Sputtering and coughing, he
pumped the gas until the old car gurgled to life. Smoke from the tailpipe
looked like dark thunderclouds rolling in over the Oklahoma prairie. He let the
car idle about a minute. There was less than a quarter tank of gas, according
to the gauge idling precariously close to E.

He cut the engine then popped the trunk and took a
dirty shirt from the backseat. Maneuvering to the rear of the car, he left the
shirt partially hanging out and closed the trunk. Now the vehicle would be easy
to recognize if the need arose for alternate transportation.

“Ready?” he asked opening McKenna’s door.

“How are we going to get by the guards?” She nodded
toward the two heads sitting before a small television sipping coffee in the
guard shack at the entrance to the lot.

Dustin tossed the duffel bag over the chain link fence
surrounding the property. Dozens of trucks were parked side by side. “Climb
over.” He held out a hand for McKenna.

“Give me a hotdog. What if there’s a guard dog?”

“They have rent-a-cops. No dogs.”

McKenna linked her fingers in the fence and poked the
toe of her shoe between the wires. She quickly scaled the fence. With his good
leg, Dustin hauled himself three quarters of the way up the eight-foot fence.
At the top, they carefully straddled the rail and climbed down the backside.

“Look for trailer number 412657.” They walked down the
row of trucks. “Put these on.” He handed her a pair of latex gloves.

Numbers were located on the side of every truck.
“Right here, Dustin.” She grabbed the door release handle and yanked open the
back.

“Not that door. Roslyn was the second pick up. Her
stuff will be in the middle.” They walked between the trailers, and Dustin slid
open the middle door. “Work fast, Mickey. I want to be out of here in ten
minutes, and there are a lot of boxes to go through. Scan the contents quickly.
Anything related to her accounting firm, the Marinos, or your father we’re
going to take with us. I’m not about to get caught off guard again.”

“We’re doing a little more than trespassing, this
time. What’ll happen if someone spots us? Not that I’m worried. I’d rather be
in jail than dead.” She climbed into the truck. “Hey, we just got lucky. These
boxes are labeled.” She glanced over her shoulder at Dustin. “I shouldn’t be
surprised. Accountants are meticulously organized.”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll find something that tells us
where she is.” He moved boxes stacking those marked kitchen, bathroom, and
sheets to the side.

“Office!” Excitement made her voice louder.

“Shhh.” He chuckled. “Let’s see what we have.” Dustin
climbed over a box and ripped the packing tape from the top. Stacked neatly on
top were pastel colored jewel cases with cd-r’s labeled with last names.

Dustin grabbed a stack and quickly flipped through the
names. “Marino,” he whispered. “Mickey.” He showed her the disc with her last
name. They had the proof they needed. Roslyn represented both the Marinos and
Dr. Porter. It was possible there were others involved. “We’ll take all of
these,” he said, placing them into the duffel bag.

“I know it’s a little late to be concerned, but
shouldn’t we have a search warrant?”

“Technically, yes.” He glanced at her and grinned. “We
wouldn’t be granted one. We don’t know what we’re looking for. Judges frown on
fishing expeditions.”

McKenna continued to shine her flashlight on the boxes
looking for those that could contain relevant information while Dustin finished
digging in the box marked office.

“What did you find?” he asked when he heard the tape
coming off another box.

“Photo albums.” She unpacked a picture frame protected
in bubble wrap. “I want to know what she looks like.” McKenna stared at a young
woman smiling brightly on some tropical island resort. Large hotels towered in
the background, and white sand beaches stretched to surreal green water so
clear it looked painted. “Look at her.”

Dustin squatted behind her. “Not what I expected.”
Smile as bright as the sun, dark hair dancing with the wind coming off the sea,
Roslyn appeared in her early thirties.

“What does a woman like this have in common with an
ornery doctor who never wanted to have fun?”

“Put it back, Mickey.” He placed his hand gently on
her shoulder. She nodded and then picked up another frame from the box. A
floppy eared, soaking wet, cocker spaniel sat in the bathtub of the house
they’d just run from.

“I don’t even know her, but I hate her.” She put the
pictures back in the box.

“To be expected. Elliot gave to her what he could
never show you.” Dustin stilled as his penlight skimmed across a sheet of
paper.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said stuffing it into his duffel. At
least nothing he was ready to show her. “We’ll sort it all out later. Come on.
Times up. We’ve got to get out of here.” He quickly stacked boxes on top of the
ones they’d pillaged.

“What about those?” she said, pointing to another six
boxes.

“No time.” With the duffel bag over his shoulder, he
dropped to the ground. “Shh.” He put his fingers to his lips. Hugging the side
of the trailer, they made their way back toward the fence.

The parking lot looked dark and deserted just as
before. As Dustin was about to step from the shadows, he caught the scent of
cigarette smoke. He inhaled through his nose and tried to detect the direction
of the smell. A glint of red captured in the reflection of a side mirror drew
Dustin’s eye. Smoke drifted from the nondescript windowless utility van.

“We can’t wait them out.” McKenna stood close to
Dustin. “They know we’re here.” The convertible was in the direct line of sight
for whoever was in the van. The problem at the moment, Dustin’s backup scenario
wasn’t feasible either. The van was parked directly across from the beater with
the T-shirt hanging out of the trunk. Trying to formulate another plan, Dustin
leaned back against the trailer and closed his eyes.

“I have an idea.” McKenna bent down and grabbed a
handful of dirt. Then she wiped her palms on the front of her jeans and ran her
fingers through her hair a few times. “Do I look dirty? Put a smudge on my
face.”

“Why?” He did as she asked.

“I told you, I have a plan. I’ll be back.”

“Where in the hell do you think you’re going? Are you
going to waltz up to the van and ask them to give us a thirty second head
start?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She put her arms around his
neck and laced her fingers. “Kiss me.” She pulled his lips to hers and opened
her mouth.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he deepened the
kiss. Tongues tangled and bodies aligned. Blood rushed to his groin. His cock
responded, but his stomach still knotted with fear. His hands cupped her
buttocks, pulse racing.

With a moan, she broke the kiss. Her dilated eyes
tried to focus on his face. Passion flushed her cheeks.

“Wish me luck.” She sprinted across the parking lot,
heading directly toward the guard shack.

“Shit.” Dustin swore a few more choice words under his
breath. “What in the hell is she up to?”

McKenna ran hard. She wanted to appear winded when she
reached the little box of a building housing the security team. She pounded on
the sliding glass door. Trying to appear agitated, she glanced from the parking
lot to the security guard then pounded again. “Help me,” she pleaded through
the glass. The shorter of the two men rushed to the door and slid the glass
open.

“Thank you.” She stumbled into the building, deserving
an award for her performance. Putting her hand to her chest, she took deep
breaths and collapsed into a chair.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Can I have a glass of water?” she
whispered as she tried to make her eyes fill with tears. She thought of the
time Dawn ran over a neighborhood cat. She thought of Scott…Elliot…the lies and
the murder. Tears fell onto her cheeks.

“Do you need an ambulance?”

“No,” she said on a shaky exhale. “I’m sure it’s
nothing. Just my imagination running wild. At least I hope there isn’t any
trouble.”

“We’re not cops.”

“I’m sure I just spooked myself, and that I’m
overreacting. There was this van. I thought it was following me.” She inhaled
deeply, pretending to catch her breath. “I jumped the fence and ran in here.
Suddenly I feel stupid because I think they work here.” She glanced out the
sliding doors into the night. “I saw the van pull into the employee parking
lot.”

The short guy spoke to his partner. “Stay with her.”
He grabbed a flashlight. “What color did you say the van was?”

“White, but it’s dirty and some of the paint is
chipped. You don’t think they work here?”

The guard checked his two-way radio and opened the
sliding doors. “We have a schedule of the trucks coming in and going out. Next
driver isn’t due in until six. Sit tight while I check out the parking lot. Can
Charlie call you a cab to take you home?”

She turned her attention to the other guard and
nodded. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

A security guard shined a flashlight back and forth
from one car to the next.

Dustin hunkered down in the shadow of the trailer.
“What did you tell them?” he whispered into the night. McKenna must have weaved
a tale to get the rent-a-cops out of their hut.

The security officer approached the van. “This is
private property,” he hollered, shining the light through the windshield.

“We’re waitin’ for a buddy to get off.”

Dustin didn’t recognize the voice, but then Joe Marino
leaned his head out of the window.

“Nobody is scheduled to get off for a few hours.
What’s your buddy’s name?” The guard brought the two-way radio close to his
mouth. “I’ll check on a time. You can come back then.”