Watch Your Back (28 page)

Robinette made sure his holster was unencumbered. He wouldn’t use the gun unless he had to, but if he did have to, he wanted fast access.

He waited for the cop to walk past the door, reached out, grabbed the cop’s head and . . . 
Twist
. Robinette gave a good jerk, the sound of the cop’s neck breaking filling him with intense satisfaction. He dropped the cop to the floor with a thud and listened.

The laundry room door creaked open slowly. The partners had separated, each taking a different door. Robinette crossed the room as the partner entered, grabbed his head and . . .

Twist.
Another one bit the dust. It was his specialty, honed over years in the desert. Henderson had been their marksman. Westmoreland’s weapon of choice had always been a dagger. Fletcher, poison. Robinette’s most lethal weapons were his own bare hands. But, like Westmoreland, he liked knives, too. Guns were the weapon of last resort.

He slit their throats to make sure they were dead. Taking their radios, he grabbed his backpack, pulled the sliding door closed, then exited through the garage, the same way he’d come in. Anyone who saw him now would see only a workman. He pushed the ski mask up under the cap, keeping his head down. Then he got in his Tahoe and drove away.

His former team might believe he’d gotten soft. Robinette suspected the two dead cops in Maynard’s living room would disagree.

Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 12.25
P.M.

Clay wrapped a towel around his hips as he’d left his clothes in the cabin with Stevie. Bracing himself for another confrontation, he stepped out of the boat’s small head into the cabin.

It was unoccupied.

The bed had been made, military-grade creases in the spread. The files on which they’d worked had been packed into the rolling suitcase, which sat at the base of the stairs. His clothes were neatly draped over a chair, right down to his socks. His shoes had been precisely aligned. On the table where they’d worked was his cell phone, also precisely aligned.

Stevie, her laptop, and her cane were gone. With the exception of the large suitcase, no one would have known she’d ever been there.

Clay sniffed his fingers, relieved when the dominant scent was that of the soap. But she was still there, underneath the Old Spice.
Get her out of your mind. Now
.

He dressed quickly, then checked his phone. Snarled. Five missed calls, eight missed texts, most in the last five minutes. He couldn’t even take a damn cold shower without someone bothering him. Then he frowned. The calls were all from Paige as were half the texts – and his business partner was not the hysterical type.

As soon as he looked at the other texts, he knew exactly what had happened. On any other day he would have been stunned. Shocked into immobility. But this wasn’t any other day.

Someone had broken into his house, the alarm system sending the texts to his phone.

‘Shit.’ He grabbed the suitcase and muscled it up the stairs. Once on the dock, he broke into a run, dragging it behind him as he speed-dialed Paige.

‘Where have you been?’ she demanded.

‘Busy,’ he bit out. ‘I need details and I need them now.’

Sunday, March 16, 12.30
P.M.

Stevie went into the house and directly up the stairs, hoping Emma would take the hint and leave her and her damn hickey alone. No such luck.

‘What leads did you find?’ Emma asked, sticking behind her all the way up the stairs.

‘The leak’s IA.’ Stevie tried to close the bedroom door but Emma pushed her way in.

‘Slow down a second,’ Emma said, sitting on the bed. ‘Let’s talk details.’

Stevie slanted her a warning look as she searched for a turtle-neck, throwing clothes from her bag every which way. ‘Must we?’

‘Yes, we must. You said you found the leak,’ she said. ‘Who?’

Stevie told her about Scott Culp. ‘Which explains a lot about the lack of urgency in IA’s investigations over the last year. Dammit. No turtlenecks.’ Too bad she hadn’t packed for sex. Which she technically had not had.
At least there’s that
. ‘Do you have anything in your suitcase that won’t cost me a month’s salary to replace?’

‘No, but you can borrow it anyway.’ Emma took the scarf off Stevie’s neck and shook her head. ‘How could you not know Clay did that to you?’

‘I was busy.’ Orgasming. ‘Just . . . fix it, okay? And stop grinning at me.’

‘Sorry. I’m glad you had fun.’ But when Stevie didn’t reply, Emma stopped rummaging through her bag and turned with a frown. ‘You didn’t have fun. Did he . . . Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. He just . . .’ Stevie sighed. ‘He’s got issues. Can you let me leave it at that?’

‘For now,’ Emma said softly. ‘As long as you don’t shut me out forever.’

‘I don’t shut people out.’

Emma laughed bitterly. ‘Oh right. And I’m a basketball star.’ She tossed a sweater on the bed. ‘Take off your shirt.’

Stevie scowled. ‘I can dress myself, Mom.’

‘You’re bleeding, Stevie. Let me fix you. I don’t want you bleeding all over my sweater,’ she added lightly, but Stevie heard the underlying concern.

Silently, Stevie pulled the shirt over her head, not letting herself think about doing so in front of Clay. She was
so
not thinking about it. Hell. Now that’s all she could think about.

Emma made a distressed noise. ‘You pulled out two stitches. Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Emma,’ she murmured wearily. ‘Please.’

Emma muttered something about Stevie not having the sense to come in out of the rain. ‘Stay here. I have to get the peroxide.’ She was back in less than a minute and proceeded to change Stevie’s bandage with capable hands, all humor gone.

‘You’re sure you’re not a medical doctor?’ Stevie asked, trying to lighten the mood.

‘I’ve got two boys that love to wrestle. I know all about bandages.’ She grabbed the Kevlar vest that Hyatt had given Stevie the night before and guided Stevie’s injured arm into one sleeve, waiting while Stevie shoved her good arm in the other, then fastening the vest’s Velcro ties.

‘What if I bleed on your sweater?’

‘Goddamn you, Stevie,’ Emma said, her teeth clenched. ‘You’re an idiot.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You’re going out there where people are trying to kill you while you’re not thinking clearly. You’re upset by Clay, which has left you off-balance. You’ve already accepted that you’ll bleed again.
Damn you
. You are not bullet-proof and I don’t want to bury you.’

Emma was crying and Stevie blew out a breath, stared at the cashmere sweater in her hands, then frowned, her focus shifting. ‘You didn’t have that suitcase last night.’

Emma blinked at her through her tears, her expression incredulous. ‘You ignored everything I just said.’

Yes, she had. Because something wasn’t right. ‘Where did the suitcase come from, Emma?’

Emma shook her head. ‘If you’re so desperate not to face your own mortality, fine. We’ll talk about stupid suitcases. Joseph’s agents brought it this morning when they changed shifts. Paige sent it with them. She stayed in my hotel room last night and repacked my things.’

Stevie’s brain started to click. ‘Hold on. Paige was in your room last night before you met me on the road. She discovered the mess in your hotel room, not you. Where were you?’

Emma’s eyes snapped with fury. ‘Clay and I went straight from your house to the gun range. Clay wanted me to prove I could handle a firearm so that I could guard your child. Which I did prove, thank you very much. Paige dropped us off there, then dropped Alec at their office, then went to my hotel to pack my things. She found my room had been broken into.’

‘When? When did you do all of this?’

‘While JD was driving you around, ensuring you lost any tails and giving all of your friends time to get together in one place.’

Stevie heard the rage in Emma’s voice and ignored it. ‘You planned to come with me all along, even though I told you to go the hell
home
. And Clay knew. He manipulated me. Again.’

‘Uh-huh, he did.’ Emma’s chin came up, her eyes narrowed. ‘He’s also responsible for the adoration of Justin Bieber. He’s a freaking mind control expert.’

Stevie clenched her cane, pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’m serious.’

‘You’re also
wrong
.’ Emma got in her face until they were nose to nose. ‘Nobody manipulates you into doing anything. You do exactly what you want to do. Did we obey your orders? No. Did we try to support you? Help you? Guilty as charged, so beat me senseless. But we did not manipulate you. Anything you’ve done for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve wanted to do, and if anyone tries to help you, you push them away.’

Stevie was trembling again, which made her even angrier. She pulled the cashmere sweater over the Kevlar vest, adjusting the collar so that it covered the hickey. ‘I’m sorry I upset you,’ she said rigidly. ‘I’ll be back later this evening and we can discuss it then.’

Not waiting for a reply, she shouldered her backpack and made it down the stairs where she found the Escalade’s keys on the kitchen counter where Clay had left them the night before.

‘Cordelia?’ she called. ‘Where are you?’

Cordelia ran in from the laundry room, her smile big. ‘Right here, Mom. Playing with the puppies.’ Her smile abruptly disappeared. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To meet with Uncle JD. It’s not dangerous and I’ll be back before you know it.’ She pulled Cordelia close. ‘I have to make things safe for us again. So we can go home.’

Cordelia launched herself at Stevie, holding on hard. ‘Mama, I don’t want to go home.’

Stevie closed her eyes. She didn’t have time for this. But how could she
not
have time for this? ‘I know you like it here, and I know you like Mr Maynard, but we can’t stay here forever.’

‘I know. But I don’t want to go home. Can we get a new home?’

‘A different house?’ Stevie asked, surprised.

‘Yes. Can we?’

I hate that kitchen
. In her mind Stevie could hear Cordelia’s whispered confession to Clay the night before and his murmured response.
I’d hate that kitchen, too, if I were you
.

Stevie felt the panic grip her chest. She and Paul had chosen that house together, scrimping and saving for the down payment. They’d worked hard to renovate, repair. He was all over that house. She couldn’t lose it. It would be like losing him, all over again.

But her baby was shaking. ‘Yes, we can. We can get a different house.’

Cordelia drew back, stunned disbelief in her eyes.
She’d thought I’d say no. That I’d choose the house over her
. ‘Really?’

‘Really. You are more important than any old house. It has a lot of memories, good and bad. We’ll find a new house and make new memories. You and me. When I get back from the city, we’ll go online and look at houses, okay?’

Cordelia beamed. ‘Can Aunt Izzy come, too?’

‘Of course.’

Cordelia’s brows lifted. ‘Can we get a dog?’

Stevie laughed, stunned that she still could. ‘Now you’re pushin’ it. Give me a kiss.’

Cordelia smacked a loud one on her cheek. ‘That should hold me for a while. Get Mr Tanner to lock the door behind me. Tell him I had to go into the city, but I’ll be back soon. I love you.’

‘Love you, too, Mama.’

‘Stevie.’ Tanner thundered down the stairs. ‘
Wait
. Do
not
leave this house.’

Stevie glared at the ceiling.
Emma, you damn tattletale
. ‘Can’t wait,’ she called. ‘Gotta go.’

Hurrying into the garage, Stevie climbed into the Escalade, adjusted the seat, fully aware she’d been holding her breath.
Get it over with.
When she inhaled, she smelled Clay, like she’d known she would. The scent of his aftershave had lingered.

I can smell you
. She clenched her thighs when the warmth between them began to throb. She could see his face, intent in its passion, then . . . Nothing. His expression had gone blank. Like he’d been zapped with the freeze-frame button on a remote.
Why are you here?

Why had she been? Had she been manipulated? Or had she been in complete control of her actions the entire time? ‘I don’t push people away,’ she said to the quiet interior of the SUV.

But she sounded unconvinced, even to herself. With a tired sigh, she pushed the button to activate the garage door.
Time to go to work
. So why did it seem like she was running away?

When the door had fully opened, she started the engine and began to pull out of the garage. Only to have the door come back down. Bracing for an argument with Clay’s father, she turned in her seat . . . and froze.

Not the father, but the son. Clay opened the passenger door, got in and slammed the door hard enough to shake the SUV. His expression was furious, his face as hard as stone. He hit the garage door control button and stared straight ahead as the door went up again.

‘Drive, Detective. As fast as you can.’

Chapter Fourteen

Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 12.30
P.M.

S
am Hudson stared at his cell phone as it vibrated its way across the dining room table in his apartment. After dropping the gun off at Ballistics, he’d gone to check on his mother. Then he’d come home, knowing if he stayed at his mother’s house long enough, she’d sense his disquiet and nag him until he told her what was bothering him.

He couldn’t say the words out loud to anyone, least of all to his mother.
I may have killed your worthless junkie husband, Mom
.

No, he couldn’t be around his mother today.

Instead he’d sat in his apartment watching the phone that now buzzed with an incoming call. From within the police department. Probably from Ballistics.

Paralyzed, Sam watched his phone skitter across the table until the call went to voicemail. He picked the phone up, connected with his voicemail and listened, holding his breath.

‘Sam, it’s Dina. I got a hit on that gun. Call me or stop by. I’m here ’til four.’

Damn. Until now, he’d been able to compartmentalize the gun as being simply ‘recently fired’. Now, it was ‘used in the commission of a crime’.

Be a man, Sam. Get off your ass and go to Dina’s office
. Find out who or from what they’d pulled the bullet that matched . . . that gun. And if the crime committed was a homicide?

I’ll deal with that when I come to it
.

Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 12.40
P.M.

Drive, Detective. As fast as you can
.

Stevie considered making Clay explain, but a glance at his profile made her nix the idea. He was tense, little white lines bracketing his mouth, and somehow she knew this wasn’t about them.

She pulled around the FBI agents’ vehicle and headed for the main road. ‘I’ll drive as fast as I can, but I can’t legally use the flashers, Clay. I’m on disability. I don’t even have my badge. If we get stopped, we’ll be screwed.’

‘We’ll have a police escort. Just get to the highway.’

What the . . . ?
‘Okay. Figure out which of these switches works the dash flashers. Then check the glove box and see if Joseph has a portable.’

Ten seconds later, he’d activated the emergency flashing lights built into Joseph’s dash. A minute later, he’d smacked a portable flashing blue light on the roof.

The side roads were deserted, so Stevie increased their speed, way over the legal limit. ‘Who’s our escort and where will they meet us?’

‘Lou Moore. She’s on her way toward Queen Anne Highway. She’ll lead us from there.’

Of course it would be Sheriff Moore.
Let it go, Mazzetti. Just let it go
. ‘Lead us where?’

‘Across the Bay Bridge, back to Baltimore. Once we get over the bridge, we’ll get another escort. I don’t know who yet,’ he added brusquely, before she could ask.

‘Okay. Tell me what’s happened.’

‘Somebody broke into my place.’

She flicked him a surprised glance. ‘Home or your office?’

‘My house. I have a silent alarm that goes to my cell. If I don’t respond, it alerts my backup. That’s Paige. She’s called the cops and is on her way to my place right now.’

‘First Emma’s hotel room, now your house. They’re looking for me.’

‘Yeah.’

I’m sorry
, she wanted to say, but didn’t. He’d find some way of bending an apology to his advantage. ‘Given the James Bond setup here, I’m surprised anyone got into your house.’

‘Me, too.’

Okay
. It appeared she’d have to work for any information. ‘How was the alarm tripped?’

‘One or more of three ways.’

She blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Which are what?’

‘A cell phone signal that isn’t mine, body heat, or a simple breaking of the contacts on the door or windows.’

‘Do you have one of those fancy security doors?’

‘I do.’

She started to snap at him, but knew that wouldn’t help. ‘If it was their cell phone, can your system access its drive? Get a name, provider, contacts? Anything that might help us ID him?’

She felt him shift, turn to look at her. She kept her eyes on the road.

‘Maybe,’ he said, finally. He sound grudgingly impressed.

‘Do they have to make a call to trigger the alarm, or is it just the signal itself?’

‘Just the signal.’ He turned back to the window, silent again.

Stevie drove like a demon for another ten minutes, but had to slow when they approached the city limits of Wight’s Landing. Traffic parted when drivers saw the Escalade’s flashers, but being a beautiful Sunday afternoon, it seemed all the town’s residents had gathered on Main Street. Finally they cleared the town and saw the sheriff’s car waiting.

Sheriff Moore took the lead and they were off again.

He made a quick move, answering his cell phone. ‘Paige,’ he said. ‘I’m in the car with Stevie. I’m going to put you on speaker.’

‘I’m at your place,’ Paige said, slamming a car door. ‘Peabody, with me. And no comments about me taking my drooling dog into your house.’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ Clay said evenly. ‘If somebody’s broken in, I want you to have all the protection you can get.’

‘Now I’m at your front door and . . . I don’t hear a thing. No cops, no nothing.’

‘I thought you called the cops a half-hour ago.’

‘I did,’ Paige said. ‘There’s a cruiser parked on the curb.’ A beat of silence, a jangle of keys, then a tight exhale. ‘Oh, no,’ she whispered.

Oh God
, Stevie thought.
Now what?

‘What is it, Paige?’ Clay demanded when his partner said no more.

Paige cleared her throat. ‘The officers appear to be dead. Two of them.’

Clay paled. ‘Get out of the house, Paige,’ he said, teeth clenched.

‘I never went in. I’m headed back to my truck. I’ll lock myself in and I have a gun. I have to call 911 now. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.’

Paige disconnected, leaving Stevie and Clay in utter, stunned silence.

Then Stevie leaned on the accelerator. ‘Call Sheriff Moore. Tell her we need to go faster.’

Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 1.18
P.M.

Paige was waiting in front of Clay’s house. ‘Both cops are confirmed dead. CSU’s in there now, along with Joseph, Hyatt, and the ME. A few of Joseph’s people are around back.’

‘How did they die?’ Clay asked, after making sure that Stevie was on the front porch where she was sheltered on three sides by the house. His body blocked her from the street so that she was completely protected. That this had been a ruse to lure him home – with Stevie in tow – had occurred to him right away.

‘I saw slit throats,’ Paige said. ‘I don’t know anything else. Hyatt took my statement and said I was free to leave.’ She regarded Clay with a concerned eye. ‘Are you okay?’

His partner knew him too well. ‘I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.’

‘Well, you’re not gonna sleep here tonight. I imagine they’ll have this place tied up as a crime scene for several days. Are you going back tonight to wherever you were last night?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll keep the Mazzettis safe until this is over.’

‘Well, if you need a place to stay later on, our house is always open. You know that.’ Paige looked at Stevie. ‘You, too. Grayson and I are worried about you guys.’

‘We’re okay,’ Stevie said quietly. ‘But thanks.’

She wasn’t okay, Clay was certain of that. When he’d climbed into the Escalade back at his dad’s house, she’d been furious, but instantly became a professional when she realized what was needed. More of a professional than Clay had been. He’d been sullen, uncommunicative.

Because it hurt
. Being in the same vehicle with her for those forty minutes had sent acid churning through his gut and started a dull throbbing behind his eyes. But he had bigger problems than his gut, his head, or even his heart.

Two men were dead. Added to the three women from yesterday . . .

‘You shouldn’t go into the office until we know it’s safe,’ he said. ‘If they broke in here, they may have tried to break into the office, too.’

Paige shook her head. ‘They haven’t yet. I asked Hyatt to send a cruiser to check the office. It hasn’t been touched. I imagine the uniforms will stay there for a while, in case whoever did this does try to break in. With Alyssa out of town and Alec up at Daphne’s place, none of us need to go into the office right now. I texted them both, though, and told them to stay away. Just covering the bases.’

‘Good. Thanks.’ At least his people were safe. For now. ‘I want everyone checking in, every hour. No exceptions. Where are you going from here?’

‘To the airport. Emma’s husband’s here. I was supposed to have picked him up already. I’ll keep in contact, but I want you to do the same. Come on, Peabody.’

Clay watched to make sure she got into her truck safely, then turned when his front door was opened by Lieutenant Hyatt.

‘Come in,’ Hyatt said, motioning Clay and Stevie inside. Joseph Carter and Agent Brodie from VCET’s forensic lab crouched next to one of the bodies, talking to Neil Quartermaine, the medical examiner.

The slain officers lay on Clay’s living room carpet, near the sliding glass door that led to his deck.
They’d been so young
, he thought.
What a waste
.

‘Neither of them over thirty,’ Hyatt said and Clay realized he’d voiced his thoughts aloud.

‘What happened?’ Clay asked.

Joseph looked up. ‘We think the attacker was standing against that wall. He hit one, then the other, before either of them could make a distress call.’

The two cops lay on their stomachs, heads turned at an unnatural angle. Throats slit ear to ear. ‘No blood spatter,’ Clay said. ‘They were dead when he cut them.’

Agent Brodie looked up. ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

‘He broke their necks first,’ Quartermaine said. Still fairly new to the Baltimore ME’s office, he’d taken over JD’s wife’s position when Lucy went on maternity leave last December. His first day on the job had been that fateful day, in fact. The day Stevie had been shot.

Now Stevie stood off to the side, her eyes sharp as she took in the bodies, the room.
My things.
He’d dreamed of the day he’d bring her to his home, sharing what he’d accumulated over the years. Sharing himself. He never pictured her standing over two dead bodies.

‘And these guys had muscular necks,’ Quartermaine was saying. ‘They were in good physical condition. Probably lifted weights regularly. Your killer is strong, likely experienced in hand-to-hand. We could be looking at a professional fighter or someone with a military background.’ He shook his head. ‘Although
I
sure didn’t learn that in the military.’

‘I did,’ Joseph said quietly.

‘So did I,’ Hyatt added.

Clay shrugged. ‘Because I have an unshakeable alibi, I’ll add my “So did I”.’

‘I almost feel left out,’ Quartermaine muttered, making Joseph smile grimly.

‘Have you ever actually done it?’ Hyatt asked Clay and Joseph, more than idle curiosity in the question. ‘Broken a neck?’

Joseph got real busy checking out the dead cops’ slit throats. The Fed had paled slightly at the question, eyes flickering like he’d gone somewhere else for a second. Clay didn’t know what the guy was remembering, but it wasn’t a happy place. Quartermaine was giving Joseph a curious look. Brodie’s was more knowingly sympathetic.

Clay decided to take one for the team, to get the attention off Joseph. ‘Yes, I have. Why?’

‘Because I personally have not,’ Hyatt said evenly. ‘I need to understand what is required to break the necks of two strong officers, two in succession. When did you do so?’

‘In Somalia, when I was in the Corps.’ Clay wasn’t sure he believed the lieutenant’s reason for asking, but the guy could get the details of Clay’s story easily enough if he so desired. ‘But I didn’t do it to maintain stealth, like this probably was. We were under attack and I was fighting to stay alive. I used the only weapon I had at the moment – my hands. It wasn’t pleasant, I’ll tell you that. And I don’t know that I could have hit two guys in quick succession like this.’

‘Why not?’ Hyatt asked, his curiosity genuine.

‘There’s an emotional component that goes with it,’ Clay said slowly, aware of everyone in the room watching him and uncomfortable with the notion. ‘It’s still hard to admit, even after all these years, but when it was over, I staggered off and threw up. The sound of cracking wood still makes me cringe. There was certainly no joy in it. I might have been able to break two necks in a row, given the adrenaline pumping like it was, but I’m glad I never had to find out for sure.’

Joseph’s jaw clenched and Clay somehow knew that whoever the Fed had disposed of in his past, he
had
taken joy in the action. Or if not joy, then at least satisfaction. Which meant that whoever Joseph had killed had to have been a monster, because Joseph Carter was one of the good guys. One of the few men Clay trusted as much as he trusted his old friend Ethan Buchanan.

‘If you only broke one of their necks, how did you dispose of the other seven?’ Hyatt asked.

Clay narrowed his eyes, his suspicion confirmed. Hyatt had known to ask the question. ‘How did you know there were others?’

‘I read up on you two years ago, Maynard. We weren’t sure what kind of man you were and what, if anything, should be done about you back then. You’d obstructed justice, by your own account unknowingly, but there were those who thought you should have been charged with it.’

‘I probably should’ve been,’ Clay said bluntly. He’d known the identity of the man who’d killed his former partner, Nicki Fields, and he’d wanted to make the man pay. Personally.

‘You’re fortunate that I didn’t happen to agree,’ Hyatt said.

Only because you don’t know the whole story
. Clay returned his gaze to the bodies. ‘What are their names?’

‘Hollinsworth and Locklear,’ Hyatt said. ‘Both had exemplary records.’

‘What time did they arrive?’ Stevie asked.