Worth the Risk (22 page)

Because he
should
want to protect the person he worked alongside. He ought to be willing to put his life on the line to do it. Knowing that his partner wanted to protect him just as much was equally important. Besides that...everything about working with her just plain felt right.

“Probably too right,” he muttered.

Meredith stopped. “What?”

“Nothing.” Sam shook his head. “We can keep going.”

She didn’t move. Instead, she held out the flashlight and shone its narrow arc on a pile of stones.

“We don’t have to keep going,” she said. “We’re here.”

Above them, three flashes of lightning illuminated the sky. In the brief moments of brightness, Sam saw that the rocks extended out from a bush-covered hill. At their highest point, the stones were large, and stacked as high as five feet tall. At their lowest position, they were small and peppered the muddy ground, leading to a drop-off of dirt and slick grass that led to the beach again. He stared out. Presumably, no one would be able to see the arrangement from down near the water, and unless someone happened to be right there in the woods, it probably remained hidden from the casual hiker as well.

As the thunder rolled through the air, Sam turned back to find that Meredith had made it halfway up the side already. He had to scramble to catch up, and his first step on the rain-drenched stone nearly sent him flying.

“Be careful!” Meredith called from up top.

Sam started to growl out something about irony, but as he glanced up, Meredith slipped down suddenly, sliding out of sight. His heart dropped. Had she fallen? Hurt herself? She hadn’t screamed, but if she’d hit her head, maybe she hadn’t had a chance to.

Sam put aside his need for caution and took the rest of the rocks quickly. He crested the top, frantically searching the raised, uneven ground in front of him. He saw nothing. Even the rocks themselves were barely discernable from one another.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky temporarily, and Sam looked around again, even more urgently. He still didn’t see her.

“Meredith!”

The resounding thunder drowned out his voice, but as the sky darkened again, he did catch a flash of dim light. Oddly, it seemed to come from just ahead and
below
the rocks.

“Meredith?” he called again, this time uncertainly.

“Down here.” Her reply came from below, too.

Sam moved forward, a few inches at a time. The light increased—just marginally—and as he peered at it, his eyes adjusted enough to see that Meredith
was
underneath the rocks. She held the flashlight pointed up, and it issued just enough visibility to show a smooth curve leading to a naturally formed nook.

“I slipped in,” she said. “But if you look over there, you can get in without actually falling.”

The light swung to the side, revealing a jagged, stairlike set of rocks. Sam took them, two at a time, and as his feet met the ground, Meredith’s hand snaked out to grab his.

“When we hit the beach back there, I knew exactly how to find it,” she told him, her eyes flicking around the cave. “It’s almost the same as I remember it. Except the size. It seemed a lot bigger when we were kids.”

Sam nodded. His head almost fully stuck out the top, but anyone under five feet tall would be well covered. He could easily imagine the appeal of the secret hideout to a couple of kids.

“Very cool. And I can see why your parents would be worried about you hanging out here,” he said. “Any sign of the file?”

“Not yet. But somewhere by our feet, there’s a long, narrow opening. When we were kids, we used to climb in together and dare each other to slide back farther and farther. If it were me, hiding it for Tamara to find, that’s where I would put it.” She held out the flashlight. “Can you shine this down there while I look for it? It was always hard to find, even when it was right in front of us in the daylight.”

“You got it.”

Sam grasped the light in his hand and aimed it toward the ground as Meredith bent down. He moved it along slowly, shining it over mud and rocks and moss. A flash of color caught his eye, and clearly Meredith saw it, too.

“What was that?” she asked right away.

“Not sure.”

Sam brought the beam back. Then immediately wished he hadn’t. He tried to pull the light away, but he wasn’t quick enough. With a cry, Meredith flew up from her crouch and pressed herself into his chest, shaking.

Chapter 23

M
eredith stifled a sob and tried to focus on Sam. To concentrate on the way he smoothed her hair and whispered wordless comfort into her ear. To un-see what had flashed in the beam of light. Because the limp, plaid-covered arm jutting out from their secret hiding spot belonged to Nicholas Billing. She knew it was him.

Oh, God.

What would this mean for her sister? Meredith’s heart ached for the loss of life. For the loss of a future.

In spite of her resolve to not look, her head swiveled back again.

His hand. His jacket. His body. Her brother-in-law.

She didn’t even realize she’d spoken aloud until Sam answered.

“You’re sure it’s him?”

Meredith lifted her gaze and nodded. “I’m sure. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“I think so, sweetheart.”

She took a breath. “Check.”

“Check?”

“We have to
know
, right?”

“Meredith, we shouldn’t disturb—”

“Please.”

She sensed his reluctance as he pulled away, and she had to force herself to keep from holding on to him. She let him go and balled her hands into fists at her sides, watching with as much stoicism as she could muster as Sam squatted down. He set the flashlight on the ground and reached for Nicholas’s lifeless wrist.

“No pulse,” he confirmed, his voice full of genuine regret.

Meredith’s chest wanted to collapse in on itself as she struggled to find a way to ask what she wanted to know. “Can you tell what— How he— What—”

She closed her eyes as Sam bent to do a more thorough examination, but flew open as he spoke.

“Gunshot wound in the gut.”

“Someone shot him?”

“Afraid so.” Sam stood, then held out something small and rectangular. “He had this in his hand.”

Meredith took the object and turned it over. “A USB stick?”

“The Hamish file, maybe?”

“But...if someone killed him for the file, why would they leave the file behind?”

Sam met her eyes. “You don’t have to hear this if you don’t want to.”

Meredith shook her head. “I need to know.”

“The wound looks like hell. He’s been gone a few days, and the shot must’ve happened a day or two before that, even. And I think he self-treated the whole thing. Wrapped it with gauze, but not much else. Probably didn’t even realize how bad it was until it was too late and he was already down here.”

“Oh, God.”

“But it means you were right, sweetheart. Nicholas had nothing to do with Tamara’s kidnapping. He was trying to help her.”

She looked toward Nicholas’s still form, a thick lump in her throat. “I’d almost rather have been wrong. At least he’d still be alive.”

“I’m sorry it turned out like this.” Sam reached out and enveloped her in his arms. “And I wish I had something more comforting to say.”

Meredith sunk into him for a long moment. The storm raged above, but she ignored it, digging herself deeper against Sam’s chest, driving away its violence. She inhaled and exhaled slowly and willed herself to rally. She knew she’d have to grieve. For both her and Tamara. But for now, her sister still needed her in control of her faculties. She worked to gather her thoughts.

“I feel like we shouldn’t just leave him here. Like we should call the police,” she said, not able to cover her worry at how much doing it would slow them down and how much it would jeopardize the case and maybe even tie their hands completely.

Sam’s reply confirmed it. “It’s the right thing to do. For his sake and to cover our own rear ends. But doing it will bog us down in red tape and keep us from Tamara.”

The lump in her throat seemed to double in size. “Why do I feel like this is just me, having to pick the lesser of two evils?”

“This is you, prioritizing for the living, sweetheart. Besides that...you heard what the security guard said. The lines are tied up like crazy. Chances are, we wouldn’t even be able to get through.”

Meredith shifted from foot to foot. She squeezed the USB stick in her palm so hard it hurt. Sam was right, but that didn’t mean she had to feel good about leaving Nick behind.

Not Nick,
she told herself.
Nick’s body.

She opened her mouth to tell Sam they should go, but before she could speak, Detective Boyd’s phone rang from inside Sam’s pocket.

“You should get that,” she said.

“It’s probably Worm. He can wait.”

Meredith met his eyes. “He can. But Tamara can’t.”

He slid the phone from his pocket, then held it out to her. “Caller ID says it’s Olivia Childress.”

She breathed in, then pressed the button to answer. “Meredith Jamison speaking.”

“Hello!” came the cheerful reply. “You called about an audition?”

Meredith forced herself to speak with a matching amount of enthusiasm. “Hi, Ms. Childress. That’s right. You were referred to me in regards to your work in the role of Matilda Mathews.”

The woman let out a tinkling laugh. “Really? That was the strangest job I’ve ever done. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the guy playing the PI was the real deal.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Do you know him?”

Meredith glanced toward Sam. “We’ve done a bit of work together.”

“If you get a chance, tell him he does an amazing job. I’m sure the husband would’ve been thrilled with the performance.”

“The husband?”

“Nicholas Billing.” There was a pause. “Tamara Billing’s husband?”

Meredith swayed. “Right. Tamara and Nicholas.”

“At first when Mrs. Billing came to me, I thought she was trying to set up her husband on a cheating sting or something. And I admit I’ve gotta eat, but that’s not my kinda thing. But Mrs. Billing explained she was actually leaving clues for a birthday gift. Some kind of elaborate treasure trail and my role was just a hint along the way. Still not my usual gig, but it was supersweet and she was paying up front, to...”

Meredith could hear the shrug at the end of the explanation. “You did it anyway.”

“And since you’re calling, it sounds like maybe I should put it on my résumé.” Olivia laughed. “The agency said you were with the police PR department?”

“Right. But I’m afraid the role’s already been filled.”

“But you—”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Childress.” Meredith ended the call and looked at Sam. “We should go.”

The wind picked up and whipped through the cave. It drove the rain in, too, puffing out Meredith’s coat and making her shiver. Sam tried to draw her close, but she pretended not to notice, and she pushed her way up and out of the cave, glad that the noise from the storm drowned out any chance at conversation.

A heavy silence weighted the walk back to the cabin. Meredith could feel it hanging between them. Loss of life was never easy. Loss of family was even harder. And the loss of someone you’d kind of rather not have had in your family...

Guilt hit her even harder.

She’d spent the last five years resenting Nick. Over the last few hours, she’d been ready to lay the blame for Tamara’s kidnapping at his feet. But he’d actually been trying to save her. And now he was dead.

She held in a whimper.

When they reached the wooden porch at the cabin, Sam held open the door to let her enter first, but she stopped on the threshold and turned his way.

“It was Tamara who hired her. For
Nicholas
to find. The clues were all for him. She didn’t even want my help, Sam. Was the wedge between us that big?”

Sam shook his head. “Of course not.”

“You really believe that?”

“I told you I’d never lie to you, sweetheart. She
does
need you. And even if she thought she didn’t, when all of this started, somewhere inside she must’ve known it anyway.”

She didn’t move. “You said you
would
lie, if it was to protect me.”

“Sweetheart...”

She shook her head. “I don’t need protection right now, Sam. I need a reason to believe there’s a light at the end of this.”

“Meredith, she wouldn’t have chosen
this
place if she didn’t think there was a chance she might need you.”

A small amount of the pressure in her chest lifted. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Being a person I can trust.”

“Always.”

She brushed her lips over his softly, then moved past him to get into the cabin, where she discarded her jacket and headed for the laptop. She grabbed it, sat on the couch and plugged in the USB stick, then gestured for Sam to join her.

Together, with hands laced, they watched as the master file popped up. Only two subheadings were listed below.

Meredith read them allowed them aloud. “Deleted files. Corrupted files. Sam...there’s nothing here. These are just Tamara’s trash.”

Disappointment washed over her, but Sam stared at the computer for a second, a frown creasing his forehead hard enough that Meredith thought it must hurt. “Open the second one.”

“What?”

“Do you know anyone who
keeps
corrupted files?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, he just reached across and double clicked.

“It’s a list of names,” Meredith said. “But why are they in here under corrupted files?”

“Because,” Sam replied. “These aren’t corrupted files at all. They’re files
about
corruption.”

He clicked on the third name from the top, and a new list formed underneath it. Dates. File numbers. And ranks.

“Boyd, Brody. Detective.”
Meredith lifted her eyes to Sam’s face. “These are police?”

“Not just police.”

She glanced down again. “Right. Detective Boyd... This isn’t Tamara’s USB stick at all. Why does she have it? How did she get a list of corrupt cops?”

“I don’t know. But I recognize nearly every name in here. Most worked in missing persons in Bowerville. A few are from other cities. And this is more than just a list, sweetheart. This is a paper trail with traceable illegal activity. Look.”

She watched as he clicked again, this time on one of the numbered files. It showed two witness statements, nearly identical. But one placed Boyd and three others at the scene of a murder
before
it happened, and the other had clearly been modified to put them there after. Sam clicked and clicked and clicked again. And even Meredith could tell that the pages contained irrefutable evidence of cops on the take, cops covering for drug dealers and cops killing to cover up their misdeeds.

Sam strummed his fingers on the table. “So now we know why our friends on the Bowerville PD want this.”

“But why would someone even make a set of files like this one? Wouldn’t they just risk exposing themselves?”

“Not as much as they’d risk by
not
having the files. These are for blackmail, plain and simple. Perfect records so no one can turn in whoever’s running the operation. The real question is, why would your sister have it?”

Meredith stared down at the computer for a silent moment, then asked, “Can you pull up that other list? The one Worm sent over?”

“Yep.” He minimized the USB file and pulled up the email instead.

Meredith tapped the screen. “These are Tamara’s clients. The list Worm said he could create from her credit-card files. Can you go back to the main list of cops, then line them up, side by side?”

“Sure.”

When he was done, Meredith scanned down, then sighed. “Nothing.”

“What about the other folder, then?”

Meredith leaned over, minimized the two windows, then opened up the folder labeled Deleted Files. A trail of information, very similar to the stuff attached to the list of corrupt officers, appeared on the screen. But under each name, there was a date. And a single word in all caps.
DELETED.
Frowning as a name caught her eye, Meredith shuffled until she had all three in a narrow row.

Then she tapped the screen. “There. Look. Sergeant Daniel Barovitz is on the list in the deleted files
and Mrs. Trina Tyler-Barovitz on the credit-card-holders list. There’s no way they’re anything but husband and wife.”

“What’re you thinking?”

“Well. My sister is pretty tight-lipped about her clients, and it’d be breaking the law for her to release privileged information. But if she knew someone was in danger...”

Meredith trailed off as she realized Sam had stopped listening. His eyes were glued to the screen and his expression had grown dark. Stormier than the exterior of the cabin. Meredith followed his gaze. And it only took her a second to figure out what had taken his attention. The top name of the deleted files screen.

Heely, Abel.

His old partner.

“Click on it,” he ordered.

Meredith didn’t hesitate, or even balk at the roughness of his tone. She just put one hand over top of Sam’s, squeezed, then used the other hand to obey his command.

And suddenly it wasn’t hard for Meredith to put the appropriate meaning to the word
deleted
.

* * *

Sam’s heart was in his throat. The five-year-old memory, the five-year-old devastation...it all came rushing back.

When he spoke, his voice came out hoarse. “That date there. It’s the day they died. The day they tossed Kelsey’s body from the car and killed Heely. And these connections here are proof that I was right. Heely was no good. But...”

“But they killed him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Damned good question.”

Sam pulled the computer away from her and went back through the names on the list of deleted files. He clicked and read and clicked and read some more. Then he leaned back and met her eyes.

“I don’t think they just killed Heely. I think they executed him. And all of the other corrupt cops on this list.”

As Sam walked Meredith through it, showing her the common threads, he was utterly sure he was right. Nearly every one of deleted names had, at some point, met with someone from Internal Affairs. Sam suspected that the ones without a concrete connection had done the same. And each of them had died just after, assuming the dates corresponded.

Deleted.

The euphemism made his lip curl in disgust. Regardless of their involvement in criminal activities, they’d been murdered, plain and simple. Sam’s teeth clenched together hard enough to make his jaw ache.