COLLATERAL CASUALTIES (The Kate Huntington mystery series) (10 page)

            Skip was a lot bigger but Rose was quick and agile. She made it to the curb before he caught up with her. He held out his hand for his keys. She gestured toward her car instead.

            “Stay out of this, Rose. It’s none of your business. Now give me my damn keys!”

            Rose narrowed her eyes. She was surprised by how much the none-of-your-business comment stung, even though there was truth to it. “Get in my car! We’re going to talk.”

            He turned on his heel and walked away from her down the block. “Or, we could go for a walk,” she muttered.

            She jogged to catch up with him. “I told your wife you’re not an impulsive man. Thanks for making a liar out of me.”

            Skip ignored her. He continued down the sidewalk in long strides that kept her jogging beside him. As they neared the corner, she veered across somebody’s front lawn to cut him off. “Damn it, Skip, take a deep breath and settle down.”

            “I told you this is not your business,” he repeated through clenched teeth.

            “Normally I would agree with you, but the stakes are too high here. And Kate did what she thought was best. If the shoe were on the other foot, you would’ve kept it from her. Considered it agency business that was your responsibility to deal with.”

            Skip didn’t say anything. Rose continued in a quieter voice. “This was a matter related to
her
work. A confidential matter that she didn’t have the right to tell you about. But she could consult with Rob for advice, her attorney who is also sworn to keep such things confidential.”

            “So how come she told you and Mac?” Skip’s voice was still angry.

            “That was Rob’s suggestion. Because of Mac’s background.” Rose looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. “He’s worked undercover in Special Forces. He’s even been on black ops. He’s the best person to deal with this.”

            “And you just happened to be tagging along yesterday?” Skip said, his tone now sarcastic.

            Rose tamped down her own temper. She understood his anger. “Yeah, on purpose. I knew something was up with her.”

            Skip sucked in air, then blew it out again. “Okay, I’ll buy the confidentiality issue initially. But as soon as things started to unravel, she should’ve told me.”

            “Come on, let’s walk.” Rose turned and started down the sidewalk. Skip fell in beside her.

            She was trying to sort out what to say. She knew in her gut why Kate had handled things the way she did but how to explain it to Skip? She hit on an idea. “Who’d you have for psychology at Towson University?” They’d both studied criminal justice there, but at different times.

            Skip looked startled by the abrupt change of subject. “Can’t remember her name right now,” he said after a beat, “but she was one of the best profs I had.”

            “Dark hair, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose?”

            “Sounds like her.”

            “I had her too. One time in class, she talked about differences between men and women. It stuck with me, ’cause it had me wondering for awhile if I was really a guy. Doctor... Damn, I can’t remember her name either. Anyway, she said that men are all about action, while women are into emotions. Men want to just fix the problem. Women want to talk it to death, figure out how they
feel
.” Rose dragged out the last word as she rolled her eyes.

            Skip actually chuckled. “Boy, ain’t that the truth.” Then he stopped walking and turned to face her. “This isn’t about Kate’s feelings, though. It’s about the possibility that she could end up dead because she knew a man who used to be a spy.”

            “You’re missing my point, partner. Kate was afraid that if she told you what was going on, you’d feel you had to take action. She asked my advice yesterday, about telling you.” Rose knew she was risking Skip turning his anger on her but she forged ahead anyway. “I told her I honestly didn’t know what to suggest. ’Cause I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t go off half-cocked, like you almost did today.”

            Skip just shook his head. “I was mostly pissed about her not telling me.”

            Rose looked up at him. She cocked one eyebrow at a forty-five degree angle. “If Kate had told you right after her client was killed, what would you have done? Think about that for a minute before you answer.” She started strolling down the sidewalk again.

            They rounded the next corner. “I would have discreetly tried to find out who the ambassador was,” Skip finally said, with a touch of chagrin.

            “And if Kate asked you not to get involved?”

            Skip thought for a few seconds. “I probably still would’ve done it. I just wouldn’t have told her I did it.”

            “And if the shoe were on the other foot. You had a situation with a case that got dangerous, and... well, you wouldn’t tell her ’cause you wouldn’t want to worry her, but suppose you did tell her about it. What would you expect her to do?”

            Skip stopped in his tracks. “I’d expect her just to listen, let me vent. It would never even occur to her to get involved. She’d just beg me to be careful.”

            Rose grinned up at him. “A rather large double standard ya got goin’ there, don’t ya think?”

            Skip shook his head, then gave her a small grin back. “Next time I see you doling out rope, I’m gonna know you’re about to hang me with it.”

            They started walking again, rounding the corner back to Skip’s own block. “How’d you get so smart about men and women, Rosie?” He intentionally used the nickname she hated.

            She punched him in the arm. He winced. Rose was one of the few women who could hit him hard enough to hurt.

            “Usually I’m as baffled by other women as men are, but I get where Kate’s coming from, most of the time at least. She’s...” Rose paused.

            “A straight shooter,” Skip finished for her.

            Rose nodded, stopping beside her car. She pulled his keys out of her pocket and handed them to him. “Go make up with her, Skippy. She needs you. She’s been terrified by all this.”

            Guilt tugged at Skip’s heart. Why was it he suddenly needed other women to tell him to be there for his wife? He used to believe he was a sensitive man.

            Rose had beeped her car unlocked and opened the driver’s door. “Where you going, partner?” he asked.

            “Kaplan got back to me, while you and Kate were talking. I’ve got the mistress’s address. Gonna do some reconnaissance. Ambassador should be there tomorrow afternoon. That’s when me and Mac’ll deliver our little insurance policy. I’m putting him in charge of this case.” She arched an eyebrow at him again. “So you and I
both
take orders from him.”

            Skip started to protest, then thought better of it. Rose was in charge of allocation of personnel, and she was right. He was too close to the situation. Mac was the best person for the job.

            “How much did Kaplan soak us for the mistress’s address?” he said instead.

            “Only a hundred.”

            Skip snorted. “The man has the morals of a toad.”

            “Please, that’s insulting to the poor innocent toads.”

~~~~~~~

            Skip found Maria in the kitchen. The children were playing on the floor around her as she scrubbed the already spotless counter tops. Skip pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet. “Could you take the kids to McDonald’s for dinner?” he whispered so they wouldn’t overhear him.

            Maria answered him with her own eloquent Hernandez eyebrow.

            “I know. I’ve got some fences to mend,” Skip said.

            “Lez jist hope you no burn no bridges,” she replied tartly, taking the money from him. “Come on,
mis niños
, we go out.”

            Skip opted to be amused rather than annoyed by Maria’s fierce loyalty to Kate. He went in search of his wife.

            And couldn’t find her. After a thorough ground-to-attic search, he opened the back door. And there she was, sitting in the Adirondack chair at the end of the tree-shaded yard. They never used that chair, but she’d resisted getting rid of it. He’d sat in it once, and had a hell of a time getting out of it again, because of its tilted back.

            He walked down the yard. The sight of tear tracks on Kate’s face tugged at his heart. He squatted down beside her chair. “Why are you sitting way back here?”

            “It’s where I sat when I was grieving for Eddie,” she whispered.

            She might as well have stabbed him in the chest with a knife. “I’m so sorry,” he managed to get past the guilt and fear clogging his throat.

            Her eyes went wide. “I’m the one who screwed up. I should’ve told you sooner.”

            “No, you didn’t screw up. Rose made me realize I would’ve handled it exactly the same, if the shoe’d been on the other foot.” He tried to gather her up in his arms, but the weird slant of the chair made that impossible.

            He stood up, then pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry I stormed out, darlin’,” he said into her hair. He breathed in the floral scent of her shampoo.

            She shook her head against his chest. Her muffled voice said, “You had every right to be furious.”

            He held her slightly away from him so he could look into her eyes. “Sometimes life gets messy, and there is no clear-cut way to handle it.”

            Kate´s mouth twitched. It looked like she was trying to smile but couldn’t quite get the muscles coordinated. “Have I ever told you how much I admire your astuteness, Mr. Canfield?”

            “Yup, as a matter of fact, you have, darlin’. But it’s okay with me if you repeat yourself now an’ again.” He pulled her snug against him and rocked gently back and forth.

            When he felt her body relax, he bent his head down to whisper in her ear. “Maria took the kids to Mickey D’s for dinner.” He bent a little further, nudging aside the collar of her shirt to kiss the sweet spot where shoulder curved up into neck. She shivered and let out a soft gasp. “You up for a little make-up sex?”

            She leaned back in his arms. “Is that a rhetorical question?” This time her mouth muscles remembered how to smile.

CHAPTER SEVEN

            Friday at three-fifteen, Mac pulled a rented car, its license plates obscured with mud, up behind a black limousine parked on a side street in Bethesda, Maryland. Skip, having convinced Mac and Rose to let him be their back-up, was a block further back hunched down in his own truck, watching the action through binoculars.

            The limo driver had lowered his windows to enjoy the mild autumn day. He had his head tilted back, eyes closed, listening to a Spanish radio station.

            His eyes flew open when Mac touched the cold end of his Glock’s barrel against the man’s temple.

            “Move a muscle and your brain’s history.” Mac growled from his position crouched down beside the car.

            The man stared straight ahead. To his credit, he was neither shaking nor sweating.

           
Lot more than just a driver
, Mac thought. “What’s your name?”

            “Raul.” The voice was flat.

            “Okay, Raul. Nice and slow, put your hands on the steering wheel. No sudden moves or my finger might get twitchy.”

            Without moving his head, Raul’s eyes flicked to the right, toward the townhouse his boss had entered ten minutes ago. Rose was blocking his view, leaning slightly in the passenger-side window as if she were having a conversation with him.

            Mac could make out the rectangular bulge of a cell phone in the outer, right pocket of the man’s uniform jacket. “Take your phone out, real slow.”

            Raul´s right hand moved toward the inside pocket of his jacket.

            Mac jabbed him with the gun barrel. “Other pocket, asshole. Wouldn’t want my finger to slip, now would we?”

            Raul froze, then reached into the appropriate pocket.

            “Hands back on the wheel.” When Raul had complied, the cell phone now in his left palm, Mac reached inside the man’s jacket and removed his pistol.

            “Nobody gets hurt if ya do what we say.” Mac nodded to Rose. She handed Raul a sheet of paper.

            “My partner’s goin’ to the door,” Mac said. “If your boss calls, ya tell him what’s on that paper and only what’s on that paper.”

            Typed on the sheet, in Spanish, was
She says she means you no harm, but she needs to talk to you about a mutual friend who has died. She’s not armed.
The last sentence was a lie.

            “Ya say anything else and your brains’ll be splattered all over the ambassador’s nice leather seat.”

            Mac looked over at Rose. Her jacket showed a comforting bulge where her hand was wrapped around the .32 inside her pocket. Mac nodded.

            Turning, she walked to the front door of the townhouse and rang the bell.

            Thirty seconds later, Raul’s cell phone rang. He answered it. “
Hola
.”

            After five years of living with Rose, Mac had picked up enough Spanish to know the man was sticking to the script. Raul disconnected.

            “Hands back on the wheel,” Mac said from his crouched position.

            Raul complied.

            Another few seconds went by. A stocky, middle-aged man opened the door of the townhouse. His tie was loosened and the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled partway up tan arms. Scratching his bearded chin, the man looked over at the limousine.

            “Eyes straight ahead,” Mac growled at Raul.

~~~~~~~

            Inside the house, a slender, fair-skinned woman, with long shiny dark hair and perfect posture, was standing in the middle of a tile-floored room. She wore a simple black, floor-length dress. The man in the doorway stepped back and gestured toward a brown leather armchair.