Dead Reckoning (44 page)

“Jesus!” Then, “I’ve got you!”

She must have known what Rooks had planned for her. She’d tied one end of the cord around the concrete pillar, the other end around her torso and beneath her arms.

“Sweet Jesus.” Using the pillar for leverage, he wrapped the cord around his fist and pulled. “Hang on!”

A moment later a single hand reached up and grasped the edge of the concrete floor. Frank quickly secured the extension cord and ran to her. His entire body shook uncontrollably when he grasped her hand. “I’ve got you,” he said.

She seemed weightless as he pulled her onto the floor, then to her feet. “Oh, God . . . Frank. Oh, God. I thought . . .”

She teetered for an instant, and then he pulled her into his arms. “Shh. Easy. I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

“Rooks . . . He was going to . . .”

“I know. It’s okay now. He’s gone, honey. You’re safe. It’s just me.”

“You came,” she choked. “I knew you would.”

Realizing she was favoring her arm, he pulled back slightly. “You’re hurt.”

“I think my arm is broken.”

The thought of Rooks causing her that kind of pain filled him with rage. But it was short-lived. Rooks was dead. Kate was warm and alive against him. So close he could feel the warmth of her breath, the wetness of her tears. The softness of her hair. The scent of her perfume that had always driven him a little nuts. The vibrant force of her life.

“You saved my life,” she whispered.

Setting his hands on either side of her face, he looked into her eyes. “I saw you fall. I thought . . .” His voice broke as the memory of the terror and grief pressed down on him. “If you had fallen, I would have died right along with you.”

“I didn’t know if the cord would hold. I couldn’t see. My hands were shaking.”

Closing his eyes against the rush of emotion, he set his forehead against hers. “That was smart, honey,” he said. “That cord saved your life.”

She pulled back, her gaze meeting his. Raising her uninjured arm, she set her palm against his face. “This is probably a bad time to say this. I’m not even sure you want to hear it. But I love you.”

He grinned. “That could be the shock talking.”

Choking out a sound that was part sob, part laugh, she hit him on the shoulder with her good hand. “I’m not in shock.”

“In that case, I guess it’s safe for me to tell you I love you, too. I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, the second time I laid eyes on you.”

He pulled her close. He could feel the tremors racking her body. He could feel his own body shaking. His emotions breaking free. He felt tears on his cheeks, and they stunned him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. But he didn’t care because Kate was alive. The future was theirs for the taking.

Holding her tightly, he bowed his head and vowed never to let her go.

EPILOGUE

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 9:20 A.M.

For the first time in her career, Kate was late for a meeting. She tried not to notice the stares and whispers of the administrative staffers as she rushed toward Mike Shelley’s office. At the doorway, she paused to take a deep breath in an effort to gather her composure, then opened the door.

Three heads turned, all eyes in the room landing on Kate. “Sorry I’m late,” she said.

“No problem.” Mike Shelley sat at his desk, his eyes steady on hers.

Kate wasn’t sure she liked the compassion she saw in his expression. She was much more comfortable with annoyance or exasperation. She figured she was going to have to deal with that for a while.

“How’s the arm?” Detective Bates asked.

He sat at the small conference table. Same bad suit. Same stained tie. Some things never changed.

“Better.” Kate smiled. “Thank you.”

“Everyone wants to sign your cast.” Liz Gordon chuckled. “Totally inappropriate stuff, Kate. Don’t let them.”

Kate laughed, but her nerves were taut. She looked around the small conference room table. Frank was supposed to be here, but he was conspicuously absent. She didn’t want to ask about him; she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep a handle on her emotions. But she couldn’t help but wonder if he was tied up with the legal problems that had arisen from the shooting death of Jameson Rooks.

As if reading her thoughts, Mike Shelley cleared his throat. “Matrone is on his way. Hopefully.” Rising, he left his desk and walked to the conference table where he pulled out a chair for Kate. “You didn’t have to be here today,” he said.

“I’d like to stay apprised of what’s happening with the case, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “But I meant what I said about your taking some vacation time.”

Kate tried not to wince as she lowered herself into the chair. She was still sore from the ordeal she’d gone through with Jameson Rooks atop Providence Tower four days ago. Her arm had been set and would heal with no lingering damage. But she knew the emotional wounds would take a bit more time.

Frank had stayed with her until the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance. He’d wanted to ride with her to the hospital, but the PD had had plenty of questions for him that had kept him tied up the rest of the night. But he’d been in her room when she’d wakened the next day . . .

“Kate, I called this meeting to brief all of you on the Ferguson and Rooks investigation.” Mike opened the folder in front of him. “I thought you might want to know what our investigation has uncovered so far.”

Kate had already figured out most of how the insurance scheme worked. This morning, her overriding concern was for Frank. She’d found out late yesterday that a grand jury would convene to rule on the shooting death of Jameson Rooks. The process was routine, even for justifiable shooting deaths. But the legalities were never easy to go through.

Mike Shelley grimaced. “From what the Dallas PD and federal investigators have been able to find out, it looks like the law firm of Ferguson and Rooks created companies that purchased franchises for coffee shops, convenience stores, and pizza parlors. Nationwide, there were about four hundred and twenty-two units in twenty-eight states. The parent company took out life insurance policies on hourly employees. We believe Jameson Rooks then hired a hit man to go into the stores, murder the clerk on duty, and make it look like a robbery. The family of the deceased clerk usually received four or five thousand dollars, if anything. The corporation owned by the law firm of Ferguson and Rooks would receive between two hundred and three hundred thousand dollars.”

Kate had done the math and the numbers astounded and sickened her. “Rooks told me they had murdered upward of twenty-two people.”

Detective Bates sighed. “That’s over six million dollars. Who says murder isn’t lucrative?”

“A lot of families devastated,” Liz said.

Mike Shelley grimaced. “The practice is known as dead-peasant insurance.”

“Apt term,” the detective said.

“What about the case?” Kate asked.

“We’re still working out the details with the feds.”

“And Belinda Ferguson?” she asked.

“She’s going to make it.” Mike’s eyes glinted hard for a moment. “I’ve already told her attorney no deals. She’ll do hard time.”

Kate thought about that for a moment and asked the question that had been eating at her for four days now. “What about Frank?”

Mike’s expression softened when he looked at Kate. “He’s got some legal red tape to work through, but he’ll be exonerated.”

As if on cue, the door swung open. Kate looked up to see Frank standing inside the door. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His hair was damp and mussed. A tiny piece of tissue paper clung to his chin. He was wearing a nicely cut charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt, a burgundy tie, and, of course, cowboy boots.

“We’re glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence,” Mike said.

“Sorry I’m late.” Frank addressed the group, but his eyes were on Kate. “I had some things to take care of.”

She hadn’t seen him since the morning she’d wakened in the hospital. He’d called to check on her, but he hadn’t come to see her. She didn’t understand why. So much had happened in the last few days she wasn’t sure she’d ever figure it out. The only thing she knew for certain was that it hurt not seeing him.

“Kate, I need to talk to you.”

The utterance of her name jolted her from her reverie. She blinked, realized Frank was addressing her in front of the group. Uncertain, she looked at Shelley, who nodded. “Go,” he said. “You’re on vacation the rest of the week.”

“What about my caseload?”

“We’ll talk about that when you get back.” Mike rose and helped her scoot back her chair. “I’ll see you next week.”

Then she was walking toward the door, toward Frank. She could feel her heart beginning to pound. Her emotions ebbing and flowing. His eyes burning into her as she crossed the distance between them. She was glad to see him. Too glad. But she didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know where she stood with him. Where they stood. And it was driving her crazy.

He took her hand when she reached the door and ushered her into the hall, closing the door behind them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“Getting something off my chest.”

She was standing with her back to the wall. He was so close she could smell the tangy out-of-doors scent of his aftershave. His eyes were dark and level on hers.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m . . . okay.”

“Liar.” But he softened the word with a smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you.”

“You have a lot to deal with.” She pursed her lips, suddenly aware that she was inordinately nervous. “I’ve been worried. I mean, the grand jury.”

“Grand jury is going to be a slam dunk.” He grinned, but she saw the same nerves she was feeling in the depth of his eyes. “It’s the other thing that’s got me tied up in little knots.”

“What other thing?”

“We said some things the other night . . .” He looked down, then met her gaze. “No matter how things play out between us, I just want you to know that I meant what I said.”

Kate’s mind was reeling. She hadn’t known what to expect of this first meeting, but it wasn’t this. “We said a lot of things. We were scared. The adrenaline was high—”

A smile whispered across his mouth. “You’re a hard case, Kate.”

“Habit, I guess.”

Taking her face in his hands, he backed her to the wall, then gently lowered his mouth to hers. Kate knew that letting him kiss her right outside her boss’s office was inappropriate and unprofessional. But the instant his mouth touched hers none of that seemed to matter. Nothing in her life had ever felt so right as being held in Frank Matrone’s arms.

He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “I want you to know. I checked into a clinic. Outpatient. I’m going to get off the pain meds. Try some other things. Acupuncture. Surgery, maybe.”

“Frank, that’s wonderful. I know you can do it.”

His gaze searched hers. “I know you may not want to hear this, Kate, but I’m crazy about you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you twenty-four hours a day.”

“Frank . . .”

“I need you in my life.” He let out a pent-up breath. “I love you. I didn’t think I’d ever say those words to anyone ever again, but you proved me wrong. You turned my world upside down. You showed me I have a future. That it’s as bright as I want it to be.”

Kate knew it was stupid but suddenly she had to blink back tears. “Are you finished?”

His jaw flexed. “I think that just about covers it.”

Raising her hand, she pressed it to his cheek. “You proved to me that even the deepest of wounds can be healed,” she whispered. “You’ve healed me. Heart, body, and soul. I love you, too.”

He blinked as if she’d stunned him, then a slow grin spread across his face. “In that case, why don’t we blow this joint before the tongues start wagging?”

“The tongues are already wagging. Administrative staffers have a bet going.”

“I put money in the pot.”

“Did you win?”

“More than I ever imagined.” Frank grinned and for the first time since she’d known him, Kate saw joy in his eyes.

Julia Wainwright stood on the sidewalk in the chill morning air, a box of warm beignets balanced in her hand, a stack of books tucked beneath her arm. She stared through the storefront window, taking in the display of leather-bound tomes artfully arranged on a red and gold tapestry, not quite able to convince herself it was her creation.

“Not bad for a kid who flunked second grade art class,” she murmured, unable to keep the silly grin off her face.

The sun rising over the French Quarter’s St. Louis Cathedral warmed her back as she tugged the key from her coat pocket and stuck it in the lock. Hugging the books to her body, expertly balancing the beignets, she shoved open the door with her foot.

The aromas of old building, paper dust, and vanilla candles greeted her like an old friend as she stepped into The Book Merchant, the antique bookstore she owned and operated.

Julia had had a love affair with books even before she’d learned to read, which had occurred at the ripe age of four. Immersing herself in wonderful stories with characters who were every bit as real as her friends from preschool had transformed a rather lonely childhood into a world filled with enchantment and adventure. She had understood and appreciated the power of the written word long before most of her classmates had even read their first book.

As she’d grown older, her love of books burgeoned to include rare and old books. She could sit for hours with a battered volume, thinking about all the people who’d held it in their hands over the years, wondering if they’d wept or laughed at the passages within.