Fatal Exposure (15 page)

“And now she runs a shelter for runaway pregnant girls.”

Brynn’s mouth ticked up, pride welling for her best friend. “She’s always been a rescuer—stray cats, stray dogs, stray people.” A woman with a nurturing heart. “In any case, I can’t imagine her father belonging to a gang. He’s more the country-club type.”

“Like you said, you never know. He might use drugs or have some other connection to them.”

True enough. She just hoped they found out
something
on this visit that would incriminate her stepfather and end the danger before more innocent people got hurt.

Several houses later, they reached the shelter, a tidy, Federal-style row house with freshly painted black shutters and yellow bricks. Brynn climbed the steps and pushed the bell. A small bronze plaque bearing the inscription “Always Home” decorated the wooden door.

A pregnant girl let them inside a minute later. Brynn crossed the threshold, then paused, experiencing her usual shiver of pride. Sunlight streamed over the hardwood floor. Flowers brimmed from vases, adding bursts of color to the cheerful room. Oversize, sagging armchairs formed an arc around the fireplace, inviting a weary runaway to put up her feet and relax. The mouthwatering scent of baking cookies filled the air.

Haley’s shelter was a sanctuary, the kind of place they’d both yearned for as runaway teens—a safe, comfortable home where they could escape the danger, where there was a nonjudgmental shoulder to cry on, where they could curl up beside the fireplace and figure out how to mend their shattered lives.

Haley emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Concern filled her eyes when she saw her old friend.

“Brynn! I’ve been so worried! Are you all right?” Her cheeks were flushed from baking, her thick, chestnut hair slipping from a haphazard knot atop her head. But she still managed to look poised, despite her flour-dusted T-shirt and jeans—a legacy from her former life as a debutante.

“I’m fine. I brought someone to see you. This is Parker McCall.”

Haley’s gaze whipped to Parker, sudden caution stealing into her eyes. Brynn knew she’d pegged him as a cop. Despite her gentle appearance, Haley was as street savvy as Brynn. She’d had to be to survive. And Parker was the epitome of danger with his dark, gunslinger eyes, his tall, muscular build, the lethal masculinity oozing from every pore.

“He’s Tommy’s brother,” she added.

Surprise replaced the wariness in Haley’s eyes. She tilted her head, studying him anew. “You look like him.”

Parker gave her a nod. Brynn realized it had to be odd for him to meet people who’d known his brother back then. And she could tell by the tension rippling his rough-hewn jaw that it affected him more than he cared to let on.

“Can we talk?” she asked Haley. She glanced at the teenager watching from the kitchen doorway. “Somewhere private?”

“Let’s go in my office.” She turned to the pregnant teen. “Jessica, can you take out the cookies when the timer rings? Then turn the oven off. It’s the last batch.”

“Okay.” Smiling shyly, the teen disappeared into the kitchen.

“She looks young,” Brynn said, trailing Haley into her office down the hall.

“Sixteen. About the same age I was when I ran away. It seems incredible now.”

It was a lifetime ago. They’d both changed and become much stronger—strength they needed now if they hoped to defeat their ghosts for good.

Haley ushered them inside and shut the door. Brynn plopped down beside Parker on the faded couch and sighed. Haley’s office was the opposite of Gwendolyn Shaffer’s with its threadbare sofa and mismatched chairs, ironic given Haley’s privileged childhood. But it was the type of place a kid could unburden her heart—which was exactly Haley’s intent.

“So what’s going on?”

“We’re trying to identify the man who shot Tommy,” Brynn said. She summarized the recent events, including the possible link to the Ridgewood gang. “It’s complicated, but we were wondering about your father and how he knows Senator Riggs.”

Haley pursed her lips. “They go way back. They were classmates at Georgetown Law. He came to a lot of parties at our house when I lived at home. He’s friends with my mother, too.”

Parker leaned forward. “Your father’s a criminal defense attorney, right?”

“That’s right. He’s the senior partner at the firm, so he mostly takes the high profile cases. And he hardly ever loses. He’s a real SOB in court.”

And at home, according to the stories she’d told Brynn.

“Any chance he defended Markus Jenkins?” Parker asked. “He’s the leader of the Ridgewood gang.”

“I don’t know. I don’t follow his cases now.”

But if Haley’s father
had
defended Markus Jenkins, it made for an interesting twist. Haley’s father golfed with the senator, his former classmate. Now Hoffman was the senator’s protégé—linking the three men. And Markus Jenkins led the gang that was trying to kill her, possibly at Hoffman’s behest.

“I wish I could help,” Haley added. “But I haven’t had contact with him in years.”

Parker seemed to process that. He asked a few more questions about her father’s practice, but while it was possible he defended gang members, Haley couldn’t confirm it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that’s not much help.”

“It was worth a try.”

“No one’s bothered you, have they?” Brynn asked. “You haven’t seen anyone hanging around?”

“No. Everything’s peaceful here—or as much as it can be with pregnant girls.”

“Good.” She prayed it stayed that way.

“You mind if I use your computer for a minute?” Parker asked Haley. “I’d like to check my email.”

“Go ahead. I need to see about those cookies. Jessica tends to get distracted and forget.” She rose and caught Brynn’s eye. “Come on. I’ll bag up some cookies for you to take with you.”

Resigned to the inevitable grilling, Brynn followed her into the kitchen. Haley had begun renovating her shelter years ago, and only had the kitchen left. It desperately needed updating with its gold linoleum floor, cheap particle board cupboards and the ugliest avocado-green countertop Brynn had ever seen. But French doors opened onto a pretty patio. A farmhouse table lined one wall, more flowers sprawling over the top. Chocolate chip cookies cooled in racks on the counters, the sugary scent making her stomach growl.

“So what gives?” Haley demanded as soon as they were inside.

“I told you. We’re investigating—”

“I mean with Tommy’s brother.”

“Nothing.”

Haley snorted. “Nothing? The way he looks at you?”

Brynn’s face warmed, a kaleidoscope of erotic images flashing through her mind. And she knew she’d never fool Haley. Her friend knew her too well. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it. We’re having a...a thing. But it’s not serious.”

Haley raised a brow.

“It’s not. It’s just...I don’t know, a fling.”

“You’re not the type for a fling.”

“Well, I’m not the type for fairy-tale endings, either, so don’t you dare start in with that.”

Haley’s eyes instantly softened. “Of course you are. You just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

“Right. Well, maybe in my next life.” Shaking her head, Brynn snatched a cookie from the rack and took a bite. The argument wasn’t new. They’d been debating this for years. Brynn was a die-hard realist. She knew her limitations and never indulged in dreams. Whereas Haley was an eternal optimist who clung to the misguided belief that true love awaited her someday no matter how much evidence proved her wrong.

“Great cookie,” she mumbled, hoping her friend would take the hint.

But Haley wasn’t easily deterred. “Tommy was a good guy, you know.”

“So?”

“So maybe his brother’s like him.”

Brynn released a sigh. “Maybe he is. In fact, I know he is. But that still doesn’t make him right for me.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Brynn rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. Now can we please let this go?”

Haley raised her hands as if to ward her off. “Fine. If you want to reject a man like that, it’s up to you.” She took a paper bag from a drawer and piled some cookies inside, then handed it to Brynn. “But guys like that don’t come around twice. Don’t mess this up because you’re scared.”

Scared?
Stung, Brynn gaped at her closest friend. “How can you say that? I’m not scared.”

“Not of the big stuff, no. But sometimes I think...”

“What?”

Haley leaned back against the counter, then sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. I really admire your work. It’s brilliant.
You’re
brilliant. And you know I love you. You’re the best friend I have. I wouldn’t even be here without your help. But sometimes I wonder if maybe you aren’t hiding behind your work, using it as a way to keep people out.”

Brynn’s jaw dropped. She stared at her friend in shock. She didn’t hide behind her work. She used her photos to expose the evil in the world, to show the unvarnished reality of homeless life—not as a crutch.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Haley added quickly. “I hope I am. All I’m saying is...you had a terrible past. You had every right to retreat. What you suffered...no one should have to go through that. But don’t let the evil you’ve suffered rob you of a happy life.”

“I won’t. I’m not.”

“Good.” Haley gave her another hug. “Now go give that man those cookies while I clean up.”

Still reeling from the accusation, Brynn left Haley to her cookies and went back down the hall. Sure, she was cautious around people. Why shouldn’t she be? She had killers tracking her down, her stepfather trying to do her in. She’d be foolish
not
to fear for her life.

But as for her relationship with Parker...Haley was wrong. She simply wasn’t the happily-ever-after type. And it had nothing to do with fear.

Parker looked up as she entered the office. His somber eyes stopped her cold. “What happened?”

“I got the list.”

The officers who’d worked in Homicide when Tommy had died. Her pulse quickening, she set the bag of cookies on the end table and sank onto the sagging couch. “Any surprises?”

“A couple.” His eyes turning even grimmer, he worked his bristled jaw. “It turns out my supervisor, Enrique Delgado, was there.”

Brynn’s heart tripped. “The guy who worked in the gang unit? The guy you were talking to when the police showed up?”

“Yeah.”

She turned that over in her mind. “You’re saying he might know Markus Jenkins?”

“It’s possible.”

“You think Delgado got him out of prison?” But that would mean her stepfather wasn’t involved.

“It wouldn’t have been too hard. He could get a court order to have Jenkins released into his custody, claim he needed his help with a case. But I’m not so sure it was him.” He rose from the desk and joined her on the couch, then handed her the list.

“I knew Hoffman was there,” he said as she skimmed the names. “And Vern Collins, the detective who investigated Tommy’s case. But I’d forgotten Collins was Hoffman’s partner.”

She tore her gaze from the list. “Does that matter?”

“It might.” Parker’s mouth turned flat. “Collins left the force a few months after they shelved Tommy’s case. He got caught up in a sexual harassment charge. I don’t remember the details, but a complaint like that kills your career. He probably knew he’d never get promoted, so he left.”

Brynn waited, her eyes glued to Parker’s face. From the intensity of his expression, whatever he’d learned was big.

“I did a little research,” he said. “And guess where Collins works now? The Roxbury Correctional Institution in Hagerstown, Maryland.”

Her heart swooped. “You mean... Wasn’t that the prison where Markus Jenkins was jailed?”

“Yeah. So it looks like Hoffman got him out.”

And sent the gang leader after them.

Chapter 13

H
is boss was trying to kill him.

Feeling oddly hollow, Parker struggled to process what he’d learned.
Hoffman.
The man he’d always respected. The man who’d mentored his career. The man who’d taken him under his wing, helping restore his faith in the integrity of the police force after his father’s corruption sting. Hoffman had lied to him, manipulated him. He’d tried to do him in.

But why? And why now when they’d worked together for years? Because he was investigating Erin Walker’s death? Because he’d delayed in turning in Brynn? Or was it because he was finally closing in on Tommy’s killer after all this time?

“You think Hoffman got that gang leader out of jail,” Brynn repeated, sounding just as stunned.

“It wouldn’t be hard. He’d call up his old partner at the prison, tell him he wants Jenkins released. Collins switches up the paperwork and gets him out.”

And then Hoffman feigns outrage when the media howls about the mistake.

“And once he’s out, Jenkins attacks my agent. He kills Jamie, then tries to murder us.”

“Yeah.” After Hoffman fed Parker a story about wanting to get Brynn help.

He inhaled again, not wanting to believe it. Another man he’d looked up to had betrayed his trust. But he couldn’t dwell on that right now. He had to think, plan, figure out how to bring Hoffman down. Because if the Colonel thought he was going to win this fight, he was wrong. Dead wrong. Parker might have been slow to make the connection, but he’d be damned if he’d give up now.

He rose and stalked to the window, then braced his forearm on the glass and scowled out. The hell of it was, he couldn’t prove Hoffman’s involvement. There was no incriminating evidence, nothing to tie him to the gang leader’s release—let alone the attempt on their lives. Even his old partner’s involvement was circumstantial; Collins could claim he’d simply made a mistake.

Brynn joined him at the window a moment later. Her face was drawn, her eyes troubled, reflecting her doubts. “What about your supervisor? Where does he fit into this?”

“Damned if I know. Delgado’s not much older than I am. So he’d just started working in Homicide back then. He was there for a couple of years, then went over to the gang unit.”

“And that’s where he met Markus Jenkins.”

“Maybe.” It certainly looked suspicious. Delgado had tracked Parker’s movements. He could have fed Hoffman the story about the drugs. So was Delgado directing Hoffman, or the reverse?

Not knowing what to think, he blew out a frustrated breath. Both Hoffman and Delgado could have known the gang leader. Either could have arranged his release. And either one could have set the cops on Parker’s trail.

But only one was Tommy’s killer. Only one had a motive to want them dead.

The question was—
which one?

The office door swung open, and Brynn’s friend Haley came in. “You got a fax,” Parker told her, his mind still on the case. His instincts urged him to focus on Hoffman, given his possible involvement in the Walker girl’s death and his relationship to Brynn. But Parker couldn’t afford to discount Delgado—because if he made a mistake and guessed wrongly, Brynn would pay the price.

“Did you find out anything about my father?” Haley asked, walking over to the fax machine.

“Not yet.” But if he
had
defended Markus Jenkins, it provided yet another link in this twisted chain. “I doubt he had anything to do with his release, though.” Collins was a better bet.

But that still left both Hoffman and Delgado as potential suspects. And until he figured out who the killer was, he couldn’t trust either one.

“Oh, no,” Haley groaned, looking at her fax.

“Bad news?” Brynn asked.

“It never stops.” Haley walked over and handed the paper to Brynn. “This girl went missing last night. Any chance you’ve seen her around?”

Brynn took the page from Haley. Her gasp caused his heart to skip. “What is it?”

Her hand trembling, she turned the paper his way. On it was a picture of a preteen girl. A girl with a long, black ponytail. “It’s the girl from High Rock Camp.” The girl who’d been sitting beside Hoffman at the campfire.

And she wore that now-familiar necklace around her neck.

* * *

Her stepfather had attacked another child.

Brynn stared at the photo of the girl, her head light, the room weaving in and out of focus as the realization sank in. Hoffman had struck again. Another child was suffering the hell that she’d been through. She’d failed to stop him in time.

“Are you all right?” Parker asked, his voice sounding far away.

“Yes, I...”

“Come on. You need to sit down. You look like you’re going to faint.” He led her to the couch, and she slumped down on the threadbare cushions, jarring her injured arm.

“Here. Drink some water,” Haley thrust a bottle into her hands.

Brynn obediently took a sip, then shuddered hard, fighting down an onrush of bile. Hoffman was on the hunt. He’d harmed another innocent child. That necklace
had
to be the proof.

“Hoffman took her,” she whispered, feeling sick. “We didn’t stop him in time.”

Parker lowered himself to the couch beside her, his eyes dark with concern—and something else. Fear. Determination. Guilt?

Shaking away that wild thought, she motioned toward the fax. “The necklace she’s wearing,” she asked Haley. “Have you seen it before? We think that symbol might mean something.”

Haley studied the picture again. “No, but I can ask the girls.”

Parker climbed to his feet. “I’ll go with you. I want to hear what they have to say.”

But Haley shook her head. “You’d better stay here. They won’t talk to a cop.” Taking the paper with her, she rushed away.

Parker returned to the couch. His gaze traveled over her face. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Just scared.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. Her worst fear had just been realized. Another innocent child was at the mercy of that sadistic man. “We have to find her, Parker.”

“We will.”

“But Hoffman—”

“You don’t know for sure that he has her.”

“Of course he has her. You can’t possibly think this is a coincidence. Not when she has that necklace on.”

“It looks bad,” he agreed. “But we still need evidence. I can’t get a warrant based on a hunch.”

“You saw that picture. He sat next to her at the campfire.”

“Which he had every right to do. For God’s sake, Brynn, he’s friends with a powerful senator. He’s the head of the Criminal Investigation Division. No one’s going to go against him without proof.”

“Not even to save that child?”

He rose and paced to the window. He spun on his heel and came back. “Listen. I want to stop him as much as you do. Probably more if he had anything to do with Tommy’s death. But I need something else to go on—facts, evidence. Suspicions aren’t enough this time. If I try to have him suspended, it’s going to look personal, like I’m retaliating for his charge about drugs. I need something to back me up.”

She stared at him, slack-jawed. “I don’t believe this. He tried to arrest you. He tried to
kill
you. And you’re still protecting him?”

“I’m
not
protecting him.”

“Of course you are! He’s a cop, so of course you’re going to take his side.”

“It’s not that. It’s just...a charge like this...they’ll suspend him. Someone will leak it to the press. Word will get out that he’s a pedophile, and he’ll never recover from that. Even if he’s found innocent later, his reputation is ruined. And no matter what I
think
he’s done, I can’t destroy him without proof.”

Brynn shook her head, desperation knotting her insides. Somehow she had to convince him. They had to find Hoffman and stop him fast. But then the office door swung open, and Haley came back in. “One of the girls recognized the symbol,” she said, sounding breathless.

Brynn’s belly tensed. “What is it?”

“It sounds really sick, but it’s something pedophiles use. She says it’s like an insider symbol, a member of the club type of thing.”

So she was right. She shot Parker a pointed look. “I told you.”

But he only shook his head. “It’s still not enough. We don’t know that he gave it to her. And what if he did? He could claim he didn’t know what it meant. He can explain all this away.”

Too frustrated to sit still anymore, Brynn rose and walked to the window, then stared out at the gathering dusk. That child was in terrible danger. And she
knew
that Hoffman had her. She knew her stepfather, knew how he operated, knew the kind of child he preferred.

But she didn’t have proof. She turned to Parker again, determined to find a way. “What kind of evidence do you need?”

“Photos. Emails or phone calls. A credible victim would do.”

A credible victim.
She went stone-still. Her heart made a frantic skip. She’d been Hoffman’s victim. But would Parker believe her if she told him the truth? No one else ever had.

She closed her eyes, her belly pitching, the thought of revealing those horrific details making her want to wretch. But she had to rescue that girl—no matter what the personal cost.

And Haley was right. Parker was a good guy. He’d saved her from the drive-by shooting. He’d helped her flee the cops. In the end he might not believe her, but she knew that he’d hear her out.

Assuming she had the nerve to reveal the truth.

Another wave of dizziness barreled through her, and she placed her hand on the glass. She didn’t want to relive the past. But she had to do this. She had to reach deep inside her and find the courage to admit the truth—before another innocent victim died.

She turned to her best friend. Haley held her gaze for a moment, then nodded her approval, understanding what she intended to do. She left the office and closed the door, leaving Brynn and Parker alone.

“All right,” Brynn said, knowing she couldn’t turn back now. “If you need a victim, I’ll give you one.
Me.
”

* * *

Needing a moment to compose herself, she turned toward the window again and stared out at the small backyard. Bare branches clawed the sky. Withered bushes bowed in the fitful breeze. Dusk crept inexorably over the patio, turning the landscape an ominous, tombstone gray.

Knowing she couldn’t postpone this, that every passing second mattered to that missing girl, she inhaled and turned around. Parker leaned against the back of the sofa, his arms folded across his broad chest, his eyes inscrutable as he waited for her to speak.

“I told you my stepfather was a cop,” she began. “What I didn’t tell you is that he’s Hugh Hoffman, the C.I.D. chief. He sexually abused me when I was young. That’s why I ran away from home.”

Parker’s eyes flickered, but his face remained impassive, making her wonder if he already knew. But that was silly. How could he have figured it out? She’d been so careful not to let it slip.

Deciding she’d imagined his reaction, she forged ahead. “My dad died when I was five. Hoffman started dating my mother a year later, when I was six. At first I thought he was nice. He talked to me, paid attention to me. He took me places—swimming, fishing, roller-skating. He gave me candy and little gifts.”

She hugged her arms, ignoring the twinge of pain. “My dad and I...we were really close. I adored him. And when he died I fell apart. It was a really bad time. Then Hoffman came along. He played me perfectly. He saw that I needed attention and filled the void.”

She flattened her lips. “It was typical grooming behavior. First he established a bond. Then as soon as he married my mother, he graduated to the next stage. He started finding excuses to touch me. He hugged me, tickled me, kissed me. He had me sit on his lap while we watched TV. He always wanted to wrestle and horse around, especially if I was in my nightgown. He even came into the bathroom when I was taking a bath and insisted on drying me off. And then he started showing me pictures....”

“Stop.” Parker’s jaw turned to iron. He pushed away from the couch and strode to her side. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You need to know how he works.”

“Not if it’s too painful.” His eyes blazed into hers. “I mean it, Brynn. You don’t have to tell me this.”

She searched his eyes, tempted to take the easy way out. But if there was some clue she could reveal, some way to help that missing girl...

Taking another deep breath, she forced herself to go on. “I knew something was wrong. He seemed creepy. He was always watching me, touching me... But my mother loved him. She kept saying how great he was.”

She made a derisive sound. “And he
was
great. He drove me places. He took the time to play with me. He even volunteered at my school. And my mother fell for the act. He was her savior. We didn’t have much money after my dad died. She went back to work as a waitress, but we were just scraping by. Then Hoffman came along and supported her so she didn’t have to work so hard. So whenever I tried to tell her what he was doing, she just got mad. She accused me of making things up.

“And then he began to abuse me.” She closed her eyes, trembling wildly, her mind caught up in the dreadful past. “I won’t go into the details.” Bad enough that she’d suffered through it. She couldn’t inflict that horror on him. “But he...he likes violence. The more he hurt me, the more excited he got.”

“Brynn...” Parker’s voice broke, but she had to go on. She had to tell him the rest before she lost her nerve.

“He gave me gifts afterward. The worse the attack, the bigger the gift. That’s why when I saw the necklace...”

Parker clenched his hands. Fury and indignation burned in his eyes. “You reported this, right?”

She gave him a bitter smile. “Yeah, I reported it. But no one believed me. He claimed I’d misunderstood, or that I’d exaggerated or lied. That I was acting out against him because he’d taken my father’s place. And everyone believed him because he was so nice. All the teachers liked him. He coached my soccer team. And he was a cop. You know what his reputation is like. Of course they believed him over me. Even my mother bought the story. She thought he could do no wrong.