Gotcha! (16 page)

The words bounced around his brain. Just how serious was he about her?

Serious enough.

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze met his, and she shot up, blinking the sleepy look away. “I really need to get back to my car,” she said.

From the stubborn tilt of her chin, he knew she was going to try to get rid of him. He also knew it wasn’t going to work.

Dusk had turned everything gray as Billy exited the freeway and headed toward Nan’s house.
Toward home
, he thought. He could hardly remember living anywhere else. Sure, there were a few mental snapshots of times before his dad left, mostly of his dad hitting things. Hitting his mom. Hitting Mace. Billy recalled telling Andy that he missed his dad. Funny, how you could miss people you hardly remembered and weren’t even sure you liked.

At last he pulled into Nan’s neighborhood. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as if someone was watching. He forced himself to keep driving. He needed the fake ID. His mom and Nan would be at Yoga Works. Nan had classes on Wednesday evenings.

He turned onto Nan’s street, the street where he’d tossed the football with his friends, the street where Macy had taught him to ride his bike. Memories assaulted him. Bittersweet memories. He eased off the gas as the van rolled closer. Nan’s house was dark except for the porch light. He’d almost pulled over, when he noticed a sedan parked across the street. Shit! It had to be the police.

Billy drove past and prayed the car wouldn’t follow. It didn’t. He let out a breath. He drove two more blocks, checking the rearview mirror constantly. Finally, he pulled to a stop.

What now? His palms had started to sweat. He clenched and unclenched them around the steering wheel.
Leave.
That one word echoed inside Billy’s head. He put his foot on the gas. But without the fake ID he’d never get into Girls Galore. Without getting in and talking to Jamie Clay, Tanks’s ex-girlfriend, he might never find Tanks.

He cut off the engine. He had to get that ID.

Getting out of the car, he looked at the elderly Mrs. Perry’s house, located one block behind Nan’s. He could jump her fence and the cops in front might not even notice.

Might not. But if he got caught…

He walked past Mrs. Perry’s front porch. Not seeing anyone, he ducked between the two houses. A German shepherd warming a doormat on the back porch barked and lunged.

Crap! Billy hauled his ass to the back fence and hurled himself over. He landed hard. His hand came down on a rock that cut into his palm. The fence beside him wobbled as the dog clawed the aged wood, and his shrieking bark warned the whole damn neighborhood.

“Smoky?” Mrs. Perry called. “What is it?” Her question mingled with the scratching of the dog’s claws on the fence. The sound of footsteps kept Billy from stirring. “Who’s there? Somebody there?”

Macy settled into her pizza-scented vehicle. Her gaze shot to the parking lot of Yoga Works. She was curious to see her mother’s hair, but her mom’s car—and thus her and her hair—was already gone.

She pulled her Saturn out into the street and watched Jake’s Monte Carlo follow. He flashed his lights as if to remind her to turn hers on. Great, now the man was telling her how to drive. She shot him a quick scowl in her rearview mirror and then hit her lights. Stopping at a yellow signal, she dug into her front pocket to make sure she hadn’t lost the names and addresses she’d taken from his file.

She slipped out the folded paper and stared at it. Tomorrow, she would do her own investigation. Hopefully, somehow, one of the addresses or phone numbers would lead her to her brother. Then by the grace of God, she’d talk Billy into turning himself in. She’d worry about what his prison escape would do to his sentence once she had him off the streets. With the help of a good lawyer, maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. She could hope.

Fighting back the feeling of doom, she tucked the paper back into her khaki shorts and stared up at the stoplight. From the corner of her eye, a movement in the car next to her caught her attention. She turned.

“Crappers!”

Jake spotted the end of the gun. “Son of a…” His breath hitched.

No time to go for his Glock. No time to think. He slammed his foot on the gas, rear-ending Macy’s Saturn. The screech of crashing metal came at the same time as the blast of a gun. Panic crushed his chest. Macy’s green Saturn shot into the intersection. A white Honda smashed into the front of it. The impact sent the Saturn spinning.

Jake yanked out his gun. He shoved his car into park, aiming his Glock at the gunman’s car. The car burst forward, ran the red light. A garbage truck swerved to miss it and crashed into the side of a hearse. The sound of brakes, of metal slamming into metal, and the smell of hot rubber were terrifying.

Jake leapt out of his car as a coffin flew out of the back of the hearse. The casket spun across the road, slamming into Macy’s Saturn, bounced off, and kept spinning. Jake managed to get his phone out as he ran. He dodged cars and the still-twirling coffin to get to Macy. He screamed into the phone, “I need backup. Shots fired. Several automobile accidents.” He added the name of the intersection into the phone as his gaze riveted on Macy’s car. The sight of the shattered driver side window caused air to lock in his chest. He remembered the sound of a bullet being fired.

“A gold Cavalier,” he added, and forced himself to spout out the license plate number. “Going southwest on North Banks. Suspect is armed.” He called out his location again. “Get some ambulances here. Now, damn it!”

Macy couldn’t breathe. She forced her eyes open and felt blinded by white. Memories flashed. A gun. Getting hit from behind. Being thrown against her seat. Slamming her head against the steering wheel. Careening into the intersection. Another bone-jarring jolt, then the car spinning. And…a coffin?

A coffin? Oh, God. Was this
the
white? As in, The White Light? As in, The End? If so, why wasn’t it beautiful? Why didn’t she want to go into it? Or did she want to?

No!

She opened her mouth to scream and got a mouthful of a chalky substance. Her mental fog started to lift. And she saw…not the path to the afterlife, just the freaking air bag. She sat back, gasped, and that’s when she saw red. Red all over the white air bag. Red, as in blood.

Her vision blurred. Black spots started popping up like fireworks in front of her eyes. She recalled another car hitting her. People could be hurt!

She opened the door. It creaked in protest but complied. She got one foot out of the car, and it landed on the street with a heavy thud. She saw more black spots.

“Macy,” someone called. She twisted, got her second foot out of the car. Between the black splotches, she saw Baldwin dodging a spinning coffin to get to her. Yup, it was really a coffin. Damn, he looked…hot? Good thing she wasn’t dead, because she’d have regretted never…Never what? Seeing him naked? Doing the naked Hokey Pokey? Okay, obviously she wasn’t thinking straight.

She heard a car door open. A man stepped out of a wrecked Honda. He looked okay. No blood. She recalled the blood smeared on her air bag and then felt something warm drip down her forehead. She pulled herself upright and felt more blood. Her knees buckled, and…

She felt herself being lifted, pulled close. Baldwin? Okay, maybe she should start calling him Jake now. Her cheek found his masculine chest a perfect pillow. Black fireworks floated across her vision again. She inhaled. “Jake, you smell…good.” Then her whole world went black.

Billy didn’t move until Mrs. Perry’s back door shut. Then he ran across the yard toward the window of his bedroom.

Please, let it be unlocked.

He pushed himself up, his bleeding palm stinging. When the window rose, relief filled his chest. Hoisting himself over the sill, he fell inside and smacked against the dresser.

Damn.

He crawled to his feet. His heart throbbed as he listened, expecting someone to bolt into the room. Nothing but the empty-house hum met his ears. He started toward the bed but slowed down long enough to enjoy the smells: Nan’s incense that she burned when practicing yoga. Residual scent of his mom’s breakfast, two slices of bacon and one egg every morning. He’d bet the cast-iron skillet sat on the gas stove now, shiny because his mom always greased it after use. After all these years, the smells had simply infused the home.

His next breath came flavored with the baby power that his mom used after showering. God, he missed these people. Walking to the door, he creaked it open and fed his lungs a breath of home.

The gas stove gave off a tiny hiss, the water heater an occasional creak. Then a grandfather clock chimed and reminded him he had to hurry. He inched back to his bed, dropped onto his knees, and sandwiched his hand between the mattress and box springs. His fingers brushed the edge of a fake ID.

Yes.

He stood. Then he swung round when he heard the sound of the front door opening. Damn! Dropping back to his knees, he eyed the window.

“Thank you for helping me,” his mom’s voice echoed from the other room. “Unloading groceries can’t be in your job description.”

“You’d be surprised what the federal bureau assigns us sometimes,” a man answered.

Federal bureau? Billy’s mind started chewing on options.

“Let me get you a glass of tea,” his mother offered.

“Tea would be great.”

Billy’s gaze flew to the bedroom door he’d left ajar. He saw someone pass outside the door. Falling flat on his back, he squeezed himself under the bed.

Holy hell. He was stuck in the house while his mother fucking entertained an FBI agent.

Jake arrived at the hospital only a few minutes behind the ambulance. They saw the blood on him and thought he was hurt, but he assured them he wasn’t. They’d tried to stop him from coming back; he hadn’t listened. He stalked into the emergency room, peering into all the rooms until he found Macy. She lay stretched on a bed, blood streaming down her face. He tried to go to her, but the nurse moved between them.

“Why don’t you step outside?” the nurse asked.

“It’s okay,” he gritted out through his teeth. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“He’s
not
my boyfriend,” Macy mumbled.

Jake’s gaze shot up. He pushed the nurse aside to get to her. “You okay?” When she’d passed out, he’d been frantic. “You hurting anywhere?”

“No,” she said. It sounded like a lie.

He shot the nurse a look. “Get the doctor in here.”

This is my fault, damn it!
He’d pushed her right into oncoming traffic. He could have killed her, though he’d been trying to save her life.

“Calm down,” the nurse said. “Move out and let me do my job. The doctor’s on his way.”

Macy’s blood continued to flow. Guilt took another tumble around his chest. The nurse put a hand on his arm.

He jerked out his wallet and flashed his badge. “I’m a cop.”

“And I’m a nurse. Out!” She pointed to the door.

He took a step but didn’t leave. The nurse glared. “Get out while I undress her.”

Did she think he was here to get a cheap thrill? “Look—”

“If I’m arguing with you, I can’t take care of her.” The statement slapped Jake back to the right side of logic.

Get a grip.

Relenting, he stormed out into the hall. The smell filled his nose, his mouth. What little control he had over his emotions started to slip. This was the smell of hopelessness. He hated hospitals. Memories flooded him: Sitting beside a skeleton of a man who’d stood behind the pulpit preaching about God’s mercy. Watching his father face a painful and humiliating death. Where had God’s mercy been then?

Fear curled inside Jake’s chest. Yesteryear’s emotions—the feeling of despair, the ugly acceptance that someone he loved was dying—all mingled with the present.

“No.” He inhaled. Damn it, he had to calm down. Macy was going to be okay.

He moved up and down the hall. Finally, able to think, he pulled out his phone and hit Donaldson’s number. “Tell me you got him,” he growled.

“Not yet. We’ve put an APB out on the car. If he’s still around, we’ll get him.”

“Damn it to hell! I want this creep.”

“I know.” Silence. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s conscious. The doctor hasn’t seen her yet.” Frustration sang in his voice. “Hold on.” He snagged a white-coated man by the arm and pointed to Macy’s door. “The patient in there needs to be seen. She’s bleeding.”

“That’s where I’m heading,” the doctor answered in an even tone. But when he stepped toward Macy’s room and Jake followed, the doctor turned around. “Let me examine her. Then I’ll give you a personal report.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake backed up and collapsed against the hospital’s white wall.
Let her be okay
, he prayed. Then, remembering Donaldson, he pressed the phone back to his ear. “Did you call the Gulf Coast Task Force?”

“Yeah. I think Agent James is on his way there.”

“Good.” Jake closed his eyes. James would be pissed at him. Shit, Jake was pissed at himself. The second time in one day, he’d been within an arm’s reach of the escaped convict and had let him get away.

“Was anybody hurt besides Macy?” Donaldson asked.

“No.” Jake filled his lungs, trying not to taste the anesthetic-scented air.

“Good,” Donaldson said. “Is it true that a dead guy got spilled across the median?”

“He didn’t fall out of his coffin, but the news will have a field day.”

Jake looked up to see his captain and Agent James walking down the hall. Neither of them looked happy, but they could just join him in the not-happy club. He wouldn’t be content until he knew Macy was okay. “Gotta go,” he told Donaldson. “Keep looking.”

Billy tried not to breathe too loud and stared up at the gauzy material covering the box springs of his old bed. He wondered about his chances of making it out the window without anyone hearing.

A phone rang—not the home phone, but a cell phone. “Excuse me,” the agent said.

Billy heard steps move closer to the bedroom door. Angling his head, he could see the man’s suit pants through the crack in the door. God, don’t let his mom notice the open door.

“Who?” The agent’s voice carried. “I’m talking to her mother right now.” A pause. “Is she going to make it?”

Make it? Macy? No!
Billy’s heart drummed in his chest.

“Good. We sure it was Tanks?” Silence. “Really? Damn, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be Baldwin when Agent James gets hold of him.” Another pause. “I’ll tell her.”

Billy gripped his fist as panic scratched his chest.

“Ma’am…” The agent’s tone came out unsure. “That call was about your daughter. She’s been in an accident.”

The empty pit of Billy’s stomach got rock hard.

“Is she okay? What kind of accident?” Tears already sounded in his mom’s voice.

“A car accident. I’m told she’s stable right now. She was taken to Memorial Hospital.”

Billy closed his eyes and visualized Macy sitting across the table from him at the prison. So smart, so full of life. Now she lay in a hospital, hurting. She could die.

I’m going to kill you, Tanks. I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to enjoy doing it!

After a few minutes, he heard the front door close. Billy climbed out from under the bed. He paced the bedroom once, then twice. He had to know if Macy was okay. But how?

“Are you okay?” both men asked, looking at all the blood on Jake’s shirt.

Jake assured them he was okay and that he had a clean shirt in his car. Shortly thereafter, the ass chewing began.

“You could have gone after him!” his captain snapped.

“I did what I had to do. Macy was hurt.” Jake kept his eyes on the door of Macy’s room, waiting for the doctor to finish. His mind flashed on the image of the gun sticking out of that window. Pushing Macy into the intersection had been his only choice. Hadn’t it?

“You’re too close to this. I’m taking you off the case,” his captain said.

Jake looked at him. “I’m not officially
on
the case.”

His captain shook his head. “Well, if you were, I’d take you off.”

“If I was, I’d take myself off,” he admitted. Taking care of Macy had become personal. He looked from one man to the other. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing Tanks’s ass back in prison, and I’ll do anything I can to assure that, but Macy Tucker is my priority. And if I have to take some time off to—”

“That reminds me, what were you doing there, anyway?” his captain asked.

“It was my lunch break.”

Agent James ran a hand over his face. “We should have had a man on her twenty-four-seven. After Mimms…Well, there will be one on her from here on out.”

The doctor walked out of Macy’s room, and Jake swung around. “How is she?”

“Nasty cut and concussion. I’m going to have her X-rayed. She’s going to need stitches. I’d like to keep her overnight, but…”

“You keep her,” Jake snapped.

“She’s not willing.” The doctor frowned. “Anyway, unless something shows up on her X-rays, she’ll go home. Who’ll be taking care of her?”

“I will,” Jake said.

“You’re the husband?”

“Boyfriend,” Jake said.

“He’s not the boyfriend,” the nurse said, walking out of the room.

Jake frowned. The nurse frowned. The doctor frowned and said, “Does she have family?”

“Shit. I need to call them.” Jake pulled out his cell phone.

“I had someone talk to the mom,” Agent James said. He was giving Jake an odd look, probably because of the claim of being Macy’s boyfriend. Jake’s captain was doing the same.

The doctor glanced back at Jake. “I’ll have the nurse go over the care instructions. You’ll need to keep a close eye on her.”

“Can we talk to her now?” Agent James flashed his badge.

The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “Only for a minute or two. I’ll be back in a few to stitch her up.”

Jake, followed by the two men, walked into Macy’s room. She was sitting up.

“You okay?” he asked.

Her color had improved, but she didn’t seem happy to see him. He didn’t blame her.

“My head hurts, but I’m fine,” she said.

“Can you tell us what happened?” the captain asked.

Jake took her hand. “If you don’t feel like talking now—”

She looked at his captain. “I was going home. I stopped at a light. I saw the gun, then…”

“Then I ran into you,” Jake confessed, hoping it would lessen the guilt building in his chest. “I saw the gun. It was the first thing I thought of.” Tension vibrated through his body.

“
You
caused the accident?” the captain bellowed. “Jesus! Three cars and a hearse were wrecked and…and that damn casket! When the press gets a hold of this—”

“I was trying to save your life.” Jake kept his eyes on Macy. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what the captain thought. It was Macy he’d hurt.

She glanced at the captain. “He may have hit me, but I ran the light. It was the gun or that white Honda. I decided to take the Honda.”

Jake’s mind replayed the moment his car had rear-ended her. The jolting impact. He’d heard her tires burn into the asphalt. She hadn’t been moving forward. She was lying to protect him.

“No, I—” His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, praying it would be Donaldson with good news. “Tell me you got the bastard.”

“Is my sister okay?”

The voice sent red flags flying up everywhere. Jake’s gaze darted to Agent James. The man’s eyes widened with a silent question. Jake nodded. The agent pulled his cell phone out and started punching in numbers.

“What do you mean?” Jake spoke the question while looking at Macy. Oblivious that he was speaking to Billy, she’d sunk deeper into her bed and closed her eyes.