Justifiable Risk (30 page)

She tiptoed back up, placed the comforter inside the apartment, and peeked in at Greer. She appeared to be asleep again. Eva closed the door and left quietly. Maybe she’d go for a drive to clear her head. Walking would be asking for trouble. If Greer were awake, she’d argue that either was too dangerous. But Eva could take care of herself, and she’d be cautious. She’d be observant and head for a public place where she could drink coffee and think—the diner. She needed time to process, and she couldn’t while Greer was so close.

At the bottom of the stairs Bessie’s old Honda seemed to be waiting patiently. She fished the spare set of keys Bessie had given her from her purse, put the car in neutral, and let it roll out of the garage.

At the bottom of the driveway, she cranked the car and headed toward town. Any other time she would be investigating Paul’s death, putting pressure on those who were, or developing informants to help find Baron Wallace. But tonight a more pressing issue demanded her attention. Tonight she had to decide about the rest of her life. Was that the real reason she left Greer’s bed? Or was she simply doing what she usually did when someone tried to get too close—running away?

The assignment from her boss would be the perfect out, but it didn’t pique her enthusiasm as others had in the past. Perhaps she needed to reconsider her other professional options. CNN had offered her her own show, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to give up the excitement and travel. So far this drive wasn’t helping her concentration or providing any answers.

She slowed as she approached the first stoplight on the outskirts of New Hope and noticed for the first time how dark it was at this end of town. Either she’d been too preoccupied to notice before, or her recent brushes with death had made her more attentive. She stopped and waited as several cars crossed through the intersection. The last one in the line stalled directly in front of her and the driver got out.

The man wore a pair of torn blue jeans, black sweatshirt, and a ball cap pulled low on his forehead. It concerned Eva that she couldn’t see his eyes. Alarm shot through her as he neared her car. She clicked the door-lock button and scanned the area for an escape route. Her years as a foreign correspondent had taught her to trust her instincts.

“I’m sorry about this, ma’am. I’ll get it started soon as I can.” The man shrugged in apology but still didn’t make eye contact.

Eva kept her window rolled up but asked, “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“That would be real nice, ma’am,” he replied as his gaze darted around the area.

Something about this guy was familiar in a scary way. “Okay, I’ll make the call,” she said as she simultaneously floored the gas pedal, swerved around his vehicle, and left him standing in the middle of the road. Eva turned to retrieve her cell phone and looked in her rearview mirror. As the man was running to his car, she glimpsed his face in the illumination from the streetlight. He resembled the man in the picture Greer had shown her—Baron Wallace. She dialed 911, reported the suspicious activity, and described the man and his vehicle. Eva identified the man as Baron Wallace. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but the pieces fit. Eva told the dispatcher she’d be at the diner if an officer wanted to talk with her.

When she found a corner seat and ordered coffee, Eva let the fear the encounter elicited surface. She clenched her shaking hands into fists and willed them to be still. The staccato beat of her heart slowed as she regulated her breathing. This was the third time someone, probably Baron Wallace, had tried to harm her since she arrived in New Hope. She didn’t worry about being in danger on her job. She assumed she’d be okay. But this was personal, and though it frightened her, she wouldn’t back down.

Eva kept her eye on the street out front for the man who’d feigned car trouble. Baron Wallace had probably stalked her, and if he was brazen and desperate enough to accost her in the middle of the street, he wouldn’t hesitate to try again. Until Wallace was taken into custody or the nagging feeling in the back of her mind disappeared, Eva was content to wait in a safe public place that served potable coffee. She’d waited out security lockdowns, dust storms, and media blackouts in much worse places.

When the waitress passed with Eva’s second cup of coffee, her adrenaline rush had taken a backseat to the caffeine surge. She scribbled the pros and cons of her own CNN show on one side of a napkin and the points for and against a relationship with Greer on the other side. If she ran out of ideas on one topic, she flipped the flimsy paper over and worked on the other.

After cup number three and a couple of hours, Eva’s mind was spinning with possibilities and her future seemed more promising. She was ready to talk with Greer about their life. As Eva left a hefty tip to compensate for occupying the table so long, a young police officer entered the diner and headed toward her.

“Ms. Saldana?”

“Yes?”

“Just wanted to let you know that we haven’t found your guy yet, but we’re still looking. You need a ride somewhere?”

“No, thanks. I have my car out back.”

“Let me walk with you. It’s pretty secluded out there. If I don’t get a call, I’ll follow you to the city limits. I’d feel better knowing you’re on your way again.”

The young man followed Eva to her vehicle, waited until she was safely inside, then returned to his patrol car. As they pulled to the exit, the officer activated his lights and siren and took off in the opposite direction.
So much for the escort
, she thought.

Eva was about to pull out of the lot when her driver’s-side window shattered with a tremendous crash. Fragments of flying glass pelleted her face and body, stinging and burning as they cut and scratched her. She tried to dial 911 but Baron Wallace stuck a gun to her head.

“Drop the phone and put the car in park. Now!” He punctuated his order by shoving the gun barrel to her temple. Then he opened the door, dragged her from the car, and pushed her onto the uneven ground.

Eva slammed onto the hard surface with a thud. Her knees hit the pavement and her legs went momentarily numb. Her heart raced as she thought about how to defend herself. She had practically no upper-body strength. If she stood, her chances were better. But every self-defense class she’d taken cautioned against resisting an armed subject. Screw that. She’d take her chances fighting.

“Get up and don’t try anything stupid,” Wallace ordered.

Eva rose slowly and held her arm as if injured. Before she straightened completely, she jabbed her elbow into Wallace’s groin in an upward motion and ran toward the diner. Her heart pounded like it might burst out of her chest as fear and adrenaline propelled her forward. She prayed her daily running ritual would finally pay off as she pumped her arms and sprinted at top speed.

But Wallace’s superior height gave him the advantage. She heard his footfalls getting closer until he shoved her in the back. She fell forward and the rough asphalt peeled skin from her forearms and elbows. He pressed his foot against the back of her neck and pushed.

“If you try that again, I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand?”

The pressure on her throat made speech difficult. “Yes,” she managed to whisper.

“Good, now get up.”

Wallace grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her toward a residential area behind the diner. Why was she still alive? He had the perfect opportunity to kill her when she ran. Did he want to torture and kill her slowly? Rape then kill her? Use her as a hostage for some reason? It could be any of those or none. She wasn’t good at thinking like a murderer. Wallace repeatedly jabbed her with the gun muzzle as he walked her into the carport of a house that appeared to be vacant, then pointed to a vehicle covered by a tarpaulin.

“Take it off and get in.”

She removed the tarp, slid across the driver’s seat of the car, and immediately reached for the door handle. Her heart sank as she realized it had been removed. It wasn’t in her nature to give up, but her options were slowly disappearing. She wanted to scream and cry, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing one shred of emotion. When her captor got behind the wheel, Eva asked, “Why are you doing this, Baron?”

“I warned you to leave town.”

Greer stretched across the bed and realized that Eva hadn’t returned. The covers on her side were cold and the room felt empty. She stared at the ceiling, deciding that Eva had probably gone back to the main house before Bessie woke. The thought filled her with more sadness than she would have anticipated. She’d wanted to wake up with Eva by her side, make love with her, then talk about their future—if there could be one.

Yesterday she’d finally released her tremendous guilt over Clare’s death and admitted her feelings for Eva. So much had happened in the past twelve hours and it all seemed right—until she’d overheard Eva’s conversation with her boss. Then the questions returned: did Eva have feelings for her, was a life together possible, was it something Eva wanted, and would they have time to explore their options?

Greer could see herself with this woman for years, if they could resolve the differences that kept them apart. But they wouldn’t have a chance unless Eva decided that for herself. Greer couldn’t influence her choice. One thing was certain—she was falling in love with Eva, and that knowledge frightened her as much as it energized her. She stretched again, buried her face in the pillow Eva had slept on, and inhaled. The familiar fragrance infused her with an immediate desire to see and talk with Eva again.

Greer imagined Eva and Bessie sitting around the kitchen table having their first cup of coffee, allowing her to sleep as long as possible. She’d showered, dressed, and started toward the house when her cell phone rang.

“Ellis.”

“Hey, partner.” JJ’s voice had that cautious tone she associated with bad news.

“What’s wrong?”

“Agent Long shared some not-so-good news with me this morning and asked if I’d brief you. The second set of test results came back on the sergeant’s clothing. They were the same.”

Greer let his statement register. The line was quiet for a few seconds as they both considered the ramifications. “That means he had to have seen who shot him. Why would he lie about that? You don’t think—” She didn’t want to admit Sergeant Fluharty was somehow involved in Tom’s death and the attempt on Eva’s life. And if that was possible, by extension, was he also mixed up in Paul’s murder?

“I think we have to stay objective, for the moment. But it doesn’t look good. Agent Long is briefing the chief this morning and probably bringing the sarge in for questioning. And…”

“There’s more?” Greer couldn’t imagine how it could get any worse.

“The clerk’s office can’t find the officer sign-in sheet for the day of the shooting. So Long can’t verify whether Breeze was in court like he said.”

“Does he think Breeze could’ve had something to do with this?”

“It makes about as much sense as the sarge being involved. But Breeze did work on the drug task force. It wouldn’t be the first time a good cop turned the corner for drugs or money.”

“I’m not buying it. Let me know if anything else comes up before I get there. I’m leaving home in about ten minutes.” Greer’s informant had told her a cop was involved in drugs, but she’d dismissed it at the time. Could it be Breeze or the sergeant? If Baron Wallace was the shooter in Tom’s death, was one of them covering for him? The only good connection between a drug dealer and a cop was an arrest. Did Wallace have something on one of them or were they in business together?

“I’ll do it.” JJ’s voice trailed off and Greer heard some chatter on his walkie-talkie in the background. “Hold up, Greer. You need to know about this too.”

“What?” When she stepped up on the back deck of the house, Bessie came out with a coffee cup in her hand and a quizzical look on her face.

“Patrol guys have an abandoned vehicle in the diner parking lot. It’s Bessie’s old Honda. The engine was running, driver’s window smashed, and nobody around. Where’s Bessie?”

“She’s right here.” When the other possibility occurred to Greer, her legs threatened to give way. “Don’t let them move that car.” She disconnected and asked Bessie, “Where’s Eva?”

“I have no idea, honey. I thought she was still with you in the apartment.” She looked toward the garage. “Is the Honda still here?”

She shook her head. “It’s in the diner parking lot. Why would she leave without telling one of us? After all that’s happened lately, she should know better. Where the hell is she?” Greer’s insides tightened as the list of worst-case scenarios flashed through her mind.

“Don’t be negative. She’s a firecracker and knows how to talk her way out of just about anything. Give her some credit, but find her, fast.” The more Bessie talked, the less certainty Greer heard behind her words of encouragement.

“I have to go. I’ll call when I know anything.” Greer hugged her and vaulted off the deck toward her bike. What seemed like an interminable ride ended a few minutes later when she pulled alongside the patrol car positioned behind Bessie’s Honda.

The beat officer stepped aside as Greer approached and asked, “Is this your aunt’s car, Detective?” Greer nodded. “Was she driving it or was it stolen?”

“Neither. She loaned it to a friend, Eva Saldana.”

The look of recognition on the officer’s face told Greer that he was familiar with the recent events surrounding her arrival in town. “I’ve called for a crime-scene tech and a wrecker.”