Smoke Screen (38 page)

Steiner nodded. “That, too. After everything we’d read and heard, we figured you might want vengeance against all of them, including Ms. Shelley. You had motivation, we wanted to check out your opportunity.”

“Did you have a search warrant that day?”

“No, but we had probable cause to go inside.”

“How’s that?”

“We looked in the windows and I saw the women’s clothing scattered across your bed. New clothing. Some of it still in shopping bags. None of our research into you included a woman currently in your life. So when we saw the clothes, we thought we’d better go inside and check it out.”

Drolly, Steiner said, “Turns out our instincts were right. You’d kidnapped her.”

Raley glanced down at Britt, who smiled up at him, then addressed the agents. “Once Raley explained to me how he’d been set up with Suzi Monroe, much as I’d been set up with Jay, we formed an alliance to get to the bottom of it.”

“We figured maybe you two had joined forces,” Miller said. “We saw no signs of struggle. And if a man is about to kill a woman, he doesn’t usually buy her new clothes first.”

Britt said, “We would have explained everything if you’d stayed and identified yourselves. Why did you leave? Raley’s truck was there, you knew we had to be close by.”

“The funeral. We had to get back in time for it. We wanted to see who turned up, gauge reactions and such.” Miller looked at Raley askance, a bit of egg on his face. “We didn’t know you’d marked us until you left the cemetery and it became obvious that you knew we were following you.” Then he looked at Britt. “Nice trick with the tires, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“When you came charging out of your rooms after her, why didn’t you identify yourselves as FBI?”

“Would you have believed it, raised your hands, and surrendered?” Miller asked.

Remembering him chasing after Britt wearing nothing but his underwear, Raley smiled. “No.”

“I shouted ‘FBI,’” Steiner said, “but you gunned the car. I didn’t have my ID, my weapon, nothing to convince you, and you were aiming that cannon at us.”

“Lucky I didn’t shoot.”

“Yeah, lucky. Today, too.”

Reminded of when he’d faced off against them in George’s study, Raley asked, “What’ll happen to George McGowan?”

“Well, we’ve got the video of your interview with him, but a good defense lawyer will argue it’s not admissible. Except for that cigarette lighter, all the evidence is circumstantial. He’s got big money behind him, so he may be able to buy himself an acquittal.”

“Or maybe he’ll stick to his confession,” Steiner mused aloud.

“Why would he?” Miller asked.

Raley knew why. George might prefer prison to the hell on earth he was living with Miranda and Les. Either way, the man’s situation was pathetic.

“Pat Wickham has said he’ll back up Raley’s statement,” Miller said.

“He no longer has to be afraid of retribution from Candy Mellors,” Britt said. “She had him living in fear for himself and his family.”

In his deposition, Raley had related how he and Britt had ambushed Pat Jr. outside the gay bar and admitted to seeing the agents there. Miller had explained that they were acting on the same hunch that Pat was hiding his sexual orientation and that his secret was somehow linked to the other events.

He and his family had been located at a lake resort in Arkansas. At present, he was in custody, charged with obstruction of justice. Raley felt sorry for him actually, and hoped that, if he was convicted, a merciful judge wouldn’t send him to prison. Raley felt even more compassion for the younger man’s wife and children, perhaps the only real innocents in the whole affair. Their lives would be affected by the scandal; there was no way to avoid it.

“Johnson was apprehended on his way to McGowan’s place,” Miller informed them. “He and Smith are well known to the bureau, by a variety of names. They’ve been flying under the radar for years, protected by people in high places for whom they did dirty work. We’re glad to have them. Neither will ever know another day of freedom.”

“At least Johnson won’t have Cobb Fordyce’s murder on his résumé,” Britt said.

A hospital spokesperson had announced earlier that evening that the attorney general’s condition had improved. Following surgery to remove the bullet, he had regained consciousness. He had recognized his wife and had even spoken her name. Doctors were cautiously optimistic. It remained to be seen how much impairment he would suffer, but at least he was alive and, for the time being, stable.

“As for Cassandra Mellors…” Steiner paused and looked meaningfully at Raley before continuing. “Her superficial wounds have been treated, but the doctors are concerned about her state of mind. She’s being kept at the hospital for observation. She’s under suicide watch. There’s a guard outside her door, a nurse and a police-woman inside the room with her.”

Raley nodded.

A heavy silence descended over them. It was finally broken by Miller. “Nobody would have blamed you, or second-guessed you, Mr. Gannon. The SWAT officers would have attested to your effort to save her. They said that, even at risk to yourself, you refused to let go.”

“He would never have let go,” Britt said. Raley looked at her. Her eyes were soft and liquid. “Not in a million years.”

His throat seized up with emotion over her understanding. He could no more have let go of Candy’s hand and sent her to her death than he could have sprouted wings and flown off the roof. So he’d held on against impossible odds, fighting the relentless pull of gravity and his own physical limitations, maintaining his grip on her slippery hand, and gradually, painfully, pulling her up until the SWAT officers could catch her arms and haul her onto the roof to safety.

And arrest.

“Brave, you jumping out that window after her,” Miller remarked.

“Not brave at all.” Raley explained his familiarity with the building. “I knew when I went through the window I wouldn’t have a long fall.”

“Well, still…,” Miller said, “nobody else jumped through it.” After another brief silence, he stood up quickly and made himself look busy by stacking his file folders. “That’s all for now. Those detectives may want to take their own deposition. You’ll probably be subpoenaed to testify in the upcoming trials. But as far as we’re concerned, we’re finished for now. Go home. Lie down before you fall down.”

With an effort, Raley stood up. Britt helped support him as he shook hands with Miller. “I’m glad I didn’t shoot you.”

The agent grinned. “Me, too.”

Steiner offered to drive them wherever they needed to go, and they accepted. But as they exited the building, the agent drew up short and exclaimed, “What in the Sam Hill…?”

S
TANDING ON THE CURB IN FRONT OF
F
RANKENSTEIN WAS
Delno Pickens. He’d put on shoes for the trip into the city, but only one strap of his overalls was hooked, leaving most of his upper body bare. Under the streetlight, the sprouts of woolly white hair created a weird-looking aura.

Raley could well understand Steiner’s astonishment. “That’s my friend.”

“Our
friend,” Britt said.

Delno eyed Steiner up and down as the three of them approached. He scowled his disapproval of the agent, then spat tobacco juice into the gutter.

Raley asked, “What in the world are you doing here, Delno?”

“I came to bust y’all out. I saw on the TV y’all being escorted out of the hospital emergency room by the feds.” He gave Steiner another baleful look and snorted with disdain.

“We’re not under arrest.” Raley explained that he’d been giving a deposition. “We’re finished and on our way home.”

“Well, that’s good then,” Delno said. “I can give you a ride.”

Raley hesitated, then said, “Thanks. That would be great.”

Steiner seemed reluctant to release them to Delno. Raley assured him that the old man looked stranger than he was. “He’s harmless. Basically.”

The agent shook hands with them in turn and wished them good luck—looking like he meant it—then returned to the building.

Raley helped Britt into the passenger side of Delno’s contraption and climbed in beside her, saying softly, “Be afraid.”

Britt gave Delno directions to her house, then she and Raley talked him through the events of the last couple of days. Raley concluded by telling his neighbor that what had started five years ago was finally over and relegated to the past, where it would stay.

Delno grumbled, “Good. Maybe your disposition will improve some.”

Despite the remark, Raley knew Delno shared his relief that it was, at last, over. As did his parents. He’d called them while waiting for his broken arm to be set, fearing they would hear headlines even in Augusta and fret. He’d told them that there was a lot to tell, but the upshot of it was that he’d been vindicated, and those who were responsible for Suzi Monroe’s death would be punished. His mom had cried. He thought maybe his dad had got choked up, too.

Turning onto Britt’s street, they were relieved to see that no media were staked out at her house. When Raley remarked on it, she said, “It’s been a heavy news day. First Fordyce, then Judge Mellors. The arrest of George McGowan. No one’s interested in me.”

As Delno clambered out and helped her from the vehicle, he said, “Don’t go being modest. I heard you’re scheduled for a TV interview in the morning.”

“I accepted the invitation, but only if certain conditions were met.”

“Well, this is one viewer who’ll be watching.”

She clasped both his hands in hers, then leaned forward and hugged him. “Thanks for the ride, Delno. Thanks for everything.”

He whipped the battered straw hat off his head and placed it over his heart. “My pleasure.” Then he nodded toward Raley’s arm sling and asked if he was going to be all right.

“The doc said it was a clean break, should heal in a few weeks.”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t get yourself killed. Jumping out of a window. Damn fool thing to do.” He spat again and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You coming back?”

“To the cabin?”

“Now that you’re a big shot, I thought maybe you’d be moving up, leaving the neighborhood.”

Raley was touched. He saw past his neighbor’s thorny exterior and knew the old man would miss him if he no longer lived nearby. “You can’t get rid of me. I’ll be back. And while I’m away, don’t set any traps where I’m likely to be walking.”

Delno’s maw was brown and sloppy with chewed tobacco, but it was an earnest grin. He climbed back into the amalgamated vehicle, and with a dozen distinguishable grinds, clatters, and clangs, it bounced down the street.

Raley, almost too exhausted to move, followed Britt up the walkway and into the house. After the front door was locked and the shutters closed, he asked, “How did Delno know you’re going to be on TV in the morning?”

“From the moment I agreed to the interview, the station has been promoting it all afternoon and evening.”

“What were your conditions?”

“First, a public apology from the general manager for putting me on leave when I was innocent of any malfeasance. Then my old job back, but with a hefty raise. Hour-long special features programs, no fewer than three per year, my choice of topics. A private office and an assistant. And all in writing.”

Raley whistled. “You’re tough.”

She gave him a saucy smile. “I’m in demand.”

“You could name your salary.” After a strategic pause, he added, “Anywhere.”

“Probably, but—”

“Fear of failure?”

“No. After today, what could I possibly fear?” she said softly. “The truth is, I don’t want to leave Charleston. It feels like home now, and I think I can do some good work here.” She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “What about you? The fire chief came to the emergency room while you were being treated. According to the people I talked to later—”

“Always following the scent of a story, aren’t you?”

“—he was clamoring to talk to you. You refused to see him. Why?”

“I guess I want to be courted, too. Let him stew for a day or two, then I’ll agree to meet with him.”

“And if he offers you your old job back?”

“I’ll turn it down.”

Her smile collapsed. “Oh.”

“I’m going to hold out for the promotion I was promised. There’s a veteran who took over when Brunner died, but he’s ready to retire. I want to be made senior arson inspector for the whole department, for every firehouse, citywide.”

“Oh,” she repeated, this time in a different tone.

“I could do good work here, too.”

“I believe that.”

They smiled at each other, and then she walked into his embrace as he curved his right arm around her waist and drew her to him. She looped her arms around his waist. He whispered into her hair, “I’m not hurt that bad. Hug me tight.”

She did, whispering back, “I just want to feel you, smell you, make sure you’re here.” There was a catch in her voice when she continued. “I’ve only known you for a few days. But when you jumped through that window, my heart stopped. You can’t imagine—”

“I don’t have to imagine. I know. I felt the same way when I realized that I’d sent you straight to the culprit who’d tried to kill you once already. If something had happened to you, I’d just as soon those feds shot me.” He tipped her head up and touched her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Has it really only been a few days?”

“Impossible as that seems.”

All the emotions they had experienced that day were unleashed when they kissed. It was deep and lasted forever. When they finally pulled apart, they were feverish with longing and reminded of the night before. He cleared his throat. “Britt, last night—”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“We
shouldn’t have.”

“Especially after I’d made such a big deal of it the first time.”

“You were being conscientious.”

“I was being a jerk.”

“Sort of a jerk,” she said with a soft smile. “But last night was different. It just felt right.”

“It felt bloody great.”

“So you’re not…You don’t regret it?”

“God no,” he said huskily.

He had woken up with them spooned together, and for a time her nearness was enough. But then the sweet pressure of her bottom fit snugly against him, and the softness of her breast beneath his hand, had caused the predictable reaction.

His arousal woke her. She stirred. Lifting his hand to her mouth, she kissed his palm, gently sucked his fingertips, then lowered them to her nipples. With feather-light strokes he brought them erect, making her catch her breath. She rubbed against him in silent invitation.

He was hard and heavy, stretched to bursting. He intended to caress her with just the tip. But when he touched her, she was receptive and warm and very wet. He pushed himself into her, she enveloped him in her heat, and for a mindless, endless time, they mated with the merest of movements, rocking against each other in motions as fluid as a calm surf.

He withdrew only long enough to turn her onto her back before sinking into her again, then pressing himself deeper still. He barely had to move, he didn’t want to, because she sheathed him so tightly, so completely, the pulsing of their bodies, his inside hers, brought her to orgasm. He held her hips tightly between his hands and felt each sweet contraction.

Being unprotected, he knew he should pull out, but his willpower to do so abandoned him to his pleasure. And not only to the pleasure, but to his need to meld with her in this most elemental way. She tilted her hips up as though reaching for more, her hands on his back were restless and urgent, and understanding what those entreaties implied, he came inside her. And came. And came.

When it was over, he slid his tongue into her mouth and they kissed, sexily and meaningfully in equal measure. For a long time they made love just by kissing. Until sleepiness overcame them again. They resumed their original position, he hugging her close, nuzzling her nape, tasting the fragrant skin beneath her hair, until they drifted back to sleep.

Neither had spoken a word, but it had been an intensely sexual and intimate experience, ripe with promise, implicative of a future. Words hadn’t been necessary. And they weren’t now.

Taking her hand, he led her into the bedroom.