THE DEFENDER (11 page)

“His third strike. That’s twenty-five to life.”

“Yep. If the rifle is a match, I’ll flip him. Get him to give us the shooter and Heath.”

A solid plan. One Penny would give her favorite stilettos to watch. She imagined Russ in an interview room, his suit jacket unbuttoned, arms crossed, but casually leaning back. His body language would purposely be all over the place. He’d want the emotional firepower to put his suspect on edge as he told him he was sunk.
So hot.

Penny ignored the twinge in her lower belly, shoved the plate into the microwave and hit a few buttons. “What’s his connection to Heath?”

“Don’t know yet. Heath grew up in a cushy upscale suburb and went to Northwestern. Jones lived in Evanston on and off, so that might be the connection. Heath and the brother are about the same age. I’m running that down, too. I should know more in a couple of hours. Right now, I need to talk with Elizabeth. The more we have from her, combined with any possible developments from today, will only get us closer to Heath.”

“Well,
Russell,
let’s get back to work, then. Head in there and I’ll bring your food when it’s ready.”

At least then she wouldn’t be tempted to strip her clothes off.

* * *

R
USS
STUDIED
HIS
NOTES
before going back to Elizabeth. Three hours they’d been at it and his brain had lost its snap long ago. A slouching Elizabeth, her eye makeup smudged and dragging down her cheeks, didn’t exactly look energized, either. “We’re almost done for the night.”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’d rather get it over with.”

Penny leaned over and nudged her with her shoulder. “You’re doing great. This has to be difficult.”

“Yes and no. It’s almost a relief. I want this man out of our lives. He took my son’s father away. If I don’t help convict Heath, he’ll torment me for the rest of my life. He’s crazy that way. Once he gets his hooks in, he doesn’t let go.”

“Did you know your husband threatened to turn him in?” Russ asked.

“No. At that point, I didn’t even know he was doing anything illegal.”

He eyed her. Whether she truly believed that, he couldn’t tell. Unconsciously, she could have convinced herself.

“I knew he was stressed and I questioned him. Maybe I was suspicious of his behavior but I wasn’t sure what I was suspicious of. I didn’t think he’d break laws. Then, when he was killed, I wasn’t sure of anything. At least until Heath contacted me and told me what they were doing and that Sam had taken money from him. I didn’t know anything about that. I swear to you. I went along to save my son. I made the trades and I’ve saved copies of everything. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach Heath’s dirty work for long, but I needed time to figure out what to do. Working for Heath got me that time. Keeping my son safe was the only option.”

Russ jotted more notes. Some of this she’d already told him, but he’d record it all, check for inconsistencies later. “What about the safe-deposit boxes?”

“I found the keys and opened all the boxes where the money was. I assumed it was Heath’s and took it to him. He was happy to relieve me of it, but wouldn’t let me out of the scam.”

“That’s when you went to Penny?”

“Yes. I’d actually thought if I returned the money, he’d let me go. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Penny interjected. “I don’t want to hear that from you.”

“She’s right,” Russ said.

Penny swung to him with a look of wide-eyed shock. What? She couldn’t believe he’d be supportive? He scratched the back of his neck and dug in until his nails bit skin. The temporary pain distracted him from other things he felt. One being the hurt that came with a woman he’d been lusting after for months, and had grown to care about, thinking he was heartless.

Back to work.
“You said you saved copies of everything. Where are those copies?”

“I put them in the safe-deposit boxes where the money was.”

Elizabeth rose from her spot and walked to the closet near the staircase. Penny glanced at Russ and shrugged. Elizabeth returned with a purse that could double as an overnight bag. What the hell did women carry in those things that they needed them available at all times? She set the bag on the table and dug through it until she unearthed a quart-size Baggie.

“Here are the box keys. I took them with me when you brought us here. I should have turned them over earlier. I’m sorry. I was... I guess I was scared.”

Russ stayed quiet for a second, mesmerized by the bag in Elizabeth’s hand. There they were. Literally the keys to evidence that might finally break open his case. Twelve months of work and it culminated in a quart-size sandwich bag. His body turned rigid, his head slamming—
bam, bam, bam
—as he breathed in, attempted to control his emotions, because, finally, he’d get this guy.

He reached for the bag, but Elizabeth inched back. “This is everything I have. The only copies.”

Penny scooted next to Elizabeth and slid one arm around her. “It’s okay. He’ll take care of it. I promise you.”

If Elizabeth needed convincing, he’d convince her. Maybe not in the soft way Penny chose to, because, if it came down to it, his way involved the threat of a prison sentence. He didn’t want to go there, though. Not if he didn’t have to.

Penny held her palm flat in front of her. “It’s okay.”

Elizabeth stared down at Penny’s hand, gripped the Baggie tighter, then turned to him. “This is my son’s life in this bag.”

Russ sat forward, looked her dead-on. “Of all your options, I’m the best one. The FBI can give you a new life somewhere. For me to make that happen, I need those keys.”

His head continued to pound, but he waited. He’d learned silence could sometimes be an asset. Typically, the one who spoke first lost. Right now, he hoped there’d be no losers, but he’d damn sure not be the first to speak.

Elizabeth dropped the bag in Penny’s hand. Russ stared at it a second, forcing himself to not react, to keep his body language in check. To stay neutral. He inhaled, let the burst of oxygen settle his mind. The pounding in his head eased and he exhaled, took a second to get his thoughts in order.

“It’s all yours,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Only, Penny curled her fingers around the bag and Russ slid his gaze to her.
What’s this, now?

“I go with you to the banks. I want to document everything she turns over.”

Easily, he could tell her to go scratch, but she was Elizabeth’s lawyer. If anything, she’d insist on seeing the evidence first.

“I’m throwing you a bone here, Russell. I could go through all this evidence before you even get a peek at it.”

“It’s a lot,” Elizabeth said.

A slow, smug—
damn, that’s smoking
—grin slid across Penny’s face. “I’m sure it is. It could take me a month to go through it all.”

Killer Cupcake.
She may have been tough, but he wasn’t afraid of her. Not much anyway. And really, he didn’t care if she went with him. They’d have to do some evasive maneuvering to get them both into the banks at the same time, since Heath was watching her, but they’d pull it off. They’d been managing to get her to the safe house without being tailed, so sneaking into a city bank with pedestrian traffic shouldn’t be an issue.

He flopped out his hand. “Agreed. Hand over those keys.”

She snatched her hand back and walked to the kitchen. A minute later she returned with Brent.

“You’re my witness,” she said to him.

Now, this was priceless. “Please. He’s a government agent. You can’t use him.”

“He’s here and I’m using him. It’ll keep you honest.” She turned to Brent. “Elizabeth is about to turn over keys to—” she stopped, counted the keys in the bag “—four safe-deposit boxes. Agent Voight has just agreed to let me accompany him to retrieve and document the evidence contained in said boxes. You’re my witness that he agreed to this.”

Brent pointed at Russ. “Did you agree to that?”

“I did.”

“Fine. I’m a witness. Am I done?”

Penny nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

Russ held his hand out again. “Let’s have ’em.”

He watched her. Waited to see if she’d come up with more stipulations. Wouldn’t shock him if she did. The woman was a shark. If he didn’t play this right, she’d devour him. Rip off his limbs and leave him a bloody stump. Both professionally and personally.

And he loved it.

Chapter Eleven

Colin Heath stood in front of the Criminal Court Building, the bright morning sun heating up the pavement as the temperature climbed to almost ninety. In May. By noon they’d be close to a hundred.

Yeah. Turning up the heat.

He sipped his iced latte—too heavy on the milk—and leaned back against the light pole. Heat from the scorching pole plunged through his T-shirt, reminding him to stay focused. Second time this week he’d been at this building, watching the action. Perhaps he should have stayed away today, given the heightened security, but something inside wouldn’t allow it. He needed to see it. Feel the pleasure of stripping all power and control from that Hennings bitch.

Stupid woman.

He shifted an inch to a more comfortable spot and searing heat stabbed at him.

Soon.

A young blonde cruised toward him wearing cutoffs and a tank top, and he tipped his glasses low, gave her a look that said he’d absolutely noticed her. Here he was, a harmless guy in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, waiting on a friend. Too bad the blonde couldn’t be that friend. Even if she probably wasn’t legal drinking age, he didn’t need her for drinking. He’d think of better things to do with that body.

Although the silly office assistant from Hennings & Solomon had been keeping him satisfied. Still, her usefulness was waning. Considering she thought he was an advertising salesman named Joe, there was only so much information he could pry from her regarding her employers. Poor, naive young woman. Too bad.

The blonde averted her gaze. A shame. He could have had fun with her.
Next time.

His phone rang and he slid it from his pocket as the blonde’s exceptional rear left his sight. “What’s up?”

“He’s coming out.”

Ah, yes. The mission. “Thank you. You ready?”

“Yeah. I’m heading down now. Van is ready.”

The plan was simple. Almost too simple, but Colin excelled at the success of exceptionally simple plans. For years now he’d been bilking investors out of their money, creating a way of life for himself most would only dream of, a taste of triumph that left him hungry for more. And if people were willing to turn over their pensions, well, he couldn’t help that. He had a business to run.

Colin clicked off, stared casually down the street—
I’m a harmless guy waiting on a friend
—and spotted his target coming down the courthouse steps.
Ding. Ding. Ding
.

At six foot three, Zac Hennings was easy to spot. Now they needed timing to be their friend because the U.S. marshal beside Hennings wouldn’t make this easy. Two light poles down, a maintenance worker in coveralls dumped a tool bag.

Hennings strode toward him, head high. Sure, he’d varied his pattern in terms of his morning routine, but some things couldn’t be changed. He no longer stopped at Starbucks first thing, but he had to do his job. And doing his job meant trips to the courthouse. For Heath, it had been easy. He parked himself at the courthouse and when Zac went in, Heath put his plan in motion while waiting for his target to exit.

Easy. Pickings.

The U.S. marshal walked beside Hennings, appearing unruffled but observant, casually checking their surroundings.

Heath glanced up to the maintenance worker, who made eye contact. All was well. Hennings walked by him as a white cargo van lumbered down the block. Timing. Timing. Timing.

Colin reached up, adjusted the bill of his baseball cap and stepped sideways as the maintenance worker spun, caught the marshal off guard and jabbed a needle into his shoulder. The aim should have been for the neck and all that vulnerable vascularization, but the shoulder would do. Even if it took a minute longer for the drug to take effect.

“Ho!” Zac yelled as the maintenance worker fled across the street into a waiting car. Heath sipped his latte, stared straight ahead as a woman stopped to render aid.
No need, my love.
Another pedestrian—teenager—skirted around the threesome, his head swinging back and forth, clearly unsure.
Go about your business
.

Still, Heath remained in his spot. Watching. Waiting.

“Run,” the marshal yelled, lurching forward and dropping to the ground as the medication took hold.

A shrill scream came from the woman and Hennings bent low to check his marshal. Oh, yes. So easy.

The van pulled into the fire zone—about time—and the side door slid open with a bang. Heath boosted off the light pole. Two men in ski masks leaped out and Hennings rose from his crouched position. The two men snagged him by both arms and he kicked out, landing a shot at one of his attacker’s knees.

Warm blood rushed through Heath’s veins and he breathed in. Enjoyed the stir of emotions. The erection finally came and he wanted the blonde back. Somehow, watching the action, knowing he controlled it, did that to him. Aroused him.

At the van, Zac continued his battle. Two civilians ran for him, pounced on the attackers. At least until the barrel of the rifle was presented to them.

The bystanders jumped away—
yes, gentlemen, be smart
—and Zac disappeared into the van’s gaping door.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Too late. The van pulled away, merging into traffic.

Heath glanced at the marshal on the ground, then back to the fleeing van. Simple plans. Always the best kind.

* * *

R
USS
SAT
IN
HIS
CUBICLE
,
preparing for his impending conversation with Randy Jones, who would soon have a decision to make because the rifle found in his possession matched slugs taken from the courthouse incident. An incident that left an innocent woman dead.

In short, Randy Jones was cooked and all he had to do to get out of it was tell Russ who’d fired that weapon. Russ’s desk phone bleeped. He glanced across the stacks of folders and memos cluttering the desktop—other active cases being ignored—then focused on the phone. The thing had rung three times but each time he’d let it go to voice mail rather than interrupt his momentum. The bleeping, as opposed to ringing, was the receptionist using the intercom. Someone was looking for him in a bad way.

He grabbed the handset. “I’m here. Sorry. I was in the middle of something.”

“I have Brent Thompson for you.”

Brent. Calling him. What was this, now? “Put him through. Thanks.”

He disconnected the intercom and waited five beats for the line to ring. “What’s up, Brent?”

On the other end of the phone line, voices carried, a door slammed, followed by silence in the background. Brent must have moved into an office and closed the door.
Privacy.
Which couldn’t be good news. An immediate zap
shot to Russ’s brain. He tapped his fingers against the handset.
Wait for it.

“Straight out,” Brent said. “Someone snatched Zac Hennings.”

Three things registered: one, Zac Hennings had been kidnapped; two, how the hell did that happen; and three, where was the U.S. marshal supposedly protecting him?

Russ stood, took one step, then realized he was anchored to the desk by the phone cord. Nowhere to go. He peeked over the metal cubicle wall to Ryan’s workspace on the other side. If he were there, he could start making calls, trying to figure out what the hell happened to Zac Hennings.

No Ryan.

Two agents huddled together a few desks down, but otherwise, no one could be seen above the rows of identical cubicle walls. He went back to Brent. “What the hell happened?”

“He was coming out of the courthouse.”

Russ made a fist and swung into dead air.
Damn it.
There was only so much he could do to protect the Hennings family. Penny had remarked her brother liked routine. A routine Russ had warned him to vary.

“Before you go off,” Brent said, “he’s been changing his patterns. The guy has to do his job and they caught him coming out of a hearing. Heath must have been waiting for him.”

The ASAC’s office sat in a line of glass-walled offices along the outer ring of the building and Russ craned his neck to get his attention. Couldn’t see. Too far down. “Where’s Zac’s marshal?”

“At the hospital. Unsubs loaded him up on some kind of tranquilizer. Local P.D. responded, informed my boss and it took them an hour to call me.”

“He’s been gone an hour?”

“As soon as I heard, I called you.”

“Where are you?”

“In a conference room near Penny’s office.”

She’d go over the edge when she heard this. “And she’s where?”

“In her office. If I have to tie her down, she’s not leaving this suite. She doesn’t know yet. The higher-ups from both our offices are talking as we speak. I figured I’d check in with you.”

On the far end of the office, Ryan strode from the men’s room. The men’s room. Nature simply wasn’t Russ’s friend. Whatever. He held his free hand up, waved Ryan over and went back to Brent. “Get Penny away from the phone and television until I get there. Lock her in that boardroom if necessary but do not let her take any calls. She’ll throw a damned fit, but you’re a smart guy—figure it out. My guess is Heath will contact her. If I know this guy at all, he’ll want to tell her about Zac. Let’s beat him to it. Take away his edge.”

“I’m on it.”

From the other end of the phone, a muffled shriek sounded. Russ’s body buzzed—arms, legs, torso—all of it heating up as the wailing from Brent’s end became louder.

“Too late,” Brent said. “I think she knows.”