Never Alone (43 Light Street) Read online

  “Stop being ridiculous.”

  She should keep her mouth shut, she knew. But she couldn’t stop herself from hurling another absurd suggestion. “Then what? Listen in on the interviews through a two-way mirror the way they do in cop shows on TV? And tell you if I think someone’s lying.”

  He made an exasperated sound. “Let’s go home.”

  “If you think I can’t do anything else for you here.”

  “I don’t!”

  They started to step into the hall, then Cal blocked her path.

  “What?”

  “One of your fellow committee members is in the hall. You don’t want anyone to find out the police let you go home early.”

  “You don’t have to do me any favors.”

  “I’m getting you out of here. It’s the least I can do,” he said, sounding as if he was trying to make a peace offering.

  He waited several more seconds, then ushered her down the hall and out a side door into the parking lot. It had gotten dark while they were in the building, and she stood where she was staring at a couple of police cruisers with their lights blinking. Behind them were vans from all four Baltimore television stations.

  “Damn reporters,” Cal muttered. “I didn’t expect them to get here so fast.”

  The media types spotted them and waved their microphones, but they must have been warned to stay back, because nobody crossed in front of the cruiser.

  A police officer looked in their direction.

  Cal strode toward him. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Beth hurried to keep up. As she reached Cal’s side, she heard him speaking in a low voice. “What’s the status on the two people who were attacked?” he asked.

  “Fitch is in stable condition. The other guy, Ted Banner, didn’t make it.”

  Beth felt her chest tighten. “He’s dead?”

  “Yeah,” the cop confirmed.

  She glanced at Cal. His face was tight. “Cause of death?” he asked.

  “Apparently a knife wound to the heart.”

  Beth couldn’t hold back a gasp. She hadn’t had a clue about what was going on in the dark. Now she knew somebody had been in the room knifing people. He could have gotten her. Or Cal.

  Cal spoke for a few more minutes to the officer, then apparently asked for an escort, because another man from the department shooed the reporters away as they crossed to his car.

  As he pulled out of the space, she said, “I’m sorry I lashed out at you.”

  “You’re under a lot of pressure. We both are.”

  He didn’t continue the conversation, and they rode toward the farm in silence. She wanted to ask him questions. Not about the case, but about the two of them. Before they’d gone into the meeting, he’d kissed her. Maybe he had done it for show, but it hadn’t felt that way. Then when the lights had gone out, he’d found her as safe a hiding place as possible under the table. And later, when he’d massaged her back and neck, he’d been tender, concerned, until he’d gone back into police detective mode.

  She wanted to ask precisely what he felt for her, but she wasn’t sure she had the guts to hear the answer. Maybe she’d gotten angry at him back at the restaurant because she’d invested too much emotional energy in their relationship when she knew it didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of going anywhere.

  CAL DROVE IN SILENCE, wondering what else he was supposed to say. Women wanted you to say stuff. They wanted everything spelled out. But that was impossible in this case. Or, yeah, he could spell it out and hurt her so badly she’d never trust another guy in her life.

  Honey, I’m kind of on edge because we just walked out of a pretty bad situation. A situation I got you into because of my damn undercover assignment. I’m real sorry about that. And real sorry that what I want to do when we get home is to take you straight up to the bedroom and make love to you until neither one of us can stand up.

  But I’ve got a good reason not to take you there. Because I know I’m going to walk away from you in the end and that’s gonna break your heart. You’re too vulnerable, too innocent, too nice to get messed up with me. So the best thing is not to get started. Only, if that’s what I really think, why did I grab you and kiss you in the car?

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Then, as they pulled up in front of the house, his phone beeped. Thankful for the distraction, he cut the engine and reached into his pocket.

  “Rollins,” he answered.

  “I’m glad I got you,” the man on the other end of the line said. It was Sam Lassiter, the P.I. he’d talked to last week.

  He glanced at Beth. “Things have been a little hectic.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  When she got out of the car, giving him some privacy, he mouthed “Thanks.” Then said to Lassiter, “You can see it on the evening news.” Cal watched Beth go into the house.

  “I was hoping you might want to make good on that promise to help me out.”

  “With the Hannah problem or the Luke problem?” he asked as he climbed out of the car and stood with his hips propped against the bumper.

  “Both.”

  Cal wondered if he’d heard right. “What do you mean both?”

  “You remember Luke was working undercover in Texas with a gang smuggling drugs across the border. And Hannah’s on the run from whoever is trying to avenge the death of that kid, Sean Naylor, who got caught in the cross-fire at a drug bust. Well, it looks like they’re related.”

  “How exactly?”

  “I don’t know. I’m hoping to find out tonight. I’m meeting an informant in back of a warehouse on Pulaski Highway. Another P.I. was supposed to go with me, but he’s backed out. I’m reckless, but I’m not suicidal, so I’m looking for someone to cover me.”

  Cal glanced toward the house, seeing the blaze of lights that Beth had already turned on. “When is the meeting?”

  “Midnight.”

  “Well, I’m in kind of a situation here,” he said, then quickly filled in his friend on the undercover assignment.

  “So you’re worried that if you leave Wagner alone tonight, she could be in danger?” Sam clarified.

  “Not from the guy who crashed the reunion committee meeting. He’s gone to ground somewhere. But there was another incident out here. Somebody took the cover off an old well. I damn near broke my neck when I fell into it.”

  “Deep Throat told me something that will interest you.”

  “Deep Throat?”

  “That’s what the informant called himself.”

  “Original!”

  “He says that people associated with Hannah are being watched.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Not just watched. Warned to mind their own business. I came out of the office a couple of days ago and found my tires had been slashed. That could account for your well cover.”

  It was an angle Cal hadn’t considered—that the booby trap had been directed at him. “Thanks for the heads up. Let me get back to you about tonight.”

  He stood there by the car, staring toward the darkened fields, his fists clenching and unclenching. He’d suspected Tim Fillmore might be harassing Hannah. Or an unscrupulous local developer who saw an opportunity to buy up prime land in the path of development. He’d even wondered about the deliveryman, for Lord’s sake. But now he worried that he was the one who had brought Beth more trouble than she’d bargained for. And at the same time he also felt a surge of relief. Leaving her was the solution to his problems—and hers. He was putting her in danger, and as soon as he got out of her life, the better for her.

  With renewed purpose, he entered the house and walked down the hall to the workroom. She was where he’d expected—at her loom.

  Her back was to the door, but he saw her shoulders tense as he approached, in contrast to the reaction of her dog, who started slapping his tail against the floor.

  “Can I talk to you?” he asked.

  She gave him a small nod but didn’t turn.

  “That was a friend of mine on t
he phone, a P.I. named Sam Lassiter, with an emergency situation. He needs me to cover him while he meets with a guy who has important information for him about another friend of ours, Hannah Dawson. A few months ago, somebody tried to kill her. And we’re trying to find out who.”

  Beth turned, her face grave as she digested the information. “Then you have to go help him,” she said in a low voice.

  “I don’t like leaving you tonight.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m used to being alone.”

  He swallowed. She was giving him permission to bail out, and despite his earlier sense of relief, he was feeling like an absolute bastard. Why couldn’t she get mad at him again? Then he’d be justified in stalking away.

  “The, uh, thing about the well,” he said in a halting voice. “If you’re worried about the cover being off, Sam says the informant told him that both he and I are being watched by somebody from Baltimore. It’s related to a drug case Hannah was working. Sam found his tires slashed. The well’s probably something of the same nature.”

  “Why would someone expect you to be walking around my fields?”

  “Because that’s what a cop does in a new environment. He checks things out.” He went on quickly, “So it wasn’t somebody out to get you. At least not now. The other stuff you told me about was several months ago, right?”

  “Yes. Nothing recent.” She kept her features even and her voice steady as she said, “You don’t need to feel guilty about leaving me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why are we having this discussion?”

  “Okay. I feel like a rat walking out on you after what happened at the meeting. Does that make you happy?”

  “No.”

  “What do you want from me, exactly?”

  “There’s no point in spelling out what I want,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  The words and the way she said them made his chest so tight he could barely breathe. He was pretty sure what she wanted. The same thing he did. But he was the one who understood the consequences.

  For long moments, he could only stand and stare at her, feeling on the verge of doing something he knew he would regret. But he couldn’t act on his own selfish impulses. Not when Sam needed him. He took a breath to steady himself. Finally he managed to say, “I have to call Lassiter back and let him know whether I can help him out.”

  “Then go do it.”

  He stayed there for another few seconds, torn in so many directions that he couldn’t catch his breath. Then he turned on his heel and fled, because this was a chance to help his friend Hannah. And it was also a chance to escape from a situation that had created more doubts in his mind than he had ever experienced in his life.

  Up in his room, he called Lassiter and asked where he should meet him. Then he strapped on his shoulder holster with his Sig .40. Thinking he might need an additional weapon, he got out his Walther PPK .380 and slipped it into an ankle holster.

  After he’d made his preparations, he checked to see that the windows and doors were secure.

  When he came to the front door, Beth was standing there. “Tell me where you’re going to be,” she asked.

  “A warehouse off Pulaski Highway.”

  “You have the address?”

  He fumbled for the piece of paper he’d shoved into his pocket and handed it over. She picked up a pad from the hall table and transferred the information.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You won’t need it. I’ll be fine,” he told her, then pushed the door open and trotted back to his car, without asking if she had any premonitions. He didn’t want to know.

  As he drove, he tried to focus on the upcoming meeting, but the only thoughts that filled his mind were of Beth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d almost gotten her killed this evening—and about how much he wanted her. Lord, he’d never gotten his professional life and his personal life so tangled up. And he’d never felt so glad to escape as when he’d walked out the door and left her standing there in the hallway because he couldn’t face her tonight—and he couldn’t face his own feelings.

  He was still tied up in knots when he pulled into the filling station where he was supposed to meet Sam. Looking around, he spotted the dark shape of his SUV parked in the shadows.

  Seeing the truck made him take a deep breath. He’d come to guard his friend’s back and he’d damn well better get his mind on business.

  After getting out of his car and locking it, he slid into the passenger seat of the P.I.’s truck.

  “Thanks for helping me out,” Sam said.

  “No problem,” he answered, willing his full attention to his friend.

  “Okay,” Sam began. “Let me show you a plan of the exterior of the warehouse where I’m supposed to meet the guy. And show you where you can cover me.”

  Halfway through the briefing, Cal started focusing more closely on the P.I. rather than on what he was saying. His friend had sounded like his normal self over the phone. He’d sounded fine a few minutes ago. Now he was starting to slur his words. Lord, was he drinking again? Cal wondered, thinking about the problems he’d had after his wife and child had been killed.

  When Lassiter grimaced and gritted his teeth, Cal asked, “You got something you want to tell me?”

  The detective answered with a vehement curse. “Yeah. I’m thinking the damn tacos I had for dinner were bad.” He sighed. “I’ll be okay. But maybe you’d better drive.”

  Cal slipped behind the wheel of the detective’s SUV. As he drove down the highway, he glanced several times toward the passenger seat. When they passed under a streetlight, he could see that Lassiter was sweating and his jaw was clenched.

  Before they got to the rendezvous point, Cal pulled on to the shoulder. “You’re in no shape to deal with someone who may have set this meeting up as an ambush.”

  Lassiter sighed, then answered. “I was wondering how I’m gonna stay on my feet.”

  “You’re not. I’ll take your place.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m volunteering. So tell me everything you know about the meeting.”

  “Not much.” The detective paused, drew in a shallow breath and let it out before continuing. “Like I said, this morning I heard from a guy who said I could call him Deep Throat. He wants ten thousand dollars in exchange for some information about how the Sean Naylor case is tied to Dallas Sedgwick.”

  “The drug kingpin who’s out to get his missing million dollars from Lucas Somerville?”

  “Yeah.” Lassiter made an attempt at a laugh. “Of course, there’s one good outcome. The Peregrine Connection let Lucas keep Sedgwick’s money. The new head of the organization, Addison Jennings, says that after what he went through, he earned it.”

  “Yeah,” Cal agreed, thinking how many ways the poor bastard had almost been killed. He and Hannah both.

  Lassiter was speaking again in a halting voice. “Deep Throat said it was dangerous for him to be seen with me. That we’d better get together out here. He told me to come unarmed and he would, too.”

  “You’re taking his word on that?”

  “No. But this is important for Hannah, and I figured if I brought you along, you could cover me.” The P.I. paused for a moment. “I could tell the guy wants something from me. Not just money. He wants me to do something for him.” The detective paused and closed his eyes for a moment. “But now the equation’s changed. I’m not going to be much good to you, so maybe we should call this off.”

  Cal’s nerves were humming as he said, “And maybe we won’t get another crack at him. Besides, I won’t be unarmed. I’ve got an ankle holster.” He gave Lassiter a once-over. “Does this guy know you? I mean, will he think I’m you? Or will he realize there’s been a switch?”

  “I wish to hell I knew,” Lassiter answered.

  Cal started the engine again. Two miles up the road, he pulled into the parking lot in back of the warehouse
where the meeting was scheduled. The setting immediately gave him a bad feeling.

  He didn’t like the darkness. Or the quiet. Or the isolation. If any spot smacked of an ambush, this was it.

  Lassiter reached into his pocket and pulled out a legal-size envelope. “Here’s the money.”

  Cal started to get out of the truck.

  “Your Sig .40,” Sam reminded him.

  “Yeah. Right. Taking off the holster and gun, he laid them on the dashboard before climbing quietly out of the car. Sam also exited, moving to the right, bending slightly at the waist and folding his arms across his stomach as he made for the side of the building.

  Cal took a more direct route to the designated spot, thinking that this would have been an excellent time to consult Beth and ask her if she was picking up any evil vibes. Then he reminded himself that her powers were pretty uncertain—if you could call them powers.

  He wondered where Lassiter had gotten his plans of the building as he passed a door that he hadn’t seen on the drawing of the exterior layout. Stopping, he looked along the wall, thinking about what other surprises he was going to encounter.

  He hadn’t taken more than a dozen steps when he came to another detail that wasn’t in the plans—a recessed space. A space big enough for a man to hide.

  The odds had just tipped precipitously against him. Maybe keeping this appointment wasn’t such a bright idea after all.

  He had started to back up just as a whiny voice called in the darkness, “Hey, man. Don’t leave now.”

  BETH HAD LONG SINCE given up on sleep. But she was too exhausted to sit at her loom. So she’d gone up to her room, kicked off her shoes and lain down on top of the spread, still wearing her clothing because she wanted to make sure that Cal was all right the minute he walked in the door.

  That was why she was waiting up, she told herself.

  As she glanced at the clock yet again, she knew she wasn’t being entirely honest. That was part of it. But only part.