All I've Ever Wanted (17 page)

K
ennedy stared blankly out the small window while the past week replayed in her head. Eight days. Had it really been such a short time? It seemed more like eight years. Eight years of being on the run and looking over her shoulders; eight years of being scared and tired.

Agent Mason leaned over in his seat and interrupted her thoughts. “Don't worry. It will all be over soon.”

She nodded, not in the mood for small talk, and wished like hell that she could turn off her frazzled emotions. “I should have called the police.”

“I'm sorry. What did you say?”

Kennedy took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she exhaled. “The night of the murder. I should have called the police the first chance I had.”

They sat for a moment in silence. Her words hung in the air like a death sentence before Mason attempted to ease her guilt.

“You know what they say—hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”

She looked at him, shaking her head. “I watched a man die and didn't even try to bring the murderer to justice because I didn't want to get involved. How pathetic is that?”

Mason crossed his arms and looked as if he was trying to choose his words wisely. “I've been in this business a long time, Kennedy. And I've dealt with numerous people. Most of them had the best of intentions. I believe that you are one of those people.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It was meant to help you forgive yourself. You made a mistake. The point is that you're cooperating with the authorities now.”

“But it wasn't by choice. It was the only way I could find to try to save my family.”

Mason shook his head. “Look, I've never been good at this. Hunting down clues and catching bad guys are pretty much my forte. All I can tell you is that people make mistakes. Very rarely do they get the chance to correct them.”

She nodded as she thought about what he said.

“Plus, there's no proof or guarantee that things would have worked out any different had you gone to the police. Keenan would still have gone after you. You would still have tried to send your son to what you thought to be a safe place, and we would still be making this trip to do our best to save them.”

That scenario made sense to her. Incredibly, her guilt lifted. “I think you lied to me.”

“Oh?”

“I think you're better at this than you say.”

A broad smile monopolized his face. “No comment.”

 

Max arrived at the scene of the crime, wondering if he was mentally up for this. The answer was no, especially since he couldn't keep his mind off Kennedy. Now wasn't the time to leave her alone, not when she didn't have anyone else to lean on for emotional support. She needed him, she'd said so herself. And he wished like hell he could be there for her.

He got out of the car and made his way almost to the yellow crime-scene tape before he heard his name called. He turned and was surprised to see Lt. Scardino edging her way toward him.

“Glad you finally made it,” she said.

“I got here as soon as I could.”

She tilted her head, indicating that she wanted
him to follow her. “I got a call from Hunter's editor. Seems your favorite reporter was working on the Underwood investigation.”

“I know. I saw her and a cameraman at the crime scene.”

“Did you share any information?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Come on. You know me better than that.”

She nodded, then continued, “According to her editor, she called him yesterday afternoon saying that she had stumbled onto a major break in the case.”

This time, it was Max's turn to nod. “I know. She also called me.”

“Come again?”

“It's not what you're thinking. In fact, I didn't really give her the chance to explain.”

“What time was this?”

“I don't know. I guess around three o'clock.”

“What did she say?”

Max struggled to remember. “Something to the effect that she had found something that I might be interested in. I told her that I highly doubted it, and that I had to go.”

Scardino's frown deepened. “Sounds like you need a refresher course on human relations skills.”

“I feel bad as it is, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry.” She took a deep breath and watched her men scurry about the crime scene. “I figure, if I'm
going to get my butt chewed by the captain about this investigation, I may as well get my hands dirty. Plus for the time being, you are short a partner.”

He raised a questioning brow. “Are you trying to tell me we're partners?”

“For the time being.”

He smiled.

Scardino paced. “What I don't get is if Keenan Lawrence killed Underwood, and he's in Memphis, then who killed Hunter?”

Max shrugged. “It could've been one of Lawrence's gang members.”

“Possible. But that doesn't really explain why a group of street thugs suddenly took it in their heads to start killing off such high-profile people.”

“I don't think that they have. Underwood was a hired hit. I'm willing to bet my badge on it.”

“Hired by whom?”

“Haven't a clue.”

They fell silent.

Max turned and surveyed his surroundings. “What was she doing out here?” he asked in a low voice. He thought back to their phone conversation. She had called him on his cell phone. “Wait a sec.” He walked back toward his car.

“What do you got?” Scardino asked, trailing him.

He opened his car door and grabbed his cell phone from the passenger seat. He reviewed the caller ID
screen. “I just want to see something.” He headed over to the gray Honda and punched the button for his phone to redial the number Aaliyah had called from.

The officers searching the victim's car jumped when the car phone rang.

“She called you from the car,” Scardino said, nodding.

Max disconnected the call. “What time was the body discovered?”

Scardino reviewed her notes. “We received the call at approximately 7:15 a.m.”

Max bit his lower lip as he entertained a thought.

“What are you thinking?”

He shook his head, not sure that he wanted to share his hunch.

“Come on,
partner.
Share.”

He laughed. “All right. I'm just wondering if she was tailing someone.”

She frowned. “All right. Remind me not to ask you to share next time.”

“It's a possibility. She calls me, frantic, telling me she's discovered something I may be interested in. What could that be? She knows that I was investigating the Underwood murder. Her editor also told us that she was working on that case. Is it so far-fetched to believe that she stumbled onto
someone
as opposed to
something?
”

“We may have something here,” Detective Washington announced from the car.

Scardino and Max turned in time to see the officer lifting a camera she'd sealed in a plastic evidence bag.

“It was stuck in between the console and the passenger seat,” Washington added.

“Can we be that lucky?” Scardino asked.

“If we are, it will be a first for me.”

 

“I thought I'd find you here,” Sandra said, slamming the door behind her.

Steve glanced up from his desk, and held up a finger to ask her to wait a moment while he finished his phone call. She took the opportunity to retrieve her gun from her back holster, careful not to be caught.

“No, sir. I have everything under control. Lawrence will be taken care of. Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”

Sandra rolled her eyes as she waited for the call to end. She knew now who sat on the other end of the line. Don Gaetano, an infamous drug lord, who had been a thorn in the side of the city of Atlanta for more than a decade.

His reign of power had enabled him to purchase all the right cops and the right judges to keep his business running smoothly, including her. Her nightmare had begun when Gaetano had asked if Underwood would also agree to join his payroll. To
everyone's surprise, Marion had refused and then gone so far as to contact the FBI, which signed his death warrant.

Steve ended his call. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

She smiled. “Actually, I'm surprised that you weren't expecting me.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. After a moment he shrugged, as if he had concluded that she was harmless. “Now, why would I be expecting you?”

Sandra revealed her gun. “Because you killed my husband. Remember?”

“Ah,” he said. He didn't flinch. “So, you've come here to kill me?”

“I have a hunch that it'll make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

His expression eased into a wide smile. “And you think I'm just going to sit here and let you shoot me?”

“I don't
think
you have a choice.”

“Obviously, you haven't thought this through. Maybe now is the time to do so.”

“I've done all the thinking I need to. This madness needs to stop.”

“This isn't the way to handle this. Come on, Sandy. I'm a pawn in this game, just like you. Killing me won't change that.”

“I already told you. Killing you is just going to
make me feel better. I have a little surprise for Gaetano, too. By tomorrow morning the FBI will have received some rather interesting reading.”

Steve's features hardened. “You didn't.”

“Oh, boy, did I ever.”

He shifted slightly in his seat. For the first time, she realized that she didn't have a clear view of his hands. Her gaze flew to his face. His smile now resembled a smirk.

She squeezed the trigger and was simultaneously speared with a blinding pain that stole her breath and sent her spiraling into a black vortex.

FBI Field Office
Memphis, Tennessee

“W
hen will I be able to see my son?” Kennedy asked Mason as he ushered her into the building.

“Soon,” he assured her.

“And when is that exactly?”

Mason gave her a patient smile. “First, let's meet with the special agent in charge here, and hear the plan of action. Maybe your questions will be answered then.”

She nodded, but a bubble of anxiety welled up within her. Questions plagued her mind. Were
Tommy and her grandmother safe? Were they scared?

Upon passing through another heavy door, she was greeted by another dozen plus agents.

Mason instantly recognized one of them and thrust out his hand to receive a firm handshake. “Hagan, it's good to see you again.”

The man identified as Hagan stood at least a foot taller than Mason, which in itself was impressive. He was an older man, who possessed a full head of white hair and a pair of the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen. For reasons she couldn't explain, she felt more confident.

The men exchanged brief greetings before turning their full attention to Kennedy.

“And you must be Ms. St. James?”

She nodded.

“Good. Let's get started on getting your son back, shall we?”

 

Scardino stared blankly at Det. Dorsey, sure that she hadn't heard the officer right. “Please run that by me again.”

“You haven't heard? It's all over the radio. Judge Hickman killed Captain Vincent. Their bodies were discovered in his office early this morning.”

Scardino sank into her seat, grateful that she hadn't actually hit the floor. “Where is Judge Hickman now?”

“Grady Hospital. Apparently, Captain Vincent squeezed off a shot. She's listed in critical condition.”

Scardino shook off her shock and dismissed the detective with a wave of her hand. “Nothing is making sense lately,” she mumbled under her breath.

There was a rap at her door seconds before it burst open and Det. Washington entered. “We have those pictures developed.”

“I hope there's something that we can use.”

Washington handed her the folder.

Scardino's stomach lurched and threatened to return her lunch. She blinked and stared at the photo of the sleek black Mercedes pulling out of 3016 Orchard Street. She recognized the car immediately, and knew the residence just as well.

She dropped the photographs on her desk and slumped to prop her head against the palm of her head. “Could you tell Detective Collier to come in here, please.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Washington left her office without further ado.

Meanwhile, Scardino tried to wrap her brain around what the pictures meant. “What was the true relationship between Vincent and Hickman? And how did it relate to Aaliyah Hunter's death?”

“You asked for me?” Max poked his head through her doorway.

“Yeah. Come on in.”

He entered and closed the door behind himself.

“Take a seat,” she instructed.

He frowned, but took a seat.

“Tell me. What do you make of these?” She slid the pictures across her desk.

He leaned over and picked up the photographs. He recognized the estate immediately, but was clueless about the black Mercedes pulling out of the drive. “Whose car is it?”

“Let me tell you this,” she said, braiding her fingers together. “Captain Vincent is dead.

“His body was found this morning. That's not all. Judge Hickman seems to be our killer.”

“What?”

“Now take another look at the pictures taken with Ms. Hunter's camera.”

He looked again. “This is the Underwood estate.”

“And that's Captain Vincent's car.”

“I'm confused.”

“That makes two of us. I want a search warrant for Ms. Hunter's residence, as well as one for Judge Hickman's. We've got to see if there's a paper trail of any kind of payoffs.”

Max stood, still shaking his head. “Do we know where Hickman is?”

“Grady. Captain Vincent managed to shoot her. That's all I know, for all the good that does us.”

“You know, if we're working under the theory
that Aaliyah was killed for stumbling onto something or someone regarding the Underwood murder, then it's quite possible that either Hickman or Vincent—”

Scardino held up her hand. “Please don't say it.”

“Someone needs to. We're looking at quite a mess here.”

Again Scardino rested her head into the palms of her hands. “We're going to be slaughtered in the media whatever way this one goes.”

“Mind if I ask what your gut is telling you?”

“My gut has taken a trip down south. And my head is telling me that I should have never gotten out of bed this morning.”

 

Kennedy's heart raced as she waited for Special Agent Hagan to alert her that all systems were go for her to call her grandmother's residence. She was so nervous, in fact, that she worried whether she would actually be able to say anything at all when Keenan picked up the phone.

She prayed constantly, and often wondered if God could hear her. She tried to seek comfort in the fact that God looked after children, but such thinking floundered under the realization that bad things happened to children every day.

Lowering her head, she found herself wishing that Max were there. He had an incredible ability to
calm her. She hadn't fully realized that before. Perhaps it was only now that he wasn't there that she could realize how much she had allowed herself to come to depend on him. There was even a small part of her that realized that she'd been hoping that he was going to rescue her from herself when she'd hopped on the bus to Memphis. She had almost counted on it.

Kennedy shook her head. She wasn't making any sense. She had only known the man for about a week, and she was acting as if he had always been a part of her life. But there was no other way to describe what was between them, either.

“We're ready, Ms. St. James,” Agent Hagan said, picking up a pair of headphones and placing them over his ears.

She nodded and picked up the phone. While she struggled to keep her hands from trembling, she silently reviewed the questions the FBI had prepared for her. Of course the only thing important to her was whether her family was still alive and well.

The phone rang and she waited patiently for her grandmother to answer. Her heartbeat started accelerating somewhere between the fourth and fifth unanswered ring. What if it was already too late?

The answering machine picked up. She glanced nervously at Agent Mason.

He nodded as a signal for her to leave a message.

At the sound of the beep, she spoke into the receiver. “Hello, Grandma. It's me—”

A loud banging sounded over the line, seconds before Keenan interrupted her. “Ah, Ms. St. James. It's so nice of you to call. I'm kind of surprised. You're a whole day early.”

“What have you done with my family?” she asked, already forgetting about the FBI's questions.

“Don't worry. They're safe.”

“I don't believe you. Put them on the phone.” It was useless to try and control the tremor in her voice, just as it was useless to try to rein in her emotions.

“You have no other choice than to trust me,” he said with a snicker.

At that, Kennedy grew combative. “Go to hell. You've got to be crazy if you think I'm going to agree to meet with you when you've probably already killed my family.”

Agent Mason suddenly appeared at her side and tugged on her arm.

She ignored him and continued to lay into Keenan. “Put my son on the phone or the deal's off.”

The line fell silent for a long moment, and Kennedy thought her worst fears had come true. He had already killed them.

“All right, then. I'll go get them,” Keenan finally said.

Kennedy slumped against Mason as a wave of
relief swept over her. The first glimmer of hope returned and began to penetrate her fear-frozen heart. But she was too terrified to fully accept that warmth before she was able to hear her son's voice.

 

Keenan cursed as he stormed through the house. This whole venture had turned out to be one big pain in the neck. He had kept the child and the grandmother locked in the basement now for nearly twenty-four hours, and actually had no clue as to how they fared. He didn't care. He'd planned to kill them anyway, after he'd finished his business with the kid's mother.

He turned the key to unlock the door leading to the basement and pushed the door open. Complete darkness greeted him, but it was the room's eerie silence that unnerved him.

“What y'all doing down there?”

There was a slight rustling sound, and then two forms stepped into the dim light from the open doorway. He eyed them suspiciously, disconcerted by their strange behavior. Then he remembered why he had come—the phone.

“Send the boy up. His mother wants to talk to him.”

The little boy raced out of the safety of his great-grandmother's arms and hurried up the stairs.

A lopsided grin curled Keenan's lips. He was actually looking forward to tomorrow, when he
would finally get the chance to get back at Lieutenant Preston K. St. James for all the years of grief the man had given him…by killing the rest of his family. He loved it when he got paid to do what he wanted to do already.

With a hearty laugh, Keenan relocked the basement door and led the boy to the phone so he could talk to his mother for the last time.

 

Max returned to Scardino's office, not at all pleased. “We've got a problem with the warrant.”

Scardino opened her mouth to respond when the phone rang. “Hold on for just a sec,” she said, lifting a slender finger to ask him to wait, before answering the phone. “Scardino.”

He exhaled and settled into the chair across from her desk. Almost immediately his thoughts returned to Kennedy. The weight of guilt for having left her now seemed impossible to continue to bear. He wanted to be there with her…to be there
for
her.

He glanced at his watch. What were they doing now? Had she had a chance to speak with her son? It was the not knowing that threatened to drive him crazy.

Would she call when it was all over? He'd like to think so, but he wasn't sure. Right now, he wasn't sure about much of anything when it came to Kennedy St. James.

He did know that he'd told her the truth the other night. The depth of the feelings he felt for her surprised him. He'd become wary after going through such a disastrous marriage.

But now here he was again, feeling all those things he'd sworn off.

“All right. I'll be right over,” Scardino said, and hung up the phone.

Max snapped out of his reverie and locked gazes with his lieutenant.

“Well, it looks like we may not need that warrant. Judge Hickman pulled out of her coma about an hour ago, and she seems to be quite the chatterbox.” She stood and reached for her jacket.

He stood, as well. “She made a confession?”

“According to Detective Evans, she has.”

“Well, what did she say?”

“Only that Captain Vincent ordered the hit on her husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“Whatever.” She moved from behind her desk. “Evans said that Vincent came to her house yesterday and confessed.”

“Ms. Hunter's photos.”

“Exactly.”

Max looked at his watch, his mind again returning to Kennedy.

Scardino stopped and stared at Max, watching as
a frown creased his features. “Are you all right?” she asked, moving next to him.

“What?” he blinked, then looked contrite for having been caught with his mind wandering.

She offered him a knowing smile.

“Yeah, of course. You want me to come to the hospital with you?”

“I'm not sure that will be necessary.” She studied him some more. “You know Mike told me that you have grown fond of Ms. St. James. Until now, I thought that he was just joking around. You know how he can get.”

Max nodded.

“But he's right, isn't he?”

A denial sat at the tip of his tongue, but he thought about how she had opened up to him the other night regarding Dossman, and he thought better of it. “I'm worried about her, and her family.”

“And?”

Max knew that she was asking as a friend and not as his boss. For a moment, it seemed odd for them to exchange roles so casually.

“I care for her,” he admitted finally, then added as an afterthought, “a lot.”

She nodded. “You know, I had thought to send Detectives Randall and Hendricks to Memphis.”

Max folded his arms and continued to nod as if unaffected by her decision to send other officers to
ensure the extradition of Keenan Lawrence. Of course, that was if he was caught.

“I'm thinking that perhaps you should be the one to go,” she said.

Their gazes met. “I can handle things here. Maybe even have Detectives Randall and Hendricks sub until you get back.”

“Are you sure?” His heart skipped a beat.

“I'm positive. Detective Washington can go with you.”

Max resisted the urge to pull Scardino into a fierce hug, but he was powerless to stop the broad smile that spread across his face. “Thanks. You have no idea what this means to me.”

Scardino opened her office door with a wistful smile. “Don't be too sure of that,” she said.