Deadlock (14 page)

6:24 P.M. SATURDAY

At precisely 6:24, Thatcher received permission to enter Bethany’s gated community. A chill came with the evening and the scent of a few fallen leaves from the oak trees outside her apartment building. He’d chosen a sweater and jeans for a casual get-to-know-each-other-better evening. He rang the doorbell and rubbed his hands on his jeans. His reaction was embarrassing.

She opened the door wearing jeans, a deep-red sweater, and a smile that deepened her dimples. He reminded himself this was his partner, who had no clue he was attracted to her.

“You look great,” she said. “We must have gotten the same clothes memo.”

“You look better than I do.”

She laughed. “Thanks. I won’t analyze that if you won’t probe me with way-out questions.”

“You haven’t told me the best day of your life.”

“Oh, someday. Come on in. I want you to meet Jasper.”

“I’d almost forgotten about him.” He stepped inside, and she gestured toward a huge cage in the corner of the living room. A gray parrot twisted his head.

She reached inside the cage, and he climbed onto her hand. “Jasper, I want you to meet somebody.”

“Lookin’ good, girl.”

Thatcher joined her. “I’m a guy, Jasper.”

“Be nice, Jasper,” she said. “He’s a guest.”

“What’s up, taco?” Jasper said.

Thatcher chuckled. “Never a dull moment here.” He stuck his finger toward the bird.

“Watch it
 
—he bites,” she said. “And he’s the jealous type.” Her brown eyes sparkled. “We’ve been amigos for eight years.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty, and he’ll live to fifty or more years old.”

Thatcher started. “Didn’t know that. Where did you find him?”

“At a parrot sanctuary. He just looked lost.”

Jasper whistled the
Hawaii Five-O
theme.

“Okay, clown.” She placed him inside his cage and grabbed a blanket.

“Please, not this,” Jasper said.

“Sorry, buddy. We’re leaving. I’m starved.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Thatcher said. “Bye, Jasper. Nice meeting you.”

“Bye, gringo.”

Bethany wagged her finger at the bird. “Behave yourself while I’m gone.”

Outside, Thatcher debated opening the car door for her. When they ate out during the week, they were partners. But his mama had raised him right, so he opened her door.

“Aren’t you the gentleman?”

“I might not have enough money to pay for dinner, so I’m laying the groundwork.”

She smiled, revealing those incredible dimples, and he questioned his sanity. They drove to Brio talking about Jasper, their day’s work on the case, and their favorite country-western singers.

Once seated at the restaurant, and after their beverages had been delivered along with a basket of warm Italian bread, he relaxed. Bethany was his partner, a friend. They chose their food and decided to add a side of risotto with chicken and sweet potatoes.

He dug deep for guts. “I have motive for dinner tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “Do I need my weapon?”

“You might. This is tough but needs to be said. You were great in opening up and telling me about your family. I’m a private person, but it’s time I reciprocate and crack my exterior.”

“I’m listening, and I don’t judge. Most of the time.”

Bluntness was one of those traits he admired about her. “Remember on Monday I told you the best day of my life was a few weeks ago?”

“Yes.”

“And remember I said I meet with Laurel Evertson’s fiancé on Saturday mornings?” When she nodded, he continued. “Happens to be the same guy who saved my life. He’s no longer with HPD but in law school. Those meetings have been a Bible study, and a few weeks ago, I took the plunge and became a Christian.”

“Wonderful. Why were you hesitant to tell me?”

He chuckled. “My bad-boy reputation. I want to show my faith, not spout it.”

“Makes sense.” She took a sip of her standard drink, Diet Dr Pepper. “I’ll keep your decision to myself, and I respect your feeling comfortable with me to talk about it.”

Now he felt foolish. “Okay, phase two.”

“The case?”

He narrowed his gaze. “Yes, the case. I was hard on you about Lucas.”

She held up her hand. “Those were things I must face. Unfortunately a lot of truth.”

“I’m not apologizing, just wish I’d been a little easier on you.”

She stared at her drink, then back to him. “Don’t hold back on me. Because I’ll never do it to you.”

“Fair enough. Do you have any idea how tough it was to speak openly about my faith?” he said.

“I really understand. Oh, the stories I’ve heard about you.” She sobered. “None of which I’ve seen. So . . . what church are you attending?”

“None yet. Thought about it but didn’t know where to start.”

“You could try mine. It’s nondenominational, contemporary music. Incredible preaching.”

“Okay. I have nothing to compare it to. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure.” She wrote down an address. “Here, if you decide to join me. Nine thirty.”

He slipped it into his wallet.

“You know why my family and I are at odds,” she said. “What about yours?”

Okay, Thatcher, you’re on.
“Dad and I never got along. I was into music, had my own band. Add drinking and girls. Dad thought I should be in law enforcement before I broke the law and wouldn’t qualify. I was interested in psychology. Still am. Did my grad work and entered practice. Enjoyed it, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life seeing patients. Dad offered ten grand if I applied to the FBI.” He shrugged. “Hard to turn it down.”

“You’re a great agent.”

No condescension in her tone or eyes, and it warmed him. “Thanks. I despised my dad’s nagging, hated him for it. But he saw in me what I didn’t. Short story, he died of a stroke before we made amends.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. Life seldom fits together the way we predict. I’d like to think he died knowing I loved him.”

“I bet he was extremely proud of you.”

“Possibly. Enough talk about me. We’re investigating a case.”

She reached for her glass. “The memorial service touched all of us. I saw Alicia’s file. Nothing there but the basics. Pastor Lee wrote a glowing recommendation letter about her and Paul’s work in the church. Thought I’d gag. What about your day?”

“Met with Daniel this morning. Worked out hard. And read everything documented on the Scorpion cases
 
—multiple times. Made notes for us to follow up on.” The server delivered their food. “Great, now we can eat.”

She wiggled her shoulders, something he hadn’t seen. “This is amazing, and I’m starved. Can I ask more questions between bites?”

“Of course. We’re here to work, right?”

From the look on her face, her feelings for him were headed in the same direction as his.

Ten minutes into dinner, her cell alerted her to a text. She paled.

Dread punched him in the gut. “Lucas?”

She nodded. “‘I have u on my schedule.’”

“This is no way to live,” he said.

“Tonight, this very minute? I’d rather be on the front lines fighting to stay alive than allowing him to think he’s frightened me,” she said. “Soon.”

8:25 A.M. SUNDAY

Bethany cut the price tag from a knee-length brown-and-orange jacket and tossed the tag into the trash. The colors blended perfectly with a tan sweater and slacks set for church this morning. She’d purchased it last season along with boots and a chunky necklace to match and forgotten they were in the back of her closet. One of her many vices. She picked up a pen beside a calendar on her nightstand. Day twenty-seven without going shopping. Somewhere there was an anonymous group for addicted shoppers. She also needed a twelve-step program to help her deal with a brother who was a criminal.

Her thoughts turned to last night’s dinner . . . more on Thatcher than the case. The man gave
un hombre guapo
new definition. But referring to Thatcher as one good-looking hombre didn’t change the FBI’s recommended conduct policy, and she was definitely a rules girl.

When her phone rang, she expected the caller to be Thatcher declining church. In fact, it would be better if he’d changed his mind. Spending every day with him created havoc with more than his method of solving cases. But the number wasn’t familiar and she answered.

“Agent Sanchez, this is Anita Cooke. We haven’t heard from Carly. She was supposed to be home by four yesterday afternoon,
and we’ve heard nothing. This isn’t like her to worry us. There’s more.” Her voice broke. “I suspected Paul might have arranged to pay his bail, so a moment ago I called his cell phone. He answered. I panicked, just thinking of what he could do to her.”

An image of Carly’s battered body landed in her mind. “Did you talk to him?”

“Yes. He said he didn’t keep track of her. When I asked if she’d been there, he hung up. He can get so angry.”

“I’ll see what I can do. What’s the license plate of her car?”

While she pressed in the information on her phone, dread crept through her. Had Carly risked her life to find her mother’s killer? Bethany should have been more insistent she stay away from her father’s house. She focused on what little she knew about the young woman. “Where was she going?”

“She told me she had something to do at her father’s house while he was in jail. I wanted her to wait for her uncle, but she wanted to handle the situation herself.”

Carly hadn’t tossed aside the private investigator role. “I’m assuming you’ve tried calling her.”

“Yes, and texted her too.”

“What about Shannon or Carly’s friends?”

“They haven’t heard from her either. Carly’s such a good girl, and she gave me the numbers of several friends in case I couldn’t reach her.” She drew in a breath. “My husband wants to confront Paul.”

“Mrs. Cooke, that’s not a good idea. I suggest you wait there for my call or Carly’s return.”

“All right. I’m really frightened.”

Bethany needed a clear head, and responsibility for Carly’s welfare scratched at her conscience. While dressing, she called Thatcher and quickly explained Anita Cooke’s call along with confirmation of Paul Javon’s release from jail.

“I’ll meet you at Javon’s house,” he said.

She snatched her keys. “I’m leaving now. Doubt if we make church on time.”

At the Javon home, the drapes were open in the living room to reveal the harp and grand piano. Thatcher pulled in right behind her at the curb and exited. They walked up the sidewalk together, and he rang the doorbell three times.

“Do you suppose he saw us?” she said. “Or isn’t at home?”

“We don’t have a warrant. No legal reason to be here.” Thatcher pressed the doorbell one more time. “We’re wasting our time.”

Her cell rang, and this time she recognized Anita Cooke’s number. “Carly called us from a friend’s house. She’s pretty shaken. Her dad came home with a woman and caught her going through her mother’s closet.”

Bethany seized Thatcher’s attention. “Is she all right?”

“We’re going to pick her up now and take her to the ER. She thinks he broke her fingers.”

“Which hospital?”

“Houston Methodist at the Medical Center.”

“We’re on our way.” Bethany relayed the conversation to Thatcher. “If she can identify Javon’s girlfriend, she could be in more danger than broken fingers and a battered body.”

At the hospital’s ER, Carly sat with a couple whom she introduced as Anita and Ken Cooke. Anita resembled her sister and nieces. Ken Cooke, a heavily bearded man, reminded Bethany of a rabbi. Make that an Old Testament prophet who spit brimstone and fire.

“I want Paul Javon behind bars for good,” Ken said.

“We’ll do our best to help you,” Thatcher said. “Your niece is a brave girl.”

Bethany glanced at Carly’s right hand. Even under an ice pack, the swelling was evident. A fresh bruise beside her mouth indicated more mistreatment.

“Thanks for coming.” Tears splattered Carly’s face, the lines deepening in obvious pain. “I’m not as smart as I thought.” She grimaced. “Wouldn’t be surprised if my wrist is broken too.”

“Any idea how long before you’ll be treated?” Bethany said.

Carly gave a grim smile. “Two people are ahead of me.”

Bethany eased into a seat beside the young woman. “Can you explain what happened?”

She took a breath and stared at her injured hand. “Never had a clue Dad would pay bail. But I should have figured it out. He’d changed the locks on the door, except the garage side door. I let myself in and picked the lock on their bedroom. I searched everywhere for Mom’s phone
 
—under the bed, between the mattress and box springs, in Mom’s things, their closets. When I heard Dad coming up the stairs and a woman call his name and laugh, I panicked and tripped over a drawer. He walked in and went crazy.” She leaned her head on Anita’s shoulder. “I didn’t have any place to run. I was trapped. He stood in the doorway and ranted. Wanted to know how I’d gotten inside the house. He went through my purse and found my key. Took all my cash.”

“How did you get hurt?”

Carly was a kid wanting to right a wrong. “He accused me of framing him for Mom’s murder. With each word he moved closer. He grabbed my fingers and bent them and my wrist back. I heard them pop and screamed. He must have been afraid of the neighbors because he let go.” She took a deep breath. “I ran from the room. Never saw the woman.”

Anita patted her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. I failed, and now he’ll come after Shannon.”

Bethany’s temper escalated. How could a man treat his own daughter like an animal? “Are you willing to press charges again?”

“Whatever it takes. He’s a jerk, and I hate him.”

Bethany refused to give the lecture on how those we love could also make us hate. She focused on Anita and Ken. “You’ll make sure she files charges?”

“Already called the police and our lawyer. Paul murdered Alicia, and he nearly killed Carly.”

“Sir,” Thatcher said, “I understand
 
—”

“Don’t placate me.”

“Paul Javon is a dangerous man, and he’ll soon be under the
care of Harris County again. This time he won’t be released so easily.” Thatcher turned to Carly. “Promise me, Special Agent Sanchez, and your aunt and uncle that you will leave the investigation to trained people.”

“Amen,” Ken said.

“I promise,” she whispered. “I’m worried about Shannon. She spent the afternoon with a friend, so I think she’s okay.”

Ken pulled his phone from his pants pocket. “I’m calling her now. The three of us together can persuade her to stay clear of your dad until he’s arrested.”

“Carly Javon,” a nurse called.

Bethany gave her business card to Ken and watched the three disappear into the treatment area.

“Do you think she’s told us everything?” Thatcher said.

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

Thatcher stared at the doors leading to the ER. “Carly loved her mother, which means more heart than brains. She’s a fighter. But she might not be as lucky the next time.”

7:30 P.M. SUNDAY

Bethany had been looking forward all day to her dinner date with Elizabeth. They talked for hours, until their yawns signified a need for sleep. They were kindred hearts, even if they were from different cultures
 
—Bethany’s Hispanic heritage contrasting with her friend’s milky-white features.

Bethany attempted to ignore the stress raging through her and concentrate on her friend, except her attention and thoughts about the murders always surfaced.

“You’re all absorbed in the Scorpion case, aren’t you?” Elizabeth said.

“Does it show? I’m sorry.”

“I knew it was either the case or a man, and knowing you, it was work.”

Bethany’s pulse raced, and she hoped she wasn’t developing feelings for off-limits Thatcher. Half the time, she didn’t even like him. “I simply want the killer stopped. Feels like he’s playing a game. Working hate crimes was easier, and someone would always talk. But that’s not necessarily true in violent crime when a killer lives to strike again.” She lifted her chin. “No more shoptalk. What have you been up to?”

Elizabeth had expressed a longing for family, and she’d met a nice guy about two months ago. A slow blush touched her cheeks. “Still seeing the same guy.”

“I need details. Background? Any priors?” Bethany said with a laugh.

“He’s a history teacher and basketball coach at a private Christian high school.” Elizabeth’s eyes held a soft, dreamy look. “Has a three-year-old little boy and is raising him alone. We’ve had good times together.”

“Are you happy?”

Her eyes danced. “Very. But we’ll see. Both of us are praying about our relationship.”

“Wonderful. The thought of a relationship terrifies me.”

“I think God instructs us to follow Him, afraid or not.”

“Which is why I’m single and working violent crime.”

Elizabeth touched her arm. “If you’re waiting for problems in your family to fade away, I doubt it will happen.”