Double Cross (19 page)

12:30 P.M. WEDNESDAY

Abby replaced the crackers in the pantry and opened the dishwasher to stow away the soup bowls from lunch. Earl loved homemade chicken noodle soup with a kick of jalapeño. He wanted corn bread, but he’d had butter and apple jelly on biscuits for breakfast, raising his cholesterol and sugar. Since he’d had bacon, eggs, and hash browns too, she’d taken a nutritional stand. After all, she was the head dietitian in the house.

Melodious sounds from the piano took her back in time to when Earl played for churches and weddings. Even though his mind might not be onstage, music still flowed from his fingertips.

The doorbell diverted her. She hurried to the foyer. Ah, Pete and a young woman. She disarmed the security system and opened the door to greet them.

Pete smiled. “Miss Abby, you and Earl have a pizza.”

“Oh, my. But I didn’t order one.”

“Looks like Daniel sent it.” Pete picked up the note on the box.

Strange, since Abby didn’t care for pizza. “How nice of him.”

The young woman laughed. “I wish someone would surprise me with lunch. When he called it in, he asked that I set it on your table.”

“Impossible, ma’am,” Pete said and took the box.

“Let me get you a tip.” The smell of pepperoni and tomato sauce filled Abby’s nose. If only she enjoyed it.

“Not necessary.” The young woman smiled. “Your grandson took care of me nicely.” She left, turning to wave when she got to her car.

“Mercy, Earl and I just ate.” She glanced at Pete. “But you haven’t. Why not enjoy this, our treat?”

“Are you sure?” He lifted the lid on the box and stared hungrily. “Mushrooms aren’t my favorite, but I’m hungry.”

“You could pick them off. Come on in.”

“No, Miss Abby. The front porch is fine.”

Abby retrieved a few napkins and a tall glass of iced tea for him, then returned to tidy up the kitchen. One thing about being at home meant she could cook a decent meal instead of eating on the fly. While the officers guarded their home, she could fix plenty and it would be eaten. Another reason she didn’t understand the delivery.

She made her way to the front porch to see if Pete needed a refill on his tea. Pizza could be messy, and she’d given him only a couple napkins. Opening the door, she gasped. He lay facedown beside the rocker.

“Pete!” She bent to his side. He was breathing but she couldn’t wake him. She grabbed his phone sticking from his shirt pocket and dialed 911. “I have an unconscious man. Possibly a heart attack.” Abby listened to the instructions. “Yes, sir. I’m right here until help arrives.”

Pizza littered the porch floor. She counted two pieces missing. Her mind flew to the young woman who’d delivered it. Neither her ball cap nor her car had advertised a pizza company.

She pressed in Daniel’s number. He responded on the first ring.

“Hey, Pete. Everything okay?”

“This is Gran. We have an emergency. I called 911 for Pete. He’s unconscious on our porch.”

“What happened?”

She drew in a heavy breath. “I’m not sure. But I have an idea.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Did he arrive sick?”

“No. Earl and I ate lunch early, and then your pizza arrived.”

“Gran, I didn’t order pizza.”

She touched her heart. “A young woman delivered it. Said you’d sent lunch. I gave it to Pete since we’d eaten. I should have known you wouldn’t have ordered it. Where is my common sense?”

“Calm down. Did he eat it all?”

“Two pieces.”

“Tell the paramedics there’s a good chance Pete’s been poisoned.”

“My thoughts too. How awful. Daniel, it was supposed to be us. When will the tragedies end?”

“Soon. I promise. Many people are working on stopping the scammers. Pray for Pete and for those responsible to get caught.”

A siren blared in the distance. “The ambulance is almost here. I’ll text you with the hospital. Earl and I will follow in the Lexus.”

“Gran, I don’t like you driving.”

“Get over it.”

“Okay. Be careful. I’ll call Pete’s wife. He’s a strong, healthy man and can pull through this.”

She studied Pete’s pale face. “I hope so. I’m ready to fight back. Unload on them.”

“Gran
 
—”

“Remember when I said I couldn’t shoot someone? The rules have changed.”

1:45 P.M. WEDNESDAY

Daniel swapped out the BMW for his truck and hurriedly changed his clothes from “Krestle” to jeans and a pullover. He doused his hair with a bottle of water and sped to the hospital. The doctors were taking care of Pete, and a few minutes for Daniel to change his disguise meant staying on the case.

Attempting to poison his grandparents would have worked if not for Gran despising pizza and not allowing Gramps to have it. Plus they always ate lunch at eleven thirty.

He pulled into the visitor parking area of Houston Methodist Hospital and pressed in Laurel’s burner number on his burner phone.

“Laurel, I have a problem.”

“What’s happened?”

He explained the pizza poisoning.

“I’ll be right there.”

“Think about it. Cayden’s people are tailing both of us. I’ve changed clothes and have my truck.”

“I’ll lose them and change up my looks.”

“This is beginning to feel like a bad movie.”

“It’s what we do, Daniel. Don’t worry. Pete will be okay, and I won’t give myself away. I promise.”

2:40 P.M. WEDNESDAY

As afternoon lowered its shawl over the city, Laurel hurried into Methodist Hospital. Temps dipped into the fifties, unusually chilly and yet befitting her mood. Why couldn’t they catch these guys?

She exited a rented vehicle wearing a long dark wig and a cap, a dark-brown tunic, leggings, and boots with four-inch heels.

She and Daniel had their differences
 
—more like oceans dividing them with the faith issue
 
—but the officer’s serious condition was a result of someone wanting his grandparents dead. She cared about Abby and Earl, and that brought her and Daniel together in many ways. She loathed that older people were losing thousands of dollars and others were dying of supposedly natural causes. Yet she was convinced Wilmington had a part in it.

October 15 loomed like a savage beast. Nine days until the fund-raising dinner. So many agents were on the case. The FBI needed a list of the guests. The obvious ploy would be the scammers having their hands on credit card information. The next step would be identifying how the money would be laundered. And what about all the money stolen from the elderly? How had it been laundered? If the victims hadn’t taken steps to ensure the safety of their funds, then more would be drawn from their financials.

Inside the hospital, Daniel and his grandparents sat in a waiting area. Whom did she approach first? So much for the confident agent who managed her life according to textbook principles. She made her way to them and spoke before Daniel recognized her. He rose and gave her a hug, then directed her away from his grandparents. The strength in his arms flooded her senses. She refused to get used to this.

“Thanks for coming. Good job with the getup.” A slight smile from him met her. “Pete’s holding his own. He’s conscious.”

“Stomach pumped?”

“Yes, and they’re filling him with IV fluids. His wife is with him.”

“I bet he’s miserable. What’s the word on the poison?”

“Poisonous mushrooms,” Daniel said. “We have a report from a restaurant near them about a young woman dressed in jeans and a baseball cap who picked up the pizza matching what was delivered to my grandparents. She avoided the security camera but appears to be the same size as Fields.”

“She’s persistent. Getting bolder.”

“More like desperate. She’s pressed me a little too far. Not sure poisoning would hold up for a life insurance policy, but she obviously thought so. She altered her appearance from her stint at Silver Hospitality and the bakery.”

Laurel had spent hours analyzing this woman. “Feeds into her behavior.”

“Fields is working to eliminate as many people as possible who bought life insurance policies.”

“Would she think your grandparents had any incriminating information other than the life insurance policies?”

“Only the brochure.” He paused. “They could possibly have something else, but Gran or Gramps would have told me.”

“Daniel, with your grandfather’s health . . .”

“I’m well aware of what he does and doesn’t remember.” He glanced away as though thinking. “I’m going through every inch of their house tonight. Don’t want to assume anything without looking into every angle.”

Abby walked to their side and took Laurel’s hand. “Took me a minute until I saw your pretty brown eyes. I appreciate your coming. We’re concerned about Pete, but he’s better. I admit he had me shaken before the paramedics arrived.”

Laurel glanced at Earl. “Is your husband okay?”

“Not his mind. Skipping, as he calls it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Abby smiled. “His places are often better than the real ones. Days like this I envy him.”

When Laurel pondered the blackness of her own life, an escape
into oblivion sounded appealing. As a teen, she’d used sex and whatever else to smother reality. Nothing helped. She gave up. The only temporary satisfaction came from doing her job.

Daniel suddenly took fast steps toward the hospital elevators.

Laurel saw the woman leaving too, dressed in hospital scrubs
 
—Josie Fields.

“Stop, HPD!” he said and pulled his gun.

Fields raced toward the entrance doors, turned, and fired, narrowly missing Daniel and sending a bullet back through the hospital reception area. Screams erupted. People bolted and sought refuge. Fields sprinted outside and into the parking lot with Daniel and Laurel in pursuit.

Laurel held her breath. Had she already gotten to Pete?

Daniel fired.

Fields grabbed her right thigh and shot at him again. Blood seeped down the leg of her scrubs.

“I need her alive!” Daniel shouted.

Fields turned and took dead aim at Daniel.

Laurel pressed the trigger. Fields staggered, and blood gushed from her upper left shoulder. A black Escalade sped to her side. The driver yanked her onto the front seat. It sped away before Fields’s feet left the ground.

Laurel and Daniel pumped rounds into the vehicle’s rear. It wove through the parking lot in a squeal of tires and with a host of holes, including a shattered rear window.

“Run-flat tires,” Daniel said. “What haven’t they done to cover their rears?”

“Blood spatters will help prove her identity.” Laurel’s frustration at not stopping the Escalade burst into her words. “The best we can hope for is her need for medical assistance.”

“I have the license plate number.” Daniel sounded strange.

Laurel whirled around. Blood poured from his left lower arm, near his wrist. She swallowed, remembering Jesse bleeding out. Already her feelings were getting in the way of her job.

He set his jaw. “Got me one more reason to find that woman. She’d better not have hurt Pete.”

“At least we’re at a hospital.”

“Can you get her blood sample?”

She reached for her phone. “I need to call the Evidence Response Team for one of them to collect it.” She made the request while concern for Daniel’s wound mounted, competing with the urgency to keep the blood sample safe from contamination until the ERT arrived.

“I’m calling Preston,” Daniel said, his face pinched with the pain.

“With the shots, HPD will be here soon. They’ll be checking all the hospitals and clinics.”

A security guard hurried to their side.

Daniel flipped his HPD creds. “Stay here until authorities arrive. HPD and the FBI are on their way. I’ll be inside the hospital.”

“Don’t touch the crime scene,” she said. “Guard this blood spatter until it’s photographed and gathered.”

Supporting his wounded wrist while blood seeped between his fingers, Daniel moved toward the hospital entrance. “Guess it could have been my right arm.”

And Daniel might have ended up like Jesse. “I should have seen her before you.”

“Why? So the FBI could have credit for saving a lowly cop?”

He hurt and she understood where the cutting words came from. “No, you idiot. My awareness might have prevented your injury.”

“Heroic.”

“The ER is around the corner,” she said.

Abby met them outside the hospital door. She covered her mouth and stepped forward.

“I’m checking on Pete first. Not now, Gran. The bullet grazed me, more blood than anything else.”

“You can’t help Pete like this. You can’t even help yourself.” Abby sounded harsh, but fear didn’t have a fixed vocabulary.

“Daniel,” Laurel said. “I’ll see about Pete. You’re losing more blood than you realize.”

Lines raked across his forehead. “I’m heading up the elevator. I don’t give a rip about what some medical professional says. Gran, stay with Gramps. Laurel, you can go with me or do whatever. Your choice.”

Gran removed her sweater and wrapped it around Daniel’s wrist.

“You are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.” Laurel wanted to shake her fist at him.

He glared at her. “I’m in good company.”