Double Cross (20 page)

3:15 P.M. WEDNESDAY

Daniel managed to endure Laurel’s lecture in the elevator and find Pete’s room. The pain in his wrist thumped in time to his heartbeat. When had he become such a wuss? He’d never been shot by a female until today. It hurt just like the time he’d been shot by a drunk a few years ago.

But first things first.

Pete’s wife, an attractive redhead, sat at her husband’s bedside. She rested one hand on his shoulder. Daniel greeted her, then focused on Pete. He opened his eyes and frowned.

Daniel bent over the bed. “Hey, Pete. How are you doing? Heard you liked pizza.”

“Very funny. Looks like I’m doing better than you are. You must have tangled with the gal who serves up tasty mushrooms with pepperoni and extra cheese.”

“Was she here?”

“Yeah. Tried to stick something in my IV, but I recognized her. Took off real fast. The little wife tore after her too. My kind of woman.” He blew a kiss at her. “I pushed the call button, but she got away.” He squinted. “Who’s with you?”

Daniel chuckled. “Laurel.”

“Makes me wonder what’s going on with you two.” He shook his head. “Aren’t you with Morton Wilmington? And why the disguise?”

“Yes. But Abby and Earl are special people.”

His grin told Daniel that Pete understood exactly what was going on. “This stays right here. You can trust me.”

Laurel stepped closer. “Thanks, Pete. Daniel recognized your delivery gal leaving the hospital and chased her outside.”

Pete positioned his fingers like a gun. “She must have fired her pleasure at being chased.”

“He left a bullet in her thigh,” she said.

Daniel forced a chuckle. “Laurel’s aim did more damage to her shoulder. Somebody was waiting for her to exit and picked her up. Or rather, dragged her into an SUV.” He reached deep for pain control. “I wanted her alive for questioning.” Great, he was whining.

She shrugged. “Admit it, we’re a sick team. All three of us nursing our wounds. And the bad guys are on the loose.”

Pete closed his eyes. “I’m on the mend. Batman and Batgirl need therapy.”

Daniel snorted at Pete’s remark and eased onto a chair, noting the blood staining Gran’s sweater, a new one that he’d bought her. He’d replace it. “You’re the officer of concern here. What’s the diagnosis?”

“After the stomach pump and taking enough blood to start my own bank, the doc announced an overnighter.”

“Good call. Bet you won’t be eating pizza for a long time.”

Pete lifted a brow. “The thought of even smelling it makes me want to puke. Let’s cut the chitchat. You need a doctor.”

“I’ll get to it.” The overprotective virus was killing him worse than the gunshot. “What can you tell me about the gal who delivered the pizza? I want to make sure it’s the same person we just shot.”

“Dressed like a teen. Perky and sweet.” He responded with the same story Gran had told. “The moment I started feeling sick, I suspected what happened. At least it was me and not your grandparents. Some bodyguard I am. The gal said you ordered it hand-delivered on their kitchen table, but that didn’t fly with me.”

The situation raised Daniel’s fury. His earlier commitment to search through every inch of their home now became urgent. “I’m putting Gran and Gramps in a hotel tonight. Sending them home bothers me. The shooter might not be moving too fast right now, if she’s even alive, but she’s not the only one involved.”

“Who is she?”

“She uses several aliases.”

“I agree your grandparents need to be moved. What about keeping an officer posted at their home in case someone shows?” Laurel said.

Why did every comment make him mad? “I’m getting this arm bandaged up, and I’ll handle protective detail myself.”

Laurel planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so, Officer Hilton. You can’t be alone in your condition. You’ll be given pain meds, and those things knock you out. Better to hire someone.”

“Says who?”

“Hold on,” Pete said. “Do you two always get along like this?”

“Always,” Laurel huffed. “No wonder he doesn’t have a partner with HPD.”

“Don’t get me started,” Daniel said. “No one knows the real Laurel.”

Pete’s wife laughed. She hadn’t spoken two words since they walked in to check on her husband. “Let me point out the obvious
 
—both of you have injuries and that sets the stage for bickering. I suggest you lock up your weapons.”

“Then we’ll take care of each other.” Laurel rubbed Daniel’s back, then caught herself and stopped. “After a doctor looks at his arm.”

“Wrist.”

“Lower arm.”

“Okay, Batgirl,” Daniel said. “Let’s get Batman fixed up. We have a cave to investigate.”

7:00 P.M. WEDNESDAY

Daniel’s grandparents’ home lit up the darkness with the highest quality landscaping lights and motion detectors on the market. They were so sensitive, squirrels could occasionally trigger them. But all the precautions he’d put in place for his grandparents’ safety, including the bodyguards, were useless if someone wanted inside badly enough.

He pulled his truck into the driveway, and Laurel hugged the curb with her rented vehicle. At least the long night ahead gave him time to persuade her about looking to the future. His conscience slammed against his heart. They had an unsolved case. Hadn’t he decided his first concern should be his grandparents and all the victimized elderly’s welfare? And what about the condition of her soul? But to reach that area, he needed to understand her past. Anything else was selfish.

Before exiting his truck, he reached into his glove box and swallowed three Tylenol dry. The prescription meds would have to wait. He stepped out and chirped the truck alarm system. A moment later Laurel joined him. Her incredible nut-brown eyes still stole his breath.

“Are you sure you feel up to this?” she said.

He chuckled. What a loaded question. “How did you respond to that when you were shot? I recall a concern for Phantom while you looked for clues in the dark.”

“Touché. You could nap while I stand guard. Then we can do the searching.”

“Batman and Batgirl work together. Beside, you’re recovering from a bullet too.”

“Not by the same gun.”

“More of a reason for us to stay alert. Let’s park our vehicles in the garage.” He pointed to the driveway winding around the home. “If someone shows up, I want the element of surprise on our side.”

“Sure. With the lights on, it’ll look like your grandparents are at home.”

They drove to the rear of the house and parked inside the four-car garage.

“Look at the tools.” She ran her fingers over a locked chest. “Why two enormous tool chests?”

“One for Gran and one for Gramps.”

“After spending time with your grandmother, I’m not surprised.”

“Until five years ago, she changed the oil on their vehicles.”

Laurel shook her head. After ensuring the house was clear, a task in which she let him lead the room-to-room search, she touched his arm.

“I want to see the trophy room again,” she said. “The one with the animals.”

He laughed. “We call it the game room.”

“More like big game room. Did your grandfather shoot the bear, lion, jackal, and I think the mounting was a crocodile?”

“Nope.”

“So he collected them?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are they there?”

“Gran shot them.”

She shook her head. “Is there anything she hasn’t done?”

“She has a bucket list.”

“What’s left?”

“Crocheting a blanket for my child.”

She drew in a breath. “I see.”

Sometimes the thought of parenthood gave him hope of doing better than his own parents. Other times it shook him worse than facing bad guys without a weapon.

They entered the kitchen.

“Wow.” She surveyed the room, and her eyes sparkled. “This kitchen is amazing. Stainless steel appliances, and I’d trade my
stash of Snickers for these copper pans. Cupboards to the ceiling too.” She whirled around. “Two gas ovens. Yet it’s comfortable. Like your grandparents . . . and you.”

“Did I hear a compliment?”

“If you think being compared to a kitchen the size of my apartment is a compliment, go for it.”

“Why not? Don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

“Great. I’ll put on coffee,” he said. “We could have omelets before we dive into the night’s search.”

“Perfect.” She tore off the wig and washed her hands. “Lots of veggies would be great. Did you ask permission to look through your grandparents’ personal possessions?”

“Will a verbal suffice?”

“I suppose.” She grabbed the refrigerator door. “Got any bacon?”

Daniel assessed the woman before him, figure perfect and yet she loved Snickers and bacon. “Yep. May find a few buttermilk biscuits too.”

She offered a high five, and they both winced with their gunshot wounds. He liked spending time with her. Very much.

“How many people cook this time of night with firearms tucked in their waistbands?” she said.

“Few, Agent Evertson.” He faced her. “Kinda cool, though.”

She opened the fridge. “We need apple jelly.”

“Get the dairy-free butter, too,” Daniel said.

“Lactose intolerant?”

“Another one of my dark secrets.”

She stood with his butter substitute in one hand and apple jelly in the other. “So am I.”

“You mean we finally have something in common?”

“That and slugs.”

Daniel whipped up omelets while she fried bacon and warmed biscuits.

She set silverware, napkins, and large glasses of orange juice on the table. “This smells so good.”

“Then let’s eat.” He filled two plates with their feast. “Mind if I pray first?”

Her face went blank.

“It’ll be short.”

“Sure, why not?” Her terse tone indicated she wasn’t on board, but her disapproval didn’t stop him.

His prayer lasted all of twenty seconds, but they still ate in silence and cleaned up the kitchen with only a few words exchanged between them. Daniel left her to her thoughts and rummaged through the upper cabinets for anything Gramps might have hidden away.

Laurel paced the kitchen floor, reminding him of a caged cat.

“I’m not apologizing for praying before we ate.”

She opened a cabinet filled with cookbooks. “Give me some hints about where your grandparents might hide this thing, whatever it is.”

“Avoiding a subject doesn’t make it go away.”

“A business card or a phone number that seems obscure?”

“Laurel, being a Christian doesn’t mean you’ve entered enemy territory.”

She kept her back turned to him. “As if you’re going to influence me. Morton Wilmington already tried, and both of you struck out.”

“Is God the problem here?”

“Something like that.”

“How about an open mind?”

“No, Daniel. I’m not interested.”

“Why?”

“Because of who I am.”

“You’re not making sense. We’re both in law enforcement. My past and my beliefs are why I’m committed to the police department.”

“My past is why I have no choice but to avoid God. Conversation ended.”

He took her shoulders and turned her to face him, gazing into the depths of her smoldering eyes. “If you can’t trust me after what we’ve been through, who can you trust?”

She trembled. “I don’t think there’s anyone alive who fits the bill.”

He released her shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. “We have time to find something or nothing. Tell me what’s tearing you apart. I care too much to see you upset.”

“You faced your demons and mastered them.” She stepped back, releasing his hold on her. “I am a demon.”

8:45 P.M. WEDNESDAY

Laurel fought her staggering emotions as Daniel’s face softened. “Don’t pity me.” She meant the words to be harsh. Instead they choked out, sounding like the frightened little girl inside her.

“This is not about pity. I see a beautiful woman who’s hurting. All I want is to help.”

Her stomach tightened. “I’m the kind your grandmother warned you about, the kind who hung out with your mother. Name it, and I’ve probably done it.”

“Who are you running from? Yourself? God? Or me? Actually, I’m not the real issue. I know from experience it’s God.”

She frowned, doubting he had any clue how she felt. “You think because you visited your mother in prison that everything’s right in your world.”

“She told me never to come back. My point is I know life is hard. When we keep the junk bottled up inside, we end up like those who hurt us.”

She crossed her arms, realizing her body language indicated what she wanted to hide. Coming here was a bad idea. Daniel seemed to look straight through her, but he didn’t see the ugliness. She avoided his gaze while wrestling for control. “My story is a nightmare. Wilmington learned most of it through his sources. Su-Min heard bits and pieces.”

“I don’t judge. I read media reports about what you had to do regarding Wilmington. I have a good ear. You could start at the beginning and finish at the end.”

If only she could make all the nightmares disappear. “You make it sound simple.”

“I know better. Every word and memory will be tough.” He nodded at the coffeemaker. “We have plenty of coffee and lots of time.”

She hated her inability to stay strong. Why not unload so he’d stop pursuing her? “All right.”

He gestured to a kitchen chair, and she lowered herself onto it. Her gentle giant seated himself across the table and took her hand. He smiled, and she clawed for courage. Could she tell him about the night her world collapsed and how it hadn’t made sense for far too many years?

“What if we’re interrupted?”

“We’ll pick up where we left off. If it’s easier, close your eyes.”

She obeyed and was immediately transported back to a peaceful time, when her world danced and sang to a little girl’s whim
 
—the days when she and Mom baked cookies and visited the art museum, and Dad showed her how to ride a horse and play math games. “When I was ten years old, while I slept in my canopy bed in a room painted pink, with my dolls and stuffed animals in perfect order, burglars broke into our home. I heard two shots and rushed out of bed and down the stairs, surprising two masked thieves. They must have thought shooting a child was beneath them because they left through the back door.” How many times had she wished they’d killed her, too? She opened her eyes.

“My mother had collapsed on the floor near the sofa with a hole in her chest, and Dad made it as far as the kitchen. A shot in the head. Blood everywhere. The walls, furniture. I called 911, but my parents bled out before the ambulance arrived. Mom struggled for breath and whispered my name. I cried for God to save them, but He refused.” Memories sliced through her heart.
How many times had Miss Kathryn begged her to talk about that night?

“The police never found the killers. My whereabouts were kept secret because law enforcement feared my life could be in danger. Social services placed me in a foster home
 
—a little girl overcome with bitterness, hurt, and incredible loneliness. Rebellion became my middle name. My foster parents tried to reach me, and Miss Kathryn never gave up. No one could take my parents’ place, and I refused to let anyone into my hellish world. Miss Kathryn showed me unconditional love. She showed me in every way what it meant to love with no stipulations.” She drew in a breath that hurt.

“Don’t stop now.” He lightly squeezed her hand.

She’d come this far, but her heart seemed cold, like the little girl in her nightmares never existed. Laurel tried to smile, but it refused to grace her lips. “In the past, I worked as a cryptologist, where I decoded puzzles, even though I can’t make the jagged pieces of my own life fit. So that’s why I’m on a crusade to stop anyone who threatens others.” She stood from the chair, not willing to look at him, and walked into the mammoth living room. Her energy depleted, she sank into the cushions of the sofa. Daniel followed her into the dark room and eased down beside her.

“Miss Kathryn was a Christian. I had no clue what she meant. Neither was I interested. Her husband tolerated me because of her. He had no use for a little girl who swore like a sailor and later drank like one. I attended church with her, but I couldn’t trust a God who’d allowed the horror in my life.” She paused, reining in the tears. “Miss Kathryn was my lifeline.”

“Love works that way,” Daniel said. “It’s a glimpse of how life is supposed to be.”

His tender words swirled through her. “As a teen, I grew tired of feeling invisible and wanted someone to notice me. My method was sexual promiscuity.” She caught his chocolate gaze. “Except I
refused Miss Kathryn’s husband, and he hated me for it. I locked in a scholarship at Stanford and later earned my master’s. Went to work for the FBI, and here I am.” She rubbed her arms. “Daniel, there’s more. The agent who was killed the night of Wilmington’s arrest? I thought I could talk Wilmington down and hesitated. That’s when he was shot.” She swiped at a tear. “Jesse had a family, a dear wife and children. He was a Christian. A lot of good his faith did for him or his loved ones.”

“Laurel, his death was not your fault. The agent made the choice when he planted his feet at the scene.”

If only she could believe him, maybe the blackness covering her heart would vanish. “I transferred from undercover to cryptology after Wilmington was sent to prison. Tried to put it all behind me. Thatcher Graves had been my partner before Jesse, and he suggested we work together again, but I couldn’t. I stopped sleeping around and placed my heart in a cocoon. Then I learned Miss Kathryn had dementia and her husband had shoved her into a nursing home that barely met state requirements. I’m sure his reason for not allowing me to see her was because I refused to sleep with him. Being alone at my desk was worse. So I transferred to white collar.”

She was thankful for the shadows so she couldn’t see his condemnation. “You heard it all. Junk my counselor has been trying to pry out of me. You should consider hanging a shingle, ‘Police Officer and Psychologist.’” Now for the inevitable question. “Where’s your interest in me now?”

“The same place it’s always been. You haven’t said a thing to change my mind. You heard my story, and now I’ve heard yours.”

Shock trickled through her. “Didn’t you listen?”

“I heard a story about a beautiful woman who’s smart, compassionate, and loves my gran and gramps.” His fingers brushed against her cheek, and his gaze captured hers. His lips met hers gently like she’d imagined. She wanted to stop him, but one time shouldn’t be a problem.

When the kiss ended, he drew her closer to him. “When this case is over, will you give me a chance?”

“I can’t promise.” She sensed an urgency to fall into the warmth of his words, but he deserved so much more. The sharp edges of regret cut deep, but someday the shattered pieces would all come together. At least she could cling to a dream. But not tonight. “I can help look for what might have your grandparents in danger.”