Hot Water (28 page)

“Hunter, why are you here?” To gloat, she imagined. But instead, he seemed upset.

“You think you’re so smart. I’m here to tell you that you won’t get away with it.”

“Get away with what?”

Hunter’s scowl turned deadly. “I can’t believe you’d stoop this low, Elizabeth. Really, just to get back at me? You couldn’t stand to see me win. Well, it’s going to cost you. Everything. Your license, this house, your pathetic new career. Kiss it all good-bye.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You think using Stillwater to do your dirty work is going to protect you or your client? Forget it. We’re going to bury you all. See you tomorrow. In court. Tell your client if she’s not there, she’s going to prison for a very long time.”

Elizabeth shook her head, trying to puzzle through what he could be talking about.

“You really expect me to buy that innocent act? Well, if you’re so innocent, call Stillwater. He’ll explain everything.” Hunter stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind him, without saying another word.

Elizabeth puzzled over his words for a few minutes, then returned to her office and tried to call Ty. No answer.

A few minutes later she heard a loud knock at the door. She rushed to the hall, wondering if Hunter had returned.

“Sheriff’s department. Open up!”

Jeremy hurried out of the kitchen, holding a wooden spoon aloft as if it would make a useful weapon. She looked outside. Two deputies and one man in a suit stood there. Not looking happy at all.

“Are they taking me back to jail?” Jeremy asked.

“No. It will be okay.” Elizabeth said the words automatically as if they were scripted. In all honesty she had no clue what had brought the police to her door. Probably something to do with whatever Hunter had been raving about.

They pounded again and she opened the door. “What can I do for you, officers?”

The man in the suit did the talking. “Do you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of David Palladino?”

“Yes, sir, I do.” To her surprise, the men all tensed, one even rested his palm on the butt of his gun. “He’s with his grandfather, Kyle Masterson.”

“No ma’am. Mr. Masterson has informed us that the juvenile in question has gone missing. He believes that he was taken by Ty Stillwater—and that it was at your behest.”

Elizabeth straightened, folding her arms across her chest as she absorbed the barrage of information. David gone? Taken by Ty? Ridiculous.

“And what proof did Mr. Masterson offer for these outrageous claims?”

“Deputy Stillwater was at the Masterson estate immediately prior to Mr. Masterson becoming aware that the juvenile was missing.”

“Hmmmm. . . .” Elizabeth stalled for time, trying to make sense of this. If Ty had David, then David was fine, but if Ty didn’t—“How long?”

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“How long between the time Deputy Stillwater was there and when Mr. Masterson notified you?”

The detective shifted uncomfortably. “Approximately three hours.”

“So, there’s a good chance Deputy Stillwater is innocent. And since I haven’t seen him since around noon, I’m not sure why you all are here instead of searching for David.”

The uniformed deputies looked away, as if studying the gingerbread on the porch.

“Ma’am,” the detective said, his voice dropping as if asking a favor. “I’m sure you understand that we would like nothing more than to clear Deputy Stillwater of these allegations. And I’m sure you also understand Mr. Masterson’s position in the community.”

“Sounds like you all are in a pickle,” she said, trying to keep the amusement from her voice. Hunter was behind this, she was certain. But why? She couldn’t see what it bought him. And why that dramatic stunt, accusing her?

“Could we search the premises, verify that the juvenile is not present?”

Elizabeth thought about it. They had no probable cause, no exigent circumstances, but allowing them to search would show good faith on her part. She stood aside and gestured for them to enter. “Certainly, gentlemen. I assume that you’ve already searched Mr. Masterson’s residence?”

“Yes, ma’am, we did.”

The two deputies strode past Jeremy and Elizabeth and split up to begin searching any nooks or crannies in which a nine-year-old in a wheelchair could be hidden. The detective stayed with Elizabeth in the front foyer.

It didn’t take the deputies long to come up empty. The detective slumped his shoulders.

“So, good night, then.” Elizabeth opened the door for them.

“Just a minute ma’am,” the detective said. “The judge asked me to call him as soon as we were done here.”

“Judge Mabry?”

“Yes. Apparently Mr. Masterson’s lawyer informed him of the juvenile’s disappearance.” He stepped out to the porch, talking into his cell, then returned a minute later. “Ma’am? The judge requests that you and Mr. Holcombe meet him at his residence to discuss this matter.” He wrote down an address and handed it to Elizabeth. She didn’t move. “Ah, I think he meant sooner rather than later, ma’am.”

“Thank you, detective. I’ll head right over.”

They left and Elizabeth closed the door, collapsing against it. David missing? AJ was going to kill her.

“What can I do?” Jeremy asked.

“Get on the phone and don’t you give up until you reach either Ty or AJ,” she told him. “As soon as you do, call me on my cell.” She glanced down at her shorts and tank top. At least she’d showered and no longer smelled of soot from the Palladinos’ fire. Well, not much, anyway. “I need to go see a judge.”

To my surprise, Liam opened the door to the police cruiser I sat in.

“How did you get out?” I asked him as he offered me his hand and helped me out.

“Come with me. We’ll take your car.” He waved to the deputies and led the way through the rain to my borrowed SUV. I wasn’t too surprised when Liam took the driver’s seat. He stared at me through the open door when I didn’t move.

“I’m not going anywhere with you until I know what’s going on,” I told him.

I wasn’t sure if he actually smiled or if it was just a trick of the light reflecting off the rain running down his face.

“Does this help?” He reached inside the slicker and pulled out a black wallet, flipped open to reveal a set of credentials. I leaned forward to read them.

“FBI?” Okay, maybe that did explain a lot—but not everything.

“That’s what it says. Hop in. Now.”

I trudged around to the passenger side, my nice leather pumps hopelessly ruined in the mud. I climbed in, and he had the car rolling before I had the door shut. He stretched his arm across my seat back, looking behind him as he quickly reversed the car’s direction.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I’m taking you to the station so we can talk.”

“I didn’t mean to kill Vincent. There was no way I could avoid—”

He shook his head and surprised me by touching my arm. “You didn’t kill Vincent. The paramedics found a gunshot wound. Said it looked close range.”

Relief that I hadn’t killed someone rushed over me. I took my first deep breath since hitting Vincent’s body. “It had to be Paul.”

“How do you know that? I didn’t put everything together until today, myself.”

“You suspected he wanted to kill Vincent?”

“No. We suspected Vincent or someone in his organization of plotting to commit an act of nuclear terrorism. Someone with computer skills was creating the false alarms at the plant and using them to attack their security system. They came damn close to penetrating it, too. Why did Paul kill Vincent?”

“He found out Vincent was a non-believer. Vincent was using his congregation to put pressure on Grandel to give him a share of Colleton Landing.”

“So it was all about money.”

“Not to Paul.” I was guessing now, but it felt right. “He really does believe.”

“That’s what makes him so dangerous.” We were making slow progress, dodging debris blown at us, with almost no visibility. Liam didn’t seem as distressed by the weather as he did by Paul being on the loose.

We rounded a bend, narrowly avoiding hitting a car stopped in the road. A downed tree blocked its path, and a man was struggling to push the tree aside enough that he could avoid getting its branches tangled in the vehicle’s undercarriage.

“Liam, that’s Vincent’s Escalade.” Of course, as soon as I said it, Paul spun around and saw us. He gave the tree one last yank, moved it just enough that he might get past it, and ran back to the Escalade.

Liam pulled a gun from beneath his raincoat and opened his door. “Wait here.”

“Shouldn’t you call for backup?” Too late; he was gone.

Paul had made it to the Escalade’s driver’s door and was half inside. No way I was going to sit helpless, watching. I slid over to the driver’s seat, hunched over and watching through the space between the rim of the steering wheel and the top of the dash. Not that I could see much in the blinding rain, even with the wiper blades going full tilt.

A flash of light came, aimed right at me. Then I heard the sound of a shot. And another, not as loud as the first. I craned forward, trying to see if Liam needed my help or if I should try to escape or what the hell was going on. Couldn’t make out anything helpful. Finally I rolled down the window and looked out without exposing too much of my body.

“Stop where you are!” Paul’s voice rang through the night. He held a pump-action shotgun in one hand and a small, bright green object in the other. “I can blow it anytime I want!”

I ducked as he shot in my direction. The SUV shook but the engine never faltered. The Escalade pulled away, sending a spray of mud and water cascading behind it.

I ran out into the rain. Liam lay in the road, his gun clenched in his hand. He pushed himself up to sitting, and by the time I’d reached him he was talking on a cell phone.

“I’m okay,” he gasped. His color sure didn’t make it seem that way. “Got my vest. He’s headed toward the plant.”

That’s when I figured out what that green object in Paul’s hand was. Morris’s Kermit. The handheld computer that he could run the entire plant with—including bypassing the security.

“I’ve got to stop him,” I told Liam. In the distance I heard sirens. Liam would soon be in good hands. But if Paul got inside the plant and locked it down, then no one would be getting out alive.

TWENTY-NINE

Paul had a good head start on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I, with Yancey’s help, had convinced Owen to invite all those people inside to weather the storm.

Safest place around.

As each mental nail of guilt hammered down, my foot lowered on the gas pedal. By the time Paul made the turn into the plant’s entrance, I had narrowed the gap between us to only a hundred feet.

He plowed through the outer security checkpoint, flinging the guard to the side. I didn’t have time to stop and check him. All I could do was hope that Paul would forget about the tram path and turn down the winding road instead.

No such luck. He sideswiped a line of cars parked in the lot, gaining me another few feet, then bounced onto the paved path. It was barely wide enough for him to squeeze past the inner perimeter—sparks flew as he scraped the metal fence pole—but he didn’t slow down.

Not enough for me to catch him, anyway. He skidded to a stop at the entrance and hopped out. A security guard ran from the checkpoint, but Paul whirled and opened up with the shotgun in one swift motion. The guard staggered and fell.

By that time, I was on his tail and was going to ram him with the SUV—couldn’t think of any other way to stop him—but he turned toward me and fired.

The windshield cracked and I ducked instinctively. My SUV hit the side of the Escalade and spun out of control. My seatbelt tugged at me as gravity tried to pull the SUV into a roll and two wheels left the pavement. I yanked the wheel hard, and the car bounced back down before sputtering to a stop.

By the time I caught my breath, Paul had yanked my door open and was aiming the shotgun at me. “Welcome to the end of the world, AJ. Come on inside.”

Judge Mabry lived in a modest two-story stone house that looked like it’d been standing since the Revolution. He opened the door himself, waving Elizabeth inside. The house behind him felt empty.