In Love and Rescue: When love is the perfect rescue... (22 page)

Confused, Lawrence’s eyebrows came together. “Husband?”

*****

Sitting across from a man who looked to be in his late twenties with a shadow on his face that had grown in way past five o’clock, Wren began to question her judgment. She was way in over her head. She wasn’t a detective. Hell, she’d just gotten into law school and was still in the middle of her fundamental classes. Even worse, Jay hadn’t been able to make the first meeting with Grandma Ruth’s law enforcement connection due to basketball practice, and Grandma Ruth couldn’t get out of a lunch date with their mother without revealing what they were up to. So, it was just Wren in a sleek black pantsuit sitting across from a man who she only knew by a first name: Phillip.

He finished the call that he was on and placed the phone back on the receiver. Then
, he rolled up his sleeves, clasped his hands on the desk in front of him, and stared directly into her eyes. Wren nervously glanced away and noticed the US Navy tattoo on his forearm, which helped her anxiety to wane some.

“Let me properly introduce myself,” he began, sticking out a hand which Wren shook as firmly as she could. “I’m Sergeant Phillip Thompson. I understand that we share a mutual friend.”

She smiled. “I guess so. I’m Ruth Ann Baker’s granddaughter. I understand that she and your grandfather used to, um, date?”

He laughed,
leaned back in his chair, and clasped his hands behind his head. As he relaxed, so did Wren.

“I can only hope my life is at least half as interesting as his when I get to that age,” he told her. “But yes, he did mention that your family was
interested in getting more information on a case involving your—”

“Sister,” Wren finished. “My older sister.” She fished a photo out of her purse. “This is her. Her name is…was…is Larke Tapley.”

Phillip pulled the photo in his direction. “Oh wow, she’s gorgeous. You look a lot like her. What did you say happened to her?”

Wren took a deep breath. “She was, well they say that she was, uh, murdered.”

Phillip’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”

She nervously squeezed her fingers. “She lives in the DC area. She was on vacation in Jamaica when they told us that she was missing. Then, within hours of them telling us that she was missing, they told us that she died in a fire at th
e hotel she was staying in. A couple days later, they told us that her case was being handled as a homicide.”

Phillip continued to stare at the picture as his mind pieced all of the information together.
“Did they say why?”

“No.”

“Were they able to recover a body?”

Wren shook her head.
“We’re getting the information a little at a time. Actually, they’re saying that she was killed by,” she glanced again at his forearm, “a former military officer.”

He not
iced her glance at his tattoo. “Unlikely, but not impossible,” he defended with a cordial smile.

Wren swallowed, her nerves again under attac
k. “His name is Desmond Harding and, trust me when I say this, I
know
that he didn’t kill her.”

She stopped when she noticed Phillip’s brows narrow.

“Did you say Desmond Harding?”

“Yes.”

“Not possible.” He shook his head and pushed the picture back towards Wren. “Are you sure that they said Desmond Harding is the one that killed her?”

He searched through his phone.

“This man?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s him. You know him?”

Again Phillip fell back in his seat. “Quite well. He owns a defense agency over on the East Coast. We served together.”

Wren was still waiting for more information. “So, why is it impossible?”

Phillip slowly shook his head. “It’s just not Desmond. Let’s just say that he would be a perfect candidate for the Secret Service. He puts others’ safety first, his life second. And, it’s not like he has to think about it. He just goes into situations like that, even if he’s known the person only a few minutes. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Confused, Wren prodded for more information. “So, are you thinking that someone else probably did it?”

Phillip paused. “First of all, why do they have him as a suspect?”

“They said that they recovered his DNA from
the crime scene.”

Phillip burst out laughing, but apologized when he noticed a flash of emotion across Wren’s face.

“I’m sorry, but even if Desmond did commit some kind of violent crime, they would never recover his DNA from the crime scene. A rookie cop wouldn’t even be that careless. Tell me more.”

Wren explained about how they claimed that Desmond was the primary suspect, as many details about the case that she knew, and even tossed in Eddie Jarvis’ escape. In their Podunk little city, she wasn’t at all surprised that Phillip hadn’t heard anything about it. Actually, she found that she preferred it this way. The odds of Phillip actually knowing who Desmond personally was were probably several million to one, so finally, things were working in her favor.

“So, this guy, Eddie, just up and disappears from transit, and no one even bats an eye?” Phillip asked. “Even if he wasn’t connected to your sister’s case, he’s still a fugitive. You would expect some buzz about that.”

She fought to contain her excitement. “Yes, I thought the same thing.”

“Or at least an attempt to get you guys some form of protective detail,” he continued. “A man that calculatedly disappears from transit has power, and a man with that much power doesn’t want it taken away from him. So, as soon as he’s out, he’s going to go after the person who tried. That makes your family a target, Wren.”

Her heart thudded. “So, what should we do?”

He stood and moved to a filing cabinet in the far corner of the room. “First, I’m going to see if I can get in contact with an old friend of ours, Doug Casey. He’s actually an FBI liaison now, does some work with homeland security, and one of the best when it comes to Intel. You can ask this guy anything and he’ll have an answer for you. I haven’t talked to Desmond in a few years, but he and Doug were very close. Like brothers. If anyone knows what Desmond’s up to, it’ll be Doug.”

He pulled out a tattered manila folder. “Do you live alone or with your parents, Wren?”

“Alone,” she answered.

“Can we change that?” His eyes landed on her. “Do you think that you could move back in them for a little while, or is it too far out of your way?”

“Do you really think—?”

“Yes,” Phillip answered before she could finish. “I really think that’s it’s better for us to be more cautious than naïve. I’ve seen some things in my lifetime that you wouldn’t believe even if I told you, so I always err on the side of caution. Always.”

Noticing the conviction in his eyes, she didn’t question him any further.

“That’s the first thing that I need for you to do,” he elaborated. “Pack up the things you need and stay with your parents for a while. I’d like for you to have that done before the weekend is over.”

She agreed.

“I’m going to send someone over to help you,” he
added. “I’m also going to need to have a talk with your folks to get their consent to have someone sit on their house.”

There was still one nagging question that Wren wished she didn’t have to ask, but knew that she wouldn’t sleep until she did.

“Sergeant Thompson?”

“Phillip,” he corrected.

“Phillip. I know that this might be an unusual question, but why do you believe me? Everything I’m bringing you is circumstantial and even a bit far-fetched. What makes you believe me?”

He smiled. “Honestly, when my
grandfather told me what you guys needed help with, I was prepared to do my best to help you work through your sister’s death. To help you cope and deal with the different stages of grief. But, like I told you, I’ve seen a ton of things in my brief lifetime. I’ve seen brothers betray brothers, sisters betray sisters, mothers kill their own children, and a government turn its back on its own people. When you tell me that a convicted murderer just disappears from lockup and no one bats an eye, that catches my attention. When you tell me that the same murderer has not yet been publicly connected to a disappearance involving the attorney who put him away,
that
catches my attention. And when you tell me that one of my brothers, one of the best of us who has historically put his life on the line for others, ups and kills a young woman for absolutely no reason, I call a foul. Trust me, even if I end up thigh deep in it, I’ll wade through the bullshit until I find the answer I’m looking for. That’s why I believe you.”

Her face brightened and tears sprang forth in her eyes.
“I really appreciate that, Phillip.”

“It’
s no problem, Wren.”

She found that she enjoyed
the sound of her name rolling off of his tongue. “There’s one more thing, Phillip. Another reason why I’m pretty sure Desmond didn’t kill my sister.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because Desmond is my sister’s husband.”

She pulled up
Desmond and Larke’s wedding picture on her phone. Phillip took the phone and studied the photo for a moment, then shook his head.

“We’ve got a lot of wading to do, Wren.”

Chapter Ten

The minute he heard the police sirens, Desmond knew that he and Larke had been made. He returned to the window to find police cars quickly approaching with their sirens blaring, and a few already surrounding the ground floor. Officers hopped from the vehicles and swarmed into the lobby. Meanwhile, he had yet to formulate a plan, and Larke was still in the shower.

“Larke, we have to move,
” he called, bounding over to the door. The shower ran for a few more seconds before the bathroom went silent.

“What?”

“The police are here.”

Larke wrapped a towel around her body and opened the door. “What? How?”

He slipped inside the bathroom, grabbed her clothes, and quickly helped her pull them on.

“I don’t know how, but they know I’m here.”

As she was fastening the button on her jeans, they heard banging on the front door. “It’s Agent Campbell,” a voice boomed from the other side. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few more questions Ms. Clayton.”

Desmond instinctively put an arm across Larke’s body. Unfortunately, his mind was blank. He’d thought for sure that they’d at least have a couple of hours to regroup before meeting up with Lawrence, but something had happened. Somehow, they’d figured out that Larke wasn’t who she said she was, and that he was in the hotel. That, he hadn’t planned on happening so soon.

Larke moved around his arm to face him. “Des, I can handle this part. I’ll just go talk to him and—”

“No, Larke,” he cut her off. “Just let me think. I’ll find a way for us to get out of here. There’s no guarantee that he won’t shoot first and ask questions later.”

His nerve shook slightly when an image of a bullet piercing her flesh ran across his mind, but before he had the chance to say another word, she slipped out of the bathroom door. He reached for her hand but she was already standing at front door where another series of hard knocks resounded.

“I’m here,” she yelled.

Desmond could only stare at her in disbelief. Didn’t she hear a word that he’d just said? Did she not realize just how important she was to him?

“Ms. Clayton,” Lawrence’s voice yelled. “I just would like to have a word with you. You may be in danger and not even know it.”

Even though Desmond was advising her not to respond, Larke knew that they had no choice. There was no way out.

“Ok,” she yelled back. “But I’ll only talk to you, Agent Campbell.”

A series of light footsteps retreated down the hall.

“
I want you to let me in so we can talk,” he responded.

Larke hesitated. “You,” she glanced at Desmond, “you might have Desmond
Harding with you.”

On the other side of the door, Lawrence waved his hand to tell his backup to move farther down the hallway. “What do you mean?”

Larke mustered emotion in her voice. “I see the police cars. He’s here, isn’t he?”

Lawrence’s brows wrinkled. “Let’s not play this game, Stacy. Witnesses place a man with you at the airport and there was no man with you when we spoke downstairs. You told me that you were here alone.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t lie to you. I am alone. And don’t call me that. My name is not Stacy.”

She placed a hand on the knob and Desmond felt his stomach lurch as he heard it turn. Lawrence cautiously took a few steps back and retrieved the gun from its holster. He didn’t want to hurt her because she probably had vital information about Desmond’s whereabouts, but there was no way to know if she was armed at that point. 

“Then what is it?” he asked. “What’s your name?”