Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (14 page)

The police had been willing to discuss the situation in an office instead of a small, stuffy interrogation room only because Stone had flashed his badge.

He’d waited close to thirty minutes before Officer Vargas walked in. He was Hispanic, pockmarked, and thin to the point of being anorexic.

Stone was hurting, irritated, and had run out of patience. “Where’s Ms. Daniels?”

He was pissed they’d separated them. She didn’t need this hassle dumped on her.

“Somewhere safe.” Vargas hoisted up his belt. He reminded Stone of the cop in Lake City, only Vargas’ pants threatened to slip off his hips if he didn’t put another notch in the leather.

Stone had done interrogations and used evasive sarcasm as a way to get the informant to tell the truth. The cop’s tactic wouldn’t work with him. “I’m not sure what more I can tell you.” He kept his voice non-threatening, hoping Vargas would see his side.

“Other than you went to talk to some witness, and when you were knocking on her door, someone ran into her. You called 9-1-1 and left.”

“There’s no crime in that.”

“It is if you hit the victim and the victim is dead.”

A giant claw grabbed his gut. “Ashley Wood didn’t make it?” Why was this happening? How could his timing be so far off?

“I’m afraid not.” Any residual sarcasm was replaced with sincerity.

Stone swallowed to keep the bile from rising up his craw. “What evidence do you have that my car hit hers?” Once a cop, always a cop, even if he now worked for the FBI.

Vargas skimmed the two-page report. “Your front end is banged up.”

Stone had figured that was his only evidence and leaned back in his chair. The sooner he got this bozo to understand the circumstances, the sooner he’d get to take Susan out of here. She needed medical attention along with a good night’s sleep.

“I already explained how that happened. Can’t you take paint samples to see that my fender was dented by a black car, not a blue one? And the driver’s side of my rear bumper was smashed by a red truck?”

Only problem was that the test could take weeks, and more than likely, the Atlanta crime lab had more important work to do than test paint chips.

“Your car is being impounded as we speak. Your luck sucks. If I were you, I wouldn’t drive for a while.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

Vargas cleared his throat. “Once we’re convinced what you say is true, we’ll release your car back to you.”

He had to be kidding. “That could take weeks. Ashley Wood as well as Taylor Daniels are, or were, under the protection of the FBI. Call my boss. He’ll verify that fact.”

Stone debated using Susan’s real name, but at this point, no one could be trusted. He didn’t like Harrison finding out about this debacle, but he didn’t see any way out of this dilemma.

“I already contacted the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. They’re looking into your claim.”

A knock sounded on the door and a young woman poked her head in the office. “A detective Brad Carroll, from the GBI, is here to see you.”

Officer Vargas smiled. “That was fast. We’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough.”

A tall, beefy man with a shaved head strode in. He flashed a badge and shook Vargas’ hand.

He glanced at Stone. “I heard we had a little incident here involving someone in the program.”

Stone didn’t appreciate his arrogant attitude. “Hardly a little incident. Did you get in contact with Richard Thomason of the FBI in Quantico?” Sometimes it paid to name-drop.

“Sure did. He said he never heard of Ashley Wood, Taylor Daniels, or Stone Watson.”

Every muscle tensed. Stone refrained from slamming his fist against the table. “Do I get my one phone call?” Stone ground his teeth together. He wasn’t under arrest, but a call was needed.

“Of course.” Vargas pointed to his phone.

He couldn’t count on Harrison backing him, but Tom would cover his back.

He dialed Tom’s cell. Five rings, six rings.
Pick up, dammit.

* * * *

Tom Traynor and Harrison Lowry burst into Richard’s office. From the speed with which they rushed in, and the pissed-off look on their faces, Richard knew his grip on things might slip further.

“What’s wrong?” He painted on his best face of concern.

Harrison stepped forward. “You know damn well what’s wrong. Why did you deny knowing Stone?”

He’d already prepared his answer, one that held a lot of truth. “I wanted to protect him.”

Harrison stiffened. “Just tell me how denying you know who Stone is, helps him in any way.”

“The Georgia cop told me Ashley Wood was dead, killed in a hit and run. The MO fit juror number five’s MO. It couldn’t have been an accident. I figure the longer I keep Stone and Susan at the police station, the better.”

“That’s bullshit.” Tom, who was usually quiet, spoke with a wealth of venom.

“Just exactly what do you expect me to do?” Thomason put all acting aside. If these two could figure out a way to get him and Stone out of the mess, he’d be ecstatic. He had to keep his wife and two children safe.

Harrison locked gazes with him. “Call the cops back and tell them to release Stone. Have Stone get back to DC, ASAP. We have to find a better way to protect Ms. Chapman.”

Too bad Harrison didn’t understood why his plan wouldn’t work. To enlighten him, however, would cost him his job and his freedom. “If you insist.”

Richard would be forced to tell his blackmailer that Ms. Chapman and Watson were on their way back here. Their lives would end too soon. And he liked Stone and wanted to protect him.

He expected the Stone-support team to nod and disappear. They didn’t. Fine. It would be their fault their prize prosecutor died, not his.

The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. His job was to keep people safe, and yet he couldn’t even protect his own family from blackmailing monsters. If only his wife wasn’t bedridden, he’d put them some place where no one could find them.

Harrison and Tom stepped toward him. He picked up the phone and pushed redial. When he reached the Georgia cop, Richard claimed he wanted to get to a secure line before admitting he knew Stone Watson and the girl.

“We have a few more questions for them,” the Atlanta cop said. “Then we’ll release them.”

“Excellent. Do me a favor.”

“Sir?”

Richard liked the sound of the respect in the man’s voice. “I haven’t been able to contact Detective Watson. Tell him he’s to return to DC. Pronto.”

“Will do.”

Richard swallowed hard and hung up. He stared at Harrison Lowry. “Happy?”

“Tickled pink.” Harrison turned his sourpuss ass around and left.

Tom unclenched his fists. “What happened to the bodyguard you sent down to protect Ashley Woods?”

Richard pretended to flip through a file. “I’ll check that out. He should have been there by now. Of course, he’ll have to return as soon as he arrives, now.”

Tom stomped out.

Richard prayed he’d done the right thing.

* * * *

Susan sat alone in a small, windowless room waiting for word about what they were going to do with both of them. No one had come to check on her for three hours. Her butt had nearly fallen asleep from the hard chairs, and she was losing patience fast. What could possibly be holding them up? Surely they weren’t going to arrest Stone. She’d been the one driving, not him. Not having a driver’s license was bad, but Stone would pay the fine, whatever it was.

A lead ball rattled in the bottom of her belly. Had Stone’s brain swelled and he’d shown some signs of disorientation? Had they taken him to the hospital and didn’t want to tell her?

She needed him to be safe. Funny, just a day or two ago, she couldn’t wait to get away from him. The jurors’ deaths had brought them together.

Though the room was no more than ten feet by ten feet, she had to pace, had to do something. After she’d sat for those few hours after the accident, her muscles had bunched and tightened. Her knee had swollen, which made walking painful but sitting was worse.

She stood. When she took a step, sharp pains stabbed her chest and her knee, but she might find some relief if she could just get the blood to flow again.

She tried to do a few exercises to loosen her muscles, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her mind wandered back to Ashley Wood and to who was driving the SUV. Stone had said a black SUV had followed them for a short while in Lake City. There was no way the driver could know where they would be headed next, unless they, too, had the addresses of the jurors.

That was it. Whoever was killing these people was heading north, picking off the jurors one by one. She prayed the other jurors out west were safe. Soon they’d come after her. Though why she wasn’t dead already when he’d had two chances to kill her was anyone’s guess. Maybe she had a role to play. Only what could it be?

She leaned on the chair to steady herself from the terrible thoughts. Her stomach grumbled, and she had to go to the bathroom really badly.

Susan pounded on the door. They couldn’t ignore her forever, goddammit.

The door opened about ten minutes later. “Come with me, Ms. Daniels.”

“About time. I need to use the bathroom.”

The guard nodded when they got to the bathrooms. “I’ll wait outside.”

The small bathroom was clean, but the floors were stained with dirt, and the grout needed a good scrubbing. She used the toilet, washed her face and hands and stepped back into the corridor. In the hours she’d been detained, the sun had set and the sky had turned a purplish blue. Now they wouldn’t be getting on the road until tomorrow, which would further hinder notifying the next juror.

When the guard and she rounded the corner, Stone was standing in the middle of the corridor, his shoulders tense and his lips drawn back. The relief forced out a breath. His skin was pale and his head wound was oozing. He looked a mess, but she didn’t look much better.

When he noticed her, he smiled, which transformed his face from tired to handsome, and her heart skipped a beat. For an insane moment, she wanted to throw herself in his arms, but for many reasons, she refrained.

Captain Vargas, or whatever his designation was, turned to her. “You two are free to go. From the impact on Ms. Wood’s car, we realized your vehicle couldn’t have done the damage. The truck that hit her had a much higher bumper than your rental car.”

Stone narrowed his eyes. “And our car? Will you release it?”

“I’m afraid it can’t be driven. You two were lucky you got as far as you did. The front end was crushed into the engine and the axle is nearly cracked in two. I’m sorry. I’ll be happy to have one of my men drive you to a hotel.”

It was the least they could do. Now they’d have to rent another car and find another hotel room, all the while using a traceable credit card. Christ. They might as well go on the nightly news and give the killer their location.

“Fine.” His sharp tone implied losing the vehicle was anything but okay.

Stone slid next to her and slipped an arm around her shoulder, acting as if they were a single unit. She soaked in the comforting action.

As they stepped outside the police station, the cold air slapped her in the face. Even with her sweatshirt on, she shivered. Stone only had on the shirt she’d handed him in the car. Poor man must be freezing, but he didn’t act as if the weather affected him.

She turned to the officer. “What about our luggage we left in the trunk?” They needed warmer clothes.

“We’ve got it for you.”

She leaned into Stone. “Can’t your people in Virginia have someone deliver another car? Or help us out?”

“I don’t think I’m their favorite son. Besides, I think our killer has a direct line to someone in the office.”

Her hands fisted. “Who do you think it is?”

“I wish I knew.”

From the rigid set of his jaw, she understood he wouldn’t elaborate. Pure speculation wasn’t his MO.

“Do you think we can get another rental tonight?”

“I can call from the hotel, but I don’t expect it’ll be easy with our track record.”

The Georgia policeman helped them into the back seat of the cruiser and took off for downtown. The traffic thickened, then thinned as they wound their way through the city. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

“The Hyatt in downtown Atlanta.” Stone turned to face her and kept his voice low. “The security will be tighter in a high rise than if we’re in a motel in the suburbs.

As they pulled to the curb in front of the hotel, the cop apologized for the inconvenience. “I almost forgot, Agent Watson. Captain Vargas wanted me to tell you that your boss wants you to call him.”

His jaw tightened. “Thanks.”

When they checked in, Stone asked for a room above the tenth floor and with two beds. She appreciated his request. She’d never get to sleep if they shared the bed even though she was having a hard time staying awake.

Once they got into the room, he put her suitcase on the first bed.

She dragged down the comforter and collapsed on top. “Why did you want the tenth floor or higher?” Being in prosecutor mode gave her a better sense of control.