No One Left to Tell (10 page)

I should have killed him six years ago
. But it would have raised too many of the wrong eyebrows, so he’d let the bar owner live. He looked up at Denny’s swinging body with contempt. The prick just had to go and bang Muñoz’s woman.

Of course that stupidity was completely topped by his keeping photographs of the payoff. Photographs, for God’s sake.

Denny had denied it. Vociferously at first. Not so vociferously after a few rounds of ‘encouragement’. Then he’d spilled it. He’d hidden a security camera behind the bar that night.
The night I paid him to keep his damn mouth shut
.

Denny had actually thought he could use them.
Against me
. As insurance.
Idiot
.

And had Elena seen these photographs? Oh no, Denny had whined. But of course she had. That she’d seen something important didn’t take a genius to ascertain. Denny had shot her, but not well enough. He’d had to call Silas for backup.

He still wasn’t sure what to do about Silas. Silas had lied to him. That couldn’t be condoned. But . . . Silas had his skills.
I’ll have to think on that for a while
.

Now, he had bigger issues to consider. Not only had Elena Muñoz seen Denny’s pics, she’d downloaded them. Apparently Denny didn’t realize his computer recorded every access and every save of every file. Because Denny was a goddamn idiot.

Elena had walked away with damaging pictures.
Of me. Giving money to him
. He looked up at Denny’s swinging body, fury bubbling within him.
Luckily I was smart enough to disguise myself that night or Denny would have met with a much crueler fate
.

He went downstairs to the bar and pried open the cash register. The cash held within wasn’t enough to gas his car for a week, but it would look like a robbery. He surveyed the mess behind the bar, broken glass and rivers of booze. He’d been looking for more cameras and had found them. The camera feeds all went to Denny’s laptop, which he’d also taken.
Asshole. Keeping insurance on me
.

As a final note, he opened the front door a crack, then left through the back. Teens would be all over this place like jackals on a carcass. They’d further wreck the joint and steal everything that wasn’t tied down. Eventually somebody would find Denny swinging. Any cops suspecting foul play would have to sort through a lot of debris.

Good riddance, Denny
. He slid Denny’s laptop into his backpack. No police would find the pictures in a search. But the pictures were out there, somewhere. He needed to assume they would be found. People would know Sandoval and Muñoz’s friend had lied under oath. Muñoz would probably be freed, eventually.

Luckily he’d always had a backup plan. Convicting Ramon Muñoz had never been a done deal.

His cell phone rang as he started his car, the one number he always answered on the first ring. ‘Good morning,’ he said.

‘I saw the news. What did the Muñoz woman know?’

He wanted to snarl at the note of rebuke but did not. ‘I fixed it. Don’t worry.’

‘That’s what you always say. What did you do to fix this?’

‘The bar owner is dead.’

‘What about Ramon’s friend?’

‘He’ll be taken care of too.’

‘No loose ends?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Good. And speaking of loose ends, I found the last one.’

The hairs rose on the back of his neck. ‘What do you mean? Where?’

‘She was gone for years. Moved out of the country. Now she’s back.’

He swallowed hard. Nothing good would come of this. ‘What do you plan?’

‘To kill her, like all the others. Then there will be no loose ends. No one left to tell.’

‘Look,’ he hedged. ‘Maybe it would be better to leave that alone for a little while. At least until all this Elena Muñoz hoopla dies down.’

‘But I’ve already started. I can’t back away now.’

‘Of course you can,’ he snapped and instantly regretted it.

The voice on the other end grew cold. ‘You snip your loose ends and I’ll snip mine. Call me when you’ve taken care of everything.’

The phone clicked. ‘Dammit,’ he muttered. But there was nothing to do about that now. For now he’d follow instructions and make sure his loose ends were snipped.

Tuesday, April 5, 1.20
P.M
.

Grayson Smith hadn’t left her. He’d held her hand the whole way to the hospital. Had stood next to her when a police officer took her statement, and again when Detective Perkins showed up to take her statement a second time.

Now he stood in the doorway of the little ER room in which they’d placed her, his arms crossed over his chest, filling the space.
Guarding me
.

‘Just like Peabody,’ Paige murmured.

She’d been instructed to stay still until her throat could be stitched. But even lying flat on her back she could easily see him. He was a big guy, tall and broad.

The man who’d attacked her had been even bigger.
What would I have done had Grayson Smith not come along when he did? I’d be dead
. Except that he hadn’t just ‘come along’. He’d followed her and she wasn’t sure how to process that. Yet.

‘Who is Peabody?’ Grayson asked.

‘My dog.’

His brows lifted. ‘Why am I like your dog?’

‘He stands between me and the world.’

His face settled, satisfied at her answer.
He stroked my hair. My face. Cradled my head. Held my hand. Calmed me
. She wanted to trust him.

Well, he did save your life
. That racked up major brownie points right there.

‘Why does your dog guard you?’ he asked.

‘Long story.’ One she did not want to retell.

His eyes narrowed in speculation. ‘All right. Then why do you hate hospitals?’

‘Same reason,’ she said quietly but firmly.

‘Excuse me.’ It was a woman’s voice, unflurried and familiar. Grayson stepped aside to let Dr Burke through. Burke gave Paige a wry look. ‘You’re a busy girl today.’

Paige grimaced. ‘I just wanted to walk my damn dog this morning and take a nap.’

Burke sat on a low stool and rolled it to the edge of the bed before looking over her shoulder. ‘That’s not the same guy you were with this morning. Who is this one?’

‘Grayson Smith,’ Paige said, noting Grayson’s jaw go tight. ‘He’s a prosecutor.’

‘He’s cute,’ Burke said with a wink. ‘You planning to keep them both?’

Paige laughed, then sucked in a pained breath when Burke removed the temporary dressing. ‘Ow. You did that on purpose.’

‘You can’t laugh and cry at once,’ she said. ‘I’ll do a local, but it’s still gonna hurt.’

Paige controlled her anxiety. Until Burke produced a syringe with a needle that looked about fourteen inches long. ‘I don’t want . . . I . . . I need to go.’ She tried to sit up.

Burke gently pushed her down to the bed. ‘Stay put, Ninja Girl. It’s going to pinch.’

‘Look at me,’ Grayson said. He crouched by her side, his hand out. His eyes were steady, his face calm. ‘Squeeze as hard as you need to.’

Paige focused on his eyes, greener under the fluorescent light of the ER than they’d been in the garage when he’d leaned close to ask her about Elena Muñoz. A thought nagged at her mind, but scattered when Burke’s syringe pierced her skin. She took Grayson’s hand and tried not to cry. It wasn’t the pain. It wasn’t.

It was fear. And she hated to be afraid. She bit back a whimper.
Don’t cry
.

‘I know,’ he murmured. ‘It’ll be over soon. Just hold on to me. And breathe.’

Paige obeyed, closing her eyes and squeezing Grayson’s hand as hard as she could. ‘Did you get suspended?’ she asked Burke, her teeth clenched.

‘Yep,’ Burke said. ‘After this shift I am in the proverbial doghouse until Thursday morning.’ Her voice was conversationally chipper, but Paige felt horrible.

‘I’m sorry. I should have answered when the other EMT called to me this morning.’

‘You were in shock, so cut yourself some slack, Ninja Girl.’

‘Stop
calling
me that,’ Paige gritted. ‘
Ow
. Are you almost finished?’

‘Nope,’ Burke said cheerfully. ‘Only halfway done.’

‘Paige,’ Grayson said soothingly. ‘Look at me. Where do you come from?’

‘Minne
so
ta.’ Paige ground out the word, knowing he was trying to get her mind off the pain and snooping at the same time. She had to hand it to him. The man was good. Really good. She had to be killing his hand right now, but he hadn’t complained.

‘Peabody, too?’ he asked.

‘Yes. He was a gift from my friend. She trains dogs. Names them all after—’ She grunted when Burke pulled too hard. ‘Dammit, that
hurt
.’

‘Sorry,’ Burke said mildly. ‘I did tell you that it would.’

‘So,’ Grayson said smoothly, ‘your friend names the dogs after . . .?’

‘After cartoon characters. Peabody’s from
Mr Peabody and Sherman
.’

‘I loved that cartoon,’ Burke said. ‘Bullwinkle and Rocky and Boris and Natasha.’

‘Why did your friend give you a dog?’ Grayson persisted.

Paige took a moment to choose an answer that would satisfy him. ‘She thought I needed some company.’

‘Because of last summer?’ Burke asked, and from the corner of her eye Paige saw the doctor bite her lip, wincing her regret at having asked. ‘Sorry.’

‘How did you know?’ Paige asked.

‘I looked you up after this morning,’ Burke said. ‘It wasn’t hard to find. That you’d want a protection dog is perfectly understandable under the circumstances.’

‘So tell me the story,’ Grayson said. ‘Since it was so easy to find.’

Paige muttered a curse. ‘I was shot last summer, okay?’

There was a long moment of silence as Burke continued to stitch.

‘And?’ Grayson finally asked, very quietly.

‘Her friend was killed,’ Burke said, just as quietly, and Paige closed her eyes again, the pain from the needle completely overshadowed by the tightness in her chest.

Grayson smoothed a lock of hair from her forehead and Paige felt her throat closing again. She could deal with fear, she could deal with physical pain. But she didn’t do well with tenderness.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘What was her name?’

‘Thea,’ Paige said roughly. ‘I can’t do this now. I can’t breathe.’

‘What’s safe?’ he asked. ‘Baseball? Hockey? Championship poker?’

‘It’s okay,’ Burke said. ‘I’m done. I read about your work in Minnesota. About your friend. I admire what you did, last summer and this morning.’

Paige pushed the image of Thea to the corner of her mind. She’d think about her friend later.
Not now, not here
. She was feeling dangerously close to tears.
I can’t break down
. ‘I didn’t do anything this morning.’
Or last summer. That was the problem
.

‘Sure you did,’ Grayson said gruffly. ‘Most people would have run away from a bullet-riddled vehicle. You ran toward it, to help another person. That’s a lot.’

‘It is.’ Burke taped a bandage over the stitches. ‘Try not to get yourself attacked again.’

‘I’ll do my very best,’ Paige said dryly. ‘Can I sit up now?’

‘Sure. I’ll leave care instructions with the nurse.’ Burke turned to go, then paused. ‘If you want to teach again, call me. I have some contacts here who’d be interested in working with you.’ With a wave she was gone, leaving Paige and Grayson alone.

‘What did she mean?’ he asked.

He still held her hand and Paige still grasped it too hard. She loosened her grip, but he didn’t let go. ‘Burke must work with abused women,’ she said.

‘Which means you did, too,’ he said, and she lifted a shoulder.

‘Among others.’ She sat up, swallowed against a sudden rush of lightheadedness, then dropped her voice so that only he could hear. ‘You followed me. Why?’

His eyes shuttered and carefully he released her hand. ‘You wanted me to see you, both inside and outside the courtroom. You might as well have dropped breadcrumbs.’

‘Do you follow every woman who watches you in the courtroom?’

‘Only the ones who witnessed a murder hours before.’ His already-stubbled jaw scratched her face as he leaned close to whisper in her ear. ‘What did Elena claim to have found?’

‘She didn’t
claim
it,’ she whispered back fiercely. ‘She
had
it. I’ve seen it. Ramon couldn’t have killed Crystal Jones. His friend lied. The bar owner lied. Somebody didn’t want Elena to tell. But she told me.’ She touched her throat. ‘And here we are.’

He looked away, his expression grim. ‘I’ll take you home. Then we can talk.’

Tuesday, April 5, 2.05
P.M
.

Grayson and Paige had just entered the hospital lobby when they saw two women and a man standing outside, the woman giving one of the men a piece of her mind.

Paige came to an abrupt halt. ‘Ah, hell. This day just keeps sucking even louder.’

‘That’s Morton and Bashears. You know the other guy?’

‘My partner, Clay Maynard.’

‘Morton seems to be very unhappy with your partner.’

‘They have history. Morton’s partner was shot last year. A guy named Skinner.’

A puzzle piece fell into place. ‘I thought I’d heard Maynard’s name before. He was involved in a case last year – a killer who left corpses for the ME. Maynard’s partner was a victim. What was her name?’

‘Nicki Fields. Clay helped the detectives ID the killer, but not before Detective Morton’s partner was shot and almost killed. I guess Morton is unloading baggage.’

‘The detective that led that case is a friend of mine.’ He remembered Stevie’s terror when Cordelia was targeted. ‘When her child was threatened, Maynard told her what he knew.’

Paige gave him a quick, odd glance. ‘Morton and Bashears came to see me this morning. Because I’m Clay’s partner, she distrusts me. Because she was primary on Ramon Muñoz’s case, I distrust her.’

The words she’d whispered in the parking garage had been circling in his mind.
Elena said the cops did this to her
. Grayson shook his head hard. ‘No way. I’ve known Liz Morton for years. She’s a good cop. And Bashears has got every decoration there is.’