The Devil She Knew (22 page)

“She knew, honey, she knew. She cared about you too, giving you all those lifts home and watching out for you. She had your back from the first time I saw you.”

“She cared about you too, you know.”

He smiled. “In her own way, I think she did. I liked her, too,” Clay said softly.

“She told me once that she thought if she called you for help, you’d be there for her.”

This time, the corners of his mouth dipped in a sad smile. “She was right, I would have been there for her. I’m glad she knew that.”

About five minutes passed in silence before Cassidy spoke again. “It’s one more reason why I want to do this, Clay, why I want to testify and put Tony DelMorrie behind bars where he belongs. I owe it to Amber.”

“Me too, honey, me too.”

Thankfully, Clay turned the conversation and Cassidy’s mood lightened over the next six hours as they chatted about music, old television shows, favorite foods, and books. He entertained her with stories about growing up with Maggie, and she in turn told him about her childhood. Learning that she was a CPA on the path to make partner surprised him as did the information that she’d been pretty well off, too, until she fell under the spell of the guy she followed to Arizona. They avoided discussing Jill Diamond’s murder and what sent Cassidy to the streets, just as they didn’t discuss their relationship, whatever it was.

“What exactly are the travel plans?”

Clay shrugged. “We’re winging it. Why?”

“I live out of this duffel bag. Laundromats are my friend. I’ll need one soon.”

Clay’s brow furrowed. “That’s probably out of the question. Don’t worry, we’ll figure out something.”

They arrived at a small hotel one block off the main interstate in Indianapolis shortly after noon. Clay declared he was pleased with the time they’d made and complimented her on how well she traveled. She’d go anywhere with him, she wanted to reply, but she thought better. He switched off the ignition and turned to her.

“I need you to go along with whatever I say or do, okay? No questions, no volunteering information.” She nodded.

He reached for her hand as they walked through the parking lot to the lobby and her heartbeat quickened. She was grateful the oversized eyeglasses and bangs hid her eyebrows, which catapulted when she heard Clay register Mr. and Mrs. Kinge and produced valid driver’s licenses for both of them. He handed her a duplicate of her Arizona license, which now identified her as Eliza Kinge.

She didn’t speak until they stood inside the room, eyeing the king-sized bed. “We’re sharing a room?”

Clay deposited their bags in the corner, carried the briefcase to the desk, and removed a handgun, placing it on the nightstand to his left.

“One room is safer and more cost effective. Are you uncomfortable doing that?”

“No, it’s just, um, all this one-on-one time with you has me a little confused, I guess.”

He pulled a pillow from underneath the comforter. “There isn’t anything to be confused about. Don’t over think it. I’m pretty tired so, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a nap for an hour or so. You’ll have to stay here, I’m afraid, but if you keep the sound low, the television won’t bother me.” He kicked off his shoes and stretched out across the comforter, bunching the pillow beneath his head. Within seconds, she was listening to soft snores and rhythmic breathing.

Cassidy retrieved the remote control and climbed onto the bed beside Clay, propping up her pillows for support. His face was softer in sleep, the physical stiffness emanating from him during the car ride gone. Maybe, when all this was over, he’d relax again with her and they could start over. She released the thought as quickly as she entertained it. She was his current police assignment, a fugitive he was delivering to the authorities and nothing more. He’d just said as much. There was no sense pretending otherwise.

• • •

Clay slowly emerged from the fogginess of sleep, blinking as he focused on unfamiliar surroundings. The television droned low and Cassidy sat propped against the bed board, her head drooped onto her chest. Her slow breathing was soothing, much like when he cradled a sleeping Jack on his shoulder. She’d removed the wig and glasses which, to him, signified her intentions to stay. This woman was following him blindly, agreeing to do whatever he asked without question, and trusting him to keep her safe from death. She literally had no one to turn to except him.

Sometime during their interstate ride, he’d forgiven her for running out on him, even acquiescing that her reasoning might be valid — at least in her mind. Maybe it was the interest she showed in his childhood and subsequent police life, or the way she threw her head back and laughed at his stories, or the sadness in her voice when she recounted her mother’s life and death and mourned for Amber. At every turn, it seemed, she’d had a mountain to climb and she’d done it mostly alone. At some point in their lengthy conversation, he became certain she wouldn’t run again, would never lie to him, and would probably die for him. In return, he wanted to protect this woman from all that was evil and when this was over, he might ask for a second chance at a relationship with her. All the basics were there: trust, honesty and mutual attraction. Now all they needed was time.

He tried to ease up without waking her but the minute he moved, her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, raising her hand to the back of her neck to massage the stiffened muscles. “Feel better?”

He nodded. “You?”

“A little,” she grimaced. He scooted closer.

“Turn your back to me. Let me help.” Gently, he began massaging her shoulders, running his thumbs along her neck, pressing into knotted muscles while relishing in the silkiness of her skin. She groaned, piquing his desire. He leaned toward her, resting his forehead on the back of her head.

“I’m sorry, Clay,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.” The pulse in her neck thumped beneath his fingertips.

Eyes closed, he whispered into her hair. “I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t intend to.” Abruptly, he released her shoulders and swung his feet off the other side of the bed, ignoring the liquid eyes she turned on him.

“Right now, I’m a cop and you are my assignment. There is police protocol to follow. I have to keep my head clear and keep my focus on that.” He reached for his briefcase.

“But we’re going to sleep together?”

A slight smile turned his mouth upward. “Thousands of married couples go to bed every night together and never touch each other. I think we can handle it.”

Thoughts of sleeping beside her created butterflies in his stomach, which he mentally tamed. Cassidy stood with her hands on her hips, grinning widely.

“Tell me, Mr. I’ve-Got-to-Follow-the-Rules. Since when does police protocol allow a male officer to escort a female prisoner? That seems odd to me. Do you spend the night with all of them?”

Returning to the bed with his iPad in hand, he laughed. “Well, you’re not exactly a prisoner, remember? But no, normally you would be escorted by a female officer, and I’ve never spent the night with a prisoner of the opposite sex.”

She spread her hands wide and grinned, making it clear to him she was enjoying the contradiction of his words. “Then how is it you were approved to take me on this trip? What exactly did you tell your chief?”

Slow heat crept over his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “That’s classified information. Let’s just say this is a special assignment involving special circumstances. Would you rather I call in a woman to escort you? I can, you know.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’d leave my safety to strangers? I thought you cared about me.”

His entire face reddened. “Miss Hoake, please stop making this more difficult than it already is. I do care about you and when this is over, I’ll show you just how much. But not until it’s over, understand?” He positioned his pillows against the back of the bed and pulled her down to sit beside him, their shoulders touching.

“Now be quiet and let’s see if we can fly somewhere.”

• • •

Mittens tapped his right foot on the floor, waiting for the call to connect. Every time he called her, Lauren let the phone ring and ring before answering. What could she be so busy doing all the time that she couldn’t answer the damn phone? She’d learned quickly that he wouldn’t leave a message. Never leave a traceable trail was a rule set in stone.

Finally, she answered.

“Yeah, it’s Mittens. I’m reportin’ in.”

“And?”

“I ain’t found her yet. I been keepin’ eyes on your ex ‘cause I think he’ll lead us to her. But my source in the police station ain’t seen him either.”

“What am I paying you for?”

Her words were cold enough to freeze his ear to the receiver. “Look, things like this take time. And I’m only one guy workin’ on my own time. If you want to up the ante, I can get more men on this.”

“Money is not an issue.”

Mittens did a little dance in his seat. This bird was ripe for the plucking. She was committing a cardinal sin, thinking emotionally instead of rationally. And he could reap the benefits.

“Okay, good. You open your wallet and we can get this done faster.”

Tony DelMorrie understood now why he had capos to handle the more unsavory parts of his business dealings. He wasn’t cut out to chase people, he didn’t know the first thing about tracking someone who seemed to have totally dropped off the radar screen, and he didn’t like being pressured by a fellow paisano. He’d lucked out following Cassidy Hoake across country, mainly because he knew she was from Pittsburgh and suspected she’d head in that direction. And once he blew up her car, her only mode of affordable travel was by bus. It was easy to flash a Ulysses and ask for information. Those people who worked in bus stations didn’t lay eyes on a fifty dollar bill too often and were all too willing to earn it.

But now, he was stymied and Tanzini’s clock was ticking. Where the hell was she? He hadn’t bothered staking out the funeral of the dead girl. Hoake was too smart to show up there. He’d waited at the bus terminal after persuading the clerk to disclose her travel plans, but the Illinois-bound bus drove away without her. What was that about? She paid a hundred bucks for that ticket.

He had a meeting with Tanzini at eleven tonight and he sure as hell didn’t want to report that he hadn’t taken care of the matter. He headed to The Packing Place one more time. Maybe one of those ladies would be interested in a little cash under the counter for information.

• • •

They had time to kill until their eight o’clock flight. Clay was partially disappointed that he wouldn’t be sleeping with Cassidy and somewhat relieved that temptation was being removed from his grasp.

He cursed, disconnecting a call for the second time and dialing a third number.

“Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find Dan. Only he and the chief know where we are right now.” He paused before speaking into the phone. “It’s Clay. I need to speak with Dan Armstrong. It’s important.” He waited then spoke again, relaying their flight numbers and travel details. “Got it. I’ll text you when we are at the airport.” He disconnected the call and turned to Cassidy.

“Are you hungry? I’m sorry, I can’t take you out, but we can order something in.”

His phone rang before she could answer. Listening to his one-sided conversation sent shivers down her spine.

“Yes, Rosie … is he still there … what did you tell him … no, you did fine. I’m going to send someone over there at closing just to be safe … I appreciate it. Thanks.”

Without looking at her he redialed the phone, reaching Dan on the first try this time. Cassidy rubbed her arms to ward off the sensation of all the blood in her body draining away, leaving her feeble as she listened. A man fitting DelMorrie’s description had questioned Rosie about Cassidy’s whereabouts. Clay suggested beefed up patrols around The Packing Place.

“I agree, he wouldn’t be dumb enough to hang around there, especially since there is no indication Cassidy has been there. But at least we know he is still local and she’s a state away.” He agreed with something Dan said, said he would check in later, and disconnected the call.

Clay looked at her and smiled. “It’s all good, hon. What do you want to eat?”

• • •

Despite sitting alone in his pantry office, Mittens bobbed his head and spoke out loud. “All right. All right. We got ya.” All that attention he’d paid to that mousy clerk in the police department had paid off. The fact that Cassidy Hoake and her cop were heading west was a complication, but he was certain the boss had some cross-country contacts and the distance would add to Lauren Cestra’s tab, maybe even include a little extra for his own pocket. No one would be the wiser if he jacked up the contract amount. He dialed Lauren’s cell number.

“Yeah, it’s Mittens. I’m reportin’ in. How ya doin’?”

“I hope you have something to tell me this time,” Lauren said, dispensing with the niceties. She was all business. He liked that.

“Yeah, I do. I found her. I told you your ex would be sniffin’ around that.”

“She’s with Clay?” She sounded surprised.

“Yep. Looks like they are takin’ a little trip to the West Coast, but like I tole you when we first met, they can run but they can’t hide, if you know what I mean.”

“Clay has no connections on the West Coast. Why would they be going there?”

“Maybe they just want a little R&R together.” She didn’t get it. Her ex had obviously moved on, although Mittens couldn’t understand why. Lauren Cestra had money and looks. What more could a man want? Cassidy Hoake was like a pauper compared to Lauren.

“Are you sure your information is correct?”

“Yeah, I got a reliable source in the police department. I got the flight information and everything.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to stop her before she leaves town? I want this over with as soon as possible.” She spoke the words like a command.

“I know, but listen, this could work out better for you if somethin’ happens to her outta town. But icing this cake is gonna cost a little more now.”

“I’m not giving you one penny until I know you are going to hold up your end of the deal. And I’m through with cake metaphors. If you can’t get this done, I’ll hire someone who can.”