The Evasion (9 page)

“Where do we find her?”

“You’ll love this, Mr. August. Her last known address is in New York.”

Gabe squeezed his eyes closed. Those hours of sleep he’d lost last night would come in handy now. He shook it off. Caffeine—lots of it—would be his next stop. “So, we’ve got a dead end?”

“We do. Unless someone in town knows Hillary Hodges. We can show Ellie the photo coming over by email.”

“And Little Timmy. Maybe the woman who sent you the purse is Hillary, but she’s using Thelma as an alias.”

Jo smacked him on the arm, the tips of her fingers stinging his bare skin. “Yes! We should start with Timmy. Show him the photo and if he identifies her, you can do your…” she cleared her throat, threw her shoulders back, “…’you-can-go-to-prison-or-be-a-cooperating-witness’ routine.”

Gabe had to laugh. She did a hell of an impression of him.
Never admit it
. “I don’t sound like that.”

She poked him in the arm. “You did this morning, hot shot.”

A breeze blew in from the harbor sending a few strands of Jo’s hair across her face. He hooked his finger around them, dragged them back the way she liked it. “Hey, I was pissed. We’re down here, supposedly on an assignment that should have kept you out of the action, and on day one, we’re burned. If Bev or Tom knew, they’d order us back to New York.
Today
. No argument.”

“I agree. That’s why we’re not telling them. We’re close to this guy. I know it. We just have to keep working.”

Gabe glanced beyond her to the docks. Sunny day like this, the water would sparkle, reminding him of being a kid and crabbing with his father. He’d hated crabbing back then. Now? He might like to try it again. Might force him to slow down every now and again. With his job and squeezing in time with Jo, the days ran together.

Order of the day: work, go to Jo’s, have dinner, shower, collapse in bed, sleep. Next day, same thing. Not that any red-blooded male would consider it a bad routine. Not with Jo anyway. Still, it left him…unsatisfied…somehow cheated.

“We need to go on a date.”

She glanced up from studying her phone. Probably waiting for that email. “Pardon?”

“Us. We need to go on a date. All we do is work, go to your place, eat, have sex and sleep.”

“Whoa, fella.” She dropped the phone back in her pocket, stepped closer and tugged on his T-shirt. “Is this a complaint or a statement? Because it hasn’t seemed to bother you before.”

“It’s not a complaint.” He tilted his head, thought about it a second. “Maybe it is. I don’t know. I want more. It would be nice to take a weekend and go somewhere. Take day trips, I don’t know.”

Jo blinked a couple of times. He’d surprised her. Good. Sometimes she needed surprises.

“Well, Gabe Townsend, I never figured you for a romantic.”

“Neither did I. Suddenly, it’s important. I want us to slow down once in a while.

He ran a finger under her chin, back and forth, back and forth, and those beautiful eyes of hers sparked. Amazing. He dipped his head, kissed her, lingered longer than usual because, hell, they were in public and he didn’t get to do that too often. After a few long seconds, he backed away, dropped another quick kiss on her lips. “I want you to meet my parents.”

He studied her reaction, took note of the cues, the slightly raised eyebrows and barely puckered lips. “Is that a problem? Considering the whole ‘I love you’ thing?”

“No,” she said. “It’s not a problem at all. Of course, you’ll have to meet my folks too. And you might run screaming from that freak show.”

Jo’s parents were political consultants. One a democrat and one a republican. He laughed and his body went loose. “I’ll tell them I’m an independent.”

“For the love of God, don’t say that. They’ll eat you alive.”

“I have a gun.”

She snorted. “There is that.”

Another gust of wind blew her hair and he peeled the stray strands back again. “Settled then? Next week, you’ll come over and meet my folks. You’ve never been to my house. That’s nuts.”

“Yes. Next week. I’d like that.”

As a tried and true Queens boy, Gabe saw his folks once a week when he took his mom grocery shopping and they all had dinner together. If they all got lucky, maybe he’d see them a second time.

But his mom had spectacular radar. When he had a woman in his apartment, she sensed it and hoofed up three flights of stairs, making up some bogus excuse to bust in. Given her heightened perception skills, he’d avoided bringing women around unless he intended them to meet his mother.

And
that
hadn’t happened much.

At least until now.

Jo’s phone beeped. She reached into her pocket, but stopped, glancing back at him. “Can I get this? It’s probably Hillary’s rap sheet coming through.”

“We’re good. Go for it.”

“It’ll take a second for the photo to load, but we’ll need to stop somewhere so I can print it.”

She punched the screen a few times and came back to him. “Gabe?”

“Yep?”

“I’d like a weekend away with you. Being down here makes me realize we miss out on a lot. My folks have a house in the Hamptons. We should go there. Even in the winter it’s beautiful.”

The Hamptons. Jo Pomeroy was so far above his pay grade he didn’t know what to think of it. “Is there a king-sized bed?”

“Two of them.”

“Sold. Get some dates together and I’ll work it out.”

“Good.” She squeezed his arm; let her hand stay there, skin-to-skin. Just how he liked it. “I’d like that. A lot.”

—:—

“Okay, Tim,” Gabe said after Little Timmy had requested not to be referred to as Timmy.

Jo resisted an eye roll. Whatever. All they needed was Little Timmy—Tim—to look at the picture and give them a thumbs-up or down about Hillary being the one who’d hired him to deliver that package.

She slid the mug shot she’d printed, complements of the office supply store that doubled as a pharmacy, across Tim’s kitchen table. “Do you recognize this woman?”

“That’s Thelma. She’s the one who had me deliver the package.”

Behind her, she heard the rub of fabric that was Gabe shifting around in the tiny kitchen. Heaven help them all if the man’s overactive system would let him relax for a full five seconds. There couldn’t have been ten feet of space and his presence managed to claim every inch of it. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Positive. Her hair is darker now, but that’s her. No doubt.”

Jo nodded. “Thank you, Tim. One more question. How about this man?” She passed him the photo of Martinson. “Recognize him?”

Tim analyzed the photo, tilted his head left then right again. “I don’t think so.”

Huh.
Doesn’t sound confident.
Jo inched the photo closer. “You seem hesitant. Which is okay, I just want you to be sure.”

“I’ve never met him, but he kinda looks like a guy I saw coming out of Thelma’s office last night. He came out as I went in. I didn’t pay him too much mind though. That’s why I’m not sure.”

Jo didn’t bother looking back at Gabe. She didn’t need to. His hyper-awareness flooded the room and the surge must have been rising to epic heights.

Time to go.

“Thank you, Tim. You’ve been extremely helpful.”

She slid her chair back and stood. Timmy’s gaze tracked her then moved to Gabe. “So, am I in trouble?”

This poor guy. All he wanted was to raise extra money for his growing family. Jo leaned forward, patted his hand. “I don’t think so. If you are, I’ll help you. Don’t worry. Okay?”

He glanced at Gabe, who remained stoic, arms folded, face revealing nothing—zippo. The man was a New York City cop. One couldn’t expect him to have reactions to every situation. With the horrors he faced on a daily basis, continually getting emotional would get him locked in a psych ward.

She turned to Gabe. “Sergeant? Shall we go?”

“Oh, we shall,” he said.

—:—

Jo stood behind Gabe in the hallway of Thelma’s-slash-Hillary’s office building while the big man banged on her door. No answer. She checked her watch. Three-thirty. Apparently Thelma kept banker’s hours.

After trying the handle and finding it locked, Gabe backed up a step, staring at the door. “Damn.”

“Plan B. Lawyers always have a plan B.”

“Let’s hear it, Counselor.”

She swirled her index finger and held it up. “We visit Ellie. Maybe the sheriff too and show them the photo. In a town this size, someone will know where she lives.

“Yeah, and then the sheriff will be all kinds of jacked-off that we’re running rogue. If we don’t find Martinson, we’ll both get our asses handed to us for investigating on our own.”

“We’re not running
rogue
. We’re assisting his investigation.”

Gabe made a strangled sound. “Sure, the sheriff and my boss’ll buy that. No sweat.” He grabbed her elbow and ushered her to the front porch, where a second door led to the insurance office next door.

“Should we check in there? See if they know where she lives?”

“I thought about it. But if she has a friend in there, the second we leave the office, she makes a call and Thelma is in the wind.”

“Good point.”

He scratched the back of his head, scrunching his face. “Our best bet is to figure out where she lives and ambush her at her house.”

Working with Gabe for the past year had seasoned her for his moods, his ability to make a plan and attack a situation. Regardless of where he stood on an issue, he never—ever—appeared apprehensive. Regardless of his emotional state, what he showed the world was a warrior, unafraid and ready for battle. What she hadn’t been seasoned for was this Gabe, who, for the first time on a work-related assignment appeared…anxious.

She touched his arm. “Hey, if we have issues with the sheriff, I’ll take the bullet, so to speak. Everyone on the task force knows I’m a wild card. I also don’t work for the NYPD. They can’t fire me and I promise you, they won’t fire you. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’m not worried about getting fired.”

“What then?”

He waved his hand. “This. All of it. We’re in a strange place. I know nothing about how things are done here. In New York, if I need something I know where to go and when. Everything about this place feels…wrong.”

“You’re overthinking.”

“Hell, yeah, I’m overthinking. What else is there to do? We’re completely on our own here.”

Jo’s phone rang. Why did it ring every damn time Mr. August decided to open up to her?
Ignore it
.

Gabe waggled his hand. “You need to get that. It might be the Port Authority guy.”

Point taken there. Third ring. She fumbled in her pocket and managed to hit the talk button before the call dropped. “Jo Pomeroy.”

“Ms. Pomeroy, this is Chuck Davis.”

She glanced at Gabe. Nodded. “Hi, Chuck.”

“You might be the luckiest woman alive.”

Not likely
. She latched onto Gabe’s wrist and squeezed. “Why is that?”

“Because Martinson’s container—at least we think it’s his—is here. Scheduled to be picked up tomorrow. It was x-rayed, then subsequently searched, and it’s loaded with counterfeit items. Shoes, purses, watches, you name it. We’ve seized it.”

Got him. The rat bastard. They got him. Jo slapped a hand on top of her head and blew out a long breath. “That’s great news.”

“What?” Gabe asked.

Jo held the phone away from her. “The container is there. Scheduled to be picked up tomorrow. They searched it and it’s stuffed with knockoffs.”

“Well, holy
shee
-it,” he said, doing his best imitation of Little Timmy. “Put him on speaker.”

She brought the phone back to her ear. “Chuck, Gabe is here. I’m putting you on speaker. Hang on.” She pressed the speaker button. “You there?”

“I am.”

“Chuck,” Gabe said, “we’ve
got
to let them pick up that shipment. If we alert them it’s been seized, our guy is in the wind. If we
don’t
alert them, we have time to saddle up S.W.A.T. and hit the final delivery location. That way, everyone’s surprised and Martinson doesn’t have time to run. Assuming he’s at the delivery location. Either way, we’ll get a bead on him and we’ll still have the shipment.”

As good as that argument sounded, Jo bit her lip. A whole lot of politics would have to be played to pull this one off.

“Sorry, man, that’s not my call. I had to kick it upstairs.”

Gabe glanced at her and shook his head. The fastest way to reach Chuck’s boss was through Tom or Bev.

And they needed to do it fast.

“Thank you for the update,” Jo said. “We appreciate all you’ve done. We’ll be in touch.”

Before she disconnected, Gabe was jabbing at his own phone. “I’m calling Tom. You call Bev.”

Perfection. That’s what they were together. Sharp minds, sharper instincts. No matter how much they disagreed about her risky behavior, when they worked together, they made magic.

“I got voicemail,” Gabe said.