THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE (7 page)

The calm murderer wagged his finger in her face, resting the bottle on her shoulder. “Talk to your cop and convince him you’re dead if he don’t help. You should know my partner’s not foolin’ around.”

Yes, she did.

“And you should also know,” he whispered, “they’s already got someone watching your house 24/7. As soon as they get the call, your family’s sittin’ in another warehouse like this one with guns at their heads. So don’t think you can warn the police or nothing. ’Cause we’ll know and your family’s dead.”

She’d been scared plenty of times over the past six months. The worst had been the day it had all started and she’d listened to them planning to kill her. This was much more horrible. If she died, that was one thing. But the maniac in the corner would seek revenge on her family, make them suffer before killing them.

She’d worried about her family’s well-being before but never thought Griffin would kill them. Maybe rob their house, looking for a sign of where she was staying. It was the main reason she hadn’t contacted them. Giving these monsters the money was her only choice. She couldn’t let anything happen to her family.

Now she had to convince Jake to help her.

“We aren’t letting you out of our sight.” The mean one stormed toward them. “You tell that cop nothing. We get the phone, get rid of him—again—and we take you back to Amarillo.”

“That...that won’t work.” Her brain scrambled for a reason and could only tell them a version of the truth. “The person who’s keeping the money...”

“Yeah?”

“They...um, I convinced them to help me but I swore I’d turn the money over to the police. We need Jake to get it back.”

Both men cursed. Bree shut her eyes as a fist loomed close to her head.

“Come on, man,” the younger guy murmured. “She can’t be beat up.”

Bree opened her eyes and Larry was jerking his forearm free as he retreated to the car.

“Don’t get any ideas, princess.” The younger guy gently slapped her cheek. “All I want is the money. Then he can do whatever he wants.”

Chapter Eight

Jake waited in a chair in Captain Kennedy’s office. He was ready to face his boss, ready to explain the events of today and not look like an imbecile. He hadn’t been the only detective to initially miss the dog sitter’s involvement earlier in the day, yet he was the only one called back to the office to be held accountable for her kidnapping.

He’d been patient with the razing, the errands, the grunt work for his fellow detectives. He took his work seriously and would let his supervisor know that he did—even while holding a shivering puppy in the crook of his arm.

There was something special about this pup. Sad eyes. A loyal spirit. He’d connected with her this morning at the death of her owner. Giving her up wasn’t an option. He’d decided to keep Dallas and wouldn’t send her back to the shelter after she’d saved his life. So he held her in spite of the wet-dog smell and her shivering in her sleep. One officer at the desk had offered to take Dallas off his hands, but he’d shaken his head. Maybe his deadly look had discouraged anyone else from making another attempt.

He’d reported straight to the captain’s office upon his return and had been waiting for at least half an hour. There hadn’t been much for him to take care of at the scene. Owens had arrived and ordered a patrolman to escort him back. Other officers had returned and were already breaking for coffee.

“You’ve screwed this case up enough for a review board hearing,” the captain said, slamming the door behind him and startling Dallas to a low growl. “They’ll contact you when they’re ready to convene. Contact your union rep, but until then, you’re suspended. Your liability will be determined in regards to the escape of a prisoner and destruction of city property.”

Jake stood, shifting the forty-pound pup that was getting heavier by the minute. He soothed her between the ears and used the motion to keep his own cool. He wasn’t used to making mistakes. He definitely wasn’t used to reprimands ending with a suspension.

“Technically, at the time, she wasn’t a prisoner, just an uncooperative witness. Destruction of city property? If you mean the car, I was attacked and rammed into a lake. Doesn’t that—”

Dallas interrupted him by barking, clawing at the warming blanket given to them by the paramedics.

“Don’t think about setting that dog down in my office. That disgusting mutt stinks,” the captain remarked before shuffling through more papers. “You should have gotten rid of it with Animal Control before reporting to me.”

“Came straight here just like you requested. She saved my life, sir. I have no intention of sending her to the pound.”

The captain tapped a pen, clicking the button with each touch to his desk, never looking up. Giving thought to his decision about suspending him or annoyed at the delay? Jake couldn’t tell.

“I would like to explain why I—”

“Your actions today have reeked of insubordination. You disregarded direct orders and if I have any say, you’ll be gone for good. I’d start looking for a job somewhere else. Maybe back in the Podunk town you sprouted from.”

Again, the captain had addressed him without a direct look. The pen had waved in the air by the captain’s ear, but he’d kept his gaze on the folder he’d opened. Jake swallowed hard and forced himself to loosen his hold on Dallas before he upset her further.

“I followed the lead I was assigned.” Maybe Owens hadn’t reported all the facts? “We’d never have known about the suspect. Or that she was the intended victim.”

“So you say. If you’d followed procedures, she’d be in holding.” The captain dug in his desk drawer but continued to click the pen annoyingly. “For all you know, this woman was working with the murderers and escaped.”

“I saw them abduct her. We’ll be lucky if she’s still alive.”

He slammed the drawer and finally looked Jake in the eye. “If alive, we don’t need your inexperience to find her and treat her as a wanted felon.” He stood, leaning forward on his desk. “Her prints match a woman who was assumed dead in an Amarillo fire. Now that we know Sabrina Watkins is alive, she’s wanted for murder. But that’s none of your concern.”

“Assumed dead?”

“Amarillo identified her remains in the fire of her business. She’s cunning and has resources enough to switch dental records. Her business partner accused her of embezzlement and the next day the building was in ashes.” He sat and returned his attention to the file.

“This case feels more complicated than a murder/robbery. Are you certain—”

“You’re suspended and it’s no longer your concern. Leave your badge.” The man didn’t bother looking him in the eye while suspending him. He dialed the phone and requested Personnel.

Reprimands were never easy to take. Mistakes were made and corrected. You looked the commanding officer in the eye like a man, assuring him you understood. With your salute, you assured him you’d learn from your error and it wouldn’t happen again. But what did you do when a man refused to look at you?

Jake reached for the door with his free hand.
This isn’t the military, but I still don’t retreat,
he thought to himself.

“If given the opportunity, I’d be a good Dallas homicide detective.” An unlikely harrumph surfaced from behind him. Jake pivoted in time to receive the older man’s glare.

“There are plenty of officers who put in their time and are waiting for a chance in this department. They know how we do things and have more experience guarding our citizens.” He looked back at the paperwork on his desk, using the pen to point to a table by the door. “Leave your badge and weapon.”

“Can’t help you with that. Must be at the bottom of the lake with the car.” His biceps burned from holding the pup in his arms, but denying the captain his moment re-energized his determination not to complain.

“Incompetent fool.”

Jake’s badge
was
in the car, inside his coat pocket, nothing foolish about its location. His weapon, however, was in the small of his back, under his suit jacket. Keeping his firearm did amount to insubordination. It belonged to him and he wouldn’t give it up. His instincts told him he’d be needing it to save Bree Watkins.

Oorah.

He’d halfway decided to help her when she’d cried into the pup’s fur just before they’d been forced into the lake. Now that he was suspended there was no question. His gut told him she was in trouble and someone had to help. If she was still alive, he’d find her and straighten this mess out.

Never leave a man behind.

“I put in my time, Captain. Eight years to be exact. Six of them overseas in a war zone. If there weren’t a lady present...” He shifted Dallas, who barked on cue. “I might have shown you a bit of the experience I obtained guarding our citizens.”

If there’d been a chance of being reinstated, it was none to gone now. The slamming door sent the remaining people in their office running. He stomped to his desk like a sullen child, again upsetting the pup. He nuzzled her with his chin before tying her to his chair.

Alone, he stowed his few personal items in the same box that he’d brought them to the office the previous week. Dallas patiently waited, wrapped in the remnants of the emergency blanket, her sleepy eyes drooped to a close for another nap. He could relate; it had been a long day.

An annoying cell phone rang. Muted, like in a desk. He ignored it and finished stowing his things. He sat on the corner of his desk, scrubbing his face and wondering what he could do to find Sabrina Watkins. Nothing official. That was for certain. He’d made no friends at the station. With the exception of Sharon in Forensics. He’d asked for a heads-up about the fingerprints, but—shoot, he didn’t have his phone.

“That’s it, Dallas.” The pup’s head sprung up at her name. “I can trace my phone. Bree or her abductors might still have it.”

The annoying cell tune played again. Another look around the desks and he saw the screen light up inside an evidence bag. It was part of the contents from Bree’s suitcase.

Late on a Saturday afternoon, there had been few officers at the station. He took a step toward the break room to locate the officer handling the evidence.
What if they miss the call? What if it’s her?

The only person in sight was the captain, who had his ear to the phone, back to his door. By the looks of it, he was shouting and ticked off—probably because Jake had dared to question his authority. Telling him the suspect’s phone was ringing would do what? Would he listen to reason? Send someone to rescue her?

Jake lifted the evidence bag. It could be anyone calling her. Anyone from her life, leaving a message or a clue to what was really going on.

Hell, that’s my number calling.

No retreat.
He broke the seal and answered.

“Who is this and why do you have my phone?”

“Jake. Thank God, you’re alive and okay. I can’t believe it’s you.”

Bree’s voice sounded relieved but nervous. He’d encountered numerous hostile witnesses afraid for their lives. He recognized the vocal patterns. He thought he’d been finished with surprises today.

“Where are you, Miss Watkins? Can you talk? Do you know who abducted you?” He lowered his voice and moved back to his desk, keeping a close eye on the doorway and stuffing the evidence bag into a file cabinet.

“They want the money located in my suitcase, Jake. If you’ll bring it to Brenda Ellen’s house, they promise to let me go.”

A quick glance showed him there wasn’t enough money to kill over. A couple of hundred had already been bagged. Something was off. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

Bree screamed. It sounded like she’d been slapped and the phone had fallen to the floor.

“You bring the suitcase where we met this mornin’ or you’ll find another dead dog walker,” a man shouted.

“Wait, there’s nothing—”

The line was dead.

No one in the station had witnessed the call and the captain was still occupied with his own conversation. Jake slipped the phone into his jacket pocket. The suitcase had been emptied. Mostly personal items. Clothes, a toiletry bag and dark hair dye—making him wonder about the natural color of Bree’s hair.

Constantly scanning for the officer’s return, he quickly searched the lining of the case. Nothing.

Then he dumped the toothpaste and makeup from the smaller bag. A lining had been sewn inside. A little tug and it was gone. Hidden between two pieces of cardboard was a large stack of hundred-dollar bills. He stuck all of it in his pocket and replaced the personal items to cover his discovery.

No time to count. He scooped Dallas under one arm and the box in the other, then left the building.

What the heck are you doing, man? Put the money back before someone notices. You’re breaking your oath to uphold the law. Are you keeping your promise to a dead woman? Or did the amethyst eyes take over more than your brain?

He didn’t have to think about it. Bree Watkins was innocent and needed his help. If his gut was wrong, he’d be the one dumping her in his captain’s lap along with her two buddies who’d sent the department car into White Rock Lake.

Inside his truck, the questions of how he’d accomplish this feat without assistance crossed his mind a time or two. A rescue with no team. No backup. No plan.

“Aw, don’t be scared, pup. Come here, girl.” He patted his leg and Dallas crawled onto his lap, swiveling her head to view him from her left. “There’s always the marine corps if I don’t go to jail. Either way, I’ll get you a good home.”

But before that, he had to find Bree. He’d seen the desperation for someone to believe her in those special eyes. He felt the setup in his gut. It was all too convenient. Her genuine look of hopelessness as that brawny son of a bitch carried her away strengthened his resolve to get her back. If they’d wanted her dead, they would have shot her in the lake.

There had to be something he was missing. They knew he was a cop. The stack of bills wasn’t enough to risk a ransom drop. There had to be more to the story. He needed details from Bree.

The phone company didn’t want to cooperate, but he coaxed until they verified his phone was near the Lakewood area. He’d make good time back to the murder scene. Bree’s abductors wouldn’t know what he drove so he passed by the house, parking diagonal with a good view of the perimeter. The sky had darkened while the sun dropped behind more forecasted snow clouds. He waited a good fifteen minutes. No activity anywhere on the street.

Dallas whined when he moved her off his lap. She was probably hungry, thirsty and needed to pee. But she’d have to wait in the rear seat of his truck. He had a single-handed rescue to execute.