Twisted Shadows (38 page)

“He stopped someone from killing you.”

“You're saying my guardian angel could be my ultimate executioner,” she said. “Then why would my mother have told him so much about me?”

“I don't know,” he said. “He might be exactly who he says he is, but I won't know until I talk to Gray. I just know we need to be careful.”

He reached over and touched her cheek. “You must be exhausted.”

She was. Adrenaline sufficed only so long. Yet being here with him—even in these circumstances—made her feel warm and oddly content. And safe.

He looked at his watch, then leaned over and touched her lips with his, his fingers tucking a curl behind an ear in a devastatingly intimate way. “One of these days …”

“One of these days, what?” she asked lazily after a moment's silence.

But he didn't reply to that question. Instead, he straightened. “We should be going.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. She felt an intake of breath. She affected him as he affected her. A comforting thought.

He backed out of the narrow dirt track until they neared the main road, then turned the car around.

“As much as I like you there,” he said, “you'd better put on your seat belt.”

Reluctantly she did. And thought ahead, wondering whether they were traveling toward her mother.

Or a trap.

They stopped at a gas station. Nate suggested that Sam go inside and pick up several soft drinks and a variety of snacks while he used the pay phone. He knew that bar number intimately. He'd spent a lot of hours there after his wife died.

Gray picked it up on the first ring.

“You weren't followed?”

“Come on, Nate. You know me better than that.”

“These are professionals,” Nate said. “They must have gotten to Steamboat before Sam did. There was another attack.”

“Is she all right?”

“A bullet in the leg. She's one hell of a lady. Tried to protect her friend just as she tried to pull Merritt from a burning car. But I picked up some interesting information, and I need you to check on two men. A Jack Maddox in Flagstaff, Arizona. He says he owns an outdoor adventures company. And someone named Simon—either first or last name—who owns a private plane in Durango, Colorado.”

“Why not something hard?” Gray complained.

“I know how you like challenges.”

“What else?”

“I need the names and photos of Boston patrolmen who worked in and around Merritta's home and business thirty-four years ago. And whether an undercover agent turned up missing at that time.” Nate knew that Maddox said he had obtained a list, but Nate wanted his own, and he knew that if anyone could get the photos, Gray could.

Gray gave a low whistle. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Just guesses at the moment. And by the way, someone else might be trying to obtain those photos, too, so …”

“Be sly,” Gray finished. “I can do sly,” he added with a chuckle. “It should be easy enough to get the names of those stations, then the names of the men working out of them. Photos might be a bit harder if they left the department more than twenty years ago.”

“Concentrate on any names that might ring bells with you,” Nate said. “Someone who might have a lot to lose now.”

“Okay. How do I reach you?”

“You don't,” he said. “I'll call you at Janie's. Ten tomorrow morning?”

“I'll see what I can get.”

“Thanks.”

He hung up. He owed Gray more than his thanks, but he would take care of that later.

Sam stood next to him with a bag. She also held a T-shirt with an elk on the front. “I got two of them,” she said. “I'll wear the cougar. You can have the elk.”

He grinned at her. She limped but wasn't using the cane. She apparently had just combed her hair and put on lipstick and she looked gorgeous, especially with the trace of mischief in her eyes.

He handed the phone to her. “I think it's safe enough to make some calls.”

She took it and dialed a number. It rang and rang and rang.

He saw the disappointment in her eyes. He felt it, too. He wanted to confirm that her mother was safe with the man called Simon. But if he had been Simon, he would have told Patsy Carroll not to answer the phone.

She clicked the number off, then called a second number.

“Terri?”

He started to move away.

Then he heard Sam say, “Nick?” and moved back closer where he could hear.

“He's staying in town. He's worried about you.” Terri's voice was barely audible.

“Where is he?” Sam asked, turning the receiver so he could hear better.

“Your favorite hotel. Call him.” Terri rattled off a number.

“Thanks.”

“Should I tell him you called me?”

Nate shook his head.

“No,” Sam said reluctantly. “I have to think about it.”

“I like him, Sam. He took me to supper earlier. I think—”

Nate shook his head. “Cut it off,” he mouthed.

She looked rebellious for a moment, then nodded. “I have to go. I'll check back with you later.”

He reached over and hung up the receiver.

“Surely there wouldn't be someone tracing her brother's phone.”

“It's better not to take chances,” he said, starting for the car.

“You don't believe he came because he's worried about me?” she asked.

“I don't know, Sam. I don't think it's a good idea to trust anyone at this point.”

He saw her fighting tears, and it was so rare, despite all she had been going through, that his heart ached for her. She was hurting and tired and scared. Hell, he was scared, too. And he realized how much she wanted to trust Nick Merritt. How important it was to her. And now Merritt might have come to help her and he was throwing cold water on the idea.

But Merritt had always been an enigma to Nathan and that's why he'd always suspected him of being involved. Too many inconsistencies. Too many coincidences.

Even if Merritt had noble intentions, Nate didn't want Sam in the cesspool that was organized crime in Boston.

He opened the car door for her and she got in while he filled the tank with gas. Then he got in the driver's seat.

Another thirty minutes and they would be in Fort Collins. Perhaps then they could both get some rest. And some answers the next morning.

He wanted to reach over and touch her again, but she looked so fragile he feared she might break.

“For the record,” he said, “I don't think your brother would hurt either you or your mother. But …”

But he didn't like Merritt's sudden appearance in Steamboat, either. He didn't like him taking Terri to supper.

Raging inside, he started the car and pulled out on the road.

twenty-nine

Sam guided Nate to the motel. It was, as she said, large and well-lit.

He drove around the parking lot, looking for tags obviously belonging to rental cars.

He noticed several scattered throughout the area. He checked each one of them. Hit men usually kept their cars pristine clean. They wanted no clues, and they didn't take chances that a piece of paper might find its way under the seat, or a map might have a fingerprint.

None of the cars reached that pristine state. Most had maps scattered on the seat, a jacket or some hint of its occupant.

He quickly saw Maddox's truck and wondered whether the dog was also a welcome guest in the hotel.

Then he saw a door open. It was six rooms down from the pickup. Maddox had obviously seen him.

The dog, Jock, stepped out with him. Nate saw no sign of a weapon. Just a manila envelope in Maddox's hand. That didn't mean anything, though.

“I thought you would check out the parking lot before driving in.” Maddox said it with satisfaction rather than irritation.

“I'm sure you did the same.”

Maddox's expression didn't change. “You purposely lost me.”

“There was a stop we had to make.”

Through the car window, the two men evaluated each other. Judged.

Maddox nodded. “I rented a room for you two. Mr. and Mrs. Powell. I rather thought you wanted to stay together.”

“I'm not sure I want to go into an empty room when you've been holding the key.”

“Understandable,” Maddox said.

Nate realized then that Maddox had just as many doubts about him as he did about Maddox. He grinned. “Then you won't mind if I get another room.”

“Nope. But perhaps you won't feel the need when you look at this.” He held up the envelope.

“What's in it?”

“The list of police officers who served in 1968. A few photos. A phone number for Miss Carroll.” Maddox glanced around the parking lot again. “Will you come in to talk or are we going to keep dancing around one another?”

Hell, Nate thought, the door was open. He could see nearly the whole room. And Maddox was right. They weren't going to accomplish much if they kept this up. He looked at Sam, who nodded.

He found a parking place and stepped out of the car, putting his hand on his holstered weapon. Maddox opened the passenger door and helped Sam out and led the way into the room, Jock following.

Once inside, Nate checked the bathroom and closet. Nothing unusual. A notebook computer sat open on the desk.

Maddox closed the door, turned the locks, fastened the chain. He handed Nate the envelope.

Nate didn't tell him he was obtaining his own list. They had different sources. They might get different results, either on purpose or by oversight.

“I want to call my mother,” Sam said.

Maddox handed Samantha a cell phone and a piece of paper with a number. “It's clean,” he said. “No way anyone can trace that.”

Samantha grabbed them like a lifeline and looked around.

“The bathroom,” Maddox suggested.

Samantha disappeared inside and closed the door.

Nate turned back to Maddox. “The photos?”

Maddox handed him the envelope.

Nate sat down and opened it. Page after page of names fell out. “There're no precinct numbers.”

“No.”

Nate took the chair at the desk and took a quick preliminary look at the list. It had been faxed, but he found no telephone number, no way to identify who had sent it.

It was lengthy and, to his eyes, blurry. He wished he'd had more sleep, but he started reviewing the many hundreds of names.

He was only barely aware that Maddox made a pot of coffee from the in-room miniature maker and placed a cup in front of him.

Nate recognized many of the names. Except for a few years with the Florida and Atlanta offices, he'd lived in Boston. He'd been in the FBI Boston office ten years. He knew the history of many of the precincts.

Some on the list were still with the Boston P.D., many of them as captains, lieutenants, even battalion commanders. Some had left, going to surrounding jurisdictions as police chiefs. Some had become private investigators.

He marked several names as he went through the list. Then one caught his attention, because he'd seen the man just a few days ago.

He was the judge who'd approved the tap on Nick Merritt's home. Judge Terrence McGuire.

For a moment, he dismissed the idea. Judge McGuire was legendary among law enforcement officers. A former policeman who had worked his way through college and then law school. He'd been an assistant district attorney before being elected as a state judge, then appointed to a federal judgeship.

Cops loved him. He was a law-and-order judge, the one most of them chose to go to for search warrants, wires and phone taps.

He was also up for a U.S. Court of Appeals judgeship and was already being discussed as a potential Supreme Court justice.

He had one hell of a lot to lose.

Nate was aware of Maddox's gaze on him. He went past McGuire's name without marking it. He would wait until tomorrow morning when he received some information back from Gray.

He continued down the list of names. One was now a deputy police commissioner, another a high-ranking confidant of the mayor. By the time he'd finished, he had marked fifteen names, not including McGuire.

He knew in his gut that the man they were looking for could be McGuire. He fit the profile of someone who had a great deal to lose, particularly now. But Nate didn't want the least suspicion to fall on him unless he was absolutely sure.

Sam dialed the number Maddox had given her. Her hand shook.

It was answered by a man with a deep, gruff voice. “Yes?”

“This is Samantha Carroll,” she said.

“Just a moment.”

In seconds, her mother's voice came on the phone. “Samantha, thank God you're safe. I heard about … I didn't think you would be hurt. I am so very, very sorry. You're all right, aren't you?” she hurried on. “Jack assured me that you were. That you're with an FBI agent you trust.”

Sam took a deep breath. “I'm fine. Truly, I am. But I've been worrying about you. Are you—?”

“Yes. I'm perfectly safe. A friend of David's is looking after me. I wanted to tell you, but my … friend didn't want any trail left, and he said my house was wired. I was afraid yours was, too. They said they would take care of you.”

Sam heard the tears in her mother's voice. “Don't worry. I'm safe.”

“This agent with you? Are you—?”

“Sure of him? Yes. He's saved my life—and Nick's. He's risking his career to help me.”

“Jack will bring you to me,” her mother said. “Then we can sort things out. I'm so sorry,” she said again. “I never thought this would touch you. It had been so long, and …”

“I know,” Sam said. “But your sister. You said you contacted her. Is she safe?”

“Yes. She and her family have gone on vacation. That's my fault, too. If I hadn't contacted her—”

“Then they would have found you some other way,” Sam said. “It needs to end.”