Criminal Intent (MIRA) (30 page)

“I never cry,” she said through tears. “Except that ever since I met you, it seems as though it’s all I do.”

“That’s really great. It’s gratifying to know I have the same effect on women as a peeled onion.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I make you cry all the time in a good way?”

“Damn you, Hunter, you’re deliberately misconstruing my words.”

“There’s the Annie we all know and love. Feisty, fiery, sharp-tongued—”

“Shut up and kiss me. I have to get back to work, even if you don’t. Those videos won’t get shelved all by themselves. And it looks like Estelle won’t be coming in to—”

The rest of her words were cut off abruptly as he kissed her so hard she saw stars. “That better?” he said when he was done.

“Maybe. I’ll need a few minutes of recovery time before I know for sure. While we’re on the subject, do the taxpayers of this town have any idea about the things you do while the meter’s running?”

“I suspect you’re the only one, sugarplum.”

“Hmm. I never looked at it that way, but you’re right. I’m a property owner here in Serenity. That means you work for me, doesn’t it? I could demand that you be fired for dereliction of duty.”

“You could, but you won’t. If I had a real job, I wouldn’t be
able to sneak away in the middle of the day to ravish your delectable body.”

“You have a point.” She glanced past his shoulder, at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eleven-thirty. “I’d love to stay and continue the verbal foreplay,” she said with regret, “but I really do have to go.”

“It’s okay. I have an eleven-thirty lunch date anyway.”

“Oh?” She drew her eyebrows together in a mock scowl. “Anybody I know?”

“My brother. We’re having lunch so we can talk over Gram’s situation before we meet with her doctors at one o’clock.”

“Oh.” She ran a hand up his cheek, left it resting near his brow. “Serious stuff.”

“Yeah.” He turned his head and kissed her wrist. “Serious stuff.”

“As long as we’re being serious…are you free tonight?”

“Do I look like I have a life? I’m pretty much free every night. Why?”

She took her hand away. “There are some things we need to talk about. Things I need to tell you. About me.” She took a deep breath. “About my situation.”

“Christ, Annie, you’re not married, are you?”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. Just…will you come over? And bring an open mind with you?”

His eyebrows came together and the lines that bracketed his mouth deepened. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Is that why you’re so secretive about your past?”

She fisted her hands in the front of his shirt. “Will you please stop being a cop for just two seconds? We don’t have time to get into it right now. I’ll tell you everything tonight.”

Stretching on tiptoe, she kissed him on the lips. He let out a hard breath and responded with enthusiasm. The kiss lasted for a while before they both had to come up for air or risk asphyxiation.

“All
right?” she said softly.

He let out a sigh. Sounding a little miffed, he said, “I guess it’ll have to be.”

Louis Farley’s day had started out like crap, and so far, it hadn’t gotten much better. The idiot who’d stolen his Gateway had slowed him down considerably. Even though he knew it was a waste of time, he’d spoken to the hotel manager, who’d been solicitous and courteous and sincerely apologetic. The police had been called, and he’d filed a theft report. But of course they weren’t going to recover the computer. Buick Man would take all the information he wanted from it and then either pawn it or toss it in a river somewhere. The computer wasn’t the real issue here, not for Louis or for the bozo who’d taken it. If the hotel didn’t cover its cost, he had insurance that probably would. No, it wasn’t the loss of the hardware that was so devastating. It was the information the computer held that was irreplaceable. And if Buick Man knew anything at all about computers, it would take him about thirty seconds of rooting around in the IE history file to figure out where Louis was headed. Which meant that Buick Man not only knew where Robin Spinney was, but he was probably two hours ahead of Louis in getting there.

The idea made him antsy. Something was going on here, something he didn’t like. He’d tried three times today to reach Luke Brogan. The first time, he’d been told that the sheriff wasn’t in yet. The second and third times, he’d been given the runaround. What, exactly, was the deal here? Brogan had seemed distracted the last couple of times they’d talked. Nervous, almost. Now, he couldn’t reach the man. And that made Louis nervous.

He passed a sign that read SERENITY 15 MILES. The countryside reminded him a lot of home. Corn that was tall and already starting to tassel; black and white Holsteins grazing
contentedly in rocky pastures by the roadside. Everything green as far as the eye could see, and a fresh scent of pine drifting through his open window. He’d grown up on a farm in rural Vermont, not so very far from here. His parents were gone now, the farm sold, the old farmhouse torn down and the land subdivided and turned into a housing development. It had been years since he’d visited. You couldn’t go home again, especially when they’d razed home in favor of a bland row of generic two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath ranch houses. But this part of Maine felt enough like Vermont to make him homesick for the first time in ten or twelve years.

A few miles outside Serenity, he pulled off the road into a small sandpit used by winter road crews, and tried again to reach Brogan. The woman who answered the phone was a real hard-ass. He should know. He’d been dealing with her all day. “Sheriff’s Department,” she said through her nose. “Can I help you?”

“Sheriff Brogan, please.”

“I’m sorry, the sheriff isn’t available. Is there somebody else who can help you?”

“I really need to speak to him personally. This is the fourth time I’ve called today, and all anybody can tell me is that he’s not available. I need to know when he will be.”

For the first time, Miss High-and-Mighty hesitated. “Who’s calling?” she demanded.

“This is his cousin Raymond. We were supposed to meet for lunch today in Tupelo, but we must’ve got our wires crossed, because Luke didn’t show up. I’m just a little bit worried, Miss. It’s not like my cousin to miss an appointment.”

“Just a minute,” she snapped, and put him on hold. While the Backstreet Boys sang in his ear, Louis waited. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to Brogan when he got him on the phone, but this job was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth. He’d
figured out where she was; maybe it was time to turn the information over to Brogan and get out of here. Turn the rental car around and head on back. Maybe spend a couple days tooling around Vermont. It had been a while since he’d taken a real vacation. Maybe it was time to revisit the hills and valleys of his childhood. Rent himself a little fishing cabin, kick back, and relax.

“Sergeant Vincent. Can I help you?”

It wasn’t Brogan, but at least he’d moved up from the surly dispatcher. “I hope so,” he said in his most ingratiating Southern drawl. “My name’s Raymond Cardwell, and I’ve been tryin’ all day to reach my cousin, Luke Brogan. He stood me up for a lunch date, and that’s just not like him. But nobody can seem to tell me where he is or when he’ll be back. I don’t suppose you could help me, could you?”

“You’re his cousin, you say?”

“That’s right. His momma and mine were sisters. Esther and Muriel. You never saw two sisters so close. Why, I can remember when—”

“Mr. Cardwell,” Sergeant Vincent interrupted. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you.”

Louis’s hand tightened on the cell phone. “Bad news?” he said.

“I regret to inform you, sir, that your cousin passed away early this morning. He was shot and killed by an intruder who broke into his house.”

Louis could feel the color draining from his face. Funny how he’d always thought that was just an expression. At the other end of the phone, Vincent said, “Mr. Cardwell? Are you all right? Mr. Cardwell?”

With the flick of a button, Louis broke the connection. He looked at his hand. It was shaking. For a minute, he thought he might lose his breakfast. Now what? Not for an instant did he believe the intruder story. It was all just too neat. Whoever killed
Brogan had done it for a reason. Just as they’d had him followed for a reason.

And now they knew where Robin Spinney was.

If there was one thing Louis Farley wasn’t, it was a hero. He didn’t have any particular beliefs about what came after death, and he wasn’t in any hurry to find out. But whatever was going on here, he was in it up to his contact lenses. He knew too much. He wasn’t even sure what it was that he knew, but whatever it was, it made him a marked man. So even though his natural inclination would have been to turn tail and save his own hide, there was little sense in it. Sooner or later, they’d catch up to him anyway. As long as he had to stick around and see it through, he might as well track down Spinney and warn her. Maybe if they pooled their information, maybe if they used two heads instead of one, they could find a way out of this mess without getting killed.

Otherwise, he had a sinking feeling they were both toast.

They arrived at the hospital a little early, and he sat in the waiting room to allow Brian and Gram a little privacy for their long-overdue reunion. He was riffling through a magazine when his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the number. Flipping the phone open, he said, “Hunter.”

“Davy, it’s Dee.”

He dropped the magazine on the couch beside him. “Dee,” he said stiffly.

“I’m not coming to the meeting.”

Dryly, he said, “There’s a surprise.”

“I was planning to come. Somebody called in sick, and I had to work early. I’ve spent the last hour trying to find somebody to cover for me, but nobody’s home. Or if they are, they’re not answering their phones.”

“Fine, Dee. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Wait
a minute. I’m not done.” She paused, and he could hear her breathing, a little too hard, a little too fast. “Look,” she said, “I’m trying. I really am.”

“I can tell.”

“Shut up, asshole, and listen to me. I know you don’t always agree with me. Hell, I figure if we hit ten percent agreement, we’re doing good. I know I have old-fashioned ideas, Davy, but I can’t help it. It’s the way I am. I’m too old to change. And being old-fashioned doesn’t make me wrong. It just makes me different from you. Understand?”

He felt a twinge of guilt. It was a small twinge, but a twinge nevertheless.

“I love Gram,” she went on. “I know I don’t always act like it, but I do. I’m doing the best I can. Hell, Davy.” She laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Maybe I shouldn’t go around judging people, but you’re just as bad as I am. You judge me without knowing anything about my life. I guess it’s okay when the shoe’s on the other foot.”

Again, that twinge of guilt prodded at him. “What’s your point, Dee?”

“My point is that whatever you and Brian decide to do, I’ll go along with it. I want to be part of this thing. I can’t be there right now, but I want to be part of it.” Again, she paused. “I went to see Gram last night. She tell you that?”

“No,” he said, surprised. “I haven’t seen her yet today. Bri’s with her right now.”

“I would’ve brought the kids with me, but they have that under-twelve rule. You know?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

“Will you let me know what you and Brian decide?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’ll let you know.”

Silence at her end. He waited it out. “So…how is he?”

“Bri’s doing great, Dee. You could see for yourself if you were here.”

“Damn
it, Davy, I told you, it’s not my fault. I could’ve refused to come to work, but guess what? I need this job. I have to support my family, in case you forgot. Look, I don’t want to fight. It seems like that’s all we ever do. Can we just this once try to be civil?”

“I thought I was being civil.”

“Good, because there’s something else.”

“What do you mean, something else?”

“Something happened this morning, and I thought you should know about it. Some guy came into the Big Apple. I’ve never seen him before. Nice-looking guy, real friendly. He flashed a picture of Annie Kendall and started asking questions about her.”

He sat up straighter on the couch. “What kind of questions?”

“Where she lived, if I knew her, that kind of stuff. Claimed he was an old college buddy who was passing through town, and thought he’d look her up.”

“Was he a cop?”

“Hmm…I suppose he could’ve been, but I don’t think so. He didn’t look like one. Cops, they all have something. I can’t explain what it is, but there’s just something about ’em. I could go into a room full of people and probably pick out every cop in the room.”

Surprised, he said, “What about me? Do I have this indefinable something?”

“Are you kidding? You have it in spades.”

He mentally filed the surprising information to pull out at a future time and examine. Right now, he had more pressing things to worry about. “Did you tell him anything? About Annie…ah, Ms. Kendall?”

“You can drop the act, Davy. I know you’re sleeping with her.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“If you’re going to be sneaking out of a woman’s house at seven-fifteen
on a Sunday morning, you probably shouldn’t pick one who lives across the street from Jo Crowley. Anyway, yeah, I told him where she lived. Like I said, he was all nice and good-looking and he seemed sincere as hell. It wasn’t until after he left that I started thinking about it and realized maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe you should have.”

“I just thought, with you and her being…you know…maybe I ought to tell you. Listen, I have to go. I have a customer. You’ll call me later?”

“I’ll call you. Thanks, Dee.”

He didn’t like this. Didn’t like the idea of some stranger running around town asking questions about Annie. If she was in trouble—and he suspected she was—he needed to know.

He dialed the station on his cell phone. “Dix,” he said when she picked up, “I need you to do something for me, and I need you to keep it quiet. Can you do that?”