Line of Fire (19 page)

“Why would they fight with you? It wasn’t your fault.”

“I wanted to keep my baby, and they were devastated. They didn’t want any part of a grandchild that had come from such a terrible event. They didn’t want me to throw away my youth, as they put it. But I couldn’t end a tiny life that had no say. She was my baby, no matter what.”

She swallowed hard and blinked back the tears. Tommy put his cup aside and pulled her close.

“Yes, she was, and nobody can ever take that from you. It was your decision, the right one for you. I choose to believe your parents knew that, deep down, because they’d have to if they were anywhere near as wonderful as their daughter.”

“Tommy.”

He took her in his arms, held her close. So close she couldn’t breathe, but that was more than okay, because he was here, keeping her safe. “I get it, baby, I really do. Thank you for sharing this with me, for trusting me with your heart.”

“Thank you for listening,” she whispered, clinging to him. “For not giving me useless words about how it all worked out for the best, or how I’ll have more children. You hear me, like nobody else ever has.”

“I’ll always listen, and be here for you. You have my promise. I love you so much.” He pulled back, kissed her with rising hunger. Stared into her eyes. “Do you think we could put off that meeting with your brother until tomorrow? I just want today to be about us, and to hell with the rest of the world.”

“I’ve never heard a better suggestion.”

With that, he flashed his heartbreaking smile and lowered her to the blanket.

And spent the rest of the afternoon making the world go away.

18

Tommy sat with Shea snuggled against his side on the couch and watched her brother swipe a hand down his face.

“You realize this isn’t my area of expertise,” Shane said, frustrated. “I can’t do anything official.”

“But you’re in homicide!” Shea protested. “Two construction workers were killed in the scaffold collapse, and Tommy was almost murdered.”

“I’ve got nothing to go on that hints his being trapped in the warehouse wasn’t just an accident. Notice I said ‘official. ’ I can do some snooping into Prescott’s holdings, see if any red flags pop up.” Shane’s cell phone rang and he snatched it from the holder on his belt. “Ford.”

After a pause, Shane hissed an exclamation and demanded to know the particulars of whatever his caller had to say. In a few moments, he hung up and pinned Tommy with a hard stare.

“Seems you might be onto something. There was a man’s body found in the remains of the warehouse.”

A chill chased down his spine. “Jesus. That’s what Prescott bitched to Hensley about—that the authorities would find a body belonging to the man who’d fucked up and didn’t do the job right.”

“That job being to kill you.” Shane still sounded skeptical about that part, although he was inclined to believe him about the building insurance scam.

“You’re the cop, you tell me. All I know is I was hit over the head twice before the building fell, and I nearly got my ass toasted.”

Shea spoke up in his defense. “Add that fact with all the others and it makes a pretty damning picture. Especially since they didn’t report him trespassing at city hall last night.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Shane rose, readying to leave. “I promise I’ll see what I can find out, though it might not be much. The deeper this goes, the more resources it’ll take to uncover it.”

“Whatever you can do,” Tommy said. “I just wanted to go on record with all of this. In case.”

In case I’m right, and Prescott succeeds in killing me. Or worse, hurting Shea.

No, he wouldn’t think like that. Prescott would get what was coming to him, and Tommy would laugh when that day came. He owed the bastard, big-time.

He and Shea spent a few hours together, hanging out. They watched TV, made love, and ate. In between lovemaking sessions they didn’t even bother to get dressed. When the clock starting nudging toward the afternoon, however, he reluctantly got dressed despite Shea’s cute pouting.

“You can take a shower here.”

“Yes, but then I’ll have to put on dirty clothes. I’m just going to dash home, take care of that, and pack a few more clothes. Then I’m going to run a couple of errands and when I’m done, I’ll pick you up and we’ll get a bite to eat. Work for you?”

“Except for the errands. Tell me you’re not going to snoop and get yourself into more trouble.”

“I’m not going to snoop and get into trouble. I’m only going to have a look around the warehouse.”

“I’m not reassured.”

“I’ll be back soon, baby, don’t worry. Okay?”

Finally, she relented, rolled on top of him and gave him a kiss. “Don’t be gone long or I’ll hunt you down.”

“Sounds like fun. Maybe I’ll let you catch me.” He waggled his tongue lewdly.

She slapped his shoulder. “Idiot.”

Laughing, he dressed. He had the love of his life and his world was back on its axis. After promising to hurry, he left before he was tempted to spread her on her back again.

He whistled all the way to his apartment, wondering if it was too early to discuss moving in together. After all, what sense did it make for both of them to keep driving back and forth? Consolidating was a lot more economical nowadays, and damned convenient for his overactive libido. Of course, he had a feeling he’d have to make his suggestion sound a tad more romantic than that. Women were sensitive about that shit.

But with Shea? Yeah, he could do romantic.

He was almost ready to go when a knock sounded on his door. Wary, he placed his gym bag on the floor by the couch, half expecting Prescott to be waiting on the other side. When he peered out the peephole, however, his brow furrowed. An elderly neighbor? He’d never seen this man before, but he appeared harmless enough.

With a mental shrug, he opened the door to see what the man wanted. “Hello,” he said with a friendly smile. “Can I help you?”

The old man’s shoulders were stooped, and his face was a road map of tough battles fought and won. His height equaled Tommy’s and he might’ve been a big man, once. But his worn button-down plaid shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of khaki pants, hung from his slender frame. He shook, his hands constantly in motion. Parkinson’s, Tommy thought.

His rheumy eyes looked Tommy up and down.

“No, young man. But I believe I might be able to help you. May I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside and gestured for the man to come in. He stood by, ready in case the old dude stumbled or needed assistance, but he made it under his own steam and turned to look at Tommy.

“I’d shake your hand, but . . .” He held up his wrapped extremity.

The old man nodded, solemn. “Quite all right.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“No, I won’t be here long enough to get comfortable. If I do, I might not get back up. So I’d best get to the point. My name is Joseph Hensley.”

“Tommy Skyler.”

“I know.”

At first, the name meant nothing. But as he considered his visitor, the man’s last name flipped a switch. “Hensley. Are you a relative of Will Hensley’s?”

“Yep, though I can’t say as I’m too proud of that fact at the moment.” He gave a deep, weary sigh. “Let me just cut through the bull and tell you that I’ve had my eye on my grandson for a bit, and I know he’s gotten himself mixed up with some bad folks. I know you’re that firefighter on the news who got hurt in that warehouse, and my Will is at least partially responsible.”

Tommy gaped at him, incredulous. “You know? How?”

“That ain’t important,” Hensley said gruffly. “Obviously you’ve put together some facts of your own, since you ain’t too surprised. The point is, Will’s gonna make this right because his grandpa don’t plan on giving him a choice. Just maybe, everybody can come out of this with their hides intact. ’Cept for Forrest Prescott. I don’t give a rat’s hairy ass what happens to that bastard.”

Unbelievable. “How are you going to make Will cooperate? Whatever he and Prescott have going on, your grandson is in way too deep to pull himself out. The people he’s dealing with are dangerous.”

He didn’t care to tell Hensley what he’d overheard. First, he wasn’t quite sure he could trust the man. Second, something about the old guy tugged at his heartstrings. He didn’t want to hurt this man.

“He’ll do what’s right. I made a phone call to the son of an old friend, and he’s coming here to look into things, all official. Might be talkin’ to you, too. Name’s Nick Westfall, and he’s a special agent with the FBI.”

“Jesus, you don’t screw around, do you?”

“Not when my only family is in trouble, boy. Maybe you can understand that.”

Tommy thought about Donny, lost to their family for three years now. If only there had been a Joseph Hensley to call in reinforcements for his brother back then, someone who knew how to work the hostage situation from the inside, Donny might still be alive. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I sure can.”

Hensley straightened proudly. “I survived World War II, got myself out of more scrapes than you or my grandson could ever think of gettin’ into for the rest of your lives. Will might be a disaster right now, but he’s my disaster and I’ll be damned if I go to my eternal reward before he’s set to rights.”

“He’s lucky to have you, Mr. Hensley.”

“Joseph.” The man studied Tommy’s scarred face, and then gestured to his wrapped hand. “That going to be okay?”

“I’m not going to lose it, but . . . there’s some things that can’t ever be ‘set to rights,’ Joseph. A man who’s survived what you have knows better.”

The old man suddenly looked ancient, and he nodded sadly. “Damned straight. Well, I’d best be on my way.” He shuffled toward the door, stepped outside as Tommy opened it for him, and faced him once more.

“I don’t know if you can forgive my grandson for his part in what happened to you, but I can tell you that boy will pay for his bad choices for the rest of his life. Sometimes that’s enough of a price for any man.”

“Sometimes it is, Joseph,” he agreed around the knot in his throat.

In that moment, any lingering resentment he’d harbored about his newfound disability vanished. No matter how tough life became, there were always those who had it worse.

The old man nodded and made his way down the sidewalk to a waiting taxi Tommy hadn’t noticed before. As it pulled away from the curb, he pondered Joseph’s parting words and wondered what sort of price the old man might’ve paid for his choices.

He supposed he’d never know.

Shea fidgeted, impatient for Tommy to get back. He hadn’t been gone all that long, but she wanted him here, at her side. So what if she was shamelessly addicted to the man? Who wouldn’t be?

She puttered for a while, fed Miss Kitty early to stop her howling, and settled on the end of the sofa in her favorite spot to read a good John Sandford thriller. She’d just managed to get into hunky Lucas Davenport’s latest scrape with a nasty killer when the phone rang.

Getting up, she hurried to the bar and answered without checking the caller ID, hoping it was Tommy. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sis. Been trying to reach your better half and he must have his cell phone turned off.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

“Got some interesting developments in the matter we’ve been discussing, to put it mildly. Can’t talk here, though. I’ve got a dinner break coming to me in about ten minutes. Can you meet me somewhere?”

“Sure.” She fretted, knowing if Shane wanted to meet right away, and wouldn’t discuss it on a work phone, it was important. “Tommy’s supposed to be back soon, but I’m not sure when.”

“Tell you what. I’ll call and leave a message for him to meet us. How about that Chinese place over by Wal-Mart? It’s quiet this time of day.”

So nobody would be around to overhear. Her anxiety ramped up a notch. “Okay. Twenty minutes?”

“See you then.”

Quickly, she retrieved a pad and pen from the bar and wrote Tommy a note, just in case he didn’t think to check his voice mail. Either way, he’d catch up with them.

Slipping on a pair of flip-flops, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed out. All the way to the restaurant, the possibilities of what Shane might have learned ran through her head. Wasn’t much good obsessing over it, though, until they heard it from him.

Inside, Shane was already waiting in a corner booth at the back of the restaurant. As usual, he was seated facing the dining room rather than with his back to it. Cops were a cautious bunch, and often with good reason.

Flashing her a smile, he got up and gave her a brief but fierce hug, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Nope. An hour earlier, however . . .” She let the statement hang, unable to resist needling her twin.

He made a face. “Oh, God. Don’t make me lose my appetite. There are certain things a man does not want to envision about his sister.”

As she laughed, a waitress came to take their drink orders and ask if they just wanted the buffet. They both ordered soda and said yes to the buffet, but that they were waiting on one more person. When the waitress left, she studied her brother.

“Okay, what did you learn that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”

“Sorry, but there were too many ears there.” He glanced around, then pinned her with his gray eyes. “I had an enlightening visit in my office a short while ago. An FBI agent named Nick Westfall showed up with some intriguing information about Prescott.”

Her brows lifted. “How on earth did the FBI get involved so fast?”

“Seems Agent Westfall received a tip about what’s going on from an unnamed source, or more likely, he just didn’t choose to tell me who it was. Anyway, the agent was actually there to speak with the chief and a buddy of mine who happens to be assistant chief about what he’s learned. All of this insurance scam stuff isn’t my department unless a homicide occurs.”

“So why did he come to see you?”

“During the course of the conversation, my buddy became concerned. Told the agent that one of their detectives had a sister who was at least friends with Prescott and that I ought to be in the loop. The agent agreed to stop by and talk to me, as much to pump me for information about your involvement with Prescott as from any real concern for your welfare.”

“He doesn’t honestly think I’ve got anything to do with what Forrest is up to, does he?” The idea was alarming. She wasn’t overjoyed to be on the FBI’s radar, innocent or not.

“By the time we finished talking, no. I don’t think he believes you’re guilty of anything but ignorance.”

She scowled at her brother. “Gee, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed. “The point is, he gave me some information even though he was certainly under no obligation to share. Seems Prescott’s got a nice racket going.”

“Was it what we suspected?”

“Looks that way so far. The FBI hasn’t been able to dig up proof of every single property he owns—that will take time. But of the ones they’ve found so far, each one is listed as being owned by a different dummy corporation. Westfall said the paper trail could pave a road to Mars. The properties are insured by different companies to avoid suspicion when one of them has a claim made against it for damages.”

“This means they’ve traced some of these recent building disasters back to him?”

“Yeah, and not just around here. There are several properties in other states, too. Two of them have been destroyed and received a payout. If it was just a simple scam for Prescott to get rich, though, that would be too easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Prescott doesn’t have nearly enough money in his bank accounts—at least the ones the FBI has found—to account for the massive fortune they estimate has been scammed. And Will Hensley’s obviously just a lackey. He has a mere fraction of the amount.”