No One Left to Tell (2 page)

She had to.

Go for the spray slowly. No sudden moves. Don’t let him see your fear. He likes your fear
.

He came closer and she could feel the heat of his body. ‘You never should have come.’ There was a mocking lilt to his voice that chilled her to the bone.

‘I have pr—’ Something silky brushed against her jaws a split second before it slid down to her throat and tightened.
Proof. I have proof
. But the words wouldn’t come.

Can’t breathe
. She flailed instinctively, her nails clawing at her throat. She kicked backward, trying to hit his knees, his groin, anything she could reach, but he yanked her up until her feet no longer touched the ground.

No. Please. No
. Her lungs were burning. She pawed at her purse, grabbing the pepper spray, fumbling as she pulled at the cap.
Just get away. Have to get away
.

She wrenched the cap from the tube.
I don’t want to die. Please don’t let me die
.

‘Bitch,’ he muttered. ‘You come here, threatening me. My family. Did you think that would work? Did you think any of this would work?’

She aimed the spray, but his hand clamped over her wrist, twisting, forcing the tube lower. Forcing her finger to press. New pain shot through her eyes, burning, blinding her. She screamed, but her voice was trapped. She was trapped. She dropped the tube, her hands desperately rubbing her eyes.

Make it stop. Please, make it
—

He stepped back, breathing hard. Her hands swung limply at her sides. He dropped her to the floor. She was dead. He’d killed her.

I did it
. For a long time he’d wondered how it would feel to drain the life of another. Now he knew. He’d finally done it.

The bitch.
She thought she could come here. Control me
. She’d learned. The hard way.
Nobody controls me
. He wadded the silk scarf with which he’d choked her, shoved it in his pocket. Leaned over to scoop her purse from the floor and hid it under his coat. He opened the door a fraction.

Nobody was coming. Nobody was watching. Everyone was partying. Having a great time. The music of the band would have covered any sounds they’d made. He slipped from the shed and disappeared behind the hedge. It was done.

Chapter One

Baltimore, Maryland, Tuesday, April 5, 6.00
A.M
.

P
aige Holden pulled her pick-up into the last parking place in the lot, a scowl on her face. Of course it was the one farthest from her apartment. Of course it was raining.

If you were back home, you’d be pulling into your own garage right now and you’d stay warm and dry. You never should have left Minneapolis. What were you thinking?

It was the mocking voice. She hated the mocking voice. It seemed to slither into her mind when she was least prepared, usually when she was most exhausted. Like now.

‘Fuck off,’ she muttered, and the Rottweiler in her passenger seat gave a low growl that Paige took to be agreement. ‘If we were back home, that little kid would still be with that bitch of a so-called mommy.’ Her teeth clenched at the memory, only hours old. She wasn’t sure she’d ever erase the sight of that child’s terrified face from her mind. She didn’t want to.

She’d accomplished something tonight. Someone was safe who otherwise wouldn’t be. That was what she needed to hold on to when the mocking voice intruded. The faces of the victims she had kept safe were what she needed to remember when she woke from the nightmare. When the guilt rose in her throat, choking her.

Zachary Davis would be okay. Eventually.
Because I was there tonight
.

‘We did good, Peabody,’ she announced firmly. ‘You and me.’

The dog pawed at the truck’s door. He’d been cooped up with her in the cab for hours, patiently waiting out the night. Doing his duty.
Guarding me
.

That he did so made her feel safe. That she still needed a protection dog to feel safe in the dead of night annoyed her. That she still jumped when anyone made a sudden move pissed her off. But for now, that’s how it was and she was learning to live with it. Her friends back home told her to give herself more time, that it had only been nine months, that recovery from an assault could take years.

Years
. Paige didn’t intend to wait that long. Briskly, she pulled her hood over her head, clipped Peabody’s leash to his collar. She’d walk him, then grab a coffee and a shower before her next appointment.

And then she’d catch a few hours’ sleep. When she got tired enough, she didn’t dream. A few hours of dream-free sleep sounded like heaven.

Peabody made a beeline for his favorite spot, the lamppost where the neighborhood dogs stopped to pee. He was sniffing when her cell jangled. Juggling the umbrella, she glanced at the display before wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder. It was her partner of three months, who until she was a licensed PI, was really her boss.

‘Where are you?’ Clay Maynard demanded, bypassing any greeting as usual. He was brusque, maybe even a little rude, but he was very smart. And still grieving a devastating loss. Because Paige keenly understood his grief, she cut him some slack.

Under the gruffness resided a good man who, in the three months since she’d moved to Baltimore, had become more like a big brother than a boss. She’d trained with dozens of over-protective ‘big brothers’ just like him during the fifteen years in her old karate
dojo
, and she knew how to deal with his irritation. Keep it cool, make him laugh.

‘Standing under a lamppost watching Peabody pee. If you want,’ she added wryly, ‘I can send a photo. Peabody won’t mind an invasion of his privacy to ease your mind.’

There was a beat of silence, then a grudging chuckle. ‘I’m sorry. I called your landline and you didn’t answer. I figured you’d be home by now.’

Paige wanted to remind him she was thirty-four, not four, and that he was her partner and not her keeper, but she did not. He’d found his last partner brutally murdered. He didn’t want to feel responsible for anyone else’s death, and this Paige completely understood, maybe even better than Clay himself.

Thea’s face, always hovering somewhere on the edge of her mind, now barreled front and center. Terrified, with that gun to her head. Then dead.

And no matter how many Zachary Davises you save, she’ll still be dead
.

‘I had to give my statement to the cops.’ Thea’s face faded to the edge of her mind, replaced with what she’d witnessed through a window just hours before.

‘Had you seen anything like that before?’ he asked.

‘The mom snorting coke, sure.’ It was one of her earliest memories, one she rarely shared. ‘The mom letting her son be groped by her strung-out boyfriend, no.’

Six-year-old Zachary Davis was the subject of a brutal custody battle. Mom had developed a cocaine addiction. Dad filed for divorce and sole custody. Mom was fighting for joint custody, claiming she’d gone clean. Worrying the court would side with Mom, John Davis hired Clay to provide proof that his wife was actively using drugs.

Which was why Paige, as the junior member of Clay’s PI agency, had been sitting outside Sylvia’s apartment all night, taking pictures. They’d expected Sylvia to do coke. That she’d let her boyfriend put his hands on Zachary . . . Paige hadn’t expected that.

‘He would have raped a little boy,’ Clay said evenly. ‘You stopped that from happening. Now Sylvia will have a record – for possession and for prostituting her son.’

‘I was lucky. A cruiser was a minute away when I called 911. If it had been any longer, I would have gone in myself, kicked in the door if I’d needed to. I couldn’t have stood there watching that child be assaulted.’

‘I couldn’t have either, but the boyfriend had a gun. Your black belt wouldn’t have protected you from a bullet.’

Paige found herself rubbing her shoulder where an ugly puckered scar marred her skin. Clay had been kind. He easily could have added,
like it didn’t last summer
.

Her palms suddenly clammy, she wiped them on her jeans, straightening her spine. ‘I had my gun.’ Which she hadn’t that night.
I’ll never make that mistake again
.

‘He would have shot you first.’

‘Then show me your commando tricks so I can enter a room without getting my head blown off,’ she said, her voice gone hard and brittle.

Before becoming a PI, Clay had been a DC cop. Before that, he’d been a Marine who’d trained new recruits, which was essentially what she was – a PI white belt. Her years of martial arts had ingrained within her a deep respect for her teachers, so she softened her tone. ‘Please,’ she added quietly.

‘I will. Tomorrow. You had a hard night and I need you sharp. Take the rest of today off.’

‘Maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll work from home. I’ve got work to do on Maria’s case.’

‘The case you took pro bono,’ he said, slightly disapproving.

‘You would have done the same, Clay.’

He sighed. ‘Paige, every con in jail has a mama that thinks her boy’s innocent.’

‘I know you think I’m naïve,’ she replied. ‘All the evidence said Ramon Muñoz was guilty, but a few things don’t add up. Worst case is I dig through trial transcripts, learning to structure a case of my own.’ She thought of the tears in Maria’s eyes as she’d begged for help. ‘Best case, I give a mama some peace.’

‘Just don’t spend too much time on it, okay? We have to pay the electric bill.’

‘Maria’s stopping by this morning to give me some new information. If it’s worthless, I’ll quit. If it’s got merit, I’ll bring it to you. Gotta go. I need coffee.’

The squeal of tires had her spinning to face the road. The sight of the minivan racing toward her had her leaping out of the way, dragging Peabody with her. She landed hard on her knees in the mud as metal crunched behind her and for a moment she hung there, breathing hard.

Peabody’s barking filled her ears and she looked up, still dazed. ‘Sit,’ she snapped and he dropped into a sit, but quivered, awaiting her next command.

‘Paige? Paige!’ Clay’s shout was tinny coming from her cell phone a few feet away. She scrambled for the phone, twisting to stare at the van, her heart beating wildly.

‘I’m okay. I’m okay.’ She made herself calm.
Breathe
.

‘What the hell happened?’

‘A minivan.’ That was now wrapped around the lamppost she’d been standing under only a minute before. Bullet holes were sprayed across the hatchback and the windshield and windows had been blown to oblivion. ‘It’s been shot up.’

‘I’m calling 911,’ Clay said brusquely. ‘Get somewhere safe.’

She jumped to her feet, then came to an abrupt stop as her eyes shifted from the bullet holes to the driver-side sliding door. It was rust colored while the rest of the van was blue. ‘It’s Maria’s van.’ Paige ran to the van and her heart stuttered. A woman was slumped over the steering wheel. Blood covered her upper body and the deployed airbag. ‘Clay, tell 911 that a woman is bleeding to death.
Hurry
.’

‘Stay with me on this line, Paige,’ he commanded. ‘I’ll call 911 from another phone.’

Paige shoved her phone in her pocket without hanging up.
Déjà vu
, her mind hissed and she pushed the insidious memory away. ‘Maria? Please.’ She wrested the driver’s door open and had to still her panic.

There were holes in Maria’s threadbare coat. Bullet holes. She pressed her fingers to Maria’s throat. A pulse. Faint, but there.
She’s alive. Oh, thank God
.

Paige eased Maria back, then sucked in a breath. This was not Maria, but Elena, her daughter-in-law – Ramon’s wife. Who would want to shoot—?

‘Oh God.’ Dread settled like a dark cloud. They’d had information. Her fear heightening, Paige looked over her shoulder for another car. Elena couldn’t have driven far in this condition. Whoever did this must still be close by.

She unbuttoned Elena’s coat, trying to find a wound to attend, but there was too much blood.
I don’t even know where to start
. ‘Tell me what happened. Who did this?’

‘No cops.’ Elena’s whisper was too soft, her breathing too shallow. ‘Please.’

‘Don’t you dare die on me,’ Paige said harshly. Hands trembling, she undid Elena’s blouse. ‘Dammit. I can’t see where you were hit.’

Then she jumped as Elena’s bloody hand grabbed her wrist. Elena’s eyes blinked furiously, trying to open. ‘No cops,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Just you.
Promise me
.’

‘Fine,’ Paige said desperately. ‘I promise. Who did this to you?’

‘Cops. Chasing me,’ Elena mumbled. ‘Bra.’

Paige heard the sirens approaching.
Thank you, Clay
. If nothing else, it would scare away the shooter, if he was still nearby. She pulled her scarf from around her neck, pressed it to what looked like the worst of Elena’s wounds. ‘Help is coming.’

‘Flash. Drive.’ Struggling to breathe, Elena clawed at her own chest, fumbling with the edge of the bra that was now dark, soaked with blood. She reached for Paige’s hand, holding tight. ‘Tell Ramon. I love him.’

‘You can tell him yourself. You’re going to make it.’

But Paige didn’t believe that, nor, from the agony in her eyes, did Elena. ‘Tell him I never stopped believing him,’ Elena begged, her voice almost inaudible. ‘
Tell him
.’

‘I will. I promise. But you have to promise to hold on.’ Behind her the ambulance screeched to a halt and she heard the slamming of doors and pounding of feet.

‘Miss, you have to move,’ someone from behind her ordered. ‘Control your dog.’

She glanced over her shoulder to see Peabody standing between her and a gathering crowd of onlookers, his teeth bared. But before she could move, she heard a whine like a mosquito and Elena’s hand went limp. Horrified, Paige stumbled back.

There was a hole in Elena’s forehead that hadn’t been there before.