Silent Weapon (19 page)

I stumbled back to my feet and started moving again. No way could I slow down considering what I now understood. We weren’t meant to survive the accident. One way or the other, I couldn’t be permitted to see Hammond again…to tell him what I knew.

And all this time I’d worried that working undercover for the police would get me killed. Who would have thought that getting too close to a kid would present the most danger?

It was almost dark and Tiffany was getting more frightened by the moment before we found our way to any sort of civilization.

The road was a small, curving one that likely connected at some point to the road coming down the mountain that led from the prestigious Ledges. We’d reached the valley, and judging by the power lines overhead there would be houses somewhere on this road. All I had to do was find one with a telephone.

Tiffany was restless in my arms. I reassured her over and over, but even I had grown anxious about my ability to get us through this.

After another half hour or so I saw rectangular blocks of light in the distance. Windows. A house. My pace picked up, despite the exhaustion clawing at me.

As I neared I could see an old model Ford truck in the driveway. It was too dark to make out the color. The house was more like a cabin, wooden siding, small and all alone on the road for as far as I could see. But lots of light poured from the unobscured windows.

I hesitated a moment before climbing the porch steps to consider what I would say. Tiff shivered in my arms. I hugged her closer, hoping to warm her with my own body heat. The night was unseasonably cool.

Finally, I gathered my courage and knocked on the door. I had to knock again before the porch light came on, making me blink. The door swung inward and an older man, maybe seventy-five or eighty, peered out at me.

If you’re selling something I’m not interested.

Like I’d be selling anything at this time of night. I pushed a smile into place. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir.” I shifted Tiffany to a different position to call his attention to her. “My car broke down. Do you mind if I use your phone?” God, please let him have a phone. “My little girl’s tired and scared, and to be honest, so am I.”

He looked from me to the child and back.
Come on in.

Following him inside, I felt fragile with the overwhelming relief. I’d give most anything right now for a drink of water. Tiffany was likely thirsty as well. I didn’t know how far we’d walked.

Phone’s over there.
The man gestured to a table near the sofa, then he swung a suspicious stare back at me.
It’s not long distance, is it?

I didn’t think it was, but I couldn’t be sure until I tried it. Hell, I didn’t even know where we were.

“I’ll be happy to pay you if it is.”

He glanced at my arms, probably noting I didn’t have a purse since I’d left it on the ground where Tiff had taken her comfort break, but he nodded his okay.

I lowered Tiffany to the floor but kept her hand firmly tucked into mine. She tugged on it when I would have headed for the phone. I looked down at her.

I’m thirsty.

I glanced at the man who waited nearby, dividing his attention between us and the television. Considering the program I’d interrupted, I estimated the time at around eight-thirty.

“Is it all right if she has some water?”

He nodded and trudged out of the room. To get the water, I presumed. I looked around and found a clock that confirmed my estimation of the time. Hammond would know something was wrong by now.

I sat down on the sofa and picked up the receiver. Another reality broadsided me. I bit back a curse. I couldn’t use this phone.

The old man returned with the water, a glass for Tiff and one for me. I thanked him and covertly took a sip from each glass. Tasted fine. Not that I imagined this old man would have any reason to want to drug either of us, but frankly I was past the point of trusting anyone. I drank until it was gone. When he’d taken the glasses back to the kitchen, I pulled Tiffany into my lap.

“I need you to make this call for me.” I touched my ear. “I can’t hear, you know, and this phone doesn’t have a screen for me to read from.”

Okay.
She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.
You dial the number.

“When the man answers,” I told her before entering the final digit of the number, “ask if it’s Detective Barlow. That’s who I want to talk to.”

Tiff nodded.

I entered the final number and waited, my pulse racing. I couldn’t help wondering if Vargas was still out there trying to pick up our trail.

Tiffany’s eyes told me she’d heard a voice on the other end.
Detective Barlow?
she asked. Her face clouded with confusion and her gaze shot up to mine, but the single word she uttered was what stole my complete attention.
Daddy?

My heart jolted. I knew I’d dialed the number correctly. It should have been Steven Barlow on the other end of the line.

Yes, Miss Merri is here with me.

I wanted to grab the phone from her and demand to know how he’d gotten Barlow’s cell phone…but it would do no good. I couldn’t hear his response.

Tiffany’s eyes widened with fear.
Yes, Daddy, I’ll tell her.
She turned the phone to her shoulder and looked up at me. She swallowed hard, her small throat working anxiously.
Daddy said you’re to bring me to the warehouse on Eighth Avenue right now or your friend Detective Barlow will have to pay your bill.

A new kind of terror exploded inside me. He had Barlow. I couldn’t imagine how…maybe he’d found his private number in my cell phone’s log. Oh, God. Wait, my mind rationalized. Steven Barlow was too smart to fall for any of Hammond’s tricks. And then I knew how he’d gotten trapped…they’d used me as bait, just as they were using him now.

But how could I be certain?

How could I confirm that they even had Barlow with them?

“Tiff, tell your father that I need confirmation.”

She frowned.
What’s confirmation?
She rubbed at her eyes. She was exhausted and confused.
If you owe my dad money I’ll help you pay it back. I have a bunch of money in my piggy bank.

My heart squeezed at her sweet offer. From the corner of my eye I saw the old man watching me. Unlike Tiffany he would know something was amiss, but I couldn’t worry about that right now.

“Thank you, sweetie,” I said gently. “Now, tell your daddy I need confirmation.”

Tiffany did as I instructed. In a few moments another odd look crossed her face. She peered up at me.
I don’t know this voice. It’s a man.

“Ask him if he’s Detective Barlow.”

Tiff asked the question.
He says yes.

But it could be anyone. Tiff wouldn’t know the difference. “Ask him what’s the last thing he said to me.” My heart had climbed into my throat. If they had him…he was as good as dead.

He said that…
She asked him to say it again, then she looked at me.
The two of you have unfinished business.

I went ice cold.

It was him.

Tiffany seemed to be listening again. Confusion had cluttered her face once more when she turned back to me.
He says he has faith in you and that he knows you won’t let him down. You know what to do.

Tears blurred my ability to see, and for the first time since this had begun I wanted to give up. To lie down and cry and admit that I couldn’t do it.

I’d failed.

It’s my daddy again,
Tiff told me.

I braced myself for whatever he had to say next.

He said you have two hours. What does that mean, Miss Merri?

I patted her and managed a shaky smile. “It’s just adult stuff. You tell your daddy I’ll be there but that he should remember I have what he wants.”

Looking uncertain she did as I asked.

A tremulous smile pulled at her lips.
Love you, too. Bye, Daddy.

Tiff handed the phone back to me.
He told me not to tell you this part, but he said he knows where we are and that he’ll send a car for us. My daddy’ll help us.

Oh, God. He’d traced the call. Barlow had told me that Hammond’s people stayed on the cutting edge of technology.

I managed a smile to allay her worries. Telling her now that her father had no intention of saving me would be unconscionable. I patted the sofa. “Sit right here for me a minute, okay?”

She scooted onto the sofa and I moved across the room to where the old man waited, his expression stern and growing more suspicious by the second.

“Sir, I need your help.”

Sounds like you need the police,
he countered.

“We don’t have time,” I said with as much urgency as I could infuse into my voice and still keep it low enough so Tiff wouldn’t hear. “There are very bad men on their way here right now. I’m sorry I’ve brought this trouble to your door, but they traced the call.” I lowered my voice some more. “They want to hurt us. I need to borrow your truck.”

His gaze narrowed.
I don’t let anyone else drive my truck.

“Then would you drive us to a safe place?”

He looked past me at the child sitting quietly on his sofa.
What kinda trouble you two in?

“Please, sir, I don’t have time to explain.”

For three beats I felt certain he would refuse, but he surprised me. “All right. You take the girl on out there and get in the truck. I’ll get my shotgun.”

I didn’t argue. We could use all the help we could get.

With Tiff’s hand in mine we hurried out to the truck. I loaded her into the middle and dug beneath the cracked vinyl bench seat for the safety belt. Thank God it was a recent-enough model to have a middle seat belt. When I had her buckled in, I climbed in and secured my own belt.

Our cranky old savior opened the driver’s side door and climbed in, as promised, his shotgun in hand. I pulled Tiff against me and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

Before he closed the door, and thankfully while the interior light was still on so I could see, he asked,
Where we going?

I thought of my family, but I needed objectivity right now and I wouldn’t get that from my overprotective brothers or parents. There was only one person I could trust completely and who I could count on for complete objectivity.

Chapter 15

H
elen Golden stared at me as if I’d lost my ever-loving mind.

You’re kidding, right?
She glanced across the room where Tiffany slept on her sofa.
She is Luther Hammond’s child? You’re supposed to be taking training…not cavorting with criminals!

I shushed her. “Don’t wake her up.” Then I ushered my good friend into her cluttered kitchen. She worked and studied far too hard to bother with cleaning. Helen would be the first to admit it. If I lived through this I would owe her big time. Maybe I’d give her a month’s free house cleaning. And I hated housework. “I don’t have time to convince you, Helen. I need your help. Now—” I sucked in a steadying breath “—are you going to help me or not?”

Helen studied my face for precious seconds—time I didn’t have to waste—before committing.
You know I’d do anything for you, Merri. But this.
She shook her head.
This is like the whole Sawyer-Carlyle thing. This is dangerous.

With a resolute nod I confirmed her conclusion. “Very dangerous. But Detective Barlow is a dead man if I’m not at that warehouse in less than one hour. Will you help me or not?”

All right.
She clasped her face with trembling hands for a moment before she relented completely.
Tell me again what you need me to say.

“You call Chief Kent or Adcock, whichever one you can reach. I’ll go to the warehouse,” I began.

In my car,
she interjected.

I gave her a confirming nod. “While I distract Hammond and his henchmen, Chiefs Kent and Adcock can get backup into place.”

Helen shook her head, her expression somber.
This isn’t a good plan, Merri. You can’t go in there alone.

I looked at the digital clock on her microwave. “I have to go.” There was no point in arguing the issue further. I wasn’t going to change her mind. As long as she did what I asked, that’s all that mattered. “Give me fifteen minutes head start, then make that call. Don’t let Tiffany out of your sight.”

Though my friend and co-worker didn’t protest further, I knew she didn’t really want to let me do this. I went back into the living room and left a kiss on the sleeping child’s forehead. I couldn’t risk waking her. I wasn’t sure I could leave her if she cried.

And I had to go.

Steven Barlow’s life depended upon me.

At the door Helen put her hand on my arm. When I met her gaze once more I saw the fear there.
Please be careful, Merri.

“I’ll do my best.” I started to go, to leave it at that, but I couldn’t. “Listen, Helen, do me a favor. If this turns out badly, be sure to let my family know how much I love them and that I’ve always known deep down how proud they are of me.”

I left before she could respond. I hurried out to her car, working hard to see past the tears blurring my vision. There was no turning back now.

The next move was mine.

The downtown section of Nashville’s Eighth Avenue was mostly fashionable offices and antique malls. But at this time of night it was pretty much Deadsville. Most of the nightlife was played out a few blocks away on Second Avenue, where Tootsie’s and the Wildhorse Saloon, among numerous others, kept Music City rocking until the wee hours of the morning on most any given night.

I parked Helen’s car in a public garage just off Second Avenue and walked the rest of the way. If I didn’t make it through this I didn’t want Hammond to be able to track down Tiffany by locating the owner of the vehicle I’d arrived in. Jed Moffet, the man who’d driven Tiff and I into town, had offered to give me his shotgun, but I’d never fired a weapon in my life and I doubted it would prove useful for me.

After he’d dropped us at a convenience store, I’d called Helen to come and pick us up. If any of Hammond’s friends tracked down Jed, I didn’t want him to be able to give away our location. He would only know where he’d left us. I’d suggested he not go back home tonight, but the old man seemed pretty set in his ways so I couldn’t be sure what he would do. I was scrambling here to make contingencies to cover all the bases. I’d learned that the hard way while tracking Sawyer.

Now, as I stood on the sidewalk opposite the building, which actually wasn’t a warehouse per se—it was a posh antiques store of about ten thousand square feet called the Warehouse. Evidently Hammond owned it.

I sent one final prayer heavenward and did the only thing left I could do. I crossed the street and walked straight up to the front door. It was locked.

Startled and frustrated, I turned to go around back but someone grabbed my arm before I took my first step.

I whirled around and came face-to-face with Mason Conrad.

He glanced at my waist, probably looking for the PDA.

“I can read your lips,” I told him. No need to keep up the pretense.

He looked at my lips a moment, then into my eyes. The cold, unfeeling stare I’d expected, to my surprise, was filled with disappointment.

Where is Tiffany?

I tried to pull free of his hold, but his grip only tightened. “She’s safe.”

His jaw tightened, and the cold, emotionless mask I’d initially expected fell into place.
You know he’s going to kill you, don’t you?

A new wave of fear washed over me, but I stood firm. I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t back down now. “Yes.”

His expression as unyielding as granite, he unlocked the door and hauled me inside, then quickly locked the glass entry doors behind us. Beyond the front of the ritzy shop, the interior looked dark and deserted, but Hammond would be here somewhere. Conrad escorted me deeper into the consuming gloom, away from the plate-glass windows that allowed some amount of light from street lamps to filter inside. I scarcely noticed the venues of ancient collectibles on either side of the path he cut.

I blinked and squinted in an attempt to force my eyes to adjust to the lack of light as we moved deeper into the building, but I still couldn’t see well enough to have any clue what lay more than two or three feet before me. He paused, fidgeted with something…I felt his arms moving, then he slid a large warehouse-type door open.

He dragged me beyond it and then ushered the massive door back into place.

Turning me to the left, he propelled me forward, toward a pool of light where Hammond waited.

My heart jolted as I recognized Barlow lashed to a chair. His face was bloody and bruised, one eye looked badly swollen. He managed a smile in spite of his split lip, and I had to fight back the tears crowding into my eyes. They were going to kill him.

Conrad grabbed my chin and forced my gaze toward Luther Hammond’s furious face.

Where is my daughter?
he demanded. The ability to hear was not necessary. The harshness of his demand was etched into every line and angle of his face.

I steeled myself and refused to allow him to see just how frightened I was. “She’s safe.”

Vargas stood behind Hammond, but I didn’t see any sign of Cecilia. There were other guards about, loitering in the shadows beyond the pool of light where we faced off.

The slightest twitch of Hammond’s hand and one of the guards stepped in front of the chair where Barlow had been secured. The first blow that landed against the detective’s already-damaged jaw had my knees giving way beneath me. Conrad made sure I stayed on my feet.

“Stop!” I cried. I felt the hot burn of tears streaming down my cheeks, felt the churn of terror twisting in my throat. “Please,” I begged. I couldn’t let them do this. I had to do something…however futile it would be in the end.

Another of those insignificant twitches from Hammond and the guard backed off.

Tell me two things,
Hammond said,
and I will make both your deaths as quick and painless as possible.

I stood there for one infinitesimal moment and tried to reason what he’d said with what I knew about him. This was a man who went to extraordinary means to help children. One who gave generously of his great wealth. A man who loved his daughter unconditionally. One who’d been kind to me. How could he be this evil?

Where is my daughter?
he repeated.
And what did you learn while in my employ?

Hammond’s head jerked toward Barlow. I looked just in time to catch his final words…
didn’t learn anything.
He was trying to protect me, but I knew, as well as he did, that it wouldn’t do any good.

At precisely that moment I realized what a mistake I’d made believing I could do this. It took a special breed of human being to do undercover cop work, a person who wasn’t missing anything so vital as one of the five senses. My out-of-control curiosity and determination was about to cost Steven Barlow his life. Oddly, I didn’t exactly feel defeated. I felt, for the first time in two years, like I finally knew who I was. I could stand up and be counted with or without the ability to hear. I might never get a chance to tell my family they were right, but I could do my very best to save Barlow from the danger I’d put him in with my overenthusiastic need to prove myself.

“He’s lying to protect me,” I said.

Hammond’s gaze swung back to me. He smiled.
Really? In that case, tell me what you learned?

“Let him go and I’ll tell you everything, even the parts he doesn’t know just yet.”

Hammond laughed.
Don’t be naive, Merri. Your detective friend isn’t going to walk out of here alive any more than you are. You should know that. Metro needs to learn that I don’t appreciate their futile attempts to get to me. You’d think they would have learned their lesson by now.

I wondered if his reference was to the others who’d died trying to get info on him, maybe even Tiff’s mother for becoming involved with a cop. Or his own daughter’s godfather for getting too close to the very child he’d vowed to love and protect. I glanced at Barlow. The way he looked at me, as if the idea that I was about to be hurt was nearly more than he could bear. To his way of thinking I would be the second woman who’d died by Hammond’s hand for being involved with him. So not true. My destiny had, I suddenly realized, always been my own choice.

Conrad snatched my chin and jerked my face forward.

Make this easy on yourself,
Hammond suggested.
Answer my questions and we’ll dispense with this unpleasantness here and now.

“Don’t you know,” I challenged, “that letting him live will be far more damaging than killing him?”

Hammond laughed, his features falling into the kind smile I’d witnessed so many times.
My, my, Miss Merri, but you truly are a hero, aren’t you?
His expression abruptly morphed into one of hate-filled savagery.
Now answer my questions!

As if the Good Lord had suddenly sent me a message of salvation, I knew exactly what to say. “I learned that your West Coast contact, Mathers, is coming for a little visit.”

Hammond’s gaze narrowed.

“And you plan to kill him, take him out of the scenario. Tomorrow night at eight o’clock. I even know the location. So does Metro. So you’ll have to reschedule unless you want to be caught.”

His penetrating stare was nothing short of lethal.
Anything else?

“Just one thing,” I confessed. I turned to Mason Conrad and said this part in his ear so no one else could hear. “Vargas and Cecilia are working with Mathers. Your boss is supposed to die tonight in Mathers’s stead. I swear this is the truth.”

I drew away from him just in time to catch Hammond’s demand to know what I’d said.

My gaze cut to Conrad to see if he responded. He did.

She said her only regret was that she hadn’t taken me up on my offer.
Conrad shrugged.
She must be nuts, too.

Why was he lying?

Vargas came up beside his boss.
She doesn’t know anything. Let’s just get this over with. We’ll find your daughter. She can’t have left her that far away. If she’s got family or friends, we’ll find the kid with them.

Fear for my family joined the mix of emotions churning inside me.

“Actually, I do know more,” I cut in, hoping I sounded hateful and not terrified. My words jerked Hammond’s as well as Vargas’s attention back to me. I felt Conrad’s fingers tighten on my elbow but I ignored him, couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want me to spill this part. I smiled at Vargas, whose face clearly gave away his discomfort. Somehow he suspected I was about to tell on him. “Why don’t you come clean with the boss yourself, Mr. Vargas? Save him from hearing it from me. You can blame the whole thing on Cecilia. I’m certain she can be rather persuasive. It wasn’t your fault you got caught up in her web of deceit.”

Confusion claimed Hammond’s face. “What the hell is she talking about?”

Everything happened at once then.

Vargas swung his weapon in my direction. Hammond ranted at him.

Barlow’s chair toppled over at the same instant that a brief burst of fire flickered from the business end of Vargas’s gun.

Mason Conrad shoved me to the floor.

Some remote part of my brain wondered why help hadn’t arrived. I tried to assimilate what had just happened but the bloom of crimson on the white shirt Mason Conrad wore stole my full attention.

I struggled onto my hands and knees and hurried to see how badly he was hurt. I was vaguely aware of the scuffle going on beyond me. Felt more than saw the fierce movements. Barlow was shouting at me. In my peripheral vision I saw his mouth moving, his eyes wide with fear or worry, but I couldn’t deal with that right now.

Mason Conrad had been shot…had taken a bullet intended for me.

Mason stared up at me. He blinked once, swore.

Instinct kicked in. I tore open his shirt and attempted to stanch the flow of blood. The wound was low on the abdomen. Lots of blood.

Damn.

I needed to call for help.

Suddenly I was on the floor again. My face pressed against the oiled hardwood.

I felt the weight of Mason Conrad’s body on mine.