[18]

TUESDAY, 3:30 PM

Haley arrived early at the coffee shop, got her drink, and chose a seat near the door so she could watch for Steven—and anything else she might need to see. Keeping her back against the wall kept her stress level manageable. Christina stayed in her vehicle watching the area. Which left Haley free to think about her actions.

What had possessed her to text Steven? Why was she so drawn to him? What was it about him that caused her to visualize things like dates and romance?

She had to be losing her mind. That was all it was. Having been shot at three times in the last few days had simply caused her to have some sort of brain malfunction, because she’d sworn off men when she’d left G2 and hadn’t regretted it one bit since.

Until now.

She pressed a hand to her side where the stitches pulled when she moved carelessly. That wound was minor compared to the broken heart she’d suffered when Dylan had betrayed her. He’d taken her love and trust and crushed it like a soda can.

The door opened and she eyed the person who entered. The baseball cap hid his features while he looked from side to side, as though casing the store. Haley stiffened, her hand going to her weapon while she watched him. She scanned his clothing, looking for a gun, a knife, anything.

A young twentysomething blonde entered behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. He leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the lips.

Haley blew out a breath and released her gun. “You’ve really got to chill,” she muttered.

And she would. Eventually.

The door opened again and Steven stepped inside. He spotted her immediately. She lifted her cup and indicated he should go ahead and order. He nodded. Her phone buzzed. She looked down to find a text from a strange number.

The man in the trunk was killed because of you. His name is Gerald Forsythe. Stop your search into the past or more will die. Their blood is on your hands. Enjoy your coffee.

Haley didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. She simply stared at the text. Was he watching the store now? Or had he waited until he’d driven away before sending the message?

She texted Christina.

Do you see anyone sitting in their car in the parking lot besides you?

Christina

No. Why?

Forwarding you a text I just got

She sent it. Then typed a text to the anonymous number.

I’m not drinking coffee.

Steven joined her. “Everything okay?”

She shook her hot chocolate and took a swig. “My stalker has returned.” She showed him the text.

He pulled his phone from the clip on his belt. “I’ll get someone out here.”

She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Don’t bother. He’s not here anymore. He’s just letting me know he’s watching.” She drew in a breath. “You can run the number and see what it turns up, but I’m guessing it’s a throwaway phone.”

“Probably, but we’ll try it.” She gave him the number and he sent it into cyberspace to someone he worked with.

“Also, can you run the name Gerald Forsythe? I could, but I would need to go into the office. I don’t have the software on my phone.”

“Sure. We can go out to my car and do it.”

“Great.” They rose and walked out of the coffee shop. Haley kept her attention focused on the area around them, and she knew Christina was watching as well. Steven unlocked his car, then started it, letting the air conditioning wash over them. He pulled the laptop around to him and began his search. “Gerald Forsythe.”

“Right.”

“There’s a Gerald Forsythe who’s been reported missing out of Virginia. Says he last checked in with his wife the Saturday before we found the body in the trunk. Officer Gerald Forsythe.”

“He’s a cop?”

“A decorated one.”

“You have a picture of him?”

He turned the screen so she could see it and she studied the man. It was a professional photograph. He sat straight, eyes facing the camera and full lips slightly tilted upward. He looked like a man who could take care of himself. Only someone had killed him. Maybe. “We need to see if we can get a DNA comparison.”

“Wait a minute. Look at his left hand,” Steven said.

“Okay, what am I looking at?”

“Is that an actual ring on his fourth finger or a tattoo?”

She squinted and moved the screen closer. “I can’t tell. Let me call Francisco.”

“Oh yeah, the medical examiner. I met him my first day on the job. He’s quite a character, isn’t he?”

“To say the least.”

“He was doing sit-ups when Quinn and I walked in.”

“He’s moved on from push-ups since he broke the world record.”

“Right.”

Haley had Francisco on speed dial. She listened to the line ring and got his voice mail. She hung up and dialed his cell phone.

“I’ve got a spleen in my left hand and a scalpel in my right. You’re on speakerphone.”

Relief flowed at hearing him answer. “Thanks for picking up, it’s kind of urgent.”

“It’s always urgent with you people.”

“I’ll tell your boss you deserve another raise.”

“If it’s as much as last time, I’m hanging up.”

“No, no, don’t do that. Is one of your assistants with you?” Haley knew both, but didn’t know which one was working with him today.

“Of course. Nan is right here.”

“Ask Nan to go check the left hand of the John Doe that was brought in Sunday night. The guy from the trunk. Ask her if he’s got a tattoo around the ring finger that would wear a wedding band.”

“A tattoo?”

“Yes.”

“She doesn’t have to check. I remember. His hands were covered in blood when he arrived.”

“Well, he had them tucked under his cheek when his face was blown off.”

“That would do it. Anyway, once I got him cleaned up, I removed his personal effects, and yes, there’s a tattoo there. It’s a band and it just says ‘Forever’ on it.”

Haley sucked in a breath and met Steven’s gaze. “Okay, then your John Doe now has a name.”

“Really? What would that be?”

“Gerald Forsythe.”

“Will you be notifying his next of kin?”

“Someone will. Thanks, Francisco.”

“I’ll be looking for that raise.”

She let out a low laugh and hung up. Then turned serious while sadness gripped her. “It’s him,” she told Steven.

“I gathered.” He tapped a few times on his screen.

“Are you letting Quinn know?”

“Yes.” He finished and tucked the phone back into its clip on his belt.

“So,” she said. “Gerald Forsythe. Who is he—other than a decorated cop? Why was he in South Carolina and why did someone kill him and say I’m the reason he’s dead? What’s his connection to me?”

“All good questions.”

“I hate questions. I want answers.” Her phone vibrated and she glanced at the message and gasped. “Maddy said it’s my grandfather. An ambulance is taking him to the hospital.”

“What happened?”

“She didn’t give me details, but I’ve got to head over there.”

“Of course.”

His phone buzzed and he pulled it off the clip again. “Uh-oh.”

“What?” She paused half in, half out of the car.

“Richie gave his tail the slip.”

Steven fell in behind Christina and Haley as they made their way to the hospital. He’d offered to drive her, but she’d already been climbing into her Hummer. His phone rang and he pressed the button that would allow the Bluetooth to activate his speakers. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Quinn.”

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been working on Haley’s case.”

“Join the club.”

A sigh reached him. “You’re not going to believe this, but I don’t think Richie’s behind everything. He could have hired the people to do the shooting, but he’s also got an air-tight alibi. He wasn’t at Haley’s house shooting up her bed, he was caught on video camera knocking over a convenience store. Needless to say, we have a warrant out for his arrest.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Why would he knock over a convenience store? He’s got minions who do stuff like that.”

“Whatever the reason, he did it.”

“All right, then I guess we need to go in another direction.”

“Looks like. One other thing, Steven.”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . uh . . . did some background checking on Haley’s grandfather and Hugh McCort.”

Uh-oh. “And?”

“Her grandfather came back clean as a whistle. His friend did too. Sort of.”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?” He made a left, then a right, staying on Haley’s bumper.

“McCort has used the same bank in Ireland for the past forty-some-odd years. His son banked there as well before his death. Three days before the attack on the castle, someone deposited the equivalent of twenty grand in that account. The son’s, not McCort’s. While I was investigating the elder McCort, I figured I would just check the whole family. I looked in the investigative report and there was no mention of investigating McCort’s son, who wasn’t even in the city at the time of the attack. They checked into the elder McCort, of course, but according to the report, he was cleared two days after the attack.”

Steven let out a low whistle as he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. “How did you get that information so quickly?”

“I have a connection who has a connection.”

“So, McCort has a son?”

“Yes, Connor McCort. He was twenty-three years old when the attack happened and he died two days after.”

“What happened?”

“Suicide.”

“Oh. Whoa.”

“Yeah. Two days after that, McCort closed his son’s account and a large deposit was made into the senior McCort’s account.”

“How much?”

“Lots and lots of Irish pounds. The equivalent of twenty grand.”

“Wow. Okay, that’s a lot of money, especially twenty-five years ago. Can you trace where it was spent?”

“No, and don’t have to anyway. It’s been sitting there since the day he deposited it.”

“You think McCort’s son had something to do with the attack after all? Then, out of remorse and guilt, killed himself?”

“It’s possible. I think Hugh McCort’s the only one who knows for sure.”

“Then we need to ask him.”

“You want to tell Haley or you want me to?” Quinn asked.

Haley parked in one of the law enforcement slots that provided the most protection for her to make her way into the building. Steven pulled behind her. He watched her check the mirrors. “I’ll tell her. She’ll want to be the one to talk to McCort. He’ll probably be here with Haley’s grandfather.”

“Good enough. I’m going back to it.”

“Later.” He hung up and climbed out of his car to join Christina, who was using binoculars to scan the area across the street.

After a moment, she nodded to Haley, and Haley slid out on the passenger side closest to the entrance. They made their way into the hospital and Haley paused just inside the entrance. “I want to check on my grandfather, then let’s look in on Micah.”

“I heard from Quinn on the way here. Got an update for you,” Steven said.

“I’m very worried about what Richie’s going to do next. I need to make sure Belinda understands the seriousness of his actions. And then there’s Duncan.”

“Yes. And then there’s Duncan.”

She went straight to the information desk with Christina hovering nearby. “I need to know the status of a patient who was brought in,” Haley said. “His name is Ian Burke.”

The woman turned to her computer. After a few clicks, she looked up. “They are running tests on him right now.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She turned away and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Want to check on Micah now?”

“Sure.”

On the elevator ride up to Micah’s floor, Steven told Haley and Christina about his conversation with Quinn, covering Richie’s alibi and warrant, then briefly touching on Hugh McCort and his son. Haley let him talk without interrupting, even as her expression got tighter and tighter. When they stepped off the elevator, she shook her head. “All right, we’ll deal with that little bit of information about Hugh shortly. Let’s take care of one thing at a time.”

They walked down the hallway to Micah’s room. The officer at the door checked their ID and waved them in. Belinda sat next to Micah holding his hand while Zeke reclined on the window seat watching television with Laila beside him. Zeke sat up when they entered.

“How’s he doing?” Haley walked to the bed and ran a hand over his head. He didn’t move.

Belinda sighed. “Not good. He’s sleeping a lot more. I think he’s really running out of time. The doctor told me he wouldn’t be leaving here until he had a new heart or . . .” She swallowed and looked away.

Or he died. Steven understood the unspoken words.

Zeke stood and paced to the door, then back to the window seat. “I want to go to the center today. You think that would be all right?”

Haley hesitated, then said, “Laila, you go with him. Christina can stay here with Belinda and Micah. I’ll try to stop by the center soon.”

“Of course,” Laila said. “Let’s take the back stairs.”

“Why?” Zeke asked.

“Precaution.”

She and Zeke walked out of the room. Belinda’s shoulders sagged. Steven met Haley’s eyes and she tilted her head toward the door. He got the message. “I’m going to grab a snack,” he said. “I’ll bring you guys something.”

Christina opened the door. “And I’ll just be out here with the officer keeping an eye out for Richie.”

“Thanks,” Haley said. “I won’t be but a few minutes and then I want to check on my grandfather.” She paused. “Actually, do you mind seeing what you can find out about him?”

“Sure,” Steven said and shut the door behind him. He turned and came face-to-face with Richie, now sporting dreadlocks.

“Richie Derrick, fancy meeting you here. You’re under arrest.” Steven reached for his weapon.

Richie’s hand shot out to grab a young woman who had the misfortune to choose that moment to exit the room nearest Micah’s, then pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed it at his startled hostage’s head. “Get out of my way, cop.”

Haley heard Richie’s order just as the door clicked shut. Next she heard screams and a heavy crash.

Micah’s eyes fluttered open. “What’s going on?”

“It’s okay, baby,” Belinda said. She looked at Haley and raised her brows.

“Put the weapon down, Richie! Let her go!” Steven’s command came from the hall.

She heard Belinda’s startled gasp. “Richie?”

“Call 911,” Haley ordered and pulled her weapon. “He’s not getting in here.”

“Zeke,” Belinda whispered.

Haley dared a quick glance at her phone. “Laila didn’t call or text, so they missed him by seconds. Zeke’s safe.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe she couldn’t text or call. Maybe he’s already killed them.”

She rushed to the door and Haley caught her arm to pull her back. “Don’t. Please. Trust Laila to do her job and protect Zeke. Get back and stay near Micah.” Belinda’s nostrils flared and for a moment Haley feared she’d ignore her. “Please,” Haley said. “Trust me. Trust us.”

Belinda did as requested and Haley walked to the door.

“Belinda!” Richie called out. “You come out here!”

“Put the gun down!”

“Put it down!”

Steven and Christina were shouting orders and Richie was obviously not obeying.

Haley stayed ready at the door. They would take him down out there or she would do what she had to do if he managed to get the door open.

It was a standoff. Steven held his gun steady on Richie, who had his back against the wall. Richie clutched his weapon in a deadly grip against the trembling woman’s temple, using her as a shield. If Steven had had a clear shot, he’d have taken it, but Richie had moved fast and Steven simply couldn’t take a chance that he’d miss.

The dreadlocks wig, dark sunglasses, and long sleeves to cover the tattoos had effectively disguised him and allowed him to slip past those looking for a bald man covered in tattoos.

“Richie, think about this,” Steven said.

“I already thought about it.”

“What’s going on inside you right now? I want to help.”

“Help?” He laughed—and actually seemed amused. “Dude, the only thing you want to do is end this.”

“Well, sure, that would be nice.”

Richie grinned. “But you ain’t getting what you want. Right now, it’s all about me.”

“It’s not too late. You haven’t hurt anyone.” He wouldn’t mention the convenience store robbery again. No sense in reminding him. “All right, it’s all about you. Tell me what I can do so that no one gets hurt.”

Richie grinned at him again, his eyes hard, cold black pits. “You think I care if anyone gets hurt? You think I even care? Belinda, get out here! Now!” He focused back on Steven. “No woman treats me like Belinda and gets away with it, you understand?”

He understood, all right. Richie had no intention of letting Belinda live to see another day. He had no doubt this was a murder-suicide in the making, so what did he care if he took a few more innocent lives in the process? “Richie, I’m sorry, but she’s not coming out here. She has a bodyguard right next to her and you know there’s no way she’s going to be allowed to come out that door.”

Security burst onto the scene and Richie didn’t even spare them a look. “Belinda!” The woman struggled against him. “Be still!” He popped the gun against her head hard enough to make her cry out but not go unconscious.

Officers converged and started clearing as many people as they could from the area. “I’m not going. I got patients to take care of,” Steven heard one nurse say. “He’s not interested in me. He wants someone named Belinda.” Her voice faded as she was escorted from the area along with everyone else.

Richie continued to holler her name and cast threats against her children if she didn’t “get your sorry self out here.”

Steven prayed Haley would be able to keep the woman inside until Richie could either be talked down or contained. Or killed. He kept an eye on Richie’s trigger finger. It hovered too close for comfort. One wrong move, too much pressure, a slip of his finger, and the woman would die. He met her terrified gaze. “What’s your name?”

“L-Lisa.”

“Richie, that’s Lisa you’ve got there.”

“You think I care about her name?”

He didn’t. That was the problem. He had one goal. To kill Belinda and whoever got in his way of doing so.

“All right, Lisa,” Steven said, “just stay calm, okay?”

“Shut up, cop,” Richie said. “I’m giving the orders around here.”

“Of course, Richie. But Lisa didn’t do anything to you. She never knew you existed until this moment.” He looked at her. “Do you have children?”

“Y-yes. Two. A boy and a girl,” she whispered.

“Richie, you hear that? Lisa’s a mother.” He used her name as much as he could, hoping she would become a real person to Richie, not just a means to an end.

“Of course I heard that, cop. I’m standing right here. Now shut up. Belinda!”

He pressed the gun harder against his hostage’s head, and she winced, her frantic gaze locked on Steven’s.

Richie took a step away, then another, keeping his back against the wall. He stopped. “I don’t care who I hurt right now. Enough talking. You’re starting to make me mad. Get Belinda out here. Belinda!”

Steven spared a quick glance around the now deserted area. Cops were hidden, the hostage negotiator on the way, the sniper probably searching for the best shot. He glanced down the hallway. Yeah, a sniper would have a chance with the window at the end. It would have to be some kind of amazing shot, but it was doable. And that’s where the shot would have to come from.

Steven drew in a steadying breath. He had to keep him talking until they managed to get a negotiator on the scene. “Richie, think about this.”

“I told you, I done thought about it. Now move! Belinda!”

“You have kids?” Christina asked, her voice soft, almost soothing.

Richie blinked. “What? No, I don’t have kids.” He smirked. “I was going to adopt Micah and Zeke, wasn’t I, Belinda? Was going to treat them like my own. I even called them my sons. But not anymore!” He directed his shouts to the room that held Belinda. Then turned his sneer back on Christina. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you believe in God? Or a higher power?”

Richie froze. Steven let her take the lead. As long as Richie was talking, he wasn’t hurting anyone. Although his hostage might have a nasty bruise where the barrel was gouging into her head, he figured she’d be all right with that. A bruise was better than a bullet.

“Why you want to know that?” The sweat on his forehead ran down his temples and dripped from the side of his jaw. “You think you going to send me on a guilt trip?”

“No, just curious. I do. Believe, that is. I mean, I didn’t used to, but once I started seeing a lot of people die, it sort of made me rethink things. Rethink God.”

Richie eyed her like she was crazy, but Steven could tell she’d captured his interest. “Who’d you see die?”

“My targets.”

Richie huffed, still ignoring the police presence, still with his back against the wall, and still holding the weapon like he meant business. “What targets?”

“I was a sniper for a special ops group. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“A sniper?” He laughed. “Ain’t no women snipers out there.”

“Of course there are. Google it. But it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I have no doubt that a sniper has a bead on you even as we speak. This is your last chance to give it up before you die.”

Steven winced. He wouldn’t have said that. It was antagonizing, pushing the man. Had she pushed too far?

Richie’s eyes darted to her, then back to the door. “I’m in a hallway with a hostage. No one’s going to shoot me. Now stop talking. Belinda! I’m going to start killing people if you don’t get yourself out here now!”

“Richie! Stop! Just stop.” Belinda’s voice came from behind Steven. He darted a quick glance at her and saw Haley picking herself up off the floor, a dark look on her face and a hand pressed to her still-healing side. Belinda pushed past Steven and he caught her. She jerked away from him and Steven caught her again in a tighter grip.

“I can’t let you go to him,” he said.

“You can’t stop me.”

Richie’s lips curved in a grimace of evil that made Steven want to pray.

“Belinda, get back in the room and shut the door,” Haley said.

“No,” she whispered, “I can’t. I can’t let him hurt someone else just because I’ve been stupid. I’ve made a lot of bad choices in my life and all I do is hurt people.”

“Belinda,” Steven said, “now isn’t the time. Let us handle Richie.”

“You heard him, he’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill my boys.”

“He’s going to kill you both if you don’t get back.”

“Get over here, Belinda,” Richie said. “You get over here and I won’t shoot this nice lady.” He took the gun from her temple and pointed it at Steven. “Let go of her or die, cop.”

“I’m sorry,” Belinda whispered with an agonized look between Haley, Steven, and the madman with a gun. “Take care of my boys for me.” She tried to pull away from Steven once again, taking another step toward Richie when the window at the end of the hall exploded and Richie’s face disappeared in a mist of red.