CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

When Paige returned to the office three hours later, Sam was getting back as well. He parked beside her van then joined her on the driver’s side as she opened the vehicle door.

The day had turned cold and dark again. Sam’s hair was mussed as if he’d recently run his fingers through it. The knot of his tie was loose.

She joined him on the asphalt. “Brutal meeting?”

Sam’s mouth tightened, then he leaned in close and kissed her. “All forgotten now that I’m with you.”

Paige held him closer, kissed him deeper then rested her cheek against his suit jacket, beneath the overcoat he’d left open. “Want to talk about it?”

Sam’s mouth went tight again. “I’ve talked it to death. Where are you coming from?”

Paige looked up at Sam. “I went to speak with the owners of the houses Corbett robbed. Hendershot’s watch didn’t come from any of them. I’m sure of it. Since Corbett would not have kept Hendershot’s watch for any length of time, we know he must have acquired it recently, which means he did not rob only those three houses at that time, Sam.”

“Okay. Corbett was already in that neighborhood. He could have hit another house there or decided not to push his luck and moved on to another location.”

“No way a judge or the residents will allow us access to check out every house in that neighborhood for forced entry.”

“No. We’re looking for a needle in a haystack. We need another way to find out where else he went.” Sam’s gaze hardened. “Whoever had that watch before Adams, before Corbett, got it from Hendershot directly. Killed Hendershot. I couldn’t find one lead then. We have a lead now. Hendershot’s killer fucked up by keeping the watch. He should have destroyed it. I don’t know why he didn’t.”

“The killer keeping the watch as a trophy to relive Hendershot’s murder doesn’t fit in this case. We’re not dealing with a serial killer. But you don’t think he kept the watch for any particular reason. You think he made a mistake.”

“Yes.”

They began walking toward the building.

Paige said, “We heard back from Columbia. Garwood’s alibi checks out. Likewise with Doucette and Ledger, nothing there. Though we haven’t linked Adams to Hendershot, he could still be Corbett’s killer. I know you believe the same person killed both, but that may not be the case.”

“We still have time before we need to formally charge Adams.”

They reached the door to the building. Through the window that fronted the lobby, they could see Mrs. Hendershot at her desk.

Sam stopped walking. “How is she today?”

“She appears fine.” Paige gnawed at her lip. “She’s a strong woman but this has shaken her. Everyone has a breaking point. I think we should stay close to her.”

“She won’t make that easy. She’s a private person. Doesn’t let anyone in too far. In the eight years I’ve known her, I still can’t get her to call me Sam.”

Not so long ago, Sam could have been describing Paige with those words. Maybe that was why Paige felt such a kinship to Mrs. Hendershot.

Sam’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen. Paige looked too. A number appeared, but not the name of the caller.

Sam put the phone to his ear. “McKade.”

Paige felt him tense against her.

“Is Agent Wingate all right?” Sam’s voice was low, deadly.

Riley… Now, Paige tensed. Sam must have felt it because he glanced at her and shook his head.

“I can be there in thirty minutes.” Sam ended the call.

“Where are we going?”

“Not us. Me. That was Harmon.”

“Harmon? What does he want?”

Sam frowned. “To meet. Asked me to come alone. Said it’s urgent.”

“Why the secrecy?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.”

* * *

 

Sam slowed his truck and made a turn onto a single-lane dirt road. Trees lined both sides and the dark day got a little darker as he drove beneath them.

With the heater humming, Sam couldn’t hear any sounds coming from outside. He turned off the fan. Still quiet. No sounds of a vehicle coming up from behind him. He was early for the meet, had made it before the thirty minutes he’d told Harmon. He drove a short distance more, then saw a green sedan parked in the middle of the road. Harmon had arrived earlier than Sam.

Harmon sat behind the steering wheel and, seeing Sam, got out and rounded the hood. Sam parked a few feet away from the sedan and did the same. “Pete. What’s going on?”

Harmon’s hand rested on his gun, holstered on his belt.

Sam hadn’t questioned Harmon’s choice of location but now it struck Sam that it was eerily similar to the road where Martin Hendershot had been killed. No, they weren’t in Haldonville, but they were at the outskirts of Kirk. Sam felt a trickle of sweat on the back of his neck and moved his own hand to his belt where his gun was.

“I wasn’t sure you would come, Sam,” Harmon said, “or come alone.”

Harmon’s eyes, Sam noted, were trained on him. Harmon had yet to blink. Sam’s heart rate picked up. “I’m growing old waiting to hear why you called me. Urgent, you said.”

“I need to bring you in on something unofficially. You, not the Bureau, not yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

Harmon’s hand fell away from his gun and to his side. “There’s something going on in my precinct. I don’t know who’s behind it, or if it’s more than one. All I do know is that I can’t trust my own people right now.”

“Go on.”

“Money’s gone missing from lock up. Drugs, too. Small amounts that have added up to big amounts over time.”

“How much time and money?”

Harmon didn’t answer the question and said instead, “I will take care of this in-house. I don’t want your boys and girls swarming in and taking over, but I need someone outside to know what’s happening.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at the implication that Harmon may not be around to tell of this himself. “If you think it’s that bad, you need to bring the Bureau in.”

“No!” Harmon pointed at Sam. “I’ll say it again in case you aren’t getting it. The Bureau stays out. I’ll let you know.”

Harmon turned away from Sam and walked back to his own vehicle. He gunned the engine, then, tires kicking up dirt and dust, drove away.

 

* * *

 

Unable to focus on work, Paige walked to the lobby for what felt like the hundredth time since Sam left to meet with Harmon. Ignoring the curious look Mrs. Hendershot gave her, Paige went to the double glass doors yet again.

The cold glass fogged with her breath and Paige realized she was leaning too close to the door. Backing up a bit, she exhaled a sharp, worried breath. Sam had been gone for less than an hour, and he was meeting the police chief. Then why was her stomach knotted as tight as piano wire?

Harmon. It was because Sam was meeting Harmon about something that Harmon wouldn’t disclose until they were face-to-face. It could be something pertaining to the Corbett investigation, something that would free Riley. God, she hoped so. But if so, why not tell Sam straight out?

Her stomach knotted further. Paige knew Sam didn’t like Harmon, trusted him less. She glanced back at the clock mounted on the wall behind Mrs. Hendershot’s desk. As she noted the hands on the clock marking the hour, Sam’s truck pulled in to the lot.

She’d overreacted. He was fine. She smiled, grinned wide like a fool, thrilled that all of the drama had just been in her head.

Sam opened the door and she stepped back for him to enter the lobby.

“Anything going on here?” he asked.

“Nothing new. How did it go?”

“He says something’s going on at the precinct. Someone or more than one on the take, skimming from the drug and cash busts. He wants us to be aware of it, but not to assist unless he asks for it. We’ll see.”

But Paige could see Sam had more about this on his mind. “Something more is bothering you about this.”

“Harmon is a hometown boy. Born and raised here. I think he knows more about what’s going on in Kirk than he lets on. If he’s involved, or just standing back and letting it go on, is what I’m questioning.”

“If he is involved, why come to you about this at all?”

Sam took his time responding and before he did, he looked to Mrs. Hendershot, still a distance away at her desk. “I told you that we may be looking for someone who found out what Hendershot had been working on eight years ago, killed him, and covered his tracks. Someone who would know how to do that. A cop would know how.

“Harry thinks Harmon doesn’t want Millhouse and Orr to go on pushing to find Corbett’s killer. Is that because Harmon’s a lazy cop or a dirty one? I know Harmon has a hard-on for the Bureau, but would he use Riley in some kind of bid for revenge?

“As to why he brought me in about the trouble at his station, I’m wondering if it’s meant to be some kind of distraction, something else for me to focus on, to jam me up and take me away from Corbett. But I don’t know. What I do know is that I don’t trust Harmon. I want us to take a deep look at him. The whole nine yards. Including his associates.”

Compiling a complete profile would take several days, Paige knew. “I’ll make the request.”

“You have several messages, sir,” Mrs. Hendershot called out.

Despite voicemail, email, and direct phone lines, Mrs. Hendershot continued to also provide handwritten messages.

Sam crossed the lobby and stopped at her desk to retrieve them. “Thank you.”

Paige joined him there. She inclined her head to the stack. “I’ll let you get to those.”

Sam left and as Paige was about to do the same, Mrs. Hendershot spoke.

“Agent Carson, you have messages as well. These came in when you were out earlier today. I neglected to give them to you when you returned.”

Mrs. Hendershot’s tone was brusque but Paige could hear self-condemnation at her one-time lapse in efficiency. “It’s fine.” Paige assured her. “Thank you.”

Paige glanced at the slips of paper. The first was a message from Ivy’s school about an upcoming parent-teacher conference. Next was a call from the Daily News with a request for an interview about the Corbett murder. Since they couldn’t get an interview from Sam, they’d reached out to her. Paige imagined Harry, Dom, and Mike, had received similar calls. She dropped the note in the trash can by Mrs. Hendershot’s desk.

The last message was from Deputy Associate Deputy Director Biltmore’s office. The message wasn’t hers. It was for Sam. Mrs. Hendershot had obviously given it to Paige by mistake. Another first for the woman. She was struggling today. Paige was sorry for that.

Paige had no intention of reading Sam’s message, intended to just deliver it to him, but she spotted her name.

… schedule a follow-up to this morning’s meeting for two months time with both you and Agent Carson.

Paige felt a chill and then a rush of heat brought on by anger. Moving as quickly as she could, she made her way to Sam’s office. He was seated behind his desk.

“Budget meeting, Sam? Really?”

She tossed the message on to the dark wood surface. His eyes lowered to the paper then rose to hers again.

“When were you going to tell me the truth, that your meeting was about me?” She stared at him. When he remained silent she said, “You weren’t going to.”

“No.”

“I had a right to know.”

“It was my call. If this were about any other agent on my squad, I would have done the same.”

“Would you? I don’t think so. You would have talked with them about it. You didn’t because of our personal relationship.”

Sam’s jaw tightened. “I stand by my decision.”

“I don’t want you carrying me, Sam.”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“You won’t have trouble getting another agent this time.” The words came out bitter. She flung out her arm. “In short order, you’ll have Detective Orr ‘Call me Jason’ sitting in my chair. We both know when it comes to the physicality of the job, I’m not the same.” She choked on the words and had to clear her throat to be able to continue. “That’s the truth.”

“You’re a good agent.”

“Just not a whole one.”

“No one thinks that,” Sam said sharply.

Paige gave a humorless laugh. “The Bureau does and you should have told me that.”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, they had a frosty dinner with Ivy which neither Paige nor Sam ate. After, they went their separate ways. Sam showered in one of the downstairs bathrooms while Paige used the shower in the master bathroom. He had a couch in his office. Would he sleep there?

Hours passed. Paige turned over in bed for what felt like the thousandth time, then heard his footsteps on the stairs.

His voice came out of the dark doorway. “You awake?”

She sat up against the headboard. “Yes.”

He entered the room and sat on the end of the bed. He turned his head toward her. The moon lit this part of the room softly and she could now see him clearly.

Sam’s eyes bore into hers. “My first instinct is to protect you. That’s why I didn’t tell you about my meeting with Biltmore. But I was wrong. I should have.”

She didn’t respond right away and then when she did, the words felt torn from her. “It isn’t only Biltmore.” Tears she wouldn’t let fall burned her eyes. “I feel so helpless, Sam.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“My foot . . . my job . . . going to the supermarket on Sunday when I’d rather go on Saturday. Everything is out of my control.” She clutched the covers tight in her fists needing to hold on to something that wouldn’t slip through her fingers. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t be a cop any longer. It’s what I’ve always wanted.” Her voice trembled and she knew he’d heard it too. “I’m so scared, Sam.” The tears she’d been holding back surged into her eyes. “I’m so scared.”

Sam pulled her close, closer. “Let it out.”

She’d been fighting the fear, denying it for so long, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. Couldn’t keep it inside any longer. She pressed her face against Sam’s shoulder and let the tears come.

Her body shook with the force of her emotion. Sam held her, his arms like steel bands around her. He kissed her hair. “You’re a good agent, one of the best I’ve worked with. This isn’t the end. If it comes to a fight, we’ll fight this.”

Professionally, she would end up taking him down with her. She raised her head from his now damp shirt and looked at him through tear-drenched eyes. “I won’t drag you into this mess with me.”

He took her wet face in one large hand. His eyes blazed. “You’re not dragging me into anything. Your messes are now my messes. If you’re thinking I’m not exactly where I want to be, then I must not be telling you and showing you how much I love you.”

She stared at him, wanting to respond with all that she felt for him, but incapable of it. She was exhausted. Overwhelmed. Raw inside. Adrift, like she was floating away never to be seen again.

Sam took her hand. He brought her palm to his lips and kissed her there with a tenderness that had her heart stuttering. He continued up her forearm, kissing her as tenderly. Fresh tears filled her eyes, slid down her cheeks.

She was wearing one of his T-shirts that was huge on her. He nudged aside the sleeve and kissed the crook of her elbow. He reached the top of her arm, bared the skin there then kissed the hollow between her neck and shoulder.

Another soft caress of his lips awoke the delicate skin behind her earlobe. He kissed her eyelids, her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, and the slight indent between her lips and chin.

Reversing his direction, his lips trailed down the center of her chest. Lightly, so lightly until she was shaking.

Sam laid her gently on her back. He slid her panties down and spread her legs. When he put his mouth on her, she dug her fingers into his hair. She pulled him, wanting him in her arms. And then he was there. His mouth was on hers.

He moved on top of her. He unzipped his jeans and pushed into her. He pulled all the way out, then entered her again, moving slowly, so slowly. Paige moaned. She wrapped her legs around him. With each thrust, she drew him in deeper.

Her breath caught. She couldn’t release it. It felt trapped inside her.

Against her lips Sam repeated his earlier words. “Let it out, baby. Let it out.”

And Paige exhaled what felt like her first breath since receiving the final diagnosis. She screamed her release into Sam’s mouth.