No One Left to Tell

  “Morton and Bashears,” Paige said.

  “Maybe. That you discovered Jorge’s body so soon after he was shot helped. The Muñoz brothers have an alibi. They were at church and their priest confirmed it.”

  “Good,” she said fervently. “That poor family. Poor Ramon. He’s got to feel so helpless, stuck in prison while his family suffers. I really need to see him. To tell him not to give up. To tell him that Elena really loved him, up till the end.”

  “Not yet,” Grayson said sympathetically. “We need whoever’s behind this to believe we don’t know what’s going on. We need them to get cocky and make a mistake, not to hide from us. If Ramon knows, he could let on, even if he never says a word.”

  “It could put his life in danger,” Stevie added. “We need to know who’s involved in all this before we tell him, okay?”

  Paige sighed. “Okay. I guess.”

  “As soon as it’s safe, I’ll take you to him,” Grayson said. “I promise.”

  Grayson’s promise seemed to make the difference. Paige nodded. “Thank you.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of all this,” Stevie said. “You try to get some sleep.”

  Ten

  Wednesday, April 6, 4:15 a.m.

  Silas drove away from his house, leaving the Toyota and his van parked in the garage. This vehicle was safe, clean of any tracking devices. Silas had taken it apart himself. Just in case a day like today arrived.

  He’d stored the car under an identity he’d been building for years. It was his escape plan, and Silas had attended to every detail. Except how he’d tell his wife the truth. She sat at his side, silent because he’d asked her to be. But soon he’d have to tell.

  Violet slept in the backseat, clutching her tattered doll, the only possession he’d allowed them to take and only because his wife had insisted. Violet couldn’t sleep without the doll. A hysterical child was the one thing he did not need.

  Their house would remain as it had been. Nobody would know they’d gone.

  Ironically, Jorge Delgado’s wife and child had done the same exact thing. If karma was real, Silas would end up the same way as Jorge.

  But my child will live. He wished the same for Jorge’s daughter. But that was for Mrs. Delgado to deal with. He had his own problems.

  All of my own making. Which didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting away.

  Because he’d lost it tonight. Panicked. He’d shot dozens of people in his life. Why had he so completely lost it?

  It had happened so fast. He had a gun to the kid’s head to scare him. Just to scare him. But the kid kept saying the computer wasn’t there. He kept lying. Then the mother staggered out of her room, reeking of whiskey and waving a goddamn pistol.

  She’d shot her own son by mistake, then raised the gun to fire… at me.

  The shot he’d fired had been simple reflex. I should have left the kid there. I should have run. A few seconds faster and he would have avoided Grayson Smith entirely.

  And that’s where it all fell apart. That’s where his problems had started. The counselor had been armed. And Silas knew the man could shoot. They’d been to the range together. I should have shot him.

  Smith hadn’t recognized him, but Silas knew he would figure it out. It was just a matter of time before the cops he’d served with for so long came to his own door. Silas needed to hide his wife and child before that happened. He couldn’t protect them once he was locked in a prison cell.

  “I gave her Benadryl like you said. She’ll sleep for hours,” his wife whispered.

  “She needs to sleep for at least eight hours. If she wakes up, give her more.”

  “Why eight hours?” she asked fearfully.

  “Seven hours to Buffalo. I need her to sleep until we cross the bridge into Canada.”

  “Canada? Why are we running away like thieves in the night?”

  “Because that’s what I am. Among other things.” Things he didn’t want her to know.

  “What happens when we get to Canada?”

  “I have money put away there.” A hideout of sorts. “You’ll need to stay there.”

  “And you?”

  Silas would return to Baltimore. He could hide from the cops, but his employer would track him like the dog he was. Killing the man who owned his soul was the only way to keep his family safe. “I have some business to finish. Then I’ll join you for good.”

  “What about our house? Our friends? Violet’s school? Silas, what have you done?”

  “What I had to do.”

  She stifled her sobs. “This is about Cherri, isn’t it?”

  He’d always known he’d married a smart woman. “Yes.”

  “I’m scared, Silas.”

  A very smart woman indeed. “So am I.”

  Wednesday, April 6, 4:45 a.m.

  Grayson closed the door when Stevie left, locking the three dead bolts. He wished he could make this whole day go away. But then he would never have met Paige, and he found he wasn’t quite selfless enough to wish that.

  She sat, hand on the dog’s neck, looking spent. Grayson tugged her to her feet and into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and some of his tension ebbed.

  “When you ran after that man, I was so scared. You could have been killed, too.”

  “I chased him after he let Logan go,” Grayson confessed and felt her stiffen. “He shot wide, warned me to stop. He could have gotten me then.”

  “But he didn’t.” She said it as if trying to reassure herself.

  “No, he didn’t. And trying to remember where I know him from is making me crazy.”

  “Grayson… was he Morton’s partner? Her old one, the one before Bashears and Skinner? The one that retired. Detective Gillespie.”

  “Gilly?” He tried to think back. “No, it didn’t sound like Gilly.”

  “You’re sure? He had access to Ramon’s keys. He and Morton were primary.”

  “Sure as I can be without talking to him again.”

  “I could look up his phone number. You could call his house. This early they’ll probably be asleep. We’d wake them, but at least we’ll catch them at home. And then you’d know for sure if you can eliminate him or not.”

  “Cops and their wives are used to being woken in the night,” he said. “Do it.” It took her only minutes to find Gilly’s phone number. Grayson dialed using her disposable cell, hoping he’d hear the voice over the pulse pounding in his head.

  “Hello!” It was an older woman’s voice on their answering machine. “Gilly and I aren’t here right now ‘cause we’re doin’ something cooler than you are. If we want your call, you’ve got our cell. Otherwise, leave a message. We might just answer it.”

  Grayson waited till the beep, hoping someone would pick up, but no one did. He hung up. “Gilly’s wife on voice mail,” he told Paige. “I’ll have to rely on IA to bring him in so that I can hear him. Come. Let’s get you back to bed so I can get some sleep, too.”

  His arm around her, he walked her to her bedroom and checked the windows. “They’re locked.” He turned down the blanket. “Now get in.”

  Her smile was wobbly as she got into bed. “Nobody’s tucked me in for a long time.”

  He kissed her mouth softly. “Sleep.” Walking away was hard to do, but he managed it. At the door he turned to find her sitting up, looking troubled. “What is it, honey?”

  “Nobody’s called me honey in a long time, either.” She drew a breath. “I don’t have any right to ask you this, but I’m going to. Would you mind sleeping here? Just sleep?”

  Meaning he’d have to lie next to her and not touch. The look on his face must have shouted volumes, because she looked away. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, it’s fine.” It would be fine. If it kills me. Which it just might. He climbed under the covers next to her, still wearing his trousers and shirt.

  She settled on her side, facing away from him. “I set the clock for seven.”


  “Fine.” This close, he could smell her hair. He fought with himself for a minute, then gave in and put his arm around her waist. She relaxed into him and he relaxed, too, despite the hard-on that he couldn’t ignore.

  She went still and he knew she hadn’t been able to ignore it, either. “Wow.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help that.”

  She rolled to her back, staring up at him. “Don’t be sorry. I’m… very flattered.”

  The awareness flaring in her eyes sent the remaining blood straight out of his head. She’d said “just sleep,” but his body didn’t care. He dipped his head, as her hand curved around the back of his neck. She pulled him closer, making it clear it was a yes.

  He’d meant to keep it sweet, but as soon as she opened her mouth under his, his control snapped. He ate at her mouth, making her moan. Making her writhe. Making his blood pound in his ears when she thrust her hips against his hand.

  He stopped, panting. His hand was between her legs and her eyes were closed. She looked like a woman on the verge and he cursed himself even as he drank her in.

  She was hot and he could feel her getting damp through the layers of fabric that kept her from him. He wanted to rip the pants down her legs. He wanted to taste. Needed to thrust long and hard and as deep as he could. He wanted her. All of her.

  He brushed her lips with his. “I want to eat you alive,” he whispered and she shivered convulsively. She opened her eyes and for a moment they simply stared.

  Then she spoke, her voice husky and pained. “I can’t have sex with you.”

  Stunned, he blinked. “Not this minute, or not ever?”

  Her eyes stayed steadfastly on his. “This minute.”

  “But not, not ever?”

  “No. Definitely not, not ever.”

  “Okay.” He tried to think. “But since you opened the door to this specific line of questioning… When?”

  “I don’t know. Just not tonight.”

  “But you want to?”

  “God, yes,” she breathed. She moved his hand. “We need to talk first.”

  He frowned, his mind immediately going in all kinds of bad directions. “About what?”

  “Nothing like that. I’m… okay.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Eighteen months,” she said and his frown deepened.

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s when I saw my best friends find the real thing and finally realized what I was missing.” She bit her lip. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Lots of men.”

  Lots of men. The shame in her eyes told him it had been hard for her to admit. “Did you love any of them?” he asked roughly.

  “No,” she said with brutal honesty. “I wanted to, but I knew they were temporary.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. What she needed him to say. So he asked what he needed to know. “Why?”

  Her smile was filled with a self-loathing he understood more than she could ever know. “I could claim my childhood sucked and I never knew my father, but the truth is that I didn’t want to be alone and accepted what I could get. Then Olivia found David and my life was glaringly… empty.” She shrugged. “I got fed up with hating myself. I decided I’d rather be alone than waste my time and dignity with Mr. Wrong.”

  Shit. Just… shit. “So this time you’re holding out for the real thing?”

  She winced at the caustic tone he hadn’t meant to use. “Yes,” she said. “I thought you should know before we go any further.”

  “It’s way too soon…” He let the words drift off as her mouth curved wryly.

  “I don’t believe in love at first sight. But there’s something between us. You’re here, in my bed, for God’s sake.”

  “You asked me to sleep here,” he said defensively.

  “I know.” Again the shame flickered in her dark eyes.

  Guilt stabbed him deep. She’d been through hell and simply asked not to be alone. To just sleep. And he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. “I’m the one who pushed it,” he said and she shrugged again.

  “If I said I hadn’t anticipated this, I’d be lying. But I was hoping to put this off a little longer. We can call this attraction, fascination, pure lust. Whatever. If you’re open to the real thing, I’m interested in seeing where this goes. Very interested. But if you’re not… I can’t. I can’t go back to the person I was. It’s important to me.”

  “I don’t do relationships.” The words were lame, especially after what she’d shared.

  “Why not?” she asked and he had no answer. Seconds ticked by and her eyes changed, going carefully expressionless, driving the spear of his guilt even deeper.

  She cleared her throat. “I guess that tells me everything I needed to know.”

  His throat closed, panic and despair overwhelming him. “I won’t leave you alone tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” But he didn’t want to leave her bed. “If you want me to.”

  Indecision filled her eyes, but the shame was still there. “I’d sleep better if you stay.”

  “Then I’ll stay.” And he wouldn’t touch her again.

  She nodded stiffly. “I appreciate it. Let’s… just go to sleep.” She rolled back to her side. The next breath she drew was ragged and he knew she was holding back tears.

  His hand reached to stroke her arm before he knew it. He snatched it back. Leave her alone. You’re just going to hurt her, like all the others.

  He never meant it to end this way, and it always did. This was ending a hell of a lot faster than it had with all the others, but it had been that kind of a day. The others had always declared him insufficient and gone on with their lives. Now, lying in Paige’s bed, he realized he’d picked them for their ability to do just that.

  But he hadn’t picked Paige. She’d slammed into his life like a freight train. And he knew that when he hurt her, she’d stay hurt for a long time. That he couldn’t stand. He would stay with her until she was safe. Until this was over. Then he’d leave her alone.

  He knew that this time, he’d hurt for a long time, too.

  He lay on his back, wondering how he’d managed to so royally fuck everything up. He didn’t know how much time had passed when she spoke, still turned away from him.

  “I have a confession. When I’m not caught in a bad dream, I’m a very light sleeper. Things wake me up. Conversations. On cell phones. In cars. About Carly.”

  Carly? Carly. Understanding came, followed closely by dread as he tried to remember what he’d said in the car. “You heard me talking to my mother.”

  “Yes. You told her she’d like me. Then you said you couldn’t tell ‘them’ because you couldn’t risk them telling. You told her not to tell me. Tell me what?”

  Anger bubbled up. “You should have told me you were awake.”

  “I know. I almost did, but you got upset with her and I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened, but I did.”

  “And you’re hoping I’ll tell you now?” he asked harshly. “Just like that?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice grew small. “Maybe. I’ve told you everything about me.”

  “This is different.” Seething, he rolled out of her bed, sitting on the side, his back to her. “Dammit, Paige. You had no right.”

  “I know. I said I was sorry. What else can I say?”

  He didn’t answer, the anger continuing to burn in his gut. She’d spied. Listened. I trusted her.

  Well, no, you really didn’t. If you had, you would have told her.

  I have no reason to trust her. I just met her.

  She trusted you. With her life. That was a harder one to negate. Because she had.

  He heard the sheets rustle, felt the mattress dip. He looked over his shoulder to find her sitting up, watching him, her expression a mixture of apprehension and hurt.

  “What?” he snapped defensively and she flinched.

  Then her chin came up. “I won’t tell.”

  He narrowe
d his eyes. “Tell what, exactly?”

  Her brows knit, nonplussed. “That you’ve got a secret. Which is all I really know.”

  “And?”

  “No ‘and.’ That’s all.”

  “No, it’s not. You’ll need to know. Wheedle. Nag. Pry.” Anger became bitterness. “Cry, even. And then I’ll feel guilted into spilling my guts when all I wanted was privacy.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” she murmured.

  He frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I won’t have the opportunity to wheedle, nag, or pry because this will be the only night I’ll see you here, this way, in my room.” She said the words evenly, without heat, but this time he flinched, his chest tightening painfully. She shrugged. “You’re the one who doesn’t do relationships.”

  “So now you’re punishing me.”

  She closed her eyes. “No. I’m being honest. And, in my opinion, a good bit more rational than you. You say you don’t want forever. You just want now. I say that I deserve better than that. I deserve forever with someone who wants… me. And I won’t settle for less.”

  Her words took his anger and squeezed it dry, leaving shame in its place. She was right. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “You should be. You don’t know me well enough to know that I never wheedle, nag, or pry, so I’ll cut you slack on that one.” She was utterly serious. And, it would appear, a bit angry as well. “But that you thought I’d cry to manipulate you into spilling your guts is downright insulting.”

  “You’re right,” he said simply. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” Her temper faded quickly, leaving an expression of sadness that hurt his heart to see. “Let’s just get some sleep. It’ll be daylight soon.” She scooted back under the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. “Stay or go, but do something quickly.”

  He hesitated, then gave in to the yearning she’d brought forth from him. He lay down beside her and let out a quiet breath. “I can tell you that I haven’t done anything illegal or that should make you be afraid of me.”

  She rolled over to look at him, warily curious. “Why would you think I’d be afraid of you?”