“Detective Mazzetti,” he said. “I didn’t expect you, either. Where is Paige?”
Her eyes shot up to his, focused again. “I thought she was here.”
“She’s not. Smith wasn’t going to stay with her, so she asked me to. But she hasn’t shown up. She hasn’t called and she’s not answering any of her phones.”
“Well, her phones aren’t exactly working at the moment.”
“Why the hell not?” he demanded.
“She and Grayson Smith were involved in an incident tonight. Grayson’s car was blown up. Her phone was blown up with it.”
Clay started, his jaw dropping. “What the hell?”
“I don’t want to have this conversation out here. May I?” She gestured to the room.
Immediately he stepped back, opening the door wider. “Of course. Come in.”
Four handguns lay on the kitchen counter. He’d been cleaning his weapons, an oily rag folded in precise quarters.
Stevie respected a man who took care of his things.
His brows lifted impatiently as she took in the room, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He had a tattoo on his left bicep. Semper Fi.
“It was a car bomb,” she said, cutting to the chase. “We don’t know who planted it. Yet. We did recover some pieces of the device and are working to identify the bomber. Grayson’s car was destroyed. They got out just in time.”
Clay’s mouth tightened. “Somebody doesn’t want them finding out who killed Elena.”
“It’s related to that case, yes.”
“And you’re not going to tell me any more.”
She regarded him steadily. “You were a cop once. Did you really expect me to?”
“No.” He all but bit out the word. “Where is Paige now?”
“A squad car took them to Grayson’s house to pick up Paige’s dog. Then they were supposed to come here. I know they were dropped off safely. I’m thinking they decided to stay there.”
“Paige would have called me.”
“I’m thinking maybe she’s been a little busy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Shit. And she was doing so well, too.”
She frowned up at him. “What does that mean?”
“She was waiting for Mr. Right. Twelve hours ago, that wasn’t Smith. Her hormones got the best of her.”
“That’s never happened to you?” she asked, feeling the need to defend Paige.
“A time or two,” he said evenly.
“With her?” she pushed. Shut up, she told herself. Let it go.
His eyes flared. “No. She’s my partner. I don’t do partners.”
“Good. Grayson’s my friend. I don’t want her toying with him.” Not that she thought Paige would. It was merely the best save she could conjure.
“Your friend can take care of himself,” Clay said mildly, as if reading her mind. “Can you check with your friend to see if he’s still got possession of my partner?”
Holding to a shred of her dignity, Stevie dialed Grayson’s home number.
He picked up on the fourth ring, sounding groggy. “Stevie?”
“Do you have Paige with you?”
“Yeah.” It was said with such satisfaction that she nearly smiled. “Why?”
“Because I came by the Peabody Hotel to check on you both. Her partner’s here and he’s been worried sick.”
“Oh.” It was uttered on a blown-out breath. “I’m sorry. She… forgot. Sshh,” he said softly and Stevie knew that wasn’t meant for her. “It’s Stevie. Go back to sleep.”
“Well, that answers the rest of my questions,” Stevie said wryly.
“I’m sorry, Stevie. It was really nice of you to check on us. Do you have any information?” Grayson asked, more alert now.
“Not at this time.”
“Because Maynard’s with you?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing up at the big, dark man who watched her intently.
“Call me in the morning,” Grayson said. “I have some things to tell you.”
“Case things?”
“Yes and no. I told you that Anderson knew about Muñoz. Well, he also knew things about me. Personal things he threatened to use against me if I pushed this case.”
Her heart began to pound. “And then, tonight—kaboom.”
“Exactly. I’ll tell you when you’re alone. Get some rest now. I’m more than fine.”
She frowned at the phone as he hung up, then looked at Clay. “Paige is okay.”
“I got that.” He regarded her carefully. “How is your little girl?”
She blinked, not expecting the question. “Safe. Happy.”
“I got the picture you sent of her, in the holiday card. Thank you.”
“I wasn’t sure whether or not to send it. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
His brows lifted. “What would have been the wrong idea?”
“That it was… from me.”
“Hmm. I understand.”
“No,” Stevie said sadly. “I don’t think you do.”
“You’re a widow. Your husband was murdered.” He shrugged when she stared. “I looked you up. Because I was curious, too.”
She could have denied being curious, but he’d know she was lying. “I’m a single mom with a job that takes too much away from my daughter as it is.”
He continued to study her, not breaking eye contact. “You said once that you might need my help. On a future case. When you needed information that wasn’t available by more conventional means.”
“Or legal,” she said.
“Tomato, to-mah-to. But you never asked.”
“I almost did,” she admitted. “Several times.”
“But?”
She looked away. “I don’t know.”
“The offer still stands,” he said. “No strings. No expectations.”
She met his eyes. Made a decision she hoped she would not regret. “Thank you. I think I’ll take you up on it.”
“This case? Dirty cops?”
“Maybe prosecutors, too. Grayson’s boss for one. He knew Muñoz was set up.”
“You want me to look into this boss? Discreetly?” he asked and she nodded.
“His name is Charlie Anderson. I can’t believe he’d look the other way on Muñoz out of the goodness of his heart. There’s a money trail somewhere.”
“You want me to dig into his bank records?”
She paused, knowing full well what she was asking him to do. Then in her mind she saw the smoldering wreckage of Grayson’s car and her doubt disappeared. “Yes, please. But no one can know. Not even Grayson or Paige.”
“Why keep it from them?” Clay asked.
“Because Grayson would stop me. We don’t have a search warrant for Anderson’s financial statements and Grayson’s an idealist. ‘Fruit of the poisonous tree,’ as he always says.”
“Almost getting blown up has a way of changing a man’s ideals.”
She sighed out a breath. “True enough. But keep it to yourself for now. Your word?”
He nodded. “Nobody will know. I’ll get back with you when I have something.”
“Thanks.” She moved to the door. “Do you still have my cell?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“Good. Then call me when you have something.” She’d opened the door when he stepped behind her and gently pushed it shut, caging her in.
“I never really thanked you,” he said quietly, “for bringing Nicki’s killer down. You gave her family closure and for that we’re very grateful.”
She looked up at him. He was too close. Her heart was beating entirely too hard. “It was my job. Get some rest, Mr. Maynard. Your new partner is safe.”
He opened the door without another word. Stevie waited until she was in the hotel lobby to press her hand to her still-racing heart.
Thursday, April 7, 7:15 a.m.
The shrill ringing of the telephone woke Grayson from a sound sleep. It took him a second to remember where
he was, but the warm woman in his arms was his first clue. He reached for the phone, a smile on his face despite the sharp twinge in his back.
Taking the brunt of falling burning metal wasn’t something he hoped to do again.
“Hello?” he whispered into the phone, stroking Paige’s black hair, gently pushing her head back to his chest when she looked up, blinking sleepily.
“You didn’t think to call?” It was his mother and she was angry. “You didn’t think it was important to tell me you’d almost been blown to bits? I had to see it on the news.”
He winced. “It was late last night. There didn’t seem to be much use in waking you up to tell you I was okay.” Plus, he’d been a little busy at the time having Paige on the dining room table. And in the shower. And in his bed. That was the best time of all.
“Are you really all right? They said minor injuries.”
“I got hit in the back by a piece of the car, but I’m only bruised. I was wearing Kevlar.”
“Kev—” She stopped short, her exhalation audible. “I want to see you this morning.”
He thought of all he needed to do. “I’ll try.”
“Grayson.” Her voice trembled. “I need to see you for myself.”
“Then I’ll come. I promise.”
“Okay. How is Paige? That rat bastard reporter said she was with you at the time.”
“Rat bastard?” He grinned. “Mom.”
“That’s what Paige called him. Was she hurt?”
He looked down at all that soft, golden skin. Paige propped her chin on his chest, watching him as he talked. “Just a scratch or two,” he said. “She’s fine.”
“I see.” And he suspected that his mother did. “Did you tell her?”
“She already knew. But you knew that.”
“I did. She’s a smart cookie. I can’t believe you kept that photo.”
“I needed to. After… you were so sad. You cried all the time. I had the picture to remember you from before. Sometimes I’d hold it and pretend it never happened at all.”
She was quiet a moment. “I kept a few of your baby pictures. I look at them every time Lisa has another baby and I think about being a grandmother.” Her voice went wry. “I’ve been waiting a long time, you know.”
He rolled his eyes. “Mom.”
“I know, I know. It’s too soon. I can dream, though.” She cleared her throat briskly. “I tried calling your cell phone before the home phone. It went straight to voice mail.”
“I dropped it when I was running from the car. It’s pretty well trashed. I’m going to get another phone today. Paige will need another one, too. And a laptop.”
“Sounds like you two have a lot to do today. I’ll let you get started.”
“But I will stop by the house this morning so you can count my fingers and toes.”
Her chuckle was watery. “I’ll be waiting. I love you, son.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” He hung up and handed the phone to Paige. “We made the news again,” he said. “Your friends in Minnesota will be worried about you.”
She sat up, pulling the sheets to cover her breasts. He tugged at the sheet, but she held it in place, making him scowl. “We have things to do this morning,” she said primly. “If I let you start, we’ll stay here all day.”
“I could live with that,” he said, but she shook her head.
“You promised your mother. Now hush and let me call Olivia.” She made her call, wincing as he had done. She held the phone an inch from her ear as a stream of creative cursing spilled from the receiver. When it quieted a bit, she tentatively put the phone back to her ear. “No, you don’t need to come. I’m fine. Grayson took most of the brunt of it. He’s fine, too.”
He tugged at the sheet again and she glared at him. “Stop it,” she snapped. “Not you,” she said to her friend, then she sighed. “Yes, he’s here.” She handed him the phone. “Now you’ve done it. She wants to talk to you.”
“This is Smith.”
“I would hope you weren’t anyone else,” Olivia said dryly, “since you’re in her bed.”
“Technically she’s in mine.”
“You don’t have to sound so proud of that,” she said, her voice gone hard. “Look, I checked your record. You’re a decent prosecutor. Doesn’t mean you’re a decent man.”
“I like to think I am.”
“Well, time will tell. Don’t hurt her.”
“I’ll try.”
“There is no ‘try.’”
Grayson froze, the phone pressed to his ear. There is no try. He heard another voice say the same words, in the same impatient tone. More than a year ago.
Eight hours ago, that same voice had told him to stop his car and get out. “Oh God.”
“What?” Olivia demanded, worry crowding her voice. “What’s wrong?”
Paige took the phone from his hand. “What did you say to him?” She listened and frowned. “That’s all? ‘There is no try’?” She met his eyes. “What is it?” she asked him.
There is no try. “I know who it is,” he said simply.
“Liv, I have to go. It’s okay, but I can’t explain now. I’ll call you later.” She hung up, tossed the phone to the bed, and scrambled to her knees, framing his face between her palms. “Who?”
“Silas Dandridge. Retired cop.” He closed his eyes. “I have to be wrong.”
“But you know you’re not.”
“No. It’s his voice. I just hadn’t heard it in a year.”
“You have to call Stevie.”
He stared at Paige numbly. “This is going to kill her. She won’t believe me.”
“Why?”
“He was her partner.”
Thursday, April 7, 7:20 a.m.
Stevie stumbled into the kitchen, yawning. “Smells good.”
Her sister, Izzy, stood at the stove, flipping pancakes. “I know. Coffee’s fresh.”
“Morning, Mommy.” Six-year-old Cordelia already sat at the table, her plate nearly empty.
“Morning, baby.” Stevie filled a cup and sat next to the case paperwork Izzy had stacked into a pile. “I was going to nap for five minutes last night before reading those.”
“You were snoring like a buzz saw on the sofa when I came down,” Izzy said.
“Like a very loud buzz saw,” Cordelia agreed soberly. “You’re louder than Grandpa.”
“Am not,” Stevie denied, and watched Izzy and Cordelia share knowing looks.
“Whatever you say, chief,” Izzy said. “I got some makeup together for your friend.”
“Thank you. And she’s actually Grayson’s friend.”
“’Bout time he got a friend,” Izzy declared. “Cordy, time to get dressed for school.” Cordelia grumbled, but obeyed. Izzy put a plate in front of Stevie. The pancakes had chocolate chips in the shape of eyes and a smiling mouth. “Because you’re all scowly.”
“How can you be so damn cheerful?” Stevie muttered.
Izzy leaned close to whisper, “Because I get some on a semiroutine basis, sweetie pie. You should try it. Before you’re too old to enjoy it anymore.”
Immediately Stevie saw Clay Maynard in her mind and pushed the image away. “Shut up. Just because your pancakes are good doesn’t mean you can butt into my life.”
“My pancakes are great and you have no life.”
The doorbell rang, followed by Cordy’s, “I’ll get it,” and a happy squeal. “Uncle J.D.!”
J.D. had been one of Paul’s closest friends and was Cordelia’s godfather. That he and Stevie had been paired up the year before had been part luck and part strategic maneuvering on Stevie’s part. J.D. had needed a change. He’d found it, with a new direction in his career and a new love in his life.
“J.D.’s gettin’ some,” Izzy said conspiratorially. “He’s not scowly.”
Stevie rolled her eyes. “Will you shut up?”
J.D. came into the kitchen, Cordelia on his hip. “I smell pancakes,” he said hopefully.
Izzy laughed. “I have to take Cordy to school. But there’s enough batter left for a dozen more cakes if that scowly one over there will pour them on the griddle.”
J.D. looked at Stevie doubtfully. “I’d better pour them myself.” He smacked a loud kiss on Cordelia’s cheek. “You be good today.”
“Or don’t get caught if you’re bad,” Izzy added. “Come on, kid. Let’s go.”
J.D. watched them go, then poured the pancake batter. “Why are you scowly?”
Because I haven’t gotten any in years. “Because I haven’t slept in two nights.”
“Because?”
“Because I’ve been working on Grayson’s case.”
“Which you’re going to tell me about right now, yes?”
“Yes.” She rose. “Sit down. I’ll flip ’em. You always let them burn.”
“I get distracted easily.”
“Yeah, right. You just like other people to cook for you and this is your way of looking helpless.” His grin told her she’d hit the nail on the head. “It’s like this.”
His grin quickly faded as she brought him up to date.
“Oh my God,” he murmured. “Smith’s boss has dirt on him?”
“I can’t imagine Grayson having dirt.” She slid a plate in front of him. “But there was a threat. I could see it in his eyes after he talked to Anderson yesterday. Then last night his car goes kablooey.”
“Maybe they were after Paige.”
“The guy who shot Logan’s mother called him. Warned him. And shot at him. I pulled Grayson’s cell records. The number that called him came from a prepaid phone.”
“I expected as much. I’d like to see the scene,” J.D. said.
“The bomb took the car out. Not much left.”
“No, the spot in the woods where the blood was found. Where the shot that missed Smith was fired. That’s where the sniper set up. I want to see it.”
He’d been an army sniper once, back in his first career. He might see something the rest of them had missed. Besides, the sun was up. CSU might have missed something in the darkness.
Stevie nodded. “Finish up and we’ll go out there.”
Thursday, April 7, 7:30 a.m.
Paige’s mouth fell open in shock. She wasn’t sure she’d heard what she’d thought she’d heard. “Stevie’s partner called you last night?”
“Her old partner. She’s only been with J.D. for a year. Before that, she was partnered with Silas Dandridge.”