Be a man, Sam. Get off your ass and go to Dina’s office. Find out who or from what they’d pulled the bullet that matched . . . that gun. And if the crime committed was a homicide?
I’ll deal with that when I come to it.
Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 12.40 P.M.
Drive, Detective. As fast as you can.
Stevie considered making Clay explain, but a glance at his profile made her nix the idea. He was tense, little white lines bracketing his mouth, and somehow she knew this wasn’t about them.
She pulled around the FBI agents’ vehicle and headed for the main road. ‘I’ll drive as fast as I can, but I can’t legally use the flashers, Clay. I’m on disability. I don’t even have my badge. If we get stopped, we’ll be screwed.’
‘We’ll have a police escort. Just get to the highway.’
What the . . . ? ‘Okay. Figure out which of these switches works the dash flashers. Then check the glove box and see if Joseph has a portable.’
Ten seconds later, he’d activated the emergency flashing lights built into Joseph’s dash. A minute later, he’d smacked a portable flashing blue light on the roof.
The side roads were deserted, so Stevie increased their speed, way over the legal limit. ‘Who’s our escort and where will they meet us?’
‘Lou Moore. She’s on her way toward Queen Anne Highway. She’ll lead us from there.’
Of course it would be Sheriff Moore. Let it go, Mazzetti. Just let it go. ‘Lead us where?’
‘Across the Bay Bridge, back to Baltimore. Once we get over the bridge, we’ll get another escort. I don’t know who yet,’ he added brusquely, before she could ask.
‘Okay. Tell me what’s happened.’
‘Somebody broke into my place.’
She flicked him a surprised glance. ‘Home or your office?’
‘My house. I have a silent alarm that goes to my cell. If I don’t respond, it alerts my backup. That’s Paige. She’s called the cops and is on her way to my place right now.’
‘First Emma’s hotel room, now your house. They’re looking for me.’
‘Yeah.’
I’m sorry, she wanted to say, but didn’t. He’d find some way of bending an apology to his advantage. ‘Given the James Bond setup here, I’m surprised anyone got into your house.’
‘Me, too.’
Okay. It appeared she’d have to work for any information. ‘How was the alarm tripped?’
‘One or more of three ways.’
She blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Which are what?’
‘A cell phone signal that isn’t mine, body heat, or a simple breaking of the contacts on the door or windows.’
‘Do you have one of those fancy security doors?’
‘I do.’
She started to snap at him, but knew that wouldn’t help. ‘If it was their cell phone, can your system access its drive? Get a name, provider, contacts? Anything that might help us ID him?’
She felt him shift, turn to look at her. She kept her eyes on the road.
‘Maybe,’ he said, finally. He sound grudgingly impressed.
‘Do they have to make a call to trigger the alarm, or is it just the signal itself?’
‘Just the signal.’ He turned back to the window, silent again.
Stevie drove like a demon for another ten minutes, but had to slow when they approached the city limits of Wight’s Landing. Traffic parted when drivers saw the Escalade’s flashers, but being a beautiful Sunday afternoon, it seemed all the town’s residents had gathered on Main Street. Finally they cleared the town and saw the sheriff’s car waiting.
Sheriff Moore took the lead and they were off again.
He made a quick move, answering his cell phone. ‘Paige,’ he said. ‘I’m in the car with Stevie. I’m going to put you on speaker.’
‘I’m at your place,’ Paige said, slamming a car door. ‘Peabody, with me. And no comments about me taking my drooling dog into your house.’
‘I wasn’t going to,’ Clay said evenly. ‘If somebody’s broken in, I want you to have all the protection you can get.’
‘Now I’m at your front door and . . . I don’t hear a thing. No cops, no nothing.’
‘I thought you called the cops a half-hour ago.’
‘I did,’ Paige said. ‘There’s a cruiser parked on the curb.’ A beat of silence, a jangle of keys, then a tight exhale. ‘Oh, no,’ she whispered.
Oh God, Stevie thought. Now what?
‘What is it, Paige?’ Clay demanded when his partner said no more.
Paige cleared her throat. ‘The officers appear to be dead. Two of them.’
Clay paled. ‘Get out of the house, Paige,’ he said, teeth clenched.
‘I never went in. I’m headed back to my truck. I’ll lock myself in and I have a gun. I have to call 911 now. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.’
Paige disconnected, leaving Stevie and Clay in utter, stunned silence.
Then Stevie leaned on the accelerator. ‘Call Sheriff Moore. Tell her we need to go faster.’
Baltimore, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 1.18 P.M.
Paige was waiting in front of Clay’s house. ‘Both cops are confirmed dead. CSU’s in there now, along with Joseph, Hyatt, and the ME. A few of Joseph’s people are around back.’
‘How did they die?’ Clay asked, after making sure that Stevie was on the front porch where she was sheltered on three sides by the house. His body blocked her from the street so that she was completely protected. That this had been a ruse to lure him home – with Stevie in tow – had occurred to him right away.
‘I saw slit throats,’ Paige said. ‘I don’t know anything else. Hyatt took my statement and said I was free to leave.’ She regarded Clay with a concerned eye. ‘Are you okay?’
His partner knew him too well. ‘I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.’
‘Well, you’re not gonna sleep here tonight. I imagine they’ll have this place tied up as a crime scene for several days. Are you going back tonight to wherever you were last night?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll keep the Mazzettis safe until this is over.’
‘Well, if you need a place to stay later on, our house is always open. You know that.’ Paige looked at Stevie. ‘You, too. Grayson and I are worried about you guys.’
‘We’re okay,’ Stevie said quietly. ‘But thanks.’
She wasn’t okay, Clay was certain of that. When he’d climbed into the Escalade back at his dad’s house, she’d been furious, but instantly became a professional when she realized what was needed. More of a professional than Clay had been. He’d been sullen, uncommunicative.
Because it hurt. Being in the same vehicle with her for those forty minutes had sent acid churning through his gut and started a dull throbbing behind his eyes. But he had bigger problems than his gut, his head, or even his heart.
Two men were dead. Added to the three women from yesterday . . .
‘You shouldn’t go into the office until we know it’s safe,’ he said. ‘If they broke in here, they may have tried to break into the office, too.’
Paige shook her head. ‘They haven’t yet. I asked Hyatt to send a cruiser to check the office. It hasn’t been touched. I imagine the uniforms will stay there for a while, in case whoever did this does try to break in. With Alyssa out of town and Alec up at Daphne’s place, none of us need to go into the office right now. I texted them both, though, and told them to stay away. Just covering the bases.’
‘Good. Thanks.’ At least his people were safe. For now. ‘I want everyone checking in, every hour. No exceptions. Where are you going from here?’
‘To the airport. Emma’s husband’s here. I was supposed to have picked him up already. I’ll keep in contact, but I want you to do the same. Come on, Peabody.’
Clay watched to make sure she got into her truck safely, then turned when his front door was opened by Lieutenant Hyatt.
‘Come in,’ Hyatt said, moti
oning Clay and Stevie inside. Joseph Carter and Agent Brodie from VCET’s forensic lab crouched next to one of the bodies, talking to Neil Quartermaine, the medical examiner.
The slain officers lay on Clay’s living room carpet, near the sliding glass door that led to his deck. They’d been so young, he thought. What a waste.
‘Neither of them over thirty,’ Hyatt said and Clay realized he’d voiced his thoughts aloud.
‘What happened?’ Clay asked.
Joseph looked up. ‘We think the attacker was standing against that wall. He hit one, then the other, before either of them could make a distress call.’
The two cops lay on their stomachs, heads turned at an unnatural angle. Throats slit ear to ear. ‘No blood spatter,’ Clay said. ‘They were dead when he cut them.’
Agent Brodie looked up. ‘Yes,’ she said simply.
‘He broke their necks first,’ Quartermaine said. Still fairly new to the Baltimore ME’s office, he’d taken over JD’s wife’s position when Lucy went on maternity leave last December. His first day on the job had been that fateful day, in fact. The day Stevie had been shot.
Now Stevie stood off to the side, her eyes sharp as she took in the bodies, the room. My things. He’d dreamed of the day he’d bring her to his home, sharing what he’d accumulated over the years. Sharing himself. He never pictured her standing over two dead bodies.
‘And these guys had muscular necks,’ Quartermaine was saying. ‘They were in good physical condition. Probably lifted weights regularly. Your killer is strong, likely experienced in hand-to-hand. We could be looking at a professional fighter or someone with a military background.’ He shook his head. ‘Although I sure didn’t learn that in the military.’
‘I did,’ Joseph said quietly.
‘So did I,’ Hyatt added.
Clay shrugged. ‘Because I have an unshakeable alibi, I’ll add my “So did I”.’
‘I almost feel left out,’ Quartermaine muttered, making Joseph smile grimly.
‘Have you ever actually done it?’ Hyatt asked Clay and Joseph, more than idle curiosity in the question. ‘Broken a neck?’
Joseph got real busy checking out the dead cops’ slit throats. The Fed had paled slightly at the question, eyes flickering like he’d gone somewhere else for a second. Clay didn’t know what the guy was remembering, but it wasn’t a happy place. Quartermaine was giving Joseph a curious look. Brodie’s was more knowingly sympathetic.
Clay decided to take one for the team, to get the attention off Joseph. ‘Yes, I have. Why?’
‘Because I personally have not,’ Hyatt said evenly. ‘I need to understand what is required to break the necks of two strong officers, two in succession. When did you do so?’
‘In Somalia, when I was in the Corps.’ Clay wasn’t sure he believed the lieutenant’s reason for asking, but the guy could get the details of Clay’s story easily enough if he so desired. ‘But I didn’t do it to maintain stealth, like this probably was. We were under attack and I was fighting to stay alive. I used the only weapon I had at the moment – my hands. It wasn’t pleasant, I’ll tell you that. And I don’t know that I could have hit two guys in quick succession like this.’
‘Why not?’ Hyatt asked, his curiosity genuine.
‘There’s an emotional component that goes with it,’ Clay said slowly, aware of everyone in the room watching him and uncomfortable with the notion. ‘It’s still hard to admit, even after all these years, but when it was over, I staggered off and threw up. The sound of cracking wood still makes me cringe. There was certainly no joy in it. I might have been able to break two necks in a row, given the adrenaline pumping like it was, but I’m glad I never had to find out for sure.’
Joseph’s jaw clenched and Clay somehow knew that whoever the Fed had disposed of in his past, he had taken joy in the action. Or if not joy, then at least satisfaction. Which meant that whoever Joseph had killed had to have been a monster, because Joseph Carter was one of the good guys. One of the few men Clay trusted as much as he trusted his old friend Ethan Buchanan.
‘If you only broke one of their necks, how did you dispose of the other seven?’ Hyatt asked.
Clay narrowed his eyes, his suspicion confirmed. Hyatt had known to ask the question. ‘How did you know there were others?’
‘I read up on you two years ago, Maynard. We weren’t sure what kind of man you were and what, if anything, should be done about you back then. You’d obstructed justice, by your own account unknowingly, but there were those who thought you should have been charged with it.’
‘I probably should’ve been,’ Clay said bluntly. He’d known the identity of the man who’d killed his former partner, Nicki Fields, and he’d wanted to make the man pay. Personally.
‘You’re fortunate that I didn’t happen to agree,’ Hyatt said.
Only because you don’t know the whole story. Clay returned his gaze to the bodies. ‘What are their names?’
‘Hollinsworth and Locklear,’ Hyatt said. ‘Both had exemplary records.’
‘What time did they arrive?’ Stevie asked.
‘They reported their arrival to Dispatch at twelve twenty-four,’ Hyatt said, then added grimly, ‘and at twelve twenty-eight Dispatch received a report that it had been a false alarm and they were breaking for lunch.’
Surprised, Clay did a quick visual scan for the officers’ radios. They were gone. Whoever killed them had bought himself a few more minutes by filing a false report. ‘That narrows down the time of death considerably,’ he murmured. He looked up at his sliding glass window, specifically at the hole in the glass where the lock had been. ‘That was hurricane glass,’ he said. ‘Whoever came through there would have needed a Sawz-all with a diamond bit blade to get through it. They came prepared. Have the neighbors been canvassed?’
‘I have Novak and Coppola doing that now,’ Joseph said. ‘Since this is related to the attempts on Stevie’s life, it’s linked to the restaurant attack, the drive-by shooting, and the safe house attack last night – all under the umbrella of VCET jurisdiction. You’ve got camera surveillance, I assume.’
‘Of course. Can I have some gloves? Thanks,’ Clay said to Brodie when she handed him a pair. He opened his coat closet, dropped to his knees and removed a sports equipment box from the shelf that sat eight inches off the floor and ran the width of the closet. Below the shelf were several pairs of shoes. Tossing them into the box, he tugged the shelf back from the wall enough to run his finger through the gap, unlatching a panel that served as the closet’s back wall.
‘Do you have backup batteries?’ Joseph asked. ‘Because they cut your power and your secondary power. They also cut both alarm sirens – both inside and outside.’
‘The alarm runs on a different backup system. Once the alarm is tripped or the primary power is cut, it sends me an alert. The backup power they cut from outside is used when there’s a legit outage, like from a storm. The cameras, thermal and cellular alarms have their own backup power sources. One’s behind this wall and the other is in the basement.’
Clay cleared away the coats hanging from the closet pole, then gingerly gripped the panel and pulled it free, revealing his security system.
Joseph whistled. ‘Do you have a Bat Cave, too? With a fire pole? Please?’
‘Just a normal basement,’ Clay said dryly. ‘The cameras cover the entire interior of the house and run twenty-four/seven.’ He popped the DVD from the recorder. ‘I can run it on my laptop or you can run it on yours.’
‘Mine’s set up right here,’ Brodie said, reaching for the DVD.
‘Start it at noon.’
‘Paige didn’t call 911 to get a cruiser out here until twelve twenty,’ Hyatt told him.
‘But the first alert hit my cell at twelve ten. Because I didn’t acknowledge it, the next alert went out at twelve thirteen, to both my cell and Paige’s. She called me several times and when I didn’t answer, she called 911 and started driving here herself.’
‘She c
alled me right after she called 911,’ Hyatt said, ‘but then I got the all-clear from Dispatch so I didn’t come out. Now we know that all-clear was fake.’
‘I’ve got the video cued up,’ Brodie said and everyone crowded around her laptop.
‘Wait a sec.’ Clay carried her laptop to his fifty-two-inch TV and connected the two. ‘Hit play. Camera three will give you his approach from the backyard to the slider. Camera five—’
Brodie motioned him to her laptop. ‘Take the wheel, Clay.’
‘Okay.’ He chose the camera that focused on the slider from the outside, fast-forwarded until a man came into the picture, dressed in coveralls and carrying a toolbox. He wore a baseball cap low over his face, hiding his features except for his ears.
‘He’s big enough to break two necks,’ Hyatt commented.
‘He’s a wrestler,’ Clay said. ‘Or was. He has cauliflower ears.’ He changed to the camera pointing toward the street and skipped back to a minute before the man had shown up around the back. The curb was empty until the man drove up in a nondescript Toyota Sequoia, its front plates obscured by mud. ‘Shit. Can’t make out the plates.’
He switched back to the camera focused on the slider and watched as the intruder boldly climbed the stairs to the deck, and using his toolbox as a stepstool, reached up to snip the siren wires. ‘That’s the first alert I got at twelve ten.’
‘Why didn’t you see the alerts?’ Joseph asked.
Because I was almost having sex with Stevie. Clay avoided looking at her, lest he give them away. ‘I was working out.’ Not entirely untrue. He’d been sweaty and out of breath. ‘Got in the shower and didn’t get out until twelve twenty-five. That’s when I saw all the texts and calls from Paige.’ He pointed to the TV screen. ‘Sawz-all.’ The intruder was working at the glass with the handheld electric saw, cutting through in less than a minute. ‘That’s got to be one hell of a blade.’
Joseph shook his head. ‘He came prepared, just like you said.’
‘He’s even wearing eye protection,’ Quartermaine added bitterly. ‘Gotta love the safety-conscious killer.’
The man unsheathed a knife as he entered the house. His next move was to locate the siren inside the house and snip its wires as well. Then he began slicing the sofa cushions, methodically searching. The goggles he wore covered half his face, the lens distorting the view of his eyes. A scarf covered the lower half of his face, rendering him unidentifiable.