Finding You Page 7

  Enrique nodded.

  “I pulled over, and Cody got out to check on him. Next thing, I hear a shot, and Cody goes down. Stan’s out of the car and running. I try to follow, but he shoots at me, too. And Cody’s down and I don’t know whether he’s dead or alive. So I let Stan go and get back to Cody and try to do what I can for him, and then the radio goes off wondering why I’m not at the Courthouse with Stan—”

  He must have run out of words and breath at the same time.

  “And you have no idea what happened.”

  Sullivan shook his head. “No, sir. One second he was sitting there groaning, the next he was out of the car and running. Or at least it felt almost that fast.”

  We were all silent for a moment.

  “Did you or did Officer Martoni have the keys to the handcuffs?” Ty wanted to know.

  Sullivan’s face went blank for a second, and Ty continued, “Is it possible your partner opened the prisoner’s cuffs when he leaned into the backseat?”

  Sullivan blinked. “We each have keys,” he said.

  Enrique nodded. “You know how it is, Agent Connor. You can’t always hunt down the arresting officer when you need a set of handcuffs taken off. The keys are universal. All our handcuffs are Smith & Wesson, and all our keys open all our handcuffs.”

  Ty didn’t look surprised. The FBI probably operated the same way. Although I’d never seen Ty carry handcuffs. In undercover work, I guess you don’t.

  “So you think your partner might have removed Laszlo’s handcuffs?”

  “I wouldn’t wanna say...” Sullivan demurred, which was a lot like saying, really.

  “Try this. Which one of you put the cuffs on the prisoner? One of you, or someone at the prison?”

  “Someone at the prison,” Sullivan said promptly. “But I checked’em when we picked him up.”

  “And they were secure?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” He shifted his attention to Enrique. “Any word on Stan, Detective?”

  “He’s still out there,” Fuentes said. “But everyone’s looking for him, and the tip line’s getting calls every minute. We’ll get him.”

  He took a step toward the door. “We’ll let you get some rest, Sully. You’ll be back on duty before you know it. We need every hand on deck right now.”

  Sullivan nodded, looking a bit more cheerful. Enrique gestured Ty and me toward the door. Just before we all ducked out, Sullivan asked, a bit tentatively, “Detective? How’s your brother doing?”

  Enrique hesitated. I guess maybe he wasn’t sure how much to tell someone who was both a subordinate and on the hot seat at the moment. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to say. “Not so good, Sully,” he said eventually. “They’re gonna try to wake him up tomorrow. If they can.”

  Sullivan turned a shade paler. “I’m sorry, Detective,” he managed, his voice half choked.

  Enrique nodded, he face grim. I guess a “Thank you,” was beyond him under the circumstances. And then we were out the door and in the hallway once again.

  WE PICKED up Carmen in Juan’s room—he was still unconscious and she was still flipping through Marie Claire—and headed out. It was a quick drive; just a few minutes to the Fuentes family home.

  Carmen left the car first. When nobody else moved, she looked back over her shoulder. “Isn’t anybody else coming in?”

  “I have to go back to work,” Enrique said. “I’m gonna be working 24/7 for a while.”

  Carmen put her hands on her hips. “Mamá won’t like that.”

  “Mamá will have to deal,” Enrique said. “Between Stan escaping and what happened to Juan, my hands are full.”

  Carmen shrugged. She moved her attention to Ty.

  “I’m sticking with Cassie,” he told her. “In case Stan shows up. She can’t be left alone.”

  Sheesh, he sounded like he’d rather have a root canal.

  Carmen flipped her masses of hair over her shoulder. “Cassie can come, too.”

  It wasn’t the most gracious invitation I’ve ever heard, but at least she hadn’t suggested I could go back to the police station with Ricky while she kept Ty for the evening.

  “Some other time,” Ty said. “Enjoy your family. Stay safe. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Carmen pouted, but went. We waited until the door had closed behind her, and then Enrique put the car in gear. “Richardson’s?”

  “Please,” I said.

  He glanced at me in the rearview, but didn’t say anything. Ty’s cheek curved, like he was smiling, but since he was in the front seat and I was in the back, I couldn’t be sure.

  The two of them got busy talking procedure, whether the trial would be postponed until Stan reappeared or whether he could be convicted in absentia. I didn’t get involved, although I have to say that while convicting and sentencing Stan would go a long way toward making me feel better, I wouldn’t be happy unless he actually had to serve whatever sentence he got. Knowing he was out there, walking around like a free man—if one who had to keep looking over his shoulder—wasn’t enough to satisfy me. Especially because, at the moment, I was the one looking over my shoulder in case he came gunning for me.

  But if he planned to, he had something else to do at the moment. The trip to Richardson’s Motel was uneventful. The sidewalks were busy, but I saw no sign of Stan. And when we got there, the motel looked just as it had when Juan walked me home... was it just yesterday?

  The office was closed, a group of people were hanging out by the pool—probably the same group as yesterday—and the light was on above my door, shining on the pot of red flowers.

  “Hang on,” Ty told me when I reached for the door handle.

  “I’m capable of walking to the door on my own. It’s just over there.” I pointed to it. “You can sit here and watch me.”

  It was Enrique’s turn to smile. He didn’t speak, though. Ty took care of that.

  “That won’t do any good if he’s hiding inside.”

  “There’s nowhere to hide,” I told him, just as I’d told Juan yesterday. “Platform bed, no closet, and a tiny shower. You should know that. You stayed here last year.”

  “I’m staying here this year, too.”

  He grinned at my stupefied expression, and then opened his own door. “Cover us,” he told Enrique. I rolled my eyes, but only until Enrique slipped out of the car, pulled his gun, and braced his arms on the roof of the car. Then it started to feel a little too real.

  “Come on out, Cassie.”

  Sure. I opened the door and slithered out.

  “Stay low,” Enrique warned, peering into the darkness on the other side of the street.

  Yeah, yeah.

  Then Ty was there, and gathered me in front of him. “Room 107,” he said into my ear.

  “Why can’t we go—?” –to my room?

  “There’s a gun in mine. Besides, he won’t look for you there.”

  Sure he would, if he had any sense. Although he’d probably come to my room first, so maybe it would be better if I were somewhere else.

  Ty nudged me into motion toward his end of the wing. Behind us, Enrique kept an eye out for movement across the street. It was nice of him, although to be honest, if Stan suddenly showed up and shot at us, there wouldn’t be anything Enrique could do about deflecting the bullet. He could just try to shoot Stan, and hope that Stan hadn’t killed one of us.

  But nothing happened. We made it to the door safely. Ty kept me in front of him while he fumbled out his key—with a turquoise tag, like mine—and inserted it in the lock. He pushed the door open and snaked a hand around the jamb for the light. Then he pushed me in ahead of him, and slammed the door behind us.

  Outside, Enrique holstered the gun and slid back into the car. Ty did a quick circuit of the room—nobody was hiding behind the shower curtain or the bathroom door—before cracking the door and waving Enrique off. The car pulled away and the rear lights disappeared down the street.

  I looked around. Ty’s room looked just like m
ine. Same non-descript tile floor, same off-white walls, same nubby blanket on the bed. The picture of a beach above the bed was different, but it was still a picture of a beach.

  “Homey,” I said.

  He grinned. “Looks like yours, does it?”

  “Everything but the picture. And the gun.” He’d taken it out of a small box that had been in a bureau drawer. “I didn’t realize you carried one.”

  “When I’m undercover I can’t. Unless my cover is someone who’d carry a gun. But most of them aren’t. Not when you’re trying to pass for eighteen.” He was handling it knowledgeably, anyway. Opening it to put in bullets, peering down the barrel, or whatever it is one does with a gun.

  “You know how to use it, I assume?” I asked.

  He glanced at me, and then smiled. “Of course. The bureau makes sure I can hit what I aim at, and that I’m not a menace to society. Every so often I have to prove it.”

  Good to know. “I don’t remember you having one in Chicago.”

  “I didn’t bring it with me when I came to see you,” Ty said. “And we didn’t live together. Officially.”

  No, we hadn’t. Although he’d certainly spent enough time at my place. Albeit without the gun.

  “You know, Cassie...” He wasn’t looking at me, but was still fiddling with the weapon, “I didn’t join the FBI to do undercover work.”

  “You didn’t?”

  He shook his head. “I told you last year, I studied psychology in college. I wanted to be a profiler. But when I joined, somebody looked at me and thought that since I look the way I do...”

  “Young.”

  He nodded. “They could use me to go undercover in gangs and colleges. I’m not going to be doing this forever. Another couple years, and I’ll be too old to pass for eighteen, or even twenty-two.”

  Sure. But why tell me so?

  “What about Carmen?” I asked.

  “What about her?”

  “I was looking at the two of you yesterday. You were so busy watching her testify, you didn’t even see me come in. And later, at Captain Crow’s...”

  He shook his head. “I saw you, Cassie. But you dumped me, remember?”

  “It wasn’t a dump,” I said.

  “We broke up. You can’t take it personally if I get involved with someone else.”

  I knew that. Although it didn’t stop me.

  I turned from him to the door. “Now that you have your gun, can you walk me to my room?”

  “You’re not going to your room,” Ty said.

  “What do you mean? Of course I’m going to my room!” I certainly couldn’t stay with him in his.

  “Pretend this is your room.”

  I stared at him, and he added, “You said it looks the same. It shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”

  “I’m not spending the night with you!”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. “Bet I could change your mind.”

  No bet. I was sure he could, too. With hardly any effort at all. But that didn’t mean I wanted him to.

  Much.

  “If you wanted sex, you should have gone inside with Carmen.”

  I half expected him to make some sort of joke about sex and Carmen’s parents’ house. He didn’t. “I’m not sleeping with Carmen,” he said instead.

  Could have fooled me.

  I didn’t say it, although my face must have said something, because he added, “You think Enrique would be this nice to me if I was banging his sister?”

  Well... maybe not.

  “It’s none of my business,” I said. “I dumped you, remember?”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t a dump.”

  Yeah, yeah. “I want to go to my room. I’m hungry. We didn’t have dinner and there are granola bars there.”

  “I’ll order a pizza,” Ty said, and reached for his phone. “Green pepper and black olive?”

  I sat down on the bed, since there wasn’t anything else I could do, and nowhere else I could sit. “Yeah.” Annoying, how well he knew me.

  The room did have a small TV, but Ty refused to let me turn it on. “I might not hear somebody outside if there’s noise in here,” he explained.

  “The pizza guy will knock.”

  “I’m not worried about the pizza guy. I’m worried about someone taking a shot at you through the window. That’s why we have to keep the lights off, too.” He walked over to the door and plunged the room into darkness. “With the lights on, you’re lit up like a silhouette in a shooting gallery.”

  I huffed but put the remote down. “So what are we supposed to do while we wait for the pizza?” And how were we supposed to eat it, if we couldn’t see?

  “Your eyes will adjust to the dark,” Ty said, and came to sit next to me on the bed. (It was the only place to sit in the room. Unless he wanted to put himself squarely in front of the window, and I guess he didn’t.) “And we could always make out while we wait.”

  “In your dreams,” I said.

  I couldn’t see him smile, but I could hear it in his voice. “The sex was good, wasn’t it?”

  Yes, it was. Or had been. However...

  “Not like I’d know the difference, is it? I was a virgin before you.”

  There was a beat. Then his voice came again. “How about after me?”

  Dammit. I sighed. “Nobody after you, either.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. And it probably wasn’t because he was overwhelmed by the news. So we just sat in silence for a few minutes.

  As he’d promised, my eyes did adjust to the dark. Fairly soon I could see not just his outline, but the paler oval that was his face, and the glint of his eyes and teeth when he smiled. “How about we talk, then? We got pretty good at that too, as I recall.”

  We had, actually. A year ago, it wasn’t the sex I’d fallen in love with—because we hadn’t had any. He’d barely kissed me. No, I’d fallen in love with his personality. We’d talked. A lot.

  “We’re already talking,” I pointed out.

  “I don’t wanna talk about us anymore.”

  That didn’t sound encouraging. But since I didn’t want him to think I wanted there to be an ‘us’ again, I didn’t say so. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “The case,” Ty said.

  “Juan’s case?” Stan’s case was closed, wasn’t it? Unless he started raping women again, but surely he wouldn’t be that stupid. His face was plastered all over the news. The safest thing he could do was lie low, and then get himself out of Key West at the first opportunity.

  “All of it,” Ty said. He gestured, indicating something big and round. It happened to be with the hand that had the gun in it. The light from the pool area reflected off the barrel.

  “Would you mind putting that down?” I asked, scooting away. “I’m glad you have it, but when you’re waving it around like that, you’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry.” He put it on the bed next to his hip.

  I eyed it. Not that I could see it in the dark, but I looked at the patch of darkness where I assumed it was. “Is that safe? What if it goes off accidentally? You could shoot yourself in... you know.”

  “The knee?” He shook his head. “It isn’t gonna go off accidentally. Glocks are made without safeties, so it takes more effort to fire one. And I don’t want to put it somewhere I can’t reach it in a hurry.”

  Fine. But he could forget about us getting busy on this bed as long as the gun was there.

  Then again, I’d already announced we weren’t going to get busy on the bed, so he probably wasn’t expecting us to.

  “So about the case,” I said.

  “Yeah. What did you think of the trip to the hospital?”

  What was there to say about a trip to the hospital to see one guy who’d been beaten up and two others who’d been shot? “Um... horrible?”

  “Beyond that,” Ty said.

  “Well...” I wracked my brain to come up with something halfway intelligent. “Juan looked bad. But
I guess he must be getting better if they’re thinking of waking him up tomorrow.”

  Ty nodded.

  “It’s nice of Carmen to sit with him.”

  “She’s his sister,” Ty said. “What else would she do?”

  I guess... nothing? I’m an only child, so I don’t know much about it.

  “I didn’t realize Martoni was the same guy who drove us to the clinic last year. I liked him. He didn’t say anything, but he seemed friendly.”

  Ty nodded.

  “And Ricky said some very nice things about him. He must be a good police officer. And now he might never be the same. It’s horrible.”

  My voice wobbled a little. It was all getting to be too much. Juan and Martoni and Sullivan in the hospital, and Stan on the loose with a gun in his hand. If he’d shot both Martoni and Sullivan, guys he’d worked with, what might he do to me? Or to Ty, if he got a chance at him?

  Ty reached out and took my hand. “We’ll get him, Cassie. Someone will see him and call in a tip, and he’ll be back in prison. And this time, we’ll tack a few counts of attempted murder and assault on a police officer to the charges, as well. He won’t see daylight again.”

  “That’s only if he shows up somewhere he can be caught. He might have left Key West and sailed to Cuba, and they’ll never send him back.”

  “I don’t care where he went,” Ty said. “I’ll go there and bring him back. If I have to sneak into Havana and knock him over the head and swim back to Key West dragging him behind me, I’ll do it. I promise.”

  I sniffed. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. My eyes had gotten adjusted enough to the light by now that I could see him pretty clearly. He was looking at me. Looking at my mouth, unless I was mistaken.

  I held my breath as he leaned in.

  Yep, definitely looking at my mouth.

  My own eyes drifted shut as he came closer.

  And just as he was about to kiss me—with no protest on my part—there was a knock on the door.

  TY JERKED back. “Shit!”

  He sounded out of breath, although our lips hadn’t actually had a chance to connect.

  Even so, I was a bit breathless myself. Enough that when he grabbed the gun and moved to the window, I wasn’t able to tell him to be careful.