“You have someone in your life who cares about you.”
Reilly’s actions had shown it, but she wanted the words. She inclined her head.
He laid his hand over hers. “Me.”
One word that delivered volumes. Reilly cared for her. He trusted her. And the crazy thing was, she felt the same about him. Could she have a future with Reilly? Had he been right all along, that Mark and the Vagabond Killer could be caught and jailed, leaving her free to live her life?
In many ways, she couldn’t fixate on those hopes. Reilly didn’t know who she was. If he did, everything would change.
It wouldn’t take him long to piece together who she was. Haley and Mark were common enough names, but a detective would figure it out. Father who’d died recently. Woman on the run. Reilly would learn about her past and then he’d change his mind about helping her. Why would he want to help the daughter of a criminal?
“Do you really think this is going to work?” she asked.
“What is ‘this’?”
Every question seemed to take on two meanings: their forbidden relationship and the problem with the Vagabond Killer and Mark. She wasn’t pressing him about their relationship. He’d been clear about his reasons for not wanting to be involved with her. “Getting into the city without someone seeing me.”
“We’ve come up with a pretty solid plan. No one knows the exact location of the lineup except my boss and Vanessa. We’ll take care of the lineup, Vanessa’s arranged a safe place for us to stay the night and we’ll be back at the ranch by tomorrow afternoon.”
Information had a way of leaking. A reporter could be in the right place at the right time and recognize her. “Do you think Mark will be waiting for me in the city?”
A muscle in Reilly’s jaw ticked. “He might be in the city, but he won’t know where the lineup is. We’ve asked the Vagabond Killer’s lawyer to use discretion to protect your privacy.”
The nagging feeling wouldn’t let go of her thoughts. “But if he is?”
“If he is, I’ll be ready for him.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, letting go after a few seconds. She read comfort and support in his gesture, felt the flare of desire and smothered it. White Knight syndrome again. It ran rampant in the Truman family. Reilly had no idea what he was saying or who he was going up against.
He must have sensed her apprehension. “You’ll be at my side whenever we’re in public places and if he shoots at me, he’ll be shooting at an officer. An armed officer,” Reilly added.
She hated guns, but knowing Reilly had protection soothed her nerves. Mark was vicious and he’d hurt anyone who got in his way. His words from the news clip sprung into her mind.
We have one legal issue we’re close to eliminating
. A chill shuddered inside her. If she didn’t warn Reilly about Mark and who he was and what he could do, Reilly wouldn’t know how to best protect himself. Mark wasn’t a petty criminal with a checkered past. He was an all-out, career criminal. Telling Reilly the truth about Mark could help, but it could also give Reilly enough clues to uncover her identity. Wouldn’t he figure it out eventually? Was it best to tell him and get it over with? What if he got hurt because she didn’t tell him how to prepare?
Reilly’s phone buzzed and he handed it to her. “That’s probably Vanessa. Can you read the text?”
Carey took the phone and opened the text. “It says 2:00 a.m., Lakewood police station.”
“Great.” He glanced at the clock. “We’ll be on time.”
Carey flipped the station on the radio, needing music to distract her from her worries. She listened listlessly to the radio and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, buying herself time to think about her next move and how she was going to protect Reilly.
* * *
At 1:00 a.m., Reilly received a second text message from Vanessa.
“She says 2:00 a.m., Commerce City police station,” Carey said. “Why would she change the location?”
Reilly glanced at her. “Probably another part of the plan to keep the information from leaking. She’s cutting it close though. But we’ll get there. Don’t worry about it.”
Carey wasn’t worried about making the lineup on time. She was worried about getting in and out without incident.
At 2:00 a.m., they pulled into the Commerce City police station.
“I don’t know this station or these officers, so stick close,” Reilly said, circling the car to the rear of the building.
Close to Reilly was where she wanted to be. He parked against the sidewalk, Carey’s door closest to the entrance.
Carey took a deep breath and tried to smother the chilling sense of foreboding that ignited in her gut. As they had neared the police station, Reilly had grown more alert, his shoulders tight and his eyes seemed to take in everything around them. He was concerned, too. Or at least, he wasn’t wholly unaffected by the situation.
Dark shadows concealed the farthest corners of the parking lot and several police cruisers were parked along the fence at the end of the lot. The lot was monitored with cameras.
She could do this. She remembered what the Vagabond Killer looked like and she could pick him out of a lineup. Forgetting his face was impossible. It would be over in ten minutes. She could do this for Reilly, for herself, for the city and rely on Reilly’s unwavering strength to power through. Once she’d done her part, she wouldn’t be obligated to stay with the Trumans. Vanessa would find a way to build her case and keep the Vagabond Killer behind bars. The thoughts should have brought her relief, but only sadness torqued through her.
“Stay in the car. Let me come around to get you,” Reilly said.
Reilly got out of the car and circled the front, opening her door.
She was safe. She was with Reilly. Everything was going to be fine. She stood, staying close to his body. The memory of being in his arms simmered inside her, mixing with the warmth of nostalgia. If this was the end of the road for them, she would remember every touch, every kiss fondly and without sadness for what she’d lost when it ended.
She took a step away so he could close her door. A whizzing by her head had her turning in surprise.
Reilly shoved her back into the car and drew his gun. “Get down!”
Terror and adrenaline tore through her veins. Someone was shooting at them. What should she do?
Reilly raced around the front of the car, looking into the dark. He got in the driver’s seat.
“I can’t see where the shots are coming from.” Reilly started the engine and shifted into Drive, jamming on the gas, sending the car lurching forward.
A bullet slammed into the rear driver’s-side window.
Carey yelped. “We need to call for help.”
Reilly gunned the engine and sped out of the parking lot.
Carey’s heart pounded so hard she couldn’t hear over the sound.
“Carey,” Reilly said, his voice cutting through her terror. He handed her his phone. “Dial 9-1-1. Put the phone on speaker.”
With trembling fingers Carey pressed the buttons and did as Reilly asked.
“9-1-1, state your emergency.” The voice was calm and professional.
“This is Detective Reilly Truman of the DPD, badge ID Adam David five seven four three. Officer requesting assistance. Shots fired in the parking lot of the Commerce City police station. I’ve fled the scene with a civilian.”
Carey heard the dispatcher typing at her keyboard. “Are you somewhere safe?”
Reilly ignored her question. “Possible multiple shooters at large. Proceed with extreme caution.”
Bile rose in her throat. Mark had found a way to get to her. How had he known she would be there?
“Do not return to the scene. Are you in a safe place, Detective Truman?” the dispatcher asked again.
“We’re fine.” With that Reilly disconnected the call. “Call Vanessa,” Reilly said and swore. “We’re being followed.” He jammed the gas and the engine roared louder. “Carey, slouch down low.”
Carey did as he asked. She found Vanessa’s number in his address book and called. The phone rang four times, then Vanessa answered. Carey put the call on speakerphone.
“Where are you? When you didn’t show, I thought you were dead,” Vanessa said. The worry was evident in the shrillness of her voice.
The car shuddered as Reilly hit the brakes and whipped the car onto the on-ramp to the highway. “We just left the Commerce City police station.”
“What were you doing there? I texted you to come to the Lakewood police station.”
Reilly and Carey exchanged glances. “I got two text messages from you. The first said Lakewood and the second said Commerce City.”
“I only sent the one message,” Vanessa said.
Dread coiled in Carey’s stomach. Mark. He’d found a way to send another message from Vanessa. He could have hired computer hackers to install spyware on Vanessa’s phone. Or Reilly’s. Or everyone’s at the police station. “Did you have the lineup schedule in your phone?” Carey asked.
Vanessa swore. “It was in my phone’s calendar, but no names. Why? Do you think someone messed with my phone?”
It was precisely what Carey thought.
“We can’t rule it out,” Reilly said. “Look, Van, we’ve got someone tailing us. I can’t talk now. I just needed to know you were okay.”
“You and the witness need to get somewhere safe. We got the wrong guy and it’s a disaster over here.”
Reilly made a sharp turn off the highway. The speed and the curving road made Carey feel as if the car was going to flip.
“Wait, what do you mean you got the wrong guy?” Reilly asked through clenched teeth.
“At ten of two, we got a call from the Denver precinct. Another vic showed up in an alley in the same neighborhood as five of the other killings. Same method and same cause of death. The guy we have in custody couldn’t have committed the crimes.”
Carey shivered, the impact of Vanessa’s words constricting her breathing. They had the wrong man. Both the Vagabond Killer and Mark were loose on the streets.
“Are you sure?” Reilly asked, running a red light at an empty intersection.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Vanessa said, irritation clear in her tone. “The suspect’s lawyer is demanding his immediate release and as soon as court opens, he’ll get a judge to sign off on it.”
“Van, I gotta go. I’ll be in touch,” Reilly said.
Reilly snatched the phone from Carey and shut it off. “I lost one of the cars, but the other is following us.”
Carey rubbed her arms, dinner threatening to make a reprisal. “It’s Mark who shot at us. He has the resources to pull something like this. He found out about the lineup and he sent you that text message.”
Carey closed her eyes. Part of her nightmare was supposed to end tonight. The Vagabond Killer had been in custody, she was going to pick him out of the lineup and send him to a lifetime in prison. Now she was neck-deep in trouble. Mark had shot at her and Reilly, and the Vagabond Killer was still loose on the streets.
A pregnant pause filled the air with the sound of Reilly’s car engine taking hairpin turns, wheels screaming. “Tell me why Mark wants you dead.”
And the situation got worse. “It’s better if you don’t know.” She didn’t want to burden him with the things she knew about Mark. The car zipped by buildings and streets, making her feel dizzy and out of sorts. Between her terror and confusion, it was difficult to think clearly.
“It’s better if I do. I’ve been shot at. I need to know who I’m dealing with. Abusers will go pretty far to get to their victims, but this guy is taking it to a new, sick level.”
He was right. People were getting hurt because of her. This had to stop.
Another bullet pierced the back windshield. Reilly swore. “They better not hit our tires or we’re screwed. Get on the floor and cover your head.”
Panic renewed in her chest and Carey fought the scream of terror that rose in her throat. She did as Reilly said. Crouched on the floor, she watched Reilly’s face and the determination in his eyes, scared for him, terrified he would get hurt. The car flew over the road, every bump jarring, every turn wild.
“I got the lead on him. Send up a prayer this works,” Reilly said.
Reilly turned off his lights and swerved the car into an abandoned office complex parking lot, sliding the car behind the brown brick building. He left the engine running, watching the rearview mirror.
Carey plowed a hand through her hair. What if he was hurt because of her? He’d nearly been shot. “Where are we going to go? You can’t take me to your parents’ ranch. We can’t risk being followed. He’ll find me. He will never stop looking.” Her worst fear realized, she’d been a fool to think she was safe. She’d never be safe and she’d always be a danger to the people around her.
Reilly’s eyes never left the mirror. “We need to think this through and figure out our next steps.”
Our
next steps. Implying they were in this together.
Reilly took a deep breath. “I think we lost them.” He pulled the car onto the road again, scanning the area around them, and drove at a normal speed.
Carey crawled into the passenger seat, her legs feeling weak and her arms trembling. “Tell me what you need me to do.” She needed to feel useful and not like a burden.
“You can start by telling me about Mark.”
Indecision weighed on her, mixing with heavy guilt. If Reilly didn’t know how dangerous Mark was, he wouldn’t know how to protect himself. It was a matter of time before Reilly put together the pieces, and holding back the information was going to get him killed. If he knew who she was, he might be finished protecting her. But for his safety, she had to come clean.
Knowing she was risking him being disgusted, she took a deep breath and struggled to find her voice. “Mark is a millionaire many times over. He’s ruthless and he’s obsessive. Right now, he’s obsessed with having me dead. He knows I’m the only person in the world who can take away the life he loves.”
To his credit, Reilly didn’t appear fazed. “How can you do that?”
She took a deep breath. She had to force the words from her mouth and ignore the mounting trepidation that Reilly would leave her. “He’s the leader of an extensive crime ring. And he knows my testimony could put him behind bars.”
Chapter 9