Checkmate (Caitlin Calloway Mystery Book 2) (14 page)

Tonight she had been seeking a simple physical connection. Her daughter was away for the night. Her loving sister and her wife were otherwise engaged. It was the perfect chance to get out and find a little fun. From the moment she stepped into the overcrowded nightclub, she knew she was wasting her time. The room was packed with women she viewed as kids. The few that she felt were more age appropriate did nothing to spark her interest.

She sat on the sofa and kicked off her shoes while she tried to decide whether or not just to call it a night or try to get some work done.

“Maybe I should check on Caitlin and Jamie.” She pondered the idea for a brief moment, but quickly realized the couple were probably enjoying a little alone time. “Yeah, they might not be up for company.” She chuckled at the idea.

She climbed the stairs and showered. Once she tossed on a pair of ratty old boxers and a Red Sox T-shirt, she returned downstairs and made herself a cup of tea with a dash of honey. The house was too quiet. As she nestled on the living room sofa, she reminded herself that Emma would be home tomorrow. She had looked forward to having a little adult time; now in the calmness of the evening, all she wanted was for her baby to be home.

“Enjoy the quiet.” She closed her eyes, ready to embrace the calmness.

Just as her body relaxed, a sharp knock at the front door disrupted her solitude. Frightened by the late-night visitor, Stevie raced to the door. She peered through the peephole while trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She hated peepholes. Everyone looked like a clown posing in front of a circus mirror.

“Okay, it’s a woman,” she muttered, not feeling any safer. “I think.” She took another look. “Who is it?”

“Deputy Brown, US Marshal,” the dark, distorted figure said in a stern voice. Before Stevie could ask, a badge displaying a circled silver star was displayed for her benefit. Stevie was cautious as she opened the door just a bit. She took a closer inspection of the badge. It seemed legit, and it would explain the strange car circling the neighborhood.

“Sorry.” She didn’t open the door any farther.

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, ma’am.”

“No worries,” Stevie mumbled, taking a good look at her guest for the first time. Deputy Brown stood about five seven and was clad in a dark blazer, crisp white blouse, and firmly pressed black slacks. The standard issue attire did nothing to conceal the marshal’s firm body. 
Now why wasn’t she hanging around the club tonight?
Stevie silently pondered.

“Are you Stevie Calloway?” the marshal asked in a curious tone.

“Yes.”

“I’m here about Albert Beaumont.”

“My father?” Stevie groaned with disgust. “Last I heard, the sick son of a bitch was rotting away in a Connecticut prison.”

“He was moved to a halfway house.”

“Isn’t that just dandy.”

“He’s missing. It’s probably nothing, but he failed to check in the other night.”

“Great,” Stevie said with a snarl. “Look, if you think he’s here, you’ve wasted your time.” She stepped aside, allowing Deputy Brown to enter her home. She admired the commanding gait the deputy possessed. “I haven’t seen my father since my sister and I were forced to take out a restraining order against him and dear old Mom.” Stevie took advantage of the deputy’s back being turned to sneak a peek at her well-defined backside. At that moment, Stevie realized just how badly she needed to get laid.

“I saw that in his file.” The deputy turned around to face Stevie. “Your sister was granted custody when you were sixteen?”

“My father is a pedophile, and my mother is an idiot. It wasn’t a tough call.”

“And your sister is a cop.”

“That helped. Now if there’s nothing else?”

“Just…”

Stevie was surprised by the hesitation and uncertainty in the marshal’s voice. “You have a child? A daughter?”

“You’re very thorough. Yes. Emma.”

“Is she here?”

Stevie was unnerved by the way Brown’s voice wavered ever so slightly. “No, she’s spending time with her father.” As nice as Deputy Brown was to look at, her reason for being there was more than a little unsettling. “Why?”

“Sorry,” the deputy said softly, sounding slightly remorseful. “It’s just that your father’s type is young girls in your daughter’s age range. It wouldn’t be unheard of—”

“I doubt my, for lack of a better term, my ‘father’ even knows I have a daughter,” Stevie said. “I cut off all contact with my parents a long time ago.”

“I figured, but fugitives don’t tend to be very smart.”

“Good thing for you.”

“Yes, it is.” The marshal smiled for the first time. “Most of them head for one of three things, family, a home cooked meal, or sex. You’d think they’d just run as far and as fast as they can, but they usually don’t. Mr. Beaumont was in a halfway house. He was close to being a free man, then he just ran. Doesn’t make sense. Then again a lot of these guys lack common sense. Your sister lives next door?”

“Yes, but I’d come back in the morning.” Stevie smirked at the way Brown’s body stiffened. “Look, we’re not hiding that sick son of bitch. She’s spending some quality time with her wife. She’ll be at her station tomorrow night. If I were you, that’s when I’d go to see her. Now, if you don’t mind?” She showed her visitor to the door.

*   *  *

CC was happily nestled in Jamie’s arms, caressing the supple curves of her body. The sounds of the
William Tell Overture
disrupted her ministrations.

“What the…”

“It’s Stevie.” Jamie groaned with disgust. “That’s the ring tone I programmed for her.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” CC groused, torn between making love to her wife and answering the phone.

“Better answer it.” Jamie nudged CC off her overheated body.

“I like it better when you tell me to get my gun and shoot the phone.” She grumbled snatching up the phone. “This better be good,” CC barked into the phone. She listened, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Okay, I’m on my way over.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not good.” CC crawled out of bed and tossed on the first articles of clothing she could lay her hands on. “I need to get downstairs.”

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“Stevie’s father escaped.”

Chapter 15

Deputy Brown stood on the stoop wondering why she was nervous. Perhaps it was anytime she had heard Caitlin Calloway’s name mentioned, she sounded too good to be true. Based on some of the stories she had heard, she almost expected Wonder Woman to open the door. Val had also entertained a few ideas of how she’d engage in interagency cooperation. Pity, Brooks failed to mention that Calloway was a happily married woman.

Val knew in her heart that neither Beaumont’s daughter nor stepdaughter had a clue as to his whereabouts. But there was a professional courtesy that she needed to extend. Not as up close and personal as she had originally planned. Still she was more than a little concerned that Beaumont might want to seek revenge. If Caitlin Calloway was half as direct as her kid sister, Val’s work would be done not long after she knocked on the door.

I’d like to give her a heads up about Beaumont. Just hope she doesn’t ask why I didn’t do it sooner.
She loudly rapped the brass
door knocker. She tilted her head slightly when she detected a soft
whirring sound just above her, but she didn’t look up. She had
deduced that she was on camera. Calloway was a cop, and given the
events of her past, a little extra home security was to be expected.

Val reached inside her dark blazer, extracted her badge, and
held it up for the benefit of the camera before she was requested to
do so.

“Stubborn.”

She jumped, slightly angry that she hadn’t heard the occupant
of the house stepping out onto her porch. It wasn’t the smug tone in Stevie Calloway’s voice that disturbed her. Val just wasn’t
accustomed to having someone get the drop on her.

“Just wanted to introduce myself,” she gruffly explained when
the door she was standing in front of opened.

“And now you have,” another voice said.

“Somehow I’d thought you’d be taller,” she said as she took in
the infamous Caitlin Calloway. “From the way Brooks goes on
about you. I thought you could walk on water. Deputy Val Brown,
US Marshal.” Val really enjoyed announcing herself. She missed
the navy, but opening with a flash of her badge and announcing her
job was cool. Another part of her thought she was a little dorky for
getting such a kick out of it.

“Fugitive Task Force?” CC asked, taking a good look at the
marshal’s badge.

“Yes.”

“You know Brooks, from San Diego?”

“Had a runner head out his way awhile back.” She pocketed
her credentials. “He and I became friends. He was always going on
and on about this weasel named Fisher. Then a few years ago, he
told me about the great CC Calloway who bagged him. I was in the
area on another case, this popped up, and I decided to meet the
legend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look,” Val mumbled, knowing she was way out of her depth.
“Consider it a professional courtesy. I seriously doubt that either
you or your sister would harbor a criminal, much less one you hate
so much. Shoot him, maybe, but not harbor. On the other hand, I
looked at the file and I’m concerned that Beaumont might be
wanting a little payback. After you took custody of your sister, there
wasn’t a cop up here or down in Rhode Island that wasn’t watching
this guy.”

“Which is why he and dear old Mom beat feet to Connecticut,”
CC said dryly. “Where he got busted for trolling a playground. My
sister told me that he bolted from a halfway house.”

Val wasn’t surprised that Stevie had called her sister to alert
her to the situation. “Two weeks into his stay, he just stopped
coming home,” she said. “Not out of the ordinary. These buggers
get a little taste of freedom and can’t handle it. The only reason
we’re busting our hump on this bastard is because he’s a level three
sex offender. Add a personal connection to a cop.”

“I get it.” CC seemed to relax ever so slightly. “Stop by the
precinct tomorrow after three. We can talk then. In the meantime,
my niece is with her father who, believe it or not, is even more
overprotective than I am.”

“He is,” Stevie confirmed with a smug grin that irked Val.

“If that’s all, Deputy, I’ll see you tomorrow, at the station.”

Interesting
was the only word Val could conjure up once she
had returned to her black sedan. She had been honest with the stoic
detective. She did just happen to be in the area and got caught up in
the case. She didn’t feel a need to explain that she was more
interested in meeting the great Caitlin Calloway than she was in the
case.

The deeper Val dug into the file, the more interested she
became. It was a curious case. If she had to bet money on the reason
why Beaumont bolted, she’d bet that either he found out about his
granddaughter and decided to pay a visit or somehow Detective
Calloway finally had dealt with him. If the situation resulted in the
latter, Val certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over a dead pedophile.

If there was the slightest chance, however, that Emma
Calloway was in danger, she wanted to be there. Caitlin Calloway
intrigued her almost as much as Stevie Calloway did. Now there
was an interesting woman.

Why was a woman like that home alone on a night like
tonight? Val shook her head, feeling the need to focus. She had a
rabbit on the run. No matter how enticing the younger Calloway
sister appeared to be, this was business. She started the car and set
out to get to work. The Boston Police had their own Fugitive Task
Force. One of the best in the country. They graciously allowed her
to set up office as long as she allowed them to work the case with
her. Capt. Mills had been assigned to watch over her. She was also
working with the local marshals. Pity they didn’t have one tenth of
Mills’s enthusiasm.

Val understood she was poaching in their backyard. The police
weren’t thrilled with her presence either. Feds and locals rarely got
along. But she had a pedophile to track down, and her gut told her
she’d find something here that would help in her quest.

She returned to the Fugitive Task Force office in downtown
Boston and set about getting some work done.

“Tell me,” she asked Mills, “what you know about Caitlin
Calloway. She’s with the three-three out of Boylston.”

“I know CC,” Mills gruffly answered. “She’s a good cop.
Damn good cop.”

Val wasn’t taken aback by her surly response. She had just
asked about one of her own. In the world of law enforcement, what
she had just done was the equivalent of questioning her sister’s
morals.

“Just asking.”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re onto, but Calloway
is a good cop,” Mills repeated. “Tell you what I do know about
Calloway. She took a bullet to save her partner. And a few years
back when she bagged that idiot Fisher, she had a shot. Didn’t take
it. Cause that’s not who she is.”

“She could have popped the weasel?”

“Hey, not like anyone in the room would have rolled on her.
What would you do if you caught some psycho trying to kill your
girlfriend?”

“I would have shot him and worried about my career later.”

“She didn’t. It wasn’t her career she was worried about it was her soul. So, she played it by the book. Even got him to confess.
Because she held it together, the Jensen family finally got to bury
their little girl. Played the little shit like a fiddle. I heard his lawyers
were there when she did it.”

“She’s smart.” Val opened the file sitting in front of her. “And
not going to do what I was afraid she would.”

“Which is?”

“Waste Beaumont.”

“Would you lose any sleep if she did?” Mills snorted with
disgust.