Tempting the Devil (18 page)

Ben nodded. The hearing was an appeal on bail for a particularly vicious thug who'd committed several carjackings, usually targeting older people and leaving them badly injured. He didn't want the guy back on the street.

“Then Mahoney should go in my place. He wasn't with me when I made the Carson case so he can't fill in for me there. I'll ask him to keep an eye on Ms. Stuart.”

“You think you can get her to give us her source?” Holland asked.

He hesitated, then said, “I think she will be willing to go to the source and try to get him to agree to our protection. I doubt if she will give him up if he doesn't agree.”

“I'll go to a judge and see whether we can get a GPS unit on her car. It's for her own protection. In the meantime research her. See if there's anything we can use to get her cooperation.”

“I've already done that. She's as clean as a whistle. In ten years, one traffic ticket for speeding. That's it.”

“Keep looking.”

Ben nodded, though he knew any such search was probably useless. Robin Stuart was the epitome of a law-abiding citizen. She was impulsive. Stubborn. Infuriating. But obviously law-abiding.

If only he could convince her …

He wouldn't be able to do that if he continued to pant over her like some adolescent.

“What about protection?” he asked.

“Because of a simple break-in and call? Maybe if she were to give us a name, but now … you know how tight our manpower is.” Holland hesitated, then said, “Keep working on her.”

Ben had the tacit permission he needed. He left Holland's office and went back to his desk. Halfway there, he stopped. Then took out his cell phone and punched a number. A too familiar number.

“Roseview Clinic.”

“Ben Taylor. I'm checking on Dani Taylor.”

“I'll see if the doctor is free.”

In another moment, Dr. Meadows came on the phone.

“How is she?” Ben asked.

A pause. “She's cooperative. I think we're gaining some ground. But you know there are no guarantees.”

He felt the same hopelessness that had haunted him these last eight years. “At least she hasn't left.”

“She needs at least another month.”

Ben's heart sank. The clinic already took nearly half his salary.

“As long as it takes,” he said.

“I'll let you know if there's any changes.”

“Thanks.”

He replaced his cell phone and made his way back to Mahoney.

“You go to the Meredith press conference. Keep an eye on Robin Stuart. Don't let her out of your sight.”

Mahoney questioned with his eyes.

Ben told him what had happened last night.

“The phone call doesn't make sense if they were trying to keep their visit secret.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ben said. “That worries me. It could mean they have someone watching the house.”

“Or,” Mahoney suggested, “it could be a deputy or a member of a deputy's family. She put the onus on the entire department. Every one of them is probably mad as hell.”

“Except maybe one. Her source.”

“Does she have any idea what she's done?”

“I tried to tell her. But damn it, she thinks she's doing the right thing. She's given her word. It's her integrity at stake. God help us from reporters, particularly idealistic ones.”

“How long were you with her last night?”

Ben shrugged. “I took the cat to the vet's, then slept outside. She doesn't even have a home alarm system.”

“Above and beyond, I would say. Is she getting to you?”

“A reporter? Hell no.”

Mahoney raised an eyebrow. “How's Dani?”

Mahoney was one of the few people who knew about Dani. And that only because he had to cover for Ben once when Dani had disappeared from the hospital.

Ben shook his head. “You know the odds, but she's trying. She's really trying this time.”

“It's time you met someone.”

“I meet lots of people.”

“You know what I mean. Terry has some ideas …”

“Can't afford it right now,” Ben replied. “Besides, I don't have time now that we have a lead on Hydra.” He paused. “Just keep a close eye on Robin Stuart.”

Mahoney nodded his head. “I'll be her guardian angel.”

“You'd better be.”

chapter thirteen

Robin saw Kevin leaning against the company car almost immediately after she arrived at the courthouse. He gave her a broad grin as he shouldered his camera gear.

“Lead the way,” he said.

“I have to warn you, they might not like anyone from the
Observer
.”

“I was already warned. I doubt anyone will try anything with all those TV types around.”

He had the print photographer's disdain for TV cameramen. They were technicians. He was an artist, with several awards to prove it.

She looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes before the conference and the courthouse steps were crowded. TV cameras were already in place and reporters were huddled in the usual groups.

She looked around for Ben Taylor, but he wasn't there. Disappointment rushed through her. She did see his partner, though, who stood a short distance away.

Hank Conrad from the local paper rushed over to her. “You've really stirred a hornet's nest. The sheriff is mad as hell. Talking about suing you and the paper.”

“I know.”

His eyes narrowed. “Was that story for real? Do you really have a witness?”

She stared back at him, refusing to dignify the question with an answer.

“Every deputy feels he is being accused,” he said after an uncomfortable silence. “Not only accused of murder, but murdering fellow officers.”

“No one was accused. It was merely pointed out that officers were steered away from the area that night.”

“Same thing in their eyes. Be prepared for a hit during the press conference.”

“I thought as much. Our paper was told I was no longer welcome at the courthouse.”

“You're definitely persona non grata.” He paused. “You don't really think anyone in the sheriff's department was involved, do you?”

“Just think, Hank. What is so big that three cops would be killed, and killed so dramatically? Whoever did it could have dragged the bodies off somewhere, even buried them in those woods back there. Let the county look for them. Maybe forever. There was a message here. Someone doesn't want interference and doesn't mind if everyone knows it. There's a certain arrogance there.”

“It's all supposition.”

“You write your story, and I'll write mine.”

“I'm surprised your paper let you get away with it.”

She was, too. But she wasn't going to admit it.

The sheriff, Chief Deputy Paul Joyner, and the county police chief appeared on the steps and moved to the podium. Kevin moved away from her and took several shots of the three, then the crowd. His eyes, though, kept returning to her.

Sheriff Sammons stepped to the podium. “I have a statement.”

He paused, waited for dramatic emphasis, then continued. “The
Atlanta Observer
printed a story, under the byline of Robin Stuart, in yesterday's editions intimating that someone in this department could be involved in the murders of three Meredith County police officers.

“I categorically deny the accusation and I have instructed our county attorney to begin legal proceedings immediately.”

He looked out, his gaze settling on her. “I see Miss Stuart is here, although our legal counsel advised her paper that we would prefer another reporter. Evidently the
Atlanta Observer
doesn't care about truth and accuracy.”

She tried to keep her face masklike. However, she felt the heat in her cheeks as everyone, including the television cameras, turned toward her like vultures eyeing a particularly tasty mouse. Of all of them, though, the glare that came from Chief Deputy Joyner was the most malevolent. She shivered under its impact.

Kevin moved closer to her. She also saw the FBI agent, Ben Taylor's partner, head in her direction.

“Are you saying it couldn't have happened?” one reporter yelled out.

“What happened last week was like losing a brother, a family member, no matter which department we work for,” the sheriff said. “Any suggestion that one of us would have anything to do with it is a stain on all of us.”

“What about the Hydra?” yelled out one reporter. “Is there any indication Hydra could have been involved?”

“We think our officers interrupted a drug deal. We think it's out-of-state people.”

“How would they know about this particular piece of property? The place where the bodies were found?” another reporter asked.

“There could be a local connection of some kind,” the sheriff said reluctantly.

“I heard it was a clean crime scene,” one reporter said. “Can you tell us what progress you've made?”

“Now, you folks know we don't discuss details of an investigation, but we do have some good leads.”

“Are you saying the
Observer
made up the story?” one television reporter yelled.

“Made it up or talked to someone who was making it up. We would certainly like the name of whoever it was.”

“You going to subpoena her?”

“I'm not going to talk about what we will or will not do.”

It went on that way for thirty minutes. The same questions were asked over and over again. The only offered information was that the
Observer
and Robin Stuart were bad, and progress was being made.

The press conference finally broke up.

Kevin turned to her. “I'll walk you to your car and follow you into the city.”

She shook her head. “I have a few stops to make.”

“I have to get the photos back.”

“I understand. You go on. I'll be fine.”

He gave her a dubious look. “There's some angry people here.”

“I'll be careful,” she said. “I have my cell phone with me. I'll call my story in.”

He frowned. “I don't like it.”

“If I were a man would you worry as much?”

“Damn square I would. It's poisonous here.”

So he'd felt it, too. It hadn't just been anger or righteous indignation. It had been pure hatred.

But the message today had made it clear she was to come alone. Sandy had not been visible today, and she knew that he would not risk a phone call.

“Go,” she said.

“At least let me see you to the car before they try to lynch you.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

On the way, she stopped Hank Conrad, who was walking toward his office.

“See that guy in the blue suit?” she said. “He's FBI. You might ask him why he's here.”

She saw him head toward Ben's partner, Agent Mahoney, and engage his attention.

She hopped in her car, turned on the ignition, and darted into the traffic. As she looked back, she saw Mahoney running for his car. She turned down a side road, took a left, then a right, and parked behind a grocery store.

Guilt filled her. She knew he was probably there to watch her, but she couldn't lead him to Sandy.

She looked at her watch. Almost five p.m. A couple of hours before meeting Sandy.

Glancing often at the rearview mirror, she headed for the east side of the county, even as she kept an eye on the speedometer. She planned to stay at least five miles under the speed limit. She had no doubt that the sheriff's office, and possibly the police department, would love to give her a ticket.

She wasn't going to lead anyone to Sandy. Not the FBI. Not the bad guys.

She stopped at a chain restaurant and ordered a hamburger only because she knew she had to. She'd had only a cup of coffee for breakfast and a package of crackers for lunch, and she didn't do well without food. But the burger tasted like sawdust. She couldn't shake the apprehension that had been hovering in her since last night. Not only for herself but for Sandy.

She had to convince him to go to the FBI.

Robin left half of the burger on the plate, paid the bill, and went back outside. She had more than a few second thoughts about this. But she didn't feel she had a choice. He had more information for her, information he obviously didn't want to give to the FBI. She wanted the story but even more she wanted Sandy to go to the FBI.

Thank God for the daylight that lingered far into evening. It would still be light when she met him.

When she got back in the car, she checked her glove compartment. Her gun was there. Then she called Wade and told him she was going to meet her source.

“Alone?”

“That's the only way he'll show.”

“Where?”

Reluctantly she gave him the name of the school. “If you don't hear from me before seven thirty, call the FBI. Not the locals.”

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Wade said.

“I trust my source,” she said. “The school's safe.”

Still, a hard fist of fear grew in her stomach even as her adrenaline level started to rise. This could be the biggest story of her career. A major crime organization brought down. Corruption in the sheriff's department.

And justice. There would be justice for three slain police officers.

She drove three miles and turned down a two-lane road. She glanced at the clock. Twenty to seven. She remembered the road. The school was about five miles away.

Something made her glance in the rearview mirror.

A dark SUV was behind her. She tensed. Then tried to relax. Nothing to worry about. She hadn't seen it before; it couldn't be following her. She turned her attention to the winding road ahead. It was empty. She glanced at the rearview mirror again. The SUV had closed on her car.

She speeded up, trying to keep an eye on the mirror even as the winding road demanded her attention. The SUV moved even closer. Her car lurched at the same time she heard the clash of metal in back. She jerked in her seat, grateful for the seat belt.