“You can’t just keep me here.” Grimes blustered, dropping both feet to the floor and waving an index finger at Sal. “I know my rights. Tell me right now why you are detaining me.”
Sal closed the folder and went for the jugular. “You’ve been having an affair with Stephanie Murdock for over six months. When were you planning on telling your wife?”
The bluster went out of Joe Grimes as quickly as if someone had popped a balloon, but still he tried to hold on to the lie.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t know about the every-other-Saturday rendezvous at the Marriott in St. Louis? You don’t know about the diamond bracelet and watch placed on your personal charge card?”
Sal stood and picked up the folder.
“Okay, I’ll go next door and have this same conversation with your wife. Maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe the diamonds were a gift for her.”
Sal had his hand on the doorknob before Grimes recovered enough to speak.
“Wait!”
Sal paused at the door but didn’t come back inside.
“Yes. I’ve been having an affair.” The man dropped his head and his shoulders slumped forward.
Sal crossed the room and sat back down at the table. “Now let’s keep telling the truth, okay?”
Grimes nodded.
“How long have you been seeing Ms. Murdock.”
“Seven months.”
“Were you intending to leave your wife?”
“No, of course not.” Fear shone from his eyes. “Whoever told you that lied. I love my wife. I would never leave her.”
“Just cheat on her, is that it?”
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of what I’ve done. It…it just happened.”
“Tell me about the argument you had with Mr. Henderson.”
Grimes looked shocked. He sat up straight in his chair and just blinked.
“You did have an argument with David Henderson on August twenty-second, didn’t you, Mr. Grimes?”
“We…I…” His eyes darted around the room before he settled down, took a deep breath and came clean. “Yes, David and I had words.”
“About Ms. Murdock?
“Yes. I’d given Henderson keys to my office so he could install a new financial software package on my computer after hours. He mixed up the date that I expected him to come and discovered Stephanie and I…”
“Why did your dalliances bother Henderson?”
“They didn’t, really. Let’s face it, he’s a man. He knew how it was. He was more concerned about his own butt.”
Sal arched an eyebrow.
“If his wife found out he knew about us and didn’t tell… That’s really why he was pushing the issue.”
“Where were you the night of August fifteenth?”
Grimes looked up and shot him a puzzled look.
“What?”
“August fifteenth. Saturday night, three weeks ago. Does Smitty’s bar ring a bell?”
“Smitty’s bar?” Grimes twisted his face like he’d just been presented with a foul odor. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that place.”
“Funny you should say that. Somebody was found dead behind the bar on August fifteenth.”
Liz flattened her hand against the glass. This was it. The moment of truth. Every other suspect had been cleared. Grimes had to be the killer. Otherwise…
Please. Let it be you. Please. Please.
“I was at a charity function in St. Louis on August fifteenth with my wife. More than a hundred people will back that up. I was one of the guest speakers.”
She hadn’t been aware she was holding her breath until Grimes produced an ironclad alibi and the air burst from her lungs.
Liz pushed back from the glass and fought for composure. Grimes had been her last hope. Now she’d be forced to make a decision that once made could never be taken back.
She stared at Sal through the mirror and a thousand other scenarios rushed through her head. Sal slouching in front of her desk, handing her her morning coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar, gun drawn and at her back more than once, sitting at her side through thick and thin. A sounding board. A clown. A partner. A dear, dear friend.
Adam’s words from last night rang in her head.
“I have faith in you, Lizzie. You’re one of the smartest, bravest women I’ve ever met. Whatever you’re wrestling with, you’re strong enough to get through it. When you do, I’ll be right here, waiting for you when it’s over.”
Liz glanced through the glass once more. The thought of having to cuff Sal and put him behind bars soured her stomach and broke her heart. But she had to do what she had to do.
While Sal continued the interview, Liz took the opportunity to slip into the restroom. She used the facilities, threw some water on her face and braced herself for what was ahead. Releasing the cuffs from her belt, she headed to the interrogation room.
She threw open the door. The room was empty.
Liz hurried toward the front of the office just in time to see Mr. Grimes, head bowed, walking out the front door.
“Darlene, what’s going on? Where’s Sal?”
“He told me to release Mr. Grimes and he ran out of here. Said he had someplace important he had to be.”
Someplace important?
Liz raced for the door, pulling her cell phone from her pocket as she ran.
Please, Lord. Keep them safe. Let me get there in time.
FOURTEEN
A
dam stood on the front porch. He didn’t have long to wait. Liz’s patrol car, kicking up clouds of dust, fishtailed in the turn of the driveway and skidded to a stop.
He jumped off the three porch steps, rushed around to the driver’s side and had the door open before she had released her seat belt.
“What’s wrong? All you said on the phone was ‘pack and be ready to go.’”
Liz brushed past him toward the house with Adam in tow.
“Did you do it? Are you packed?”
Adam caught up with her, grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Lizzie, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain in the car. We’ve got to get out of here right now. Please tell me you’ve packed.”
Her eyes revealed her panic and fear. She started to turn away but he held her firmly in place.
“Liz, stop.”
She looked at him. The expression on her face shook him to the core. This wasn’t tough, stoic, in-control Sheriff Bradford. Something bad had happened. But what?
“Sweetheart, take a deep breath. Calm down and talk to me.”
Perhaps it was the endearment that caught her off guard, or maybe it was the deep concern that she could probably see in his eyes, or maybe the gentleness of his voice, but the dam finally broke and this hard-as-nails tough cop broke down into a sobbing, scared, vulnerable woman. “I’ve been so wrong, Adam…about everything…about everyone.”
“Shh. It will be okay.” He folded her into his arms. The trembling of her body made him deepen his embrace. All he wanted to do was protect her, shelter her. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out…together. But you need to calm down and talk to me.”
She clutched the front of his shirt and looked up at him. Her eyes shimmered like two beautiful blue lakes overflowing their banks.
“Is Jeremy okay?”
“Of course. Charlie and Rerun are with him. They’re upstairs packing.”
She swiveled her head and looked toward the horizon, her eyes scanning the yard and the neighboring fields of tall grass.
“Has anyone been here? Have you received any phone calls in the past hour or so? Even sales calls. Tell me if you did.”
“No, Liz. No one came. No one called. Just you.” He released his hold. His brow furrowed and a frown pulled at his mouth. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
She tugged at his hand. “Inside. It isn’t safe out here.”
They moved into the living room. Liz raced to the window, stood to the side and edged the lace curtain aside. When he saw her hand rest on her gun, he didn’t wait for an explanation. Immediately, he withdrew a key from his pocket, crossed to the fireplace, unlocked the box on the mantel and withdrew his Glock.
Liz glanced over her shoulder. “What are you doing? Put that away. I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, Adam. I can’t watch everything and everyone. I have enough to worry about without you walking around with a loaded gun.”
“Good. Then you can concentrate on whatever threat you think is going to come up that driveway. You know I have the necessary permits to carry this and, even though you haven’t seen me in action, I assure you that I could give you a run for your money on any target range.”
He crossed the room and stood slightly behind her on the left, close enough to be able to shoot out the window if necessary, far enough behind that he wouldn’t distract her or make her feel she’d have to split her attention to protect him.
The air had a palpable tension, yet he refused to question her further. She reminded him of a stallion he’d once seen Bob work with back on the Montana ranch. He had been trying to domesticate the animal, get it used to the feel of a saddle on its back, then slowly the weight of a man. He never forgot the panicked, wild look in the animal’s eyes as it rose on its hind legs, striking the air with its forelegs, fighting an invisible threat for its survival.
He saw that panicked, wild look in Liz’s eyes now.
So, he did what Bob had done. He stayed close but gave her space. He gave her enough rope to think she was free yet kept hold tight enough to control the situation if necessary. And he waited.
And just like the stallion that fought and reared and paced, when adrenaline no longer raced through Liz’s bloodstream, she regained control. Her breathing became deep, slow, steady breaths instead of hyperventilating pants. Her spine straightened. She threw her shoulders back.
Adam knew from her body language the instant Liz had found her tough-as-nails sheriff persona and had put it back on. His assessment was confirmed when she turned and locked her gaze with his.
“I’ve called in the federal marshals. We can’t protect Jeremy any longer. I’ve asked them to put him in the witness protection program.”
Adam blinked hard. He hadn’t known what to expect but it hadn’t been this, and it took a minute to deal with the surprise.
“They’re going to meet us in town, at the back door of Mrs. Willowby’s general store in two hours.”
“Mrs. Willowby’s? Not the sheriff’s office?”
“No one will expect us to be meeting at her place. Even Mrs. Willowby doesn’t have a clue we’re coming her way. There’s an alley between buildings and a second alley between the back of her home and two stand-alone garages in the back. It’s an easily protected and safe place to make the switch.”
All her senses were on alert but, after one more scan of the grounds, she seemed satisfied that she had made it to the house before the person she expected and that they weren’t in imminent danger—yet.
“Are you packed?”
“I can be. I didn’t know whether an overnight bag was sufficient. Apparently, you had a more lengthy departure in mind. I’ll put Charlie in the loop and be right back.”
He took the stairs two at a time, told Charlie what he needed from her and returned downstairs to find a much more relaxed, in-control Liz in the kitchen. She’d actually put on a pot of coffee.
“I’m sorry I panicked before.” She offered a tremulous smile. “I thought I was too late. I thought he’d beaten me out here.” She raised a cup. “Coffee?”
“Liz, you’re driving me crazy. You show up in a panic, refuse to answer any of my questions, insist we leave immediately, and now you’re asking me if I want a cup of coffee?” Adam laughed. “I deal with crazies for a living, and you, sweetheart, are moving to the head of the list fast.”
Liz chuckled and poured him a cup.
“I know. I told you that I panicked and overreacted. But I’m pretty sure that we’re safe for the moment. Besides, I sent for reinforcements. Darlene and Paul should be here any moment.”
“So much for keeping this place a secret. I should have known. What’s that old saying? How do you spread a message the fastest? Telephone, telegraph and tell a woman.”
Liz swatted his arm. “That’s not fair. Until Tom put a bug on my car, I was very careful and discreet about this place.”
He nodded and took a mouthful of coffee. The rich aroma and deep-flavored taste helped settle the nerves she’d thrown into high gear when she’d shown up with her “Chicken Little, the sky is falling” scenario.
“Now that you’ve calmed down and have returned to a modicum of sanity, would you like to tell me what’s going on? Why WITSEC? What happened?”
Her eyes glistened and he was afraid she was going to lose it again, but she didn’t. She compartmentalized her emotions and all he saw looking back at him now was Sheriff Bradford.
“We have identified a prime suspect in the murder of a local drug dealer. We have circumstantial evidence and a strong reason to believe that particular homicide is also tied in with the Henderson murders.”
Adam raised his coffee cup but stopped halfway to his mouth at that bombshell of a statement.
“The final ballistics report on the weapon used to shoot out the tires of my car came in, too.”
Her gaze locked with his.
“The bullets were fired from a departmental-issued sniper rifle.”
Adam lowered his cup to the counter before he dropped it.
“Police rifle?”
“It’s Sal, Adam.” A fleeting glimpse of pain shot through her eyes but she didn’t waver. “Sal is our killer.”
“Sal?” Adam laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Where did you get a crazy idea like that? Sal might be a lot of things—narcissistic, competitive, jealous—but a cold-blooded killer? No way. He’s too doggone proud of being a detective. Wherever you got your information, Liz, you’re wrong.”
“I understand how you feel. I had major reservations myself. But the evidence is piling up and everything points to Sal—including an eyewitness to the drug dealer’s murder.”
“I don’t care if you have ten eyewitnesses. I’ve come to know Sal. He’s a good guy who puts on a tough-guy Italian stereotype bravado. He would never hurt a kid.” Adam looked long and hard at her. “And he’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Liz dropped her eyes and sighed heavily. “I feel the same way, Adam. I can’t believe Sal did this. I can’t. But when I finally decided to arrest him and let the courts get to the bottom of it all, he took off.”