Walk Away, page 18
“You get that from Way?”
“We have our own resources. We don’t have to go through the marshals. But the groundwork they did isn’t going to waste.”
“I’m glad it’s working out for you.”
Brock let the silence grow between them. Camaro didn’t look at him. Annabel’s face was obscured with tape and plastic and blanched almost completely pale. She was bloodless.
“It must be hard to keep the kind of secrets the two of you have kept,” Brock said.
“You people don’t have any idea. Not about either of us.”
“Look, I’ve talked to Deputy Hannon. I know all about your past. I don’t know where the two of you keep your stash, but I know you have it somewhere. That doesn’t interest me. You can keep whatever you have. God knows if I got out of New Orleans one step ahead of some of the wrong people, I think I’d deserve some peace and quiet in a nice town like Carmel. Or on a boat in the Atlantic. But now people are dying in my neck of the woods, and I can’t ignore that.”
“So what do you want?”
“You killed Jacob Collier.”
“I did.”
“Lukas Collier tried to kill your sister.”
Camaro remained silent.
“If it were me, and someone did that to my sister, I’d want payback. Don’t you?”
Camaro looked at Annabel instead of Brock. “It wouldn’t break my heart if Lukas Collier died tomorrow.”
“I don’t doubt it. And I’m pretty sure you’d like to pull the trigger on him yourself.”
“So what?”
“So I’d rather you not do that.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I think your sister’s suffered enough. Jake Collier was a bad guy, and I don’t need to have much imagination to know what that meant for her. She called on you to help, and you did. He’s dead now. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to resolve the situation, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would let your sister just leave him. I understand how it works, I’ve seen it more times than I care to remember. Some folks would go after the both of you for what happened, maybe put you in prison. Maybe her, too.”
Camaro turned her gaze on Brock. “My sister’s innocent. If you want to take somebody, then you take me, but leave her alone.”
“I will. Looking at her in this bed…she’s paid a worse price than doing time.”
Camaro regarded Brock carefully. “What do you want from me?”
“Walk away. You did what you came here to do.”
“Lukas is still out there.”
“And we’ll get him. But you need to think about what’s best for you, your sister, and your niece. If you go after this guy — if you kill him, or even if you try and miss the mark — I won’t have any choice. You’ll have to go down. What good is that for anyone?”
Camaro didn’t answer. She turned to Annabel again and listened to the hiss of mechanical air feeding her sister’s lungs. “You seem really interested in seeing us get through this.”
“That’s because I’m on the side of the good guys,” Brock said. He headed for the door. “Think about it. But don’t think too long.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
AFTER CAMARO ESPINOZA had gone, they sat in the car together for a long time without talking or going anywhere. The engine idled, and warm air blew from the vents.
Finally Hannon had to speak. “That can’t happen again.”
Way made a noise that sounded like the start of a protest, but it was quashed. Instead, he said, “I know.”
“The deal was Lukas. That was all. Collateral damage is unacceptable.”
“I said I know.”
Hannon breathed out. “Derrick Perkins is in the wind. We need to change tactics if we’re going to scoop him up.”
“She rousted him,” Way said bitterly. “If we’d gotten here ten minutes sooner…”
“It’s done. We don’t have to let it ruin everything. This whole area is tiny, and he only has so many places he can hide. We start with the most likely and work our way down the list.”
“We need to split up.”
Hannon looked at him sidelong. “Why?”
“We can’t be welded together at the hip. If we work apart, we can cover more ground. Besides which, there’s the FBI situation to deal with. That Brock asshole is going to pull the football out of the way before we have a chance to kick. I can’t let that happen.”
“So where do you want to go?”
“Salinas. Drop me off at the courthouse. I’m going to start with the Superior Court and work my way up from there. Whoever I have to get out of bed, I will. This is a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. Time people knew it.”
Way put the car in gear, and they drove away. Hannon looked out the window, but she thought intensely. “While you’re doing that, I’m going to follow up on Perkins,” she said. “He’s not out of this yet.”
“Perkins is going to lead us right to the man,” Way agreed. “These guys around here, they’re just wannabes. They don’t know how we operate. They think this is just like dealing with the local cops. What do you have in mind?”
“His place first. I know it’s a long shot, but I have a feeling.”
“You better hope Camaro Espinoza doesn’t screw it up,” Way said. He smacked the wheel with the heel of his hand. “She’s a danger to herself and others.”
“If I see her, I’ll deal with her,” Hannon said. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
“I do worry. We can’t have someone running around, getting under our feet. The FBI is bad enough. If she doesn’t watch it, she’s gonna get herself killed.”
“But not by you,” Hannon said.
“What? Of course not.”
“You had me concerned, Keith. I didn’t know what to think.”
“You don’t have to think about it at all. I have a lid on it now.”
“Okay,” Hannon said, but she watched Way for any sign in his face. Only when there was none did she turn back to the night view slipping by the window.
They made good time back to Salinas and at last came to a stop in front of the Monterey County Superior Court. It was an Art Deco building with a bas-relief of a sword-wielding and sighted Justice above the main entrance. Carved faces looked out from beneath every second-floor window. Way put the car in park. “You take the car,” he said. “I’ll work out a ride.”
Hannon got out of the car with Way. They exchanged sides. Way looked frazzled, and she wondered how she looked to him. “I’ll be in touch,” she told Way.
“I know. Be careful, okay? Lukas is out there.”
“I won’t try to take him alone.”
“Good. Because he’s mine. He’s always going be mine.” Way gave her a look filled with a contained darkness and then turned toward the steps. Hannon got behind the wheel. She stayed until she saw Way go inside, and then she pulled away from the curb.
She drove with the image of Way and Camaro Espinoza at the forefront of her thoughts. She imagined a step further, a moment longer, a decision made, and then she imagined Camaro Espinoza dead on the ground. There had been no question in Hannon’s mind that Way could have killed her, would have killed her if the circumstances were only slightly altered. Hannon did not like the road down which that ran.
Hannon felt Jerry Washington’s loss. He was funny, he was dedicated, and he was the best friend a person could have when they needed one. He’d been there for Hannon when she needed someone. They never talked about it afterward.
Way and Jerry were bonded in a very real way, like men who’d shared the same foxhole during a terrible artillery barrage and come out unscathed.
The mood had been black when Lukas Collier killed Jerry. The commander handed her the case and instructed her to take on whichever partner would be best suited for the task of finding Lukas and putting him away. Way came to her then and told her what it meant to him to follow the trail. She let him in.
She’d known what she was doing. Way had never hidden his agenda from her. No one would say it out loud, but they all thought the same thing. Cuffs or a bullet. Cuffs led to a stainless steel table and the needle. A bullet was a more efficient way of reaching the same conclusion. She made an agreement with Way, and then they followed the trail. Norfolk had been close, so close, and now they were close again.
No police unit had been stationed in front of Derrick Perkins’s home. A request to the locals had opened up an opportunity for Derrick to slip inside. They patrolled frequently, but he was invited into the gaps in the hope that he would expose himself going in or coming out.
Hannon slotted into place in front of an undistinguished-looking white house with blue trim a little way down from Derrick’s duplex. She switched off the engine and let the hot metal slowly tick into coolness under the night sky.
She was tired. She made a note of all the cars and trucks on the street. One light was on at Derrick’s house, burning in the carport. The rest of the place was dark.
Two hours passed. Headlights turned in at the far end of the block, then winked out. Hannon yawned and went on watching. When she saw the shadowy figure moving along the sidewalk, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
The man drew closer, but he was just a shape until he passed beneath the glow of a streetlight. Even at a distance she recognized Derrick Perkins. He moved past the houses, trying his best to stick to the darkness, before slipping across the lawn of his duplex and heading for the front door. Hannon saw the pale oval of his face as he looked around once before disappearing inside.
Hannon reached for her phone. She had it in her hand but then paused. She put it down. In the dark she waited for him to emerge again.
Chapter Fifty
YATES WATCHED DERRICK’S place for hours, parked across the street and down two doors, where he had a full view of the duplex without being too obvious about it. He paid no attention to the cold, not running the engine even for warmth.
His body was hungry, but he did not allow that to distract him. Cars came and went. Yates waited with tension in his spine whenever a new vehicle appeared on the street, and remained coiled until he saw neither driver nor passenger was Derrick or Lukas.
It was false dawn when his phone rang. It was shrill and startling in the absolute quiet of the SUV’s cabin, and Yates hastened to silence it. He checked the number and answered. “Hello, darlin’,” he said.
“Jeremy,” his wife said, “why haven’t you called?”
“I didn’t want to call until I had something for sure.”
“And you don’t?”
“I might. I don’t want to get either of our hopes up.”
“You sound tired.”
“I’m fine.”
Yates imagined her in their home. She was small and frail, four years older than he was but carrying the years differently. Some days she seemed younger and more vital, but other times he saw the age weighing on her, and it reminded him that fifty-three years was a long time and no marriage lasted forever. In the end there was no choice but to part.
“Are you there?”
“I’m here. Sorry. Maybe I am a little tired. A little.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“You have to eat, Jeremy. Tell me you’re eating.”
“I’m eating,” he lied. “I had a big chicken-fried steak for dinner last night with a baked potato. It was almost as good as one of yours.”
“Are you staying safe? Are you letting the police do their job?”
“Yes. I’m only here to help. When it comes time to bring Lukas in, I’ll step back and let them do all the heavy lifting. Then it’s back on a plane and home again. I promise.”
Trish was quiet awhile. “I dreamed about Stanley.”
“Don’t torture yourself, Trish.”
“No, it was a good dream. He told me he made it to the other side and was with Grandma and Grandpa. He looked good, Jeremy. Healthy. And he didn’t have that silly chin beard. You know how much I hated that thing.”
“I know. I guess Saint Peter doesn’t allow any chin beards through the pearly gates.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not,” Yates said. “I never would.”
“He told me to tell you not to blame yourself. He made a mistake, he said, but it wasn’t your fault.”
“I think that’s all I want to hear about this dream,” Yates said.
“He said it, Jeremy. He wants you to know it’s not your fault what happened. He knows you’re taking it hard, and he wants to take that burden from you.”
Yates looked at the dome light above his head and sighed. “I don’t blame myself. I blame Lukas Collier and his gun. And Lukas is going to pay for everything he’s done. In this life and the next. There’s no heaven for him.”
“I love you, Jeremy.”
“I love you, too. I have to go.”
“Call me soon.”
“I will. Good-bye, darlin’.” He ended the call and put his phone in the cup holder.
“Dreams,” he said out loud. He heard the bitter sound in his voice and was angry at himself for it. He turned his mind to the scene on the street, the darkened duplex where Derrick kept his home. It was possible Derrick had beaten him there, but it was unlikely. The woman, Rosalinda, was sleeping in her bed alone. Maybe she knew where Derrick was, maybe she did not. Sooner or later Yates would have to move, and that move would be toward her.
The hint of motion on the street caught the corner of his eye, and he peered into the shadows. Someone approached, and Yates knew without having to see more that it was Derrick. No honest man moved in this way, starting and stopping in the darkness and skittering past the light like a startled cockroach. Yates drew his gun and put his hand on the door handle.
Derrick came closer, then hightailed it across his lawn to the door before vanishing inside. Yates did not get out. He put his gun away and grabbed his phone. He dialed, and after one ring Camaro answered. “He’s here,” Yates said.
“I’m coming. Give me the address again. I’ll take a cab.”
Yates checked the rearview mirror as a car appeared at the end of the block and cruised closer. He waited until it passed and only then realized he’d been holding his breath. “Tell them to drop you at the corner,” he said. “Come in quiet. You’ll see me across the street. We’ll visit him together.”
“I’m going now.”
“Good, because I don’t know how long it’ll be before he scoots again.”
Camaro hung up without saying good-bye. Yates forced himself still and went on watching.
Chapter Fifty-One
CAMARO DID AS Yates instructed and had the cab let her out a block away from Derrick’s place. She approached on the far side of the street, looking out for Yates’s SUV and spotting it from fifty yards away.
Yates unlocked the passenger door for her. She got in. It was no warmer inside than out. “You made good time.”
“I got lucky. There was a cab making a drop-off in Carmel when I made the call.”
“What about the cops? They see you on the way out?”
“They saw me go into my sister’s place. They probably think I’m still in there.”
“Then we have a little advantage. I’ve seen a couple of cops cruise the place while I’ve been waiting, but no one’s settling in. They must not think Derrick’s worth sitting on, or maybe they’re playing a different game. The important thing is that we have a clear window to get this done.”
“I have a problem,” Camaro said.
“What is it?”
Camaro told him about Brock. She watched his face as she relayed the story. His face was stony, and he showed no reaction until she was done.
Yates sighed. “So I take it because you’re here that you’re not going to take this Special Agent Brock’s advice?”
“That’s right.”
“I suppose it’s your call to make. But I think you ought to consider what might come from this.”
“I already thought about it.” Camaro checked the house. It was dead. The sky was lightening. “He’s still in there?”
“Unless he ducked out the back. He’ll move before dawn, though. I can guarantee it.”
“Then let’s go.”
She opened her door. Yates stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Hold on a second.”
Camaro shrugged his hand away. “What’s the problem?”
“Do we have a plan, or is this cowboy time again?”
“I can go in alone,” Camaro said.
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
“This guy is a leech. He’s not gonna hurt me.”
“Thinking like that is what gets people hurt.”
“Well, what’s your suggestion, old man?”
“I’m only giving you the benefit of my experience. You go in there like a steamroller, you might get more than you bargained for.”
Camaro eased the door shut again. The dome light went out. She reached for the small of her back beneath her jacket and drew Annabel’s Glock. “I’m going in there with you or without you. I’d rather you came along. But if you don’t, I have my backup right here.”
Yates considered the gun. “You going to kill him, too?”
“If I have to.”
“Just like that?”
Camaro looked at him.
He nodded. “Okay, then.”
She put the gun away and got out of the Santa Fe. She waited long enough for Yates to join her, then jogged across the street toward Derrick’s house. Yates was slower, and she heard him breathing as they came up on the dark side of the duplex, caught only by the light in the carport. “Front door or side?” she asked him.
“Front door. No light.”
They went onto Derrick’s porch and stood in the shadows. Camaro stepped up to the door and listened, but there was no sound. She drew the gun, stood with her back to the frame, and cocked a leg to kick. Yates waved for her to stop, and she froze. “What?”
Yates produced a small leather wallet. “There are quieter ways,” he said, and then he knelt before the door.
Camaro waited the long seconds as Yates picked the lock. She checked her watch twice, but only a minute passed. As the sweep hand finished a full circuit, she heard the tinny click of tumblers falling into place. Yates tried the knob, and the door came open silently.
