Page 15

FIFTEEN

W est and Dan Slater sat across from a skinny guy with a goatee by the name of Craig Benson. He was the suspect who’d come out of the bus station, looking around as if wondering where his gun was.

“I’m ATF Agent Slater and this is Detective Cole,” Dan said. “I’ve noticed you have an outstanding warrant for burglary.”

Benson shifted nervously in his seat. “That was nothing more than a big misunderstanding.”

Sure it was, West thought dryly. He thought of the Glock that had been found at the Fitness Guru Gym. Dan had told him before the interview that the gun was clean. No crimes had been committed with it.

They needed this guy to talk.

“I want to know the name of the man who sold you the gun,” Slater went on, ignoring his comment.

“I don’t know anything about a gun,” Benson said, but the way his gaze skittered sideways was a dead giveaway.

“You can cooperate with us or sit in jail. Your choice.” Slater sat back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest as if he had all day. “Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.”

West didn’t interrupt, letting Dan take the lead. It took all his willpower not to look at his watch. Trisha and Gabriel were in a secure location—no need to rush back to be at her side.

But it was difficult to ignore the weird nagging feeling that urged him to head back to the safe house as soon as possible.

“If I tell you who sold me the gun, you won’t put me in jail?” Benson asked.

“Yes. I’ll work with the district attorney’s office to drop the burglary charges against you,” Slater confirmed. “But only with your full cooperation. If you hold back key information, or lie to me, you’ll do your full stint of jail time. Oh, and that includes any jail time for any additional charges for crimes I discover.”

West hoped Craig Benson would go along with the plan. It was obvious to West that the locker in the bus station and the one at the Fitness Guru Gym were drop points for individual gun sales.

Their task force was after the bigger fish behind the gun trafficking. Benson was a minnow in a shallow pond, likely far removed from the real brains of the outfit.

But they would take what they could get.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Benson demanded.

“I don’t care about your burglary charges,” Dan said with a shrug. “I want the guy who sold you the weapon. After all, you paid him, didn’t you? So where’s the gun? Isn’t that what you were thinking when you stepped outside?” Slater leaned forward. “He took your money but didn’t leave the gun. Why be loyal to a scumbag like that?”

There was another long pause, as Craig Benson considered his options. “Yeah, okay. I’ll make the deal.”

“Great,” West spoke up for the first time. “Tell us who sold you the gun and we’ll get the DA here to sign off.”

“First the DA, then I’ll talk.” Benson’s face settled in a grim line.

West rose and headed out to make the call to the DA’s office. ADA Sharon Walsh came over right away, eager to help them with the gun trafficking case.

West and Sharon returned to the interview room. After discussing the parameters of the deal, ADA Walsh nodded. “Okay, I’ll abide by those terms.”

Craig Benson sat up straighter in his seat. “Petey Pawners sold me the gun.”

West inwardly groaned. Petey was dead. This guy wasn’t going to be able to help them much at all.

A flash of disappointment darkened Dan Slater’s eyes, too. “Okay, how did you know to contact Petey Pawners to get a weapon in the first place?”

Benson darted a glance at the ADA, then said, “I know a guy who bought a Glock off Petey. Petey bragged about how he could easily sell any type of weapon for the right price.” Benson shrugged. “I figured I might need some protection, so I got his name and number from my—uh, buddy.”

“Are there other rumors on the street about Petey Pawners and the types of guns he was able to sell?” Slater pressed. “Don’t hold anything back.”

Benson nodded slowly. “Yeah, word on the street was that Pawners could get anything you wanted, included assault rifles and other high-powered guns if you were willing to pay top dollar. I only wanted a handgun,” Craig Benson hastily added. “Just for my personal protection.”

West didn’t believe that for a minute, suspecting Benson had intended to use the gun to make it easier to rip off more innocent people. If Craig Benson walked out of here today, West would make sure to let the patrol officers know to keep an eye out for him.

It was only a matter of time before Benson broke the law again.

“We need the name of your buddy,” Dan said.

“I don’t want to drag him into this,” Benson protested.

“You promised to cooperate and to be honest with us,” Slater shot back. “That includes the name of your buddy. If you don’t tell us, the deal is off.”

Benson began to whine about how that wasn’t fair, but Slater ruthlessly cut him off.

“We already know about Pawners. We need more. If you can’t help, we’ll find someone else.”

With great reluctance, Benson gave up the name of Kurt Adams. “Don’t tell him I gave you his name,” Benson begged. “You gotta promise you won’t rat me out.”

“We’ll do our best,” Slater said with a nonchalant shrug. “I can’t make promises, though. Besides, it’s likely Adams will figure out you were our source anyway.”

Benson slumped in his seat. “He’s gonna come after me,” he muttered.

“We can make sure that you’re protected,” Slater said. “We will let Adams know if anything happens to you, he’ll be our primary suspect.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Benson did not look reassured. West couldn’t blame him. Street justice was no joke. And even threatening to arrest a guy didn’t mean he wouldn’t seek some sort of revenge.

He rose to leave, anxious to get back to the safe house. He pulled out his phone and frowned when he noticed Trisha had left a voicemail. Something about Laurel maybe?

Before he even finished the message, Ross emerged from his office.

“West? Trisha called 911 to report a fire at the safe house.”

An icy chill snaked down his spine. “Are Trish, Gabriel and Peanut all right? Did they all get out of the house?”

“They did get out of the house, but we don’t know where they are,” Ross said, his brow furrowed with concern. “There was no one at the residence when the fire trucks arrived.”

The masked assailant? He had a very bad feeling the guy had started the fire to force Trisha and Gabriel out of hiding. How the perp had found the safe house, he wasn’t sure.

And where was Peanut? He wished now that he’d brought his K-9 along for the interviews. Yet there was not a second to waste. If Trish, Gabriel and Peanut weren’t at the safe house, then he needed to be smarter than the perp.

“This is all about a key,” he said curtly. “I’m heading to her place. You need to send officers there to back me up.”

“Go,” Ross said. “I’ll send officers to the safe house to search the neighborhood and more officers to help back you up at her place.”

West didn’t bother to answer, he simply spun on his heel and ran out of the police station to get to his SUV. He scanned the area, half hoping Peanut would have come to the police station to find him, but there was no sign of her.

Please, Lord Jesus, keep Trish, Gabriel and Peanut safe in Your care!

He silently repeated the prayer as he hit the red and blue flashing lights on his SUV and sped toward Trish’s house. He told himself not to panic. This guy wanted the key. He wouldn’t kill her or Gabriel until he had the key.

At least, he hoped not. Yet he couldn’t get the image of Bryan Little’s battered and blue mottled face out of his mind.

He shut down his lights as he reached Trish’s neighborhood. If he was the first one on scene, he figured it would be better to go in quietly, rather than announcing his presence.

After parking at the curb two blocks away, he headed off on foot. He’d barely gone a few feet when he saw Peanut streaking toward him, ears flapping. Had his K-9 followed Trisha and Gabriel’s trail?

“Sweet Pea,” he whispered, scooping the K-9 into his arms. He nuzzled her for a moment, then set her back down. “Heel,” he softly commanded. He needed her to stay close—the last thing he wanted was for his partner to be caught in the crossfire if this guy started shooting.

Peanut seemed to know exactly where Trish’s house was located, easily keeping pace beside him. As he approached the property, he noticed there was a black SUV in the driveway. Not the Chevy sedan, but yet another car.

The perp’s vehicle? Did that mean Trisha and Gabriel were inside with him?

He crept up to the side of the house, then pressed his back against the wall. Peanut stayed at his side in the heel position, but her nose worked the air, taking in the various scents. Even without his command, he knew she would search for tools.

Moving swiftly along the side of the house he paused at one of the bedroom windows. A quick peek inside revealed the master bedroom was empty.

Were they in Gabriel’s room?

He turned to head around to the other side of the house, remembering the bedrooms were across from each other with the hallway in between. Taking more care now, he peered into the room.

And saw them. Trisha stood, holding Gabriel in her arms, while the masked gunman waved his arms theatrically. The perp had his back to the window, so West lifted his hand to get Trish’s attention.

Her eyes widened when she saw him. But to her credit, she didn’t let on, turning her attention back to the masked man.

Time to move. He ducked back around the house to reach the front door, praying Trisha hadn’t locked it.

And that he’d be able to reach her and Gabriel before it was too late.

Trisha had sent up a silent Hallelujah when she’d glimpsed West through the bedroom window. She had known he’d find them, but the danger was far from over.

She’d been stalling the masked man as much as possible. But time was running out and this guy was losing his temper. She didn’t trust him not to hurt her or Gabriel if she gave him the key. In fact, she believed he’d just kill them and be done with it.

“Where is it?” the masked perp demanded.

“I told you, I wasn’t exactly sure where Bryan hid the key!” She spoke loudly, hoping to mask any sound of West making his way inside. She’d left the door open, hoping he or other officers would arrive in time to save them. “I thought for sure he hid the key in Gabriel’s crib, but he must have tucked it somewhere else.”

“Where is it!” The perp took a threatening step toward her.

“I think you should look under the elephant lamp.” She took a step back, needing distance between them. “Now that I think about it, the lamp was moved at one point. I hit it with my elbow when I was reaching for Gabriel’s diapers on the changing table. I’m sure the key is hidden beneath the lamp.”

A gleam of anticipation brightened the perp’s eyes, and he instantly turned toward the elephant lamp sitting on the edge of the changing table.

Trisha took several steps back, just in time to see West peeking around the door frame.

“Police! Drop the gun!”

West’s curt demand startled Gabriel into crying. She tried to soothe him as the masked intruder spun toward West, his weapon still in hand.

“Drop it!” West said again. When the perp simply lifted the gun higher, West shot twice, striking the guy in the center of his chest.

Gabriel wailed at the sharp retort of gunfire. She watched in horror as the force of the bullets sent the perp flailing backward until he landed on the floor with a sickening thud.

“Are you and Gabriel okay?” West asked.

“We’re not hurt.” She strained to see if the masked perp was still breathing. She doubted he’d survive since officers were trained to hit center mass. And West had been close enough that he wouldn’t have missed.

She knew West would have preferred to take this guy alive, to fully understand what in the world was going on, but had little choice but to use deadly force.

The masked perp had dropped the weapon when he fell. She continued to soothe Gabriel as West lunged forward, kicking the gun out of reach. She caught a glimpse of Peanut heading over to sit beside the gun and was glad to see the K-9 hadn’t been hurt.

West knelt beside the guy, then reached up to pull his mask off.

“I don’t recognize him.” West looked disappointed.

She grabbed a baby blanket from Gabriel’s crib and tossed it to him. “Use this to help stop the bleeding. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

“Hear those sirens? They’re already on the way.” West grabbed the blanket, then ran his hand over the guy’s chest. “He’s wearing a bullet-resistant vest!”

“Really?” Now that she looked more closely, there wasn’t any blood staining his black clothing. “Where did he get it?”

“No idea.” West ran his hands over the vest, then reached up to feel along the side of his neck. “He still has a pulse.”

“That’s good.” She turned to set Gabriel in his crib, then turned to help provide first aid to the masked perp.

“Owww,” the guy moaned.

“You’re under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder of a police officer.” West slapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

“He admitted to killing Bryan, so you’ll want to add murder one to those charges,” she told him.

“Done. Who are you?” West demanded. “Why do you want the key?”

“Go...” the man whispered. Then his body went slack.

“Who is this guy?” Trisha asked as West searched the guy’s pockets, pulling out a wallet.

“His name is Edward Watley.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Does that ring a bell?”

“Edward Watley is one of the friends on Renee Mills’s social media page.” She frowned. “How did he know my ex-husband?”

“I’m not sure.” West glanced at the lamp. “Do you really think the elephant lamp is where the key is hidden?”

“Yes.” She stood and crossed over to lift the lamp. She nodded in satisfaction as she pulled the large swath of duct tape from the bottom, revealing a small key stuck in the adhesive.

“Glad you found it,” West said.

“This doesn’t look at all familiar.” Somehow she thought she might know what the key would open if she saw it. She held it out to West with a frown. “This is an oddly shaped key. Do you recognize it?”

“Yeah, it’s a key to a safety deposit box.” He grimaced. “Now we’ll just have to figure out what bank has the box that matches the key.”

PCPD officers came running inside. She moved out of the way as West met them at the door.

“This is Edward Watley.” West gestured to the man lying on the floor. “He held Officer Trisha McCord and her son, Gabriel, hostage at gunpoint demanding this key. He whirled on me with the gun in his hand. Then he pointed the weapon at me when I told him to drop it. I shot twice, hitting him in a bullet-resistant vest. He needs a bus—the impact knocked him out.”

“Wow, a perp wearing a vest?” Officer Skinner whistled. “That’s unusual.”

Trisha could tell that West looked relieved. And she understood. As cops they were trained to hit center mass if their life or other innocent lives were at stake. But no officer wanted to use deadly force.

“Watley also admitted to killing my ex-husband, Bryan Little,” she added. “He kidnapped us and threatened to kill Gabriel if I didn’t help him find the key.”

“Good to know. Get the paramedics in here,” Skinner called.

Trisha leaned over the crib to pick up Gabriel, who had quieted down. Then she edged out of the room, knowing the paramedics would need to get Watley out of there.

“Good girl, Pea,” West said. “Come.”

The beagle rose and trotted toward West, her tail wagging happily at a job well done. It made Trisha smile to realize Peanut had found the gun the perp had dropped, even though it hadn’t been missing.

In the main living room, West pulled the ducky from his pocket. Peanut caught it in the air and pranced around as if she was the queen of the world.

“What do you think is in the safety deposit box?” she asked, setting Gabriel into his car seat.

“I don’t know.” He stared at her for a moment, then abruptly stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

She hugged him back, burrowing close. “I knew the fire was a trap, but I was too afraid to stay inside,” she confessed. “I was hoping Peanut would find you.”

“She met me here at your house.” His arms tightened, and she relaxed against him.

“Peanut came all this way? She followed us in the car?” She glanced at the amazing K-9, then leaned back to look into his eyes. “I knew you’d find me.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t answer your phone call.” Regret filled his eyes. “I wish I had gone straight to the safe house rather than going in to interview perps with Dan Slater.”

“Don’t say that, West,” she chided gently. “You had a job to do.”

“I almost lost you,” he said. Then lowered his mouth to kiss her.

She hugged him tight, cherishing their embrace. She kissed him back, wishing he cared about her as much as she had come to love him.

Their embrace was interrupted by the arrival of Captain Ross. West let her go, and she ducked her head, hoping their boss hadn’t noticed what he’d walked in on.

“We found the key, Captain,” West said. “I believe it’s to a safety deposit box.”

“Do you know which bank?” Ross asked.

“I don’t know for sure,” she said, moving forward. “However, Bryan and I used the Waterville Bank just a few blocks from here during our brief marriage. He closed his account after our divorce.” She shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

“Go check it out,” Ross demanded. “I’d like to know what this guy killed for.”

She reached for Gabriel’s car seat. West took it from her hand, then gestured for her to head outside. “We’ll try the Waterville Bank, first. If Little has a box there, we’ll get a warrant.”

“Sounds good to me.” She wasn’t about to argue. She wanted to know what her ex-husband had stolen. What he’d done that had put her and Gabriel in danger.

The trip to the bank took five minutes. She carried Gabriel inside, accompanied by West and Peanut. West asked to speak with a manager, and they were led to a small corner office.

“I’m Detective West Cole and this is Patrol Officer Trisha McCord.” West set the key on the man’s desk. “We need to know if Bryan Little, who is now deceased, has a safety deposit box here. If so, I’ll obtain a warrant to compel you to provide us access to the box.”

“One moment please.” The manager tapped keys on the computer, then looked up in surprise. “Mr. Little does have a box here, and he added Ms. Trisha McCord to have access to the box if he was deceased.”

Trisha was shocked by that news.

“Let’s see the box, then,” West said.

The manager checked her ID, then led them down the hall to a room full of safety deposit boxes. After a moment, he used a master key to open a box, pulling out a large box that was obviously extremely heavy.

West stepped forward when the manager nearly dropped it. “Maybe he stored bricks in here,” the man joked.

Peanut didn’t alert, sniffing around in the room with interest. Trisha found herself holding her breath as West used the key to open the box.

It was full of long bars of what appeared to be solid gold.

Gold? Was that what Edward Watley had tried to say?

She looked at West, who appeared just as shocked as she was.

They had one answer to the puzzle surrounding the danger to her and Gabriel.

But they still had plenty of unanswered questions. Like where had Bryan gotten the gold?

And did the gold belong to Edward Watley or was he just a hired gun for the rightful owner?