Trigger Effect Page 7

  Paige pulled on her leather gloves. “Did he say what?”

  “Yeah. He got the lab report on the fruit.”

  “That was fast.”

  Kidd’s mouth quirked. “Nate’s got an in with one of the female chemists.”

  “I bet. Did he tell you the results?”

  “Tried to.” At the end of the hallway, Kidd paused, looked at Paige. “Wait here while Henderson and I look around outside.”

  Kidd swung the door open. He stepped out first, then Henderson. It was barely five o’clock, yet it was getting dark.

  Paige watched both men conduct a quick scan of the parking lot. Standing there, she felt like a helpless dolt. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate Kidd and Henderson’s help. It simply wasn’t in her nature to cower in the background. To hide while someone else did the potentially dangerous work.

  Her Grandpa Carmichael had always said a true cop moved toward the sound of gunfire. That’s the type of cop he’d been, and she’d followed in his footsteps—assertive, taking the lead. Which is what she’d done the night she and her partner cornered Isaac. She had gone in first, low, gun drawn, her finger locked against the cool steel of the trigger. She could hear her partner breathing just behind her, going in high.

  Then the distinctive pop of gunfire sounded. Isaac’s shot had been a wild one, the bullet glancing off the metal doorjamb before ricocheting into her gun hand. The pain had been obscene. But not nearly as excruciating as the anguish that had overcome her after she’d arrived at the hospital and discovered how thoroughly her husband had betrayed her.

  Kidd motioned her out. “Coast is clear.”

  Shaking off the memory, Paige stepped outside, her hair whipping in the chilly wind. “What did you mean when you said McCall tried to tell you the results of the lab test?”

  “We had a bad connection.” Kidd popped a plastic toothpick into one corner of his mouth. “You’ll have to wait until you get to the hotel to hear what the lab found out.”

  Chapter 6

  Dusk had fully settled in by the time Paige reached the entrance to the Ambassador Arms’s parking garage. She glanced into her rental car’s rearview mirror, saw Hugh Henderson’s gray sedan trailing at a distance. He flashed the headlights off, then on, the agreed-on signal that neither he nor Steve Kidd had spotted a tail. She had lost sight of Kidd’s red SUV a few blocks back when Henderson leapfrogged to take the lead. Still, she sensed Kidd had her in sight.

  Easing on the brake, she flicked on the turn signal and steered down the ramp.

  Bright overhead lights illuminated the garage below the hotel, making the vehicles parked there gleam like a high-end car lot. Paige nosed the rental into a space in sight of the elevator. Before she had time to turn off the engine, someone tapped on the passenger-side window.

  She grabbed the asp she’d placed in the console at the same instant she whipped her head sideways. McCall was leaning down, looking through the window while he talked into his cell phone.

  Easing out a breath, she punched the button to disengage the door locks.

  “Thanks for doing escort duty, Kidd,” he said into the phone as he slid into the passenger seat.

  While giving McCall a once-over, Paige replaced the asp on the console. His black hair looked windblown. The olive cast of his skin gave him a healthy glow. He was doing detective casual that day, denim shirt, jeans, tan wool blazer.

  There was something about him in jeans that made her throat contract. Don’t go there. She diverted her gaze out the windshield, doing a sweep of the empty cars parked nearby. She had no idea which one was McCall’s.

  “I don’t know,” he said in response to a question from Kidd. “The workshop ends tomorrow. We haven’t talked about when she plans to leave. I’ll get back to you.”

  He disconnected the call, slid his cell into a pocket on his blazer. “How’s it going, Carmichael?”

  “I’ll answer that after you tell me what the lab found out about the fruit.”

  “Nothing like getting down to business.” He reached into the same pocket where he’d put his cell phone, pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. “It’s a typical lab report, most of it written in scientific gibberish only people with pointed heads can understand. Skip to the last paragraph for language common mortals can get a handle on.”

  Having dealt with countless lab reports, Paige knew his advice was solid so she skimmed to the bottom. Seeing the test results in black and white dropped a hard ball of ice into her belly. “So, every piece of fruit was injected with peanut oil,” she said after a moment.

  “Swimming in the stuff.” He kept his eyes on her face, intense, unwavering. “Someone tried to off you last night.”

  “At least I can continue to eat bananas,” she said, her grim attempt at cop humor an age-old way to get past the eddy of emotion inside her. “All that potassium.”

  “There is that,” he agreed.

  “What about prints? Were there any on the bowl the fruit came in?”

  “Yours, and a couple of hotel bellmen. Zero from whoever delivered the bowl to the Waterford. And yours were the only ones on the envelope that held Isaac’s mug shot. No prints on the photo.”

  She folded the report, handed it back. “Do you believe in coincidence, McCall?”

  “I’m one of those rare cops who do. As long as there aren’t too many of them.” He leaned a shoulder against the door. “In your case, we’ve got the mugging. The tampered fruit. Isaac’s mug shot with a personal message to you. Your billfold getting boosted. Kidd just told me the workshop assignments were stolen at the same time. It’s too improbable that some or all of those occurrences aren’t tied together somehow.”

  “I agree.” She turned off the idling engine and slid the key into her coat pocket. “I can accept Isaac, or his accomplice, having a hand in everything. Except stealing the assignments. Why do that?”

  “To show how close he can get to you.”

  “He proved that when he took my billfold. Why take the assignments, too?”

  “That’s a mystery.”

  “I went to the training center early this morning to work on the assignments. One of them creeped me out.”

  McCall raised a dark brow. “How?”

  “I found numerous indicators of deception. The guy who wrote it was majorly stressed. He failed to account for huge blocks of time during his day. He made a point to distance himself from both his wife and their home. It’s possible he has someone on the side. And there’s some sort of sexual thing going on with him.”

  “Let me guess. You latched onto that angle after he brought up something about turning on the lights.”

  “As a matter of fact, he mentioned lights twice,” she said coolly. “You know, McCall, you’ve never said I was wrong about what happened between you and your girlfriend on your day off.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend. And what I said was I think you made a lucky guess.” He shrugged. “We’ve veered off the subject. Did you bring up the creepy assignment because you think the guy who wrote it stole them all?”

  Although she also had considered the possibility during the drive, she now realized how far-fetched it was.

  “Not really. I mean, why risk getting caught doing something like that? I may suspect the guy was totally deceptive and that he’s messing around on his wife, but so what? No matter what he wrote about his day, there’s no repercussions for him. And if his goal was to steal the assignments, why take my billfold?”

  “I’ll turn that around and ask, if the thief’s goal was to steal your billfold, why take the assignments?”

  Paige raised a hand, let it drop. “Neither scenario makes sense.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should discard either one. Edwin Isaac might be brilliant, but his wiring’s twisted. He’s psychologically malformed. Some things he does will make sense only to him.”

  “True.”

  Voices echoed in through the rolled-up windows. Paige glanced int
o the rearview mirror in time to see two men wearing dark suits and carrying briefcases move past the car at a brisk pace. She looked back at McCall, saw he was watching the men in the side mirror. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Where?” he asked, keeping his gaze on the mirror.

  “Here. I’m staying in Oklahoma City.”

  His gaze whipped to hers, his eyes flickering in surprise. “Don’t you have another workshop to teach somewhere?”

  “I was already scheduled to take a vacation after this.”

  “Going where?”

  “Mexico. My boss owns a villa overlooking the Sea of Cortez. I had great plans to do nothing but soak up the sun, read and drink margaritas.” She found it impossible to hold back a sigh. “Damn.”

  “Don’t you know anything about politics, Carmichael? It’s not smart to stand up the boss.”

  She sent him a puzzled look, then tilted her chin when his meaning came through. “My boss is my boss, McCall, nothing more. I wasn’t planning on meeting Holden Lassiter at the villa, or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Vacationing alone in a Mexican villa doesn’t sound like fun to me. But it’s a good place for you to be until Isaac’s found.”

  “I’ve already talked to Holden and briefed him on what all’s gone down since I’ve been here. I told him I wouldn’t be using the villa if the lab report came back showing the fruit had been tampered with. So, I’m staying in your charming city. For as long as it takes.”

  “To do what?”

  “Flush Isaac out of whatever sewer he’s hiding in.”

  McCall eased toward her. “You sound like a cop.”

  “I used to be one.”

  “‘Used to be’ being the key words. Here’s the deal, Carmichael. The lab’s findings have put a whole new light on your case.”

  “Exactly—”

  “It’s now classified as an attempted homicide. I talked to my lieutenant, told him I’m already in the know about some of your background with Isaac. The lieu assigned the case to me.”

  “I thought your plate was full with the frozen-body homicide. You said it was political, that there’s pressure to get the case wrapped up fast.”

  “’Twas not a lie.” He sent her a smug look. “I’m like a magician who can keep a couple of plates spinning in the air at the same time.”

  Magical feats, Paige thought.

  “So, Carmichael, everything that went down yesterday concerning you is now assigned to me. If you’re staying here, you need to be in protective custody while the cops flush out Isaac.”

  “The cops have had two weeks to find him. And you can forget protective custody. I’m not going to tuck my tail between my legs and go into hiding.”

  “I was thinking of it more along the lines of you keeping below the radar screen of the sick shrink who’s fed you into whatever degenerate nightmare he’s spinning for himself.”

  “I know all about the nightmares Isaac conjures up. And how he operates. I know his mannerisms. How he talks. Sounds. How he thinks.”

  “Which means you’re aware that a deep respect for life is not among his personality traits. The note on the back of the mug shot promising ‘we’ll be together soon’ is proof of whose life he’s focused on right now.”

  “Proof,” she repeated. “Since Isaac escaped, there hasn’t been a shred of proof of where he is. Not even what country he’s in. The fruit bowl and the mug shot are the first solid leads to his location.”

  “His, or that mystery accomplice you and your partner could never pin down.”

  “True. But if there is an accomplice and we nab him, that’s a step closer to finding Isaac.”

  “We?” McCall gave her a narrow smile. “If I were practicing statement analysis, I would find a little too much sense of togetherness in your comment.”

  “Dammit, you don’t need to flex your cop muscles by reminding me I’m a mere civilian.” She jerked off her right glove, held up her hand so he could see her scar. “This is a constant reminder. I understand why you think it’s dangerous for me to stay here because you’re right—Isaac is focused on me. But as long as he is, I won’t risk going back to Dallas.”

  His gaze slowly lifted from her scar. “It’s always smarter to fight a battle on familiar turf,” he said quietly. “Why is going back to Dallas riskier than staying here?”

  “Because that might split Isaac’s focus.”

  “Onto?”

  “My grandfather owns a ranch just west of Dallas. My mother lives there, too.” Paige knew her voice had taken on a raw edge, but she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help being afraid for the two people she loved most in the world. “I won’t put them at risk.”

  “What about your father? Could he be a target?”

  “He split the instant my mother told him she was pregnant. Since I’ve never laid eyes on the man, I doubt Isaac would go after him.”

  “Probably not,” McCall agreed. “Look, I’d do whatever it took to keep my family safe, so I understand where you’re coming from. But think about your mom and grandfather’s feelings. I doubt they’d want you to intentionally put yourself in the bull’s-eye of Isaac’s target.”

  “Seems I did that the night I locked him in a cage.”

  While she tugged her glove on, Paige noted the muscle working in McCall’s jaw as he stared out the windshield. He didn’t have to voice his thoughts for her to know what they were. Cops received threats, that came with the job. The majority of those threats were meaningless. But you instinctively knew which were the real thing, and you kept those in the front of your memory. Even after thirty years, her retired Texas Ranger grandfather could name the few people whose threats he’d taken seriously. Tate Carmichael even kept their mug shots handy.

  “We have reason to believe that Isaac, or someone working with him, is in Oklahoma City,” Paige said quietly. “He wants me. To accomplish that, he’s going to have to show himself.”

  McCall looked back at her, his eyes grim. “Problem is, if it’s Isaac who comes after you, he’ll be in disguise.”

  “The instant he opens his mouth, I’ll know him. Look, McCall, I don’t intend to spend my life checking for Isaac over my shoulder. That’s what might happen if I burrow into some hole and try to wait him out. I’m staying here. Period.”

  “And I can’t do anything about that.” He aimed an index finger at her. “You listen to me, Carmichael. This is my case. My turf. I don’t want you going off on some investigative tangent. If you get as much as a hinky feeling that something’s not right, I want to know.”

  “I don’t go off on tangents.”

  “You went to The Epicurean on your lunch hour.”

  She shoved his hand aside. “Did you put a tail on me I didn’t spot?”

  The grin he flashed was one decimal point away from arrogant. “I’ve got a spy network that makes the CIA look like Cub Scouts. By the way, it was impressive how you cornered Chief Quaid as a suspect in the larceny of your billfold.”

  Her temper boiled up, rattling the lid on her control. “What, you don’t question people who are in the vicinity of a crime scene?”

  “If it’s the chief, I do it with tact. You proved the first day of the workshop just how tactful you can be when that temper of yours gets riled.”

  The fact she was currently trying to control that temper had her clenching her jaw. “Well, Sergeant, as long as you do your job and find Isaac, I’m not bound to ‘get riled’ and go off on some investigative tangent.”

  McCall was about to reply when his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. “Hugh Henderson.”

  “Lucky you,” Paige muttered, putting a choke hold on her emotions. The tension between her and McCall was as relaxed as a coiled snake.

  After a moment, he slid her a look. “Yeah, Carmichael’s still with me.”

  She arched a brow. He shrugged, then frowned as he listened to Henderson. “You really want me to ask her that, Hugh? Hold on.”

>   “Ask me what?”

  McCall pressed the phone against his chest to mute their voices. “Henderson’s upstairs in the hotel bar. He wants to know if you’ll reconsider his offer to join him for a drink.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “When it comes to affairs of the heart, I don’t joke around.”

  Paige rolled her eyes as he handed her the phone. Obviously she had not made her feelings clear enough to Detective Lamebrain.

  “Sergeant Henderson, thank you again for helping your partner escort me here.”

  “I—”

  “As to joining you for a drink, I will do that only when the sun is a cold, dark cinder the size of a walnut. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Good night.”

  McCall’s laugh was rich and infectious, and she couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not like he didn’t ask for it.” She returned the phone. “I’d already told him no twice.”

  “When it comes to women, Hugh sometimes needs more convincing than we intuitively brighter types.”

  “You might want to remind good old Hugh what that gold band on his left hand means.” Paige shook her head. “It’s easy to understand why you’re closer to Kidd than Henderson.”

  “Am I?” McCall snagged the asp off the console, weighed it in his palm. “What makes you think that?”

  “Yesterday at the training center, you told me Kidd and Henderson were waiting for you to go to lunch with them. Then last night at the hotel you said you would have Kidd and Henderson follow me from the training center this evening.”

  “So?”

  “So, you habitually mention Kidd’s name first. There’s a reason for that. Now that I’ve met them, I suspect it’s because you like Kidd more than Henderson. I happen to share your feelings.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.” She tapped the palm of one gloved hand against the steering wheel. “Henderson’s married, but he has no problem hitting on another woman, and he doesn’t care who knows about it. He might be the guy who wrote the assignment that creeped me out.”