Silent Weapon Page 20

  With Tiff’s hand in mine we hurried out to the truck. I loaded her into the middle and dug beneath the cracked vinyl bench seat for the safety belt. Thank God it was a recent-enough model to have a middle seat belt. When I had her buckled in, I climbed in and secured my own belt.

  Our cranky old savior opened the driver’s side door and climbed in, as promised, his shotgun in hand. I pulled Tiff against me and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

  Before he closed the door, and thankfully while the interior light was still on so I could see, he asked, Where we going?

  I thought of my family, but I needed objectivity right now and I wouldn’t get that from my overprotective brothers or parents. There was only one person I could trust completely and who I could count on for complete objectivity.

  Chapter 15

  Helen Golden stared at me as if I’d lost my ever-loving mind.

  You’re kidding, right? She glanced across the room where Tiffany slept on her sofa. She is Luther Hammond’s child? You’re supposed to be taking training…not cavorting with criminals!

  I shushed her. “Don’t wake her up.” Then I ushered my good friend into her cluttered kitchen. She worked and studied far too hard to bother with cleaning. Helen would be the first to admit it. If I lived through this I would owe her big time. Maybe I’d give her a month’s free house cleaning. And I hated housework. “I don’t have time to convince you, Helen. I need your help. Now—” I sucked in a steadying breath “—are you going to help me or not?”

  Helen studied my face for precious seconds—time I didn’t have to waste—before committing. You know I’d do anything for you, Merri. But this. She shook her head. This is like the whole Sawyer-Carlyle thing. This is dangerous.

  With a resolute nod I confirmed her conclusion. “Very dangerous. But Detective Barlow is a dead man if I’m not at that warehouse in less than one hour. Will you help me or not?”

  All right. She clasped her face with trembling hands for a moment before she relented completely. Tell me again what you need me to say.

  “You call Chief Kent or Adcock, whichever one you can reach. I’ll go to the warehouse,” I began.

  In my car, she interjected.

  I gave her a confirming nod. “While I distract Hammond and his henchmen, Chiefs Kent and Adcock can get backup into place.”

  Helen shook her head, her expression somber. This isn’t a good plan, Merri. You can’t go in there alone.

  I looked at the digital clock on her microwave. “I have to go.” There was no point in arguing the issue further. I wasn’t going to change her mind. As long as she did what I asked, that’s all that mattered. “Give me fifteen minutes head start, then make that call. Don’t let Tiffany out of your sight.”

  Though my friend and co-worker didn’t protest further, I knew she didn’t really want to let me do this. I went back into the living room and left a kiss on the sleeping child’s forehead. I couldn’t risk waking her. I wasn’t sure I could leave her if she cried.

  And I had to go.

  Steven Barlow’s life depended upon me.

  At the door Helen put her hand on my arm. When I met her gaze once more I saw the fear there. Please be careful, Merri.

  “I’ll do my best.” I started to go, to leave it at that, but I couldn’t. “Listen, Helen, do me a favor. If this turns out badly, be sure to let my family know how much I love them and that I’ve always known deep down how proud they are of me.”

  I left before she could respond. I hurried out to her car, working hard to see past the tears blurring my vision. There was no turning back now.

  The next move was mine.

  The downtown section of Nashville’s Eighth Avenue was mostly fashionable offices and antique malls. But at this time of night it was pretty much Deadsville. Most of the nightlife was played out a few blocks away on Second Avenue, where Tootsie’s and the Wildhorse Saloon, among numerous others, kept Music City rocking until the wee hours of the morning on most any given night.

  I parked Helen’s car in a public garage just off Second Avenue and walked the rest of the way. If I didn’t make it through this I didn’t want Hammond to be able to track down Tiffany by locating the owner of the vehicle I’d arrived in. Jed Moffet, the man who’d driven Tiff and I into town, had offered to give me his shotgun, but I’d never fired a weapon in my life and I doubted it would prove useful for me.

  After he’d dropped us at a convenience store, I’d called Helen to come and pick us up. If any of Hammond’s friends tracked down Jed, I didn’t want him to be able to give away our location. He would only know where he’d left us. I’d suggested he not go back home tonight, but the old man seemed pretty set in his ways so I couldn’t be sure what he would do. I was scrambling here to make contingencies to cover all the bases. I’d learned that the hard way while tracking Sawyer.

  Now, as I stood on the sidewalk opposite the building, which actually wasn’t a warehouse per se—it was a posh antiques store of about ten thousand square feet called the Warehouse. Evidently Hammond owned it.

  I sent one final prayer heavenward and did the only thing left I could do. I crossed the street and walked straight up to the front door. It was locked.

  Startled and frustrated, I turned to go around back but someone grabbed my arm before I took my first step.

  I whirled around and came face-to-face with Mason Conrad.

  He glanced at my waist, probably looking for the PDA.

  “I can read your lips,” I told him. No need to keep up the pretense.

  He looked at my lips a moment, then into my eyes. The cold, unfeeling stare I’d expected, to my surprise, was filled with disappointment.

  Where is Tiffany?

  I tried to pull free of his hold, but his grip only tightened. “She’s safe.”

  His jaw tightened, and the cold, emotionless mask I’d initially expected fell into place. You know he’s going to kill you, don’t you?

  A new wave of fear washed over me, but I stood firm. I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t back down now. “Yes.”

  His expression as unyielding as granite, he unlocked the door and hauled me inside, then quickly locked the glass entry doors behind us. Beyond the front of the ritzy shop, the interior looked dark and deserted, but Hammond would be here somewhere. Conrad escorted me deeper into the consuming gloom, away from the plate-glass windows that allowed some amount of light from street lamps to filter inside. I scarcely noticed the venues of ancient collectibles on either side of the path he cut.

  I blinked and squinted in an attempt to force my eyes to adjust to the lack of light as we moved deeper into the building, but I still couldn’t see well enough to have any clue what lay more than two or three feet before me. He paused, fidgeted with something…I felt his arms moving, then he slid a large warehouse-type door open.

  He dragged me beyond it and then ushered the massive door back into place.

  Turning me to the left, he propelled me forward, toward a pool of light where Hammond waited.

  My heart jolted as I recognized Barlow lashed to a chair. His face was bloody and bruised, one eye looked badly swollen. He managed a smile in spite of his split lip, and I had to fight back the tears crowding into my eyes. They were going to kill him.

  Conrad grabbed my chin and forced my gaze toward Luther Hammond’s furious face.

  Where is my daughter? he demanded. The ability to hear was not necessary. The harshness of his demand was etched into every line and angle of his face.

  I steeled myself and refused to allow him to see just how frightened I was. “She’s safe.”

  Vargas stood behind Hammond, but I didn’t see any sign of Cecilia. There were other guards about, loitering in the shadows beyond the pool of light where we faced off.

  The slightest twitch of Hammond’s hand and one of the guards stepped in front of the chair where Barlow had been secured. The first blow that landed against the detective’s already-damaged jaw had my knees giving way beneath me. Conrad
made sure I stayed on my feet.

  “Stop!” I cried. I felt the hot burn of tears streaming down my cheeks, felt the churn of terror twisting in my throat. “Please,” I begged. I couldn’t let them do this. I had to do something…however futile it would be in the end.

  Another of those insignificant twitches from Hammond and the guard backed off.

  Tell me two things, Hammond said, and I will make both your deaths as quick and painless as possible.

  I stood there for one infinitesimal moment and tried to reason what he’d said with what I knew about him. This was a man who went to extraordinary means to help children. One who gave generously of his great wealth. A man who loved his daughter unconditionally. One who’d been kind to me. How could he be this evil?

  Where is my daughter? he repeated. And what did you learn while in my employ?

  Hammond’s head jerked toward Barlow. I looked just in time to catch his final words…didn’t learn anything. He was trying to protect me, but I knew, as well as he did, that it wouldn’t do any good.

  At precisely that moment I realized what a mistake I’d made believing I could do this. It took a special breed of human being to do undercover cop work, a person who wasn’t missing anything so vital as one of the five senses. My out-of-control curiosity and determination was about to cost Steven Barlow his life. Oddly, I didn’t exactly feel defeated. I felt, for the first time in two years, like I finally knew who I was. I could stand up and be counted with or without the ability to hear. I might never get a chance to tell my family they were right, but I could do my very best to save Barlow from the danger I’d put him in with my overenthusiastic need to prove myself.

  “He’s lying to protect me,” I said.

  Hammond’s gaze swung back to me. He smiled. Really? In that case, tell me what you learned?

  “Let him go and I’ll tell you everything, even the parts he doesn’t know just yet.”

  Hammond laughed. Don’t be naive, Merri. Your detective friend isn’t going to walk out of here alive any more than you are. You should know that. Metro needs to learn that I don’t appreciate their futile attempts to get to me. You’d think they would have learned their lesson by now.

  I wondered if his reference was to the others who’d died trying to get info on him, maybe even Tiff’s mother for becoming involved with a cop. Or his own daughter’s godfather for getting too close to the very child he’d vowed to love and protect. I glanced at Barlow. The way he looked at me, as if the idea that I was about to be hurt was nearly more than he could bear. To his way of thinking I would be the second woman who’d died by Hammond’s hand for being involved with him. So not true. My destiny had, I suddenly realized, always been my own choice.

  Conrad snatched my chin and jerked my face forward.

  Make this easy on yourself, Hammond suggested. Answer my questions and we’ll dispense with this unpleasantness here and now.

  “Don’t you know,” I challenged, “that letting him live will be far more damaging than killing him?”

  Hammond laughed, his features falling into the kind smile I’d witnessed so many times. My, my, Miss Merri, but you truly are a hero, aren’t you? His expression abruptly morphed into one of hate-filled savagery. Now answer my questions!

  As if the Good Lord had suddenly sent me a message of salvation, I knew exactly what to say. “I learned that your West Coast contact, Mathers, is coming for a little visit.”

  Hammond’s gaze narrowed.

  “And you plan to kill him, take him out of the scenario. Tomorrow night at eight o’clock. I even know the location. So does Metro. So you’ll have to reschedule unless you want to be caught.”

  His penetrating stare was nothing short of lethal. Anything else?

  “Just one thing,” I confessed. I turned to Mason Conrad and said this part in his ear so no one else could hear. “Vargas and Cecilia are working with Mathers. Your boss is supposed to die tonight in Mathers’s stead. I swear this is the truth.”

  I drew away from him just in time to catch Hammond’s demand to know what I’d said.

  My gaze cut to Conrad to see if he responded. He did.

  She said her only regret was that she hadn’t taken me up on my offer. Conrad shrugged. She must be nuts, too.

  Why was he lying?

  Vargas came up beside his boss. She doesn’t know anything. Let’s just get this over with. We’ll find your daughter. She can’t have left her that far away. If she’s got family or friends, we’ll find the kid with them.

  Fear for my family joined the mix of emotions churning inside me.

  “Actually, I do know more,” I cut in, hoping I sounded hateful and not terrified. My words jerked Hammond’s as well as Vargas’s attention back to me. I felt Conrad’s fingers tighten on my elbow but I ignored him, couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want me to spill this part. I smiled at Vargas, whose face clearly gave away his discomfort. Somehow he suspected I was about to tell on him. “Why don’t you come clean with the boss yourself, Mr. Vargas? Save him from hearing it from me. You can blame the whole thing on Cecilia. I’m certain she can be rather persuasive. It wasn’t your fault you got caught up in her web of deceit.”

  Confusion claimed Hammond’s face. “What the hell is she talking about?”

  Everything happened at once then.

  Vargas swung his weapon in my direction. Hammond ranted at him.

  Barlow’s chair toppled over at the same instant that a brief burst of fire flickered from the business end of Vargas’s gun.

  Mason Conrad shoved me to the floor.

  Some remote part of my brain wondered why help hadn’t arrived. I tried to assimilate what had just happened but the bloom of crimson on the white shirt Mason Conrad wore stole my full attention.

  I struggled onto my hands and knees and hurried to see how badly he was hurt. I was vaguely aware of the scuffle going on beyond me. Felt more than saw the fierce movements. Barlow was shouting at me. In my peripheral vision I saw his mouth moving, his eyes wide with fear or worry, but I couldn’t deal with that right now.

  Mason Conrad had been shot…had taken a bullet intended for me.

  Mason stared up at me. He blinked once, swore.

  Instinct kicked in. I tore open his shirt and attempted to stanch the flow of blood. The wound was low on the abdomen. Lots of blood.

  Damn.

  I needed to call for help.

  Suddenly I was on the floor again. My face pressed against the oiled hardwood.

  I felt the weight of Mason Conrad’s body on mine.

  “You’re bleeding,” I cried.

  He didn’t move or respond, just kept me pinned to the floor.

  I was suddenly aware of booted feet moving around me. I strained to see Barlow. His chair still lay on its side. His gaze was focused intently on me. He kept repeating the same thing over and over, but the meaning wouldn’t penetrate the haze fogging my brain. Stay down! Don’t move!

  Everything fell into place just then.

  The booted feet belonged to what appeared to be SWAT. Vargas lay on the floor a few feet away, his eyes unblinking, blood flowing from a wound at his throat.

  Backup had arrived.

  I was suddenly free of the weight pressing down on me.

  Chief Adcock helped me to my feet. Are you okay, Merri?

  He looked me up and down, noting the blood. Are you hit?

  I grappled for calm. “I’m not hurt…I…” My gaze dropped back down to Conrad. “He needs help.” The blood…so much blood. The lower portion of his shirt was completely soaked. I crouched down next to him. Had to stop the bleeding. He tried to speak to me but his mouth wouldn’t form the words properly or maybe I was too confused to follow. Fear ripped through me.

  Strong hands dragged me away from him. I tried to jerk free. I had to help! “Let me go!”

  Chief Adcock jerked me around to face him. Merri, you take care of Barlow. I’ll help Conrad, he urged. Please, I have the training…I know what to do. H
e ushered me toward Barlow, his eyes reassuring. There’s no time to waste. Paramedics are on the way but I have to get this bleeding under control.

  He was right. He knew what to do. I was too hysterical to do anything right. I hurried over to where one of the guys decked out in combat gear was helping Barlow to his feet.

  “Are you all right?” I shuddered, felt stupid for even asking the question. We were both alive…breathing was definitely all right. I surveyed his damaged face, then the rest of him. I didn’t see any new signs of blood. Thank God.

  Barlow nodded. You?

  I forced my head up and down in an affirmative response. My entire body felt fragile, somehow…like I needed to lie down. Or throw up…maybe both.

  As Adcock had promised, paramedics were suddenly swarming.

  Luther Hammond didn’t respond to attempts to revive him. I wanted to look away but couldn’t. My brain just couldn’t seem to pass along the proper commands to my limbs.

  Hammond was injured badly…maybe dying.

  He’d been hit center chest.

  Tiffany…she would be alone now.

  Somehow I managed to look away. Found myself staring back at where Mason Conrad lay, waging his own battle to survive. He had to make it. Adcock abruptly started waving his arms…demanding one of the paramedics to stop this guy from crashing.

  Crashing?

  I moved toward the evolving scene. Peered down at Conrad. His eyes were open. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. So much blood. He looked dead, too.

  An ache welled in my throat.

  “Help him!”

  The words roared out of me as I dropped to my knees. He couldn’t die, too. He’d saved my life. Someone had to help him. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

  I stared at his bloodstained shirt as the paramedic ripped it from his chest. Saw the leaking holes…one at his abdomen…one higher up.

  My gaze moved back to Conrad’s…he didn’t look at me…still didn’t move.

  I closed my eyes and pushed the images away. This was wrong.

  Not the way it was supposed to end.