Silent Weapon Read online

  What was it going to take to make people realize that I couldn’t just fade into the background? I would never be happy simply existing.

  There had to be more.

  I wouldn’t accept any other scenario.

  Maybe I was in over my head, but that’s exactly where I wanted to be.

  Chapter 5

  Tuesday afternoon at quarter past four I tugged my purse strap onto my shoulder and waved a goodbye to Helen, whose shift didn’t end until five. Today had been busier than usual and I was ready to call it a day. Still, I didn’t exactly look forward to going home. At least being busy had kept my mind off last night’s family meeting. No one at work had mentioned the incident, not even Helen. I had a feeling Chief Kent had made sure all who knew about my undercover stint were reminded not to discuss the episode. I hadn’t heard a single peep from a soul.

  A couple of the detectives who dropped by the counter to check out a case file had studied me a little closer than usual, but that could have been my imagination.

  At the elevator I stabbed the call button and the doors slid open immediately. To my surprise Sarah waited in the car. She smiled.

  I was just coming to get you.

  I hated the way my guard went up immediately. This was Sarah, my lifelong friend…my brother’s wife. I shouldn’t feel ill at ease with her just because she was also the boss’s secretary. But somehow I did.

  “What’s up?” I managed an answering smile. My fingers twisted around the strap of my purse in anticipation of the worst.

  She flared her hands and adopted a “dunno” expression. Chief Kent would like you to sit in on an impromptu meeting with the other chiefs.

  The somersault in my chest knocked the breath right out of my lungs. “Okay.” I sucked in a mouthful of oxygen and joined her in the elevator. Looking as cool as a cucumber, Sarah leaned forward and pressed the button for floor six. My stomach dropped to my feet with the upward momentum of the car. Lord, what now? Had the chief decided he couldn’t keep me around after all? Maybe he’d decided I could be the poster child for things not to do while employed by Metro.

  I tried my best to keep my composure from slipping. I didn’t want to look scared or even nervous, for that matter. There was nothing I could do to change the outcome of the meeting except maybe beg for a second chance. Surely I could find another job. I had an excellent record with the exception of this one deviation. That had to count for something. Then again, I supposed I should have thought of that before I launched my Merri Walters amateur sleuth persona.

  On the sixth floor we stepped off the elevator onto plush carpeting. Unlike my work area in the basement, the walls up here were dressed in a warm coat of paint the color of sand. Reserved but elegant paintings, each highlighted by its own personal spotlight, adorned the walls. In the center of the reception area and at the end of the corridor on the left as well as the right, a lavishly detailed wood table supported a massive, lush bouquet of flowers.

  Sarah made a polite comment to the receptionist and then led me toward the corridor to the right and the main conference room, a place I’d never before had any reason to visit.

  She hesitated before opening the door and squeezed my arm. You’re going to be fine, Merri.

  I nodded, uncertain of my voice. I wasn’t as worried about being fine as in not in serious trouble, I abruptly realized. I was worried about being unemployed and having no one to blame but myself.

  Sarah pushed open the door and waited for me to step inside. When I’d ventured into the unknown territory, she gave me one last reassuring smile then stepped back into the corridor, closing the door behind her. I drew in a steadying breath and turned my attention to the room at large. The seven men seated around the oval conference table stood and Chief Kent introduced me before stating the name of each man in the room. Somehow I managed to keep my smile in place and my knees from giving way as I alternately watched his lips and met the expectant gazes of those he introduced.

  Please join us, Miss Walters. Chief Kent gestured to a chair directly across from his. We have a lot of ground to cover.

  The man closest to me pushed in my chair after I’d taken my seat. When he had settled back into his, the meeting began.

  For the next forty-five minutes I watched the men around the table discuss issues ranging from budget cuts to changes in the political atmosphere of Nashville. Not once did any of them ask me a question or direct any comment to me. To say I felt out of place would be a mammoth understatement. I felt like the token female in a hard-core men’s club. I truly had no idea why I was here.

  When the meeting concluded the room cleared without much fanfare. A few nods were tossed my way but nothing else. About the same time I decided this was my cue to leave as well, Chief Kent asked me to stay.

  I waited near the seat I’d kept warm for nearly an hour, mulling over yet again the fundamental question of why I had been asked to attend this meeting. I considered that surely if his intent had been to fire me he wouldn’t have had me sit in on this meeting. It didn’t make sense to fire an employee after exposing her to the worries and whims of all one’s chiefs. Adcock and Kent, on the other side of the room with their backs turned to me, continued a private conversation.

  I resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot, tried to remain patient. I couldn’t understand why I’d been asked to stay if the conversation didn’t include me. Just then the door opened and I glanced fully in that direction to identify who had entered the room. My jaw dropped and an entirely new kind of tension trickled through me.

  Detective Steven Barlow.

  So maybe I’d counted my chickens before they hatched. The weekend’s incident was the only reason I could think for having Barlow show up for a meeting with the chiefs that involved me.

  Let’s take our seats, Chief Kent suggested when Detective Barlow had moved around to the end of the polished conference table.

  My knees bent of their own accord, lowering me into my chair. Chief Kent resumed his seat directly across from me while Chief Adcock, the chief of Homicide, sat to his left. Barlow didn’t offer to move closer. Instead, he remained at the very end of the oval mahogany table designed to seat sixteen. That shouldn’t have made me uneasy, but it did. Truth was, he made me uneasy period.

  Miss Walters, Chief Kent began, I’m sure you’re aware that this weekend’s events have been discussed in-depth by Chief Adcock and myself during the past forty-eight hours.

  “Yes, sir.” I swallowed against the lump of uncertainty welling in my throat. How could I not have foreseen all this negative attention? I had foolishly assumed that everyone would be so thrilled I’d solved the case that I would be a hero…or at least admired and respected on some level. Man oh man, talk about failed expectations.

  Chief Adcock and I have considered at length how you managed this enormous feat. We’re intrigued with your somewhat raw investigative talent.

  Having said that…Chief Adcock picked up the ball next. We asked you to sit in on this meeting as a sort of test.

  A test? I wasn’t sure I understood. I glanced in Barlow’s direction but he kept his gaze focused straight ahead, not really looking at anyone in the room. My uneasiness scooted up a notch.

  “I’m not quite following,” I admitted, looking from one chief to the other.

  Barlow didn’t react, but the two chiefs exchanged a look. After a moment Kent took the lead.

  We’d like you to tell us as best you can, considering you had no advance notice of what was expected of you, what this meeting was about. Try to recall as many of the comments made by the various attendees as you can.

  I have to admit, that was about the last thing I expected him to say. But, if this little test would help me keep my job, I was definitely game. With that in mind, I did as requested. Taking my time, paying particular care not to leave anything out, I related everything I remembered about the meeting.

  When I’d finished I said as much.

  For several seconds no one
in the room spoke or moved. I worried then that maybe my voice had shaken more than I’d realized or that I’d left out something pertinent.

  Had I failed the test? It was difficult to gauge since I didn’t really know what precise milestones or standards were included in the test.

  I felt relatively confident about how much of the meeting I had recalled, but that didn’t mean I’d recited what they wanted to hear. Was I supposed to have made some sort of final conclusions or assessments? I didn’t think so.

  Excuse us a moment, Miss Walters, Chief Kent said. He and Chief Adcock stood and moved to the far side of the room, turning their backs to me once more, ensuring I didn’t eavesdrop on their conversation.

  I glanced at Detective Barlow, but he didn’t meet my gaze. The tension twisting inside me mounted. What was up with this? I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat. I did smooth my skirt, before clasping my hands in my lap. I wondered briefly if Sarah waited for me outside. Then I speculated as to whether or not she’d called my folks and relayed the latest in the saga of Merri Walters’s doomed career moves.

  I looked up when the two chiefs approached the table once more. I guessed now I would learn my fate.

  Miss Walters, Chief Kent said as he sat down, we have a rather unorthodox offer to make you.

  When the chief’s gaze shot to his right, to Detective Barlow, I turned in that direction as well.

  I want it on the record, Barlow said without even a glance at me, that I object to this so-called unorthodox offer. His expression alone made it quite clear that he disagreed with whatever Chief Kent was about to propose.

  Anticipation seared through my veins. What was going on here?

  Your objection is noted, Adcock said. He did so rather pointedly, if the irritation lining his face was any measure.

  A moment passed before Kent spoke again. If you choose not to accept this offer it will in no way affect your present position, Miss Walters.

  He definitely had my attention now.

  I moistened my lips and asked, “What sort of offer?” I felt my heart start to beat harder as I waited for him to explain. I couldn’t help hoping that somehow my unofficial investigation had actually put me in line for something more than filing records in the basement. If that proved the case, I had to say the two chiefs had taken the long way getting around to it.

  I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Raby case, Chief Kent said, but Arthur Raby was one of the most highly respected pillars of this community until his death just over one year ago. In his life he served as a city councilman, deputy mayor and champion of numerous noble causes. No one loved this city more than Arthur Raby. I considered him one of my closest friends and confidants.

  I remembered the name. Raby was shot down by an unknown assassin. His murder was thought to have been connected to his bucking a huge development planned by some corporation on the outskirts of Nashville. Raby had been working for years to help set up a new rent-to-own, so to speak, low-income housing development. The corporation, in contrast, wanted to build a golf course and high-end housing development. The hope was to begin to turn the south side of Nashville into another Franklin or Brentwood. I hadn’t kept up with the progress of either development after the initial flurry of news related to Raby’s murder, but I was pretty sure the golf course and mansions had won out over the proposed low-income housing. Seemed like people in the development business liked killing the competition. But this particular case was way bigger than Sawyer and Carlyle. Strip malls and apartment buildings were peanuts compared to the plans Arthur Raby had fought to derail. Bottom line: big-time real estate could be murder.

  We, Chief Adcock said, drawing my attention back to the two men seated across the table from me, were unable to pursue the case as we would have liked since the Federal Bureau of Investigations had jurisdiction.

  That surprised me, but I did vaguely recall some noise in the papers about increasing tension between Metro and the bureau. In all honesty I had been deep in the throes of my own problems and hadn’t been more than superficially aware of anything else.

  “Why was the bureau involved in the first place?” I asked. I hated to admit I didn’t know why, but I was, after all, just a civilian—one who’d taken little note of the problems of the world during that time frame of personal devastation.

  Are you familiar with the name Luther Hammond? This from Kent.

  “No, sir.” Okay, I was sounding dumber by the moment. I wondered if they would change their mind about an offer of any sort considering how little I appeared to know about the subject. I also considered whether or not I might be better off if they did change their mind. I chucked the concept and forced my mind back on the matter at hand.

  Attention shifted down to Barlow’s end of the table. I settled my gaze on his well-formed lips. I blinked, wondered why I would in a million years notice that just now. This definitely was not the time.

  Luther Hammond is a thug of the highest order, Barlow said. He glanced at Chief Kent but I didn’t turn to the chief quickly enough to catch whatever he said.

  I shifted my gaze back to Barlow in time to follow his next words.

  When you encounter the word mob you surely understand the implications?

  The question was intended for me, I realized. I nodded stiffly. It wasn’t quite clear to me whether or not he’d intended to be condescending. His expression didn’t give away his emotions, but his words made me feel just a little more uncomfortable.

  Luther Hammond is the mob in this city. Again he said the words with no readable emotion.

  I blinked, startled. Nashville had a mob? Since when? I’ve lived here all my life.

  His reach includes every imaginable evil from drugs to prostitution to cheating on his taxes and everything in between. He strong-arms politicians and cuts down anyone who gets in his way.

  Something akin to fear shimmered through me. The tummy-twisting sensation you feel when something goes bump in the middle of the night and you can’t remember if you locked the door or some accessible window before collapsing into bed. How could such a monster be operating in my hometown without my knowledge? Was I that far out of touch? A part of me wanted to ask what this had to do with my recent actions or, for that matter, with me, but that twinge of fear kept my lips tightly sealed. I had a disturbing feeling I was about to find out.

  He’s a killer, Barlow added. He killed Arthur Raby and got away with it just as he gets away with the rest of his dirty deeds. This time I could see the fury burning in those piercing blue eyes. Detective Barlow hated Luther Hammond and that hatred went way deep. I braced against the shiver that realization elicited.

  So far I’d made only two connections to the case I’d been involved in and this one, murder and real estate. I, as all those present well knew, was no expert in either.

  “How does he get away with it?” I asked before I had the good sense to stop myself. I felt reasonably sure I was supposed to be playing the part of listener in this.

  Barlow’s gaze shifted from me to Chief Kent, clueing me in to who was speaking next.

  Because we haven’t been able to come up with enough evidence to stop him. Kent appeared to consider his next words carefully before continuing. Initially the bureau kept us out of their case. But we’ve gotten past that and now we have an opportunity to get in with our own agenda.

  Hammond’s security is extremely tight, Chief Adcock said. We’ve tried repeatedly to get to him. But he’s too smart for the usual methods. No amount of surveillance has touched him. His people stay on the cutting edge of technology. We haven’t been able to even get close. Like Chief Kent and Barlow, until the last, Adcock kept his expression carefully schooled. I paid close attention as he continued.

  The opportunity Chief Kent spoke of is a position within Hammond’s household staff. For several years now Hammond has used the same cleaning service. The service comes in twice a week and does the heavy cleaning, but Hammond requires a live-in maid as well. The duties are f
airly minimal. Keep the small details straight, putting books back on their shelves, make the beds daily. No kitchen duty, he added hastily. The chef has his own assistant who takes care of those chores.

  We’ve nurtured a contact within the cleaning service. Kent took up the story from there. This contact is willing to place an undercover operative in the position.

  Sounded like a tremendous step in the right direction. I just couldn’t figure out what it had to do with me.

  As Chief Adcock mentioned, the traditional methods of surveillance don’t work on Hammond. He knows all our tricks. Kent fell silent a moment as if he needed to assess my reaction thus far before he went on. We need something he won’t expect. We need you, Miss Walters.

  For a moment I waited for him to say more, certain I’d misunderstood somehow. Abruptly I realized it was my turn to speak. “Me?” I’m sure the single syllable came out more a squeak than a word.

  With your…impairment, Chief Adcock explained, Hammond would never suspect you of listening in, if you get my meaning. He wouldn’t consider a woman such as yourself a threat.

  He had a point there. If Luther Hammond was half the monster the men in this room thought him to be, I doubted anything about me would threaten him in any way.

  If you choose to accept this assignment, Miss Walters, Chief Kent said, you will be working directly with Detective Barlow.

  Okay, now I was lost. “I don’t understand,” I confessed. How could I possibly help Detective Barlow? I knew nothing about Hammond or this case. Yes, I could see that the man would never in a million years feel threatened by me, but I couldn’t see how that fit into my accepting the assignment to work with Detective Barlow. Most likely anything I would be involved with would be behind the scenes. I had definitely learned the hard way that I lacked the necessary experience to do field work.

  The chiefs swapped another of those unreadable looks. Chief Kent took a stab at clarification. We would like to place you inside Hammond’s home, as his new maid. Our hope would be that your phenomenal lip-reading ability would prove useful in gathering intelligence on Hammond’s ongoing operations.