Silent Weapon Read online

  I felt my eyes go wide at the same time my heart stumbled a couple of times before flopping back into a recognizable rhythm. Me? Go undercover in the home of a mobster?

  I realize we’re asking a great deal of you, Miss Walters. Adcock looked contrite and I realized then I’d uttered my questions out loud. This kind of sacrifice is far above and beyond the call of duty. But, to be quite frank, we’re desperate to bring down Hammond and his empire.

  Forcing my mind past the obvious, that I was untrained and completely inept in the field, I asked, “What’s to keep him from discovering my true identity?” Hey, I’d watched enough movies to know what happened to undercover operatives whose covers were blown. That was the part of the movie where I turned my head.

  We’ve set up a new background for you, Adcock explained. Since your work here as well as your life has been rather low-key, at least until recently, and we believe we have that incident under wraps, there is nothing to connect you to anything other than the cover we’ve arranged. If Hammond runs a background check on you, he’ll find that you’ve been employed by the cleaning service since you reentered the work force just over one year after the onset of your impairment.

  Chief Kent hastened to add, All you have to do is watch Hammond and his associates in your capacity as the live-in maid. Detective Barlow will arrange ways for you to pass along whatever you learn.

  I told myself this was the break I’d been looking for. The opportunity to do more. But other confusing thoughts kept muddying my ability to grasp the concept. “How long would this assignment last?” That was a legitimate question. I congratulated myself for being able to at least come off as reasonable.

  There’s no way to answer that question, Adcock admitted. You could be there days, possibly weeks.

  I frowned. “What about my family? What do I tell them?” Now, there was a problem that wouldn’t be that easily resolved. My folks are intensely overprotective. I couldn’t just drop off the family radar with no explanation, and accepting this kind of assignment would not be acceptable.

  Miss Walters, Chief Kent said, if you accept this assignment no one can know. Your cover has to be protected at all costs. Your family and friends will need to believe you’re away for job-related training.

  That could work. Lying to my family wasn’t something I felt comfortable with, but this wasn’t exactly lying, I told myself. Excitement began to inch up my spine. This was it. My opportunity to prove I could do more, make a difference. If I made this happen, how could Metro not consider me for a real investigative position? Considering how desperate the chiefs were, I felt certain I could finagle whatever training I needed for an investigative-profiler-type career move.

  I now fully comprehended the test. The chiefs had wanted to ascertain how much of the various comments made during the meeting I could gather and recall. Clearly I had made an impression.

  The whole setup sounded simple enough. “When do I start?” I looked from one chief to the other. Their attention shifted to Barlow. I snapped my gaze in his direction. Jesus, I’d almost forgotten about him in all the excitement. A smile quirked my lips. I couldn’t believe it! My plan had worked, gotten the right attention. I, Merrilee Walters, was going to be an undercover investigator on a very important case.

  Just so you understand, Miss Walters, Barlow said, his face impassive as usual, there is no way for us to protect you once you’re inside.

  Both Chief Adcock and Chief Kent looked uncomfortable with Barlow’s statement.

  I considered his comment a moment. “I’ll be on my own,” I suggested, looking directly at him.

  That’s right. You and I will set up a code to indicate you need help, but there’s no way to guarantee you’ll be able to get to a phone to call me if you need me. Once you’re inside you’ll be completely on your own.

  A shiver rattled my excitement. “Will I be expected to carry a weapon?” I had never fired a gun in my life. I had taken the requisite self-defense class for females wanting to protect themselves from attack back in college, but nothing more.

  Barlow shook his head in answer to my question. You’ll be a maid. Maids don’t carry deadly weapons. Going in you’ll likely be considered suspect by everyone already on staff. Your acceptance will take time. Getting close enough to watch Hammond or his associates will require your total acceptance. The only way you’re going to do any good is if Hammond lets down his guard in your presence. The only way you’ll get out of there alive is if you don’t blow your cover.

  Miss Walters… Kent flared his hands to draw my attention back to him. We’ll protect you as best we can any undercover operative. There are, of course, no guarantees. This assignment comes with undeniable hazards.

  Unless you blow your cover, Adcock spoke up, there will be no reason for Hammond or his men to harm you. You’ll be completely safe as long as you stay within the boundaries of what is expected of your position.

  We have a very small window of opportunity here, Kent urged. Detective Barlow will provide the background information you need and the necessary training before you go in, but our time is sorely limited. You’ve given us hope, Miss Walters. Hope that we can finally hold Hammond accountable for his crimes. Without your help I’m not sure the feat is in any way feasible.

  How could I say no? My heart beat like a drum. This was exactly the break I’d been looking for. I wanted to do this. Wanted to put myself in a position to have some leverage. But first I needed some guarantees.

  “If I agree to do this,” I said bluntly, “what assurances do I have that I’ll be allowed to pursue a career here at Metro as an investigator?”

  Chief Kent smiled, his relief palpable. Miss Walters, you help us bring down Hammond and you can pick the division of your choice. We’ll see that you get the training you need and the future of your career will be yours to do with as you please.

  I bit my lips together to hold in a victorious yes. There was no question, I intended to take the assignment. Truth was, I wanted to run around the table and hug both chiefs for offering me this fantastic opportunity, but I didn’t want to look like a pushover.

  “All right, gentlemen,” I said, my pulse skipping in anticipation. “When do I begin?”

  Before either of the chiefs could respond, their attention swung to the end of the table. Barlow had shoved back his chair and stood. He didn’t speak or even spare the rest of us a glance before he did the absolute last thing I had expected.

  He walked out.

  Detective Steven Barlow made it to his office on the fourth floor before he got the call ordering him to return to Chief Kent’s office. He slammed the receiver into its cradle and stormed back to the stairwell. His rage grew with every step he took. By the time he’d reached the sixth floor his temper was out of control.

  He hesitated at the door that would take him into the elegantly appointed corridor leading to the chief of police’s office. He had to get his anger back under control. He was this close, he mentally pictured a two- or three-millimeter expanse between his thumb and forefinger, to blowing his career. He had to take a step back, regain some badly needed perspective.

  The deal was done. Merri Walters had taken the bait, hook, line and sinker. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d risked her life to set that trap for Sawyer. Steven shook his head slowly from side to side. How in the hell had she come up with that scheme? If he’d ever met a woman more determined to prove she could do anything he’d blocked the memory from his mind. This deaf lady was one ambitious woman. He’d looked into her professional and academic history. There was nothing in her background that indicated motivation for such a drastic change in character…except the loss of her hearing.

  Steven could almost understand her need to prove her worth in spite of the devastating tragedy. But proving her worth was one thing, agreeing to a suicide mission entirely another. His fury peaked again. The very idea that Kent and Adcock would use the vulnerable woman made him want to rip off their heads and…

  E
nough. He shook off the fury. He had to pull it together here. Had to think rationally. Going off the deep end with his superiors wouldn’t help. As much as he hated what was about to go down here, he had to be a part of it. No one knew as much about Luther Hammond as he did. He had been the one to develop the contact with the cleaning service. It was up to him to make sure this went down as planned.

  As arrogant as it sounded, he was Merri Walters’s best bet at surviving this assignment, whether she realized it or not.

  Steven opened the door and strode down the quiet corridor until he reached Chief Kent’s office. His secretary, Sarah Walters, had already gone home for the evening. Just as well. Anything she might overhear could prove detrimental to the confidentiality of the case where the Walters family was concerned.

  “Detective Barlow.” Kent motioned to a chair in front of his desk.

  Steven took the seat and waited for the hailstorm to start. This wouldn’t be the first or the last time he would be dressed down by Kent or Adcock…or both.

  “You, of all people,” Kent began his monologue, “understand the importance of this case.”

  Steven slammed the door shut on the memories that instantly tried to surface. Kent’s comment didn’t require an answer. His chief was well aware of Steven’s feelings about Hammond. He hated the bastard for more reasons than one, but he wasn’t going there now. It had taken Steven a long time to learn to handle his hatred for the man…he had to hang on to that control now.

  “We have one shot here, Barlow,” the chief urged. “We might never have a chance like this again. We have to stop him.”

  Steven stared directly at the chief, allowed him to see exactly how he felt before he spoke. “You’re right. This is our best shot at stopping him. But we have female investigators in Metro. Using a civilian isn’t necessary.”

  The chief heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it, Barlow?”

  Since he wasn’t sure what the chief meant by that remark, Steven kept his mouth shut.

  “You see everything as black or white. Play by the rules. Never deviate.”

  Steven shrugged. “Isn’t that what we’re here to do?” What was so wrong about doing the right thing? Making the best choices? He knew that most of his peers took the other route, bending the rules and stepping on toes as necessary to get the job done. He supposed that was why he wasn’t very well liked around the bullpen. He refused to bend the rules, rejected even the possibility of presenting himself in a way that disrespected the gold shield he carried.

  Chief Kent’s expression hardened. “I’m not going to play that holier-than-thou game with you. Yes, we have female detectives, but none of them can read lips. None of them has the power to put Hammond at ease in this way. Miss Walters wants this opportunity. Hasn’t she made that quite clear? You can make this happen, Barlow. I know you. If there is anyone in Metro who can do it, you can.” Kent smiled knowingly. “You’ll make it happen and you’ll keep her safe. I have complete faith in you.”

  For several moments Steven couldn’t speak without fear of blasting the chief. Yeah, he would do everything within his power to keep the woman safe. That went without saying. The problem was, outside of a miracle straight from God, he doubted anything he or anyone else did would be enough.

  Merri Walters had agreed to walk into her own death trap.

  Chapter 6

  I dropped my bags to the floor and looked around the large sanctuary.

  “Is this a church?” I asked the question but I already knew the answer. I knew a church when I saw one.

  Detective Steven Barlow paused alongside me and turned his face toward mine. It used to be. Now it’s a sanctuary of another sort.

  “A safe house?”

  He shrugged. Sometimes. Other times we use it for a special operations base or training facility.

  Taking a deep breath I looked around again. Stuffy. The air reeked of age and disuse. Whatever the Metro cops had used the place for, it still smelled like an old church.

  The entry vestibule and main sanctuary led to one big open space, like a gym. No pews or pulpit. Lots of workout equipment, including a punching bag and a few pieces I didn’t recognize.

  Barlow tapped my arm. When my gaze reached his he jerked his head to the right. This way.

  I picked up my bags and followed him across the expanse of hardwood floor. I wondered if our steps echoed in the cavernous space. My imagination conjured up the remembered sound. A soft thwack thwack. Like that. Yeah. Probably. My attention then settled on the broad shoulders of the man, Detective Barlow.

  He’d picked me up at my house at the crack of dawn this morning. We’d driven around for almost an hour, to lose any possible tail he’d explained, before arriving here. Last night when Sarah called to quiz me about my meeting with the chiefs I’d given her the same story I’d given my parents. An opening at a school in Knoxville had come available and Chief Kent had thought of me. He understood my desire to work in investigations so he’d considered this three-week course in cold-case profiling the perfect answer.

  The family had swallowed the bait.

  My attention shifted back to the man who’d brought me here.

  Not married, I decided. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that alone was not definitive proof. I had asked Helen the last day we worked together. She had laughed. Almost wet her pants before she managed to stop. According to Helen, who had worked at Metro for half a lifetime, Steven Barlow was married to the job. No mere woman would ever have a chance snagging the handsome detective. It would take a very special woman, she had insisted, to break the man’s fierce focus on his work.

  Since I wasn’t in the snagging market or particularly special it really didn’t matter to me. I was simply curious. Given that I would be working closely with him on this case I needed as much information as possible. My life, to some degree, depended upon him and his reliability. From all accounts I didn’t have anything to worry about, reliability-wise. My research indicated Steven Barlow was one of the finest detectives employed in any Metro division.

  Barlow led me into a short hall off the sanctuary. He indicated the four doors lining the hall. The kitchen and two bedrooms. He glanced at the fourth door. Bathroom.

  The living area that once served as home sweet home to the priests assigned to this church, I concluded. I followed my new mentor through one of the doors into a sparsely furnished bedroom. Narrow wooden cot, a modest dresser and night table with lamp.

  Barlow placed the bag he carried for me on the cot. I’ll take the room across the hall. He moved back to the door. When you’re ready, join me in the gym.

  A spiritual sanctuary turned workout gym. I sure hoped this old church would give me an extra in with God. According to Barlow, this was a suicide mission and I needed all the support I could get. I stared at the door he had closed behind him. We had our work cut out for us. That’s what he’d said on the way here.

  He didn’t have very much faith in me. I found it ironic as hell that he’d brought me to a church to train me. Then again, I don’t know that the place was his choice. I surveyed the room again. Well, I liked it.

  I didn’t take the time to put anything away. I wouldn’t actually be here long enough to bother with unpacking. And I definitely didn’t want to keep Barlow waiting. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Checked the ties of my sneakers and headed for the sanctuary…gym. I’d worn sweatpants and a T-shirt since he’d suggested I come prepared for a workout.

  Barlow waited at the front of the room, where the pulpit would have been, near a long metal table. The table and a couple of metal folding chairs were the only pieces of actual furniture in the large room.

  He pointed to one of the chairs. I’d like you to study these photographs and the name that goes with each.

  I nodded and took a seat. A dozen photos were spread across the tabletop, and each was labeled with a name and brief history. Barlow left the room. I didn’t have to turn around, I
felt his withdrawal. Unable to quell my curiosity, I turned around just to make sure I was right. Good. I was working hard to focus on the details in an effort to maintain a keen awareness of all my remaining senses. I needed my working senses as sharp as possible.

  Turning my attention back to the business at hand, I surveyed the photos, none of which meant anything to me until I reached the final one.

  Luther Hammond.

  He was younger than I had expected. Mid to late thirties, around the same age as my detective mentor. And he was quite good-looking for a mobster. Not that I’d ever met any mobsters, but he didn’t look anything like the ones portrayed in the entertainment business. He looked like the typical, elegantly dressed businessman one would meet on the street with briefcase in hand.

  Dark hair, gray eyes. Hardly any lines on his face. Tall. The photo wasn’t just a headshot. It was of Hammond in a restaurant I didn’t recognize. In the past couple of years I hadn’t gotten out much. He faced the camera and was talking to another man, while a number of others stood around him. His posse? I looked through the other photos to see if any of the faces matched the ones in the photo with Hammond. Only two. Mason Conrad and Victor Vargas. His bodyguards? Both stood close, maybe one or two steps behind him. Now, these two men looked dangerous.

  Barlow reached past my shoulder and tapped Conrad’s photo. I just about jumped out of my chair. My hand went to my throat as I fought to catch my breath. So much for sharper senses. When my gaze finally latched on to his, Barlow said, Hammond’s second in command and personal bodyguard.

  So I had been right about Conrad. Almost as tall as his boss but younger, Conrad had dark hair and eyes. At least I’d done something right. I inhaled another deep breath and then nodded for the detective’s benefit.

  You seem a little jumpy this morning.