Silent Weapon Page 8

  Barlow was right. I was jumpy. I’d had hardly any sleep. Who could sleep on the eve of a step this big? “Didn’t sleep well,” I offered in hopes of derailing the suspicion I saw in his eyes.

  He was proving every bit as perceptive as I had suspected he would be. He studied me a moment longer before turning back to the photographs and pulling up the other chair.

  Now we work. Again his gaze held mine for a beat too long after he’d made the statement, ultimately ratcheting up my tension another notch.

  For the next hour we reviewed the photographs. I memorized each name and face while Barlow explained how each man and the one woman factored into Hammond’s dirty life. The woman, Cecilia Woodruff, was an au pair. Somehow I had missed that part. Barlow explained that Hammond had an eight-year-old daughter named Tiffany. The mother, Heather Masters, a woman to whom Hammond had never been married, had died four years ago from a drug overdose. Barlow rummaged around in a folder and withdrew a photograph of a beautiful child. Long dark hair and the same gray eyes as her father. Looking at the child made me sad. She would be the one to suffer in all this. If this operation proved successful she would lose her father.

  Don’t do that.

  I shifted my gaze from Barlow’s lips to his eyes in an attempt to read the motivation behind the statement. The only thing he let me see was the intensity that occupied those analyzing eyes more often than not.

  Hammond has to be stopped. Sympathy for his daughter can’t get in the way.

  “I know that,” I admitted, though my heart ached for the child. “Is there a relative she can stay with once her father is out of the picture?”

  Barlow shrugged, though I felt certain he knew the answer. He simply had no intention of sharing it with me. I let it go. We had a lot of ground to cover. Getting caught up on this one issue was a bad idea.

  By noon I understood why few others in Metro liked Detective Barlow. He was relentless and unfeeling.

  Mathers, who is he? The demand hadn’t come out any nicer the second time than it had the first. The ability to hear wasn’t necessary. I could see the lines of tension in his face, the tightening of his mouth.

  I looked away from him and started to pace once more. I’d given up on keeping a seat an hour ago. I didn’t know who Mathers was. I couldn’t remember. He wasn’t one of the men in the photographs. I had those down. He…I scrubbed at my forehead. I just didn’t know.

  A tap on my shoulder jerked my attention back to my taskmaster. Hammond’s West Coast contact. Mathers is his West Coast contact.

  “Why do I need to know who he is? It’s not like I’ll see him!”

  Barlow stared at the floor a moment. Judging by the tension radiating through those broad shoulders I’d say he needed to get a firmer grip on his emotions the same as I did. I forced myself to take three slow, deep breaths. I had to calm down. Getting angry wasn’t going to help.

  That blue gaze collided with mine once more. You’re right, he said. He’d calmed down considerably if his relaxed expression was any indication. You most likely won’t see this guy. But I need you to be aware of all that you read on the lips of Hammond and his associates. There are names and phrases that signify crucial elements related to this case. You need to be able to recognize the relevance of the intelligence you gather.

  “Mathers,” I muttered, “his West Coast contact.” I nodded and took a deep breath. “Who’s next?”

  Let’s take a break, he said. We’ll resume our work after lunch.

  Unbelievable. I watched him walk away. The man was human after all. Required food for fuel. I chastised myself for being so unkind. I should give Barlow the benefit of the doubt. Just because I knew he didn’t want me on this case and I’d heard all the rumors about how he didn’t have any friends was no excuse to judge him harshly.

  It was up to me here to get our relationship off on the right foot. The least I could do was try.

  With a ham and cheese sandwich, complete with pickle spear and chips, and a nice big glass of iced tea, I was ready to chow down. Barlow, showing his gentlemanly side, waited until I had seated myself at the small kitchen table to join me. He didn’t, however, wait for me to begin eating.

  I took a moment to consider that today was the first time I had seen him in anything other than a suit. Though he didn’t wear sweats like me, he did have on faded jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. He’d traded in his Italian leather shoes for sneakers. Though he looked far from relaxed, he did look nice. I shouldn’t have been surprised. A guy as handsome as Barlow would look good wearing most anything.

  “Do you have family, Detective?”

  He paused in the devouring of his sandwich. Barlow was just as intense about eating as he was everything else. I wondered for a time whether or not he intended to respond before cleaning his plate.

  My family is in St. Louis.

  A Missouri boy, huh? “You grew up there?” Who knew? All this time I’d thought Barlow was most likely a born-and-bred Tennessee boy.

  Yes.

  Well, that was certainly the short answer. “Any brothers or sisters?” I persisted.

  Two sisters.

  Okay, now there was something we had in common. I was the only girl in my family and he was the only boy. “Older or younger?” I intended to have all the details. He might as well admit defeat now.

  Younger.

  Aha. I would bet this week’s powerball lottery offering that growing up with those two younger sisters had forged some of that brooding, overprotective persona. I barely managed to keep the smugness off my face.

  “Where did you go to college?”

  He pushed his empty plate aside and stared at me with something like tolerance. Is all this going somewhere in particular?

  Touchy. “I…” I shrugged in an attempt to play off the ferocity in his eyes. “I was just curious.”

  I graduated from the University of Missouri. I’ve never been married, haven’t even been close. I call my family a couple times a month but rarely get home for a visit. I date from time to time but I don’t bother pretending I want a relationship. Sex is good but I’m not interested in strings or attachments. Any more questions?

  I shook my head and redirected my attention to my lunch. My appetite had pretty much vanished, but I forced myself to eat just the same. No way was I going to let him see that his attitude bothered me. I realized that’s exactly what he wanted. He figured if he humiliated or frustrated me I’d give up and let it go. Well, Detective Barlow didn’t know me very well. I had no intention of giving up on anything. Not this case, not myself, not even him. I shivered as his words echoed inside me. He wanted the world to believe he felt nothing, needed no one, but I had a sneaking suspicion that his “back off” growl was more about self-preservation.

  Someone had hurt him. Really badly. I wondered why Helen hadn’t known about that. Of course I was only speculating, but the one thing I had always been good at was reading people.

  A cold, hard reality settled onto my shoulders. If I’d been so good, why hadn’t I realized the man I was supposed to marry wasn’t all I thought him to be? As soon as the going got tough, he got going. Walked out on the plans we had shared…away from us.

  I stood. Dumped the lunch I couldn’t finish in the trash and placed my plate in the sink. I was over that. Yes, it still hurt a little when I let it sneak up on me like this, but I didn’t dwell on it. If my turkey of an ex-fiancé walked in right now, I wouldn’t want him back. I had a new life. Plans, finally, for a fulfilling future. If I got through this operation successfully, I could have a career with Metro that offered an opportunity to make a difference.

  Nothing else mattered to me right now.

  I tamped down the guilt I felt about lying to my family. If things went wrong and I ended up…dead, my family would feel betrayed. My heart dragged downward like a stone in my chest. I didn’t want to hurt my family.

  Forcing the notion away, I decided there was only one thing to do…I could not fail. Whatever
else happened, I had to succeed. I would get the evidence Metro needed on Luther Hammond. I would not get myself killed in the process. And I would break through that icy exterior and make Detective Barlow respect me for what I was doing.

  I’m going to approach you from behind. When you feel my arm around your neck do your best to free yourself.

  I nodded, then turned my back to him.

  Several years ago I had taken a routine self-defense class. The kind designed to help women guard against rapes and muggings. After half an hour on the mat with Steven Barlow, I realized just how pathetic the course I’d taken actually was.

  His right arm came around my neck, pressed against my throat. Instinctively I stiffened. My fingers curled around his arm, but he was far too strong for me to hope to pull him loose. With his free hand he manacled my left arm and drew it back toward his midsection, indicating that I should elbow him hard there.

  I nodded my understanding. He moved my arm again, showing me the same move. I nodded a second time. I got it. I’d learned a similar move in the original class.

  He stepped away from me and I turned around to face him. Frustration lined his face. What had I done wrong? What did he want me to do?

  I need you to show me what you can do, he said, the features of his face tight with irritation…or maybe it was just the frustration. Do it for real.

  Now I was confused. “You want me to actually try to hurt you?” That didn’t make sense.

  I want you to protect yourself from me, he reiterated, the tension he’d radiated relaxing ever so slightly.

  A test, I decided. Maybe he thought if I couldn’t prove my ability to fend off an attacker he would have an excuse to call this whole thing off. He would cite my inability to defend myself. I would go back to filing closed and cold cases and he would find another way to do what had to be done. For the first time since Chief Kent had called me into his office and proposed this operation, I realized just how badly Barlow wanted me out of the scenario.

  Well, he was not going to get his wish.

  “All right.” Without meeting his eyes first, I turned my back on him. I didn’t want him to know that I was on to him now. Bring on the test.

  His arm went around my neck, closed in on my throat. I smiled as I mentally finalized my plan. I reached for his arm with both hands, tried to pull him away. He yanked me against his hard body and held me tighter. I struggled with his arm a few seconds before sagging as if I’d surrendered. When his arm relaxed ever so slightly I slammed my left elbow into his gut. I broke away as his upper body jerked forward with the spasms the blow to his midsection had caused. I didn’t stop there. I twisted to face him, hooked my leg behind his and shoved him hard. He went down like a fallen oak against the floor.

  He was back on his feet in almost the same instant. He dusted himself off and presented me with a crooked grin. Well, there was a first. I definitely hadn’t seen that before.

  Good job.

  Pride swelled in my chest. What do you know? I’d impressed the iceman.

  From there we went through a number of scenarios, some I’d encountered before in my self-defense class, many more I hadn’t. In the end, I felt fairly confident I’d impressed him.

  Funny how that feat had become more and more important to me as the day had dragged on. I’d barely had any sleep and adrenaline was all that had kept me going.

  I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until after we’d shared spaghetti that Barlow had prepared himself. He didn’t say much, mostly talked about how important it was that I remembered the names and faces. I agreed and didn’t prompt any additional chitchat. Detective Barlow wasn’t very good at it. And I was too tired to keep up the sparring. Eventually I’d excused myself and showered. My legs felt like leaden clubs. I just wanted to lie down and drop into blissful unconsciousness.

  My eyes had just closed and my brain had started to shut down conscious processes when I felt the mattress shift. In that moment of denial before my brain and body got on the same sheet of music, I told myself I’d simply turned over and hadn’t realized it.

  Then I felt another shift. My eyes flew open but the room was black as pitch. I opened my mouth to scream but a punishing hand came down over it before I could expel the sound. The full weight of a body settled on top of mine. My hands went to a hard chest and pushed.

  The scream died in my throat. My heart threatened to burst…and then my olfactory sense kicked into high gear. I recognized his scent.

  Detective Barlow.

  Fury whipped through me. What the hell did he think he was doing? The fingers of his free hand closed around my throat. My eyes widened with new fear. What if I was wrong? What if it wasn’t Barlow? Could I trust my senses?

  My blood stung with the renewed rush of terror searing through my veins.

  I had to do something. Had to fight back. My knee jabbed toward his groin. He moved quickly, deflecting the blow. But I took advantage of that momentary distraction and slammed the heel of my hand into what I hoped would be his nose. He thrashed atop me. I flung my fists at his face. Kicked hard and twisted to roll him off me.

  We hit the floor in a tangled heap of flailing arms and legs. I scrambled loose. Managed to get to my feet and race to the door. I jerked it open and flew out into the hall. “Barlow! Barlow!” I wasn’t taking any chances as to whether or not my attacker was someone besides him.

  The overhead light came on. I blinked to adjust to the sudden brightness. I whirled around and came face-to-face with a rumpled-looking Barlow.

  My first instinct had been right…it was him. The mental pat on the back I owed myself was temporarily overridden by irritation. “What the hell was that about?” I demanded.

  He swiped at his bruised nose. He wasn’t bleeding, but obviously the sting from the blow was still there. I couldn’t help getting a little joy from that.

  Very good, Walters, he said as he combed his fingers through his hair, straightening it. But you should have realized it was me. It’s very important that you use your other senses. Since you can’t hear the enemy coming, you have to attempt to feel him coming. Pay attention to your instincts.

  I moved in close, nose to nose. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

  That crooked grin that he rarely allowed to make a public appearance did so just then. My pulse reacted and I wanted to kick myself.

  Good answer.

  I rolled my eyes and headed back to my room. I couldn’t decide if he was yanking my chain because he could or if he felt it necessary to measure my reactions in the most unexpected situation. At least the most unexpected for me. I certainly hadn’t anticipated his climbing into bed with me.

  I shivered in spite of myself at the remembered feel of his weight. His chest had felt incredibly lean and hard. The man was definitely all muscle.

  He stepped in front of me just as I reached my door.

  Let’s review.

  I didn’t have to locate a clock and check the time to know it was nearly midnight. It had been well past ten o’clock when I dragged myself from the shower. Since I hadn’t managed any sleep last night, I could definitely use some tonight.

  “Can’t we do this in the morning?”

  I need to know that despite being tired you can still recall all that you need to.

  A part of me wondered if he got some sort of cheap thrill out of being in control, but that didn’t mesh with what I knew about his professional reputation. This guy was focused, relentless. He didn’t let anything stand in his way.

  “Let’s do it, then.”

  He led the way to the sanctuary, and without hesitation I recited the name that went with each face spread out on the table. It wasn’t that difficult. I’d spent four years as a schoolteacher. Part of my job had been learning new names and faces in a timely manner.

  Just as I was feeling pretty damned proud of myself he tossed new pictures, ones I hadn’t seen before, onto the table with the ease of a poker dealer laying down cards for a lone player. The
faces and setting were different in each photograph. I frowned, wondering what each scene meant. Business meetings or social gatherings?

  Quickly. Barlow tapped the first photograph. Name the faces you recognize.

  Okay, okay. I popped off each name without hesitation. Then we moved on to the next one. It wasn’t until photo seven that I stumbled.

  Look again, he ordered.

  I recognized Luther Hammond and his two personal bodyguards…the child and the au pair, Cecilia. Surely this one was a social function. I hoped Hammond didn’t involve his daughter in his dirty business. Clearing the distraction from my head, I scanned the two faces I couldn’t seem to recognize. I closed my eyes a second to search my short-term memory banks. Nothing.

  “I don’t know this man,” I admitted. I tapped the second face. “That one, either.” I resisted the urge to flinch. I wasn’t sure which was worse, his disappointment or my own feeling of defeat. With more dread than I’d felt since this intensive-training session began, I lifted my gaze to his.

  Good.

  Surprise and irritation immediately replaced the dread and disappointment. His lips twitched, but to his credit he kept any hint of a smile off his face.

  You don’t know these two. Hammond had both of them killed about three months ago. He suspected this one—he pointed to the unfamiliar face standing closest to Hammond—of flipping on him.

  “What about this one?” I indicated the other stranger.

  Barlow held my gaze for a moment before he answered. Something in his eyes forewarned me that what he was about to tell me would be less than palatable. This one was his daughter’s godfather.

  Something deep inside me shifted as the words filtered through my soul. “Why did he kill him?” Had Hammond suspected that the two men were involved in a scheme to bring him down? That seemed the most likely scenario since he’d killed them at the same time.

  Hammond had him executed because he thought his daughter had grown too attached to him.

  I stared at the little girl in the picture and then the man holding her hand. How could anyone do that to someone their child cared about? I shuddered. What was I saying? How could he kill anyone period? How could a mere human take such liberties with human life?