Dirty Deeds (9 page)

"What?" He was looking at her with narrow green eyes.

She shook her head. It still didn't make any sense. "This is crazy. Pure crazy."

"Come on, Louie, I'm not a mind reader."

She took a deep breath. "They just received the report on the bullet they recovered from Kendall Stewart's house."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, well…the match is highly consistent with a bullet from another crime committed five years ago."

"And that means what exactly?"

Tears formed in her eyes even though she willed them away. It shouldn't affect her like this! She was a flipping professional, and it had been five years. She took another deep breath. "It means whoever killed Kendall Stewart also tried to kill my brother."

Chapter Six

Louie spent an hour at the lab talking with the weapons expert about the gun and ammo used to kill Kendall and almost kill Chris. He was yet another friend from her SPD days who patiently explained his finding. From there she walked to the Public Safety Building, where she spent another two hours with Fred. By the time she drove back to her office, she felt like she'd been through a wringer. She hadn't stopped in front of a mirror all day and suspected she looked as bad as she felt. Not a big concern; she wasn't trying to impress anyone. This was work and nothing more, even if her new partner was a walking magazine cover. She could never live up to that anyway, and it wasn't like her mother hadn't tried.

Paul, who'd accompanied her, had been very quiet all afternoon, though he'd listened carefully to what he heard at the lab and from Fred. He seemed to take it all in, weigh it for importance, and then store it away for when he might need it. The strong, silent type; they were the ones to watch out for. And the ones who sent her blood rushing.

When they'd finished with Fred, she managed to convince Paul to go home again. He was all set to be her 24/7 shadow. Yeah, she could use his help, at the very least pick his brain for the little details on James to keep her from wasting valuable time off on the wrong track. And yeah, he was easy on the eyes. But there was something about the ex-hockey stud turned coach that set her nerves on edge, and not in a bad way. It was damned freaky, if the truth be told.

Eons had passed since she'd felt drawn to a man, and never, never when she was involved in a case. Of course, the fact she never went to bars or clubs, hardly ever hung out with her friends anymore, and worked with only one man, Harry, meant she rarely met an eligible guy these days. Assuming Paul McDonald was even eligible. The more she thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed he'd be unattached. He was just too…
everything
to be on his own. At least that's the way he seemed and she wasn't a bad judge of people. She was pretty darned good as a matter of fact.

"Cut it out, Russell," she muttered.

"Cut what out?"

Her cheeks blazed red at the sound of Harry's voice. Where did he come from? Trying to look unfazed despite the flush in her face, Louie looked up and smiled. Not a hard thing to do. Harry always made her feel safe and comfortable. Smiles came easy when she was with her best friend.

"Ah, nothing, Harry. I'm just talking things out, you know."

Harry's intense gaze stayed on her face a breath too long. He wasn't buying what she was selling. Thankfully he took the high road and didn't push. She let out the breath she held.

He said, "Gotcha. Do the same thing myself now and again. So, how's it going with our little friend McDonald? Clock's ticking, ya know."

"Trust me, Harry, I hear it ticking loud and clear." She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Right now, it isn't going well. Last night McDonald's girlfriend or friend or whatever she was, got herself dead."

"No shit?"

"I shit you not."

He leaned against the door, his fingers turning a toothpick he held between his teeth. "Murder or suicide?"

"I'd personally put my money on murder."

"That sucks for her."

"Yeah, well, it gets worse. Whoever killed Kendall Stewart appears to be the same person who tried to kill Chris."

"Ya sure?" Harry sounded as amazed as she'd been.

Louie nodded and ran her fingers through her hair. All of a sudden she felt very tired. "It may not be the same person, but it is very definitely the same gun."

"Well, crap. What's that about?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. This James McDonald thing doesn't fit to begin with, and now this new wrinkle…well, I don't like it. This was supposed to be an easy case, Harry." She pointed an index finger in his direction. "I think you suckered me."

He continued to turn the toothpick in his mouth. "Hey, baby girl, I thought it was an easy one too. Maybe you should let the feds and the police handle it and we'll just collect on the bond." He took the toothpick out of his mouth and tossed it into her trashcan.

She frowned. "No, Harry. No. I said I'd bring James back and I will. If I quit tracking him because it's too hard or too dangerous, I might as well quit altogether. I can go back and be a desk jockey at the police department."

Harry laughed. "That'll be the day. You go back to the SPD? You may have left on good terms, baby girl, but go back? It'll never happen. The problem is now you've had a taste of this life and you'll never be able to go back to the constraints and the politics. They'd welcome you with loving arms and you, my pretty little partner, would end up hating every second of it."

She couldn't argue with him or his logic. She still had friends at the SPD who'd love nothing better than to have her return. A time or two during the last five years the thought had crossed her mind. She missed some of the action. She missed her dog. The thought of returning only lasted a few seconds. Harry was dead on. She loved what she did now and cherished the freedom it gave her. She'd never felt as empowered or alive as she did since becoming a bail enforcement agent. It would be a hard thing to give up. No, hard wasn't the right word. Impossible was more like it.

Harry continued, "Seriously, Lou, I'll pay the bond and the folks can ante up. It happens all the time. I say when folks start popping up dead, it's time to let the boys with the big guns take over. We're just the hired help, after all."

"No." She pushed up from her desk and slipped her keys into her pocket. "I'll find him and bring him back. Trust me, I'll do it."

What she didn't add was that when she got her hands on James, the two of them were going to have a nice long chat
before
she turned him into the feds. He'd tell her who wanted him bad enough to kill—a name she'd been waiting five years to hear.

She gave Harry a quick hug as she walked past him, loving the spicy scent of the spendy cologne he liked to wear. At the same time she wondered if he wore it because he had a date tonight. Good for him if he did. He was almost as bad as Louie when it came to solitude. A date wouldn't hurt either one of them.

* * * *

Time pressed at him with the force of a migraine. He never expected it of little James. If they were in the middle of a business transaction, James' cleverness would please him. He liked his people to move around unnoticed. Stealth was a good thing. Of course, if James had done that, he wouldn't have landed his little pale butt in jail. The arrest became a dangerous problem for all of them, not just for McDonald.

If he didn't get this cleaned up and soon, there'd serious and far-reaching complications. The old saying that shit rolls down hill applied here. Despite being up the food chain a fair notch, he was still a middle man, and there were others far more powerful than he. Those people wouldn't take it well if James wasn't neutralized soon. He didn't need the shit burying him. He hadn't come this far to be taken down by one careless Canadian.

He liked his life and the way things were. He had the freedom to do what he loved most and he wasn't ready or willing for a change. James would be found and taken care of. Once, there might have been choices on how to deal with him. Not any longer. James forfeited his options the same day he took off. The feds do not take it well when the indicted decide to run. Neither did he.

He was thinking about how to handle things when the phone next to him rang. His eyes narrowed. Caller ID showed a number he never expected to see on this line. He thought about not answering and then changed his mind. He didn't want to take the call. He didn't want them to think there was a problem either.

"Yeah."

"Have you found him?" The deep voice was cultured and succinct.

This was not good. "No, and why are you calling me on this line?"

The response was slow, unconcerned. "We aren't worried about calls being tracked to you; we're more concerned about Mr. McDonald."

His face felt warm. Nothing like the old blood pressure taking a spike. "So am I, and I'd appreciate it if you'd call the cell. The throw away phone can't be traced. This can."

"Are you going to handle things there or do we need to bring in someone to clean up your mess?" The mild tone to the caller's voice was gone. Venom now ran through his words.

The underlying threat wasn't hard to figure out. If they brought in a cleanup guy, he would find himself swept out with the rest of the trash. "No," he snapped. "I'll take care of this."

"Be sure that you do and make it soon."

He slammed the receiver down and took a long, deep breath. He better find the little snot and soon, or trouble would roll in like a tsunami. Turning to the computer, his fingers began to move over the keyboard. Time for a thorough search on the family of one James McDonald.

"Okay, little boy," he said to the screen. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

* * * *

When Louie walked outside, Meg was sitting on the lower step of the entry to the apartments. Her face was haggard and very unlike her normally cheerful countenance. Worry shot through Louie like a hot poker.

"Meg?" Louie changed direction and headed away from her car.

"Happy day, beautiful." Meg smiled and tipped up her face. Today she looked much closer to her eighty-seven years than Louie could ever recall. Beneath her sparkling eyes, dark circles stained her skin. She wore an old sweater wrapped tight around her body.

Louie frowned. Meg might be smiling, but she was far from happy. "What's wrong?"

Meg reached out and touched Louie's arm with ice cold fingers. The sun was going down behind the far mountains, and the day was quickly fading into darkness. Even so, the air was still warm enough to be comfortable. Meg's hands shouldn't feel like she'd just spent the afternoon in the North Pole.

"Nothing, child. Just sitting here to enjoy a bit of fresh air. My apartment was too stuffy tonight. I needed to get out for a little while. Sometimes, the walls just close in on me."

Louie wrapped her fingers around Meg's hand. It felt tiny and fragile in hers. She hoped to infuse some warmth into her friend. "Your hands are so cold."

Meg's smile turned sad. "Chalk it up to the ravages of time. The heart is still young, child, even if the body trembles and fades with each year. Not the quick, hot young thing I used to be."

"You're not fading, but you are freezing. Come on, let me help you upstairs and get some warmth back into your bones."

"No, Louise. I just want to sit and let the last of the sun warm me for a little while before it disappears behind the mountains. There will be a day when I'll no longer be able to watch the sunset. Can you see how beautiful it will be tonight, with the brilliant blues and crimson reds? It's the majesty of the Good Lord's best work."

Louie hadn't noticed the sunset, not that it was unusual for her to be oblivious. She was typically on a dead run, and to take the time to sit and watch a sunset was not in the cards for her. Still, tonight she stopped and looked. Meg was right; it was going to be spectacular. It was as if someone hand-painted the sky in deep, magical hues. Breathtaking.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

"Nature at its finest."

Her attention didn't stay on the sunset long. Louie didn't like the way Meg sat on the hard steps all wrapped up like a frightened child. There was nothing comfortable about the staircase; it was downright painful. "If you want to stay here and watch, at least let me go grab a chair for you. It'd be so much more comfortable than the steps."

Meg shook her head. "No, again. I'm only going to sit here for a little bit and these old steps are just fine."

"Are you really all right?" She needed to leave, and yet wanted to stay here to make certain Meg was okay. It felt somehow wrong to go with Meg huddled on the bottom step.

"I'm fine, now scoot and leave this old woman to enjoy her sunset in silence. Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" Meg smiled at her.

"Oh, Meg." Louie leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "You're a treasure. I'll check on you in the morning and I better find you upstairs with a nice cup of tea."

Meg patted Louie's hand. "I'll see you at seven. I have a lovely Earl Grey straight from jolly old England I think you'll like."

"Jet-setting again, are you?"

"No, no little one, I ordered it off the internet," she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to have done.

"Of course you did." Meg never ceased to amaze Louie. Nothing passed her by, not current events, not politics, and certainly not technology. Of course, neither had time, and it was never as clear to Louie as tonight.

As Louie walked away, Meg tipped her head to the late afternoon sun, the warm light spilling onto her wizened face. Louie took one more glance at her friend before she got into the car. Meg really was a treasure and one Louie worried about. She didn't relish the thought that one day, possibly one day soon, she could come out of her office and Meg would no longer be sitting on those steps. It made her heart ache and her throat constrict.

Twenty minutes later she sat next to Christopher's bed filling him in on the day's details. She told him all about her information search on James and his girlfriend. She told him about the ballistic findings, her conversations with the lab tech and her buddy Fred. She explained it all, including her ideas on what was happening in the James McDonald case.