Chapter Thirteen
Slater listened to Taylor shouting profanities and threats all the way out of the house. Moments later, Sonya texted him to let him know that Taylor had gotten in her Jag and driven off. Slater was betting, though, that she wouldn’t stay gone. There was something going on between her and Leonard, and Taylor would no doubt return once she’d burned off some of her anger.
“I’m sorry,” Marsh muttered, directing the apology to Leonard. “I didn’t know Taylor would be here, but when I saw her car, I thought she might be...well, I didn’t know if she was trying to make you believe I was the one who killed Stephanie. I didn’t,” he emphasized, glancing at all three of them.
“But you believe Taylor did team up with Buck,” Slater said, taking the photo from Marsh to get a better look.
Slater studied the image, but it was hard to tell if it had indeed been photoshopped. Even if it was the real deal, though, it didn’t prove Taylor’s guilt. After all, the woman had already admitted that she knew Buck.
“I don’t know for certain,” Marsh said. “But something’s going on with her.” He groaned, shook his head. “She wanted us to get back together, and when I told her no, that it was never going to happen, she just seemed to lose it.”
Slater glanced at Leonard to see how he was reacting to that. Not well. He was scowling and looked to be on the verge of muttering something. He didn’t. When he noticed Slater staring at him, he shut down and on went his poker face. If the man was having an affair with Taylor, though, he probably wasn’t pleased about Taylor trying to reconcile with Marsh.
Well, maybe he wasn’t.
It was possible that if an affair was truly going on between him and Taylor, it was only about sex.
“You can keep the photo,” Marsh told Slater. “In case you want to send it to the crime lab. I took a picture of it,” he added, lifting his phone.
Slater nodded, but while it probably wouldn’t give them any new information, he would indeed send it to the lab since it possibly contained fingerprints of the person who’d left it. If those prints belonged to Leonard, then it could add to the circumstantial evidence against him.
Marsh said his goodbyes to Leonard and headed out, but when he opened the office door, Slater didn’t see the guy in the suit who’d been there earlier, and he wondered if this “assistant” had stepped out to make sure Taylor had truly left.
“Where’s your mother?” Leonard asked Lana the moment Marsh was gone.
Lana sighed. “I’m not going to tell you that.”
And just like that, Leonard’s fierce anger returned. “She won’t answer my calls, and I have to talk to her. I need to find out why she’s telling these lies about me before the lies get out of hand.”
In other words, before the press picked up on them. But Slater had no intention of helping the man defuse that kind of bad press. Apparently, neither did Lana.
“No,” she said, and there was no indication in her tone that she would change her mind.
Her father must have realized that, too, because he cursed again. “Get out,” Leonard told them. “Both of you. Now.”
Slater looked at her and nodded. They weren’t going to get a confession or anything else from her father. The man had dug in his heels and had already taken out his phone, no doubt to get started on finding his wife. Slater had to make sure that didn’t happen. At the moment, Pamela didn’t have a guard with her, but that could be arranged.
He and Lana threaded their way through the massive house to the front door and out onto the porch. Still no sign of the guy in the suit, but Slater immediately noticed the black Mercedes that hadn’t been there when they’d arrived.
Sonya stepped out of the cruiser and looked at them from over the top of the vehicle. “It’s Marsh’s,” she said, tipping her head toward the thick gardens on the right side of the house. “He muttered something about going for a walk.”
Slater immediately got an uneasy feeling about that. If Marsh had needed to cool off, why do it here? Why not just go back to his own place?
Some movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Slater saw something else he didn’t like. Taylor’s car. It was parked up by the gate—which was also on the right side of the property. He couldn’t tell, though, if she was still inside.
“She drove off but then came back,” Sonya explained as Slater and Lana started down the steps.
Maybe waiting for all of them to leave so she could go in and try to mend fences with Leonard. But again, that made Slater uneasy.
“Did she get out?” Slater wanted to know. If she’d seen Marsh walking, Taylor might have wanted to continue her argument with the man.
“It’s possible,” Sonya admitted. “The passenger side of her car is hidden by the gate post.”
It was, and Taylor could have slipped out that way if she hadn’t wanted Sonya or anyone else to see her.
“Get in the cruiser,” he told Lana.
But he was already too late.
The shot blasted through the air, tearing into the wood column right next to where Lana was standing. She dropped onto the limestone steps. So did Slater, and he immediately tried to pinpoint where the shot had come from. If he wasn’t mistaken, it had come from the area where Marsh had gone for his “walk.”
Slater drew his gun and lifted his head. No sign of the shooter, but thankfully Sonya had taken cover back in the cruiser. That was where Slater wanted Lana to be right now, but there were eight porch steps between them and the driveway and another ten feet of space after that. Not especially far, but they’d be easy targets if they stood still.
Another shot came right at them, and the shooter had obviously adjusted his aim because this one smacked into the step just above Lana’s head. Lana was clearly the target here, and the shooter had too good an aim. He had to get her out of the line of fire and fast.
Cursing, Slater caught on to Lana and rolled with her to the side. More shots came. One right behind the other, each tearing up the stone and sending shards flying. Slater prayed none of them hit Lana.
They finally reached the side of the steps, and they dropped down into the shrubs. The bushes definitely wouldn’t stop any bullets, but at least this way, the shooter might not be able to see them.
“Stay down and let’s move,” Slater instructed. He wanted them away from the spot near the porch where the shooter had last seen them.
Lana had drawn her gun, too, and she kept it gripped in her hand as she maneuvered onto her belly. Her breath was gusting now, and she was probably getting hit with the mother lode of adrenaline. She had to be terrified, but she got moving, crawling away from the porch.
The shooting didn’t stop, and even though Slater hadn’t actually counted the number of bullets fired, he figured the shooter either had more than one weapon or had reloaded. In other words, he or she had come prepared for this.
But who was it?
Who was trying to kill Lana?
It was possibly Marsh, who hadn’t actually gone for that walk after all but rather had positioned himself for this attack. But it could also be the guy in the suit who worked for Leonard. If so, Leonard would have been the one to order Lana’s murder. Maybe just as he’d ordered Stephanie’s.
However, Slater’s money was on Taylor.
He had no idea if she’d had firearms training, but that wouldn’t be hard to get. And with her temper, she could want to get back at Lana—especially if Taylor was Buck’s accomplice.
I’m not working by my lonesome. I’ve got a helper. A cold-blooded one. And Lana and you are going to die.
Those had been Buck’s dying words, and while Slater had hoped it was all a lie, it was possible this was the plan Buck had set in motion before Slater’s bullet had killed him.
There was a flurry of more shots, and Slater moved so he could send his own bullet in the direction of the shooter. He double-tapped the trigger, hoping he’d get lucky and take out this person. There was no yelp of pain, though, no thud to indicate a bullet hitting flesh.
And the gunfire continued.
But Slater heard something else. The sound of a car engine, and it was moving closer to him and Lana. Hell, he hoped the shooter hadn’t managed to get into a vehicle and was now planning on ramming into them. The alarm he saw in Lana’s eyes let him know she was thinking the same thing.
His phone dinged with a text, and when Slater managed to get it out of his pocket, he saw Sonya’s name on the screen. And her message eased some of the knotted muscles in Slater’s gut.
“Sonya’s moving the cruiser between us and the shots,” he relayed.
It was a welcome ploy, but it wasn’t without risk to Sonya. The cruiser was bullet-resistant, but that didn’t mean gunshots couldn’t get through. If the shooter was determined enough, he or she could now try to kill Sonya.
More shots came, and Slater could hear them now slamming into the cruiser. He could see the cruiser, too, through the tiny gaps in the row of thick shrubs. Sonya wasn’t just maneuvering so the cruiser would be a shield. Slater thought Sonya was trying to get into position so he and Lana could be able to crawl into the cruiser through the passenger-side door.
In the distance, Slater heard a welcome sound. Sirens. Maybe Leonard had called the cops, but he was betting Sonya had been the one to do that. Even if Leonard’s assistant wasn’t the one firing those shots, Lana’s father probably would have preferred to handle this himself and not deal with the publicity that was certain to follow.
At the thought of Leonard, Slater glanced back at the porch steps. He couldn’t actually see the front door from his position, but he didn’t think it was open. He hadn’t expected it to be, but where was Lana’s father right now? Was he cowering inside, or was he waiting for his assistant to finish the job he’d started?
Sonya continued to draw fire as she backed the cruiser into place, and the moment she was dead even with him and Lana, she must have leaned across the seat because the back door of the cruiser opened.
There wasn’t an easy way to get inside it since it meant them squeezing through the shrubs that scratched and tore at them. Still, it was better than staying put where they could be shot and killed if the shooter changed positions.
The wail of the sirens got even closer, and Slater gave Lana a final push through the shrubs so she could scramble into the back seat. He was right after her, and he slammed the door shut behind them.
“Get down,” Slater told Sonya. “It’s too dangerous to try to drive out of here.”
Sonya made a quick sound of agreement and dropped down. Good thing, too, because the next shot finally weakened the side window and put a fist-sized hole through it.
Slater climbed on top of Lana, his front against her back so he could try to protect her. He knew she wouldn’t thank him for the move. She wouldn’t want him risking his life for hers, but Slater stayed put.
And waited.
He also lifted his head enough to try to see if the shooter was coming for them. One last-ditch effort to kill them before the cops arrived. But he didn’t see anyone. Nor did he hear anything other than the sirens.
The shots had stopped.
Slater cursed, because that probably meant the shooter was trying to get away, but he intended to have Leonard, Taylor, Marsh and the assistant all tested for gunshot residue. If one of them had fired all these shots, then the test might prove it.
“Two SAPD cruisers,” Slater relayed to Sonya and Lana.
“I called them,” Sonya said, and he heard her make a call, no doubt to fill the responding officers in on the situation.
The cops in the cruisers didn’t drive toward the house. They stayed at the gate, maybe waiting until Sonya had given them a picture of what had happened. And what could possibly happen if the shooter started firing again.
“Unknown number of people inside the house,” Sonya said, responding to a question she’d been asked. “But, yes, the owner, Leonard Walsh, is here. Or rather he was. And, no, I don’t have eyes on him.” Sonya paused. “What?” she blurted. “You’re sure?”
That got Slater’s attention, and the alarm shot through him when Sonya looked at him. He could tell from her expression that something was wrong.
“It’s Taylor,” Sonya said. “She’s in her car. And she’s dead.”
L ANA SAT IN the interview room at SAPD headquarters and read through the statement she’d just given Detective Josh O’Malley about the shooting. Slater’s brother, Ruston, was there, standing with his back against the wall, but he hadn’t participated in the interview because it could have been construed as a conflict of interest.
Because of where the shooting had taken place, everything was being done by the book. Her father had a lot of political pull, and it was obvious no one here wanted that pull used against them. But even her father couldn’t stop himself from being interviewed.
And interrogated.
From what Slater and Ruston had said, Leonard had been treated just as anyone else in his position would have been. As a possible suspect or at least someone who might have key information. A woman had been murdered; the shooter had attempted to kill Lana and two cops.
That wasn’t going to be swept under the rug.
“This is accurate,” Lana said after reading the statement that she then signed. She figured Slater was doing something similar in the interview room across the hall. Now that they’d gotten the formality of the interview out of the way, she needed to see him. She needed to make sure he was truly okay.
They’d both been examined by EMTs, and their cuts and scrapes from the shrubs had been treated. Ditto for Sonya, who’d gotten nicked by some of the glass when it’d been shot out in the cruiser. But Lana knew none of their injuries were serious, which meant they’d gotten lucky.
Unlike Taylor.
As Lana, Slater and Sonya had been driven away from the estate in one of a patrol cars, she had gotten a glimpse of Taylor. The woman had been slumped against the steering wheel of her Jag, and she had a gunshot wound to the head. It hadn’t looked self-inflicted to Lana, and she would be surprised if it had been, because Taylor didn’t seem the type to take her own life.
“Can I get you some water or something to eat?” Detective O’Malley asked Lana as they stood.
She shook her head. Lana figured she should be hungry since she hadn’t eaten since lunch, but there was no way she wanted to try to eat. Not with her stomach still churning.
When O’Malley walked out, Ruston went to her, and maybe because she looked ready to collapse, he put his arm around her and led her out of the room. Thankfully, Slater was right there, waiting, and Lana went to him, slipping right into his welcoming embrace. He brushed a kiss on her forehead, and while it was such a simple gesture, it took away some of the ice that had seemingly seeped all the way to her bones.
Mercy, it was wrong to need Slater like this, but Lana couldn’t seem to stop herself. Maybe it was a combination of the intense attraction, the memories of that kiss, grief over her sister’s murder and the spent adrenaline from coming so close to dying. If that was it, then it was a potent blend that made her want to hold on to him and never let go.
“Did everything go okay in there?” Slater asked his brother.
Ruston nodded but didn’t get a chance to add anything before his phone rang. “I need to take this,” he said, stepping away from them.
Lana eased back enough so she could look up at Slater. “What updates do you have?” Because she knew he’d been communicating with both Duncan and Detective Thayer in Austin. Communicating with the cops here, too, since so many of them knew him through his brother.
“Taylor was murdered,” Slater said after he drew in a long breath. “The shot that killed her came from the window on the passenger side of her car.”
Lana considered that for a moment, thinking of the placement of trees and shrubs by the gate. It was possible her killer had been able to make that shot without Taylor even seeing him.
But who had killed her?
“They tested my gun,” Slater went on, “and the shot didn’t come from me.”
She hadn’t thought for a second that it had. Slater had fired into the trees, not in the direction of the gate.
“Did Taylor have a gun with her?” Lana wanted to know. “Could she have been the one who fired shots at us?” Though the logistics of that would be hard unless Taylor had shot at them and hurried back to her car, only to be killed there.
He shook his head. “No gun and no GSR on her. The CSIs will compare the bullet that killed her to any others the shooter might have left behind.”
“So, the theory is one gunman,” she concluded. “And Taylor could have been killed either at the beginning of the attack on us or at the end.”
“Either,” he confirmed. “And since the attack only lasted a couple of minutes, the ME probably won’t be able to pinpoint the exact time of the kill shot.”
A couple of minutes. It had felt like a lifetime or two with them pinned down and bullets flying.
“Marsh is up the hall giving his statement,” Slater went on. “But I heard him tell the detective that he heard the shots and hid so he wouldn’t be hit. He thought Taylor was shooting at him.”
That seemed reasonable since Taylor had threatened him. Well, it was reasonable unless Marsh was lying and had been the shooter.
“There wasn’t any GSR on Marsh,” Slater let her know before she had to ask. “Of course, he could have worn gloves and disposed of them somewhere on the grounds. The CSIs will look for that,” he added.
Good. But twenty acres was a lot to search, and Marsh could have hidden them in plenty of places. Places he was well aware of, since he was a frequent visitor to the estate.
“Your father is still in interview, too,” Slater went on. “He waited until his lawyers were here before he agreed to give his statement.”
“Did they test him for GSR?” Lana immediately wanted to know.
Slater’s mouth tightened. “Not yet. His lawyers are fighting it, claiming that Leonard is a victim, not the perpetrator.”
Lana huffed. “That could mean he’s guilty.” But she had to mentally wave that off. Her father was arrogant enough to believe he was above such measures of the law, and even if he was innocent, he likely would have refused any test.
“I’m hoping his lawyers won’t be able to stall forever,” Slater muttered, but there was enough doubt in his eyes to let her know that it could indeed be the outcome.
“What about my father’s assistant and the housekeepers?” Lana asked. “Is it possible one of them was the shooter?”
“They’re all being questioned, all being tested for GSR,” he assured her. “The estate does have security cameras, but your father said they weren’t on at the time, that he normally only has them on at night. Is that true?”
Lana had to shrug. “I know there are cameras, but he never gave anyone access to the control panel for the security system.” She paused. “You think it’s a coincidence that the cameras weren’t on during the shooting.”
“Maybe.” Slater groaned softly. “I don’t like coincidences, but maybe this is one.”
“True,” she admitted. “It doesn’t feel right that my father would orchestrate an attack at the estate. If he wanted to send someone after us, he could have done that on our drive back to Saddle Ridge.”
That wasn’t exactly a comforting thought, but it’s how she would have done it had she been a killer.
“Has my father said who he believes fired those shots?” Lana asked.
“He thinks it was Taylor and that she then killed herself.” Slater took another of those long breaths. “I suppose it’s possible if there was a second gunman who shot her and then took her weapon. He or she would have also had to wipe the GSR from her hands.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure there was enough time for a gunman to do that in between the shots being fired at us. Unless...”
“Unless there were two people involved in this.” She stopped, groaned. It was too much to think of having multiple killers after them.
“The CSIs are going through Taylor’s house as we speak,” Slater went on. “Ruston’s been getting regular updates and texting them to me. They’re already found two burners that were used to call Buck, and they’re focusing on finding other communications she might have had with him.”
“Burners,” Lana muttered, and she let the meaning of that sink in. The phones could be proof that Taylor was Buck’s accomplice. After all, if she simply wanted to talk to the man, she could have used her regular phone. “It was stupid of Taylor to leave those lying around.”
“Stupid or she was set up,” Slater said, spelling out exactly what Lana was thinking.
“It would tie up everything in a neat little bow if Taylor was the accomplice. She’s dead and can’t say otherwise.” And that led Lana to another thought. “If Buck’s real accomplice thinks he’s out of potential hot water, maybe he won’t come after us again. Maybe the attacks will stop.”
“Yes,” he murmured as if considering that. “No more attacks, but also maybe no answers about Alicia’s and my father’s murders. You might not ever be sure, too, of who worked with Buck to kill Stephanie.”
Again, that was all true, and while Lana desperately wanted the attacks to be over and done, she needed the truth, too. And she was certain Slater felt the same. Neither of them would just let this drop, and soon, Buck’s real accomplice would understand that and would no doubt once again try to kill them.
“We can go back to Saddle Ridge and regroup,” Slater said, once again answering her unspoken question. “We can look for proof of someone entering Taylor’s house to set her up.”
Yes, that would be a good place to start, especially since she figured they wouldn’t be getting any immediate answers from her father.
She turned to the sound of the approaching footsteps and saw Ruston making his way back toward them. He was still sporting the scowl that’d appeared on his face when he’d left to take a phone call.
“What’s wrong?” Slater immediately wanted to know.
“This,” Ruston said, holding up his phone so they could see the screen.
The image was clear enough, but Lana had to shake her head. “That’s my mother.”
“It is,” Ruston verified. “I gave your mother the codes to my security system in case she had to step out for some reason and told her to keep the system on when she was there so that I’d get an alert if someone tried to break in.”
That was a good precaution, one that Lana herself had suggested. That would prevent Ruston from having to personally check on her mother while he was at work.
“Your mother apparently did step out,” Ruston went on, “and I just got a call from my security company because she didn’t get the code punched back in time to prevent it from being triggered.”
Lana shook her head. “Why would my mother leave your apartment?”
“That’s something I think you’ll want to ask her.” Ruston motioned toward the time stamp of his mother’s return, and she saw that it was about fifteen minutes ago. Then Ruston shifted to another photo of her mother. “I had the security company go back through the feed, and this is a photo of Pamela leaving.”
Once again, he tapped the time stamp.
And Lana immediately realized why he was scowling. Because her mother had left the apartment over an hour before the shooting at the estate. That wasn’t all. The security camera had caught Pamela’s purse at just the right angle for Lana to see something else.
The gun that her mother was carrying.