Chapter 36
By the time Schaffer was finished questioning Annette, Carson had started to sweat. Each time she crossed or uncrossed her legs his entire body tensed when he should have been completely focused on the questions.
It didn’t help that Wainwright and Luttrell, along with Schaffer’s boss, had been in this booth with him for nearly two hours. Neither wanted him there, but Schaffer had overridden their protests.
Carson owed the lady big time. He was, frankly, a little stunned. Why would she protect him when her butt was on the line?
Special Agent in Charge Talley had kept his thoughts to himself. Carson was relatively certain the man had decided there was enough tension in the room without his interference.
Luttrell reached for the door at the same time as Carson.
The glare-off lasted a full five seconds.
“I suppose,” Luttrell mocked, “you’ll post her bail when she’s arraigned.”
Carson chuckled. “You’ll have to find enough evidence to charge her first.”
He walked out of the room. Didn’t spare any of the three men another glance. Maybe his career was over, but he wasn’t backing off until he had the truth.
The whole truth.
To do that he needed Annette Baxter. And Dane Drake.
Wainwright, sans Luttrell, caught up with Carson halfway to the elevators. “You’re throwing away everything,” he cautioned.
Carson stared for several seconds at the man he had trusted, had admired, before he responded.
For one of those seconds he considered that Wainwright was correct .
. . maybe Carson was throwing away all that he’d worked so hard to achieve.
“All I want is the truth.” He searched his mentor’s guarded gaze.
Until a few hours ago, Carson had never doubted this man .
. . but that had changed now. “Doesn’t that put us both on the same team? ”
Wainwright moved his head from side to side, that fatherly worry cluttering his expression. “You’re the last person on earth that I thought would fall for her ludicrous story.”
There had been a time when a part of Carson had desperately needed a father figure . . . he’d prized that aspect of his and Wainwright’s relationship. Not anymore. “What story is that?”
Wariness instantly replaced the worry. “Whatever that woman has told you is nothing but fabricated nonsense to cloud your perspective. You’ve read her file, you know what she’s capable of. I don’t think I need to spell it out.”
That was the moment Carson understood just how deep the lies went. Schaffer had been correct. Wainwright was hiding something. “You’re right. You don’t need to spell it out.” He clapped the man he’d once respected above all others on the shoulder. “When I’m done, I’ll have the whole truth.”
Carson walked away, didn’t look back until he’d reached the elevators where Annette waited. He glanced back once, long enough to see Luttrell and Wainwright huddled with Talley.
Annette didn’t speak until she and Carson were outside the building and headed for her car. She wheeled on him. “You told them, didn’t you?”
Carson was confused for a moment; the conversation with Wainwright was still reverberating in his head. Then he understood. “About the Anderson name?”
Fury radiated from her blue eyes. “No one knew! Only you.”
She got into her rented Jag before he could answer.
Shaking his head, he rounded the hood and climbed behind the wheel.
Apparently she was too angry to drive. He started the vehicle and turned to her.
“I didn’t tell them. I don’t know how they discovered your connection to that alias, but I had nothing to do with it.
Remember, I just found out. At the center.
Clearly, someone already knew, or your sister wouldn’t be a target. ”
That reminder seemed to calm her down or, at least, to shift her anger in another direction.
Carson considered the issue of the murder weapon. “You said you disposed of the weapon Dane used.”
“I did.” She stared forward. Wouldn’t look at him.
“And if the thirty-eight isn’t yours, that will come out.”
She turned and stared directly at him. “If they want it to be mine, it will be.”
She was right. There were ways. They would use slugs from the weapon in their possession and claim they had been retrieved from the victim. Almost anything was possible.
“I’m . . . sorry about your assistant,” he offered.
Annette closed her eyes for one long moment. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
He felt like a heel for asking, but the insanity surrounding this whole mess wouldn’t allow for too much tact. “Do you know anything about the stolen car?”
She moved her head slowly from side to side. “All I know is that I was in the Mountain Brook area last night and a dark sedan attempted to run me off the road.” Her gaze collided with his. “Then it disappeared.”
Carson considered the sedan that had nearly run him over and the one, possibly the same one, that had been following him. Black. Maybe a Crown Vic.
“Do you have any reason to believe your assistant would want to stop what we’re doing?” Jesus, could no one be trusted in this?
“All I know,” Annette said somberly, “is that we have one chance to prove the truth. We have to find Dane Drake before anyone else does.”
Carson agreed completely. “Where do we start?” His first thought would be to call Elizabeth. But that would only give away their intentions.
“With his friends,” Annette said. “In places you’ve never been.”
Annette provided the directions to Dane’s most recent address, the SoHo Building in Homewood.
The guy moved around like a gypsy. Six months ago his father had leased him an apartment in one of the better high-rises in downtown Birmingham.
According to Annette, Dane preferred the gutter to his daddy’s gift.
“If he’s not here,” Carson noted aloud, “I’ll talk to Elizabeth to see if she’s heard from him.
” That Dane had been missing from the scene of his father’s murder that morning nagged at Carson.
Why the hell wouldn’t the guy show up for his mother’s sake?
For his sister’s? Then again, he was likely terrified that his link to Zac’s murder would be discovered.
Carson damned sure intended to ask him the instant he found the bum.
But Carson knew Dane. No matter what Dane said under the influence, Carson couldn’t believe that he would hurt his family. Or his own family.
No way.
There had to be another explanation of how he came into possession of the wedding bands. And that explanation could be the first real lead in the case.
Once on the property, Annette led the way into and through the elegant lobby as if she’d been here many times before.
Considering Dane was one of her repeat clients, she likely had.
She paused at the elevator and pressed the call button.
When the doors slid open, they stepped inside and she selected floor four.
When Carson leaned against the far wall, Annette joined him there. Her subtle scent tugged at his senses. Made him want to lean in her direction.
His body reacted. All his powers of concentration were required to maintain a steady respiration rate.
The way she’d uncrossed and then crossed her legs during the interrogation kept rewinding and playing in his head.
The woman knew how to get to a man. Knew how to make him want her in a way he’d never wanted anyone before.
Despite the insanity going on all around him.
Despite the slow, steady destruction of his whole life.
He told himself that letting this thing between them get any further out of control would be a mistake . . . and still his body hardened at just being near her.
Bad idea.
The instant the elevator doors opened, he was out of there. At Dane’s door on the fourth floor, Carson banged repeatedly. Called the guy’s name. Nothing.
Annette tried the door. Locked.
Then she surprised Carson all over again. She removed a lockpick kit from her purse. Less than a minute later they were inside.
“Clever,” he commented drily. That was something he’d never taken the time to learn. Mainly because it was illegal.
“One of the perks of growing up with perverts and assholes. You learn many escape maneuvers.”
That she had been sexually abused as a child twisted in his gut. Made him wish there had been someone there to protect her.
Did she need protecting now?
There was a hell of a crazy notion. He’d never known a woman more capable of protecting herself.
But then, evading a homicide charge was a little more complicated. He expected Drake’s murder to be pinned on her as well.
Concentrate on the matter at hand, Carson. Everything was on the line right now.
Dane’s apartment was empty. They checked each room twice.
“Doesn’t look as if he’s been here in a few days.” Carson checked the fridge. The milk had gone out of date several days before.
“He disappears all the time,” Annette reminded him. “The last time we talked I told him to lay low for a while.”
Carson and Dane hadn’t kept in touch. He had no idea what the guy was up to or even where he lived.
If this was home, he didn’t eat or sleep here on a regular basis.
The place was a mess. Clothes tossed here and there on the floor. The walls were bare as were the shelves. Carson had checked the closet: more haphazardly stored clothing items. A couple of crumpled dollars on the dresser. And not much else.
“I have a few contacts I can reach out to,” Annette offered as they prepared to exit the apartment.
“I’ll give Elizabeth a call.” He hated to bother her with this on a day like today, but he needed to check on her and Patricia. It was the right thing to do. And finding Dane was their only hope of finding some answers.
“Be careful what you say to her,” Annette suggested. “I’m not so sure you should trust her.”
The woman had to be kidding. “Elizabeth would never do anything to hurt anyone.” He glanced at Annette as they entered the elevator once more. “Not even to protect her brother.”