Chapter Forty-Seven Margo Angelhart
Chapter Forty-Seven
Margo Angelhart
Teri Stockman didn’t answer her phone, and I wondered if Peter had already reached out to her. She didn’t like her ex-husband,
but he was the father of her children and she might have a tiny soft spot for him.
Cal, on the other hand, was brilliant. I knew I’d fallen for the right guy.
He hung up the phone and said, “According to Miller, Stockman has a girlfriend in Sedona. He doesn’t know where she lives
or works, but her name is Gina.”
“Gina in Sedona. That doesn’t help us.”
“Actually, it does.” He picked up his cell phone and a minute later had my sister Tess on speaker. “Tess, it’s Cal and Margo.
Peter Stockman has a girlfriend named Gina in Sedona. Can you find her?”
“Last name?”
“Don’t have one.”
“You ask for the impossible,” Tess said.
“Margo said you’re the best at research. Maybe someone who is connected to his social media?”
Jack and Luisa walked into the office. I put up my hand and motioned to Cal on the phone.
“I’m ahead of you,” Tess said with a laugh. “Okay, let’s see . . . Stockman has no Ginas or Reginas on his LinkedIn profile.
Oh. But . . . just a sec . . . I have one Sedona connection. Re-Energy IV, on Main Street.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“IV infusions, like rehydration.”
“That stuff is amazing,” Luisa said.
“Sounds miserable,” I commented. “Getting an IV inserted on purpose? Just, nope.”
“Got it!” Tess said. “Gina Younger, RN, works for Re-Energy. She’s very pretty. I’m sending you her page from the website.”
“You are amazing,” Cal told Tess. “Can you find her home address?”
“That might take a bit more time, but she has a large social media presence, so I’ll call you back.”
Tess ended the call.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“We call the police,” Jack said.
“Okay, fine, but a hitman is on his way to kill Stockman, and may have a head start. We need him alive.”
“I’ll call from the road.” Jack tossed his keys to Cal.
“Hey,” I said. “Why can’t I drive?”
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” Jack said.
“It’s not like I’m going to sleep now,” I grumbled. We locked up the office and climbed into Jack’s truck.
During the hour-plus drive to Sedona, Jack called the detective in charge of the Roger Maddox shooting, but it wasn’t someone he personally knew and it took him far too long to convince the guy that they had a viable lead on Peter Stockman’s location.
The detective finally said he would contact the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office and give them the information.
“I should have called them myself,” Jack grumbled.
“When we get her exact location, we’ll call,” Cal said.
“You call, you still have a badge.”
I glanced at my brother. He hadn’t expressed dissatisfaction that he wasn’t a cop anymore, at least not recently. I wondered
if it bothered him.
“When this is all over,” I said, “you could always rejoin Phoenix PD.”
Jack glanced at me from the back seat. “Why would I do that?”
“Do you miss being a cop?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I like what we do. I like the flexibility to make my own hours and the variety of assignments.
And less paperwork,” he added with a small smile.
I called Tess when we crossed into Sedona city limits. “We’re here. We need an address.”
“I don’t have one,” she snapped. “She probably rents, because I can’t find that she’s a homeowner. Re-Energy is open. Maybe
you can sweet-talk your way into an address. On second thought, have Cal do it.”
She ended the call.
“I’m insulted,” I said.
Cal grinned. “I have the badge, I’ll get the address.”
Five minutes later they pulled up in front of the Re-Energy storefront. Cal went inside; less than three minutes later he
returned and handed me a sticky note with an address.
“That was fast.”
“I have charm and a badge,” Cal said with a grin. “Navigate?”
I typed the address into my phone. It was a nice house at the base of a mountain, elevated with views. “If this is a rental, it must cost a small fortune. Who knew there was so much money in IV rehydration?”
Luisa scoffed. “Or Peter Stockman is paying for it.”
“Good point,” I agreed.
Cal drove slowly by the property. It was a two-story cabin set far back from the road and surrounded by trees and boulders.
A wide deck had views of the valley below. Really nice place. And here, in Sedona, it was certainly pricy.
Peter’s vehicle was nowhere in sight. It could be in the attached garage.
Cal drove to the end of the cul-de-sac at the top of the mountain, then turned and headed back down.
“What’s the plan?” he asked.
“He’s armed and dangerous,” Jack said. “Call the sheriff, see if the detective already called it in. Give them the address.
We sit and watch, make sure the hit man doesn’t get here first.”
Cal parked across the street, but fifty yards up, so we could see anyone who approached without being obvious. Cal called
the sheriff’s office. The conversation didn’t sound all that friendly, though he gave them a detailed recounting of what had
happened and the potential threat, including the girlfriend who might be in danger. When he hung up he said, “They’re going
to send a patrol. I don’t have an ETA.”
“We can’t see the back of the house,” Luisa said. “If I were a hit man, that’s how I would come in. Easy enough from the mountain,
and easy to disappear if things go sideways.”
“Agreed,” Jack said. “Lu and I will cut around to the back and keep watch from there. If anyone suspicious approaches, I’ll
alert you.” He put an earbud in and said, “I set my phone to walkie-talkie mode.”
I did the same thing.
“Likewise,” I told him.
Jack and Luisa slipped out of the back seat and ran across the street, soon disappearing from view.
Cal grew increasingly tense the more time that passed.
“I don’t know why the sheriff’s office seemed so uninterested,” Cal said after a few minutes.
“A lot of what-ifs and maybes.”
Jack’s voice came over my phone. “White male, six feet, one-eighty, coming off the mountain. Black tactical pants, army-green
shirt. No visible weapon, but he’s heading straight for the rear of the house.”
“Where are you? Can you apprehend him?” I asked.
“Negative. We’re up the slope, he came in from the south, had camouflage so we didn’t see him until he was close to the house.”
“We’ll enter through the front. You take the rear.”
“Roger that.”
Cal and I got out of the truck and jogged across the street. We ran up the stairs as silently as possible. I said quietly,
“You knock, Peter might not know who you are.”
Cal knocked. At first there was no answer. He knocked louder. “Gina? It’s Cal, your neighbor? I know you’re home, and this
is important.”
Cal your neighbor? I mouthed.
He shrugged.
There was movement in the house. A woman came to the door. She was even more beautiful than her picture on the website, with
long dark hair, big brown eyes, and flawless skin.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Cal flashed his badge. “Cal Rafferty, DEA, you’re in immediate danger. Please exit the house.”
“What?”
“We know you’re harboring a fugitive, and there’s a hired hit man approaching from the rear. You need to get to safety. Now.”
Her eyes widened and she glanced behind her.
I stepped into view. “Is Peter here?”
“How do you know?”
That was all the answer I needed.
“Where is he?” I demanded as I pulled my gun from my holster.
Cal did the same. That’s when she ran out of the house without the decency to tell us where her boyfriend was holed up.
“We need him alive,” I reminded Cal.
In my ear, I heard Jack. “He’s coming in the back, through a door on the ground floor. We’re ninety seconds behind him.”
“We’re in the living room,” I said quietly. The ground floor was below us.
The cabin wasn’t large, but it was very nice and well laid out. The living room opened into the dining room and kitchen. A
staircase to the right went up, and to the left went down.
Cal motioned for me to go up, and he trained his gun on the down staircase as he quickly walked around to the other side of
the half wall to provide himself some cover.
I glanced toward the down staircase and didn’t see anyone, so headed up the staircase to the right.
“Gina, I really need more pain meds. Please, baby.”
The whiny bastard was calling from a room to the left of the staircase. The door was partly open.
I peered in to get a lay of the land, but without exposing myself.
Peter Stockman was in a king-size bed, propped up with pillows, no shirt on. A bandage wrapped around his upper arm and shoulder,
a small amount of blood had seeped through.
A gun rested on the nightstand. It was within his reach, but he’d have to move quickly to get it. He didn’t look like he was in any position to move fast.
I heard grunts and something crash downstairs. My heart thudded as I thought of Cal and Jack and Luisa. I trusted them; they
all were well-trained. But I still worried.
As soon as Peter heard the crash his eyes opened and he glanced at his gun. He made a move toward it, but I pushed open the
door, my gun aimed at his chest. “Don’t move or you’re dead.”
He stared at me and scowled. “Fuck,” he said.
He glanced again at the gun on the nightstand.
“Sal Marconi sent a hit man after you,” I told him. “I can leave and let him have at you.”
Another crash had my heart racing faster. Dammit, was I going to have to protect this asshole?
Yes, yes I was. Because he had the answers we needed.
“Don’t let him kill me,” Peter said. “I have money. I’ll pay you.”
Money, I thought in disgust. Klein’s death, Dad’s imprisonment, Liz’s murder all came down to greed. “I want the truth.”
“It was all Mildred’s plan. Everything. I didn’t do anything.”
Again, he looked at his gun.
I slowly approached, keeping my eyes on his, waiting for him to make a move.
And dammit, he did.
He leaned over and his fingers were inches from the gun. But I was faster. I kicked over the nightstand and the gun fell out
of his range.
“You are truly an ass,” I said.
He tried to get up, but his sudden movement had ripped open his wound and blood soaked through his bandage. Looking both dizzy
and angry, he staggered, then fell to his knees on the floor.
I pushed him down and put my boot firmly on his bare back, my gun now trained at the door.
I heard someone running up the stairs.
“Margo!”
It was Cal.
“In here!” I called.
He came through the door, gun drawn. “Where’s Stockman?”
I pushed the heel of my boot into his back and he yelped.
Cal smiled and relaxed.
“Do you have handcuffs?” I asked.
“Always,” he said.
“What happened down there?” I asked as he cuffed Peter Stockman, who was talking nonsense, proclaiming his innocence. I ignored
him.
“The hit man saw me and ran back downstairs. Tripped and fell. I think he broke his arm. Jack and Luisa have him under control.”
We heard sirens.
“I think I need a vacation,” Cal said. “Want to join me?”
“I’ll go anywhere with you when my dad is out of prison. Deal?”
He grinned. “Deal.”