Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Once he had checked Brenda’s home when they arrived and left the listening devices necessary for keeping him apprised of whatever was happening inside, he’d come home.
Made a show of turning on lights and the television.
He’d grabbed a washcloth and tucked it into his back pocket just in case.
Then he had slipped out a window on the side of his house that was blocked from view of the street by a neighbor’s side gate and rear privacy fence.
He’d eased along the mature shrubs and trees, using them for cover until he was at Brenda’s picket fence.
Stepping over the short fence was simple enough, then he’d embedded himself in her landscape and waited.
He hadn’t needed to wait long. Mallory showed up only fifteen or so minutes after his settling into position. She had driven into the alley, headlights off, and parked behind Brenda’s garage. She and Janey had emerged from the car and gone to the back door. He had spotted no one else arriving.
He eased from his hiding place and started for the back door.
The nudge of something cold and hard against the back of his skull stopped him. “I was wondering where you were. Hands up, Mr. PI.”
He recognized the voice. Ginger York.
She patted him down thoroughly. She hummed a note of surprise. “First PI I ever met who doesn’t carry a gun.”
“I didn’t notice your arrival,” he said when she nudged him in the back with her weapon.
“That’s because I was here hours before the two of you came back. Crouched between those damned hydrangeas. But I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to appear the way you did—emerging from those crepe myrtles.” She nudged him again. “Now start walking. We’re going inside through the back door.”
He moved forward.
She made another of those surprised sounds. “Really, I can’t believe I didn’t hear you come out of your house and climb over the fence. You must be half cat.”
“Just practice,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder at the blonde. “It’s the same with weapons.”
She made a face. “What the hell does that mean?”
“If,” he explained, then he abruptly ducked and swung around, slamming his right shoulder into her midsection.
The weapon flew from her hand before she could squeeze the trigger.
The impact of his body took her to the ground.
One hand came down over her mouth, his legs on either side of her body, pinning her to the ground.
He yanked the washcloth from his back pocket and stuffed it into her mouth.
She bit him and he winced.
“If,” he repeated as he flipped her onto her stomach, “you know how to use your body you don’t always need a weapon.”
He unfastened his belt, slid it from the loops of his jeans and used it to secure her hands behind her back.
He helped her to a standing position. His fingers coiled in her hair, he pushed her toward the street.
Once he was at his car, he popped the trunk and pushed her inside.
She kicked at him, but he managed to close the lid.
Then she started kicking it. But getting out of there wouldn’t be so easy.
He hurried back around the house. He picked up the weapon Ginger had fumbled and checked the magazine.
In his earpiece the conversation between Mallory and Brenda was ongoing.
Sounded as if Brenda had led her to the bathroom to retrieve the hidden list from beneath that fern.
He needed one or the other to keep talking so he could get a feel for their location.
Moving silently, he entered the house.
Brenda picked up the fern and retrieved the plastic bag that contained the list Scott had made. She handed it to Mallory. “This is it.”
“Open it up. I want to see.”
She set the fern aside then, taking care not to damage the paper. Brenda tugged the folded half page from the bag and very carefully unfolded it. Since this had already been done once, it opened fairly easily. She passed the paper to Mallory.
The gun pointed at her made Brenda flinch each time she looked at it. She reached down and smoothed Janey’s hair. She hoped her baby wouldn’t get upset. So far she just wanted to hang on to her mommy’s legs. No crying. No asking questions.
Just let us get through this.
A grin slid across Mallory’s face. “I guess we have a deal.” She used the gun to motion for Brenda to go out of the room. “Back to the kitchen,” she ordered.
With Janey still attached to her leg, Brenda walked out of the bathroom and along the hall toward the living room. All those framed photos of her baby made her heart ache. Just let us survive this.
Mallory, her gun aimed at Brenda’s head, stayed right behind them.
As soon as Brenda and Janey rounded the corner into the kitchen they were shoved aside, and an explosion fractured the silence.
Brenda scrambled up against the island, Janey wrapped in her arms.
Ben had Mallory face down on the floor. There was a hole in the ceiling where her weapon had fired, and Mallory was shouting that she was going to kill him, but her gun was nowhere to be seen.
Brenda held tightly to Janey. Was it over?
5:30 a.m.
Janey was asleep. Finally.
Brenda really should tuck her into her bed, but she couldn’t bear the idea of being even inches from her. Rather, she held her baby in her lap. She sat on the sofa, a throw wrapped around her child.
Exhaustion had started tugging harder at Brenda, but she could not go to sleep until this was done.
The front door opened, and Ben walked in. “They’re taking them now.”
He took Janey into his arms so Brenda could go onto the porch to watch the police haul Mallory and Ginger away.
As the first Huntsville PD cruiser pulled away from the curb, Mallory twisted around to stare at her from the back seat.
Brenda stared back at her, hoped she never saw the light of day again.
Then the second cruiser rolled away. But Ginger didn’t turn around and look.
She stared forward. She was hoping for a deal by spilling her guts on her friend.
Detective Shelton came to the bottom of the steps. “I believe we’re done here, Ms. Devers.”
The FBI agent’s sedan pulled away just then, following the parade of police cars.
Brenda drew in a deep breath. “I’m glad.”
Shelton laughed. “I’m sure you are.” He gave her a little salute before turning and walking away.
Brenda went back inside and closed the door. She locked it and then announced, “I think we can put Janey to bed now.”
It was time to try to get their lives back in some sort of order. To put the past behind them and to move on.
Ben carried Janey to her room. Brenda drew back the covers and he tucked the sleeping child in.
Weak with relief, she wandered back to the living room. Ben trailed close behind her. She dropped onto the sofa. She was too tired to even consider having a conversation while standing. She couldn’t even remember when she’d last slept.
“Once Shelton told Mallory that Ginger was spilling her guts to the FBI agent,” he explained, “she confessed. She killed Cummings but she swears that Ginger killed Scott. The police will have to sort out the discrepancies.”
“As long as Janey and I don’t have to be involved,” Brenda allowed, “I’ll be happy.”
“I don’t see any reason your testimony would be needed. Those two are going to rat out each other well enough, I think.”
Brenda felt fairly clear enough on all that had happened.
Scott and Tate had made a mistake and gotten involved with the cartel.
But what Scott didn’t tell Tate was that he had already been skimming accounts.
Once he realized he was in trouble, he went to the FBI and tried to blame the whole situation on Tate.
Only the agent he spoke to was not an FBI agent, it was whoever Cummings turned out to be—ultimately a part of the cartel hierarchy.
The FBI handler, Clinton Pratt, was actually an FBI agent.
This one Tate had called in. Scott might have gotten away with his long-running bad deeds had he not decided to get greedy and steal funds from one of the cartel accounts.
At least he’d suffered a moment of guilt and called the Colby Agency for Brenda and Janey.
Mallory had been put in place to keep an eye on Scott.
Ginger had been having an affair with Tate, doing the same—watching Tate.
Except Scott didn’t die in the explosion the way he was supposed to.
What Brenda saw at LAX was Ginger retrieving Scott, but not for the cartel—for the little plan she and Mallory had come up with.
The two made sure the timing was just right for trying to unsettle Brenda—to make her lose trust in herself and in her husband’s intentions for his family.
The two weren’t happy Scott had reached out to the Colby Agency.
As for the cartel, they didn’t care what Mallory and Ginger did as long as they got their money.
The two faithful hirelings were welcome to the remaining spoils.
“We have every reason to believe the cartel has no desire to bother you and Janey,” Ben explained.
“To them, the rest was irrelevant. I think the only people who need to worry about the cartel are Mallory and Ginger if either of them chooses to bring up their employer. But they won’t do that if they want to live. ”
Brenda wished she could drum up some sympathy for Mallory but that was not happening.
“So it’s really over?”
Ben nodded. “We believe so.”
An unexpected disappointment nudged her.
She wasn’t ready for whatever was happening between them to be over.
But Ben had been here doing a job. She, of all people, understood that situations like this could get personal.
She wrote about it, after all. She could hardly expect him to still have those same feelings now that the nightmare was over.
“I guess you’ll be leaving then.” Just saying the words was like inviting an elephant to sit on her chest.
“Soon. Yes,” he agreed.
There it was. He was going. Oh well. She didn’t write romance novels, and perhaps this was why—sometimes there just weren’t any happy endings to be found.
“I was wondering,” Ben said, “if you and Janey might want to get away for a couple of weeks or months. Just until things settle down here and everything has worked itself out. Otherwise, there will be reporters hounding you. The stories in the papers and on social media will draw all the true crime fans right to your door. You might be more comfortable taking some time away.”
She smiled. “You’ve given this a great deal of thought.”
“I have.” He searched her face, hope in his eyes.
“It’s really a good idea.” Having Janey back was all that had been on her mind until a few hours ago. “The trouble is I have no idea where we would go.”
“I think I know just the place,” he offered. “I have this great house in the suburbs of Chicago. There’s a big yard. The former owners had children so there’s a really cool outdoor playset.”
Hope soared in her chest, and her smile came back wider than before. “Are you inviting us to your home?”
“Yes. If you and Janey would like, I would love for you to spend some time with me. I have way too much unused vacation time.”
Brenda stood. “I don’t know what to say.”
Ben pushed to his feet and took a step in her direction. “Say whatever you feel.”
Her lips trembled with the emotions whirling inside her now. “I feel like spending time with you. I feel like getting to know you better.”
He took another step toward her. “Then just say yes.”
“Yes.”
The final step between them disappeared, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Tenderly, deeply.
Brenda couldn’t wait to start her and Janey’s new beginning.