Bounty Hunter Honor Read online

  “Just yesterday you were afraid of her.”

  “Wary, not afraid. Anyway, she’s a big puppy.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you saw her attack.”

  They headed for a Whataburger, where Craig had agreed to meet them. He hadn’t arrived yet, so Rex got them some breakfast. Nadia’s appetite had improved, and she downed an egg-and-cheese burrito and orange juice with no problem. She seemed far stronger than yesterday. Seeing her daughter’s face had bolstered her confidence in Rex.

  God, he hoped her faith wasn’t misplaced.

  “So tell me about this cop we’re meeting,” Nadia said as she cleaned up the debris from their meal. She scrubbed the table with a paper napkin, threw everything in the trash, then cleaned her hands with antibacterial gel from her purse.

  “His name’s Craig Cartwright,” Rex answered. “He used to be Beau’s partner. Basically, he’s the only cop on the entire Payton police force that any of us trust. He’s surrounded by incompetence at best and corruption at worst, but somehow he manages to keep himself separate from the garbage and politics and just do his job.”

  “So he’s a detective?”

  “You can ask him yourself. That’s him, coming through the door.”

  Nadia turned to look, and Rex could tell the scien tific observer in her was studying him, seeing if she could figure him out just by his appearance.

  Rex had to hand it to Craig, he didn’t look like a cop. Though detectives in Payton were supposed to wear ties, Craig seldom did unless he had to. He kept what he called his “throw-down tie” in his pocket. If he spotted someone who would care, he could quickly put it on. But most of the time, like today, he wandered around in an open-collar shirt, khakis and cowboy boots. His hair was longer than regulation, too, dark blond and almost curly—the kind women wanted to touch. With his tall, rangy build, lean face and matinee-idol eyes, he never lacked for female companionship. The narrow scar that ran from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth—acquired in a knife fight when he was a teenager—only added to his mystique.

  Or that was what Lori said. Rex’s sister had a crush on Craig, but she would walk barefoot on hot coals before admitting it.

  Craig’s gaze roved among the tables until it settled on Rex and Nadia. He nodded at Rex and ambled over. He never seemed in a hurry, but Rex knew the guy could move fast when he had to.

  Always the ladies’ man, he went straight for Nadia and stuck out his hand. “Craig Cartwright.”

  “Nadia Penn,” she said, grasping his hand and squeezing it briefly. “Thank you for meeting with us. I assume Rex told you what was going on?”

  “Actually, I left that for you,” Rex said. He would let Nadia tell as much or as little as she felt comfortable with.

  Craig pulled up a chair, and Nadia succinctly encap sulated the events of the last couple of days. “Rex tells me you’re a detective,” she said, as if interviewing a prospective employee. “What kinds of cases do you investigate?”

  “I’m on the major crimes squad. Rape, murder, kidnapping, armed robbery. I understand you have some evidence you want me to have analyzed on the QT?”

  “Is that okay?” Nadia asked. “You understand why I don’t want it to be official, right? I don’t want to be paranoid, but Peter may have friends on the force who would tell him if the police initiated an official investigation into Lily’s kidnapping.”

  “I understand, and it’s okay. What do you have?”

  “A videotape,” Rex answered. He drained the last of his coffee. “It’s time-stamped, but I don’t know how accurate the camera’s internal clock might have been. But there’s a clock in the background of the video—maybe you can enhance the picture and we can nail down the time.”

  “Why is the exact time important?” Craig wanted to know.

  Rex was slightly hesitant to voice his theory. This type of analysis wasn’t his specialty. He was trained to lie, to wait, to shoot—not to put together puzzle pieces. But he had noticed something in the video that he thought might be useful.

  “The video was taken in a living room of some kind, and there’s a window,” he finally said after deciding it made no sense for him to hold back. Craig would tell him if he was off base. “I noticed the sound of an emergency siren in the background noise—and the very slightest reflection from a flashing red light on the window curtains.”

  “Really?” Nadia said. “I didn’t even catch that.”

  “I imagine you were more focused on watching Lily. But here’s the deal. If we could nail down the exact time the video was shot, then compared it to when various emergency vehicles were dispatched, maybe we could narrow down the location.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea!” Nadia turned to Craig. “Is it possible? Or are there too many police cars and fire trucks running around the city at any given time?” That was exactly the concern Rex had, but Craig was nodding.

  “It might be possible,” he said. “Let’s go to the lab and see what we can come up with. Then I can check with dispatch.”

  THE PAYTON POLICE shared a crime lab with the county sheriff’s department, and it didn’t look very impressive from the outside. The one-story cinder-block building sat on an obscure street in a mostly industrial area of downtown Payton, and it bore no sign to identify its function.

  Craig Cartwright took Rex and Nadia through a side door and into a dingy corridor with yellowed linoleum floors and dull gray walls. So far, Nadia wasn’t terribly impressed.

  “I’ve never even been in here before,” Rex said. “What kinds of testing can you do here?”

  “You’d be surprised. Fingerprints, of course. Ballistics. Trace evidence analysis—hairs, fibers, stains, glass, paint.”

  “DNA?” Nadia asked.

  “Not yet. We still have to send our samples to the state crime lab in Dallas. And the medical examiner does all the other biological stuff—they get all the tissue samples from autopsies. But we have some pretty sophisticated equipment for all the other stuff.”

  He paused in front of a door with a plaque that read Photographic Analysis and turned the handle.

  Inside the room, which looked more like a laboratory, it was clean and bright, appearing almost sanitary. Now this was an atmosphere Nadia could understand, and she relaxed slightly. She could trust people who worked in a place like this.

  A plump woman in a green sweater and black slacks sat in front of a huge video monitor. On the monitor was what appeared to be a convenience store surveillance tape, which she was examining frame by frame.

  Craig paused a moment to watch her work, and Rex and Nadia stood at a respectful distance. She appeared to be totally engrossed in her task.

  “Angie?” Craig said softly.

  The woman jumped and turned, then smiled. “Craig. You scared me half to death.”

  “We made plenty of noise when we came in.”

  “You know how I get, though. This is from the QuikkyStore robbery last night. The guy has a tattoo on the side of his neck. I think I can bring it up.”

  “On his neck?” Craig repeated. “Does it look like a dragon?”

  Angie peered at the screen. “Yeah, it could be.”

  Craig looked over her shoulder. “Oh, hell, that’s exactly what it is. The perp is Sawyer Lazzaro. I’ve arrested that guy so many times I could recognize him easier than I could my own brother.”

  Angie smiled. “Thanks, Craig. You just made my day.”

  “Then you won’t mind doing me a favor?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  Nadia smiled inwardly. Maybe because of last night she was hyperaware of the hormonal fluctuations around her, but it was clear to her that Angie had a little thing for Craig despite the fact she wore a wedding ring.

  Craig made hasty introductions. “Angie is brilliant,” he said, and she beamed. “She can take the crappiest video you ever saw and pull up a gnat’s eyelashes.” He handed Angie the tape they’d received from Peter.

  They watched it all the w
ay through first while Craig explained Rex’s theory about the time and the siren and flashing light. Though it was hard for her, Nadia focused this time on the ambient noises and the other things going on around her daughter. Sure enough, there was the very faint sound of a siren and the ghost of a flashing red light on the curtain. There was also a small, digital clock sitting on a lamp table by the sofa.

  Angie froze on a frame at random. It didn’t matter which one she chose, since the camera hadn’t moved and the clock was in all of them. Then she blew it up to about a hundred times its original size. She pushed various buttons, which she explained were used to filter out certain hues or sharpen the edges. It only took her about five minutes to manipulate the image enough that they could read the time on the clock—11:58.

  “That’s within a minute of the time stamp,” Rex said. “So it should be pretty accurate.”

  Just then the door to the lab opened and a man walked in—well, walked was an understatement. He strutted. His neatly pressed suit, blinding white shirt and silk tie could only distract the eye so far, though—he wasn’t handsome to Nadia no matter how much of a stud he thought he was. With his red hair and freckles, he reminded her of that guy on the cover of Mad Magazine.

  A collective groan, quiet but unmistakable, rose from Rex, Craig and Angie. “Oh, hell,” Craig muttered.

  “Of all people to show up,” Rex added under his breath.

  “Angie, did you find anything?” the newcomer asked, never breaking stride. It took him a moment to realize there were other people in the room. Then he skidded to a stop, focusing on Rex. “What the hell are you doing in here? Angie, you know civilians aren’t allowed in the lab.” He said “civilians” in the same tone of voice he might reserve for “serial killers.”

  “I brought them in,” Craig said. “They’re witnesses.”

  “I have an ID on your QuikkyStore robber,” Angie said quickly, distracting the redheaded man. “Sawyer Lazzaro is a repeat offender who has a similar tattoo to the one on your robber’s neck.”

  “Lemme see.”

  Angie turned off the video machine. “This is Craig’s case. I’m already done with yours. I just e-mailed you a blowup of the tattoo.”

  The man looked skeptical. “How’d you know it was this Sawyer person?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve seen him before.”

  “Would you be willing to testify to that in court? That you recognize him?”

  “I recognize the tattoo,” she clarified, lying through her teeth based on Craig’s say-so. Nadia wondered why Craig didn’t just own up to the fact he was the one who’d made the connection. “Just compare the blowup to his mug shot, and you won’t need me to point out the similarity.”

  “We’ll see.” The man turned on his heel and left. No thank-you, nothing.

  “Who was that rude man?” Nadia asked, and the other three laughed.

  “His name’s Lyle Palmer,” Rex explained. “The most abrasive, obnoxious detective on the Payton force.”

  “Don’t forget incompetent,” Angie added. “I’m so sure this case will go to trial and I’ll have to testify.”

  “Why wouldn’t it?” Nadia asked.

  “Because Lazzaro will plead out,” said Craig. “Our district attorney never goes to trial unless it’s a high-profile case that will look good on his résumé. If Lazzaro has any kind of decent attorney, he’ll spend about six months in jail and be back out.”

  “For a chronic offender doing armed robbery?” Nadia was horrified. “If we ever catch Peter, what will happen to him? A slap on the wrist? Community service?”

  “Don’t worry,” Rex said soothingly. “Peter will get in state or federal court. That’s a different ball game.”

  Nadia was only slightly reassured. No wonder Payton’s crime rate had skyrocketed in recent years. “I didn’t vote for that guy,” she said, referring to the D.A.

  “I’ve never met anybody who did,” Rex grumbled. “I think the election was fixed.”

  Angie was able to glean more useful information from the video. “The siren is from a fire-department am bulance,” she said. “Not a ladder truck or police car. The sirens are distinctive. Also, the vehicle was moving left to right, which might tell you which side of the street the house is on.”

  “You are excellent, Angie.” Craig gave her shoulders a squeeze and she blushed profusely. “I owe you lunch.”

  “Make it dinner,” Angie shot back. “But don’t think you can have your wicked way with me.”

  REX AND NADIA took Sophie out for a quick walk in the parking lot while Craig used his cell phone to call the Dispatch supervisor. Judging from the sound of his voice, he was flirting with her as he’d done with Angie. That was standard procedure with Craig—he couldn’t talk to a woman without flirting, even if she’d been married for fifty years and wore support hose.

  “What’s his story?” Nadia asked softly. “Married? Confirmed bachelor?”

  “Divorced,” Rex answered. “Two preteen girls he sees on weekends. From what Beau tells me, his wife was the one who left. Fell in love with someone else. He was a dedicated family man before it happened. Still totally stuck on his kids.”

  “So, is he shopping for a replacement wife?”

  “You mean because he flirts? I don’t think so. That’s just his way. He loves women. Why, are you interested?” He felt an irrational prickling of jealousy at the thought.

  She sighed with exasperation. “You know I’m not. Just curious. He is very charming. How’d he get the scar?”

  “He says he was in a knife fight when he was a kid. Personally, I think the real story is something more mundane and he doesn’t want to admit it.”

  By the time Sophie was done with her business, Craig was off the phone. “We’re in luck. There was only one fire station ambulance dispatched anywhere near midnight last night.” He consulted the small notebook he’d been writing in. “It left from the Pillar Street Station at 11:55, drove south along Dupree Street to a house in the 4800 block, where it arrived at its destination at 12:01. The ambulance didn’t have its lights and siren on during the return trip.”

  Rex felt a sense of elation, his first real hope that they were close to nailing Peter Danilov. “So our target house will be about halfway between the Pillar Street Station and the 4800 block of Dupree.”

  Rex had a GPS navigation device in his car, so they all piled inside and watched while Rex brought up the appropriate map and plotted out the midpoint of the ambulance’s route.

  “I know that neighborhood,” Nadia said. “My grandmother lived just a few blocks away. It’s where a lot of Russian and Eastern Europe immigrants settled.”

  “That would make sense, if Peter’s really connected to the Russian Mafia.”

  “Russian Mafia?” Craig gave a low whistle. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “We don’t know for sure,” Rex said. “But Nadia says he’s loyal to the motherland and hates America, so that makes him dangerous.”

  “What is it he wants so bad?” Craig asked. The question was perfectly innocent. Nadia had skated around that part of the story since it didn’t have a bearing on what they needed from Craig. Now the car fell silent.

  It was still a sore point with Rex that Nadia wouldn’t tell him what she had that Peter wanted so badly. At one time he’d had a pretty damn high security clearance. He was risking his life for her. It would be nice if he knew what was truly at stake besides Lily.

  “What did I say?” Craig asked.

  “I can’t tell you what it is Peter wants,” Nadia said apologetically, “only that it’s a matter of national security—and I won’t give it to him.”

  “Ah.” Craig nodded, seemingly unbothered by the secrecy. “So, what’s next? And do you need any help? I’m off the next couple of days.”

  “How about a door-to-door search along Dupree Street?” Nadia suggested.

  “Peter isn’t just going to answer the door to any yahoo who rings the bell,” Rex counter
ed. “All we would do is alert him to the fact we’re closing in.”

  Nadia shivered. “The last thing we want to do is panic him.”

  “I was thinking surveillance,” Rex said. “When we can narrow down the exact house he’s in, we can orchestrate an extraction.”

  “Ugh, I think I just remembered I’m busy,” Craig said. “I hate surveillance. And if anyone asks, I never heard anything about an ‘extraction.’”

  “That’s okay, you don’t have to help out on this one,” Rex said easily. “Beau and Gavin are both in town this week. And Lori. We can use her Peepmobile.” He watched Craig carefully from the corner of his eye. Sure enough, Craig’s interest was cranked up a notch at the mention of Lori’s name.

  “Ah, hell, you can count me in,” Craig said nonchalantly.

  “I like my idea better,” Nadia said. “Just sitting and watching doesn’t sound very proactive to me.”

  “Patience pays off in this business,” Rex reminded her. “I don’t think you should be seen anywhere near Peter’s hideaway, though. If he spots you, it’ll all be over.”

  He could tell Nadia didn’t want to agree. She wanted to be part of the operation. But in this case, he was right and she knew it. “What will I do, then? I can’t go back home—he’s watching.”

  “You can stay with Lori,” Rex said. “If we give her the job of protecting you, maybe she won’t want to come along with us.”

  “Why wouldn’t you want her to do the surveillance with you?” Nadia wanted to know. “She seems more than competent to me.”

  “She can partner with me,” Craig offered hopefully. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Rex attempted to put it diplomatically to Nadia. “It’s still early in her training. We’re afraid she’ll get hurt.”

  “Huh.” Nadia folded her arms and settled into the back seat of the Subaru with Sophie. “I think you’re a couple of sexist pigs, that’s what I think.”