Dark of the Night Page 18

  Chapter 16

  “THESE ARE THE files that were in Larsen’s office.” Roger Danvers waved a hand toward the boxes stacked on a table. “Unfortunately, he had some at home, and those were incinerated with the rest of the house.”

  “Don’t you have copies?” Jake frowned at the stack of boxes.

  Roger shook his head. “Nope. They were the originals. You could probably piece the files together using other sources, but that’d take more effort than the things were worth.”

  Riley walked over to the table and lifted a lid. A cloud of dust accompanied the motion and she coughed.

  Roger laughed ruefully. “Cutbacks in housekeeping. You folks going to be okay?”

  Jake nodded, his mind already on the task ahead. “Thanks for doing this, Roger.”

  “Not a problem. Just don’t tell anyone it was me, okay?” He lifted a hand and walked back into the hallway.

  “I take it we’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Well, technically these records belong to the people of Fulton County. And since we’re taxpaying residents, we have the right to see this stuff.”

  “But . . .”

  He grinned. “There are a heck of a lot of forms to fill out and red tape to finesse in order to actually do that. Having Roger’s help saves us a lot of time and aggravation, believe me.”

  “And Roger is?”

  “An assistant D.A. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “You homicide types obviously stick together.”

  “It’s that predilection for dead bodies, I guess.”

  “So do you think he recognized me?”

  “Maybe. You’ve got to admit, your face is memorable.” He let his eyes drift over the lines of her cheeks, coming to rest on the full curve of her lips. She blushed, the soft pink heightening her appeal. Jake forced himself to look away. “Anyway, if you’re worried he’ll tell someone, don’t be. Roger’s as discreet as they come.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that.” Her reassurance was too fast—bordering on glib.

  “Of course you were. But it’s okay. I understand. Being seen with me probably wouldn’t win you brownie points with your father.”

  “Well, he isn’t your biggest fan.”

  “Lady, I got more enemies than a Catholic in Belfast. Might as well add a future President to the list.”

  “So, we’re back to ‘lady’ again.”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged. “You seem to bring out the worst in me.”

  They stood for a moment, gazes locked, each waiting for the other to make a move.

  Riley broke eye contact first, turning back to the files. “Will Roger get in trouble for helping you?”

  Jake sucked in a deep breath, eighty-sixing his desire. “Not if we don’t tell anyone.”

  “I see. And you’re certain I’m not doing anything illegal?” She shot him a look, her eyes questioning.

  “Not technically.”

  The corner of her mouth tipped upward. “All right then. Tell me what I’m looking for.”

  Jake pulled the lid off a box and looked at the files inside. “I’m not sure exactly. Larsen thought Michaels was up to no good.”

  “Something to do with a trial. I remember.” She pulled a file from another box and started to flip through it. “And you think whatever it was he found might be here.”

  “No, actually I don’t. I figure whatever proof he had burned along with his house.”

  “The fortuitous accident.” She looked up from the file she was examining.

  “Not so fortuitous, actually. I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the news. David found evidence that it was arson.”

  Her eyes widened. “Which means that Larsen was murdered?”

  “Well, that’s certainly a possibility. Although the jury is out on that one. It could be that the fire was set to destroy evidence, and Larsen just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “His house.”

  “Right. If I’m on the right track here, then murder looks a whole lot more likely. But without something to prove motive, it’s just arson.”

  “And homicide.”

  “Yeah. And either way, we’re suddenly playing a whole new ball game.”

  “Do they know who did it?”

  “The arson? Not yet.”

  She chewed on the corner of her bottom lip, her expression confused. “So if you believe Larsen’s proof burned, then why—”

  “Are we here?” He sat down and opened a file folder. “Because this is what got him thinking about it. And maybe if we look through it all, we’ll see what he saw. We can start by looking for references to Douglas Michaels. You don’t have to help me with this, you know.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  “I want to talk to you about my sister, and I want your undivided attention. And considering your propensity for being single-minded, I figure the only way I’m going to get that is to help you find Larsen’s proof.”

  He let his gaze trail over the boxes piled on the table. “Hope you don’t have any other plans for tonight.”

  Martell flattened his back to the wall of the office next to the conference room, turning his head slightly so he could see through the door into the room. Mahoney and the senator’s spawn were sitting cozy with a bunch of boxes.

  Boxes that potentially could cook his goose.

  He cursed under his breath, trying to decide what to do. Seemed that lately everything he did was a dollar short and a day late. Well, maybe not the dollar short part, but he sure as hell was making a practice of being too fucking late.

  And no doubt there’d be all kinds of hell to pay for it.

  He should have realized there’d be other files. Should have made certain they were destroyed too. But instead he’d managed to only do half the job. And now he was on the wrong side of the damn door.

  Maybe, if he was lucky, there wouldn’t be anything to find. But luck was something else that seemed to be in short supply lately. Not that anything they found would connect to him. Hell, it wouldn’t even connect to his employer. Thanks to Michaels and his timely demise. So maybe he was standing here worrying about nothing.

  He hesitated, not certain whether he should stay or go. If he stayed, maybe he could figure out how much they knew, but he was also running the risk of someone seeing him—or worse, getting caught. On the other hand, while it was safer to get the hell out of Dodge, he’d be dropping the ball again.

  He was supposed to be tailing Mahoney, and if the son of a bitch found anything, he needed to know about it. It’d be a hell of a lot simpler if he could just take the bastard out. But that wasn’t an option anymore. Not while the senator’s daughter was glued to his side. His orders in that department had been more than clear.

  Personally, he had no problem doing the bitch too. One less holier-than-thou politician wasn’t going to hurt the world. But there was no sense in biting the hand that fed him. Especially since it fed him so well.

  He leaned back against the wall, his decision made. He’d stay. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to report that they hadn’t found a thing. But somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. Life was about odds after all.

  And Jake Mahoney had a way of making them turn in his favor.

  “Any luck?” Riley met Jake’s gaze over the top of the file she was reading.

  “Nothing that screams problems. The chief is mentioned now and again, but usually only in an official capacity, and there are documents here with his signature.” Jake looked as tired as she felt. They’d been at it for what seemed hours, and things weren’t going particularly well.

  “Anything unusual about the documents?”

  “Nothing that I can see. They’re all pretty run of the mill. You finding anything?”

  “Other than the fact that there are a lot of real scuzzballs in Atlanta, nothing helpful. But we’ll find something.” She found herself want
ing to reassure him, but not knowing how. She was out of her depth, and things were happening too fast. Part of her wanted to retreat. To pretend that none of this had happened. But that was a coward’s way out.

  And she was not a coward.

  She believed in facing things head-on.

  She wanted the truth. About her sister. About Jake. About herself.

  Jake made her feel things she’d never felt before, and the last couple of days had her questioning the choices she’d made, wondering if there wasn’t more to life than just being the candidate’s daughter.

  But her life was so entwined with her father’s, it was difficult to tell where his life ended and hers began. Maybe Adelaide was right. Maybe it was time for her own dreams.

  She shook her head and forced herself to concentrate on the case file in front of her. It was older than the rest. The trial concerned an armed robbery and dated back just over nineteen years. The accused was a twenty-one-year-old black man who had shot and killed the owner of a convenience store and three customers. The viciousness of the attack was frightening even on paper.

  She shivered, reading the testimony of a witness who’d lived.

  “You okay?”

  She looked up from the transcripts to meet Jake’s concerned gaze. “Yeah. This is just an awful case. A robbery with four murders. And the whole thing was avoidable. I mean, they were cooperating, and this guy shot them anyway.”

  “Makes you have new respect for what the D.A.’s office does.”

  “God, yes. I can’t imagine facing scum like that day in and day out.” She turned the page. “There’s a mention of Michaels here.” She scanned the contents of the sheet. “Evidently he was one of the investigating officers.” Jake came up behind her, reading over her shoulder. “Looks like Douglas interviewed the county’s key witness. His notes are here. According to this, without her testimony, there’s no way this Daniels fellow could have been convicted.”

  “Daniels?”

  She nodded. “Bryce Daniels. Margaret Wallace is the woman who testified against him. You ever heard of either of them?”

  “No. But then, I would have been a kid in Texas at the time. How about you?”

  “Same problem. And I was even younger than you. I wonder why Larsen would have been looking into a case this old?”

  “Case law probably. Maybe there’s something in this case that he could use to win something else he was working on. Is there anything else?”

  She flipped through the file. “Some police records. There’s a witness list here.” She read down the list of names. “That’s odd.”

  “What?” He read the list over her shoulder. “Do you know someone?”

  “No.” She frowned. “It’s just that there are three witnesses listed here. And only one was called.”

  “Maybe the others weren’t needed.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not. Or maybe they just weren’t helpful. Michaels interviewed all three though.”

  “Are his notes included?”

  She flipped through the pages again. “No. I guess they’re not part of the official record.”

  “But the notes on the other witness, the one who testified, they’re there, right?”

  “Right.” She frowned at the file, her brain churning. “And so if one set of notes is here, you’d expect to find the others.”

  “Exactly. Record keeping for trials is meticulous.”

  “So either they never existed . . .”

  “Which doesn’t make sense.”

  She nodded. “Or they were misplaced somehow.”

  “Possible, but it seems odd in light of all that is here.”

  “Or—” Excitement shot through her with the power of a cannon. “Larsen kept them separately for some reason.”

  “Something to do with Michaels.”

  “But what?” Her excitement faded. They were right back where they’d started.

  “I don’t know. But one of these people ought to be able to help us.” He pointed at the witness list.

  “Or Bryce Daniels.”

  Jake smiled. “You’ve got a knack for this, you know.”

  “I’m learning from the master.” Their gazes collided, and Riley’s breath caught in her throat. Jake leaned forward, and with a will of their own, her eyes closed, her body leaning toward his.

  A crash from the next room interrupted the moment, sending a shiver of pure fear racing down her spine.

  “What the hell was that?” Jake sprang into action, eyes narrowed as he inched his way toward the open door to the connecting office.

  “I don’t know. Maybe something fell.” She followed him across the room, not particularly wanting to get closer, but not wanting to be on her own either.

  Jake grabbed a pointer from a nearby chalkboard, brandishing it like a sword. “Who’s in there?” His voice echoed into the office and died, followed only by silence. He stepped through the opening, eyes scanning the room.

  Riley stopped in the doorway, holding her breath. The little office was empty, everything pristinely in place. On the far wall, the door to the hallway swung open slowly, as if an unseen hand were pulling it.

  “Stay here.” Jake sprinted across the room, still holding the pointer, and disappeared out into the hallway.

  Riley held her ground for about two minutes before realizing that being alone in the courthouse held absolutely no appeal. She followed Jake, stepping out into the hallway in time to see him sprinting around the corner.

  Martell took the stairs two at a time, his breathing labored. Mahoney was behind him. He could hear the sound of his footfalls on the stairs. Son of a bitch. He’d fallen asleep, not fifteen feet from his quarry, knocking over the trash can when he’d jerked awake.

  Shit.

  He rounded a bend in the stairs and ran across the landing. A large number one was painted on the wall, beckoning him. Almost there. Martell pushed himself forward, using the railing as leverage. Mahoney sounded closer. The man was gaining on him. With a burst of speed, he took the last set of risers, flinging open the door to the garage.

  After the fluorescent lighting of the stairwell, the dark of the garage was blinding. And concealing. Martell blinked and forced his eyes to focus. His car was off to the left. Only about a hundred yards. He swerved down the aisle, anger overcoming him.

  He’d had just about enough of Jake Mahoney. And nothing, not even his employer, was going to keep him from putting Mahoney in his place once and for all. He automatically reached for his gun, disappointed to find his holster empty. Fearful of metal detectors, he’d left it in the car.

  Son of a bitch.

  Sliding between his car and the next, he fumbled for his keys, hearing Mahoney slow down as he rounded the corner into the aisle. If he could just get in the car before Mahoney saw him, he’d have the advantage he needed.

  And then he’d make the bastard wish he’d never been born.

  Riley stopped at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto her side, her breath coming in gasps. With a trembling hand she pulled open the door to the garage, then stepped cautiously from the stairwell, crouching low to avoid being a target.

  The fact that she was even thinking about being a target drew her up short, instinct making her turn back toward the safety of the stairs. Something clattered behind her, and her mind trotted out visions of Jake in trouble. Adrenaline surged and she swung back around, straining in the dark for some sign of where he was.

  Off to her left she heard footsteps, and, heart pounding, she worked her way toward the sound, keeping between the cars, using them as a shield. When she reached the end of the row, she inched forward, sticking her head around the rear bumper of the car so she could see down the aisle.

  Jake was crouched low, walking slowly away from her, the pointer still clutched in his hand. Relief washed through her, and she stepped out from behind the car, calling his name. He stopped and turned, just as the sound of a car engine split the quiet of the garage.

  She whirled
around, only to be caught in the blinding glare of headlights. The engine roared as the car accelerated. Frantically, her brain telegraphed the message for her feet to move, but they were having none of it.

  The light grew closer, and just when she thought it would envelop her, something hard hit her from the side, throwing her to the ground, as the car hurtled past her, tires screaming like a banshee.

  “You all right?” Jake’s breath was warm against her ear, his body hard against hers.

  Déjà vu.

  She’d definitely been through this routine before. And quite frankly, it hadn’t been all that fun the first time.

  She struggled to find her voice. “He almost killed me.”

  “He wouldn’t have had the chance if you’d stayed put like I asked you to.” Jake’s voice was laced with anger.

  She pushed at him ineffectually, trying to get him off of her. “That’s the only thanks I get for coming to your rescue?”

  “My rescue?” He lowered his face until they were nose-to-nose, his eyes flashing.

  She narrowed her eyes, holding his gaze. “Yeah. If I hadn’t come along, you’d have been flattened like a pancake.”

  “If you hadn’t come along, I’d probably have gotten a good look at the bastard who almost ran you down.”

  Her anger evaporated. “You didn’t see what he looked like?”

  He shook his head, rolling off her. “It was too dark, and he was too far ahead of me.”

  Riley tested various body parts, satisfied to find everything in working order. “Then it didn’t matter that I was here. You couldn’t have seen him anyway.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “Do you have any idea how close you came to being killed?”

  “I won’t be much better off if you don’t stop shaking me.”

  He released her instantly, his anger replaced by concern. “Did I hurt you?”

  She rubbed her arm, watching him resentfully. “Not much.”

  “It’s just that you scared me.”

  “Well, if it helps at all, I scared myself.” In truth, she hadn’t thought at all, her brain focused only on the need to protect Jake. “So what do we do now?”

  “We get the hell out of here.”

  “Not that I don’t agree with the sentiment, but I was thinking more along the lines of what to do about the man who just tried to kill us.”