Fatal Exposure (14 page)

“Even better.”

“Sure, go ahead.” She handed him her phone, then watched as he placed the call. “Who are you calling?”

“The admin secretary in Homicide. She might not know they’re after me, depending on who’s involved. Hey, Alice,” he said into the phone. “Parker McCall here. I need you to do me a favor.” He rose and walked to the window, then nudged the curtain aside and peered out. “I need to find out who worked in Homicide fifteen years ago. Could you email me the roster?” He paused, his brow wrinkled as he listened to what she said. “I’m not coming in today. You’d better use my private address. Do you have a pen?”

While he chatted with the secretary, Brynn decided to do her part by searching her stepfather’s background online on the off chance that he had a connection to that gang, an angle she’d never had reason to consider before. She pulled up several bios, then skimmed through information she already knew—about his suburban childhood, the glory of his football years, how he’d worked his way up the ranks of the Baltimore Police Department, earning accolades and respect. He’d constructed an impressive public persona, she had to admit.

Too bad it was based on a lie.

Parker ended his call and returned her phone. “I looked up Hoffman’s bio,” she told him. “There’s nothing in it about belonging to a gang, but he probably wouldn’t publicize it if he did.”

“You never know. Senator Riggs belonged to a gang when he was young. He’s turned it into an asset. It’s one of the reasons he’s big on community outreach. He’s trying to keep kids from dying on the streets.”

She couldn’t argue that. But as badly as she wanted to crucify her stepfather, she couldn’t see him belonging to a gang. Preying on defenseless children was more his style.

“If you don’t need your computer,” he continued, “I’ll access my work account and check out Hoffman’s schedule, see what he was doing the night Erin Walker died. I left my computer in my truck at the café. They’ve probably towed it by now.”

“Go ahead. I’ll look through those photos from the camp again in case we missed anything.” Scooting past Parker, she headed into the bathroom and deposited the ice pack in the sink. Then she took her camera from her backpack and settled on the bed again.

But while she tried to focus on checking the date stamps, her mind kept returning to the disillusionment she’d seen in Parker’s eyes. And like it or not, she realized last night had changed something fundamental between them. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of him as just a cop anymore. She cared about Parker McCall. He mattered to her now. And despite the potential danger, she couldn’t stay detached from this complex man.

Even more disturbed by that thought, she frowned at the photographs. Several minutes later, she released a sigh. “I can’t find anything new. Hoffman was at the camp on July 14, two days before Erin died. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t there on the sixteenth, just that no one caught him on film.”

Parker nodded, his gaze still on the computer. “According to his schedule, he attended a gang conference at the Baltimore Convention Center on the sixteenth. Later that night he went to a reception in D.C. hosted by Senator Riggs.”

“What time was the reception?”

“It started at eight.”

Her hopes plummeted. “So that rules him out in Erin’s death.” And she’d been so sure...

“Not necessarily. He still could have made it to the camp, depending on when he left the reception.”

“How can we find that out?”

“Pay the senator a visit and ask.”

She blinked. “Don’t tell me you know him?”

“No, but if I tell him I’m investigating Hoffman...”

She stared at him in disbelief, stunned by the risk he was willing to take. Parker wasn’t the type to defy the rules. He had absolute faith in the law. For him to gamble his career, going against everything he believed in...

“He’ll never buy it,” she argued. “He’ll call Hoffman and check.”

“You have a better idea?”

Her heart made a sudden zigzag. She rose and went to the window, wondering if she had enough nerve. But she’d sucked Parker into this mess, and she owed him at least that much.

Inhaling sharply, she turned around. “I do, actually.
I’ll
call the senator. I’ll tell him I’m B. K. Elliot, and that I want to meet with him this afternoon about a partnership helping runaway teens. He won’t turn me down. The publicity will boost his career.”

A frown etched Parker’s brow. “How will that help us? We need information about Hoffman’s schedule.”

“It’ll get us through the door. Once we’re inside, you can ask him whatever you want. Even if he’s suspicious, he won’t be able to call Hoffman until we leave. That’ll give us time to get away.”

Parker got to his feet. He paced to the door and back, one hand gripping his neck. She knew he was weighing the pros and cons, probing the flaws in her plan. But it would work. It had to. It was the only real option they had.

“I won’t tell the senator you’re with me,” she added. “Not until we get there. He doesn’t know the police are after me, so I doubt he’ll lay a trap.”

Parker stopped beside her again. “But he’ll learn who you are. Your identity will come out. You’re sure you want to take that risk?”

Of course she didn’t want to risk it. But she knew what she had to do. “It’s going to come out regardless. Now that the newspaper has run my picture...”

“It still might take them a while to find you. You should wait until we’ve arrested the killer at least.”

“We don’t have time. That gang’s already attacked us once. Now the police are after us, too. Our luck won’t hold for long.”

Parker hesitated, then shook his head. “There must be another way.”

“I don’t see one. Besides, I want to do this.” She was the one they were after. Only she could stop the slaughter—no matter how terrifying the thought.

“What about your friends?” he asked. “I thought you had to protect them.”

“I’ll call Haley and warn her. Nadine’s in South America, so she’s safe enough for now.”

“I still don’t like it. Too much can go wrong.”

Knowing she had to convince him, she feigned courage she didn’t feel. “It’s going to work. I’m sure I can get us in.”

But would they get back out?

She met his worried eyes, his concern for her touching her heart. And all of a sudden, she was certain of something else. They might not survive this ordeal. They might never see each other again if they did. But she knew with dead-on certainty that she wanted to make love to Parker one more time.

She dropped her gaze to his mouth. Memories tumbled through her mind—of how he’d tasted and looked and smelled. And she desperately needed to feel him, to experience that delirium again.

Because the truth was, she didn’t care if he was a cop. She didn’t care if she’d get hurt when they parted ways. Even if it was just an illusion, she longed to relive the feelings he’d evoked—of being sheltered, cherished,
loved.

She swallowed hard. Parker didn’t know it, but he’d given her a precious gift last night. For the first time in her life, she’d had a taste of how real love might feel, the security of being safe in a strong man’s arms. And God help her, even if this all ended badly, she wanted to experience that one last time.

She reached up and stroked his jaw. Surprise flared in his hypnotic eyes. “Kiss me, Parker,” she whispered, stepping so close she was cradled between his thighs.

His eyes went hot. The muscles worked in his whiskered throat. He curled one hand around her neck, the sensual touch scrambling her thoughts. “Are you sure? Your arm—”

“Forget my arm,” she whispered. “Just put your hands on me before I go insane.”

He growled then, a deep, feral sound that sent thrills shuddering down her spine. Then he pulled her hard against him and lowered his mouth to hers. And she didn’t think again for a long, long time.

Chapter 12

“Y
ou’re sure you want to do this?” Parker asked Brynn again as they exited the staircase just off the atrium in the Hart Senate Office Building and turned down a light-filled hall.

“I’m sure.”

“We can wait for the senator to come back.” As it turned out, Senator Riggs was out of town. But several phone calls and various staffers later, they’d managed to get an appointment with Gwendolyn Shaffer, the senator’s chief of staff.

“I’ll be all right, Parker.”

It didn’t feel all right. It felt like a huge mistake—another potential screwup he was going to regret. He’d already messed up by making love to Brynn again. He’d had no business touching her, no matter how blinding the sex. But instead of whisking her to safety, instead of doing his sworn duty and shielding a vulnerable civilian from harm, he was exposing her to a situation he feared could go lethally wrong.

But they had to take the initiative. They couldn’t stay on the defensive, waiting for an attack—especially with the police involved. Still, he wished they were meeting somewhere neutral, somewhere public, somewhere he could plan for a quick escape. But Shaffer had flat-out refused.

“Anyhow, it’s better this way,” Brynn scooted over to let several people wearing suits and carrying briefcases hurry by. “The senator won’t know the details, like who attended what event. Junior people handle stuff like that. And they’re usually more willing to talk.”

“Maybe.” But Gwendolyn Shaffer was hardly a flunky, according to the online bios he’d read. Despite an impoverished childhood, she’d worked her way through law school, then embarked on a meteoric career—clerking for a federal judge, serving as a city commissioner and sitting on various boards. Her current duties included everything from advising the senator on domestic and foreign policy to managing his reelection campaign.

Still, Brynn was right. The senator’s chief of staff was their only hope right now—and Brynn was their ticket in. He just hoped they’d escape unscathed.

Still battling his reservations, Parker accompanied her down the gleaming corridor to the office and followed her inside. After giving their names to the secretary, he prowled around the reception area while they waited for the chief of staff. He glanced at the usual political photos decorating the walls—the senator with the president, the senator hosting a conference with leaders from the Muslim community, the senator with the ambassador of Jaziirastan in front of the embassy.

Brynn came up beside him, and he shifted his gaze to her. And once again her beauty bulldozed through him—her soft, downy skin, her glorious, auburn hair, the perfect contours of her creamy lips. And a fierce feeling of possessiveness stole through him, the need to claim and protect this woman in the most fundamental of ways.

He shook his head, appalled at how thoroughly she’d captivated him, obliterating any impartiality he’d once had. But this wasn’t the time to examine his feelings. He had to focus on keeping her safe.

“That must be Erin Walker’s father,” Brynn said, peering at a photo.

Still struggling to subdue his emotions, Parker shifted his gaze to the shot. According to the caption, Senator Riggs had brokered a weapons deal between Walker Avionics and the government of Jaziirastan, a small country bordering Afghanistan. The deal had brought his state hundreds of jobs.

“That figures. The senator gets Walker business in exchange for campaign contributions and touts it as creating jobs.” No wonder Hoffman had warned him off. There were billions of dollars involved.

And speaking of power... Parker scowled at his watch. The chief of staff was taking her time. Five more minutes and they were out of here. He wasn’t risking Brynn’s safety longer than that.

His uneasiness mounting, he trailed Brynn past another row of publicity shots—the senator touring a housing project, the senator christening a shelter for victims of domestic violence, the senator playing golf at a fund-raiser for disadvantaged kids.

Brynn abruptly came to a stop. “I know that man.”

Parker looked at the shot. The senator and another man stood laughing beside a golf cart, waiting to tee off. “Who is it?”

She shot a quick glance back at the receptionist, then lowered her voice. “Oliver Burroughs—he’s Haley’s father. He’s a criminal defense attorney in Baltimore. A real big shot. I’ve never met him, but Haley showed me his picture once. And I don’t usually forget a face.”

“Criminal defense, huh?” Parker studied the photo with interest now. So Senator Riggs golfed with a prominent Baltimore defense attorney. That didn’t mean much; politicians networked all the time. But if there was a chance that attorney defended gang members...

He switched his gaze to Brynn. “Can we visit your friend?”

“Haley?”

“I’d like to ask her some questions about her father, whether he had a connection to Markus Jenkins, that gang leader who was released from jail.”

“You think her father got him released?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it. From what I’ve heard, it was some sort of paperwork glitch. I’d still like to talk to your friend, though, and find out what she knows.”

Her eyes thoughtful, Brynn gave him a nod. “Sure. We can go there as soon as we leave here.”

A woman strode into the reception area just then, and they both turned around. The senator’s chief of staff was in her early forties, average height, and slightly plump. She wore a gray plaid suit, low-heeled shoes and an old-fashioned strand of pearls. She had chin-length, mouse-brown hair peppered with streaks of gray. Yet despite her unremarkable appearance, her steps were brisk and her gaze steady as she crossed the room. She radiated poise and power.

“Good afternoon. I’m Gwendolyn Shaffer,” she said to Brynn. “Senator Riggs’s chief of staff.”

“Brynn Elliot.” Parker watched the exchange, noting the sharp curiosity in the woman’s eyes as they shook hands.

“This is Detective McCall,” Brynn said. “From the Baltimore Police Department.”

The chief of staff’s smile didn’t falter, nothing in her expression indicating any surprise.
This woman wasn’t a novice,
Parker realized, his respect for her rising a degree. He’d have a tough time shaking her composure enough to glean anything of note.

She ushered them into her office and offered drinks, which they refused. As they took their seats by the bookcase, Parker ran his gaze around the room, taking in the huge window overlooking the atrium, the plush carpet and leather chairs.
No trace of her hardscrabble roots in here.

“I’m quite a fan of your work,” Shaffer told Brynn, taking a seat in an armchair across from them. The chitchat dwindled a moment later, and Shaffer sat back, an expectant look in her eyes.

Parker cleared his throat, drawing her attention to him. “I’m afraid we came here under false pretenses.” For the first time Shaffer blinked. “I need information about an event the senator hosted in July. I didn’t want to go through the usual channels because the investigation is sensitive. I don’t want word getting out just yet.”

“I see.” A cautious note crept into her voice. “How can I help you?”

He shifted in his chair. “The senator hosted a reception for the ambassador of Jaziirastan at the Willard InterContinental Hotel on July 16. I’m interested in one of the attendees, Hugh Hoffman, the chief of the Baltimore Police Department’s Criminal Investigation Division.”

Shaffer pursed her lips, her expression giving nothing away. “So this is official police business? You’re investigating Colonel Hoffman?”

Smart question, one he’d expect a lawyer to ask. “No, it’s not official yet. I’m only gathering information right now.”

“Exactly what do you need to know?”

“Whether he attended the reception and what time he left. I’d also like a copy of the guest list, if that’s possible.”

Shaffer steepled her hands. He could almost see her mind spinning, weighing the repercussions for the senator, her boss. Then she rose and went to her desk.

He traded a glance with Brynn, caught the worry in her eyes over how Shaffer would react. But Shaffer picked up the telephone receiver and punched a key. “Nancy, I need you to bring me the guest list from the Jaziirastan reception on July 16 and the schedule of events. Right away. Thanks.”

She replaced the receiver in its cradle, then turned to face them again. “Colonel Hoffman was at the reception, but I don’t know what time he left. He was there for the senator’s speech, which I believe was around nine-thirty. I didn’t see him again after that.”

Parker frowned. “You’re sure he was there?”

“He stood beside me during the speech.”

“And the event took place at the Willard?”

“That’s right.”

So if Hoffman had left by ten, he’d had enough time to get to the camp in western Maryland, which was just over an hour away. And while that information didn’t necessarily convict him, neither did it rule him out.

A soft knock came from the door. “Come in,” Shaffer called.

The secretary entered the room and handed several papers to the chief of staff. “Just as I thought,” Shaffer said when the secretary left. “The senator gave his remarks at nine-thirty. He usually speaks for fifteen or twenty minutes. There was nothing scheduled after that. As I said, I don’t remember seeing Colonel Hoffman later, so I really don’t know when he left.”

She walked over and handed the other sheet to him. “This is the list of guests.”

“I appreciate it.”

Her gaze was cool. “I’m happy to cooperate. If you have further questions, don’t hesitate to call and ask.”

In other words, go through the proper channels.
Parker rose, recognizing a dismissal when he heard it, no matter how polite her tone of voice. “Thanks for your time.”

“Of course.” She cast a quick glance back at the phone. And suddenly Parker knew with absolute certainty that she was going to contact Hoffman the instant they left the room.

Which meant he had to get Brynn to safety at once.

Shaffer walked them to the door and turned to Brynn. “If you’d still like to speak with the senator, I’m sure we can set something up.”

Parker waited, his impatience mounting, as Brynn took her card and murmured a polite reply. Then he hurried her away from the office and back down the corridor, an urgent feeling quickening his steps.

“Walk faster.” He steered her to the nearest stairwell.

Brynn shot him a glance. “You think she’s going to report us to Hoffman?”

“She’s probably on the phone right now. We need to get out of here before he tells her to alert the guards.”

They reached the stairwell a moment later and raced to the bottom floor. Then they walked as fast as they dared through the lobby toward the tall glass doors.

A guard stepped into their path. Several more guards appeared out of nowhere, fanning across the room. His heart thundering, Parker grabbed Brynn’s arm and steered her into a crowd of businessmen converging on the door. Then he shuffled with her through the exit, hoping the guards wouldn’t notice them amid the men.

What a disaster. He hadn’t proven Hoffman’s guilt. He hadn’t unearthed a single detail that would help them save their skins. Instead, he’d tipped off the chief of staff—who was now putting the D.C. cops on their trail—endangering Brynn even more.

They reached the sidewalk a second later, and the businessmen began to disperse. A sudden shout came from behind them. “Go!” he urged.

They broke into a run.

* * *

Brynn’s pulse still hadn’t returned to normal as they exited the Metro several blocks from Haley’s shelter and headed up the street. Thankfully, it appeared they’d escaped the police. The last thing she wanted was to bring more danger to Haley or her pregnant teens. But their luck couldn’t last, not with both the Baltimore and D.C. cops now on their trail—not to mention that deadly gang.

Still skittish, she shot another glance behind her, then surveyed the quiet street. Haley’s shelter was in a transitional section of D.C. Newly refurbished row houses were interspersed with derelict buildings still bearing the call signs of local gangs.

“So tell me about your friend,” Parker said.

She lifted her gaze to his. “What do you want to know?”

“Where you met, where she’s from, what her father’s like.”

Brynn hesitated, the instinct to protect Haley’s identity ingrained after years on the run. But it was ridiculous to doubt Parker given their current plight.

“We met on the streets in Baltimore,” she said. “That’s where she’s from. Her family comes from money. Old money. They live in Guilford, have a summer home at Saint Michaels—the whole nine yards.”

“High society.”

“The highest. They’re even listed in the Blue Book.” The Baltimore Society Visiting List, better known as the Blue Book, was an elite social registry that dated back nearly a century, listing Baltimore’s upper crust.

“Interesting profile for a runaway,” Parker said.

“Not really. You’d be surprised at what goes on behind closed doors, even in
respectable
families.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

“I’m a cop, Brynn. I’ve seen some pretty bad stuff.”

Not the horror she’d endured.

She frowned at the cracked sidewalk, wondering how he’d react if he knew her past. Would he recoil in disgust? Blame her for the abuse? Most men would race for the exits if she even hinted at the revolting truth.

She slipped him a sideways glance, surprised that she even cared. But his opinion mattered to her. Somehow in the past few days Parker had penetrated the decades-old buffer she’d built around her heart. And once again, she was so incredibly tempted to tell him the details, to reveal her nightmarish past.

But this wasn’t the time. They had too much else on their minds. And what if he didn’t believe her? Could she survive that humiliation again?

Pushing aside that disturbing thought, she skirted a pile of construction debris, then glanced at a carpenter working in a weed-filled yard, sawing a pile of boards. She raised her voice above the noise. “Anyhow, Haley got pregnant and ran away.”