Look Before You Jump (23 page)

The sixth floor roof access door had a shiny
new padlock in place, probably installed after I’d made
Jimmy-the-Super mad with my accusations. Hmm, I’d kinda forgotten
all about where Jimmy fit into the picture now that Grady and Bud
were the prime suspects. Was he involved? If so, I hoped he hadn’t
heard me come through the front door. Maybe he’d think I’d come
home for more clothes. Perhaps that I’d forgotten about the state
of my place while in a drunken haze.

Hey, don’t judge.

A closer inspection revealed the padlock
wasn’t the problem. The brass plate screwed into the door jamb
appeared loose, as if the screws were stripped. Using a fingernail,
I easily slid first one then another screw from the soft wood until
a tug of the plate sent the remaining screws falling into my palm
and the door swinging open with a drawn-out spooky creak.

Thank God it wasn’t near Halloween or I’d
have been close to piddling my panties again. First the visit with
Charlotte at her web and now creaky doors. Instead of laying off
the sex, maybe it was time to abstain from the horror movies for
awhile. You think?

A summer breeze whispered across the
threshold as I stood in the doorway and surveyed the surrounds. The
bright lights of downtown flickered in the not-so-far distance,
providing enough ambient light with which to make out the nearby
air conditioning units churning out cold air.

My heels sunk ever so slightly as I stepped
onto the rubber covered asphalt and walked to the first unit. I
flicked on the new flashlight I’d bought and looked at the imprints
left in my wake. Yep, definite evidence of shoe impressions. The
killer could’ve walked along the units to the wide concrete edge to
avoid leaving footprints across the roof, but that still didn’t
explain why there was nothing between the doorway and the first
unit. A big heavy man carrying a petite but pregnant woman? Yeah,
footprints left behind for sure – unless.

The idea struck out of left field, but I
removed my new pumps anyway and set them carefully along the edge
of an air conditioner. The rubberized asphalt was still warm from
the hot summer sun but not too uncomfortable by this time of night
as I returned to the door. The flashlight beam revealed what I’d
hoped not to see.

Bare foot imprints. Barely there, but there
nonetheless.

I hung my head with a sigh – and caught sight
of a sliver of wood beneath the open door. A tug sent the door
creaking again and revealed a narrow slab of plywood leaning
against the wall within reach. The weathered wood looked just long
enough to create a pathway across the roof between the door and the
first air conditioning unit. With a long stride – easy for a taller
man – once he got to the first, it’d be a simple matter of hopping
from one unit to the next over to the edge. But you’d have to have
really good balance to walk around the cement edge to the parking
lot side where Amy’s body was found.

The heat of a Texas day would probably cause
any shoe imprints in the rubber lining to dissipate over time,
evidenced by the lack of Jimmy’s impressions from when he’d come up
to work on the roof. Work boot imprints would sink down pretty
deep, but my barefoot imprints hardly showed. If the killer decided
to go barefoot and
did
falter while balancing a pregnant
woman in his arms, he may have stepped down from the edge somewhere
on his journey and left a mark the police missed.

I started to tiptoe to the end of the units
to follow-up on the idea and left my shoes behind. Being barefoot
allowed me to be discrete and not leave behind too much of my own
trail. Being barefoot also helped the killer creep across the
rooftop without making a sound – a realization I had right about
the time I was grabbed from behind and a hand slammed across my
mouth.

Unfortunately for me, the man-handling wasn’t
from Zeke this time.

“You think you’re always so smart,” Bud
whispered in my ear, stale beer breath hot on my cheek. “Got your
rich mommy and daddy to bail you out so you can play instead of
work a real job, while people like me have to work two.”

My scream was muffled and the metallic taste
of blood seeped past my lips. I tried to wrench my pinned arms from
Bud’s meat hook, but all that got me was pressed up tighter against
him. It was immediately obvious my struggles turned the creep
on.

“Flirting with every guy you see,” he
continued. “Letting them feel you up.”

Warm slobbery lips dipped to my neck and sent
my heart racing into overdrive. ‘Cept this time it was from
disgust. In a swift takedown, Bud swept my feet out from beneath
me, grinding my knees and face into the stinking roof to where I
could barely breathe, much less scream, as he sat on top of me and
secured my wrists with a zip tie. That was gonna leave more than
just a mark. My eyes watered, blurring my view of the nearby roof
edge where Amy had last stood.

“Everyone except me, Vicki. Why is that?”

Before I could answer – or more likely scream
– Bud stuffed an oily rag in my mouth. The crushing weight lifted
only long enough for him to flip me to my side, one hand trailing
up my leg while the other grabbed my breast.

My stomach clenched. I cringed. Bud moaned
until I kicked him in the leg. But at that angle I couldn’t get any
power behind the thrust, and it probably came across more like a
pat of encouragement to him. Bud laughed and gripped my breast
until it hurt, and I could hardly breathe.

“Still think you’re too good for me?” he
asked. “My dick could fill you up more than that sissy pretty boy
you’ve been shacking up with.”

I was pretty sure he meant Nick and not my
current roommate. Landlord. Oh hell, I didn’t know what to call
Zeke – I just wished one of them would ride in at that moment like
the cavalry and save me.

Wait a minute. I was no shrinking damsel. In
distress? Sure, but not some ditzy damsel who couldn’t take care of
herself. While Bumbling Bud had been talking and taking advantage,
I’d used my tongue to work the rag loose until I spit it out in his
face. Sometimes it helps having a tangoing tongue that gets regular
workouts. Or a big mouth.

“Get your hands off me,” I screamed, “or so
help me you won’t have a dick left to piss with.”

As he reached for the rag, I sat up and
caught him right in the nose with a crack. I saw stars, while the
howl he let loose would’ve rivaled a hound. Blood gushed down his
shirtfront as I scrambled to my feet and dashed toward the door
like a wingless chicken. His hand clamped down and spun me around
to face the edge once again.

“You just can’t leave well enough alone,” Bud
snarled as he shoved a gun under my chin and dragged me toward the
cement surround.

“Stop right there!”

My hero stood in the doorway of the roof
entrance in the form of one Jimmy-the-Super, his white boxers
gleaming in the dark. A gun wavered in his two-fisted grip, and my
heart lurched as Bud used me as a human shield. With Jimmy’s
drooping right side, it made me wonder which of us he held in his
sights. Not a pleasant thought in this situation, but it was nice
to see I’d been wrong about my landlord’s employee.

“Let her go,” Jimmy demanded.

Bud barely flinched when he flicked his gun
barrel from my chin toward the super. The report rang in my ears as
Jimmy fell backward in a heap on the landing. The cavalry’s ride
was over before it had even mounted. My hero lay dying – and I was
next.

The scent of singed flesh joined that of
spent gunpowder when Bud shoved the smoking barrel against my neck.
Tears ran warm down my cheeks, but I refused to give my captor the
pleasure of crying out in pain. Instead I pulled out the only
weapon I had left in my arsenal – talking him to death.

Remember, I’m a woman.

“Did you try to rape Amy too before you
tossed her over the side?” I asked, trying to delay while I thought
up a new plan of escape.

“A pregnant woman?” Bud spat. “How desperate
do you think I am?”

“Pretty desperate to kill her. The only thing
I wonder is why.”

“You’re so smart, you tell me.”

“The cartel,” I huffed, digging in my bare
feet to the soft rooftop. “Amy’s father is part of the Juarez drug
cartel.”

I think that surprised him, as Bud stopped
for a sec. “So?”

“And you’re part of their drug smuggling
operation. I saw you and Grady unloading the cattle the other
night.”

That little revelation sent him into
overdrive. “You don’t know nothin’.”

“Like I didn’t know Amy’s death wasn’t a
suicide?”

Bud grunted. “If you’d have just shut up, the
cops would’ve never reopened the case. It’s your fault I had to
plant the sleeping pill bottle at that sniveling pastor’s
house.”

Now my dander was up. “That sniveling pastor
is my friend.” I raised my bare foot and brought the full weight of
my heel down on his toes.

That only served to make him mad. I kinda
forgot in the fear-induced stupor I’d left my shoes near the air
conditioners. Instead of pulling the trigger, Bud cold cocked me
with the gun butt. The stars in the sky started swirling as if God
had sped up the earth’s rotation. My body felt weightless as if
flung toward outer space at the same time a second gun report
echoed in the night and the ground rose up to meet me. But instead
of hard, unforgiving cement, my body flopped against rubber-covered
asphalt. Then my head found the cement edge.

Through the fog, I looked up into a familiar
face. Warm chocolate eyes soothed my insides as I realized my
mistake. One side of his mustache tipped up like a salute of
greeting as he lifted my head.

“How ya doing, Vic?”

“Been better, Grady.”

The stars spun tighter around his face in a
candy-coated kaleidoscope of color. Then I blacked out.

Once again, my apartment building swarmed
with red and blue lights. Only this time they weren’t there for a
dead body – well, ‘cept Bud’s. Somewhere among my in-and-out
consciousness, I heard Grady’s bullet had been an amazing shot
right between the eyes, stopping Bud’s momentum just as he was
about to hurl me off the roof.

Sirens wailed into the night as the first
ambulance on scene herded Jimmy toward the hospital. Grady assured
me he would be alright. The bullet near his shoulder was a clean
through-and-through, nothing surgery and plenty of rest couldn’t
repair. The fall down the stairwell earned him a date with a CAT
scanner though. With a wave of the hand, he shooed away the
paramedics and sat beside my gurney in the second ambulance.

“Undercover ATF agent?” I said over the
clanging in my head.

“Shh,” Grady hushed. “Not so loud.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uh, undercover for a reason.”

Oh. Right. The scrambled pieces of my brain
hadn’t yet congealed together enough to wade through something as
mundane as a logical conversation.

“Does Zeke know?” I asked.

“Sure,” Grady returned. “Who do you think
recommended ya for the job?”

I groaned and laid back against the hard
pillow. “So who recommended Bud for the job, huh?”

A frown drew Grady’s mustache down. “That
really did start out as an attempt to help an old Army buddy.
Wasn’t until a few months after I’d hired Bud that I suspected more
was up with his other job. That’s when I pulled in Ranger
Taylor.”

“So what about your Army buddy now?”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a hard call. Really
wish I hadn’t had to put Bud’s name on that bullet.”

I put a hand over Grady’s. “I’m sorry to put
you through this trouble.”

He patted mine. “Though I’d do it again to
save ya, Vic.”

Before I could say anything else, Zeke’s
wide-eyed gaze filled my tear-blurred vision. “Vicki?”

“Zeke,” I cried, sending my clattering brain
running for cover.

His gaze traveled over every bruise, blister,
scratch and scrape before lifting my chin to check out the salved
and gauze covered wound on my neck. Brown eyes asked the question
his mouth wouldn’t – or couldn’t – say.

“Just a small burn,” I reassured. “From Bud’s
gun muzzle. I’ll be fine.”

Zeke grunted then offered a single curt nod
Grady’s direction. “Grady.”

“Zeke,” Grady responded.

“Many thanks for saving our girl,” Zeke
said.

“Someone had to save her ass again.” Grady
chuckled. “Gotta figure out some way to steal her away from
ya.”

“Hey,” I butt in. “Nobody’s stealing no one
away from nobody.” Did that make any sense? “I’m an unattached
woman. End of story.”

“Speaking of stories,” Grady said, “I caught
that last bit Bud said about planting the sleeping pills at the
Vernet house.”

“Yeah? Well you can hear the whole story if
you want.” I lifted my blouse and jimmied the mic loose from my bra
and handed it to Grady. “That is, if the recorder in my car was
still on.”

Two sets of eyes darted toward then away from
my exposed assets so fast, I would’ve laughed if my head wasn’t
already begging for mercy.

Zeke offered a hike of his brow instead of a
furrow this time. “Recorder?”

I nodded then regretted it. “See, the other
day I stopped by this electronics store and picked up a few things.
I used the tracking device the other night to find you, Zeke.”

The hike immediately went south. “I
discovered it after I got home.”

“Well then I was gonna question Grady here
tonight,” I said, thumbing my boss. “Until I got there and realized
Bud was also involved and it turns out my boss is actually a…” I
lowered my voice to a whisper this time. “…an ATF agent.”

Grady’s mustache lifted on both sides this
time. “I’ll let ya interrogate me anytime, Vic.”

I smiled, though with the pain in my head,
side, legs, knees, neck – oh hell, pretty much my entire body – my
smile probably came out more like a grimace. “Does this mean
Bobby’s officially off the hook?”