Paint It Black (5 page)

“Denise,” he gasped, and I whirled to face him.

Barnes squatted against a tree, his gun dangling between his knees. He made no attempt to point it at me. Blood streamed down his face, and his skin was an awful, mottled gray color.

“Drop it!” I shouted.

“Please—”

“Drop it,” I repeated, advancing toward him with my Glock centered on his chest. “Don’t make me kill you.”

Our eyes met, and I remembered the last time I’d seen him, on the worst day of my life. I’d hated him then. I hated him now.

“You would shoot your own father?” he asked, but his fingers went slack.

The gun sank into the snow at his feet.

CHAPTER
3

M
y heart froze.

“You are not my father,” I spat. “You are nothing to me. You should’ve killed me when you had the chance. Frank Barnes, you are under arrest—”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “There’s so much you don’t know.”

Advancing, I continued, “You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Do you understand?”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“Do you understand?” I yelled, hating the angry, bitter tears that sprang to my eyes.

“I never meant to hurt Gail.”

“Shut up!” I hissed. “Don’t say her name. Don’t you dare. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?”

“I’m so, so sorry, but you have to know … it wasn’t all my fault.”

“You bastard!” I cried, and jabbed the gun against his forehead. Fear flashed in his eyes—eyes that were the same shade of green as mine. “Is this what you did to Angel?” I asked. “Did he beg for his life? Will you?”

“You won’t shoot me,” he said. “You can’t. We’re family.”

“If you say that one more time, you’re going to find out differently. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. Do you understand?”

“I tried to be part of your life. I tried to support you. Gail wouldn’t let me.”

“Liar!” I shrieked, and my finger tightened on the trigger. “You walked away from us, and you never looked back. Why can’t you be man enough to admit it?”

“There’s a picture in my wallet, of you and me when you were about three. I came to see you. Gail’s mother let me take you to the carnival once. Do you remember?” He reached for his pocket, and I poked him so hard with the gun that he fell backward in the snow.

His mention of my grandmother jolted me. I vaguely remembered her. She would show up sometimes at our house, and my mother would always turn her away. I never knew what had happened between them, because
she died when I was ten.

Dimly, I heard Cougar yelling my name.

“Over here,” I shouted, and swiped at the tears on my cheeks. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” he said heavily, as Cougar burst into the clearing.

Woodenly, I recited the last two verses of his Miranda rights. Cougar cuffed him and hauled him roughly to his feet. More officers materialized through the trees, and the ATF took command of Barnes. They peppered him with questions, but he said nothing. He merely stared at me with sad eyes. I didn’t want to look at him, but somehow I couldn’t look away.

“Are you okay?” Cougar asked, and I forced my attention to him while they dragged Barnes away.

My heart leapt when I noticed Cougar was clutching his arm. Blood painted his fingers. “What happened?” I gasped. “Were you shot?”

“It grazed me. No big deal.” He took a deep breath. “When you started up that hill, I thought the driver was going to shoot you in the back. I didn’t have an angle on him, but I saw him crouched behind the back bumper, watching you. I don’t know why he didn’t shoot you. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”

He surprised me by pulling me into his arms and
hugging me tight. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you and Angel both.”

I pulled back and touched his face. “It’s over. We got him. And Hardhead’s going to be all right, too. You won’t lose either of us.”

Cougar laughed and lifted an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Wait till Grady sees his Porsche.”

I groaned. “I’m dead meat, huh?”

He knelt to scrub his bloody fingers with a handful of snow. “Just keep looking all cute and pitiful,” he advised.

I smiled, despite the sense of impending doom I felt. But Grady wasn’t the one I was worried about—not yet, anyway. Would Barnes tell everyone about us?

When I’d first started work with the DEA, I’d made Grady ask one of his law school professors about the legal ramifications of my working Barnes’s case. He’d said that since Barnes and I’d had virtually no contact in my entire life, our connection should neither endanger the investigation nor get me fired. But that was little consolation, because I knew if the truth came out—
when
it came out—my career would be ruined. My team would never trust me again.

I could pretend I didn’t know—his name wasn’t even on my birth certificate—but lying was Barnes’s thing, not mine. If the truth came out, it came out. I had no control over it now, but that knowledge didn’t ease the worry twisting my stomach. I already felt awful about
keeping it from my teammates, but what choice did I have? If I’d admitted who I was, they wouldn’t have let me near the case, and I’d wanted—I’d
needed
—to be a part of bringing Barnes down.

“It’ll be all right,” Cougar said gently.

Confused, I watched him stand and brush his hands on his pant legs. Then it dawned on me he was still talking about the car.

He grinned, pinched my cheek, and cooed, “Now who could stay mad at a sad widdle face like this?”

“Jerk,” I muttered, and aimed a halfhearted kick at his behind. He dodged it, then veered toward me and slung his good arm around my shoulders. He kept it there while we trudged back to the road. I wondered if all men from Texas were like him, always touching, always teasing. Although it had unnerved me at first, I was getting used to it.

We reached the highway just in time to see the wrecker pull away with Grady’s Porsche. I groaned again, and Cougar laughed.

Ubi offered us a ride to the police station. The three of us wedged in the cab of his little Toyota pickup like sardines. I was going to have a bruise on the inside of my knee where he shifted gears and he had the heater on full blast. I felt a little queasy with the hot air battering my face, and Ubi’s jerky “speed up and brake” driving wasn’t helping things any.

“Hey, can we stop by my apartment on the way?” Cougar asked, and I stifled a groan.

While he ran inside, my mind kept flashing to what Barnes had said. My mother had told me he’d left when she was pregnant and never looked back. Why would he lie about that now? Did he think I’d feel sorry for him? Surely he hadn’t expected me to let him go.

Cougar reappeared ten minutes later, stuffing something into his jacket pocket, and we lurched on our way.

Pandemonium reigned outside the police station. Cougar shoved a path through the throng of reporters, and Ubi and I followed in his wake.

Bill stood in the doorway of a glassed-in office like a kid watching his parents fight, not wanting to go in but unable to look away. He glanced at us as we crowded around him, then turned his attention back to the three men inside. The precinct captain faced down Barnes and a red-faced man in a gray suit who I assumed was Barnes’s lawyer. I saw enough lawyers on a daily basis that I could pretty well pick them out of a crowd.

“What do you mean, you’re holding him for attempted murder?” the lawyer sputtered. “Attempted murder of whom? The agents who arrested him were in an unmarked car. My client didn’t know they were DEA. He was only trying to defend himself.”

The captain shifted the toothpick in his mouth. “We’re arresting him for the attempted murder of Agent
John Angelino, who was shot on Mr. Barnes’s premises this morning.”

Barnes’s hands were still cuffed behind him, and I noticed him popping his fingers one by one with his thumb. The simple movement chilled me, because it was a habit I shared. I’d done it all my life, much to my mother’s—and later Grady’s—annoyance.

Barnes leaned to whisper something to his lawyer, then rocked back on his heels. He rolled his neck and seemed to notice me for the first time. For an instant our eyes met, and my telltale heart threatened to beat out of my chest in the sudden terror that everyone else would see what I was only now seeing myself. We looked alike. We really did. I’d stared at his pictures a million times, but I’d never noticed it before.

The fat lawyer braced his hands on the edge of the desk. “My client wasn’t even home this morning. You say the victim is in a coma. What evidence could you possibly have to connect Mr. Barnes to the shooting?”

The captain nodded at Bill, who took a hesitant step inside and gestured at us. “Angelino was conscious when they found him. They heard him say—”

“I’ve got better than that,” Cougar interrupted. He fished a tiny cassette from his pocket and handed it to Bill. “This is Angel’s statement. I took it on the way to the hospital, and it was witnessed by two ambulance attendants.”

Fear sparked in Barnes’s eyes.

Good
, I thought.

The captain punched a button on his phone. “Marty, find me something to play one of those little tapes on.”

Bill fingered the tape, his brows furrowed. “How?” he asked. “We were on a raid. I know you didn’t have a recorder with you.”

Cougar tugged his earlobe and gave a bitter smile. “I was afraid … I don’t know … I was afraid Angel’s luck wouldn’t hold out. That maybe he wouldn’t remember later. And I wanted to catch him fresh, so I borrowed the EMT’s cell phone, called my answering machine, and got him to give his statement into it. We had to call it three times, because it kept cutting us off, but it worked.”

Awed, I shook my head. “Cougar, that was brilliant.”

I glimpsed the pain in his eyes before he looked away. “I wish it was unnecessary. That Angel could speak for himself.” He glared at Barnes. “You smug bastard. If he dies, you’ll wish you’d used that bullet on yourself.”

“Captain!” the lawyer barked. “I won’t allow my client to be threatened.”

The captain sighed. “Bill, please control your agent.”

Bill opened his mouth, and Cougar held up his hands. “Okay,” he said, and walked toward the window.

“Excuse me,” a redheaded deputy mumbled, and I twisted to let him by. He handed a small tape player to his boss and retreated.

In a moment, Cougar’s breezy recorded voice filled
the room. “This is Jason. You know what to do.” Along beep followed, then a different version of his voice, this one tight and stilted, announced the time and date. “Please state your name and badge number for the record.”

“John Angelino, Special Agent. Badge number BA7803655.”

“Where are you?”

“Um, the back of an ambulance.”

“What are your injuries?”

“I’ve, uh, been shot.”

“Jason Stratton, Special Agent. Badge number AS0514198. I, along with Special Agent Denise Bramhall, found Agent Angelino in the forest behind Frank Barnes’s house as we conducted an early morning raid. He was tied to a tree and unconscious from a small caliber shot to his forehead. Do you remember what occurred just prior to our finding you?”

Angel’s voice cracked. “I, um … I was working undercover in a sting to net Frank Barnes. I’m not sure what happened exactly. I met him at his house for dinner Wednesday night. We had some mahimahi, and I guess it was drugged, because next thing I knew, I was sitting in the snow. I was messed up, couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. Barnes stood over me. He said, ‘Whatever the DEA paid you, son, it wasn’t enough.’ Then he pointed a gun at me and pulled the trigger. I sort of remember my head snapping back, but I didn’t feel anything yet. I
guess I passed out, because the next thing I remember is you and Necie showing up.”

Cougar led him through another series of questions that I realized were meant to show cognizance. Cougar’s voice sounded dull and heavy, perhaps toneless to a stranger, but it was stark to the ears of someone who knew him. My admiration for him swelled when I realized how smart he’d been, and how much strength it must’ve taken. He’d all but wrapped Barnes up with a bow and hand delivered him to the DA.

A deputy led Barnes away to be fingerprinted. He gave me a searching look when he passed, but I turned my head. We briefed the captain and talked among ourselves for a moment.

Finally, I spotted an empty desk and sat behind it to write out my report.

I was nearly done fifteen minutes later when the squad room door burst open and a disheveled, wild-eyed Grady barreled inside.

“Necie!” he cried, and I think every cop in the building reached for his piece.

“It’s okay,” I said, jumping up to intercept him. Grabbing his arm, I dragged Grady to a corner. I dreaded the scene to come, but saw no way to avoid it. I didn’t want my co-workers to see us fight.

“I called the office when I woke up and found you gone,” he said. “They told me you were here. Something
about a wreck, so I called a cab—”

Taking his hands, I launched into a feverish explanation. “Grady, let me tell you what happened. My defroster was broken, so I took your car. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the damages—”

“Necie—”

“We got Barnes, but his driver rammed the Porsche when we were chasing them. I think—”

“Necie!” he said, louder.

Heads turned in our direction and Grady flushed. He ran a hand through his rumpled blond hair, then surprised me by taking my face in his hands. In a hushed voice, he said, “Baby, I don’t care about the car. I care about you. Are you okay?”

The concern in his eyes was so unexpected … for a moment, I simply gaped at him, my explanation dying on my lips. Then I smiled.

It was Grady’s turn to look startled. He grinned and stroked my cheek with his thumb. “It’s been a long time since you smiled at me like that,” he said softly. “It still makes my heart go crazy.”