Sword of the Raven (5 page)

Vanessa’s sobs subsided into sniffles. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into my mess, Lanie. Are you scared?”

“Nope,” Delaney lied. She knew what life was like trapped behind steel bars…and didn’t want any part of it. “Archer will bail us out.”

“I’m
terrified.”
Van scooted closer. “Listen,” she whispered. “When we get to jail, tell everybody I’m
your
bitch, okay?”

Nervous giggles caught in Delaney’s throat. “You have no problem defending yourself, Babe Ruth. Besides, once they run the serial number, they’ll know the gun isn’t yours. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Vanessa rested her head on Delaney’s shoulder. “You’re the best, Lanie. The sister of my heart.”

“Aww, likewise, Van.”

“Hey.” Vanessa straightened. “What are you doing in town? You said you were staying at Archer’s vacation cabin until Sunday.”

Delaney’s thoughts arrowed to Rowan, making her skin tingle. Great.
Not.
“Wait until you hear what happened to me last night.”

Zack returned and climbed into the driver’s seat, and Delaney lowered her voice to a whisper. “It involves a naked dish of Scottish man candy.”

That bombshell caused the distraction Delaney was hoping for.

“What?
Seriously?” Van hissed.
“You?
I don’t believe it. Are you all right?”

If you defined “all right” as turned-on by a psycho, and then totally weirded out. “Mostly, yeah. I’ll fill you in when we have more privacy.” She grinned. “Up for pushing Zack’s buttons?”

Van grinned in return. “Always.”

Delaney started singing the first line of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” and Vanessa joined in. They belted out repeat choruses all way to the station, watching Zack’s neck muscles winch tauter with every passing mile.

Twenty minutes later, the patrol car parked in the crowded downtown lot beside Portland’s Central Precinct. A tense Zack escorted Delaney into the massive high-rise while Kim escorted Vanessa. Delaney’s guts twisted. She’d walked in here hundreds of times for work, and to visit Connor and Zack. But her final trip to pick up Connor’s things last year had been wrenchingly personal.

Every cop shop she’d seen during her career was mostly interchangeable. Industrial paint and utilitarian furniture framed a racket of ringing phones, clacking keyboards and multiple conversations, with a buzz of adrenaline overlaying the odors of sweat and stale coffee.

The humiliation of fingerprinting and mug shots completed, Delaney and Vanessa were re-cuffed. The admittance processing officer returned them to where Zack and Jason waited at the front desk.

Delaney braced herself. Stripped of her freedom and locked in a cage...not on her list of fun.

Keep it together. Deep breaths. You’ll be able to call Archer soon, and he’ll spring you.

 Zack’s cell phone pinged from inside his front pants’ pocket. No frivolous ring tones for him. Watching her like he expected an imminent escape attempt, he tugged out the phone. “Walker.” His eyes narrowed on Delaney’s face and he frowned. “Yes, she is.” A startled pause. “I’m not sure I heard correctly, sir.” His frown morphed into a piercing glower. “Absolutely, Captain.”

He hung up, shoved the phone into his pocket. “Hold Ms. Morgan’s and Ms. Clare’s paperwork until further notice,” he snapped at the desk sergeant.

Now what?
Nobody
in the PD department would defend her, much less Connor’s former captain.

Zack grasped Delaney’s upper arm with controlled strength. She’d only seen him lose his temper once—with her brother. Zack Walker’s unleashed fury wasn’t an experience she cared to relive. “You’re trouble on legs, Ms. Morgan.” He propelled her down the corridor and into the elevator, with Jason and a subdued Vanessa following.

“You’re the one who insisted on arresting me.” In spite of her inner turmoil, Delaney’s anxiety eased somewhat when Zack viciously stabbed the button for an office floor instead of the detention cells. Any call that delayed their incarceration couldn’t be all bad.

The elevator surged upward in a mercifully short trip. Zack marched her past a long row of frosted glass doors before stopping in front of one that read:
Detective Zachary W. Walker.
Connor’s name had been removed, the glass as pristine as if he’d never existed.

Zack turned the knob, and their merry little band filed inside the sage green room. He pointed at two sturdy black armchairs angled in front of the dark wooden desk. “Sit.”

Being in this office again—with all traces of her brother erased—hit Delaney with an emotional hailstorm. She bristled. “Sorry, I flunked obedience school.”

“Sit down.” His jaw tightened.
“Please.”

“How about uncuffing us first? They hurt.”

Zack’s teeth ground together, but he stepped behind her and opened the left cuff. Her cramped arms dropped to her sides, heavy handcuffs dangling from her right wrist. Kim did the same for Vanessa.

Zack nodded. “Now plant your butts.”

Delaney dropped into the seat next to the wall, Vanessa taking the one beside her. Kim snapped the free end of Vanessa’s cuffs onto the chair arm while Zack shackled Delaney to hers. He leaned close. “Kim and I have to attend a short briefing. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Ha, ha. Funny as diuretic punch at a nursing home party.”

Zack and Jason strode out. The door banged shut. Keys rattled and then the lock clicked.

Delaney turned to Vanessa. “You’re awfully quiet. And, yikes, greener than the walls. You okay?”

“Ugh.” Van slumped, one hand pressed to her abdomen. “I feel
really
squicky, especially after the elevator ride. I shouldn’t have chugged champagne on an empty stomach. I’m afraid I’m gonna hurl.”

“We’re talented, but I don’t think even we could wrestle our way into a bathroom stall manacled to chairs. Slow, relaxing breaths, girlfriend.”

Delaney’s gaze ricocheted around the space. Tall metal file cabinets loomed like sentries in the far corner, bare except for a pristine coffeemaker. The only other furniture was Zack’s desk and rolling computer chair. Naturally, the glossy desktop was clear, save for a ruthlessly organized in/out box, multi-line telephone, and a closed laptop.

Delaney stood and dragged her heavy chair forward. Straining against the weight, she ignored the stabbing pains in her arm to wrestle it around Zack’s desk. “Aha.” She grabbed his garbage can off the floor with her left hand, stretching on tiptoe to pass the container over the desk to Vanessa. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” The gratitude on her friend’s face turned to horror when she noticed Delaney wrenching her chair closer to Zack’s computer. “Oh no!
You wouldn’t!
If you get caught…”

“Hello…handcuffed to the furniture here. I’m already incarcerated.”

“You always were short on patience, Lanie.”

She snorted. “We can’t afford to wait around for patience.” She booted up the unit. “Patience is useless, and screws you over every time. Besides, what difference does one more transgression make at this point?”

“Hacking into police files? Probably an additional five years!”

“Connor had a brilliant future at sixteen…scholarships, NFL interest, potential fortune and fame. He abandoned it all for me.” Delaney opened the laptop. “He sacrificed
everything,
worked his ass off doing menial labor to support us and never complained. Not once. There’s
nothing
I wouldn’t do for him.”

Vanessa’s complexion paled another two shades. “I know the hell you both went through as kids. And what happened to him last year was a complete screw job. But your brother didn’t sacrifice his future for you to throw yours away—”

“Ever heard of ‘don’t get mad, get even?’ Fate gave me this chance. Scoot over by the door and tell me when you hear Super Cop returning.”

Van moaned, but complied.

At least being a lookout hopefully kept her friend’s mind off barfing. Delaney pecked keys with her left index finger. One sure thing about stick-to-the-rules-players like Zack…they were predictable. Comforting in a strange way. During their thirteen month relationship, she’d always known where she stood. Even when he’d stomped all over her heart, he’d given her honest reasons.

Which hadn’t made his desertion hurt any less.

She knew enough personal details to figure out his passwords. After only four tries, she guessed correctly. “Got it!”

Van swallowed audibly. “Shh! Keep it down!”

“Let’s see what the bastards are hiding.” Delaney accessed the restricted law enforcement database and tapped in Connor’s social security number. Rapidly scanning the screen, she memorized the scrolling words without digesting them. Analyses could wait until later. She immersed herself in the avalanche of information, unaware of passing minutes.

Until one horrifying sentence stopped her cold, index finger frozen on the arrow key. She read it again.

No! Please…don’t let it be true!

Delaney,
Rowan MacLachlan’s rolling burr suddenly warned inside her head.
Shut the computer down, lass.

She stood paralyzed, barely able to breathe.

Delaney! Move!
Rowan’s sharp mental thrust spiked pain through her temples, blurring her vision.
Shut it down! Now!

She blinked, looked up. As the room zoomed back into focus, she started to shake.

“Delaney, what’s
wrong
with you?” Vanessa whispered frantically. Van had maneuvered her chair back into position and rocked it forward to slap Zack’s desktop, inches from Delaney’s immobile hand. All while Delaney had been zoned out—for how long? “I said
four
times, Zack and Jason are coming! I hear them talking, they’re at the door now! Shut it down!”

The lock scraped, and the men’s low conversation hummed through the frosted glass panel. The doorknob turned.

Pulse pounding, Delaney punched computer keys. “Not going to make it!” Without conscious effort, her mind reached out toward that deep Scottish brogue. “Help! Need to stall!”

“Stall how?” Vanessa hissed in panic. “It’s too late!”

The doorknob halted mid-turn. “Hang on,” Zack said. “I’m thirsty. I gotta make a pit stop at the water fountain before we go in.”

“Me too,” Jason replied. “That’s what we get for jogging five flights of stairs instead of snagging the elevator.” His voice grew distant. “Keeps you in shape, though, old man.”

Zack’s guffaw echoed from down the hallway. “Fit enough to save your rookie ass.”

Delaney erased all traces of her activity and closed the browser, then clicked
log off.
She snapped the lid shut.

By the time she wrangled her chair into place, her mouth was drier than a probate law textbook and a rivulet of sweat was trickling down her spine.

The men strode into the room mere seconds later. Neither wore a happy face. Zack’s attention arrowed to Delaney’s cuffed wrist. “What kind of stunt did you try to pull?”

Still in shock, she glanced down, surprised to see raw, bloodied scrapes around her right cuff. She felt nothing. “I…ah…Vanessa got nauseated, and I had to wrestle your garbage can to her.” Her foot nudged Vanessa’s, and Van clutched the can in her lap and groaned.

Jason leaned over Vanessa. “Do you need the restroom, ma’am?”

“Um…” Van eased her head up. “Just give me a minute. I think my stomach is finally settling.”

Jason left and quickly returned with a plastic cup of water for Vanessa, and a first aid kit, which he handed to Zack.

Zack freed and gently bandaged Delaney’s wrist as she battled silent agony. Not because of her injury. Other than a throbbing headache, her body was still numb.
Connor.
Her brother was in terrible danger. And unaware of it.

And she was either seriously sick…or losing her grip on sanity.

Jason unlocked Vanessa’s cuffs. “Ms. Clare, Mr. Dumont has been persuaded not to press charges against you in lieu of being cited for soliciting sexual acts. Since you weren’t in actual possession of the gun, and your fingerprints weren’t found on it, you’re free to go.”

Delaney surged upright on jellied legs.
Thank heaven!
“Van, when you get downstairs can you post my bail on the weapons charge? I’ll pay you back. Zack, I need my purse, my phone—”

“No bail, Delaney.” Graven-faced, the usually unfazeable cop clamped a not-quite-steady hand on her shoulder. “You can’t leave. I’ve been ordered to take you to Wilsonville Correctional Institution.”

Vanessa gasped.
“The prison?
Ohmigod, what happened in that briefing?”

Shock leaked through Delaney’s numbness. The new super-max penitentiary housed dangerous offenders and prisoners the court deemed likely to attempt escape. Who was pulling strings behind the scenes? And why? “It’s okay, Van.”

“I am
not
leaving you to face this by yourself—”

“Go. I’ll be fine, really. It’s easier for me to do it alone.”

Vanessa embraced her in a hard hug. “Is there anybody I can call, anything I can do?”

“Call Archer. Have him pick you up, then please go home and get some rest. And no more World Series today, all right?”

Vanessa stepped back, shot Zack a killer glare. “If anything happens to her, Chad’s isn’t the only grill my bat can dent.”

He visually returned fire. “I wouldn’t let Delaney get hurt.”

“Could’ve fooled me, you
dick.”
Van reluctantly accompanied Detective Kim out of the room.

Zack shook his head. “Sorry, Delaney.”

Just get this ordeal over with.
“I know.”

During the taut thirty-minute drive, she listened to tires thumping the asphalt in time with her pounding head. Neither she nor Zack spoke.

Everything between them had already been said.

Her first sight of the forbidding gray structure was always of wicked razor wire curled atop towering walls. Spiked iron gates parted to let Zack’s Ferrari through, then clanked shut behind it.

Zack grimly escorted her through the main door metal detectors, down a passageway and inside a small “receiving room.” A stern female guard strode in, and Delaney propped her palms on the rough, cold cinder block wall to endure the by now familiar pat-down. The fact that Zack was watching this time made it only slightly more degrading.