The Last Execution (8 page)

Winded, he dropped to the ground to catch his breath. When he looked up, Ellen Rosen stood over him.

“What are you doing down there?” She knelt beside him and grasped his arms. Her cheeks were red from running against the wind. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I ran out of steam.” She was the last person he expected to see.

“You must’ve been in the zone. I called your name again and again.” She leaned over, placing her hands on her knees. “I couldn’t run you down.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Rosen. I didn’t hear you.”

“Obviously.” She laughed and patted herself on the chest. “I’m out of breath. May I join you for a minute?”

“Sure.” He moved over to give her a spot in the shade.

“It’s Ellen. Please. Ms. Rosen makes me feel old.” She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned forward to touch her toes.

“Okay. Ellen.” She was quietly attractive. Funny, he hadn’t noticed before. “You’re anything but old.”

“I’ll be fifty-five soon.” Her cheeks flushed at his comment. “I’m glad your leg is better.”

She’d supplied her own explanation about his labored walk at work. “Yeah. Better each day.”

Instead of leaving, he kicked his legs out in front of him and joined her in a stretch.

Chapter Six

Tuesday, April 27, 1:30 p.m.

To call Leigh’s behavior restrained during the update meeting and on the ride to the lab would’ve been the understatement of the century. J.T. didn’t question her. If she had problems with family law, he intended to stay out of it. Past experience had taught him family troubles meant somebody got hurt.

He drove around to the back lot and parked, still respecting her silence. When he turned the ignition off, she caught his hand in hers and rubbed her thumb across his slightly swollen knuckles. Flames licked up his arm.

“Did you apply a cold compress to this?” She tightened her grip when he tried to pull away.

“No. The pusher needed the ice.”

“Pusher? You made a drug arrest last night?” She perked up with the question.

“No. I helped the locals stop a runner.” J.T. seriously needed his hand back, and she seriously needed to stop rubbing. Warm and soft, her touch sent those flames from his arm straight to his dick.

Shit.

He didn’t need to see the hint of vulnerability behind her blue eyes today.
Or ever.
He was a pushover for women with problems. Add the fact she had trouble brewing, and you might as well tattoo the word “sucker” across his—

She pressed a finger on a particularly sore knuckle. “Ow.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Sorry.” His brain scrambled. “We better get inside.” Thank God, she released his hand.

The autopsy wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow. J.T. wanted to check on the condition of the bullet right away. They signed in, picked up their visitor’s tags, and started back to the lab. Their interview with Faith Sanders last night still bothered him.

“Why do you think Mrs. Sanders lied to us about the abuse?”

“She’s ashamed. Doesn’t want anyone to know her husband was capable of doing such despicable things.”

“The guy’s dead. He can’t hurt her anymore.” J.T. didn’t get the reasoning. “Why not tell the truth?”

“The bastard beat the hell out of her. That shit’s demoralizing enough without other people knowing.” Leigh’s eyes instantly fired laser blue flames. “Would you tell if you were her?”

“Hell, I don’t know.” J.T. stepped back at her intense anger. “Don’t ask me. I’m a guy.”

“Exactly. There’s no way you’d understand.” She spit the words at him. “Denial is common in abused women. When you trust someone and they hurt you mentally or physically, the shame and embarrassment can be overwhelming. It’s a huge obstacle to overcome. The bastard probably tried to convince her the beatings were all her fault. These women are made to feel they’re lacking or unworthy. Mental torture can be as damaging as physical.”

J.T. ignored the urge to tell her to back off. He wasn’t sure who they were talking about anymore. Her tirade ended when she whirled and stormed into the women’s restroom, leaving him with his jaw hanging and a bunch of frickin’ questions running through his mind. Like where the hell did the anger come from?

She’d been different since her meeting with the attorney. Withdrawn, angry, and defensive. The heat from her fury hadn’t been aimed directly at him, but he was tempted to check for blisters.

J.T. blew out a sigh of relief at not having to deal with another of her outbursts when she and Willem Heintz showed up at the same time. He’d swear that somewhere, somehow, abuse had touched her. She’d added a whole new layer of mystery to her persona.

He couldn’t question her ability to separate her personal and professional feelings, because lately, he’d done a piss-poor job of keeping his own shit straight.

Willem shook J.T.’s hand and then Leigh’s. In his opinion, Willem held on to her longer than necessary.

“Good to see you again. The bullet’s under the microscope. We’re ready when you are.”

“Then let’s get to it.” J.T. didn’t like the casual manner with which Willem tucked Leigh’s fingers into the crook of his arm and walked her down the brightly lit hall. The two of them chatted and left him to follow. Irritation stung and spread across his skin like poison ivy.

Willem released Leigh and hit the button to open the swinging doors. An icy blast of air cooled J.T.’s skin, ending his daydream where he’d jerked Leigh away from the lecherous technician. A couple of white-coated techs raised their eyes from what they were working on, and one joined them at the front table.

“Pull up the bullet for us,” Willem instructed the young man.

An image appeared on one of the computers. As expected, the damage made the damn thing unrecognizable.

“What can you tell us?” J.T. asked.

“We can’t identify the weapon with any conviction,” Willem answered.

“If I find the rifle?” J.T.’s experience warned him against getting his hopes up.

“There’s not enough striation to tie this bullet to a particular rifle barrel. Wouldn’t hold up in court.”

“Send all four bullets to Virginia.”

“I expected as much.” Willem passed a clipboard over with the work order filled out for J.T. to sign.

“Thanks for your help.” J.T. turned toward the door.

“I’ll walk out with you.” Willem sidled up next to Leigh.

“We’ll find our way. We’ve taken up enough of your time.” Leigh brushed past J.T.

He found her waiting for him in the hall. “I have an appointment this afternoon. Will you drop me at my car?”

****

Tuesday, April 27, 6:00 p.m.

Leigh picked up one of Ethan’s shirts, straightened out the wrinkles, and added it to the stack her mother had started. She stopped folding clothes and leaned back, her gaze on the pile of clean laundry. She’d shared her conversation with Jason’s attorney with her mother and father. They’d already been through so much with her, dumping more crap on them seemed unfair.

“I hired my own lawyer today. Someone to fight for me.”

“Why didn’t you let one of us go with you?” Her father kept his voice low.

“You guys already do too much for me.” She patted the laundry. “Like this.”

“Nothing we’re not happy to do.” He dismissed her statement with a shake of his head. “Your attorney, what’s her name?”

“Karen Parker.”

“This Ms. Parker, she specializes in children’s rights?” He glanced toward the den where Ethan lay sprawled on the rug. His favorite cartoon had captured his attention.

“Children and parental rights. I’m confident the Carrington name and fortune won’t intimidate her.” Leigh’s parents were deeply involved in her and Ethan’s life. She held nothing back. “Legally, Jason has no claim on Ethan. Tomorrow, Ms. Parker will speak to Morgan Anderson and reiterate my position.” Leigh rubbed her temple where a headache rode right under the surface. “I don’t get it. What does Jason really want?”

Leigh’s dad bolted from his chair. “The SOB better not come on my property, not after all he’s done.” Pink flushed high on his cheeks, and his hands flexed into fists.

Leigh blinked back emotion swelling behind her eyes and in her chest. Her father’s anger reminded her of the last time she’d heard this much rage in his voice. He’d stood over her in the hospital, murmured soothing words while tears cascaded down his face. She’d never seen him cry before or since. That her stupidity had caused so much pain and anguish ripped her heart open.

“I should’ve killed him,” he whispered to no one.

Leigh went to him, clasping his hands in hers. “Dad, don’t even think such thoughts. We’ll get through this.” She laid her head on his chest. The strength she drew from him had kept her going more than once. “We’ll all keep an eye out for Jason. If he tries to come near...well...I’m sort of hoping he’ll violate his probation. Then I’ll send him back to prison.”

“Exactly what can he do?”

Leigh’s mother had remained quiet until now. The heart and soul of the family, she tended to organize and analyze while Leigh and her dad were quick to act.

“I honestly don’t know. I told him to go to hell.”

“Can they force you to agree to a paternity test?” her mother asked.

“Not according to Karen Parker. If they find a judge who’ll order one, we’ll fight it. If Anderson contacts me again, I’m to refer him to her.”

“We don’t scare easily.” Her dad sounded much calmer than before.

“Anderson threatened scandal. I said bring it on.”

Her mother reached across to the laundry basket, picked up one of Ethan’s shirts, and held it to her chest.

“You’re warning us, right?” Her mother frowned deeply. “They’re friends with Atlanta’s most important people. One of these could be a judge who’ll allow a lawsuit.”

“It’s a possibility we have to face.” Leigh’s spirits sunk even lower. “And who know what else he’ll try.”

****

Tuesday, April 27, 7:00 p.m
.

Jason parked his Lexus GX on the side street of Woodland Park. Anywhere else, he’d turn off the engine and roll down the windows. Not here. He left the car and the air-conditioner running. Neither he nor his car belonged in this disgusting part of town. He’d spent a long time living with drug dealers, thieves, and cold-blooded killers. You couldn’t trust them. Vermin. Every one of them made him sick to his stomach.

The Carrington money and Jason’s penchant for using his fists had kept him from bending over for every swinging dick in prison. He’d fought his way out from under his share of sweaty, stinking bastards. They’d mistakenly thought because of his looks he’d be an easy fuck. When he met Vick Coventry, life changed for the better. The desperate-for-cash con took Jason under his wing and became Jason’s protector-enforcer. Money talked louder inside than it did out here on the streets.

Vick had been on parole for the past two years. Before he got out, he’d used his contacts outside to keep track of Leigh. Since his release, he’d remained on Jason’s payroll, making regular visits to bring information on Leigh and her bastard kid. Jason knew everything about her and her parents. She had no secrets from him.

He’d started planning how he’d kill her the day the handcuffs snapped around his wrists. First, he wanted to play with her, spend time making her squirm. The bitch thought she could walk away from him. Tell him not to call or come around anymore. Nobody fuckin’ told him what to do. Nobody dismissed him. Especially not a woman.

“Shit.” Startled by the door opening, he reached for his gun. “You trying to get shot?” His hand relaxed when Vick settled in the seat.

“I taught you not to get caught off guard. You gotta be faster than the bastard coming after you or you’re dead.” Vick leaned his head back and breathed in deeply through his nose. “New car smell. Better than a clean woman.”

“Turns you on, does it?” Jason hated that eventually he’d kill the closest thing to a friend he’d ever had. Strictly to clean up any possible mess, Vick would have to die.

“What’s up with the SUV? You’d pick up more pussy in a sports car.” Vick grinned. “Unless you’re into soccer moms.”

“I’m buying a booster seat next and having it installed. This car shouts ‘I’ll be a good father’ to anyone interested.” Jason marveled at having to explain the simplest things to Vick. He was street wise, and at forty-five years old, he could snap your neck with ease. Nobody on the yard out-bench-pressed Vick, but he was dumber than the weights he lifted.

Vick smiled at Jason like a proud papa. “I get it. Good thinking.”

“You find out why she’s riding with the Feds?” Jason’s patience waned. Small talk with Vick was a waste of time.

“Yeah. She’s on loan. They’re hunting that sniper. Been on all the news stations.”

“Good. Between the government and us, we’ll keep her off balance. You buy the bike?”

“Yeah. I drove all the way to Alpharetta and paid cash at a Wal-Mart. It’s ready to be left on Grandma and Grandpa’s doorstep.”

“And my stand in?” Jason removed an envelope of cash and a small sack from the console. He handed both to Vick, worried that he didn’t understand the plan. “Are you sure you can pull off both projects on the same day?”