Watch Your Back (56 page)

‘I turned it in to Ballistics. They got a hit. A John Doe pulled out of the Severn River a few months later. I went to the ME’s office to request the autopsy report. That’s where I met Ruby Gomez. The man who’d been killed by the gun in my possession was my father, John Hudson.’

Clay exchanged a wary look with Novak. ‘You think,’ Clay said, ‘you killed your father?’

‘At first I did. My father was an addict. He beat my mother. I hated him, but I didn’t think I could’ve killed him. I didn’t remember doing so. But I lost more than a day and I didn’t know.’

‘So you consulted an attorney?’ Novak asked. ‘When? Why?’

‘I didn’t. Ruby set it up for me on Sunday, and I went with it. Thorne’s given me good advice. He’d be shitting a ring right now if he knew I was talking to the FBI without him here.’

‘We can wait for him,’ Novak offered.

‘No. I’m done with this. I’ve got the witness who saw me drugged and a sketch artist waiting at the station. I want to know who it was that drugged me. Because that person probably killed my father.’

‘What does this have to do with Stevie Mazzetti?’ Clay asked.

Hudson started pacing again. ‘It didn’t make sense that I’d be left with the gun. If one of my father’s dealers had killed him, there was no need to bring me into it. I knew it had to be something bigger. And the one thing that happened that same day was big.’

‘The murder of Paul Mazzetti and his son,’ Clay murmured.

‘And a convenience store clerk,’ Hudson said bitterly. ‘I can’t forget about her, either. Ruby and I viewed the footage of the robbery. I’m convinced the man who shot three people that day was my father.’

Clay’s chest seized up. ‘They caught the man who did those murders. He’s serving life.’

‘They caught someone, but I don’t think it was the right guy. The man in the store surveillance video walked like my father. And he wore my hat. Which, along with his things and a matchbook from the bar where I was drugged, was returned to me this past Saturday. The same day Mazzetti gets attacked – twice. Coincidence? Hell no.’

Clay shook his head, the ramifications too many to parse. ‘You’re kidding me.’

‘I wish I were. This is a nightmare. When my father disappeared from our lives, I figured he’d OD’d somewhere or made the wrong person mad. This . . . this is worse than I ever imagined. This is going to break my mother’s heart. It’s already broken the hearts of Stevie Mazzetti and the family of the store’s cashier.’

‘Why didn’t you tell this to JD Fitzpatrick?’ Novak asked.

‘Because until I got an ID on the guy who drugged me, it was all conjecture and I had the weapon. I’m a cop, Novak. I know how this works. And with all the dirty cops we’ve had popping up all over the place lately, I figured people would assume I was guilty before asking any questions. Thorne advised me to file the complaint so that whatever evidence I gathered from here on out would have an evidentiary chain.’

‘Why do you think your father robbed the store and killed three people?’ Novak asked.

‘When Ruby and I studied the store’s video, we noticed my father looking at a photo on his phone. It was me, tied to a chair in the hotel room where I woke up the next morning.’

‘You think he was coerced into robbing the store,’ Novak said.

Hudson swallowed hard and when he spoke, his voice trembled. ‘I think he was coerced into murder. He didn’t take any money. But he did make sure that Paul Mazzetti was dead.’

‘Did your father have a connection to Paul Mazzetti?’ Novak asked. ‘Did he prosecute him on any drug charges, maybe?’

‘No. My father had gone to jail twice already, once for assaulting my mother and once for possession. But neither time was Paul Mazzetti involved. It doesn’t make sense.’

Oh God
. Pieces of conversation filtered through Clay’s mind. It suddenly made sense to him. His stomach pitched, bile rising to burn his throat. It made perfect, hideous sense.

He heard Stevie’s voice, choked up and furious.
I bought into it. I let Robinette manipulate me, even though I knew in my gut, in my heart, that he’d done it
.

That made you angry
, Clay had said and Stevie’s voice had broken.

It sure as hell did. That’s why I kept pushing to reopen the case. Robinette got away with it. That he’s crawled out from under his rock
now
, that he’s started this vendetta against me for killing Levi? It’s outrageous. The man is insane
.

No, not insane. And not a retaliation against the death of the son Robinette had served up as a sacrificial scapegoat.

‘Dear God,’ Clay whispered as it all became crystal clear.

‘What?’ Novak demanded. ‘Clay, you’re white as a sheet. Are you all right?’

Clay shook his head slowly. ‘No.’ He might never be all right again.

Stevie had retreated into herself for
eight years
believing her husband and son had been victims of a random act of violence. For
eight years
she’d carried the guilt of putting her son in the wrong place at the wrong time because she’d been too busy to pick him up at day care.

Too busy trying to put Todd Robinette away for murder.

An effort she’d abruptly abandoned to the shock and unparalleled grief of losing her family.

What would happen when she found out the truth? That they’d been murdered on purpose. To throw her off Robinette’s trail. Because she wouldn’t let Robinette get away with it?

It would destroy her.

Clay slowly came to his feet. ‘We need to get Hudson to the station. We need his witness to tell the artist exactly who she saw.’

The artist would draw a picture of Robinette. Of that Clay had no doubt.
And then I’ll kill the SOB. I’ll rip his head off with my bare hands
. And god
damn
the consequences.

Tuesday, March 18, 4.30
P.M.

Sam found Ruby waiting with Thorne outside the conference room the sketch artist had been summoned to that morning. ‘Where’s Kayla?’ Sam demanded.

‘In there with Officer Damon, the artist,’ Ruby said. ‘He had only a few minutes to spare between appointments so I told them to go ahead.’

Thorne took one look at him, and the two men with him, and frowned. ‘You told them everything,’ Thorne said flatly. ‘Without waiting for me.’

‘I did,’ Sam confirmed. ‘I appreciate all your support. I really do. But it was time to tell. And these two think they know who Kayla saw that night.’

Thorne looked at Maynard, then Novak, seeming unsurprised to see them both. ‘I figured we’d meet up sooner or later. You want to dish? Who do you think Kayla saw?’

Maynard shook his head, his expression grim. ‘Not yet.’

At least Maynard looked almost normal, physically anyway. When he’d grown so pale earlier, Sam had first thought he’d kicked him too hard and done some permanent damage. That wasn’t the case, although whatever this was about, it was damn bad. Sam had seen a lot of men get bad news and none had ever looked like Maynard had.

‘You were smart to have your client report his assault,’ Novak said to Thorne. ‘Gave him just enough credibility to defuse a tense situation.’

Sam winced when Ruby feathered her fingers over his jaw. She gave Novak an angry look. ‘You hit him?’

‘
I
hit him,’ Maynard said. ‘But he hit me first.’

‘You men are worse than children,’ she said. ‘Did you at least put ice on your jaw?’

‘I did,’ Sam said, smiling because she sounded like his mom. ‘I’m fine, Ruby.’

‘He was more worried that I was coming after you and Miss Richards,’ Maynard added. His voice was tinny, like he forced it from his chest, but the words were the perfect ones to say.

Ruby’s eyes softened in the way Sam had so quickly come to anticipate. ‘That’s sweet.’

Cheeks heating, Sam had no idea how to answer, but was saved from having that fact known by the opening of the conference room door.

Sam’s artist friend, Damon, had an odd, wary look on his face, blinking when he saw the crowd that had assembled. ‘You’re all going to want to see this,’ he said.

Kayla’s eyes widened as the group filed in. Sam patted her shoulder. ‘You okay?’

She nodded. ‘I hope I did all right. The artist seemed . . . surprised.’

‘Let’s have it,’ Maynard said tightly. Everything about the PI was tight, like he was ready to explode. Novak must have sensed it too, because he put a steadying hand on Maynard’s arm.

Damon flipped back the cover of his sketchpad and held up the picture he’d drawn.

It was like someone had tossed a bomb in the room.

Thorne’s jaw dropped. Novak swore. Ruby’s hand flew up to cover her mouth in horror.

And Maynard crumpled, only managing to hit a chair on the way down because Novak and Thorne grabbed him.

Sam leaned in, stared at the picture.
Oh . . . Oh no
. As recognition dawned, Sam understood both the significance of the face that Kayla had described and the horror that filled the room.

Ruby turned her face into his chest, silently weeping. Sam stroked her hair, unable to give any comfort.
I keep thinking it can’t get worse
. But it kept seeming to.

Tuesday, March 18, 6.45
P.M.

Stevie paused, her keycard poised over the door to her room at the Peabody Hotel. She looked over her shoulder at Joseph, who seemed normal. Totally, unflappably normal.

Except that he wasn’t. She didn’t know what was wrong. But something definitely was.

It can’t be Clay
. If he were hurt, Joseph would have taken her to him at the ER.

‘What is it?’ she demanded. ‘I swear to God, Joseph . . .’

He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I was told to bring you here, so I did. You go in your room, I’ll go next door. Novak and Coppola are in position, same as last night. Just in case.’

‘Fine. Thanks for the ride.’ Stevie ran the key through the reader and stepped through the door, thinking she had time for a quick shower before getting back to work. She’d been thinking about the witnesses she’d interviewed while investigating the murder of Robinette’s wife the first time around. She had time to see at least one tonight. She’d start with—

She stopped, the heady aroma of flowers filling her head. Clay had filled the room with roses. Dozens and dozens of roses in every imaginable color. The table in the front room was set ‘fancy’, as Cordelia would call it – a white linen tablecloth with china and silver and crystal wine goblets. A bottle of champagne chilled in a silver ice bucket.

A single rose lay across her plate.

She picked it up carefully, then realized there were no thorns. He’d stripped them away. She sniffed the rose, then looked up to find him in the doorway to the bedroom, watching her.

‘I missed you,’ she said quietly.

He smiled. ‘I ran you a hot tub. I figured after riding a horse today, you’d need one.’

She laughed. ‘It’ll probably be worse tomorrow.’

His eyes flickered, the emotion gone so quickly she almost missed it. ‘I’ll give you another massage. You won’t feel a single thing tomorrow.’

She crossed the room to him, walking into arms that came around her so tightly that she had to suck in a quick breath. ‘What is all this? The flowers and the table?’

‘I realized that I wanted to take you on a date,’ he said lightly. ‘But I can’t right now, so I thought you could use a little romance. First a bath, then I’ll have dinner sent up.’

She pulled back, searched his face. Saw nothing amiss. Still, she felt a knot of dread form in her gut. Something was very wrong. ‘Okay,’ she said.

The tub in the bathroom was enormous, big enough for two. Which was apparently exactly what he had in mind because he stripped them both to the skin, scooped her into his arms, and lowered her into the steaming water before joining her there.

He positioned her between his legs, her back to his chest. ‘So,’ he said, ‘tell me about this afternoon. How did it go?’

She told him about her inept attempt at riding and that she and Cordelia had looked at real estate listings online and that her little girl seemed to have started believing that she was more than Stevie’s consolation prize.

All the while he touched her, long sweeping strokes, soaping up her legs, her arms, taking care to avoid the stitches from Saturday, which were finally starting to heal. She decided that she’d been looking for trouble earlier because things had been calm all afternoon, that nothing was wrong. And when he began to wash her breasts, she decided that Clay was just fine.

She stopped thinking when his hands stroked up her inner thighs, his thumbs teasing her most intimately. She leaned back, tilting her head to the side, giving him access to her neck. He took full advantage, running his lips up over her skin, murmuring praises that made her sigh.

His hands were gentle, as was the first orgasm he coaxed from her body, like riding the swell of a wave. She stretched, arching her back as she pressed the back of her head into his shoulder, then relaxed. ‘Mmm.’

His arms tightened around her when she started to slide into the water. ‘You liked that?’

‘I did.’ Then she surprised him by turning in his arms and straddling him. She kissed him as sumptuously as he’d just made her feel. ‘I thought of you, all afternoon.’

His hands found her buttocks, began to knead, his lips curving. ‘Did you now?’

‘I did. Especially when I was riding. I kept thinking of you.’ She tilted her hips, finding his erection, sliding down on him until she’d taken all of him in. It was his turn to arch and she ran her hands over his chest, delighting in the feel of him, inside and out.

She began to move, and he groaned, both arms reaching back so that he could grip the sides of the tub, defining the muscles in his pecs and arms. His head fell back, his eyes closed, as she rode him, slowly at first, then harder and faster. He came on a shout, his hips punching up, sending water sloshing over the sides of the tub. She dug her nails into his shoulders to hold on until his body stilled, watching him as he fought to fill his lungs.

He lifted his head, blinked his eyes open. ‘You didn’t . . .’