Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11)

Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11) Page 24

“We’re wasting time,” Trace responded. “I’ll slip it on when we get there.”

“No, you put it on now.” Finn backed the car out of the slot and threw it into drive.

“Three blocks straight ahead, then left.” Trace gave instructions as he dove over the seat to get the vest from the floor. He had it on before Finn reached the corner.

“Make sure the rifle’s loaded,” Finn told him.

“It is,” Trace assured him, even as he double-checked to make certain. “Yes, it is.”

The dispatcher came over the radio. “The bank manager reported that the suspect on the roof is Roy Jones. His wife, Kathy, is inside the bank. She says her estranged husband is waiting for her to come out so he can shoot her. He told her he was going to kill her. She said he’s been threatening her for over a week.”

“I know all about Roy,” Trace said. “He’s a mean mother, and Kathy’s a real sweet woman. I knew there’d be trouble when she finally got up the nerve to leave him.”

“Did she report threats?”

“No. He isn’t bluffing,” he blurted. “If he says he’s going to kill her, then that’s what he’s going to do.”

“We’re not going to let that happen. I’m assuming Kathy is smart enough to stay inside the bank.”

Finn turned the corner and discovered that the bank building was actually eight blocks away, not four. There were three cars in the customer parking lot. One was an old Honda Civic that obviously belonged to Kathy Jones because it was now riddled with bullet holes. All four tires were slashed; the windshield was shattered; and the hood was nearly destroyed.

The roof of the three-story building was flat, and Roy Jones was hunkered down on his belly, the tip of his rifle visible. Finn planned to park at the entrance to the lot so that no other cars could enter, but he hadn’t even put the car in park before Trace jumped out. A bullet hit him square in the chest and he was thrown back. Had he not been wearing his vest, the shot would have killed him. Finn dove across the seat, grabbed the officer by his arm, and pulled him into the car.

“I’m okay,” Trace gasped.

“You stay here,” Finn ordered. “You’ll get your head blown off. Shots fired. Call it in.” He backed the cruiser up a slope next to a cluster of trees. None were tall enough for Finn to climb to get a clear shot, but the branches hung low and obstructed the shooter’s view.

“What are you going to do?” Trace grimaced as he asked the question.

Finn reached for the rifle and extra ammo. “I’m going to shoot the bastard.”

He ran to the cover of the trees. Pressing his back to the tree trunk, he swung the rifle up and took aim. Then he patiently waited.

Roy was shouting his wife’s name, taunting her. “I’ve got enough ammo to kill half the town, Kathy, and I’ll do it while I’m waiting for you to come out.” Several seconds of silence followed and then he shouted again, even more enraged. “You think you can walk out on me?” Still no answer. “I’ll shoot until you come out, Kathy. I already shot a cop.” Now he sounded as though he was boasting. “Here comes a jogger. I’m gonna kill him next.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Finn could see a young man in the distance running along the sidewalk toward the bank. His attention immediately went back to the roof of the building. The rifle tilted in the direction of the runner, then gradually a baseball cap appeared, then an arm and a shoulder. That was all Finn needed. One shot and Roy was down.

It was a hell of a day.

While Lucy and Christopher walked through each bungalow making lists of what needed to be replaced, Peyton was stuck in the business office with mounds of paperwork. Sifting through all the invoices, contracts, change orders, requisition forms, and inventories, she was nearly overwhelmed by the enormity of what they had taken on. Every discrepancy required a phone call, and it seemed no one was available. Automated recordings of very pleasant voices offered to place her on hold while they tended to other callers, and she thought if she had to listen to the mind-numbing, synthesized, wait-your-turn music for one more second, she would go stark raving mad.

Finn walked in just as she was repeatedly slamming the office phone down. On edge and thoroughly frustrated, she saw him and wanted to throw herself into his arms and make crazy love to him. If he kissed her, nothing else would matter. Just Finn. His eyes narrowed and his expression became intense. He knew what she was thinking, she decided. He was staring at her mouth. Oh yes, he knew. For the first time in her life she was going to give in to her fantasy. She wouldn’t tear her clothes off until they were in her bedroom, but that was the only concession she would make.

Her eyes locked on his, and she started to get up. Then Lucy stormed in, stomping all over her fantasy.

“It’s going to take at least a year to get this place in shape.”

“That’s positive thinking,” Peyton said.

“She’s been full of cheer all afternoon,” Christopher remarked dryly as he walked past her and dropped his notepad on an empty desk.

Lucy poked him in the back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Christopher slowly turned around. “I have to explain it to you?”

“Yes, you do.” She was primed for a fight.

“You’ve done nothing but complain. Either get with the program or get out.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. He picked up a phone and punched in the number to get his messages.

Peyton was feeling claustrophobic. She had been sitting at the desk for hours and getting next to nothing done. She stood, arched her back to work out the stiffness, then walked over to Finn who was leaning against the desk with his arms folded across his chest. To a casual observer he looked relaxed. He wasn’t, though. She could feel the tension in him. He looked like he was ready to pounce.

“Are you all right?” She whispered the question.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He snapped the answer.

No, he wasn’t fine. Something was wrong, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, she wasn’t going to probe.

A couple of minutes passed as they watched the verbal tennis match going on between Lucy and Christopher. The second Christopher had hung up the phone, Lucy commenced with the argument. Lucy made some valid points regarding the upgrades she wanted, but Christopher also made a good argument against her choices.

Peyton was trying to think of something to say to stop the dispute when Finn said, “Christopher’s having fun.”

She didn’t believe him until Christopher turned toward his office and she saw the glint in his eyes. Finn was right. He was enjoying himself sparring with Lucy.

“Lucy doesn’t look like she’s having much fun.”

“She’s frustrated,” Finn said, keeping his voice as low as Peyton’s so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“This isn’t about sex,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Did I say it was?”

“You said she was frustrated.”

He laughed, drawing a frown from Lucy before she turned back to Christopher to make yet another point.

“Frustrated because she isn’t winning this round,” Finn explained.

“Oh. I misunderstood.”

Finn glanced over at Peyton. Her face was pink with embarrassment. “I’m just messing with you,” he admitted. “She wants him as much as he wants her.”

“Aha!” Peyton felt vindicated. She nudged him. “Unless you’re a mind reader you can’t know what either one of them wants.”

“I read people for a living, you know.”

She snorted.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he said.

Peyton could almost see the tension easing from his shoulders. His smile was boyish again. “Do you want to swim tonight?” she asked.

No hesitation there. “Yes,” he answered. “And you promised to swim with me.”

“I promised? I don’t know about that. On second thought, maybe we should put it off until tomorrow. You look tired to me.”

“Nice try, Lockhart. You’re swimming, and I’m not at all tired.” Nodding toward Lucy he added, “But your sister looks wiped out.”

Peyton had to agree. Lucy’s face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had been working long hours and needed a break. They all did.

Christopher had reached the door to his office when Peyton called his name. “Want to get a beer with Finn and me?” she asked.

He didn’t have to think about it. “Yeah, let’s do that. I could use a beer.” With a meaningful glance at Lucy, he added, “It’s been a long day.”

“What about me?” Lucy asked.

“You need something stronger,” Peyton told her. “You need nachos and beer.”

“I do,” Lucy said. She perked up the second she heard the word nachos. It was her forbidden indulgence. “I really, really do. I’ll just get my purse.”

Finn put his arm around Peyton’s waist and pulled her closer. He lowered his voice so the other two couldn’t hear. “You have more bad news to give, don’t you?”

“How did you know?”

He pictured her pounding the desk with the office phone. “Just a hunch.”

He pulled keys from his pocket and announced, “I’ll drive. Where are we going?”

Peyton and Lucy answered at the same time. “Reds.”

“You haven’t been banned from that place yet, have you?” Christopher asked Lucy.

She trailed him into the hallway. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he countered. “I was asking a serious question.”

Peyton slipped her hand under Finn’s arm and followed them. “They’re a lovely couple, aren’t they?”

The bar and grill was just a mile away from Bishop’s Cove. On the way out of the resort’s gates, Finn stopped to talk to two guards on duty and noticed the photocopy of a picture of Debi taped to the glass. “Absolutely no entry” was written underneath. That’s not gonna keep the woman out, he thought. She’d walk ten miles of beach to get what she wanted.

Reds was a local hangout. At first glance, it looked like a dive. The walls, painted a dark red, were cracked and the old wooden floor sagged, but the place was clean. There were several flat-screen televisions on the walls, each showing a different sport. The place was packed and every seat was taken, leaving the area around the bar crowded with standing patrons.

The bartender was pouring brews from the tap when they walked in. He turned at the door opening, and his eyes immediately zoned in on the gun at Finn’s side. Setting the full mug on a tray for the waitress, he started toward them with a hand up, signaling them to halt. Finn held up his badge, and the bartender nodded and went back to his job. No one else in the bar noticed the weapon, or if they did, they didn’t care.

A booth at the back of the bar was being cleared, and Lucy elbowed her way through the drinking crowd to get to it before anyone else could. Christopher sat next to her.

Finn was stopped by an older couple. “I know you,” the man said. “You were on television. You did a heck of a thing. That was you, wasn’t it?”

His wife smiled with adoration. “I saw you, too. You were so courageous.”

The man insisted on shaking Finn’s hand before he would allow him to leave.

Peyton whispered, “I told you someone would recognize you.”

“What?”

“You can’t take home three gold medals and expect that no one will remember. I don’t care how long it’s been. What’s so funny?”

He wouldn’t tell her, but he couldn’t stop laughing as they slid into the booth across from Lucy and Christopher. He faced the bar and the crowd with his back to the wall, a perfect spot to see what was coming. He didn’t expect trouble, but he was always ready for it.

As they feasted on nachos and fish tacos, everyone’s mood lightened. Peyton was glad to see Lucy having a good time. She even told a joke. It was a lame one, but they still laughed—even Christopher. The laugh lines appeared around his eyes again, and the frown lines that had been furrowing his brow were erased. When he told a funny story about one of the guests of the resort who tried to smuggle a lamp from her room, Lucy laughed so hard she grabbed hold of his arm and leaned into him. Maybe there was something going on between the two of them after all, Peyton thought.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to the work at the resort.

“We’ll be back on track tomorrow,” Lucy told Finn.

“No, we won’t,” Peyton interjected.

“Didn’t you look at the schedule?” Lucy asked. “The plumbers—” She stopped when Peyton shook her head. “What?”

“No plumbers,” Peyton announced.

Christopher didn’t seem fazed by the news. Lucy, on the other hand, went ballistic.

“If you tell me—”

“I am telling you,” Peyton said. “According to the scheduler, you called and canceled the order a week ago. Just like the electricians. Now they’re on another job and won’t be available for at least a month.”

“Cassady is doing this,” Lucy said between clenched teeth. “I’ll bet the plumbers are working on one of his high-rises.”

Peyton turned to Finn to explain. “Cassady is trying to sabotage us so that he can step in and get control of Bishop’s Cove.”

“I can bring in new plumbers, just like I’m doing with the electricians,” Christopher offered, “but we’ll have to keep quiet about them, too.” His calm and pragmatic attitude was reassuring as he went on to lay out his plan. He would go beyond the nearest town of Port James and hire tradesmen. It might cost a little more, he told them, but they wouldn’t have to deal with Cassady’s interference.

Finn was listening to the conversation, but he was watching the bar. Two men in their late thirties were arguing with the bartender.

Peyton drummed her fingertips on the table. “I think it’s time we started playing hardball. Christopher, who is Cassady’s biggest competitor?”

Finn smiled. “I like the way your mind works.”

“Miller,” Christopher answered. “Dan Miller and Scott Cassady have been fighting each other over every project in Port James. Miller is way ahead of Cassady there, but Cassady prides himself on the fact that he squeezed Miller out here on the island.”