Читать книгу Falling For The Enemy - Dawn Stewardson - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

STILL SHAKEN TO THE CORE, Hayley dialed Anne Kelly’s number, not at all sure she’d get through the conversation without breaking down.

But she had to. If Anne realized something terrible had happened to Max, she might call the cops. And if that happened, Lord only knew what would become of him.

As Anne’s phone began to ring, Hayley looked across her desk at Sloan, thinking she’d never despised a man more. And that included every single murderer and rapist she’d encountered in the course of her work.

Almost without exception, they’d had everything going against them from birth, whereas Sloan Reeves had everything anyone could ask for—brains, looks, an easy manner and a good education. So how could he be warped enough to be part of Billy Fitzgerald’s sordid scheme?

“Hello?” Anne answered.

She took a deep breath, then said, “Hi, it’s Hayley.”

“Oh, hi.”

“Anne, I did something so absentminded I just can’t believe it. I forgot to tell you I asked a couple of friends to pick up Max from your place this afternoon.”

“Well, that’s all right, you’re telling me now. He’s out riding his bike but—”

“No, what I mean is my friends already got him. They saw him down the block so they didn’t bother going to your house. Max is here with me now, and it wasn’t until they walked into my office that I realized I’d forgotten to call you.

“I guess things have just been in such a turmoil that I wasn’t thinking straight. You see, my custody agreement gives Max’s father the right to have him for part of the summer. And...well, it’s a long involved story, but the bottom line is that his father phoned late last night and I’m putting Max on a plane to Pittsburgh at four o’clock. So he’ll be away for a while. Exactly how long’s still kind of up in the air. But as soon as we decide when he’ll be coming home I’ll let you know.”

“Hayley? Your ex isn’t trying to get custody, is he?” Anne asked, her voice filled with concern.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. What happened is his parents suddenly announced they were coming to visit him. And they wanted to see their grandson. So there’s no real problem, it’s just that everything happened awfully fast.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, tell Max I hope he has a good time.”

“I will. And thanks. Bye.” She hung up, then looked at Sloan.

“Good,” he said. “That was perfect.”

“Now, let me talk to my son,” she demanded.

He nodded, dug a cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number.

She watched him, unable to keep from thinking that something awful had happened and he was going to hear about it right now.

“It’s Sloan,” he said when someone answered.

“Put the boy on. His mother’s waiting to talk to him.”

After listening for a few seconds, he passed her the phone. Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped it.

“Max’ll be a minute or two,” he said. “He was watching TV in another room.”

She exhaled slowly. He was all right, then.

He’s all right so far, a voice inside her head whispered.

“Don’t ask him any questions about where he is or the men he’s with,” Sloan warned her.

A moment later, Max’s reedy little voice said, “Mommy?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, I’m here, darling.”

“Is your leg okay?”

Her leg? Oh, Lord, what did they tell him? “My leg’s fine, Max. Did someone say something was wrong with it?”

“Uh-huh. The policemen you sent to get me. I said I couldn’t go with them ‘cuz they didn’t know the secret word. But they said you forgot to tell them ’cuz you fell and hurt your leg. And they were gonna take me to the hospital. But then they said it would be better to come here and wait for you. So when are you comin’ to get me?”

“Well...I can’t come just yet. But you’re okay? The...policemen are being nice to you?”

“I guess. They gave me ice cream. Chocolate. And one of them said he’ll play catch with me after. But I want to go home. So when are you gonna come?”

She closed her eyes against more tears. “Darling, I’m going to come just as soon as I can. But I have something very important to do and—”

“More important than me?”

“No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “No, nothing’s more important than you. But it’s something I just have to do. So I really need you to stay where you are for a little while.”

“With the policemen?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Well...at least until tomorrow.”

There was a silence. Then, his voice quavering, Max said, “You mean sleep here? Without you?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t want to. Why can’t I stay at Mrs. Kelly’s?”

“Because she’s going out tonight.”

“But I don’t have my jammies,” he whined. “And Satchmo won’t have me to sleep with.”

“Max...darling, I know it’s scary to stay in a strange place, but you’ve done it before, remember? When I went to that conference a few months ago? And you stayed with Peggy and Pace?”

“Yeah,” he admitted slowly. “But that was different.”

“Well, it was kind of different but kind of the same. And I need you to be brave and do this for me. Okay?”

There was another silence before he said unhappily, “I guess.”

“Good. And I’ll phone you again just as soon as I can.”

“In the morning?”

She looked at Sloan, blinking back tears, and said, “Can I call him in the morning?”

“I’ll have them phone you at home. Early. Before you leave for work.”

Leave for work. It suddenly struck her that they expected her to carry on as if everything were normal. But she’d have to, of course, if she was going to help Billy Fitzgerald. The question was, would she be able to function even seminormally?

“Max?” she managed to say. “The policemen will let you phone me in the morning, okay?”

“And then you’ll come get me?”

“As soon as I can, darling. I love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Mommy.”

Her heart feeling as though it were in a vice, she handed the phone back to Sloan.

“He’s fine?” he asked.

“Fine? He’s a six-year-old child. He’s in a strange place with two men he doesn’t know and he isn’t sure when his mother’s coming to get him. How fine do you think he can be?”

Sloan raked his fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve arranged to visit Billy first thing in the morning.”

So he could give a play-by-play account of today’s events, she thought bitterly.

“I’ll do my level best to convince him to let you see your son,” he added.

But he hadn’t been able to convince Fitzgerald not to kidnap Max in the first place! If he’d actually tried to.

He pushed back his chair and rose. “Tuesday’s your regular day at Poquette, right?”

She nodded, knowing he didn’t really have to ask.

“Then I’ll stop by the psych area after I’ve seen Billy. Let you know where things stand. Oh, and I probably don’t have to warn you to keep quiet about what’s happening, but I’m mentioning it because of your detective friend.”

Lord, they even knew who her friends were!

“I’m sure it’ll be tempting to ask her for advice, but don’t. Being a cop, she’s liable to steer you wrong. Or, worse yet, take the matter into her own hands. And if Billy learns you’ve been talking out of turn...well, I’m sure you know how this would end up if you made him unhappy.”

With a brief nod, Sloan opened her door, stepped out into the corridor and disappeared. That left her staring at the blank wall in the hallway. And thinking that if he was lying to her about trying to convince Billy, or if his level best wasn’t good enough, she might never see Max again.

Doing her damnedest not to cry, she tried to decide which she hated more—the fact that Sloan Reeves represented her only potential source of help, or the man himself.

HAYLEY DIDN’T SLEEP a wink all night, and seventhirty the next morning found her sitting at the kitchen table—numb with fear that the kidnappers hadn’t called yet because something had gone wrong. Because her son was dead.

Fiercely, she told herself that couldn’t be. Billy Fitzgerald needed Max alive to make her cooperate, so his men would be taking good care of him. For the time being, at any rate. Until Billy Fitz got what he wanted. But after that...

Even though she’d already cried a river of tears, fresh ones started spilling over. She didn’t even try to stop them until Satchmo began winding himself around her ankles, loudly reminding her she’d forgotten to feed him.

She pushed herself up and poured some dry food into his bowl, then went back to waiting for the phone to ring, focusing her thoughts on having to help Fitzgerald.

The prospect ran counter to every principle she’d been raised believing in. And to her professional integrity, as well. But as important as her work was to her, Max was her world. If she didn’t go along with Fitzgerald, if she went to the authorities, instead, would they be able to find her son and get him back alive?

She doubted the odds on that were very high. Far more likely, they’d barely start working on the case before Billy’s boys would learn what she’d done. And then...

Wiping her eyes, she turned her thoughts to her other option. She’d promised Sloan Reeves she’d do what she could to help. But if she actually did that, would Billy live up to his side of the bargain?

Sloan had assured her he would. “All you have to do is help him out,” he’d said. “And even his enemies admit he’s a man of his word.”

The problem was that she didn’t know whether she could believe Sloan any more than she could believe Fitzgerald. So even though Sloan had told her to not to say a word about what was happening, she had to find out if she could trust Billy. And since she didn’t have any friends who were members of the New Orleans organized crime establishment, the obvious person to ask was Peggy. Regardless of what Sloan had said.

It would have to wait, though. She couldn’t call from home when Billy’s people might have her phone bugged.

Glancing over at it, she wondered whether she should take it apart and have a look. Just as she was deciding that was a good idea, it rang.

She jumped a foot, then rose so quickly her chair toppled behind her. After racing the few steps to the counter, she picked up and said hello.

“Hi, Mommy,” Max said.

“Hi, Max.” She closed her eyes and offered up a tiny prayer of thanks. Then, reminding herself that if he could tell she was worried it would only upset him, she said, “How are you doing?”

“Okay.”

“Are the... men being nice to you?”

“The policemen?”

So they were going to continue that ruse. “Yes, the policemen.”

“Their names are Tom and Dick.”

“Oh.” And if there was a third one, she knew his name would be Harry.

But their not telling him their real names was a good sign. If they had, it might mean they figured it didn’t matter—because they knew he was going to end up dead.

That thought sent a shiver through her. Doing her best to ignore it, she said, “And do you like them all right? Now that you’ve gotten to know them better?”

Please say yes, she added silently. Please don’t tell me they’re mean, or that you’re scared of them.

“Uh-huh. You know what?”

“What, darling?”

“They got me that good cereal Jimmy’s mom buys. The one that tastes like candy. ’Member I told you?”

“Yes, I remember.” And she didn’t care if they fed him pure sugar for breakfast, just as long as they didn’t harm him.

“So are you comin’ to get me this morning?”

The question made her feel as if someone had reached inside her chest and was pulling out her heart.

“No, I can’t come this morning, darling. This is a workday.”

“Then after work?”

“Well, I’ll try. I’ll try my very best, but I can’t promise yet.”

Lord, somehow she had to make him understand what was going on. But she didn’t want to even attempt explaining until after Sloan had talked to Fitzgerald this morning. Until after she knew if there was even a chance he’d go along with her demand.

“Tom said you might not be able to come for a while,” Max told her. “‘Cuz if your leg was still sore you’d have to go to the doctor. But if you’re goin’ to work it’s not sore, right?”

“Well...actually, Tom’s right. I might have to get it looked at. And that just might keep me from coming as soon as I’d like to. But...Max, I’ll be there as soon as I can. And in the meantime, you be a good boy today, huh? And do what the policemen tell you.”

“And you’ll come after work? If you can?”

“Yes, darling. But don’t be too disappointed if I can’t.”

“But I want you to,” he insisted, his voice quavering.

“I know, Max. And...honey, I’ve got to say bye now. I love you, darling.”

“If you love me then you should come.”

“As soon as I can,” she told him once more, blinking back tears this time. “Bye, darling.” Difficult as it was, she made herself click off then, before her emotions completely wasted her.

After taking a few deep breaths, in a futile effort to make herself feel better, she grabbed her car keys and headed out. The burger place she and Max usually went to had a pay phone; she’d stop there and call Peggy.

Getting into her car, she tried to figure out exactly how she should explain why she was asking her question. It would be tricky, because Detective Peggy Fournier was no dummy. And since she knew about Sloan’s initial visit, she’d be suspicious as hell.

There had to be a way of sounding casual, though, and she spent the drive trying to come up with one.

At the restaurant, she parked and hurried inside, ignoring the people catching breakfast on their way to work and making her way straight to the phone. She wasn’t sure what shift Peggy was on, but with any luck she’d be able to reach her either at home or at the Ninth Division.

She tried the home number first, her pulse leaping when her friend answered. “Hi, it’s Hayley,” she said, making an effort to sound normal.

“Hi, how’s it going?”

“Good. Terrific. Except that Max’s father decided he wanted him for part of the summer, so I had to send him to Pennsylvania and I’m feeling a little lonely.”

“Oh? I thought you said his father wasn’t interested in maintaining contact. They’ve never had a summer visit before, have they?”

“No, but...” Taking a calming breath, she launched into the explanation Anne Kelly had bought—about Max’s grandparents wanting to see him.

Then, without giving Peggy a chance to ask any more questions, she said, “But Max has nothing to do with why I’m calling.” Not exactly a lie. He had everything to do with it. “Remember I mentioned I’d be doing an assessment on Billy Fitzgerald?”

“Of course. We said we’d talk about it the next time we got together.”

“Right. In the meantime, I had another look at his intake evaluation. And could you check on something for me?”

“What?”

She swallowed anxiously. “Well, he made a big point of talking about being a man of his word. He claimed even his enemies give him credit for that. Apparently it was very important to him that the assessing psychologist believe him, which got me wondering. You know what I mean?”

“He doth protest too much, and all that jazz?”

“Exactly. I couldn’t help thinking it might not be true at all.”

“And you want to know whether it is because...?”

For a moment, she almost gave in to the urge to tell Peggy everything and ask her advice. If Billy’s people had grabbed her son rather than Max, what would Peggy do? Would she trust the scandalplagued New Orleans police force enough to report the kidnapping? Trust it with her son’s life? Or trust the FBI?

Hayley couldn’t ask, though. She was too terrified that, as Sloan had intimated, Peggy might take the matter into her own hands.

There couldn’t really be much chance of it. Still, any chance was too much, so she simply said, “Knowing would make my assessment easier.”

When only silence followed that, her skin began to feel clammy.

“Why?” Peggy finally asked. “You think Billy Fitz might give you his word about something while you’re assessing him?”

“Well...sort of. I mean, if he swears he has no ulterior motive, that he really does only want a transfer so he can get into a rehab program...”

“I thought we agreed that was a crock?”

“Yes, but I’ve been thinking more about it and... Oh, Lord, am I out of line here? Maybe I shouldn’t ask you to do this. I didn’t figure it would be a big deal, but if it is I can—”

“No,” Peggy said slowly. “No, it’s not a big deal. I’ll talk to a couple of informers, see what they say. You just surprised me. The question seemed strange.”

“It did?”

“Yeah. But I guess that was just the cop in me. Once a perp’s in for life, nobody on the job cares whether his word’s worth two cents. Actually, at that point nobody cares anything about him. But I guess my mind-set’s not quite the same as yours.”

Hayley forced a laugh. “Right. Your job’s putting them behind bars. Mine’s keeping an eye on their mental health once they’re there. And I don’t want to make any mistakes when it comes to Fitzgerald. Don’t want to see my name in the Times-Picayune , in some article on how the head of the Irish Mafia is getting special privileges. Or in one saying we’re treating him unfairly, either.”

“Yeah...I see your point. Well it shouldn’t take me long to ask around. I’ll give you a call when I’ve got something.”

“Do you think it might be today?”

Peggy didn’t answer for a couple of beats. That started Hayley sweating even harder.

“I thought the assessment on Fitz wasn’t going to happen for ages,” her friend said at last.

“Oh, it probably won’t. I’d just like to finish my notes for the file. So I can get it off my desk.”

“Ah. Okay. I’ll see what I can do today. But it might be tomorrow or Thursday before I get back to you.”

“Whenever you can. And thanks, I owe you one. Bye.”

“Bye, Hayley.”

She hung up, her hands trembling. She wasn’t used to lying and she didn’t like the way it made her feel. But at least she’d learn what she needed to know.

SLOAN PRESSED THE BUTTON on the post, then identified himself to the disembodied voice that responded. When the gate opened, he reluctantly drove into the Poquette Correctional Center compound, really not looking forward to this visit with Billy.

Hayley Morgan had done anything but endear herself to him by not recommending a transfer, so predicting how he’d react to the idea of letting her see her son wasn’t tough.

After parking his Cherokee in a visitor’s space, Sloan climbed out into the gathering morning heat and checked the staff section of the lot for Hayley’s car. One of Billy’s boys had told him it was a silver Taurus and given him the plate number, which made it easy to establish that she was already here. Here and expecting him to stop by after he’d seen Billy.

And if he had to report that Billy had said “No way she can see her kid...” Hell, that was undoubtedly what he would say, regardless of how hard Sloan argued.

Telling himself he’d just have to hope the luck of the Irish was on his side today, and that his powers of persuasion were in top form, he started across the dusty parking lot toward the dirty brick quadrangle that was Poquette.

When he opened the front door, stale air wafted out toward him. Wishing for the tenth time that he didn’t have to be here, he stepped inside and walked the few feet to the metal detector, sticking his keys and loose change on a tray before stepping through.

Once the correctional officer on door duty nodded for him to proceed, he retrieved his things and headed for the reception counter, trying to stop remembering the way Hayley had looked yesterday when he’d told her Billy’s men had snatched Max.

He couldn’t force the image from his mind’s eye, though. Hadn’t been able to, in fact, since he’d woken up this morning. In mere seconds, she’d gone from a picture of calm composure to a portrait of anguish.

Seeing her face grow pale and her dark eyes fill with terror had made him feel lower than an alligator’s belly. He hated being a part of what was happening to her and her son, and if he could, he’d simply deliver the boy back to her.

But that just wasn’t an option.

Exhaling slowly, he reminded himself he was only doing his job. That usually helped.

It didn’t this time, though. Probably, he knew, because Hayley Morgan wasn’t like most of the other women he’d had dealings with while working for Billy.

Actually, unless his memory was failing, she wasn’t like a single one of them. She was intelligent and cultured and...

And dammit, she appealed to him in a way he couldn’t let any woman appeal to him. A way that was physical, yet dangerously more than that.

There was something about her, some substance or inner strength, that had reached out and grabbed him. As upset and frightened as she’d been, as close to dissolving into tears as he’d known she was, she’d pulled herself together and coped with the situation as best she could.

He liked that strength, liked the way... But hell, there was no point in defining what touched him about her. Since she had to figure he was the scum of the earth, thinking about that was nothing except a waste of time.

At the reception counter, he gave his name and identified himself as William Fitzgerald’s lawyer. The correctional officer checked the appointment log, then buzzed the door unlocked. It led to a small room where another C.O. had him empty his pockets.

“What’s that for?” the officer asked as Sloan set his minirecorder on the table.

“I use it to tape conversations with clients.”

The C.O. picked up the recorder and examined it, removing and then reinserting the cassette before checking that the space for the batteries contained nothing it shouldn’t.

As he put the unit back down, Sloan began to breathe more easily again. It hadn’t happened yet, but there was always the risk that one of these guys would notice the extra switch.

“Face the table and place your hands on it,” the C.O. ordered.

When he did, the man treated him to a thorough pat-down—one of the joys of visiting someone in protective custody.

“I’ll call ahead and have the prisoner brought from his cell,” the C.O. said when he’d finished. “Then I’ll get someone to escort you to the visiting room.”