Читать книгу Manhunt - Lisa Phillips - Страница 11

TWO

Just after nine on Friday morning, almost a week after Steve Farrell’s escape, Hailey slumped into the back row of the briefing room beside Eric and handed him his coffee. The whiteboard at the front of the room was covered with pictures of Farrell, showcasing his life of crime over the last few years, along with his known associates. Beside it was a map marked with sightings of Farrell that had been called in to the tip line.

No one knew who had helped Farrell escape.

Jonah Rivers, their supervisor and the fugitive apprehension task force team lead, stood at the front of the room. They had another boss, Marshal Wilson Turner, an old-school marshal who oversaw the whole office, but Jonah was the hands-on man.

Jonah stood with his feet hip-width apart and his arms folded. “The blood found on the runway was sent off for testing. We still don’t know who hit who, given both Marshal Shelder and Marshal Hanning fired their weapons.”

Hailey’s cheeks heated. Lying on the ground, thinking she’d been shot in the helmet, she’d realized she was unhurt and tried to do something to help the situation.

Beanbag rounds. Like suddenly it was important for them not to hurt anyone.

And apparently Eric had managed the same thing, because they’d both fired.

Too bad all she’d done was wing someone as they ran away. If she’d even hit the person at all. It could just as easily have been Eric.

Eric shifted beside her. She glanced over at his notebook, where he dutifully recorded everything Jonah was saying. He scratched above his ear with the lid of his pen. Maybe he wouldn’t turn out like the rest of them. He did seem more studious than the rough-edged marshals in the room. That could be a good thing.

Eric shifted and pulled out his phone. The display said Aaron. He stopped the vibrating and slid the phone back in his pocket.

“Who was that?”

Eric looked up. “Huh?”

“The phone. Who’s Aaron?”

“Oh, he’s my brother.”

Hailey studied Eric. There was no way that was all it had been. She knew for a fact her partner was keeping secrets, but for now, she’d let him be evasive. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to give up everything you had built, and move to a completely new city and start over. Still, WITSEC? That had to have been cool.

Her life had fallen apart in a different way when her marriage ended. She’d been tempted to get herself a new life, but around that time Kerry had been starting school and her dad’s construction business was slowing down. Now he only took the odd handyman job to stay busy. It was just how things had worked out, but it meant Hailey had spent her whole life in this one county.

The marshal in front of Hailey raised his hand and said, “What about the rain?”

Jonah nodded. “They’re expecting localized flooding around the river, so the sheriff and the police chief are coordinating efforts to minimize the damage. The radar doesn’t look good, though, and I honestly think the mayor’s downplaying it. We’ll see how it plays out and adjust accordingly. Rain or not, Farrell is still our target.”

She tried not to flinch at Jonah’s mention of the mayor, but it didn’t help when two of the guys turned to smirk at her. So what? She and Charles had been divorced for seven years—whatever he was or wasn’t doing in his mayoral duties had nothing to do with her.

She felt Eric’s attention on her. “Something I should know?”

Hailey’s cheeks warmed even more—a definite downside of having red hair and freckles. She turned to her partner. “Why would there be?”

His face said he didn’t buy it, but she wasn’t going to tell him all the details of her personal life if he wasn’t going to do the same. They just weren’t that type of partners, regardless of what most people thought of law enforcement. Hailey didn’t bring her life to work. Not that the guys respected her need to keep her private life private. But that was a whole other set of problems, and she had enough to deal with.

Jonah said, “The clock is ticking. Let’s get to work.”

Eric’s eyes were focused on her. She started to figure out how to explain, but her phone vibrated. She read the email and motioned from Eric to the door with a flick of her fingers. “Let’s go.”

He glanced up. “Where?”

“Jonah!” She was already walking away. “Hanning and I are out!”

Ten minutes later Hailey was driving through town with Eric beside her in her rusty nineties car. He frowned. “You missed the turn.”

“No, I didn’t. This isn’t a latte run.” His unrelenting insistence on following procedure was starting to affect her mood, like the rain clouds overhead that made everything dreary. “As for what this is, you’ll have to trust me.”

The country song on the radio was cut off by a loud buzz. An electronic voice said, “A severe weather alert is still in effect for all counties, including Franklin—”

Eric shut the radio off. “I might be new to the task force, but I’m pretty sure going off on a hunch is frowned upon.”

Hailey pressed her lips together while the windshield wipers fought to quell the rainfall. “It’s probably nothing.”

“But it might be something?”

“You don’t have to come.” She shrugged. “You could get out at the next light and walk back to the office.”

“And if something happens to you? I’ll have to explain to the rest of the task force that I let you get hurt.”

There was the crux of the situation. None of the good old boys on the task force wanted the little girl to get hurt. Apparently they’d overlooked the fact she was a trained marshal, just like them. She’d hardly have picked the toughest federal job—tracking down outstanding warrants, escaped prisoners and federal fugitives—if she was a wimp.

“All we’re going to do is ask Deirdre Phelps if she has any idea where our escaped fugitive is.” Hailey motioned to the backseat with a tilt of her head and made a right turn. “Check out the file yourself.”

“What makes you think this Deirdre Phelps has anything to do with Farrell?”

Hailey hesitated for a minute, but if she was going to jump in then it might as well be with both feet.

After the debacle at the airport she’d been up all night reading and rereading Farrell’s file. It had taken a week to track down his old girlfriend and confirm they were still in contact.

“Deirdre Phelps visited Steve Farrell every month when he was locked up in county for assault.”

Eric flipped through the file. “Her name’s not on the visitor’s log.”

“She used a fake ID. This morning I emailed her picture to a sheriff’s deputy who worked at the jail back then. He just confirmed it was her.”

“That was six years ago.” Eric shook his head. “You didn’t bring this to the team because...”

“You haven’t lived in this part of Oregon long, so let me give you a crash course. Deirdre Phelps is the daughter of Thomas James Phelps the Third. He owns all four Chevy dealerships in the valley. She does not work. She lives in a condo in a gated community, drives a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car and spends her days shopping and getting manicures. She’s practically royalty around here, and you do not mess with daddy’s little girl.”

“Still, couldn’t you have just mentioned it to Jonah?”

“Fine.” Hailey sighed. “Marshal Turner plays golf with Thomas James Phelps the Third.”

Eric huffed out a breath. “Okay, I get it.”

He should have, because Marshal Turner was technically their boss—Jonah’s boss. Two years from retirement, his gut hung over his belt and he spent his days in the office looking at pictures of yachts.

“I just want to ask if she’s seen or heard from her fugitive ex-boyfriend.”

As of a week ago, instead of being transferred to his permanent federal vacation in California, Farrell was now back on the 15 Most Wanted list. And worse, his escape made her miss breakfast the next morning with her daughter.

The security guard at the community’s gate frowned at their badges, but let them in. Was he going to call ahead and warn Princess Phelps they were coming? Hailey couldn’t do much about that, short of threatening him with her weapon. The security guard probably got paid more than she did, working in a neighborhood like this.

The streets were wide and free of cars, as if the residents had been threatened not to park there. The landscaping was immaculate, although waterlogged, since the rain was still falling steady. And yet, somehow not even a stray leaf was on the ground. It was eerie, unlike her homey neighborhood and the dated farmhouse she grew up in. Her roof leaked and the wind whistled through the upstairs hall, but at least her house wasn’t sterile and void of humanity like this place.

Hailey popped the trunk on her Honda and reached for her two pairs of cuffs, the extra magazines for her weapon, and her flashlight. Eric’s eyebrows rose under the bill of his government-issued baseball cap. Go team.

Hailey shook her head. “It’s just a precaution.” And more habit than necessity, even if it could be the difference between life and death. The extra supplies balanced out the professional weight of the star badge on her belt.

“I thought you weren’t worried about this. It isn’t a big thing, remember?”

Hailey rolled her eyes. Kerry liked to use that tone of voice when she needed to remind Hailey of something she’d said. It was like the kid was twelve going on twenty-five.

Eric’s lips twitched.

Hailey frowned at him. “You’re teasing me.”

He shrugged off his jacket and snapped his belt on below his Kevlar vest. “Only a little.”

“Must be a slow day.”

He laughed. The yellowing bruise on his neck from the beanbag round did nothing to mar his looks.

They both pulled on black jackets with US MARSHALS stenciled on the back, and Eric followed her through the ridiculous little gate in the white picket fence of Deirdre Phelps’s townhome.

Hailey unsnapped her gun and rested her hand on it. They were only there to ask Deirdre a few questions, but the possibility Farrell might be inside the residence couldn’t be ignored.

The walk sloped up to the front door, while the drive curved down to the garage, tucked away below ground level like it needed to be out of sight.

Hailey ignored the bell and hammered on the front door. “This is the US Marshals, Ms. Phelps. We need to speak with you.”

That would get the neighbors talking. Hailey would probably get into trouble for disturbing Princess Phelps’s life, but she just knew there was a connection between Deirdre and Farrell.

She pounded again. “Open the door, Ms. Phelps!”

The voice that came from behind the door was muffled, but high-pitched. “Go away.”

“Federal agents,” Eric called out. “Open the door.”

“No!” the female yelled. “I know my rights.”

She glanced at Eric, and they shared a grin. Why did no one ever worry about Hailey’s right to ask a simple question to someone who was clearly hiding something? That made her wonder again what secrets Eric was keeping, but there wasn’t time for that now.

Not to mention the last thing she needed in her life was another man who was going to hide stuff from her. Not when she was trying to keep life as simple as possible for her and her daughter.

Hailey banged on the door. “We just want to ask a few questions, Ms. Phelps. This won’t take long, and then you can go about your day.”

“I’ll go about my day when you leave me alone. This is police harassment!”

Hailey chuckled. “Open the door and tell me you don’t know where Steven Farrell is and we’ll be on our way.”

“No.”

Apparently Princess Phelps wasn’t interested in taking the easy way out. Hailey only had her suspicions. If Deirdre didn’t want to open the door and talk, there wasn’t much else she could do without probable cause and a warrant.

The neighbors probably loved the shouting match happening on their quiet little street, but this was pretty much the highlight of Hailey’s day. There was a rush to her work, a satisfaction in being part of an organization that brought down the worst of the worst criminals and put them away. Justice. Honor. She breathed these things. Her heart beat by them.

Hailey heard the ratchet of a shotgun.

Eric launched himself at her just before the front door exploded.