Born to Die Page 7

  “Think he likes decorating?” Nash asked.

  “I think I wouldn’t want to pay the electricity bill.” Cassy checked her watch. “How do you want to do this?”

  “You take the back; I’ll cover the front.”

  “Hopefully he hasn’t left for work early.”

  “Let’s go find out.” Nash pressed the talk button on his radio to let dispatch know they were at the residence and approaching the house.

  They carefully made their way up the partially shoveled sidewalk. The owner was a woman named Renna Howard, Sam Linrock’s current girlfriend and the woman who’d posted his bail. At this moment, Renna was supposed to be working at the grocery store downtown. Sam worked the afternoon shift at the plastic factory, so he should be up by now.

  Cassy’s nerve endings were tingling in alert, her muscles taut. “I’ll check the garage then head back. I’ll give you heads up when I’m set.”

  As she passed the porch she spotted a footpath between the house and the garage, the wind having swept away any snow that tried to pile up in the gap. Above were a row of windows that lined the whole side of the house, and all the curtains were opened. The occupants of the house would have a direct line of sight on anyone trying to move down that path. Even the basement had a row of windows. If Sam was in there and spotted her, he might make a run for it before she could reach the back of the house to cover an escape route.

  A peek inside a garage window showed no vehicle. According to the report, the car Sam had been driving when he was pulled over was registered to Ms. Howard, so she probably drove it to work. Cassy gave Nash a head shake then checked the other side of the garage for another way behind the house without exposing herself.

  That option wasn’t promising. The neighbor’s fence butted against the wall, and the small gap between them was clogged with dead brush and snow. Cassy shuddered at the thought of taking the footpath around.

  Turning to Nash, she noticed the flutter of a curtain in the house across the street. “We’ve got an audience,” she warned him. “I’m going back.”

  He grunted his acknowledgment then positioned himself at the corner of the porch, waiting for her safe return.

  Staying low, she crept along the path, her gaze swinging up at the windows then back to the snow-covered sidewalk. She quickened her pace when the end loomed before her, a waist-high chain-link fence blocking her entry into the backyard. Cassy’s boots lost traction, and she slid. Feeling herself going backward, she managed to throw her weight around, and she slammed into the fence, rattling the thing hard. Her arms locked over the top, she got her feet under her. A patch of black ice. Figured.

  A quick check of the yard assured her there wasn’t an attack dog waiting to eat her alive. Cassy didn’t find a gate. She’d have to do this the hard way. Ramming the toe of her boot into a hole in the wire weave, she swung her body up and over, hurtling the fence like a pro. She landed in a drift, sending a flurry of snow into the air.

  She’d hate when it finally soaked into her pants, leaving her skin cold and clammy, but the effort was worth it. The back door was in sight. She pressed the talk button on the radio. “I’m set,” she told Nash.

  “Roger.”

  Cassy positioned herself in a safe spot off to the side of the door and waited. Nash’s knocking echoed through the house. She picked up the sound of his voice but not the words. Seconds dragged; Nash knocked again. Was Sam Linrock even home?

  As she was about to call Nash, an explosion shattered the silence. Cassy ducked her head, nearly diving for the snowdrift.

  What the … ?

  From inside the house she heard, “Goddamn sons of bitches, cops!” Another explosion rocked the house.

  “We have shots fired,” Cassy barked into her radio. “Requesting assistance.”

  “En route,” Jolie came back over the radio.

  The bang and rattle of objects inside the house stalled Cassy’s response. Suddenly the back door flew open, and a half-dressed man barreled out. Reacting on instinct, Cassy drew her weapon and yelled, “Sam Linrock, stop!”

  He half-hobbled, half-jerked around; in one quick assessment, she noted he was unarmed, barefoot, and pissed. Her gun wavered. She couldn’t shoot an unarmed man. Her hesitation cost her.

  With a roar, Linrock grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at her. Cassy squinted under the shower of ice crystals. Linrock took off with an off-kilter gait for the far end of the yard. Shaking off the snow, Cassy spotted his destination—under a stand of heavy brush was the gate she couldn’t find. How the hell had she missed that?

  “Suspect is making a run for it,” she said into the radio as she ran after Linrock.

  Her radio crackled with chatter, but she couldn’t stop to decipher it now. Her focus was on stopping Linrock before he got away.

  In his half-dressed and barefoot state, he wasn’t about to get far. Plowing through the drifts, she chased him down, and, with a tackle any professional cornerback would be proud of, Cassy wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him to the ground, shoving his face into the snow. Scrambling to get to her knees, she was thrown back as Linrock reared up. Cassy hit the frozen ground on her butt. Linrock tried to twist around, but she kicked the back of his leg, making him roar and throwing him forward. The move gave her the precious seconds she needed to jump up and push him down, again, bringing his arms back behind him.

  Cuffs in hand, she pinned his legs and slapped one cuff on, wrestling with the other arm. Linrock struggled, nearly unseating her, but she didn’t let off. All those years of riding horses taught her how to keep her balance.

  Suddenly an extra pair of hands were there, aiding her in subduing the suspect. She knew those hands. Nash. Together, they got Linrock cuffed, ratcheting them as tight as possible to keep him from doing anything stupid. While he squirmed and cussed, Cassy gasped for breath.

  Leaning against the chain-link fence, she met Nash’s gaze. Blood streaked the side of his face, and the down from inside his coat puffed out of holes. “Nash, you’re bleeding.”

  He reached a hand inside his coat and withdrew it covered in blood. His gaze lifted to Cassy. “Look at that.” His legs buckled, and he toppled forward.

  “Nash!” Cassy threw herself at him but missed catching him before he hit the ground. She dropped onto her knees, grabbing at her radio. “Officer down.”

  Sirens pierced the morning air as backup came down the street. Cassy struggled to pull Nash into her lap. “Don’t you dare die on me.” She cupped his face and glared at his closed eyes.

  “Damn it, Nash. Don’t you dare leave me, too!”

  Chapter Ten

  The moment the Eider police investigator released her from the scene at the Linrock place, Cassy dashed madly to the hospital. Before the paramedics had hauled Nash to the ER, they’d assured her he’d be fine; she hadn’t believed a word out of their mouths. Her duty to stay to report what had happened from her vantage point outweighed her need to follow the bus when it left, but with each second that ticked by, Cassy’s agitation grew. Perhaps that’s why the investigator took down the essentials and told her he’d follow up later.

  She guided the squad car into the parking lot, plowing through a pile of slush that had built up from the traffic. Finding a spot near the entrance, she slammed the gearshift into park and exited the car, barely remembering to swing the door shut. A blast of hot air buffeted her body as the glass doors slid open. She bypassed the front desk and headed straight for the ER.

  Cinnamon and coffee overpowered the typical sickly, disinfectant smell of the hospital. Her mouth watered, but she steered clear of the cafeteria, where she glimpsed the glass display case filled with freshly baked rolls with gooey cream cheese frosting. Later, when she knew Nash was all right.

  Turning the last corner, she stepped into the calm, quiet atmosphere of the ER. The lack of activity and people made Cassy shiver. Slowing her pace, she scanned the usually bustling wing of the hospital then spotted Hamilton on h
is phone, near a closed exam room.

  At the sound of her quick footfalls, Hamilton turned. Before she could open her mouth, he jerked his hand up and made a motion for her to button her lips.

  “I appreciate the heads up, Chief.” His gaze slanted to Cassy. “He’ll be fine. Probably back on duty in two days, three at the latest.”

  Relief flooded through Cassy.

  Hamilton bobbed his head like he was agreeing with something the chief was saying. “I’ll pass the word along. Thanks again.” He ended the call and tipped his Stetson back to rub his forehead. “Rivers, we’ve got a problem.”

  Panic struck her in the chest like a blow from a fist. Had he lied about Nash? “Wha … You just said he was fine.”

  “Not about Nash. He is fine. His vest took the brunt of the buckshot, but a few balls missed the vest and hit his shoulder. Nothing bad, just flesh wounds.”

  “So why did he go unconscious?”

  “The man has low blood pressure, and the adrenaline crash, combined with the bleeding, made him pass out.” Hamilton shook his head. “’Pears he didn’t bother to alert you to that particular side effect.”

  Cassy scowled. “No, the dumb-ass didn’t. I’m going to slap him upside the head, then call his mama on him.”

  A familiar chuckle behind her sent her stomach into a tailspin. “Always the pragmatic disciplinarian,” Boyce, flanked by Agent Liza Bartholomew, said.

  “And for the bad news of the day,” Hamilton said, “Agent Hunt is on his way here.”

  “Why?” Cassy barked.

  “Because, Deputy Rivers,” Boyce said, “in the course of our investigation we learned that the suspect you arrested this morning was in the bank at the time of the robbery. And seeing as he was brought here for treatment after his exciting apprehension, we decided now would be the best time to talk with him, before he’s locked up and lawyered up for shooting a law enforcement officer.”

  She peered at Hamilton, giving him her best “really?” look. The sheriff shrugged and shuffled over to the waiting room.

  Cassy’s gaze slid back to Boyce. “And I suppose you need to talk with me and Deputy Nash as well?”

  “Actually, no, we don’t,” Liza said. She tapped Boyce’s shoulder, pointed at the opposite hallway, and, with a curt nod to Cassy, headed in that direction.

  Left alone with Boyce, she simply stared at him, unable to formulate a thought to save her life. Criminy, what was wrong with her?

  “How coincidental,” she said, “that the same man we wanted to talk with in our murder investigation is someone you need to talk with.” Well, that didn’t come out quite like she’d hoped.

  Boyce gave her a lopsided grin. “Many would say there are no coincidences in a criminal investigation. The evidence points you in the right direction.”

  Crossing her arms, Cassy shifted her weight to her left leg. “I’ve heard your little spiel before. You’re a firm believer in whatever is thrown your way, may it be the fates, faith, or karma. For someone as jaded as you, Boyce Hunt, you sure are optimistic.”

  Boyce moved to leave, heading in the same direction as his partner. “I’d call myself more of an opportunist.” He parted with a click of his tongue.

  Cassy glared at his retreating figure. Once he disappeared around the corner, her shoulders sagged, and her arms went limp, falling to her sides. That man’s cocksure attitude knew no limits. At first it had been endearing because Cassy had attributed it to confidence. Then the rose-colored glasses lifted, and she’d seen him for what he truly was, a man hell-bent on changing his course in life. Confidence and cockiness were masks he hid behind to keep the world out; he didn’t care who he hurt, as long as he got what he came for. He didn’t want her to know about Ruby Jean, and there had to be a good reason, but Cassy couldn’t put a finger on what that reason was. By now, he had to suspect that she’d dug for information on him, but whether he suspected or knew for certain, he kept quiet about it.

  Maybe a conversation with Liza was in order. She was the only other person Cassy knew of who had gotten close to Boyce. Surely, he’d said something to Liza about his mother.

  No matter the outcome of his recent return to her life, Cassy knew for certain that, as much as he irritated her, he’d left a mark on her heart.

  Rubber squeaking against the waxed floor made her turn. The handsome Jasper Drummond, doctor extraordinaire as a few of the single ladies in town were known to call him, came to a stop at the nurses’ station. Having just turned forty, his once dark-brown hair was almost completely engulfed with silver—most likely a product of his second job as the county coroner—and on Drummond, it only made him look better. On more than a few occasions, Nic—who had never been interested in Cassy’s dating life, or anyone’s for that matter—had pestered Cassy about possibly dating Drummond. Cassy always shot her sister down.

  “Deputy Rivers,” Dr. Drummond said.

  “Doc, how is Nash?”

  “Sore, and I quote, ‘dying for a chocolate shake and fries. Where is my partner, and why ain’t she holding up her obligations to me?’”

  She smiled, her first since this whole fiasco started. Leave it to Nash to infuse some humor into the situation. He had to know she wasn’t handling his being shot very well.

  “Can I go see him?”

  “Yes.” Drummond switched out charts. “By the way, I know it doesn’t matter now, but Sam Linrock has an alibi the night Officer Wallis was murdered.”

  “Is that so?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as he squinted. “Yes, because I was treating him that evening for an injury he’d received at work. He left about an hour before you called me to the scene. I can have the security footage pulled if you want it.”

  Cassy shook her head in disgust. “Figures. Pull it and give it to the sheriff,” she said, “but you’re right, it’s pointless now that he’s shot a police officer.”

  “I wanted you to be aware before you wasted any more time on him.”

  Agitated yelling erupted from an exam room on the opposite side of the ER.

  Drummond groaned, muttering something under his breath. “Excuse me, Deputy Rivers.” He snatched up a chart and hurried away.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Cassy caught movement and glanced over to see Hamilton exit the waiting room.

  “Sounds like the resident dipshit is kicking up a ruckus with the FBI agents,” she said.

  Hamilton heaved a soul-weary sigh as he headed in that direction. “It’s too early in the day to be dealing with stupid people.”

  Cassy let him go alone. She’d already had a go-round with Linrock and Boyce. She’d reached her limit for the day. Keeping her head down, she went to visit Nash. Steering clear of trouble sounded good right about now.

  • • •

  “Why did you lie to her?”

  Boyce glanced at Liza then returned to angling the pictures from the crime scene to fit with the current condition of the store. They’d returned to the convenience store that had been robbed over twenty-four hours ago, after clearing it with Hamilton, of course, who was all too happy to get them out of his hair, so they could compare what happened here to the bank robbery.

  “I didn’t lie to her.”

  Liza snatched the photos from his hand and held them behind her back. “The hell you didn’t. We didn’t need to speak with Sam Linrock to know he had no clue who robbed that bank. You were there because you heard a deputy had been shot and freaked out thinking it was Cassy. We wasted time going to the hospital so you could assure yourself she wasn’t injured.”

  Several interested parties from the clean-up/repair crew turned to look their way. Boyce ground his molars together as black spots popped up on the edges of his sight. Liza was a fine agent, but her tendencies to put him in his place were as annoying as a mosquito hell-bent on jabbing him with its sucker.

  Clutching her elbow, he dragged her to a far corner. “Listen, Bartholomew, it was a calculated risk. Everyone we’ve spoken to abo
ut the robbery swears they have no clue who the robbers were. If Sam Linrock happened to be the lucky bastard who actually knew something, it was worth it. That a McIntire deputy had been shot in his apprehension … We’re all law enforcement officers, and we support each other. Even if all of them would rather see me rot for my past evils.”

  Liza’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s not forget the fact that you had a torrid love affair with one female deputy in question, breaking her heart when you couldn’t handle the heat.”

  “I didn’t break her heart. There was no love between us.”

  “Oh my God, you’re such a man.” Liza slapped the pictures against his chest. “Know what? You figure this out, cowboy, just like you always do—on your own.”

  Boyce glared at her retreating figure. What the hell did she know? Cassy and Liza were not intimate friends; there was no way Liza could know what or how Cassy felt about him. Why would Liza believe Cassy had loved him?

  “Hey, buddy, would you mind moving?”

  “Pardon me.” Boyce stepped out of the way of a man lugging a ladder, allowing him to pass.

  Boyce wasn’t going to get far here, not with all the work going on to repair the store and get it back in business. He sighed. Leaving now meant facing Liza and her brooding during a long car ride back to the Eider Police Department.

  “Agent Hunt?”

  A short man with tanned features, a trimmed goatee with silver streaks through the darker hairs, and a head full of gray hair peered up at Boyce.

  “Yes?”

  The man held out his hand. “Silas Vega. I’m the owner.”

  It was strange meeting a man with a Hispanic surname here in Eider. The area was predominately white and German. Boyce took the offered hand. “Excuse me if I’m a little shell-shocked. I wasn’t expecting—”

  “A Latino,” Vega cut in, “with a first name of Silas.” He chuckled. “I can’t explain my parents’ reasons other than I’m from California.”