Dirty Money Read online

  A ghost of a smile appeared on Jack’s lips. “I guess he’s not exactly in the running for father of the year.”

  I knew Jack was trying to lighten the tension, but I was long past that. “We can’t live like this, Jack.” I didn’t have anything left inside of me but a burning rage to see my father taken down. “We can’t even enjoy our marriage or the life we’re supposed to be building together. Things like this don’t happen to ordinary people.”

  Jack’s expression tightened. “I’ve been enjoying our marriage. Quite a bit, actually.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  “Look, Jaye. This whole thing sucks. No one will argue with you on that. And you’re right. Things like this don’t happen to ordinary people. But you’re not ordinary. You’re an extraordinary woman caught in the middle of extraordinary circumstances. You have to play the hand you’re dealt. There’s no other option.”

  I hadn’t admitted to anyone—had barely admitted it to myself—that there was part of me that was angry with Jack too. Jack was a good man. An honorable man. He liked to play by the rules and follow the law to a T. And because he was good and honorable, he was right. We had no choice but to play the hand we were dealt. Maybe I just wasn’t as good and honorable as Jack.

  All I wanted was Malachi Graves out of my life forever, and for him to go back to hauling coal in hell where I’d originally thought he was. I didn’t care how it was achieved. I would’ve been fine burning the flash drives, or I would’ve been fine with someone putting a bullet in his brain. I wasn’t picky at this point. He was too good to be caught. He’d proven that time and again. So Malachi had the ball, and we were stuck playing his game.

  But I couldn’t admit that to Jack. It would upset him and cause him to worry about me more than he already was. And taking my anger out on him wouldn’t be productive anyway. There was too much work to do for us to be at odds with each other, though I felt like we were miles apart from where we’d been even twenty-four hours ago.

  “The witness didn’t get a good look at the driver,” Jack said, “but he was able to describe the vehicle in detail and part of the plate. After Carver went off the road, the SUV sped west on 218. We’re going to find him. Cops in three states are looking for him.”

  “So what?” I asked, not able to hold my frustration inside. “They don’t know who they’re looking for. Even if you gave them the description from the last time I saw him do you think he looks the same? He’ll walk right underneath all our noses and laugh about it the whole way.”

  “I’m aware of Malachi’s talents,” Jack said, his voice soft and even. That was never a good sign. “But it’s what we’ve got to work with. People make mistakes. And sometimes you just get lucky.”

  My laugh wasn’t nice. Jack, Carver, and I were the only people who knew my father had returned. I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything I would regret later. But I wasn’t encouraged. Our lives were in danger. And all we could depend upon was…luck?

  I don’t know how long we sat in silence, but a nurse came in and checked Carver’s vitals, and neither of us said anything while she worked. Jack’s face had been buried in his phone, and his scowl was growing darker.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “They found a black SUV matching the description of the one that ran Carver into that ravine abandoned off Glebe Road in Stafford County. No signs of Malachi. They found another set of tire tracks and think he had another car there waiting. That’s a dead-end road to the middle of nowhere, and it’s pitch black, so it probably wasn’t hard for him to get in and out.”

  “I don’t think either of us is surprised by that,” I said, stretching my neck from side to side. “You can have a thousand agencies looking for him, and they’ll never find him.”

  “We’ll find him,” he said. “This isn’t my first day on the job.”

  I stared at Jack intently. I’d had a lot of time to think while we’d been sitting there, and there was only one way to catch my father.

  “No, but you’re only one man. No one else knows how serious this is. No one knows the game he’s been playing with us. He’s got resources and experiences that you don’t have because you’ve never played in that world.”

  “So what? So now it takes a crook to catch one?”

  It was rare for Jack to get angry, but I could tell I’d pushed a button somewhere. Jack didn’t get loud or violent when he was mad. He was ice. Quiet and cold and efficiently deadly.

  “All I’m saying is he’s been doing this since before either of us were born. We know that the CIA has trained him, at least in some capacity as an agent. We don’t have any clue what he’s capable of. Not really. You think local cops are going to catch him? What about the FBI? They’re as deep into this as Malachi. It’s just you and me on this now that Carver is out of the picture.”

  Jack was already shaking his head. “Jaye…”

  But I didn’t let him finish. “Like you said, he wants two things—the flash drives and to see how much I know. There’s only one way to kill two birds with one stone.”

  Jack’s lips pressed into a thin white line. “So, what’s your plan? You want to stand in the middle of a field holding the flash drives up in the air, and pray he doesn’t just shoot you in the head and take them from your corpse?”

  “It wouldn’t be my first choice,” I said, feeling more in control now that I’d said what I’d been thinking out loud. “I’m the only way to get this finished. And it would be foolish for you not to use me in any way possible. He’s going to come after me anyway. He’s getting desperate. Carver’s accident proves that. Use me. And let’s put this behind us. We can’t start living until he’s gone.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, coming to his feet. “You’ve chosen to dwell on your past instead of living for your future, and it’s crippled you. You haven’t flourished. Not because you can’t, but because you’ve chosen not to. You’ve let your past define you, control your choices so you’re living half the life you were meant to live. But that’s not the life I want to live. We were meant for a hell of a lot more than this, Jaye. And I’m disappointed you don’t see that.”

  White-hot fury consumed me, and I stood, so we were eye to eye. He was wrong. I’d done everything I could to move on to a future I never thought I’d have. I wouldn’t have married him or started a new life if I’d been living in the past.

  The scar that slashed through his eyebrow was even whiter than it had been before, and his words were clipped and even. “And what? Now you want to become a sacrifice? What’s the real reason, Jaye? Is it so you can catch your father, or is it because you think death would be an easy way out of your own personal misery?”

  I gasped and gripped the railing on the side of the hospital bed. I was surprised the metal didn’t melt under the heat of my hand. The prick of tears stung my eyes, and my spine straightened. I’d never felt anger like this. It spread like liquid heat beneath my skin. And inside…inside I felt the soul-crushing disappointment in the only person in the world I’d ever cared about.

  “Things got too good, huh?” he pressed on. “You can’t allow yourself even one iota of happiness without trying to sabotage it.”

  There were a lot of words I wanted to say, but I would’ve had to have put my whole salary in my swear jar.

  “Gosh,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “I’ve just been wracking my brain trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. But you clearly know me better than I know myself, and you’re always right about everything, so it must be true. Must be nice.”

  My face felt like marble—immovable. I reached for my bag, slung it across my torso.

  “Jaye…” he said.

  “It looks like you’ve got things taken care of with Carver,” I interrupted. “I’m going to get some sleep. Let me know if anything changes.”

  “Jaye,” he said again.

  But I’d already pushed the curtain aside, my back stiff with pr
ide. I had to deal with my father first. Then I could deal with my marriage.

  Chapter Three

  I woke the next morning to the glare of sunlight streaming directly onto my face, and my phone buzzing loudly.

  My neck was stiff and twisted in an unusual position, and I held a hand over my eyes, blocking the sun, as I creaked them open. It took me a few seconds to orient myself. I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer first thing in the morning, especially before coffee.

  It didn’t take long for me to remember Jack’s words, and I felt the gaping wound in my chest, as if my heart had been ripped out. I’d replayed the conversation in my head over and over again, thinking of different ways I should’ve responded. I’d let my anger fester until I’d been ready to get in the car and hunt him down to give him a piece of my mind.

  Common sense told me to have a glass of wine and get control so we didn’t end up on Judge Judy. And thank God the King George Tattler was now defunct because there was no doubt we would’ve been on the front page.

  I’d finally found sleep sometime around dawn, though it was fitful. I wasn’t even sure if Jack had come home like he’d said he was going to. I hadn’t made up my mind whether I cared.

  My phone stopped buzzing, and I stared at it confusedly on the hardwood floor, wondering how it had gotten there. I looked around my seldom-used office and tried to work out the crick in my neck. It was a wasted room, really. But Jack had wanted me to have my own space when I’d moved in, and he’d turned what had initially been the smallest extra bedroom into a cozy workspace. There was a long oak table instead of a desk, built-in bookshelves, a couch, and a single overstuffed chair next to a corner fireplace.

  It had seemed like the place to sleep at the time, though I’d briefly considered staying at the funeral home. But I wasn’t an idiot. Malachi could get in and out of that funeral home with his eyes closed. Using me as bait wouldn’t work if I made it too easy for him.

  Jack had said the house was being watched inside and out, and sure enough, when I’d gotten home, Officer Cheek had been stretched out on our couch watching the big screen TV. He had a walkie-talkie next to him on the table, and I assumed he and the two officers in the patrol car outside were trading off every couple of hours.

  I’d done no more than say hello before I headed upstairs to the office. I wasn’t in the mood to converse. The office was also a good choice because it faced the front of the house so I could see if Jack’s unit was parked in the driveway. I was an expert at passive-aggressive fighting and avoiding.

  I was still in my jeans and T-shirt, and a plush throw was twisted around my ankles. I removed the blanket and sat up slowly, squeezing my head in my hands. I had a tension headache that radiated up the back of my skull.

  There were no blinds on the windows, and the sun was brutal in a cloudless sky. I glanced at the door and saw it was still locked, and then I got up and moved around the perimeter of the room until I was standing next to the window. I peeked down at the driveway, but the only cars out front were my black Suburban and the patrol unit that had been parked there the night before. Jack had either left very early, or he’d never come home.

  My phone started buzzing again, and I went over to pick it up, half afraid it was Jack calling. It wasn’t. The screen on my phone said Sheriff’s Office, but Jack wouldn’t have used that line to get in touch with me.

  “Dr. Graves,” I said, after I’d put it on speakerphone. I unlocked the office door and headed downstairs toward the kitchen. I needed coffee.

  “Hey, Doc,” a deep voice said. “It’s Nash.”

  I liked Nash. He was a good cop, though I couldn’t imagine why he’d be calling me. Especially before I’d had my coffee.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. It was obvious I’d just woken up, but I didn’t even try to disguise it. I glanced at the kitchen clock and saw it was past nine. That wasn’t too terrible for a Sunday morning.

  The coffeepot was half full, and I assumed Officer Cheek and the others had helped themselves through the night. It was long since cold, so I poured it in the sink and started to make another pot.

  “We’ve got a body,” Nash said.

  An image of Malachi flashed through my mind, and I wondered who else he’d gotten to. Jack had the flash drives. He’d taken them back from Carver to keep them safe. Maybe there was a reason Jack hadn’t made it home. My heart stopped as fear grabbed me with icy fingers.

  “Who?” I demanded.

  I heard papers shuffling in the background before Nash said, “Nina Walsh. Got the call about an hour ago and we’re at the scene. She was found by her husband. He’s a fireman and was working his twenty-four, so she’s been dead awhile. No rigor left in the body. It looks like she passed out or something and hit her head. But the tub was running and there’s about an inch or so of water covering the floor.”

  I didn’t recognize the name and figured she wasn’t a Bloody Mary resident. “What’s the address?” I asked, grabbing the pen and notepad that was lying on the counter next to the coffeepot.

  My brows rose as he rattled off a street in Bloody Mary, and I copied it down. Nina Walsh didn’t live too far away at all.

  “I can be there in half an hour,” I said. “I need to shower and change. I had a late night.”

  “No hurry,” he said. “Looks like an extreme case of bad luck from what I can tell. Husband’s real broken up about it and his alibi is tight.”

  Bad luck indeed. It didn’t take much water for someone to drown. But no one would know for sure until I got her on my table and opened her up.

  I was about to hang up when Nash said, “Hey, any word on your friend?”

  The phone was sitting on the counter and I scanned my texts, but there was nothing from Jack about Carver. Or about where he’d spent the night.

  “No,” I said. “Nothing yet. He’s still critical.”

  “He’ll pull through. Gotta keep the faith, Doc.”

  “Yeah,” I said, softly, but Nash had already hung up.

  I made a cup of coffee and put extra creamer and sugar in it. I normally had my first cup black, but only when Jack made it. I didn’t have the same culinary skills he did and needed the extra enhancements to make my brew palatable.

  The TV was off in the den, and I didn’t see Cheek or any of the other officers, but I figured they were around somewhere. I headed upstairs to the shower, ignoring the sight of our unmade bed or the lack of a wet towel hanging over the rod in the bathroom.

  Jack hadn’t been home at all.

  I stripped out of day-old clothes and took my coffee into the shower with me to kill two birds with one stone. The water was as hot as the coffee, and I stood under the harsh spray so it pounded at the knots in my neck and shoulders.

  I wasn’t a high-maintenance kind of person, so it didn’t take me long to get out and dry off, blow-dry my hair, and get dressed. I briefly looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was paler than normal, amplifying the dark purplish bags under my eyes, and I slathered on tinted moisturizer so I didn’t look worse than my victim.

  I put on a pair of old jeans and a black T-shirt, thinking about the conditions of the scene. There wasn’t a point wearing anything nice if I was going to be kneeling in water. My coveralls were water resistant, but you never knew what surprises a scene might hold.

  My black hair was long enough to pull back, so I clipped it at the nape of my neck, grabbed my empty coffee cup, and headed back downstairs.

  “What’s up, Doc?” Officer Cheek said, his grin letting me know he thought the saying was hilarious.

  “Same old,” I called out, detouring to the kitchen one more time.

  Cheek was a rookie, though he’d had a lot of that rookie polish shined right off when he’d seen what Rosalyn McGowen’s cats had done to her body. Animals and death didn’t go particularly well together.

  Cheek was short, and still a little doughy with youth. His cheeks were round and his face smooth. His blond hair was mussed, and
his off-duty clothes rumpled. There was a crease in his cheek that told me he hadn’t spent his entire shift keeping a watch on things. I could only hope the officers in the car had better stamina.

  “Man, this is crazy,” Cheek said. “Can’t believe you have a stalker. You’d think he’d be smart enough to know his days are numbered since you’re married to the sheriff. But people are nuts. You never know what they’re thinking.”

  I’d wondered what story Jack had given his cops for why they were on a protective detail. I guess Jack hadn’t exactly told a lie. Malachi had been watching me for months. Cornering me when I least expected it.

  I had a pretty strong constitution, and nothing much rattled me. Doctors who worked in the ER didn’t have that luxury. But Malachi’s visits were starting to frazzle my nerves, and I could feel I was right on the edge of the breaking point.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s pretty crazy.”

  “You have any idea who it could be?” he asked.

  “Wish I did,” I lied. “I guess we’ve had some pretty high-profile cases lately. It might just be someone who’s fascinated by what I do.”

  “That makes sense,” he said. “Well, don’t worry. We’ve been rotating and checking the perimeter every hour, and the sheriff says you’re our top priority. We’ll catch the bastard.”

  “Thanks,” I said, pouring my to-go cup half full and adding a generous amount of cream and sugar before securing the lid.

  “I heard about the body on the radio,” Cheek said. “Sounds like the whole squad is over there. You get the call?”

  “On my way now,” I said. “Nash said she’s a firefighter’s wife. Fell in the bathroom.”

  “It’s a damn shame. Roy’s a good guy. He plays in the Guns and Hoses charity basketball tournament. Got a wicked three-point shot. I heard he was the one that found her.”

  “That’s what Nash said,” I confirmed. “Why don’t you tell the others to come in and help themselves to the coffee? Things should be quiet here today.”