скачать книгу бесплатно
Yolanda shrugged. “Yeah, okay. So what’s this all about?”
Kendra watched her closely. “You can start by telling us why you wanted to hire Mr. Grayhorse.”
“What do you mean, ‘hire’? I’ve never seen or spoken to that guy before in my life.” She took Paul in at a glance and smiled. “Looks like I may have been missing out.”
“Are you telling me that you’d never heard of Mr. Grayhorse?” Kendra pressed, watching the woman’s expression.
“That’s right, but if you want to set us up...” She winked at Paul.
“Where were you yesterday between four p.m. and, say, nine at night?” Kendra continued, undaunted.
“Camping up at Navajo Lake with a friend. We spent the past three days there. The weather was cold and lousy, but it was plenty hot inside the tent, if you get what I mean,” she said, giving Paul another smile.
Paul, who’d deliberately hung back, heard footsteps coming up the stairs. As he turned his head to look, a short, barrel-chested man wearing a plaid shirt came into view.
“Hey, Alex,” Yolanda said, “tell them where we’ve been.”
Alex looked at Paul first, then as his gaze traveled to Kendra and Preston’s badges, he spun around and raced back down the stairs.
“Police officers. Stop!” Preston yelled.
Paul knew instantly that it wasn’t Miller. The guy was too short. Though unsure who Alex really was, he raced after him.
Alex had a lead and was as fast as lightning. By the time Paul reached the stairs, the man was stepping onto the parking lot. Paul took the stairs in three steps, but Alex was already climbing into the Jeep.
“Preston, he’s heading north!” Paul yelled as he ran to his pickup.
The guy’s vehicle was already on the move. The Jeep’s tires squealed as Alex swerved, scraped a carport support pole, then sideswiped a parked motorcycle.
Suddenly a police cruiser raced up, blocking his exit.
Alex hit the brakes, sliding to a stop inches from the squad car, and ducked down, reaching for something on the floorboard.
“Gun!” Kendra yelled, approaching in a crouch from the passenger’s side of the Jeep, her pistol out.
“Police!” Preston yelled, taking aim over the hood of the cruiser. “Put your hands up where we can see them.”
Alex’s arms shot up into the air. As he rose to a sitting position again, Kendra rushed up, pistol aimed at his chest.
“Who is this idiot?” Preston said as he came around the front of his unit.
“Not Miller, that’s for sure, but from the way he took off, I’m guessing he’s got a record.” Paul glanced at Kendra. “Where’s Yolanda?”
Kendra cocked her head back toward the staircase. “Unless she’s got a lock pick, she’s still handcuffed to the railing.”
After Alex had been read his rights, Kendra examined the ID Preston had fished out of the man’s pockets.
“Alex Jeffreys, make it easy on yourself and explain why you ran,” Kendra asked.
“I want a lawyer,” came the clipped, clearly practiced reply.
As Preston turned Alex over to a uniformed cop on the scene, Kendra holstered her weapon. “He’s all yours, detective. That isn’t the fugitive I’m after.”
“Let’s see who we’re dealing with.” Preston went back to his cruiser and ran Alex’s name through his computer. “Jeffreys has an outstanding warrant for check fraud and ID theft. He’s never been with the department,” he added, obviously remembering Yolanda’s story about her boyfriend being a cop.
“We still need to know how Yolanda’s connected to what happened to Paul last night,” Kendra said.
“I’ll place her under arrest, then meet you at the station,” Preston said.
Paul remained silent long after they were back on the road. “Alex is going to be a hard nut to crack,” he said at last. “And I’m thinking that Yolanda may not be the same person who called. Her voice sounds different, for one.”
“Maybe she was disguising her voice on the phone,” Kendra said. “Either way, it’s still possible Alex used his girlfriend to set you up.”
“Maybe,” he said. “If you let me sit in during questioning, I’ll be able to tell you for sure.”
Kendra remembered one report she’d read. Paul’s first partner, the one before Judy Whitacre, had claimed that he had an almost uncanny ability to separate lies from the truth. “Your foster father was a medicine man, and I know there’s a lot of psychology involved in healing rituals. Did he teach you how to read people?”
“No, it’s not like that.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “What Hosteen Silver did was open my mind so I could use the gift he’d given me.”
She gave him a curious look. “I don’t understand. When you say ‘gift,’ are you talking something supernatural?”
He shrugged. “I can get you results. Do you want my help or not?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, but I’ll take lead. Agreed?”
“Sure.” He pulled into the parking lot beside the police substation. “You don’t really trust me, do you?”
She weighed her answer carefully. “Intuition tells me that there’s more to you than meets the eye, and intangibles make me uneasy.”
“Just remember we’re on the same side.”
“I know. That’s the only reason I’ve allowed you to get actively involved.”
“No, there’s another reason—one you’re keeping to yourself.”
His insight was right on target and took her by surprise. She suspected that Paul held the key to taking down Miller. If Miller was really in the area, and he’d come after Paul ten months after his initial attempt to kill the judge, there had to be a reason. Providing she could figure out what that was, she might be able to use it to draw Miller out of the shadows.
She looked at Paul with new respect. No one had ever been able to read her like that, yet Paul had somehow guessed that she’d been holding out on him.
“See? That’s part of what I do,” he said.
“How? Will you ever tell me how you developed your...skills? I’d be interested.”
“Maybe someday,” he said quietly. “For now, let’s go see what we can learn from Yolanda and her boyfriend. Hopefully, they’ll actually know something of value.”
* * *
T HE ROOM USED to question suspects was purposely kept just a little too warm. The subject was meant to be uncomfortable. The straight-backed wooden chair and simple wooden table were other ways of cutting creature comforts.
Paul and Kendra were in an adjacent room with Preston. Standing next to the two-way glass, they watched Alex, who was sitting alone in the room.
“He’s an old hand at this,” Preston said. “He’s only said one word—‘lawyer.’ You’ll have more leverage with Yolanda. She wants to cooperate. It’s clear to her that she could go to jail if convicted of harboring a fugitive.”
“It’s good that you have her thinking about that. I’ll interview her now,” Kendra said.
“You going in, too?” Preston asked his brother.
“Yeah.”
“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Preston said, indicating the direction with a nod.
They walked into the room several seconds later and found Yolanda pacing like a caged lion.
“Sit down!” Kendra snapped.
Yolanda obeyed instantly. “You’ve got to believe me. I had no idea there was a warrant out on Alex. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone within a mile of him.”
“The fact remains, you were harboring a fugitive. We could send you right back to jail.”
“No, listen, I didn’t know!”
Kendra sat across the table from Yolanda while Paul leaned against the wall, watching them.
“You called Paul Grayhorse yesterday afternoon and asked for his help. You claimed to be afraid of your boyfriend, a police officer, but Alex isn’t a cop. So what’s the deal, Yolanda? What were you trying to pull?” Kendra demanded.
“I didn’t call anyone yesterday. My cell phone didn’t even work up by Navajo Lake,” Yolanda said.
“You weren’t at Navajo Lake. You were home. You telephoned me from your house phone,” Paul said. “I recorded the call, which came at 4:27 p.m.”
“I never made that call! I wasn’t here,” she said, her voice rising. “And I don’t have a boyfriend who’s a cop. I hate cops. N-o offense,” Yolanda told Kendra quickly, clearly regretting the comment. Looking back at Paul, she added, “Dude, I never even heard of you before today.”
“Did anyone actually see you over at Navajo Lake?” Kendra asked her.
“No, we were in the tent most of the time. Remember I told you—” She stopped, then added, “Wait a sec. You said I called you yesterday from my apartment?”
“Yeah,” Paul said.
“Then someone must have broken in,” she said. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. Maybe it was the landlord. He’s kinda creepy.”
Kendra said nothing. Sometimes, unnerved by the silence, a suspect would talk and in the process reveal something important.
Prepared to wait, Kendra glanced casually at Paul and saw that, although his face was void of expression, his eyes were alert. He was taking in everything around him.
For a moment she wondered what lay just beyond that steel-edged resolve. Paul kept his emotions well hidden, yet she knew just how close he’d come to being killed twice in the past year. He’d also lost his partner, and she suspected that beneath the surface he was concealing a lot of anger. Paul carried himself well and was the sexiest man she’d ever met, but was he also a dangerous man, now on the edge?
Kendra stared at the floor for a beat, forcing herself to concentrate, then focused back on their suspect.
The interview continued. “I’d like to believe that you had nothing to do with that phone call to Paul Grayhorse, but you’re going to have to convince me, Yolanda,” Kendra said. “A woman called, so it couldn’t have been your landlord. He’s male.”
Paul came up and stood behind Kendra. “She’s not lying,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Surprised, Kendra turned and saw the utter calm she’d come to associate with Paul etched clearly on his face. With effort, she tore her gaze from his and looked back at Yolanda.
“You said you had a recording of the call I supposedly made to you?” Yolanda asked Paul.
“Yeah, it’s in my voice mail,” Paul said.
“Let me hear it.”
Paul pulled out his cell phone and played it for her.
“That’s not my landlord, and not his wife either. Her voice sounds gravelly. But you can tell it wasn’t me!” Yolanda protested.
“She was whispering,” Kendra said. “For my money, it was you.”
Yolanda shook her head. “Play it again, louder this time,” she asked Paul. As he did, she smiled. “Now I know who it is. That’s Annie, Annie Crenshaw. We used to be friends, but she’s got so many problems now I can’t stand to be around her. I forgot she still has a key to my place.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now I know what happened to some of my Navajo jewelry. I thought I’d misplaced it, but Annie probably ripped me off. She’s hooked on meth and always needs cash to make a buy.”
“Tell us more about this Annie Crenshaw,” Kendra pressed.
“She got clean about six months ago, then her boyfriend dumped her and she started doing drugs again. She ended up losing her apartment. Now she’s working the streets.”
“Where does she hang out?” Paul asked.
“You might try the old brick building where Hensley’s Gym used to be. It’s supposed to be empty now. Last I heard she was sneaking in at night and crashing in one of the old locker rooms,” Yolanda said. “But I doubt she’s there right now. Once she’s on meth, she finds it hard to stay still. Last time she was using she hung out in the alley between the bus station and the free clinic.”
“Do you happen to have a photo of Annie?” Paul asked.
“No, but I’m sure you’ve got a mug shot somewhere,” Yolanda said, looking over at Kendra.
“What about Alex? Does he know Annie? Could they be working together?” Kendra asked.
Yolanda stared at Kendra as if she’d suddenly lost her mind. “No way. They can’t stand each other. Last time they were in the same room, they went at each other major league and she threatened to have him killed.”
“All right, then. We’ll look into this,” Kendra said.
“So, can I go?” Yolanda stood, looking toward the door.
Kendra shook her head. “Not yet. Detective Bowman still wants to talk to you about Alex. What happens after that is up to him,” Kendra said.
They walked to the door, Kendra knocked, and Preston let them out. He’d been standing in an adjacent room, listening and watching through the one-way glass.
Preston nodded to Kendra, then looked at his brother. “So what’s your take on Yolanda? Do you think she’s telling the truth?”
“I do, which means we need to track down Annie Crenshaw. My guess is that she was paid to make that call, and we need to know by whom,” Paul said.
“That person is probably our shooter, maybe Miller, so finding Annie is our top priority now,” Kendra said, glancing at Preston. The man was a hard-assed cop, yet he never questioned Paul’s take on Yolanda’s credibility. Something told her there was more to Paul’s ability than he’d said.
Maybe he’d trained with covert ops somewhere, working closely with their professional con men and other highly skilled consultants. Federal law enforcement agents often had interesting, varied backgrounds.
