The Cavanaugh Code Page 15

  Laredo noted that Taylor had managed to move forward. He did the same, then called the young woman’s attention to him, allowing Taylor to take another step forward.

  “The woman in the penthouse and the teacher,” he told her.

  The description brought enlightenment. “Oh, them.” She laughed shortly, shrugging dismissively. “I didn’t kill them.”

  Laredo’s turn to move, Taylor thought. “Same method was used,” she said.

  The agitated woman seemed close to the breaking point. Any opposition instantly had her temper flaring. “I said I didn’t kill them,” she snarled, waving the muzzle of her weapon at Taylor.

  Linda was on the verge of hyperventilating. And there was no gauging what her daughter was really capable of. She looked as if she was coming apart at the seams, as unstable as a vial of nitroglycerin, Taylor thought. They needed to wrap this up somehow.

  “Then who did?” Taylor probed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Laredo inching forward. This pace was much too slow. They needed to rush Linda’s daughter. But how to keep her from firing wildly? That was the problem before them.

  Linda’s daughter tossed her head. “Someone who had the right to kill them,” she said self-righteously.

  She was talking about Eileen’s son. Waiting for Laredo to say something so that she could move, Taylor glanced in his direction. He was thinking the same thing she was.

  “You mean their son?” Laredo asked.

  “Son,” the woman snorted contemptuously. “You damn cops make it sound like some kind of PG family movie. Miles wasn’t their son,” she spat out the last word. “They thought he was just some mistake they made. Something they were willing to throw away.”

  “Miles, is that his name?” Taylor asked. She could see that the young woman was working herself up. Desperate, Taylor tried to stop the eruption she could see forming. “That’s not true, you know.” Taylor kept her voice low, soothing, as if she were trying to gentle a wild animal that had been hurt. And as she spoke, ever so slowly, she moved forward. “Terrance Crawford’s girlfriend told us that he tried to get custody of his son, but he was too young and Eileen insisted on giving the baby up. Terrance became a teacher and devoted himself to kids in an effort to try to make up for that. Because he felt so terrible about losing his son,” she emphasized.

  She saw the young woman’s eyes widen as she looked at something that was just behind them. Still on her knees, Linda made a gurgling noise beneath the duct tape.

  “Well, well, well, let’s bring out the violins,” a sarcastic voice behind them said, ending the sentence with a nasty laugh. Taylor froze, as did, she noted out of the corner of her eye, Laredo.

  The voice, she thought, sounded familiar.

  And then she saw why. The man who’d entered the house was the missing security guard from Eileen Stevens’s building.

  “Nathan,” Taylor cried in recognition.

  “Miles,” Linda’s daughter exclaimed at the same time, lighting up like the proverbial Christmas tree at the very sight of him.

  Joining the disheveled young woman, Nathan/Miles slipped his arm around her. In his free hand, he held a gun and aimed it at them.

  There was no tremor to his hand. And his gaze was dark, flat. They were in the presence of a stone-cold killer, Taylor thought.

  He brushed a kiss against his girlfriend’s hair, but his eyes never left the two people still holding their weapons trained on her. “I came to see how you were doing, baby. Didn’t think you were going to hold an open house.”

  “I’m not. I didn’t,” the young woman protested, irritation and nerves infusing themselves into her voice. “They just came storming in. I don’t know where they came from or who they are.”

  “Then let me introduce you,” Miles said magnanimously. “The one with the cute butt is Detective McIntyre. The guy with the scowl’s some private eye. Laredo, I think his name is. Don’t worry,” he reassured his girlfriend, “they’re clueless. They came nosing around after I offed dear old Mom.”

  His easy tone vanished as he raised his weapon, aiming it first at Laredo, then at Taylor. There was no doubt in Taylor’s mind that he could shoot them both without the slightest qualm.

  “Put your guns down,” Miles barked.

  “Sorry, that’s not an option,” Laredo told Miles before she had a chance to. Taylor held her breath. “Right now, we have a Mexican standoff. If we lower our weapons, you just pick us off one by one,” Laredo pointed out, his voice deceptively calm.

  Miles appeared to think Laredo’s words over. “Interesting theory. You mean like this?”

  And before anyone could make a move, he fired a bullet into the trembling housewife’s leg. Her mouth still taped over, Linda screamed, the sound coming through her nose as she crumbled to the floor. Taylor tried to go to her, but Miles shifted the muzzle of his gun, aiming it at her. Laredo caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

  “Miles!” his girlfriend cried in angry protest.

  Miles laughed. “Don’t worry, baby, I didn’t kill her. I wouldn’t rob you of the pleasure. You still get to watch her choke to death. I’m just showing these two big, bad detectives that all the cards on the table are mine. Ours,” he amended as an afterthought, sparing her a nod.

  Slipping his hand all the way around her, Miles deftly extracted the gun she was holding. With a satisfied smirk, he drew back and aimed one weapon at each of them.

  His eyes shifted toward Taylor. “Now put your guns down or the next shot is the kill shot.”

  His meaning was clear. He meant to kill Linda and her daughter.

  Very slowly, Taylor put her weapon down before her. After a beat, Laredo unwillingly followed suit.

  Triumphant, Miles nodded his head. “Now we can talk. What are our options?” he mocked. “I either snuff out your eager beaver, overachieving, worthless lives, or you end mine.” He shrugged carelessly, nodding toward Linda’s daughter. “And maybe Donna’s.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Taylor cut in, desperately trying to reason with one of them. “We can get you help.”

  “Get us help?” Miles mocked. His laugh turned ugly. “Lady, are you for real? Where the hell were you when Donna was raped? Growing up in a nice little cushy home where Mama and Daddy saw to your every need?” His tone became menacing. “Where were you when I was being shoved into a wooden box in this maniac’s backyard and left there, in the hot sun, for two days because I dragged a chair across the kitchen floor and left scuff marks?”

  He all but got into her face, shouting, “Where were you when that son of a bitch the system gave me to beat me just ‘to show me who’s boss’?”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you, to both of you,” Taylor began. “If the system is at fault, that should be brought to the public’s attention—”

  “The ‘public’ knows. The ‘public’ doesn’t care,” Miles shouted. “They just look the other way. Your kind is responsible for everything that happened to me. To Donna. To countless other poor, dumb slobs whose only crime was to be born when they weren’t wanted.”

  “Let the women go, Miles,” Laredo requested in a mild, reasonable voice, knowing that to insist would only set the other man off. “I’ll stay, I’ll be your hostage. You’ll need a hostage to get out of here. The police are already on their way.”

  “If they’re as good as you two, Donna and I will be safe,” he mocked. “But first—” he glanced toward the sobbing woman on the floor “—we have a little unfinished business to attend to. I went through a lot of work, finding Donna’s ‘birth parents.’ We’re not about to just walk away and let her live.” Linda’s sobs became louder. “Shut up, bitch!” he ordered.

  “Can’t you see she’s sorry?” Taylor asked, taking a step forward.

  Miles instantly raised the gun in his right hand. “Sorry? I’ll bet she’s sorry.” Miles sneered at the fallen woman. “But not half as sorry as ‘Mama’s’ going to be, I can promise you that.”


  “Killing her won’t change anything,” Taylor insisted. There had to be a way to stop this madman. She had to reason with him.

  “Nope, not a thing,” Miles agreed. “But it’ll make Donna feel better.” He spared his girlfriend a smile. “Just like killing those two rutting pigs who were my parents made me feel better.”

  “Did it?” Taylor challenged.

  Miles scowled darkly at her. “Shut your girlfriend up,” he ordered Laredo. “Or she’s going to be the first to go.”

  Taylor opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t Laredo’s girlfriend, but didn’t get the chance. Laredo spoke first.

  “She’s a police detective,” Laredo reminded him. “You kill a cop, there’s no place in the country that you can hide.”

  Miles’s laugh sent a chill down Taylor’s spine. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows on TV. That’s just a lot of hype. The truth is, killers still get away with it all the time. Even cop killers.” His dark eyes slanted a glance at Taylor. “They just have to be smart, that’s all. And I’m smart,” he bragged.

  And then his satisfied smile vanished as he glanced toward Donna. “Well, what are you waiting for, Christmas? Tie that leather strip around her throat before it dries out.”

  Weak, frightened and losing blood, Linda still had the strength to plead for her life. She ripped the duct tape off her mouth, crying out as she did so.

  “No. No, please,” she cried frantically, putting both hands around her throat to keep Donna from tying the leather strip around it. “I didn’t want to give you up, I didn’t. You’ve got to believe me. I couldn’t afford to keep you. I had no money, no one to turn to. You were sick. The social worker said they’d take care of you, see that you got treatment.”

  “Don’t listen to her, baby. She’ll say anything to save her life. Get this over with. We’ve got to go,” Miles ordered.

  “Don’t do it, Donna,” Taylor implored. Miles cocked the gun he was aiming at her. Her hands still raised, Taylor ignored him. “Don’t let him talk you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

  Her words only incited Miles. “Who the hell are you to tell her what she wants or doesn’t want to do?” he demanded.

  “I’m the person who’s going to go to court to testify that she was under severe duress when she killed Hank Dougherty and didn’t know what she was doing.” Taylor prayed that she was getting through to the other woman. Donna was clearly a weak person who could be manipulated by someone stronger willed. “They’ll send you to a hospital, Donna, where you can get well. If you kill your mother, I can’t help you.”

  “No, no more hospitals,” Miles cut in. “No more institutions for us. We’re finishing what we set out to do and then we’re going away.” He cocked his other weapon. “And you two are going to sit here and rot right along with the Mother of the Year.”

  Laredo knew that it was now or never. That the man on the other side of the revolvers was someone who felt he had nothing to lose. He could see it in Miles’s eyes. They were flat, expressionless, as if his soul had long since vacated the premises. He was familiar with the type. Men who did desperate things because they felt they risked nothing. In their eyes, they stood to gain everything.

  If he waited one more second, the results, Laredo knew, would be fatal.

  With one quick motion, he pulled Taylor by the arm, pushing her behind him even as he tackled Miles. Caught off guard, the latter cursed. At the same time Donna, afraid, screamed. One of the guns that Miles held flew out of his hand, but he discharged the other, firing wildly as he went down, backward on the floor.

  Hitting his head, Miles became enraged. He scrambled up and, with a bloodcurdling shriek, lunged at Laredo. The two were approximately the same size, but Miles had learned every single dirty move in order to survive. Thin and wiry, every ounce of him was dedicated to killing.

  A spectrum of colors shifted before her eyes as Taylor struggled to hold on to consciousness. The bullet from Miles’s gun hadn’t been fired at a target, but it had found one.

  Blood was oozing out of her side, taking all her available strength with it.

  She didn’t have time for this, she thought, desperately trying to steel herself. If you don’t think about it, it didn’t happen.

  Grabbing her gun from the floor, Taylor pointed the weapon at Donna. The latter had dropped the leather strip she’d been holding and had picked up the gun that Miles had dropped. Holding it in both hands, she aimed it at the whimpering, pleading woman on the floor.

  “Drop the gun,” Taylor ordered, her voice echoing in her head.

  Donna looked as if she had lost the ability to process what was being said. Instead, she continued pointing her weapon at Linda Morrow. Taylor knew Donna was going to shoot her mother. Miles had told her to do it and it wasn’t in the woman to disobey.

  God forgive me, Taylor thought. The next moment, she fired dead center at Donna before she could even think her action through.

  Donna went down, her scream dying in her throat as she sank to her knees then fell over, her weapon slipping from her fingers. Inches separated her from her birth mother, who seemed to shrink into herself, sobbing hysterically.

  Taylor turned around, trying to orient herself to what was going on behind her. The two men were still locked in combat. The pseudo-security guard had his weapon grasped in one hand. Did Laredo have his gun? She didn’t see it.

  Quickly scanning the floor, she noticed Laredo’s weapon was still on the floor. She didn’t remember racing to it, was only aware that when she bent over to pick it up, the entire room tilted dangerously, making her nauseous. She almost fell.

  Hang on, Taylor, hang on. You can’t pass out now, she upbraided herself sternly. He needs you.

  Turning back again, she had to blink twice to focus on the struggling men on the floor. She had no opportunity to give Laredo his weapon.

  “Back off, Miles,” she ordered in what she hoped was a strong voice. “I said, back off! It’s time to throw in the towel. Donna’s dead. You don’t want to join her. Give up. It’s all over.”

  An unearthly, guttural wail escaped Miles’s lips as, on his knees, he turned to confirm what she’d just told him. It was all the diversion Laredo needed to get the upper hand. He hit Miles hard, knocking the weapon away. Taylor hurried over and gave him his gun.

  Reunited with his own weapon, Laredo motioned for Miles to get up.

  Neither he nor Taylor were prepared for what happened next. Lunging forward, Miles grabbed his hand and pushed the finger that was on the trigger back.

  Laredo’s weapon discharged, hitting Miles pointblank in the chest.

  A maniacal smile of deep satisfaction curved the man’s lips as he sank back to the floor.

  “Looks like I won’t be going to any more institutions,” were the last words Miles uttered. He fell over, lifeless.

  Shaken, Laredo turned to the cowering woman on the floor.

  “You’re safe now,” he told Linda. The woman didn’t look as if she understood. He kept his voice low, calm, as he took out his cell phone. “I’m going to call 911. The paramedics will take you to the hospital,” he promised.

  Just then, someone came on the line. Quickly, Laredo rattled off the necessary information to the dispatch operator, giving the woman on the other end Linda Morrow’s address and a thumbnail summary of what had transpired.

  Flipping the phone closed, he turned toward Taylor. “Didn’t expect him to off himself,” he was saying, and then his eyes narrowed. She stood with only her profile visible to him, but he didn’t like what he saw. “Are you all right?” he asked, crossing to her. “You look a little pale.”

  “Pale?” she repeated, then pressed her lips together as she could literally feel the word echoing inside her brain.

  “Yes, pale,” he repeated. “As in no color in your face,” he further elaborated. Linda was calling to him, crying that her leg was burning, but he barely heard the other woman. All his attention was focused on Taylor. Hi
s gut tightened as he voiced his worse suspicion. “Taylor, are you hurt?”

  “Oh, you might say that,” she allowed in a reedy voice, trying her best to sound nonchalant. She knew she was failing. She was just much too weak to carry the charade any further. It felt as if strength was literally draining out of her.

  “Where?” Laredo demanded. “Where are you hurt?” Even as he asked, he was lifting up her jacket. Horrified at what he saw, he pulled it from her arms so he could get to her wound more easily.

  “Laredo, please, control yourself,” she quipped. She tried to smile, but couldn’t.

  Taylor desperately tried to be flippant, to show Laredo that she was okay. The problem was, she wasn’t okay. Not anywhere near okay. Her head swirled around like a merry-go-round stuck in fast-forward and nothing was making sense anymore. Her head felt completely out of focus.

  “At least wait…wait until we’re alone,” she joked.

  It became a major effort to remain coherent and say each word. Even now, at the end of the sentence, she wasn’t sure what she’d just said to him.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m going to go outside to wait for the paramedics.” She said it, but she couldn’t seem to make her legs obey.

  Confused, she looked down at her legs. Why weren’t they moving?

  The next moment, everything around her went black. Before Taylor could open her mouth in protest, the blackness found her and swallowed her up.

  It was only because of his quick reflexes that Laredo caught her before she hit the floor.

  In the background, he heard the distant sound of approaching sirens and silently offered up his first prayer since he was a child.

  Chapter 15

  “R eally, people, you are going to have to clear the hallway!”

  The edict was delivered—not for the first time—by Celia Roberts, the no-nonsense, heavyset head nurse who was a twenty-year veteran at Aurora Memorial. She addressed the overwhelming throng that filled the cheerfully decorated surgical waiting room to its maximum capacity and now spilled out into the passageway before the first-floor operating room.