Deadly Alliances Read online

  Sanders’ eyes momentarily widened. “Reilly Tanner’s your brother?”

  “Yes. And he asked the nurse to call me, but someone refuses to let me past.”

  “Well, you gotta admit, you look more like a co-ed than a deputy. Especially in that getup.” A glimmer of amusement lit Sanders’ eyes.

  “Funny.” Her tone said it was anything but.

  Leaning against the wall next to the door, Sanders eyed her. “I would’ve thought you’d appreciate our efforts to protect him.”

  “Protect him?” Her stomach lurched. A dull buzz rattled inside her ears.

  “Yeah. You don’t know what happened?”

  “No one’s told me anything! I don’t know what happened, how Reilly’s doing, or even why he’s here.”

  Sanders stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes never leaving her face. “Your brother witnessed a shooting.”

  Reilly. A witness.

  “Was he shot?”

  Sanders shook his head. “At this point, we don’t know a lot. Been waiting for your brother to come around so we can talk to him.”

  While the knowledge that he wasn’t shot should’ve eased the coil in her stomach, it only squeezed it tighter. “So can I go in or what?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded at the door. “If he’s up, lemme know.”

  The rookie slid aside and Lana pushed the door open.

  The drawn blinds cast darkness around the room, but she didn’t give her eyes time to adjust to the dim lighting before approaching the bed.

  Uncharacteristically messy dark blond hair topped a face that looked much too pale. Minor scratches marred his cheeks and forehead and something resembling a rug burn darkened his arms in splotchy patches.

  The reddish stain on his hands told the rest of the story. Not only had he witnessed the shooting, he’d tried to help.

  An ache settled in her chest. Hopefully he hadn’t known the victim.

  She gently touched his arm. “Ri?”

  His eyelids flipped open and he jerked to a sitting position. The tempo doubled on the heart monitor next to his bed. Dilated eyes flicked from one end of the room to the other before locking on her.

  A sigh slid out as he relaxed against the mattress. “Hey, you.”

  “No, hey, you.” The response followed automatically, as it had ever since they’d created the exchange as teenagers. “How are you?”

  “Alive.” His raspy voice sounded painful. “Feel like crud.”

  “Sound like it, too.”

  “Thanks.” He reached for the wire-rimmed glasses on the table next to the bed and slid them on.

  “What happened?”

  “Shooting–”

  “No, to you. Was it your asthma?”

  Moisture glimmered in his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah. Will was shot. Dead?”

  “I don’t know.” Judging from the way Sanders had spoken of the shooting, she guessed the answer was yes. “Let me get the detective.”

  She went to the door and waved Sanders in. A chair scraped across the floor as Sanders dragged it closer to Reilly’s bed.

  Reilly shifted to look at the detective. “Will… okay?”

  “The kid was gone when the EMTs got there.”

  A tear clumped Reilly’s lashes as his eyes slid closed. Lana squeezed his hand. The news didn’t seem to surprise him, but he’d likely clung to a sliver of hope that this Will guy had survived.

  Will. Not a name she recognized. And she knew most of the attorneys working at the prosecutor’s office. “Someone from work?”

  A slight nod answered her. “Intern. Will Underwood.”

  Will Underwood. That was odd. There was a Will Underwood at church.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  One look at the misery on Reilly’s face confirmed the truth. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from verifying what she already knew in her heart to be true. “Bob and Myra’s son?”

  “Yeah. Got him the job–”

  “Ri, this isn’t your fault. He could’ve died doing anything.”

  While Reilly might be the one with asthma, Lana was finding it hard to breathe. Barely concealed tears scorched her eyes and the lump blocking her throat rivaled her fist in size.

  Will. The dark-haired kid she’d spent several summers babysitting. Who’d gone from being short and scrawny to standing a good head taller than her in a single summer. Who, in spite of the eight years between them, had always had a not-so-secret crush on her.

  Who would tell Bob and Myra that their only child had been gunned down?

  Any question as to whether or not she’d have to call her parents had been put to rest. Bob and Myra had attended her Dad’s church for as long as she could remember. They’d want him to perform the funeral.

  And given that Reilly was involved, it’d be better if her parents heard the news from her rather than an outside source.

  She just hoped the news didn’t put a damper on the wedding her Dad was set to perform this weekend in Daytona Beach.

  The chair creaked as Sanders leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Walk me through what happened.”

  “Leaving work. Little after seven. Car pulled in the lot–”

  “What kind of car?”

  “White sedan. Four door. Volkswagon. Tinted windows.”

  Lana tried not to cringe as each word grated through his throat. Years ago, she’d witnessed one of Reilly’s worst asthma attacks and even now, remembered the intense coughing. His throat had to be completely raw.

  Not that he’d be likely to complain about it.

  If Sanders noticed anything off about Reilly’s voice, he didn’t let on. “Did it look like a newer car? Or was it pretty old?”

  “New.”

  Sanders jotted it all down. “Okay. Then what?”

  “Gun at passenger window. Will shot–”

  “Did you see the shooter?”

  “Light blond hair, tan skin.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  Reilly shook his head.

  Dang. Reilly knew just enough for the killer to consider him a threat, but not enough for them to make an arrest.

  “I’ll get a sketch artist down here.” Sanders leaned back in the chair. “Go on.”

  “Shot Will. Tried to shoot me.” What little voice he’d had was practically gone.

  Reilly’s hand shook as he reached for the glass of water sitting on the table next to his bed. She beat him to it and brought it close so he could drink.

  Enough was enough. If Reilly kept talking, his throat was going to hurt even worse. “Look, Detective Sanders, his throat’s had enough. Any chance we can finish this up tomorrow?”

  “No can do, deputy. You of all people should know that.”

  She did, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

  “I’m okay.” Reilly coughed and couldn’t quite hide a wince. “Ran to van. Hid underneath. Sirens scared them away.”

  The fragmented description was evidently enough to satisfy Sanders, who simply nodded. “Anything else?”

  “They knew my name.”

  This was not good. In fact, it was bad. Really, really bad.

  Reilly wasn’t a celebrity. Or well-known. The only way those guys – who Reilly hadn’t recognized – would know his name was if Reilly had been targeted.

  “They spoke to you?” Surprise tinged Sanders’ voice. “What’d they say? Exact words.”

  “Dead meat, Tanner. Van couldn’t protect me.”

  Sanders jotted down the words. “Okay, you said the sirens scared them away. Did you get a plate number?”

  “Tried. Too late.”

  “Okay, then what?”

  “Woke up in ambulance.”

  Silence stretched. Lana watched Sanders make a few notations. “Has forensics uncovered anything useful?”

  Sanders leaned back in his chair. “Well, the one slug that wasn’t mangled appears to be from a .38. Got a few tread impressions from where they burned rubber taking off. So far, that�
��s it.”

  Reilly’s eyes slid from Sanders to Lana. “Think… try again?”

  That was really the big question here, wasn’t it? The killer hadn’t come right out and said they were after Reilly, only that they’d missed him. The second threat could’ve been more about eliminating a witness than a targeted attempt on Reilly’s life.

  Except that they’d known his name. She couldn’t dismiss the importance of that little detail.

  Without a clear, definitive threat, securing the protection under which she wanted to bury him would be challenging.

  She sighed. “I don’t know. But until I feel better about this, you’re staying with me.”

  “No. Bad enough Will’s dead. Not you, too.”

  “I’m not giving you a choice in the matter.”

  Reilly’s eyes narrowed. “Pulling rank. Older.”

  “You’re taller, too. But I carry a gun and handcuffs. And you’re not in any condition to argue.”

  A muffled sound from across the bed drew her attention to Sanders, who appeared to be barely containing his laughter.

  Okay. So maybe it was kind of funny. All the more so since Reilly seemed to think he had a shot at winning this argument. “Do you have a stubborn older brother, detective?”

  “Or pushy sister?” Reilly didn’t remove his blood-shot blue eyes from Lana.

  “I do have a kid sister. But she’s pretty docile.”

  “Lucky you.” Irritation bled from Reilly’s tone.

  “Any idea why someone would want to kill Underwood?”

  “No. Nice kid.” Reilly’s words were growing harder to hear.

  “Let’s say you were the target. I imagine you’ve got lots of enemies. Anyone in particular stand out?”

  “Rosetti.”

  No trace of emotion flickered across Sanders’ face, but his voice carried a note of surprise. “You worked that case?”

  “Yeah. Frank hates me. Saw it on his face.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Several seconds passed before Reilly shook his head. “Don’t know.”

  “We’ll look into it.” Sanders pushed to his feet. “I’ll get a sketch artist down here tomorrow.”

  Pulling her card from her pocket, Lana passed it to Sanders. “I doubt we’ll still be here. Call me and I’ll make sure it happens.”

  Sanders nodded and left the room.

  When Lana turned back to Reilly, she found narrowed eyes regarding her. “My job. Protect you.”

  “I know.” Had to be a big brother thing. “And you’ve done a great job, but it’s my turn to step up.”

  “Watched Will die. Not you, too.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.” Drawing a calming breath, she gentled her tone. “Do you know if they’re keeping you overnight?”

  He nodded.

  Okay then. The next thing on her agenda would be to find out if Sanders planned to keep the officer posted outside the door all night or if it’d been temporary until Reilly had given his statement.

  If the officer stayed, she could head home and try to get a good night’s sleep.

  If not, the chair in which she sat would be her perch for the night. Under no circumstances was she leaving Reilly unguarded, especially in his current condition.

  “After you’re released, you can stay in my guest room. Or I can crash on your couch. It’s your call.”

  “Neither.”

  “Fine. I’ll park my car outside your apartment and stay up all night watching the place.”

  A breath hissed through his clenched jaw. “Stupidest thing… heard.”

  “Stupid or not, I’ll do what I have to do. I’ve seen too many cases end badly where people thought they were safe or that they could handle a threat on their own. You will not join that list.”

  The pause lengthened. His silence spoke of displeasure more clearly than his words ever would.

  “Your place. More room.”

  Safer, too. If someone was after Reilly, his place would likely be their first stop.

  Straightening, she placed a hand on his arm. “Thanks, Ri. Just a few days, maybe a week, and if there’s no sign of danger, I promise I’ll back off. Now, you should probably rest that voice.”

  Not to mention the rest of him.

  Creases marred the skin by his eyes and she couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so pale. A few hours of sleep – assuming he could sleep – would go a long way toward making him feel better.

  She stepped into the hallway, only to find the corridor empty. No sign of the police anywhere.

  Maybe the nurse would bring her a blanket.

  She turned back into the room and rang for the nurse. Next she’d have to call their parents.

  While she waited, she prayed she was blowing this thing out of proportion. But the trepidation settling in her gut warned of unrivaled danger.

  Two

  Phones don’t ring in the middle of the night with good news.

  It was the first thought to cross Lana’s mind as her cell phone jerked her from sleep. The clock read four-thirteen.

  Definitely not good news.

  Thirty-two hours since the attempt on Reilly’s life, less than twenty-four since he’d been released from the hospital. How much more disaster could be crammed into a two-day period?

  She grabbed the phone, glanced at the caller ID. An unfamiliar number.

  “Hello.” Sleep made her voice scratchy.

  “Deputy Tanner?” The booming voice seemed slightly familiar.

  She sat up, all sleep slipping from her mind. “Yes?”

  “Detective Sanders here. Is Reilly with you?”

  “He’s across the hall. What’s going on?”

  “There was a fire. Preliminary findings indicate arson.”

  “Reilly’s place.” So much for any question of whether or not Reilly was being targeted. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s a total loss. I tried calling him, but it went to voice mail.”

  “I’ll let him know.” How was she going to tell Reilly? Part of her was glad that Sanders hadn’t been able to reach him. Maybe she could find a way to soften…

  Wait. Sanders worked homicide. “What’s homicide doing with an arson case? Who died?”

  “We’re still working on that. The body was inside Tanner’s apartment.”

  Reilly lived alone. His apartment should’ve been empty.

  The air solidified in her chest; her fingers gripped the phone so tightly they throbbed.

  Could Reilly have gone home for some reason?

  No. Not possible.

  It’d only been an hour since a nightmare had awoken them both. The timeframe wouldn’t allow…

  At this time of night, the drive would take less than twenty minutes.

  But she’d made him park his car in the garage so it would be out of sight, and her car was parked in the driveway, blocking access to the garage. In order to get his car, he would’ve had to move her car, something he wouldn’t do without asking.

  Maybe.

  But what if he’d felt guilty about disrupting her sleep? Or needed something important from his place and hadn’t wanted to wake her? That sounded very much like something he’d do.

  And she’d made it easy by leaving her keys on the kitchen table.

  She threw off the covers and raced for the door.

  “Tanner? Everything all right?”

  Dang. She’d forgotten that Sanders was still on the line. “Give me a sec.”

  She crossed the hall and tapped on the door.

  No answer.

  A tremor shook up her legs. He had to be in there.

  She knocked again, didn’t wait for an answer before twisting the knob and pushing the door open. “Ri?”

  The lump on the bed bolted upright. “Lana? What’s wrong?”

  Thank God.

  She steadied her breathing. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

  Stepping into the hall, she refocused on Sanders. “He’s h
ere and he’s fine. No ID on the body?”

  “No. Bone structure makes us think male, but it’s gonna be impossible to run through facial rec. We’ll be waiting on dental or DNA.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. Keep us posted?” She held no illusions that he’d actually follow through, even if he agreed, but maybe he’d extend a little professional courtesy.

  “Sure thing. Word of advice: I’d get your boy into WITSEC. Now.”

  “That was going to be my next call.” Witness security – with all of its rules, routine disruption, and lack of privacy – would be torture for Reilly, but at least it would keep him alive.

  She turned and almost smacked into Reilly’s chest.

  The eggplant rings under his eyes looked more pronounced and lines creased his forehead. He really could’ve used about eight hours more sleep.

  “What body?” Some of the scratchiness had dissipated over the last twelve hours, but his voice still contained an unusually rough edge.

  Ugh. The hall was not the place to have this conversation. “Let’s head into the kitchen.”

  She brushed by him and led the way to the table, turning on lights as she went.

  As soon as they were both seated, Reilly asked again, “What body?”

  Sugarcoating had never been one of her strengths. “There was a fire at your place tonight. A body was recovered inside.”

  Seconds slid by.

  He didn’t blink, just stared at her as if trying to determine what her words meant. “Inside?”

  “Yes. Any idea who it could be?”

  “No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I’d recognize–”

  “I guess there was too much damage.”

  “Oh.” A breath shuddered from deep inside his chest. “Someone else is dead because of me.”

  “Don’t. This isn’t your fault.” There had to be something that would make him feel better. “There shouldn’t have been anyone inside your place. Maybe whoever set the fire didn’t make it out in time.”

  “Great. So I’ve attracted the world’s worst arsonist.” He tried for a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

  Any question about whether or not Reilly was in danger had officially been laid to rest. Although if she had to guess, she’d say that the truth hadn’t quite hit him yet. “You know what this means, don’t you?”