In Love and Rescue: When love is the perfect rescue... Read online

  Phillip pulled the photo in his direction. “Oh wow, she’s gorgeous. You look a lot like her. What did you say happened to her?”

  Wren took a deep breath. “She was, well they say that she was, uh, murdered.”

  Phillip’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”

  She nervously squeezed her fingers. “She lives in the DC area. She was on vacation in Jamaica when they told us that she was missing. Then, within hours of them telling us that she was missing, they told us that she died in a fire at the hotel she was staying in. A couple days later, they told us that her case was being handled as a homicide.”

  Phillip continued to stare at the picture as his mind pieced all of the information together. “Did they say why?”

  “No.”

  “Were they able to recover a body?”

  Wren shook her head. “We’re getting the information a little at a time. Actually, they’re saying that she was killed by,” she glanced again at his forearm, “a former military officer.”

  He noticed her glance at his tattoo. “Unlikely, but not impossible,” he defended with a cordial smile.

  Wren swallowed, her nerves again under attack. “His name is Desmond Harding and, trust me when I say this, I know that he didn’t kill her.”

  She stopped when she noticed Phillip’s brows narrow.

  “Did you say Desmond Harding?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not possible.” He shook his head and pushed the picture back towards Wren. “Are you sure that they said Desmond Harding is the one that killed her?”

  He searched through his phone.

  “This man?”

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s him. You know him?”

  Again Phillip fell back in his seat. “Quite well. He owns a defense agency over on the East Coast. We served together.”

  Wren was still waiting for more information. “So, why is it impossible?”

  Phillip slowly shook his head. “It’s just not Desmond. Let’s just say that he would be a perfect candidate for the Secret Service. He puts others’ safety first, his life second. And, it’s not like he has to think about it. He just goes into situations like that, even if he’s known the person only a few minutes. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Confused, Wren prodded for more information. “So, are you thinking that someone else probably did it?”

  Phillip paused. “First of all, why do they have him as a suspect?”

  “They said that they recovered his DNA from the crime scene.”

  Phillip burst out laughing, but apologized when he noticed a flash of emotion across Wren’s face.

  “I’m sorry, but even if Desmond did commit some kind of violent crime, they would never recover his DNA from the crime scene. A rookie cop wouldn’t even be that careless. Tell me more.”

  Wren explained about how they claimed that Desmond was the primary suspect, as many details about the case that she knew, and even tossed in Eddie Jarvis’ escape. In their Podunk little city, she wasn’t at all surprised that Phillip hadn’t heard anything about it. Actually, she found that she preferred it this way. The odds of Phillip actually knowing who Desmond personally was were probably several million to one, so finally, things were working in her favor.

  “So, this guy, Eddie, just up and disappears from transit, and no one even bats an eye?” Phillip asked. “Even if he wasn’t connected to your sister’s case, he’s still a fugitive. You would expect some buzz about that.”

  She fought to contain her excitement. “Yes, I thought the same thing.”

  “Or at least an attempt to get you guys some form of protective detail,” he continued. “A man that calculatedly disappears from transit has power, and a man with that much power doesn’t want it taken away from him. So, as soon as he’s out, he’s going to go after the person who tried. That makes your family a target, Wren.”

  Her heart thudded. “So, what should we do?”

  He stood and moved to a filing cabinet in the far corner of the room. “First, I’m going to see if I can get in contact with an old friend of ours, Doug Casey. He’s actually an FBI liaison now, does some work with homeland security, and one of the best when it comes to Intel. You can ask this guy anything and he’ll have an answer for you. I haven’t talked to Desmond in a few years, but he and Doug were very close. Like brothers. If anyone knows what Desmond’s up to, it’ll be Doug.”

  He pulled out a tattered manila folder. “Do you live alone or with your parents, Wren?”

  “Alone,” she answered.

  “Can we change that?” His eyes landed on her. “Do you think that you could move back in them for a little while, or is it too far out of your way?”

  “Do you really think—?”

  “Yes,” Phillip answered before she could finish. “I really think that’s it’s better for us to be more cautious than naïve. I’ve seen some things in my lifetime that you wouldn’t believe even if I told you, so I always err on the side of caution. Always.”

  Noticing the conviction in his eyes, she didn’t question him any further.

  “That’s the first thing that I need for you to do,” he elaborated. “Pack up the things you need and stay with your parents for a while. I’d like for you to have that done before the weekend is over.”

  She agreed.

  “I’m going to send someone over to help you,” he added. “I’m also going to need to have a talk with your folks to get their consent to have someone sit on their house.”

  There was still one nagging question that Wren wished she didn’t have to ask, but knew that she wouldn’t sleep until she did.

  “Sergeant Thompson?”

  “Phillip,” he corrected.

  “Phillip. I know that this might be an unusual question, but why do you believe me? Everything I’m bringing you is circumstantial and even a bit far-fetched. What makes you believe me?”

  He smiled. “Honestly, when my grandfather told me what you guys needed help with, I was prepared to do my best to help you work through your sister’s death. To help you cope and deal with the different stages of grief. But, like I told you, I’ve seen a ton of things in my brief lifetime. I’ve seen brothers betray brothers, sisters betray sisters, mothers kill their own children, and a government turn its back on its own people. When you tell me that a convicted murderer just disappears from lockup and no one bats an eye, that catches my attention. When you tell me that the same murderer has not yet been publicly connected to a disappearance involving the attorney who put him away, that catches my attention. And when you tell me that one of my brothers, one of the best of us who has historically put his life on the line for others, ups and kills a young woman for absolutely no reason, I call a foul. Trust me, even if I end up thigh deep in it, I’ll wade through the bullshit until I find the answer I’m looking for. That’s why I believe you.”

  Her face brightened and tears sprang forth in her eyes. “I really appreciate that, Phillip.”

  “It’s no problem, Wren.”

  She found that she enjoyed the sound of her name rolling off of his tongue. “There’s one more thing, Phillip. Another reason why I’m pretty sure Desmond didn’t kill my sister.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because Desmond is my sister’s husband.”

  She pulled up Desmond and Larke’s wedding picture on her phone. Phillip took the phone and studied the photo for a moment, then shook his head.

  “We’ve got a lot of wading to do, Wren.”

  Chapter Ten

  The minute he heard the police sirens, Desmond knew that he and Larke had been made. He returned to the window to find police cars quickly approaching with their sirens blaring, and a few already surrounding the ground floor. Officers hopped from the vehicles and swarmed into the lobby. Meanwhile, he had yet to formulate a plan, and Larke was still in the shower.

  “Larke, we have to move,” he called, bounding over to the door. The shower ran for a few more seconds before the bathroom went
silent.

  “What?”

  “The police are here.”

  Larke wrapped a towel around her body and opened the door. “What? How?”

  He slipped inside the bathroom, grabbed her clothes, and quickly helped her pull them on.

  “I don’t know how, but they know I’m here.”

  As she was fastening the button on her jeans, they heard banging on the front door. “It’s Agent Campbell,” a voice boomed from the other side. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few more questions Ms. Clayton.”

  Desmond instinctively put an arm across Larke’s body. Unfortunately, his mind was blank. He’d thought for sure that they’d at least have a couple of hours to regroup before meeting up with Lawrence, but something had happened. Somehow, they’d figured out that Larke wasn’t who she said she was, and that he was in the hotel. That, he hadn’t planned on happening so soon.

  Larke moved around his arm to face him. “Des, I can handle this part. I’ll just go talk to him and—”

  “No, Larke,” he cut her off. “Just let me think. I’ll find a way for us to get out of here. There’s no guarantee that he won’t shoot first and ask questions later.”

  His nerve shook slightly when an image of a bullet piercing her flesh ran across his mind, but before he had the chance to say another word, she slipped out of the bathroom door. He reached for her hand but she was already standing at front door where another series of hard knocks resounded.

  “I’m here,” she yelled.

  Desmond could only stare at her in disbelief. Didn’t she hear a word that he’d just said? Did she not realize just how important she was to him?

  “Ms. Clayton,” Lawrence’s voice yelled. “I just would like to have a word with you. You may be in danger and not even know it.”

  Even though Desmond was advising her not to respond, Larke knew that they had no choice. There was no way out.

  “Ok,” she yelled back. “But I’ll only talk to you, Agent Campbell.”

  A series of light footsteps retreated down the hall.

  “I want you to let me in so we can talk,” he responded.

  Larke hesitated. “You,” she glanced at Desmond, “you might have Desmond Harding with you.”

  On the other side of the door, Lawrence waved his hand to tell his backup to move farther down the hallway. “What do you mean?”

  Larke mustered emotion in her voice. “I see the police cars. He’s here, isn’t he?”

  Lawrence’s brows wrinkled. “Let’s not play this game, Stacy. Witnesses place a man with you at the airport and there was no man with you when we spoke downstairs. You told me that you were here alone.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t lie to you. I am alone. And don’t call me that. My name is not Stacy.”

  She placed a hand on the knob and Desmond felt his stomach lurch as he heard it turn. Lawrence cautiously took a few steps back and retrieved the gun from its holster. He didn’t want to hurt her because she probably had vital information about Desmond’s whereabouts, but there was no way to know if she was armed at that point.

  “Then what is it?” he asked. “What’s your name?”

  When the door fully opened, the long hair, beauty mark and sunglasses were gone from her face. Standing in front of him was a ghost. The face of a woman who was supposed to be dead, as far as he knew.

  “It’s Larke,” she answered, her eyes fixed on the gun in his hand. He motioned to the men down the hallway that it was safe before he put his gun in the holster. Larke waved him inside and he tentatively followed.

  Not completely sure what was happening, he did a quick search of the room before his eyes settled back onto her face: five-foot six, creamy complexion, curly hair, and light brown eyes. She fit the description of Larke Tapley, except that this woman was alive. What was going on?

  “Larke...Tapley?” He asked. “But how?”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”

  He pointed to the gun that he’d just returned to its holster, but she shook her head. Her eyes then diverted to something behind him and instinctively, he reached towards his hip. Before he had a chance to retrieve the gun, his arm was pinned behind his back and he was pushed face first into the wall. Even without seeing the person, he knew that it was Desmond.

  “If my guys don’t hear from me in the next four minutes, they’re going to shoot their way in here,” Lawrence threatened.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Desmond reassured before retrieving the gun. He then nodded Larke over to pat him down and remove a second weapon from his ankle holster. When they were sure that he didn’t have anything else on his body, Desmond released him.

  “Will somebody explain to me what’s going on?” Lawrence demanded. “You, you’re supposed to be dead. You’re the one who killed her. If she’s not dead, who did you kill?”

  Desmond leaned against the wall. “No one. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Look,” Larke began, “something major is happening here and Eddie Jarvis, not Desmond, is behind it. I never died in any fire in Jamaica. Des is the only reason I’m standing in front of you right now.”

  Lawrence looked at Desmond.

  “I’ll never do anything to hurt this woman,” Desmond avowed.

  “The truth,” she continued, “is that virtually everything that you’ve probably been told up until this point has been a lie. It was Jarvis’ men in Jamaica that tried to kill me. Now that he’s no longer in custody, there’s no doubt in mind that he’ll be coming after me.”

  Lawrence placed his hand over his mouth and walked across the room to take a seat on top of one of the coffee tables. His hands then moved to his head. Cautiously, Larke went over to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. When he looked up at her, his eyes were glazed over.

  “You have to be telling the truth if you’re standing in front of me,” he realized. A voice came over the radio attached to his hip and he responded that he was okay and to stand down.

  “I was prepared to be the one to bring you in,” he said to Desmond. “Get a big commendation and time off so that I could go see my daughter.”

  Desmond and Larke exchanged glances.

  “You mean Twila?” Desmond asked.

  “Taina,” Lawrence corrected. “Out of the blue, I received a package at my office and in it, there’s a birth certificate with my name on it. After all these years of feeling like a failure because I couldn’t ever give my wife the children she so desperately wanted, I was listed as a father to a baby girl. At first I thought it was a joke and was about to confront some of the guys at the precinct about it, but then I noticed the mother’s name: Corina Bailey. No one in the office knew anything about Corina, so that’s how I knew that it was legit. She and I had a very tumultuous, passionate relationship when we were both in our early twenties. It was one of those fight-scream-yell and then make passionate love types of relationships. It finally ended when she tossed me out in the middle of the night saying that she couldn’t be around me anymore. She never told me that she was pregnant. But, why wait this long to tell me?”

  He began to pace in the small space.

  “She didn’t even leave a contact number. I’ll admit that I did use some of the department’s resources to try to track down a number for her, but it’s as if she fell off the map.”

  Desmond and Larke exchanged another set of glances as realization set in. Not only was he unaware that both Taina and her mother had died, he also had no idea that she’d been a twin.

  “Agent Campbell,” Larke began, searching her mind for the right words to say. She cast a desperate glance in Desmond’s direction, but he only shook his head. There was no good way to deliver the news that the daughter he’d waited years to meet was gone.

  “We’re here because of Taina,” Larke continued. “During the course of our investigation, we found out that Taina’s boyfriend was linked to Eddie Jarvis and that she had a father named Lawrence
Campbell that worked for Miami FBI.”

  Confused, Lawrence remained silent. Although his mind was rattling with questions, from Larke’s tone, he could tell that there was more to be said.

  “You see, it seems that her boyfriend found out something about Jarvis that he wasn’t supposed to know. Then, we believe he passed that information on to Taina. When Eddie found out that her boyfriend knew something, he had him killed.”

  Lawrence’s face hardened. “What are you telling me?”

  Larke sucked in a deep breath. “Somehow, Eddie found out that he’d passed information on to Taina. So, Eddie had her killed as well.”

  Lawrence sprang forward and Desmond immediately crossed the room to where Larke stood.

  “This can’t be true,” Lawrence denied.

  “It is,” Larke confirmed. “You see, Taina has a twin sister named Twila. Corina had two baby girls that day, not one. Unfortunately, Corina passed away due to complications during childbirth, which is probably why you couldn’t find any recent contact information for her.”

  His hand went to his mouth. “I didn’t even think to check death records. It never crossed my mind.” Then his head popped up. “Two girls? Twila? Is she still alive?”

  Larke nodded. “Yes, Twila is alive. We actually met with her.”

  A tiny smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “What is she like?”

  Larke returned the small smile. “She’s a tiny little thing, but she’s got some pretty strong shoulders. The same grandparents that raised both she and Taina, she’s now taking care of. I would say that she’s wise beyond her years, and she loved her sister very much.”

  Larke went to the suitcase, pulled out the backpack, and handed him the photos. “Your investigative genes run in the family. Twila gave these to us as part of a folder she kept of Taina’s things. We think that her boyfriend found out that Eddie was smuggling drugs, and she tried to reach out to you for help.”

  He flipped through the photos a few times and his shoulders fell when he noticed his name on the back in his daughter’s handwriting. Closing his eyes, he clasped his hands in front of his face as though saying a prayer. Then, after a few moments, his eyes popped open.