The Last Execution (7 page)

J.T.’s feet were lifted off the ground when arms the size of a gorilla’s wrapped around him. Davey Campbell finally set J.T. down and pounded on his back. A welcome and friendly face in a city of strangers.

“Everywhere and nowhere, Davey. How about you?” The last time J.T. had heard of Davey, which had been years ago, he’d been drafted to play linebacker for the Atlanta Falcons. Looking at him now, he’d gained far too heavy to play any sport. His old friend might run half a block before he gave out.

“I outgrew the nickname. Folks call me David.” He gave J.T. the once over and finished with a nod. “You look fit. I heard the Feds recruited you right after you left the Marines. Then you fell off the radar.”

“After Quantico, I spent a few years in the Chicago office. Speaking of recruited, weren’t you a big football star?”

David laughed. Not a jovial sound, a harsh bitterness bled through. “Not for long. I got hurt my rookie year. They dropped my ass so fast I wasn’t sure what the hell happened. What are you doing on this side of town? It’s not a usual hangout for law enforcement. You working a case?”

J.T. looked to the stars as he blew out a breath, not wanting to discuss his mission. His high school friends knew all about his mother’s drinking problem. She’d showed up at Nana’s one day and actually stuck around for the better part of a year. Then dear old Mom cleaned out Nana’s purse and ran off with a new love. His experiences as a kid made a believer out of him. There’d be no marriage and no children for him.

“No. This is personal.” He handed the old snapshot to David. “I’m hunting Roxanne Noble or whatever her last name is now.”

David studied the picture for a minute before passing it back. Pity clouded his face and he shook his head. J.T. remembered when that look used to hurt. Now sympathy bounced off his thick hide.
Yeah.
Right.
So loosen the jaw.

“I’ve been working this side of midtown for the past year and haven’t seen her around. Have you filed a missing persons report?”

“Hell no,” J.T. said on a huff of air. “There’s a difference between missing and not wanting to be found. She doesn’t want any part of being located.”

“I understand. I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

J.T. handed David his card. “Thanks. I’ll take all the help I can get. My grandmother’s been asking for her.”

“No problem. We’ve got to get our passenger checked in.” David turned and waved his hand to let his partner know he was ready to roll. “Stay in touch,” he said over his shoulder.

“You, too,” J.T. called out. He jaywalked through traffic to his car and hit the highway fast. Soon the bars, filled with whiskey, vodka, and ice-cold beer were in his rearview mirror. Playing Russian roulette was a fool’s game, and every time he got close to alcohol, he put another bullet in the cylinder. How many spins did he have left before he pulled the trigger?

****

Tuesday, April 27, 10:00 a.m.

“There’s a gentleman downstairs asking for you.” Leigh turned away from her discussion with J.T. and discovered the administrative assistant was speaking to her.

“Who is he?”

“Didn’t give his name, but he specifically asked for you.”

Leigh’s heart hit the superhighway. Only a handful of people knew about her new assignment. Atlanta PD would’ve been allowed to come up. “Must be Dad. Something’s wrong.”

She jumped to her feet and started for the elevator. Her stomach dropped when J.T. matched her stride for stride. He reached around her and hit the down arrow. She whirled to face him.

“Don’t argue.” His eyebrows dipped. “If there’s trouble I’ll be there.”

The doors slid open, and he stepped inside. The determined set of his jaw and his insistence he’d be there for her confused her. “I appreciate the offer. Really, your presence isn’t necessary.”

“Sure it is.”

A silent eternity passed while they descended. Horrible scenarios rushed through her mind. The fire in her stomach increased with each passing floor. At last, the bell dinged, and the door slid open. Leigh rushed out to face the problem, praying Ethan wasn’t hurt.

Her gaze swept across the lobby full of strangers’ faces. Confused, she turned toward the guard. A chill raced across her arms. A warning? Of what?

“Detective McBride, your guest wasn’t cleared for an appointment.” He handed her a business card. “However, Agent Noble can escort him, or you can use one of the meeting rooms down here.”

“I understand.” Leigh read the information on the embossed card. Why would an attorney who specialized in family law want to speak with her? Her brain scrambled. “The lobby’s fine.”

“I’ll wait for you.” J.T. leaned against the desk.

Leigh crossed the lobby to where man dressed in a tailored dark gray suit stood. He straightened his jacket and approached her. Salt and pepper hair, leather briefcase in hand, she didn’t need his card to make him as an attorney. An expensive one. What did he want with her?

“Morgan Anderson.”

She accepted his outstretched hand. “Mr. Anderson, I’m Leigh McBride. How can I help you?” His limp grasp and sweaty palm warned her. His mission made him uncomfortable.

“May we speak privately?”

“What about?”

His dark brown eyes went flat and emotionless. “Your son. A subject I’m sure you’d prefer to discuss in private.”

Heat flamed in her lungs, her heart burned. “Something’s happened to Ethan?”

He glanced in both directions. “Please. I believe you’re going to want this conversation kept private.”

“Has my son been injured?” She forced her knees to stay rigid.

“I’m sure he’s fine. The lobby of the Federal building isn’t a good place to have this conversation.”

“Tell me what you want.” Comfortable Ethan was okay, Leigh’s patience with the attorney’s evasive answers ended.

“I’m here on behalf of Jason Carrington. He is Ethan’s father. Correct?”

Leigh backed up a step. She needed space. Space to breath. Space to think.

“No, he is not.” The whispered words seethed from deep in her soul. “I don’t know what game you’re running, and I don’t care. You and Jason Carrington stay away from me and my son.”

“Mr. Carrington retained me...”

“Wait here,” she interrupted. What she had to say should be said privately. She pulled from her deepest reserve and returned to the front desk. With shoulders back and a forced smile, she requested a private space. Leigh avoided J.T.’s gaze, afraid his ever-watchful eyes would pick up on her fear.

“Room D is empty.” The guard indicated the south hall.

Leigh thanked the guard and motioned Morgan Anderson to follow her. By the time she closed the door, her hands were shaking. Adrenaline she’d held in check exploded through her body. The urge to punch the arrogant bastard surged to the tips of her fingers. She curled her hands into tight balls.

“Talk fast.” She checked the time when she turned to face him. “You’ve got five minutes.”

“May we sit?”

“There’s no need.” She glanced down. “Four and a half minutes.”

“Mr. Carrington’s a changed man. If he’s fathered a son, he wants the opportunity to do the right thing.”

A nightmare she’d lived with for almost seven years became reality with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. His words slammed into her and shook her foundation. The earth shifted under her feet. Seven years ago, she’d made the mistake of trusting the wrong man, and Ethan’s life wouldn’t be ruined because of her. Maternal fury replaced temporary shock and Leigh moved closer. Inches away from Anderson’s face, she enunciated her words carefully and clearly. “Read the conditions of Carrington’s parole. If he comes near me, I’ll send him back to prison. Don’t doubt my sincerity on this matter.”

“Carlton and Elizabeth Carrington believe in their son and are willing to spare no expense supporting him in his cause.” Anderson continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Jason Carrington is a skilled liar without a conscience. He convinced his parents of his innocence seven years ago. If you think their money scares me, you’re dead wrong.”

“You can end his speculation by agreeing to a paternity test.”

A wave of nausea hit Leigh. Her mind rebelled against his ludicrous and threatening statement. “What kind of an attorney are you? Did you advise your client he’s wasting his time?” Leigh flexed her fingers, anything to slow her racing heart. “Your five minutes are up.”

Morgan Anderson didn’t flinch. “Mr. Carrington is committed to being a good father to the boy.”

“Tell your client to go to hell.” Leigh reached for the doorknob.

“The Carrington family can survive another scandal. Can you?” His friendly voice had turned low and menacing.

“Damn right I can.” Leigh jerked the door open and walked out.

True to his word, J.T. had waited for her. Feet apart, arms folded across his broad chest, he looked more like a bodyguard than an FBI agent. Leigh’s blood fired red-hot. She prayed the anger didn’t show on her face.

“Something wrong?” J.T.’s gaze tracked the attorney until he’d exited the front door.

“No. Thank God.” She lied with as much conviction as she could muster. “A huge misunderstanding.”

When the elevator doors closed, she leaned back against the mirrored wall and held on to the brass handrail for support. She tightened her fingers until pain shot up her wrist. Questions flooded her mind. How’d the sorry bastard find out about Ethan? How’d he know where to find her today? She’d protect her son from him at all costs. J.T. stood silently, studying her face, but he didn’t pry. She appreciated his restraint.

She walked straight to Casey’s office. She paused, waiting until he finished a phone call.

Casey motioned her in with a smile. “You and J.T. headed out?”

“Not yet.” She stepped to the edge of his desk. “You have a minute?”

“Sure.” He pointed at a chair, indicating she should sit. “What’s on your mind?”

“How much do you know about me?” The fear her story would get out weighed heavily on her mind. If Casey had gotten curious about her work background, he could’ve requested her complete file. Had the chief shared her personal information?

“The chief and I spoke at length before your assignment. I didn’t hear anything to make me doubt your ability to stop a murderer or to contribute to the team.” He moved around his desk and sat in the chair next to her. “Why do you ask?”

She blinked hard when tears pushed their way to the surface. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She’d get through this by keeping her head and wits under control.

“I may have a legal issue on the horizon.” She choked on the knot in her throat, waited a beat, and then continued. “I give you my word, before I embarrass you or the team, I’ll request to be removed as liaison.”

“I know enough about your achievements on the police force to expect you’re capable of handling any rough spots in your personal life. You’ll keep me apprised, and let me know if I can help.”

His gaze was locked on hers, making it hard for Leigh to get a read on Casey. His face was a study in non-emotion.

“This whole thing should be short lived. Thanks for understanding.” She left his office more uncertain than when she’d gone in.

The possibility the Chief had shared more than her work background nagged at her.

She had to keep the situation with Jason from spiraling into a tornado out of control.

****

Tuesday, April 27, 11:00 a.m
.

J.T.’s lip reading ability had provided him with the name of the man who’d visited and upset Leigh. He’d pulled up Morgan Anderson’s website before Leigh walked inside Casey’s office. Anderson practiced family law.
Hello?
The word family swam in front of his eyes. The attorney’s address on Clairmont Road placed him in one of Atlanta’s highest rent districts and explained the high-dollar clothes. Whatever news he’d delivered had shaken Leigh to the core.

J.T. had stood close to her the return trip in the elevator. After her meeting, the color from her face had disappeared, and her entire body trembled. She hadn’t collapsed. She’d supported herself. Her actions led him to believe she was accustomed to not having a shoulder to lean on.

The lady definitely had problems. Irritation sizzled across the back of his neck. She’d clammed up on him then hurried in to discuss something with the boss. Then again, Casey had accepted her from the beginning. J.T. still had doubts. Drunks, liars, and bad mothers firmly planted any woman in his no-fly zone.
All the more reason to keep your dick from making decisions while at work.

Her stride was deliberate when she crossed the office, sat, and pulled her chair up to her computer. She worked in silence for a few minutes, taking notes while concentrating on the screen. Abruptly, she pushed back and turned to him. Maybe now he’d learn what the hell was going on with her.

“If you’ll give me fifteen minutes, we can head to the lab.” She carried her cell and the notepad with her into the hall.

Then again, maybe not.

****

Tuesday, April 27, noon

Don dressed and headed out for a run. He hated days off, they left him idle and at loose ends. The park was a couple of blocks away, and within minutes, he’d set a steady pace around the jogging track. Tension eased with each slap of his tennis shoes. Sweat beaded on his forehead and vaporized when the southern breeze hit him in the face. The people having lunch, mothers pushing kids in strollers, and the homeless asleep on the benches faded from his vision. He had to get outside more, exercise more.