Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,36
could be one of us,” Gia put in.
“And we can pray that you’re right, that they’re going to keep Rafael Sabatini locked up,” Candy said. “Once he’s out...we’ll be back working for him.”
Keenan paused, looking at Stacey. “Hang on,” he said.
He dialed a number. They could all hear his hurried conversation about protection.
When he finished the call, he turned back to them. “Detective Crandall—he’s the main DC cop you talked to before—is a great guy—”
“He was respectful,” Candy said.
“Anyway, stay off the street. Detective Crandall is making sure that Rafael is hit with enough charges to keep him in lockup without any kind of bail for several days, at least. And he’s going to see to a two-man patrol on the streets out here until we get somewhere.”
They gushed around him, thanking him.
He tried to be gracious.
“You still put through calls to us right away if anything happens, if you see anything, anything at all,” Stacey told them.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
They grouped around her then.
Stacey hugged them all goodbye. Keenan made a point of getting to the door and waving.
They were back out on the street, heading for the car.
“The security camera?” she asked.
“Fred is on it.”
“Great. And that piece of napkin. Keenan, we may have something. I-T-H. Smith. That slimy bastard is involved in this somehow.”
He was quiet for a minute. During his time in the Krewe—stationed in Virginia, but in an area that housed much of the government—he’d learned not to believe in a strict adherence to a political party. The modern world had too many issues, and so when he looked at candidates, he looked at their individual stances on issues that mattered to him.
There were good men and women in the government. And there were men—and women—in government who were slimy as hell as well.
He didn’t know Colin Smith other than as the world saw him, what was seen on TV and in other media.
He couldn’t stand the man’s manner or his politics. He had a way of talking that invited hostility between people of different sexes, religions and ethnicities. He seemed to have no sense of common decency and liked to rile up issues that had been nonissues to create a frenzy.
No, he didn’t like the man.
He had to put that aside for the investigation, though. And whether he’d really figured how to do it properly or not, it was past time for them to have a good heart-to-heart with the congressman.
“We’ll have a full day tomorrow. They’ve managed to hold Sabatini, but he’s going to be arraigned. We’ll have to give our statements. We’re going to want to see the security video Fred will have pulled. And then get an interview with Smith somehow. That won’t be easy. Jackson—or even Adam—may have to step in.”
He suddenly realized that she wasn’t answering him.
He glanced her way; she had fallen asleep. Her eyes were closed. Her dark hair was waving an angelic frame around her face. Her lips were just slightly parted, and her breath came softly between them. He smiled to himself. She did give one hundred percent. And he could sleep damned easily himself right now, too. Long days on a case like this.
He was on the Beltway when she started talking. At first, she startled him; he thought that she was speaking to him.
She was not.
Her eyes remained closed. Her face twisted from side to side.
“No, no. Oh, no, no. You can’t, no, you can’t...don’t. Don’t. Don’t take advantage like that... I know what you’re going to do, no, no...”
She was becoming violently fretful, straining against her seat belt. Her hands flew and she fought her sleep-battle, and she whacked him in the face.
While he was on the Beltway.
He quickly exited the busy highway. As he navigated, he tried to wake her, saying her name, to no avail. He touched her shoulder gently, a little more firmly...
Nothing.
His place was close, just off the Beltway. He had the entire ground floor of an old building with a parking spot he could just swing into. He made it there quickly and parked, hopped out of the car and came around to the passenger’s seat, unbuckling her while he tried to awaken her.
“Stacey! Stacey! Stop, stop, you’re all right, you’re all right!” he said.
Her eyes opened. She stared at him. He wasn’t sure what she saw.
But she must have trusted him; her eyes closed, and she went dead limp in his arms.
He carried her up the walk and to the porch, glad that the entry to the