Cait wanted to ask Manning if he was the anonymous reporter who took her picture outside the bank and sent it to the Columbus Dispatch, but she decided to wait for the right moment. She thought about the officers posing as maintenance workers, but, like Rook, she wasn’t ready to let Manning in on who they were until she knew more about him. Marcus instantly disliked Manning.
“How about giving me a tour?” Manning asked.
She nodded. “Wait outside while I talk to Marcus. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Take your time.”
When the door closed behind Manning, Cait turned to Rook. “The officers are here, right?”
“Yes. They came in an unmarked car.”
“Good.” She peeked in the office. “Marcus, would you let the officers in the theaters and find something for them to do? Maybe maintenance inspectors? Then I’ll bring Manning out for a tour.”
“Okay, but I don’t trust him. Fumié can wait here,” he said.
“I’ll hang around awhile,” Rook said.
Cait found Manning in the meditation garden with a gun in his hand.
“I hope you’re not planning on shooting anyone,” she said.
Manning tucked his gun under his jacket. “Just checking it.” He slipped his mirrored sunglasses on. “Don’t you check yours?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“I wondered how you felt after you shot Hank.”
She froze then retorted curtly, “I saved an officer’s life!”
“What’s your problem, Manning?” Rook asked when he crossed to the garden.
Cait held her hand up. This was her battle. “I value life, especially the lives of my fellow officers. It was Hank Dillon’s or the police officer’s—easy decision.”
Manning switched on his boyish charm, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry. That was insensitive and out of line. Let’s see the theaters.”
Cait waited. “Who told you about the theaters?”
Manning turned. “Some cop I met from your old department. He said you’d inherited a couple of Shakespearean theaters and a vineyard.”
Cait let it go, but she planned to ask Shep how much Chuck Levy, the retired cop who’d crossed paths with Manning in a bar, had disclosed about her inheritance. As far as she knew, the vineyard was all that came up in their conversation. Maybe Wally told him.
Manning pointed to a small sign at the edge of the meditation garden. “What’s this about?”
“My aunt liked to meditate every morning.” She glanced at the marble dolphin, bench, and crimson roses the size of peonies. “I try to do the same.”
“ ‘O fearful meditation! where, alack, shall Time’s best jewel from Time’s chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?’ Are you a fan of Shakespeare, Mr. Manning?” June asked as she walked into the garden.
Cait couldn’t remember the sonnet, but loved the look of surprise on Manning’s face.
“If you’re trying to embarrass me,” he said, “you’ve succeeded.”
“I meant no harm, but since you’re the one with a gun,” June said, “I’ll hold my tongue.”
“Let’s take a walk,” Cait said, as she tried not to smile.
“You must feel vulnerable outside the house,” Manning said. “You’re an easy target.”
“We’re armed, even you,” Rook said. “You might remind Wally about that when you see him. Did you go to that particular police station in Columbus because you knew that’s where Cait worked?”
“Yes.”
“Columbus is a large city,” Rook said. “Lots of precincts.”
“I must have heard about it on TV.”
“You had TV in Afghanistan? Your mother said you were out of the country at the time of the bank robbery,” Rook said. “Is that true?”
His eyes narrowed. “You talked to my mother?”
Rook shrugged.
“We live on opposite sides of town. I’d just returned after a long stint in Afghanistan and was tired.”
Rook nodded. “The work you do is admirable. But I’m curious. You’re gone so much, how did you get close to Hank? Why was it important to know the officer involved in the shooting?”
“Wouldn’t you want to know in that situation?”
They had reached the trellised gate to the theater complex. Cait rested her hand on it but didn’t open it. “Are you the anonymous journalist who sent my picture to the newspaper?” She could tell by the direction of a person’s gaze if they were constructing or remembering information but wished she’d waited to ask, because Manning was wearing mirrored glasses.
The sun reflected on the gold cross at the opened neck of his shirt, his tanned skin glistened in the warm sun. He smiled. “Busted. You got me.”
His admission surprised her. “Why anonymously?”
“I didn’t want to get involved any further than that.”
“And yet you’re here now. What changed your mind?”
“Wally.”
Jim had been silent up until now, but Manning’s attitude finally got to him. “Cut the crap! No one dragged you into that police station. No one dragged you to that bar where you just happened to meet a retired police officer who’d had enough alcohol to loosen his lips to a stranger.”
Way to go, Jim. Couldn’t have said it better myself.
“Wally contacted you?” Rook asked.
Angry creases appeared around Manning’s mouth, and he ripped his glasses off. “Why am I under the microscope? Do you want my help with Wally or not? If not, just say so because I have assignments waiting for me. I work hard at a job I love, helping to defend our country by supporting the troops in every branch of the service I come in contact with. I write about their stories, their fears, and their hopes for the future. Sometimes even their prayers.” He shifted his feet. “I’m good at what I do, but it keeps me out of the country seventy-five to eighty percent of the time.” He hesitated. “Yeah, Wally called. He loved his brother.”
“Doesn’t leave much time for your daughter,” Cait said. “And coming here cuts into it even more.”
Manning hung his glasses on his shirt pocket. “How do you know about my daughter?”
“I have an inquiring mind.” Cait smiled.
He nodded. “Touché. I have questions of my own for Wally. I don’t need to know where he’s hiding, but I’ll catch him as soon as he shows his face. And the same goes for his cousin, LeBow.”
“I thought you didn’t know LeBow?”
“I don’t need to know him to understand someone who supplies felons with guns.”
“So you know LeBow and Wally have records,” Rook said.
Manning shrugged.
“You sound confident you can find Wally and bring him to justice,” Cait said.
Manning smiled. “That’s about it.”
Prove it. Cait couldn’t put her finger on what bothered her about Manning. He was too smooth, too confident, and too good-looking to be believable. She never went for classically handsome guys. She preferred RT’s rugged good looks. She opened the gate and was surprised to see Fumié with Marcus. They were on their hands and knees with pencils and a ball of string. Fumié stood and gestured for them to come over as a single gunshot split the air.
Cait and Rook simultaneously yelled, “Get down!”
Everyone dove to the ground.
Cait twisted her body around and reached for the gun at her back. Rook crouched, gun in hand.
Two officers ran out of the Elizabethan theater with their guns drawn.
Cait glanced around and saw Niki slithering toward her on his belly. When he reached her, he covered her face with kisses. She ran her free hand over his head and whispered “Good boy, Niki.”
“Cait!” someone called.
She looked up and saw June and Jim peering over the brick wall. Jim gripped his gun while June raised her hand to indicate they were okay. Cait waited a few moments, and when there wasn’t any more firing, she got to her feet and stood beside Rook, who was up and motioning to his officers.
“Shot fired from over there,” Rook yelled, pointing to the trees and shrubs across the courtyard. “Spread out.” The officers took off running, dodging behind the tall vegetation.
“I don’t get it,” Cait said. “Why didn’t he shoot me when he had the chance?”
“He’s playing with you.” Rook glanced around. “Let’s ask Manning.”
Cait turned but didn’t see him. “Manning?”
“Over here.” Manning stepped through the gate, his gun in one hand, cell phone in the other.
Cait thought it strange that he’d gone back through the gate. “Were you talking to Wally?”
“Yes, he called with a message for you.”
Surprised, she said, “What?”
“To remind you how vulnerable you are and that he can shoot you any time.”
“Hell, I know that,” she said.
“I never said it would be easy.”
“You haven’t said much of anything.” She watched Rook with his phone to his ear.
“I think Wally wants to give up,” Manning said.
“Could have fooled me.”
“Let’s look in the theater,” Rook said.
Marcus and Fumié waited behind the bushes. She waved, indicating they were okay.
“That gunshot hit the trellis,” June said. “Ripped right through the roses.” She looked at Manning. “I saw you run the other way through the gate. Maybe you were Wally’s target instead of Cait.”
“You’re mistaken,” Manning said, “He wouldn’t shoot me. He knows better—” His lips snapped shut.
“Better than what?” Cait asked.
“He knows better than to cross me. I’ve helped him financially since his brother was killed.”
Sounds like a reasonable explanation unless the money went to buy guns to kill me.
Fumié and Marcus ran over to Cait. “I saw him,” Fumié said, “but Marcus grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let me follow him.”
“Did he look like the mug shot of Wally?” Cait asked.
“I couldn’t tell.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Oh, gosh, Cait. I only got a quick look before he saw me, then I ducked back.”
Cait caught her breath. “He saw you watching him?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Don’t ever try to follow someone like that,” Rook said. “You could get in serious trouble.” He turned to Cait. “I want to make sure he didn’t circle back and go inside the theater.”
Cait walked with Manning. “I thought you didn’t know how to get in touch with Wally. How do you get money to him?”
“I leave it with his mother.” He smiled at Cait. “How are your cop instincts?”
“Wait and see.”
“Why? Don’t trust me?”
“I’ve just met you, Mr. Manning.”
If I find you’re here under false pretenses, I’ll take you down and make sure you never see your daughter for a long time.