In a Smoky Mountains parking lot high above Gatlinburg, Tennessee, Raine Quintero watched for her prey through the windshield. Clutched in her hands was the unregistered nine-millimeter pistol she’d bought in the back room of a sleazy bar a week earlier.
As plans went, hers wasn’t exactly inspired. The chance of success was probably fifty-fifty, at best. But everything else she’d tried had failed. She was out of options, desperate and almost out of time. Desperation, like grief, had stages. Reaching this final stage had taken fifteen agonizing years. Now she was prepared to do anything, cross any line, pay any price to save her brother’s life.
Even if it meant threatening someone else’s.
An inconvenient twinge of decency and shame had the pistol shaking in her hands. Like a thousand jagged knives, her conscience slashed through her carefully constructed excuses for what she was about to do. She rocked back and forth in her seat, a roller coaster of emotions twisting inside her. When a hot tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto her hand, she swore and shoved the pistol inside the glove box.
Apparently, Callum Wright would get one last chance. He could act, or refuse to act. His fate would be decided by his choice.
Unlike her brother, who’d never been given a choice.
Clenching her now empty hands together, she drew deep, even breaths until the shaking subsided. The guilt was still there. But she’d managed to force it back into its little box to be dealt with later. This didn’t change her overall plan. She hadn’t come here on a whim. Everything had led to this one crucial moment. Sometimes the end really did justify the means.
Or so she kept telling herself.
Blowing out another deep breath, she checked the time on the fitness tracker on her wrist. If this morning was like the last few, the man who held her brother’s fate in his hands would be here in just a few more minutes.
Sure enough, at precisely seven thirty, Callum’s black Lexus all-wheel-drive SUV turned into the parking lot of the company where he worked, Unfinished Business. It always took her aback when she saw him driving that type of vehicle. Although nice, it didn’t cost anywhere near what he could afford.
From what she’d gleaned about UB, the company paid its investigators extremely well. It’s how the billionaire owner had attracted top detectives around the country to give up their government jobs and switch to the private sector. It helped explain why Callum had traded life near his family in Athens, Georgia, to live in the Smoky Mountains of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Although, surprisingly, none of her internet searches had ever revealed his exact address, either when he’d lived in Georgia or after he’d moved here.
His Lexus certainly didn’t compare to her red Porsche Panamera sports car back home. Of course, that wasn’t what she was driving today. Her mission required something easily forgettable that blended in. She’d bought a rusty, midnight blue, decade-old Ford Taurus the same day she’d bought the gun. Cash, of course. Nine thousand dollars—purposely below the government’s ten-thousand-dollar threshold that would have triggered a report to the IRS or even a money-laundering investigation. She didn’t want to raise any red flags.
The parking lot was almost full, so Callum backed into a space at the far right corner shaded by thick trees and overgrown shrubs. Some of those trees concealed a steep drop-off down the side of Prescott Mountain, named after the owner of Unfinished Business. She knew about that drop-off because she’d hiked through those woods several times, learning the geography, planning her emergency escape route if it came to that. She didn’t anticipate needing it. Her hope was that Callum would be decent and reasonable.
Unlike Isaac Farley, a police detective with whom he’d once worked.
Raine’s Taurus was parked on the opposite end of the parking lot, close to the building but concealed from prying eyes by the dazzling golden leaves of a hickory tree fully dressed for autumn. It also gave her a good vantage point to watch Callum long before he’d notice her.
She’d spent many hours over the past week in this parking lot, or in the surrounding forest doing reconnaissance. So far, she’d never seen anyone pull in later than eight. That wasn’t typical of the firm where she worked. Although she and the other lawyers always arrived before sunrise and left around dinnertime, the administrative staff tended to mosey in closer to nine and weren’t fans of working late. It would be nice to know how the bosses here motivated their staff so she could motivate her own the same way.
Not that she planned on going back.
What she was doing today would change everything. Best case, it would get her disbarred and end her career. Worst case, she’d go to prison. But she wasn’t even tempted not to follow through. This was far more important than a future partnership in a law firm. Her goal was worth any sacrifice. There would be no regrets.
Callum finally got out of his vehicle. He must have been delayed by a call since he was on the phone when he shut the car door. His long strides quickly carried him toward the building as he slid his cell phone into his suit jacket pocket.
She couldn’t help admiring his taste in clothes. The navy blue suit and matching tie with a crisp white shirt accentuated his impressively broad shoulders and trim waist. But, as with his car, his suit was a nice quality but didn’t seem overly expensive. There wasn’t the flash of a gold Rolex on his wrist or pricey rings either. The most expensive things he was wearing were probably his pristine black cowboy boots.
To the untrained eye, they weren’t anything special. But she could spot high-quality handmade leather a mile away. Her mom had always told her she could judge a man by the quality and cleanliness of his shoes. Raine preferred to judge a man by how he treated others.
And today was judgment day.
He was almost to her car when she got out, tugging her gray sweater into place against the chilly mountain air. As she rounded the hood, he smiled and nodded in greeting but continued past her.
“Mr. Wright?”
He stopped and walked back, a dark brow arched in question. “Good morning. My apologies, but I don’t recall your name.” He held out his hand.
She shook it, encouraged that he was talking to her. “We haven’t met before. I’m Raine Quintero.” She waited for a sign of recognition. Sadly, her last name didn’t even trigger a flicker of reaction.
“How can I help you, Ms. Quintero?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you about investigating a case for me. But your office manager is a bit of a bulldog about putting me through on the phone. I’m guessing since you haven’t returned any of my calls that she hasn’t given you my messages.”
He grimaced. “Sorry about that. We recently hired more administrative staff out of necessity. Our company’s success has resulted in a flood of calls and visits off the street that were interfering with our ability to focus on our investigations. I’m guessing she told you we partner with law enforcement to try to solve the cold cases that they don’t have the resources to work.”
“She did. And I understand your company’s charter. I’ve read the disclaimers on their website. But this is different, critically important. My brother was sent to prison thirteen years ago for a crime he didn’t commit. It’s urgent that I—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “Ms. Quintero, my sympathies about your brother, truly. But we can’t help you. Our contracts are with the various law enforcement agencies of east Tennessee, including TBI—the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. We don’t hire out to private individuals.”
“Your company just finished a case for a civilian, a nurse, Skylar Montgomery. I saw a story about it on the news. If you made an exception for her, you can make one for me. I want to hire you. Money isn’t an issue. I can afford whatever fees you charge.”
He shook his head. “It’s not about money. Ms. Montgomery’s situation was unique, a one-off. I’m not sure why you’re singling me out, specifically. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“I would hope my brother being on death row would change everything. I really need your help.”
His jaw tightened. “If he’s on death row, you need an attorney who specializes in capital punishment cases. Again, I’m sorry.” He started past her again.
“Joey Quintero. Ring a bell?”
He stopped and turned around, his expression beginning to mirror impatience. “No, but I’m guessing you think it should.”
She hurried to him, craning her neck back to meet his dark blue gaze. “You worked on his case when you were a police detective in Athens, Georgia. That’s why I singled you out.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “Thirteen years ago?”
“Fifteen when the case began. He was accused of strangling a young woman in her home, when her parents were out of town. Capital murder, death row, Quintero. You honestly don’t remember?”
He stared off into space as if accessing off-site storage in his mental memory banks. The flash of recognition she’d been hoping to see finally happened. But the frown that accompanied it told her she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“My recollection is spotty on that case. As you said, it was a long time ago. And I wouldn’t have been a lead detective back then.”
“Farley was.”
He slowly nodded. “Farley. Haven’t heard that name in a while.”
His flat tone suggested that he and Farley hadn’t exactly been friends. That was encouraging.
“He passed away a few years ago,” she told him. “Massive heart attack. But I did get to speak to him before that. Or, I tried. Several times. He told me to go to hell.”
“Sounds like Farley.”
“And now you’re telling me to do the same.”
“No. I’ve been politely explaining why I can’t hire out to investigate for you. For one thing, the company I work for only handles cases for the eastern Tennessee region, not Georgia. That’s part of our contract with the various counties we support. But even if I wanted to work independently, outside of my company, I don’t have any unique insight into what happened that could help with an appeal. I was a brand-new detective, more of a gopher than a true investigator. Farley didn’t involve me in the guts of any of the cases he was working. He had me do research on case law, minor witness interviews, follow up on calls to our crime tip line. Your brother confessed, didn’t he? Seems like I remember that much.”
“It was coerced, a false confession.”
“That’s hard to believe, considering that our interrogations were supposed to be recorded to protect against that sort of thing. Did his attorney review the recording and argue that his confession should be thrown out?”
“His defense attorney was an idiot.”
“I’ll take that as a no. Look, I’m sorry that you and your family are suffering—”
“What family, Mr. Wright? My parents died in a car wreck four years ago. My brother’s all I have and he’s going to be executed in a matter of weeks unless I can find someone who can provide some kind of evidence, some kind of doubt, that could be used for a grant of clemency. I’m truly out of options or I wouldn’t be here talking to one of the people responsible for sending an innocent man to prison in the first place.”
He sighed deeply. “Ms. Quintero, if you knew me at all, you’d know that I’m a man who values honesty, integrity and justice over winning percentages. I live by the judicial system’s golden rule, that everyone’s innocent unless proven guilty. From what I’m starting to remember of the Quintero case, it was solid. Didn’t the jury deliberate for just a few hours before returning with a guilty verdict?”
“Only because his attorney was incompetent. He put up a pathetic defense. My brother didn’t hurt anyone.”
His gaze hardened. “Tell that to the victim’s family.”
She grabbed his arm when he would have turned to leave. “Please, all I’m asking is for a meeting with you. An hour of your time to review—”
He gently but firmly pushed her hand away. “I don’t get guilty people out of prison. That’s what lawyers are for.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at his insult to her profession. But before she could gather her composure to try again, he was rapidly striding away. His shiny boots flashed in the morning sun as he jogged up the front steps of UB headquarters and disappeared inside the glass-and-steel building.
Raine swore beneath her breath and hopped in her car. She glanced longingly at the glove box, then started the engine. Callum Wright had made his choice. He’d judged her brother guilty. But it was Callum who was guilty—of not caring that he’d helped send an innocent man to death row. If she didn’t do everything she could to correct that travesty, she’d be just as responsible for her brother’s plight as Callum and Farley.
Her inconvenient conscience wasn’t bothering her now. If anything, she was more determined than ever to follow through with her plan. Callum hadn’t stopped her. He’d only delayed her.
Raine forced herself to slowly drive out of the parking lot even though she wanted to stomp the accelerator. As soon as she was out of sight of the building and reached the first cut-out area designed for sightseers or someone with car trouble, she pulled over.
All around her the infamous mist that gave the Smokies their name rose in white puffs like ancient smoke signals. But it did little to obscure the brilliant reds and golds that dressed the mountains in their spectacular autumn glory. At any other time, she’d have been awestruck by such beauty. But she wasn’t here to enjoy the view. Grabbing her black backpack from the rear seat, she stowed her gun inside then got out.
A few moments later she’d made her way through the woods to the edge of the parking lot of Unfinished Business. When she reached the trees directly behind Callum’s SUV, she located a bush that provided good cover along with a decent view through some gaps in the branches. In addition to his Lexus, she could see straight down the aisle to the front doors of UB headquarters. She pulled out her gun and used her backpack as a rather uncomfortable chair. But it beat sitting directly on the cold ground.
After assuming she’d be waiting most of the day for Callum to leave the building again, she was pleasantly surprised to see him heading toward her just a few hours later. A navy blue backpack was slung over one shoulder, the modern equivalent of the briefcases that executives carried decades earlier.
Was he on his way to meet someone? Or planning to take home some files to review in private instead of in the office? She hoped it was the latter. That would give her more time to do what she had to do before anyone realized he was missing.
Hefting the pistol in her left hand, she crept as close to the SUV’s bumper as she dared. As soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, she rushed to the open doorway, aiming her gun at him while she desperately tried not to shake too noticeably.
His blue eyes darkened with anger as he looked at the gun, then at her. “Ms. Quintero. Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing?”
“We’re about to have that meeting I requested. Very slowly, no sudden moves, take your gun out using only two fingers and pitch it onto the passenger floorboard.”
“What makes you think I have a gun?”
“Don’t play games. I’ve been watching you for a while. I’ve figured out you have a holster under that suit jacket. Toss it.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he did as she asked. “Now what?”
His hard expression and clipped tone had her hands shaking even harder. She pushed one of the buttons on his door, unlocking the rest of the doors.
“If you honk the horn, flash your lights or do anything else to attract attention, you’ll earn a bullet. And anyone you alert will get shot too. Understood?”
His jaw tightened. “Understood.”
She yanked open the door behind him and hopped inside. “Close your door.”
As he pulled it closed, she quickly fastened her seat belt then brought up her gun again. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face in spite of the chilly interior of his SUV. She pressed the bore of the pistol hard against his seat. “Feel that?”
“I assume that’s your gun pushing against my back.”
“You assume correctly. Start the engine.”
The SUV roared to life. As he reached for his seat belt, she shoved the pistol harder against his chair.
“No seat belt.”
His angry gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. “Why?”
“If you don’t have your seat belt on, you’ll think twice about pulling some stunt, like purposely wrecking to try to get away. Pull out of the parking lot, slowly. Don’t draw any attention.”
He hesitated.
She swallowed hard, wincing as she moved the gun to the back of his head.
He swore and slowly pulled out of the parking space.