25
Caitlyn’s stomach lurched. From the look on his face, whatever Josh had just been told wasn’t good news. “What’s wrong?”
“That was Quinton.” He grabbed the car keys off the counter. “We need to leave. This place has been compromised.”
Her body froze, like a deer caught in the headlights, as she tried to process what he’d just said.
But she couldn’t fall apart. Not now. She’d do that when this was all over.
She closed the laptop and headed for the room where she’d slept. “How much time do we have?”
“I don’t know. Grab anything essential. Don’t worry about the rest. I’ll do the same. Meet you in the car.”
“I’m right behind you.”
She dropped the computer into her backpack, along with a few other personal items. When she turned to leave the room, she hit her arm against the bed frame. She winced at the pain shooting up her arm. Her jaw tensed. She’d noticed some redness at the site this morning and had planned to have Josh rebandage it for her. She was worried about an infection without antibiotics, but there wasn’t time to deal with that now.
She glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, then ran after Josh. There were still so many unanswered questions. How had they been found? And who had found them? The authorities, or someone else? Breakfast sat in her stomach like a rock, bringing with it a fresh wave of nausea. All Josh’s warnings about what could happen if they decided to run had been right on track. This had been a mistake.
She slid into the passenger seat. Exhaustion settled around her, and instead of thinking straight, all she could feel was panic. At the moment, she saw no way out.
“Where are we supposed to go?” she asked.
“Quinton texted an address in southeast Houston,” Josh said, pulling out of the drive. “We’ll meet him there, then reassess the situation together.”
“I don’t understand how this happened.” Her mind couldn’t stop scrambling for an explanation. For anything that made sense in a world that had totally collapsed around her.
“He didn’t take the time to give me any details.” He turned left at the first corner away from the ocean and headed back toward Houston. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?”
She studied the side-view mirror, searching for signs that someone was following them. Nothing seemed ominous beyond the gray rain clouds hovering above them, but they were out there. Somewhere.
“Do you think we need to turn ourselves in?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He turned onto Interstate 45 and started across the bay. “Do you think we have enough evidence from the computer files to give to the authorities? Anything that would definitively prove what was going on in that office?”
“The evidence is coming together, but there are other questions. Who is the inside person in the lab? Helen mentions Carmichael, but we don’t have any hard evidence connecting them. And it’s the same with Hayward and Stover.”
“And not only do we not have all the evidence we need, the authorities somehow have evidence against me,” he said. “How do I prove that I didn’t hide the murder weapon in my house, or that I never signed divorce papers? How am I supposed to do that?”
She stared out the window while he maneuvered through traffic. It didn’t matter what time of day, Houston traffic was always a challenge. She studied the cars that passed. Each one a potential threat out to silence them. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I still meant what I said. We’ll find a way out of this.”
“I think I’ve heard that before, but we’re still running.”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not sure for how long, but yes.”
“The three of us will come up with a solution, I promise.”
She hesitated before asking the question she hadn’t been able to shake. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but what if Quinton isn’t on our side?”
Josh dropped her hand and gripped the steering wheel. “He’s the one who set up the safe house and now he’s warned us—”
“I know, but if there’s a chance that he’s been turned, or compromised . . .”
“I know it’s hard for you to trust him, but I know him. He’s saved my life more than once. He would never betray me.”
She was treading on thin ice and she knew it. “Maybe he would if they threatened his family?”
His jaw tensed, and he flipped on his windshield wipers as rain started falling. “So you think this is a setup?”
“I’m worried it could be. I know you trust him, but I don’t want to walk into this blind.”
“I know you’re right to be concerned, but what choice do we have? We have to trust someone.”
Trust had always been an issue for her. As a child she’d wanted to trust her father, but then she’d seen what he could do. Her mother should have been an ally, but as an abused spouse, she’d never been able to fill that role. Which had left Caitlyn with no defender. In the end, she’d learned to do things on her own. That was one reason why her going to Josh in the first place had been such a difficult leap of faith.
Problem was, she was pretty sure she was going to feel vulnerable no matter where she was. Being inside the walls of a locked safe house hadn’t erased the fear. Or the threat, obviously. It was going to come down to a choice. She had chosen to trust Josh. Which meant she had to trust the people he trusted—including Quinton—and the decisions they made.
They pulled up at the address, and Josh hesitated before exiting the car. “Why don’t you stay in the car until I know it’s safe.”
“I’ll be just as safe in there with you as out here on my own.”
He caught her gaze. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
She shook her head and grabbed her backpack with the computer. Quinton was going to want to see what they had. They dashed up the sidewalk in the drizzling rain to the apartment, then knocked on number 42.
No answer.
“Are you sure we’re at the right place?”
Josh glanced at his phone. “This is the address he gave me, plus his car’s parked outside.”
Worry gnawed at her. Something wasn’t right.
“That’s strange.” Josh tried the door handle of the apartment. “It’s open.”
He walked into the room in front of her. Quinton lay in the middle of the living room carpet.
She dropped her bag onto a chair as a wave of nausea swept through her. Josh crouched down beside his partner and checked his pulse before stumbling backward. “Caitlyn . . . He’s dead. Quinton is dead. They killed him.”
But there was no time to grieve. This was a trap.
He started pulling her toward the front of the apartment. “We need to get out of here now—”
The bullet missed his head by inches, then slammed into the wall.
Josh shoved Caitlyn out of the way, then lunged at the armed man running toward them. Josh grabbed the man’s wrist and spun the gun away from him, then twisted the man’s arm, flipping him to the ground. He snatched the gun out of the man’s hands and stood over him.
But it didn’t matter.
“Drop the gun. Now.”
Caitlyn struggled to breathe as she looked across the room at another man aiming a gun at her head. Sirens whirled in the background. The police were coming.
The man Josh had taken down looked at his partner. “We can’t get caught. We need to get out of here.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” Josh said.
“Really?” The man walked closer to Caitlyn, his gun never wavering. “Because here’s the ironic thing. Even if we don’t take you down, they will. They’ll find evidence here that you murdered your partner.”
“If you hurt her, I’ll shoot him,” Josh said.
“I believe you. That’s why we’re leaving.” He took another step toward Caitlyn. “Let him go.”
Josh hesitated, then nodded, his gun still trained on the man as he got up. “This isn’t over,” he said.
The sirens grew louder as the men ran out the back door.
“Caitlyn . . . we need to get of here too.” He pulled the cash he had out of his pocket and shoved it into her hand. “It’s safer if we split up. Get out of the city and find a place to stay off the grid.”
“What? Wait . . . No.” She stopped, her heart pounding. He couldn’t be serious about them splitting up. “We’re not going to win this.”
“My partner’s dead. They don’t just want me in prison, they want me silenced. And there’s someone in the department involved in this. I have no way to know who to trust. If we turn ourselves in, this is over.”
“Josh—”
“We’ll still find a way to convince them we’re innocent, but in the meantime, we need to split up and run.”
“No.” She didn’t even try to mask the terror in her voice. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“In about forty-five seconds, they’re going to surround this place, and they’ll be looking for both of us. We’ll have a better chance if we’re not together. Trust me.”
She could hear the sirens now, growing louder in the distance. “Where am I supposed to go?”
He grabbed her backpack and handed it to her. “We talked about running. You know what to do. Head west from here, then get on a bus out of the city and lay low. Cash only.”
Caitlyn stared at him, desperate to pull herself out of what was happening. He couldn’t be serious.
“Trust me,” he said. “Go now.”
He pulled her against him, kissed her for a brief moment, then nodded toward the back door. “Keep the burn phone you have. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I promise.”
Josh waited a moment to make sure she’d followed his instructions, then threw the gun on the couch and headed for the front door as the team of officers pulled into the driveway and stepped out into the yard. Turning himself in might be a death sentence, but it should also buy her the time she needed to get away. Then maybe—just maybe—he’d be able to figure out a way to save her.
Unlike Quinton.
Guilt raged inside him, reminding him that he was the one who should be dead. Not his partner. This was all his fault, and now Quinton’s family was going to have to pay the price. And no matter what he did to try to make up for his death, it would never be enough.
“Detective Solomon . . . Put your hands in the air.”
Josh stopped in front of the cop he’d once played golf with, praying he’d given Caitlyn the time she needed to get away. “Detective Acevedo—”
“Get down on the ground. Now.”
Seconds later, he was prone on the ground, arms extended outward, legs spread, while an officer confirmed he didn’t have a weapon. A second officer handcuffed him, letting the metal dig into his skin.
“Where is she?”
“She’s not here.”
“You’re lying.”
One of the officers stepped out of the house. “Detective Acevedo, we’ve got a body inside. Lambert’s dead.”
Josh felt a boot dig into his back, pressing him hard against the ground. “You killed your own partner?”
He didn’t say anything. Just lay with his face in the grass. He was never going to get out of this. He’d played right into their hands, just like the fool they’d assumed he was. He never should have gotten Quinton involved. Never should have believed he could circumvent the authorities while trying to solve things his way. How many more lives were going to be lost because of him? Quinton was dead. And if they caught Caitlyn . . .
I’m sorry, Olivia. So, so sorry I couldn’t save you. Sorry that your killer is going to get away with murder. And Caitlyn . . . what have I done?
Somehow in all this mess, he’d found himself falling for her. But none of that mattered because, while she might be able to run for a while, he knew they’d find her eventually.
And they’d both pay the price for his foolishness.
They jerked him up, wrenching his arms in their sockets. He bit back the pain. He’d done all he could to give Caitlyn the chance to escape. The only thing he could do now was figure out how to get out of this and save them both.
Detective Acevedo avoided his gaze. “Joshua Solomon. You’re under arrest for the murder of your wife, Olivia Solomon, and your partner, Detective Quinton Lambert. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .”
The officer continued giving him his rights as he led him to the car. He’d memorized the words over a decade ago. Said them while arresting dozens of murderers.
And now they were being said to him.
A reporter stood in the rain, holding an umbrella over himself and recording the drama. He’d be on the news again tonight, this time not as a wanted man, but one charged with multiple murders.
He glanced back at the house where Quinton’s lifeless body lay. Bile burned his throat. The ME had just pulled up, ready to take his friend to the morgue. A fresh wave of guilt battered him. Had they found Caitlyn, or had she been able to evade them? She was smart, but that didn’t mean she’d be able to succeed in the impossible task he’d just handed her. He’d seen it as her only chance. He knew that if they found her, they’d use everything in their power to turn her against him. He slid into the back of the squad car and breathed in the rank smell of vomit. He knew what they would do because he’d do the exact same thing if he were in their shoes.
They’d convict her as his accomplice in murder, then hand him the death sentence. That was, if he managed to survive the first week in prison. They wanted him silenced, which meant no matter what happened next, things were not going to end well.