Kincaid’s Dangerous Game

“You are insane,” she said, unable to keep her voice steady. “I haven’t played a hand in more than three years. I’m out of practice. And what if the cards don’t go my way? You can’t seriously think-”

“You think I’m not serious?” His voice went shrill. “You think this isn’t serious, what I’m doing here? This oughta show you how serious I am. This is my life I’m talkin’ about. You better win, Billie. You hear me? You better win, and win big. Or else this kid isn’t ever gonna see her mommy and daddy again.”

“Miley, wait! At least tell me-”

But there was nothing but a dial tone. She let the phone slip from her fingers and never even saw where it fell. Her knees buckled. She felt Holt’s arms come around her and allowed herself to be held, and to hold on to him, for a moment. Just a moment. Then she pushed away from him, straightened and said hoarsely, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

He let her go. She turned in a lost sort of way and combed the fingers of both hands through her hair. Coughed, and threw him a fierce look. “So…I guess we really have to go to the cops, huh?”

“Yeah, we do. We’re going to be their number-one suspects the minute that cabbie puts two and two together.”

“What makes you think they’re going to believe us?” she said in a bleak voice. “And if I’m in jail, how am I going to-”

“I thought about that, too. I think I know somebody who can help us.”

“So, you still have friends in law enforcement?”

“You could say that.” He gave her a dark smile. “Go get dressed so we can get out of here before the cops show up on your doorstep. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

He waited until he heard her closet door slide back, then picked up the phone from the counter where she’d dropped it, hoping there was caller ID. There was. He hit the button for incoming calls, and at the same time he was opening and closing drawers, looking for pencil and paper. He found what he needed on the third try, scribbled down the number of the last call and tucked the paper in his shirt pocket. Then he took out his cell phone and scrolled down through his speed-dial list to the one he wanted.

A brusque voice answered on the second ring. “Portland P.D., Homicide, this is Detective Ochoa-can I help you?”

“Uh…yeah,” Holt said, “I’m looking for Wade. He anywhere around, by any chance? This is a friend of his-Holt Kincaid-I think we met last spring, during that serial killer thing…”

“Holt Kincaid…oh, yeah-the P.I., right? Sure, I remember you. Wade’s out of the office, but I’ll tell him you called.”

“He on a case?” Holt’s hopes of help were sinking fast.

The Portland detective chuckled. “Nah…I think he went home to have lunch with his wife. You know how these newlyweds are. If you have his cell or home number, you might try him there.”

“Thanks,” Holt said, and disconnected. Letting out an impatient breath, he checked his speed dial again. This time he got voice mail.

“Hey, Wade, this is Holt Kincaid. Give me a call back on my cell when you get this message. Thanks.” He hesitated, then added, “It’s important.”

He disconnected and was searching his phone book for more options when Billie came in looking flushed, tucking the tail of a black long-sleeved pullover shirt into the waistband of khaki cargo pants. She looked ready to take on the world, he thought. All she needed was a flak vest with big letters on the back that said SWAT.

“Ready?” She sounded out of breath.

“Yeah.” He tucked his cell phone in his pocket, snatched up his jacket from the chair back he’d hung it on last night-a lifetime ago. “You happen to know where the police station is?”

Naturally, his cell phone rang on the way, and just as he was maneuvering through erratic lunch-hour traffic. He fumbled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to Billie.

“Here…I don’t talk and drive. Tell him I’ll be with him as soon as I find a place to park.”

He heard her say, “Holt Kincaid’s cell phone…” and then, “Yeah, he’s right here. He just has to find a place to park. Hold on.” She held the phone face down on her thigh. “He says it’s Wade, returning your call.”

“Yeah, I know.” Muttering under his breath, Holt made a right turn down a side street and into the parking lot of an auto parts store. He pulled into an empty space and left the motor running. Billie handed him the phone.

“Hey, buddy,” he said.

Wade’s voice came back to him, sharp with suspicion. “Who was I just talking to?”

Holt said, “Uh…” and glanced over at Billie.

“You call me outta the blue, tell me to call you back, it’s important. So I do, and a woman answers the phone. You found her, didn’t you? Brooke told us you thought you might have. Tell me that wasn’t my baby sister I was just talking to.”

“Uh…” said Holt again, but this time at least he had the presence of mind not to look at Billie. “Yeah…and I’ll tell you all about that later. Right now, though, we’ve got a bit of a situation. May have. I don’t suppose you have any friends in the Las Vegas Police Department?”

“We?” Wade’s tone was instantly serious. “Is my sister in trouble with the law? Again? My God, Kincaid, is this another situation like Brooke’s?”

“No, no-nothing like that. At least…I hope not. May need you to put in a good word for us, though. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind? Hell, I’ll do better than that. I’ve got some personal time coming. How ’bout I see you there in…say, what?” There was some muffled mumbling, and then, in the kind of quiet voice he’d probably use to calm distraught witnesses: “Tee’s already looking up flights. She says it’s important, and you know I don’t argue with her about things like that.”

“Wade? If you wouldn’t mind, it might be a good idea to bring her along, too.”

Wade gave a snort of laughter. “You think she’d let me leave her behind? She’s just reminded me we haven’t really had a honeymoon yet, plus she’s never been to Vegas. We’re on our way, my friend. You just hang in there- and in the meantime, you take good care of my baby sister, you hear me?”

“I mean to,” Holt said softly, and disconnected. He looked over at Billie and found her watching him, and for once he couldn’t read her eyes. “What?” he said as he handed her the phone, more sharply than he meant.

Her gaze didn’t waver. She took a quick little breath, hesitated another second, then said slowly, “I’ve just been remembering something. You told me one of my brothers is named Wade, and that he’s a cop in Portland, Oregon. Tell me the truth, Kincaid. Was I just talking to my brother?”

“Yeah, you were.” And because he suddenly realized his own emotions were piling up behind the dam of his self-control, and he for sure didn’t want to deal with her family issues, he put the Mustang in Reverse and backed out of the parking space.

“And he knows it was me?”

“Yep.”

“And he’s coming to help us? Just…like that?”

“You’re his sister,” Holt said flatly, as the Mustang lurched out of the parking lot and back onto the street. “It’s what families do. Help each other when they need it. Get used to it.”

She didn’t reply, and he drove for a good way in silence.

It wasn’t until he was pulling into the parking lot at the police headquarters that it hit him. He gave a sharp bark of laughter, and Billie’s head jerked toward him.

“I just thought of something,” he said, grinning and slowly shaking his head. “You’re not gonna believe this. This brother of yours. He’s a police detective, right?” She nodded in puzzled agreement. “And guess what, his last name is Callahan.”

She still looked uncomprehending, so he added in exasperation, “You said it-Dirty Harry, remember?”

She covered her eyes with one hand, laughing silently.

Billie had been in police stations before. Those past experiences had not been pleasant, and so far this one wasn’t any better. She felt nervous and scared, for a lot of good reasons, but more than that, she felt angry. Betrayed. Those memories, those feelings…she thought she’d steered her life into a place where she’d never have to feel like that again. Yet, here she was. And she didn’t know who to be mad at.