Sean let her anger simmer for a moment, then turned solemn.
“This has nothing to do with you, ma’am. I recommend you back off.”
“Kneel,” said Doris. “Lock your fingers behind your head.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Sean,” I said. “Sean, just please don’t—”
“There are armed deputies outside,” he told Doris. “That shotgun you’re holding will make short work of me, but I hope you were telling the truth when you said you’re ready to die.”
She stepped closer, then—in a move I wouldn’t have thought a woman her age could pull off—kicked his legs out from under him.
“Now you’re on your knees,” she said.
Sean ignored her. He looked up at me.
“You sure this is what you want?” he said. “I can still help you. I want to help you. I love you, Sarah. Don’t tell me it’s over between us.”
“You know it is, Sean. It was over even before all of this.”
“I don’t believe that. You don’t believe it. I’m the only one who—”
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Doris said, inching forward, pressing the barrel against his ear.
But Sean was losing his patience.
“I’m going to count to five,” he said, “and if I don’t hear that gun hitting the ground, I’m going to forget you’re a lady.”
“Just do what he says, Doris.”
“Not a chance. I’ve gone that route with men like him. Even when you give them what they want, they find a way to ruin you.”
“One,” Sean said.
“Come take his gun,” Doris said.
“What about those sheriffs outside?”
“Two,” Sean said.
“Let ’em take me away. He’s an intruder in my home. I didn’t hear him identify himself. All I heard was threats. Your home is your castle in Texas. No way a jury convicts me.”
“Three and four,” Sean said.
Doris gave the twelve-gauge another pump. Sean smiled. I knew that smile. It meant he was about to have some fun. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to Doris. I threw myself at the man who’d come to drag me away, wrapped my arms around him, clung to him like body armor.
“I’ll go with you,” I said. “Okay, Sean? I’m going back with you.”
“You’ll regret this,” Doris said. “This moment right here. Every hour of every day.”
“It’s over, Doris,” I told her.
She turned and walked out of the room. I loosened my grip on Sean. We stood, brushed ourselves off.
“You have the right to remain silent,” he told me.
Chapter 27Detective Sean Walsh
IT WAS another shot in the dark, but I jumped in the sedan and floored it to the airport. Traffic was heavy, then light, then heavy again. I parked at the Departures curb, left the siren spinning on the dash, bolted inside, and scanned the boards. Flight 201 for Mexico City, gate 16. Scheduled to take off in just under an hour.
My badge got me through customs without any hassle. I took the escalator two steps at a time, shouldered my way past men and women of all ages. When I got to the gate, the seating area was already packed. I stood back and searched.
Families, businesspeople, what looked to be a high school marching band traveling in uniform. The women were all too old or young, tall or short, thin or fat.
I checked the adjacent gates, the nearby restaurants, bars, shops. No sign of Serena anywhere. I walked back to gate 16, dropped onto a bench with my head in my hands, and wondered if there was any way I might board the flight myself. I felt like a gambler who’d bet his home and lost. Now it was just a question of who’d come to collect the debt: Vincent or Heidi.
And then, when I looked up, there she was—exiting the ladies’ room directly across from where I was sitting. She was wearing a straw sun hat with an enormous brim and a plaid scarf that she’d pulled up over her mouth, but it was her. Same slim build, same jet-black hair. And she was carrying a small, tan duffel bag. I hunched forward, dropped my head back into my hands, waited for her to pass.
I counted to ten, then dared a look over my shoulder. She was sitting by the window, gazing out at the runway traffic, looking as though she didn’t know what to do with herself, as though she might never know what to do with herself again. I’d have felt sorry for her if it weren’t for the fact that I had my own future to protect. Mine, and Sarah’s, too.
And then it occurred to me: Now what?
Things would go much better for me if I wasn’t the one to take her downtown. Vincent wouldn’t like that one bit, and neither would Heidi. This wasn’t my case. She didn’t want me anywhere near it, and the fact that I kept pushing would only ratchet up her suspicions, make her turn over rocks I couldn’t have disturbed.
I squinted at the gate’s monitor. Forty minutes until boarding. I got up, walked as far away as I could without losing sight of that tentlike hat, and took out both phones: business and burner. Heidi and Vincent. Good and evil, at least in the eyes of the law. I balanced one phone in each palm, thinking maybe I’d just go with the heavier of the two.
The cop phone won out. I called Randy. I figured I’d throw him another career booster. He picked up on the first ring, didn’t let me get out more than a hello before he started jabbering.
“Looks like Marty’s confession is legit,” he said. “Like, 100 percent legit. We’re talking slam dunk. I—”
“That’s great, Randy—”
“Randolph.”
“Sorry. I’m glad you’re batting a thousand, but I need you to listen—this is important.”
“Okay.”
“Tell Heidi that Serena Flores, housemaid to Anthony Costello, is sitting at gate 16 in the Tampa airport, waiting to board a flight to Mexico City.”
“Right now?”
“Right now. But listen, this can’t come from me.”
“So who’s it supposed to come from?”
“Tell her you put out feelers. One
