Injustice For All Page 2

  These . . . men . . . they wouldn’t stop. This was what they did. They’d never give up on silencing me if someone higher than these two were calling the shots and ordered this . . . hit—that’s what it was. Not just murder, but a hit.

  Oh, Daniel. My body trembled, but I couldn’t stop to think about how I felt. I had to act.

  Even protective custody couldn’t save me.

  I ran up the stairs, slipped on jeans and a tee, then raced back down.

  The sirens drew closer.

  Daniel’s safe.

  He’d been so adamant I get the contents. His dying words had made me promise. What could be so important?

  I shoved aside the framed print, exposing the metal wall safe. Tears blurred my vision as I spun the dial to the right, then left, then back to the right. My date of birth. The safe clicked as the lock disengaged. My hands shook as I opened the door.

  Two envelopes and an expandable folder sat inside.

  A siren wailed in the driveway.

  “They’re here,” the security guard yelled.

  No time.

  I grabbed the contents and jammed them into Daniel’s briefcase. I shut the safe and secured the framed photograph back into place. My mind couldn’t process anything. Not right then.

  Taking the moment I shouldn’t spare, I dropped to my knees and kissed my godfather’s temple for the last time. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. They’ll pay for this.” One day. I’d make sure. My voice hitched on the tears clogging my throat.

  I stood and lifted the briefcase. Funny how heavy it suddenly was.

  This was it—the point of no return. Fleeing now would save my life, for however long I stay buried, but Daniel’s murderers would go free.

  Could I do it? I swallowed against a dry mouth. I could hide, knew how. I’d been a consulting psychologist for the FBI for years. Had contacts and could change my identity with a single call. Knowing what they’d look for, I would do the exact opposite. The unanticipated could keep me alive.

  Would keep me alive.

  If I told the truth, no one would believe me. Not without proof. And they’d kill me before I could find the evidence I’d need.

  Car doors slammed.

  “In here. Down the hallway,” the security guard barked.

  I crossed to the office’s patio door and turned the lock. With a final glance over my shoulder, I left behind who I was. What I stood for.

  Remington Wyatt disappeared without a trace.

  Forever.

  Chapter One

  “A lie cannot live.”

  DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.

  “Going somewhere, Kingston?” Agent Rafe Baxter leveled his gun at the man he’d had in his proverbial crosshairs for what felt like forever.

  Connor halted in his tracks, his gaze affixed on the barrel of the 9mm. Gauging whether Rafe was serious, or if he could make a run for it.

  Please, give me the opportunity. Rafe had spent every waking moment for the past eighteen months building the case against master embezzler, CEO of Freedom Investing and greedy scum-of-the-earth, Connor Kingston. The paper trail had been tedious, the gathering of evidence extensive, but they’d finally gotten a grand jury indictment and appeared at his office to arrest him.

  Funny thing about that arrest, Rafe had a sneaky suspicion the snake would try to slink out the back door and disappear. It wasn’t too much of a reach to think someone would run who’d stolen over 4.6 million dollars. Too bad for Kingston that Rafe stood between the back door and the parking garage where Kingston’s Mercedes waited.

  Kingston glanced toward the entrance to the garage, then back to Rafe. He slowly raised his hands into the air. “Agent Baxter, what are you doing out here?”

  “Enjoying the weather, of course.”

  Lightning flashed high in the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  The back door to the corporate building swung open, banging against the wall. Rafe’s partner, Darren, emerged, his face red.

  Kingston spun, dropping his hands as well as lowering his head.

  Rafe grinned and jutted his chin toward Mr. Greedy. “Look who stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air.”

  Darren cuffed Kingston none too gently. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will . . .”

  Holstering his gun, Rafe approached the backup team arriving from around the front of the building. “Nice of y’all to show up. What were you waiting for, an engraved invitation?” His ready grin took the sting out of his words.

  Mumbling ensued, but Rafe ignored them all as he fell in step beside his partner. Darren put Kingston in the back of the designated car, slammed the door, then double-slapped the roof. The car pulled out of the lot and onto the street without a siren, lights, or any other fanfare. Fitting not to do anything special for Kingston.

  “And another case closed.” Darren held up his palm.

  Rafe gave the customary high five, but his gut tightened. At least they’d made the arrest now so Darren wouldn’t have to finish the case on his own. It was little consolation, but Rafe would take what he could get at this point. His decision had already been made, and there was no turning back now.

  Darren clapped Rafe’s shoulder, snatching back his attention. “You coming by the house? Savannah should still be up. You can read her a bedtime story. I’m a little sick of Green Eggs and Ham myself.”

  The fact hit Rafe hard—she’d grow up without him being there. Throat closing, he shook his head. “I can’t. I promised Riley I’d run by her apartment and move some of her boxes down to her storage basement.”

  Why his baby sister couldn’t fit all four seasons’ clothes in her closet was beyond him, but he’d given up trying to figure out women a long time ago.

  “See you tomorrow, then.” Darren headed off to his own car.

  Rafe slipped behind the wheel of his unmarked bureau vehicle. He’d miss this, all of this. Sure, it’d be the same, basically. But . . . different. He shook his head and started the car. Riley would be waiting.

  If there was one thing Rafe was positive about, his sister didn’t like to be kept waiting. Patience was so far removed from her vocabulary it wasn’t even funny.

  Moments later he whipped into the apartment complex parking lot. He drove past the first two sets of buildings, the Dumpster, then the next two sets of buildings until he came to the last building in the back of the complex. He parked in an empty space down from Riley’s little hybrid.

  Raised voices greeted him as he shut the car door. Angry voices. Riley’s voice.

  “I don’t care, Garrison. Omission is a form of lying.”

  His sister arguing with her boyfriend . . . maybe he should just get back into the car and wait it out.

  Rafe couldn’t make out Garrison’s reply. Didn’t matter. He couldn’t stand the punk. Garrison was as arrogant as the day was long, and Rafe just didn’t have tolerance for that type of person, but he bit his tongue because his sister told him over and over that who she dated was none of his business.

  “Is that a threat?”

  Every muscle in Rafe’s body tensed. How many times had he seen such a scene escalate to murder?

  He still couldn’t make out Garrison’s words, but the gruffness and tone reached him just fine. Rafe strode toward Riley’s apartment.

  “You don’t scare me.”

  As Rafe drew closer, he could clearly make out what Garrison said. Words and names that his baby sister should never even hear, much less be called. He rounded the corner, hands curled into fists.

  Garrison’s insults would make a sailor blush.

  Rafe reacted without thinking—he shoved Garrison against the outer wall of the apartment building. He pushed his forearm against Garrison’s throat and got in his face. “That’
s no way to speak to a lady, now is it?”

  “Who’s a lady?” Garrison’s voice cracked. A sheen of sweat glistened on his upper lip in the setting sun.

  This guy was either very brave or very stupid. Rafe applied more pressure with his arm. “I think you owe my sister an apology.”

  “Rafe, don’t.”

  He ignored Riley, focusing on Garrison’s now-red face. “Don’t you want to say you’re sorry for calling her such names?”

  Garrison’s eyes bugged as he scowled. “You think you’re a big man ’cuz you’re with the FBI, don’t you?”

  Rafe shoved harder against his throat. “Yeah, I do.”

  The punk slacked against the brick wall.

  He released the pressure enough so Garrison could swallow. His Adam’s apple bobbed against Rafe’s forearm. “I said, don’t you want to apologize to Riley for your language?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  Rafe took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m waiting.” The punk needed a good stomping and with the mood Rafe was in, he was just the person to administer said stomping.

  Garrison bent and coughed. Hacked. Gagged.

  “Enough!” Riley shoved around him, throwing her arm over the louse’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Garrison could only cough more.

  Riley glared at him. “Are you happy now? You’ve hurt him.”

  What? She was mad at Rafe? For defending and protecting her? “You gotta be kidding me, Ril. He called you a—”

  “He didn’t mean it. We were arguing, you brute.”

  He was the bad guy now? “He’s nothing more than—”

  “Just go. Leave.”

  “But you wanted me to—”

  “Go, Rafe. Get out of here.” She kept rubbing Garrison’s back.

  The punk snuck a glance at Rafe from beneath that messy mop of hair. And smirked.

  Rafe clenched his fists and took a step toward him.

  “I said, leave.” Her eyes met his. “Please. Just go. I’m fine.”

  Rafe shook his head, then turned and headed to his car. Nope, he’d never understand women, especially not his sister.

  Day 2

  How was I going to do this?

  Tears burned my eyes, but I shoved them aside. Now wasn’t the time for emotional release. I had to focus. Had to concentrate.

  The motel room stank like urine. I’d sprayed it with the perfume I found in the outer pocket of my purse, but the stench remained. I had no intention of spending the night in this dive again. I just needed to clear my head and sleep last night. Now I was ready.

  First, I had to make Remington Wyatt disappear. I had almost thirty thousand dollars on me that I’d stockpiled for a rainy day. Well, the storm clouds were hovering over my head now as I sat in the motel room. The curtains were drawn, the air turned off so I could listen.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, taking sick pleasure as I cut up my credit cards, American Express the only one with a balance. Only a couple of hundred dollars, but still a balance. I couldn’t chance making a payment. Even if the authorities didn’t consciously consider me a suspect yet, they would be watching my bank accounts.

  Good thing I had my cash. More than enough for me to get out of town . . . out of state . . . start over. But where? My backup plan was to get far away, go north where I knew no one.

  I stared at Daniel’s briefcase. What had been so important he’d use his last breath to tell me to get? Time to find out.

  With trembling hands, I opened the briefcase and lifted out two big, manila envelopes. They weren’t sealed shut, only the clasp held them closed. I opened one and peered inside.

  Cash. A lot of cash.

  I dumped the contents on the bed. All hundred dollar bills, nonsequential. I turned several over. Unmarked.

  The second envelope contained the same thing. Money, money, money. I couldn’t help it, I had to count it.

  Two hours and a horrendous backache later, I knew each envelope had contained approximately twenty-five thousand dollars. Un-oh-my-stars-believable.

  Daniel was just a wealth of surprises, which made me more curious about what was in the expandable folder. I pulled it to me and peeled back the cover. Papers, newspaper clippings, pictures, and more were shoved into the folder. What had Daniel been keeping?

  A siren wailed just outside the motel room. My heart and gut swapped places as I rushed to the window and peeked past the gaudy orange curtains. A whiff of a disgusting odor snagged my sense of smell and nearly made me vomit.

  The police car, lights flashing, faced the opposite side of the building. Still, it was too close. I couldn’t stay here.

  I shoved the money back into the envelopes, then crammed them into my bag. The expandable folder went back into Daniel’s briefcase. I paused at the door, barely cracking it open.

  The cruiser was in the same place, only one silhouette was visible from the dashboard lights. It was dark out. I had to chance it.

  I crept to the parking lot, keeping my head down as much as I could. Tossing my duffel into the backseat of the clunker I’d bought off the guy just outside of North Little Rock, I steered toward the downtown area.

  I’d find a place to hunker down and regroup. A place where I could think . . . make a game plan. No, a survival plan.

  Chapter Two

  “Wisdom consists of the anticipation of consequences.”

  NORMAN COUSINS

  Tension, thick as sorghum molasses, seeped into the Memphis field office but wasn’t anywhere near sweet. Just heavy. And suffocating.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Special Agent in Charge Nick Hagar leaned back in his chair and peered over the desk. His dark eyes were holes in his frowning face. “We haven’t signed the final paperwork. It’s not a done deal yet.”

  Rafe Baxter swallowed. Again. He stared out the window behind his boss. Gloom hung in the air. Depression cut the gentle breeze. Tennessee experienced an uncommonly early autumn.

  No, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do this. Matter of fact, he didn’t want to do this. But needing and wanting were two entirely different things. Images of Savannah’s smiling face flitted across his mind. He slumped in his chair, his shoulders aching under the burdens only he understood, and met his boss’s stare. “I have to.”

  “You don’t.” Nick planted his elbows into the imitation leather armrests. They creaked in response.

  Rafe snorted. They’d already had this argument a week ago. And the week before that. He’d won them then and would win them now.

  Because he didn’t have a choice.

  “I can always refuse your request for the transfer.”

  “But you won’t.” Although Rafe’s life would be easier. The decision taken out of his hands, beyond his control . . .

  Nick shoved forward, tenting his hands over his desk. “I understand why you feel compelled to take this drastic step, and I admire you for it, but I really wish you’d reconsider. You’re one of my best agents.” He slapped his palms against the desk. “Probably one of the most insightful I’ve seen. Ever.”

  “And Darren isn’t?”

  Nick sighed. “It’s not that he isn’t good—he is. But you have the killer instinct. The drive. The determination. The desire to claw your way up.”

  “It only seems that way because Darren can’t put in longer hours. He’s a good man. A good agent.” And the best friend and partner Rafe could ever hope to have. Darren could follow a disconnected paper trail like nobody else.

  “Stay here, Rafe. Maybe it’ll be good for Darren to go to a new office. Give him a chance to see what he can do out from under your shadow.”

  “But Savannah’s doctors are here. You know that. He can’t leave.” And as much as it hurt to admit it, Rafe could.
“I don’t have a choice.”

  “You aren’t his keeper.” Nick’s expression and voice had softened, carrying not a hint of accusation, but a volume of experience. It was hard to believe the man was only a couple of years older than Rafe.

  No, he wasn’t Darren’s keeper. But he was a man of his word. A man with a traitorous, sinful heart, but one of his word.

  “I promised him. Promised Savannah.” Rafe’s voice cracked. He swallowed. Hard. “I stood before God the day she was dedicated and vowed I would protect her to the best of my ability.”

  “But . . . Arkansas? Seriously, Rafe, that’s the armpit of the United States. The Razorbacks? You’re a die-hard Volunteer. The BCS is just around the corner.”

  The Bowl Championship Series . . . yeah, Rafe loved it. He responded with a weak smile and casual shrug. It was only football, right? At least he’d still be in the Southeast Conference.

  “What if I really did refuse the transfer? We need you here.” Nick cleared his throat. “I need you here.”

  Nick wouldn’t . . . Rafe narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “If you refuse, I’ll have to quit.”

  “No way you’d throw away your career just like that. You have serious ambitions with the bureau.” Nick sank back in his chair, his face twisted into a scowl. “Come on. I know you’re loyal and all, but that’s pushing it.”

  “I’m serious. The bureau says cutbacks are mandatory and this office is one agent too heavy.” There wasn’t any other option. “Little Rock’s office is an agent short.”

  “You realize you’re probably tossing out any chance at promotion by transferring, right?”

  Rafe smiled even though the muscles in his stomach curled into a tight ball. “If I’m really as good as you say I am, then I should have no problem impressing the Arkansas SAC and moving to the front of the line for promotion.”

  If only he could believe that. It’d taken him almost a decade to get himself in position where he was . . . building trust in the office, gaining commendations on cases he’d worked . . . all in hopes of catching the attention of the higher-ups.