Max smiled, clearly pleased with the outcome of our meeting. He wouldn’t be quite so happy if he knew I’d accepted the lodging more for his protection than my own. My hand closed around the doorknob.
“One more thing, Dale.”
Not one of those “one more thing” guys. I made an effort to keep my frustration out of my voice. “What?”
“Don’t die or get yourself killed in my county.”
His words almost made me laugh. I opened the door before glancing over my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that, Gabriel. I’ve been dead a long time.”
4
Gabriel replaced the handset and sat staring at the closed door. His gut instincts told him she was telling the truth—the same gut instincts that had saved his life more than once. There was something intriguing about Dakota Dale. He had a strange desire to see her smile and see the passion he knew was there light up her eyes. Whatever she’d endured with Salyer had deadened her, leaving behind only a shell of what she’d once been. She knew Salyer was alive. She climbed out of hell to find him. Why?
A soft knock came at the door before Calvin Young stuck his head inside. “I got the rest of those files you asked for.” He nodded toward the front. “Who was that?”
Gabriel wondered how long he’d stood outside, waiting for them to leave. Calvin was the closest thing he had to a partner in crime. He owed him a lot. “Dakota Dale.”
Calvin held up the thick folders. “The Dakota Dale?”
“Yep.” Gabriel took the files. “Need another favor, no questions asked.”
Calvin laughed and closed the door behind him. “Sounds ominous.”
“It is. I need you to leak the information to the media that Dakota Dale is in town. Make sure you add that she’ll be working the Angelina Clark case with me.” Gabriel grinned. “Start with Rowena Sparks. With her mouth, word will spread fast.”
Calvin slumped into the seat Dakota had vacated. “You’re shitting me, right? Did you not even look at those files I gave you? Have you cleared this with the chief?”
“No, I’m not shitting you. Yes, I looked at the files. No, I haven’t cleared it with the chief. You know how he hates dealing with the media. Once you leak the information to the press, he’ll scream at me for a few minutes, and we can all get on with our jobs.”
“Damn it, Gabriel. What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you missed the part where I said without questions. You gonna do it or not?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Calvin sighed. “But I’m doing it anonymously. I don’t want my butt caught in the same bear trap you’re asking for. If the chief finds out, I’ll never get out of records and on the street.”
“Handle it however you want to. Just make sure they all know.” Gabriel picked up a folder, leaned back in his chair, and placed his feet on the desk. “Make me a copy of everything we’ve got on the Clarks and Angelina, and don’t let them give you any flack downstairs. After this case is over, I’ll put in a word for you with the chief.” He smiled. “Now close the door behind you.”
Quiet surrounded him as he mentally shut out the ringing phones and voices drifting through the paper-thin walls. He flipped through the news articles. Though he’d read most of them before, it was with a different eye. He’d believed it then. Now that he’d met her, it sickened him. He patted his pockets, fidgeting for a cigarette. Damn whomever decided we couldn’t smoke in buildings anymore.
The articles were all the same—written to portray Dakota Dale as a jilted lover who’d used the deaths of nine young women to exact her revenge on Salyer. Only Max’s testimony, once he’d recovered enough to testify, had saved her from prosecution. Even after that, some of them had questioned her suicide attempt as guilt for killing an innocent man.
“You’re a piece of shit, Browne.” Gabriel tossed the news file. Dakota had been one of them, a fellow officer who’d been kidnapped, tortured, and almost murdered. The bastards had turned their backs on her. “And now I’m gonna use her as bait to catch this son of a bitch.”
Cursing himself, he picked up the file labeled Physical Injuries. The disgust he felt for both himself and his fellow officers turned to a deep, slowly burning pain in his gut. He’d always considered himself a tough guy. He’d spent ten years with the New York Police Department and had seen more mutilated bodies than he could count on both hands. That was why he’d come to Savannah—that, Colleen, and Christian Salyer. The doctors said he was dying. That didn’t really bother him. He’d seen enough evil and suffered enough loss to last him a lifetime. Gabriel only had one more demon he wanted to stare in the eyes. After he put a bullet in Salyer’s brain, he could die in peace.
Halfway through the file, the slowly burning pain turned into a gasoline fire. He closed the folder. “Nobody comes out of that kind of torture sane.”
Calvin poked his head inside the door again. “Media wheels in motion, boss.” He placed a manila envelope on the desk. “That’s the information you asked to be copied. You need anything else before I call it a night?”
“See you tomorrow, Calvin.”
The door closed. Gabriel gathered the files and picked up the envelope. He still needed to delve into the psychological information, but first he needed a cigarette and enough whiskey to dull the images burned into his brain.
“Looks like Browne is doing quite well for himself on a detective’s salary.” I parked in the driveway of a one-story brick ranch. “Hard to believe he uses this as rental property.”
“Your horns are showing.” Max opened the door, wheeled himself onto the ramp, and lowered the lift. “If you want me to, I’ll run a property search as soon as we’ve unpacked and set up.”
“Do that. Also see what you can find on his background.” I exited the van and surveyed the neighborhood. It was quiet, no kids chasing balls in the street or people walking dogs or even a fluttering curtain of a nosy neighbor. “Did you bring a sweeper?”
“No.” Max retrieved his suitcase. “You’re going overboard on the paranoia. There’s no way Browne could have known we’d show up.”
I grabbed two of the heavier cases and headed up the walkway. Maybe Max was right, but a fully furnished house inside a gated community right next door to the detective in charge of the case—that was a little too convenient, in my opinion. “How did he get the files on me so fast?”
Max wheeled past me. “All it took was a phone call. Probably made it right after I left his office and before he came out to the site.” He opened the front door, swung it wide, and whistled. “But then, you might have a point. Who puts this kind of setup in a rental house?”
The entrance hall was marble and led to a cozy living room on the right. Fully furnished was an understatement. A sixty-inch television took up one wall, perfectly positioned to give the best view from the white leather sectional. Picture windows took up another wall, and the third housed a full bookshelf. The living room led to the formal dining room. I did a slow walk-through of both the dining room and the gleaming kitchen before returning to the hallway to check out the bedrooms and the baths. The place was spotless.
“So are we staying or going?” Max asked.
Instinct told me we should pack up and leave, but the gated community would mean I only had to deal with the media when I was outside, and Max would be safer there than in a motel. I grabbed the bags I’d dropped by the door. “We’ll stay until we check Browne out.”