her head. “After the cops asked me to spy on Esterman, I learned the horrible things that he’s capable of doing. Well, at least I thought I had. But this…God, this. I didn’t know anyone could come up with something so sinister. And to think I used to work for this man. Heck, I used to believe we were friends.”
Friends. Oh yeah. Jared had caught wind of some of that. When things had been at the worst in their marriage, Rachel had mentioned something about having a few long talks with her boss.
That still didn’t set well with him.
Not just for the obvious personal reasons, either. It likely meant that Esterman knew some of the details of Rachel’s and his breakup. If the man knew that, then he was also aware of how much Rachel desperately wanted a child. Esterman must have used that information when he put this plan together.
And he’d come after her with a vengeance.
“I don’t regret spying on him,” she continued several moments later. “And I don’t regret turning over the information to police. Money laundering. Murder for hire. All under the guise of a respectable accounting firm.” Rachel placed the photo in the envelope and neatly tucked it back into his jacket pocket. “But I do regret that the investigation brought things to this point.”
So did he. And even after hours of thinking of little else, he just hadn’t come up with a way to fight Esterman. But then, Esterman had had a year to come up with his plan to stop Rachel from testifying. Jared had had just hours, and precious few of those.
Jared turned onto the little-used farm road and checked his mirror again. Still no sign of any Rangers or cops, but they had almost certainly called for backup. By now, peace officers all over the area would be responding. His captain would have been alerted—and maybe even the city officials. It put a hard knot in his stomach to know that for the first time in his life he was on the other side of the law.
“How long do you think we have before they find us?” she asked.
Probably not long enough. But he kept that to himself. Best to dwell on the things they did have some control over.
“I don’t know, but we start by getting out of sight,” he explained. “Then, we find the baby so you can testify. Before I came to get you, I called the prison where Sasha Young was an inmate. The warden’s administrative assistant told me that she had a frequent visitor, a man named Aaron Merkens. I’ve already located him and arranged a meeting for tonight.”
“Tonight,” she repeated on a heavy sigh.
Jared understood that sigh all too well. Tonight was still hours away, and a lot could happen between now and then. The two bodyguards were after them. The Rangers. Maybe even his own fellow officers. Added to that, there was a storm brewing. The thick sludge-colored cloud looked ready to burst wide open, and that would certainly put a damper on his driving like a bat out of hell.
But those things were only part of their problem. He and Rachel couldn’t go far since they needed to be in San Antonio for that meeting with Aaron Merkens. As meetings went, that one was critical. Merkens might be able to tell them the location of the baby. The flip side was that he might lead them straight into a trap.
It was definitely a rock and a hard place kind of situation.
Yet, there was nothing Jared could do about it. He had to meet with the man. He had to figure out where to start looking. But first and foremost, he had to make sure that he and Rachel weren’t captured.
As much as he hated to admit it even to himself, they and they alone were the baby’s only chance for survival.
CLARENCE ESTERMAN CALMLY leaned back in the stiff prison-gray chair and stared through the thick, dingy glass at his employee. Gerald Anderson was on a roll, his words fluid. His voice strong and steady. But Clarence looked past that news-at-five veneer and saw a man who was scared spitless of being the messenger for this particular communiqué.
“I’m listening,” Clarence assured him when Gerald paused and gulped down some water.
But there was no reason for Clarence to listen too carefully. The oily beads of sweat over Gerald’s ample upper lip said it all. Someone had screwed up badly enough that it had warranted a visit from his personal assistant and security specialist.
That did not please him.
There were only two things he hated more than receiving bad news: the stench of the jail and the woman responsible for putting him there. Make that three—he could add yet another thing to his hate list. Lieutenant Jared Dillard.
“Our friend was supposed to have been observed 24/7. No exceptions.” Even though he whispered that little reminder, Clarence enunciated each word into the offensive-smelling phone that he was forced to use. He’d already bribed the guards to make sure the conversation wasn’t being monitored, but he still chose his words carefully. “Please tell me why that didn’t happen.”
Gerald made a vague who-knows motion with his hand. “He managed to, uh, shake the observer. I guess he’s better at that than we thought he’d be.”
“He’s very good at what he does,” Clarence said calmly. “Lots of citations and plaques for his I-love-me wall. But everyone knew that before we ever made him our messenger boy. So, if I take that ‘he’s very good’ information to the most obvious conclusion, then everyone, including you and the observer, should have anticipated that he’d try to stop us from keeping tabs on him.”
No more news-at-five demeanor. The transformation he saw in Gerald was something immediate and akin to a deer crashing straight into the headlights of a fully loaded semi with its pedal to the metal.
“We’ll find him” was Gerald’s comeback after he’d guzzled down more water.
“Oh, I have no doubt of that, not with what I pay you. And when you do locate him, you’ll remind him of the little package we have. That should help him get his priorities back on track. You’ll also inform him that he’s deeply pissed me off with this little evasion tactic.”
Gerald nodded, as Clarence had known he would do. “Absolutely.”
But that wasn’t enough. Not when his freedom and his life were at stake.
“Shake things up a little,” Clarence continued. He ignored the guard’s impatient request for him to hurry his visit. “I want our mutual friend to realize how important it is that we have his cooperation.”
Gerald leaned forward until his nose was practically against the glass. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying…”
Clarence leaned forward as well, but unlike Gerald, he was absolutely certain there wasn’t a trace of fear or concern in his baby blues.
“I merely want him…surprised,” Clarence explained. He wasn’t totally opposed to killing a cop, but he wasn’t giving up on getting Dillard’s help in bringing in Rachel. “Have I mentioned that someone very close to him has a fear of guns? A childhood trauma. Something about witnessing her parents’ murders. Use that.”
Gerald shook his head. “How?”
Clarence slowly brought his teeth together, and it took a moment to unclench them. It was hard to maintain composure when dealing with a certifiable moron. Too bad he needed this particular moron.
For a little while longer, anyway.
“Educate her the hard way, Gerald. Send her running from her estranged husband, and she will run right where we want her.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Clarence didn’t bother answering that. He had no doubt whatsoever that Rachel would cooperate once the truth sank in about the baby. Simply put, the child was what mattered most to her. Not her super-cop estranged husband that she hadn’t bothered to contact in over a year. Not her warped sense of devotion to be a do-gooder for the sake of society.
The baby was Rachel Dillard’s Achilles’ heel.