Annette Baxter maintained eye contact another dramatic moment before walking away. He stared after her, unable to move or react to her statement, until she was swallowed up by the darkness.
Oh, he intended to watch his back all right. Having his BMW shot up was wake-up call enough. But she needn’t have warned him about trust. Trust was something he didn’t dole out so cavalierly. Right now, however, the person he trusted the least was himself.
19
Saturday, September 11, 9:00 a.m.
8th Avenue South, Birmingham
Carol’s Country Kitchen
“It’s difficult to believe the FBI has nothing.”
Wainwright wasn’t happy. Carson had been so caught up in this travesty of an investigation, he’d failed to keep his boss up to speed. Wainwright had tracked him down that morning and asked for a breakfast meeting.
The DA was restless. He wanted results.
And just maybe Carson had been avoiding him. Schaffer’s suggestion regarding the tip she had received from Wainwright was like expert witnesses—as soon as the state refuted one, the defense dragged in another. It just wouldn’t go away. Then there was the fiasco with Baxter and her claims about Lana Kimble and her prophecy about Dr. Dwight Holderfield.
The fact of the matter was, he hadn’t done one damned thing by the book so far. “Baxter is good,” he confessed. “She takes extreme precautions in everything she does. This is going to take a little more time than I anticipated.”
But her luck couldn’t hold out forever. Carson would hear from Schaffer on the sister lead today. He’d come up empty-handed thus far with his own search. He’d considered tossing the idea at Baxter lastnight, but he hadn’t wanted to tip his hand until he corroborated Ms. Cornelius’s claim.
He’d looked into Baxter’s story about Lana Kimble for no other reason than to dash the truth back in her face. Kimble’s death had been ruled a suicide. There were unresolved questions as Baxter had suggested, but that was the case with all unaccompanied deaths. Drake, Wainwright, and Carson’s father had known the woman. But that didn’t mean that one or all of them were involved in her demise. The idea was ludicrous. Baxter was doing exactly what he was: searching for something to use to her advantage. And like him, she was coming up empty-handed.
The news wasn’t what Wainwright wanted to hear. He toyed with his napkin. “We have to get this done.” He stared straight at Carson. “Everything is riding on this one.”
“I understand, sir.”
He did.
More so every hour that passed.
“Is there anything I should know?”
The DA’s question startled Carson. He barely managed to keep the surprise off his face. Baxter’s warning about Dwight Holderfield chose that moment to haunt him. He wouldn’t bring that up just yet. She hadn’t given him anything specific. Could have been an empty threat. Nor would he bring up Schaffer’s assertion. Not the time. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You’re up to this, right?” Wainwright squared his shoulders, but even that move didn’t disguise his uneasiness. “You generally get straight to the heart of a case. But this one”—he shook his head, his face sober—“seems to have you unnerved. You’re a little off your game. As unsettling as yesterday’s shooting was, I noticed in our first briefing that you seemed distracted.”
Now Carson understood: This impromptu meeting was about him, not the investigation. He looked his boss, his mentor, squarely in the eye. “You have nothing to worry about, sir. I’m on top of it.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Don’t hesitate to make use of that security detail. I can’t have our future DA being used for target practice.”
Maybe it was frustration, maybe it was plain old insecurity, but Carson went momentarily stupid. Otherwise he would not have opened his mouth and stuck his foot squarely inside. “One question. Is there anything the Bureau knows that came from our office that somehow I’m not privy to in this investigation?”
Hell, why hadn’t he just asked Wainwright straight out if he’d told Schaffer something he hadn’t told Carson? Damn, hewasoff his game.
Wainwright’s gaze narrowed. “What kind of question is that? You and I are the only ones on this case. No one else. You know everything I know.” He scrutinized Carson closely. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Explain that one, Carson, you idiot.The waitress arrived to take their order, allowing him to drag in what might be his final breath.
Wainwright waved the waitress way. They were waiting for Elizabeth. Wainwright had informed Carson when he’d arrived that Elizabeth would be attending once again as the mayor’s representative. She was late. Maybe if she’d been here, Carson wouldn’t have stepped so squarely on his dick.
“It’s Schaffer, isn’t it?” Wainwright charged.
Carson had opened that line of questioning. He couldn’t strike it from the record now. Schaffer had warned him to keep this information between them. So much for trust. “It’s not actually anything in particular. Just a hunch. A feeling I got from her.”Good job, asshole. Lie to your boss. The man who holds your whole future in his hands.
Wainwright leaned forward, his face clean of readable emotion. “Don’t let her distract you, Carson. Schaffer would like nothing better than to be the one who takes down Fleming. The feds seize the limelight whenever possible. This is our investigation.Yourinvestigation. Stay on track and do what you do best.” He reclined in his seat and reached for his coffee. “Trust me on this. Schaffer isn’t on our side.”
