Cold spite, p.4
Cold Spite, page 4
part #1 of Cold Justice® - Most Wanted Series
Demarco had made his choice. She hadn’t been worth it five years ago. She doubted he even remembered her nowadays—too busy making a mark for himself, making a name, clawing away at the need to prove himself a hero rather than a villain.
The love she’d once felt for him had morphed into contempt. She might not be the smartest person in the room, but Delilah had always been a straight A student. Because she was really, really good at learning her lessons and never made the same mistake twice.
Joseph Scanlon stared through the Steiner Military-Marine 10X50mm Tactical Binoculars and watched the whore leave work and get into her car. A surge of something that felt a lot like joy unfurled inside him.
She was right on time.
Right on schedule.
For years, he’d been planning this operation down to the last second.
She might not know what hit her, but he would. It was a pity there wouldn’t be more time to catch up, but he was on a tight schedule and had no intention of going back to prison.
He slid backward through the dry brush as slowly and carefully as withdrawing from an enemy position. Once he was out of visual range, he checked his surroundings before stepping out onto a path.
He slipped the notepad into his back pocket and began hiking back to his vehicle, careful to keep up his cover as a birder, just in case someone was watching as the day turned to dusk.
He was going to make them all pay, one at a time, and then he was going to live out his life with no one ever being able to prove he’d done anything illegal.
Not this time.
Special Agent Delilah Quinn was first. She was going to get what was coming to her. He just wished he could hurt her enough to make up for the years he’d lost. But he couldn’t. No one could. But he’d get the bitch. And then he could move on to the next target and finish this thing. No one got the better of him. No one. Especially not a lying bitch or a greasy two-faced loser.
Chapter Five
Delilah pulled up outside her condo on Palmilla Drive. It was only a thousand square feet, but it had two bedrooms, AC, and two parking stall allocations, one beside the unit and another in a lot to the east of the complex, which came in handy between her Bucar and current lodger. There was also street parking, where her personal vehicle currently resided, somehow relegated to bottom place.
The townhouse wasn’t as close to the ocean as she’d dreamed when she’d won the lottery and gotten the San Diego Field Office as her First Office Assignment, but it was an eleven-minute commute to work and a mere fifteen minutes from the Village of La Jolla with its pale gold beach, eclectic restaurants, and fancy shops. The complex had palm trees and a nice pool. The other residents were quiet and tended to mind their own business.
She’d grown up all over the country but spent most of her formative years in DC and Maryland after her father had been based at FBI HQ. So she didn’t take the good weather for granted. Her parents lived in Virginia now.
She pressed her lips tight together as she thought of them. She needed to schedule a visit. Soon.
She jogged up the steps to her front door. She went to punch in the code, but the handle turned easily under her palm and the door swung open.
She grabbed her mail from the mailbox. “Val?”
“In here.”
“You okay?” It was dim inside except for the TV screen.
“Dandy.” Her best friend, Valerie Strauss, slumped in the armchair watching a rerun of Love Island while inhaling what looked like a gallon tub of potato chips. Delilah’s black FBI ball cap was pulled over the other woman’s long hair which had been dyed brown for a recent stage role. Valerie loved commandeering her stuff, but especially that cap.
The house was a mess, but it was hard to be irritated with her friend for long. Valerie was the person who’d stayed with her, looked after her, and picked up all the broken pieces five years ago.
“How’d it go?” Delilah winced as Valerie crammed another fistful of chips into an already bulging mouth. “That good, huh?”
“Their loss.” Words were barely discernible between crumbs. Valerie had had an audition for a movie earlier that day. “But the good news is…” Valerie twisted in the recliner, covered her mouth with her hand and grinned, eyes sparkling. She chewed some more and wiped her hands and mouth on a piece of paper towel she had on her lap and then took a huge gulp of soda that she’d balanced precariously on the arm of the leather chair. “The really good news is that the flooring guy will be finished by end of day Wednesday and the painter can get in there Thursday. I can move back into my place on the weekend.”
Three months ago, Valerie’s LA apartment had been flooded by a cracked pipe in her upstairs neighbor’s bathroom. As she’d planned to stay with Delilah for eight weeks anyway, during the run of a play she’d starred in here in San Diego, it had made sense for her to crash here. And it hadn’t even been that difficult as Valerie worked evenings and weekends, while Delilah worked mostly dayshifts in the office and at home in the evenings. Not to mention, Valerie had spent the last two weeks on a cruise and had only returned this morning in time for this audition.
But despite the fact Delilah loved Valerie like a sister, she was looking forward to having her own space back.
Maybe that’s why she was so on edge. Perhaps it had nothing to do with Scanlon. Perhaps it was simply the disorder of her usually neat, everything-in-its-place home that made her feel as if she was constantly grinding her teeth. Apparently, she’d grown used to being alone, and it was hard to go back to sharing space. Even on the rare occasions she dated, she rarely brought people into her home.
Delilah smiled. “As much as I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you, that is good news.”
Valerie grinned. She was no fool. “I know. I mean I love you like crazy, but cohabiting is a lot harder now than it was when we were back in college. You’re such a slob.”
They both laughed. Delilah was a little obsessive about everything being in its place, and Valerie was messy as hell.
Valerie tossed a throw pillow straight at Delilah’s chest.
Delilah caught it one handed and tossed it onto the couch because she didn’t want to risk spilling the chips or soda over her favorite recliner.
Neat freak.
“Wanna go out to get dinner to celebrate the good news?” Delilah suggested.
“Sure. My treat. Do I need to change?”
The woman was wearing torn jeans and a white button-up shirt that managed to look both chic and elegant despite the crumbs.
“Maybe lose the cap.”
“But I like the cap. You have the right to remain silent.” Valerie waggled her index finger without looking away from the TV. “Lemme watch the end of this episode, and then I’m pretty much ready to go.”
Delilah checked her watch. “No rush. I want to get in a quick run as I missed it this morning. Wanna join me?”
Valerie groaned and shook her head.
Delilah grinned. “How about we go to that restaurant on the beach? I think it’s open on a Monday night. Should be quiet.”
“I love that place.”
Delilah went into her bedroom and put her weapons on the dresser, stripped off her suit, hanging it carefully before tossing the shirt, and underwear into a hamper in the corner. She needed to do laundry and visit the dry cleaners this week. She pulled on black leggings, running top, and her favorite lightweight gray camo moto jacket. Then she sat on the bed to lace her bright yellow/orange striped running shoes. She placed her smaller backup Glock 26 inside a sticky holster in one of the concealed pockets on the hip of her pants.
She slid creds and a slim card holder which contained a credit card, debit, her driver’s license and an emergency hundred dollars in cash into her zippered jacket pocket. Her dad had taught her the value of being prepared from an early age, and it had served her well as an agent. Out of necessity, her work cell went into the other pocket but she decided to leave her personal cell behind beside her Glock 23. She headed back into the kitchen and noted it was full dark now. She debated taking a water bottle but decided against it. She wouldn’t be gone long. Instead, she grabbed a large glass of cold water, chugged it down, and left the glass by the sink beside a dirty plate and mug.
Her fists curled but she resisted putting them in the dishwasher.
See.
She knew how to let things go.
“Back in thirty minutes.” She snagged Valerie’s pink ball cap off the hook by the door and dragged it over her head, drawing her hair through the notch in the back.
“I’ll be here.” Valerie leaned over the arm of the chair to wave goodbye. “Unemployed, old, fat, aspiring actress.”
Delilah rolled her eyes and headed out into the evening. Valerie ate like a frat boy and never put on weight. She should hate her for that alone.
But being overly dramatic was part of Valerie’s charm, especially when she didn’t take herself too seriously. Delilah was convinced her friend was going to breakout in the role of a lifetime soon. And she would be cheering her on every step of the way.
Outside, the air was fresh with just the hint of incoming rain. Normally she’d head due south to Rose Canyon Open Space Park, but as it was already pitch black, she decided to stick to the lit sidewalks. She cut north along a path between the buildings.
She ran for five minutes but like everything else today, couldn’t find her rhythm.
Her breath felt tight. Her gait was off.
As an FBI Special Agent, she was expected to maintain a certain level of fitness and running had always been something that came easily to her. Maybe she was getting old.
Frustrated, she stopped and stretched the way she should have before she set off. She did a series of side lunges followed by glute and piriformis stretches, and arm swings, feeling slightly ridiculous, but this was California, and runners littered the streets. After a few minutes, she began running again, finally hitting her stride.
She pounded the pavement and increased her speed, pushing herself because she only had time for a short run so she may as well make it count.
She dodged a large garbage bin that had been left out and glanced across at a dog who jumped up against the fence barking, setting off a neighborhood canine chorus which felt strangely reassuring.
The cool air felt crisp against her face and body as sweat pooled under her arms and between her breasts. She checked her watch, upping her pace again. That feeling that something wasn’t right continued to plague her, and she patted her hand to her weapon to reassure herself, but there was nothing out there except the night.
Turning the corner, she headed for home.
Chapter Six
The wail of sirens lit up the night. Nothing unusual there, but they snagged her awareness as she ran closer to home. She passed the elementary school before she realized fire trucks were pulled up in her complex. Flames visible over the roofs of the buildings.
Her heart pounded.
She pushed through the crowd, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Aghast, she stared as fire crews rolled out hoses toward her section of the condos. She turned the corner and horror rushed through her as she realized it was her unit and the one below it that was on fire. That lower unit had been empty for the last couple of weeks.
“Valerie!” she shouted and looked around, frantically searching for her friend. She couldn’t see her.
What the heck had happened?
Flames were visible through her living room windows and licked the roof tiles. She pushed to the front of the crowd and headed toward one of the firefighters.
“There’s someone inside!” she yelled.
His expression darkened. “You’re sure?”
She hesitated. “Not a hundred percent, but she was home when I left for a run thirty minutes ago.” She swung around. “Maybe she got out?”
Of course she got out. It was a short walk to the front door. Unless the floor collapsed, or she’d been overcome by fumes…
Glass shattered in a small explosion, showering her Bucar with lethal shards.
Her hand went to her mouth.
“You need to step back.” The firefighter’s blue eyes met hers, sympathetic, but also determined. “I’ll let the chief know the owner is possibly inside.”
She opened her mouth to correct the record, but he’d already moved away. She could mention she was FBI, but it wouldn’t make much difference right now. Her badge wasn’t going to put out that fire.
She clenched her jaw and squeezed her hands into tight fists. What had happened in the short time she’d been gone? An electrical fault? Someone squatting in the ground floor apartment with a lit candle or unattended stove?
Her home was gone, but she refused to think about it. Possessions, even precious ones, were nothing compared to people’s lives.
Her eyes smarted. Surely Valerie would have gotten out when the smoke alarms went off? Delilah replaced the batteries religiously every year.
Perhaps Valerie was in her car…
Delilah hurried back through the throng of onlookers. Valerie’s old, battered Sebring convertible sat in her other assigned parking space.
Delilah tried the handle, unsurprised when it opened. Valerie rarely bothered to lock anything.
It was empty.
Delilah leaned against the side for a moment, trying to calm her panic, to think.
She used her work cell to call Valerie’s phone. No reply.
Trepidation crawled up her spine and made her lips feel numb. Sweat cooled on her skin and she started to shiver. There was a blanket on the back seat, and she dragged it out and huddled beneath it.
A terrible reality hit.
What if Valerie was still inside her apartment?
She closed her eyes for another minute, fighting not to break down. The scent of smoke coated the back of her throat and made her want to gag. Finally, she put the blanket back in the car and forced herself to head to her condo again. Careful not to trip over fire hoses and equipment, she arrived on the edge of the crowd. The fire looked under control now. She caught the eye of the firefighter she’d spoken to earlier and stepped to one side to talk to him.
“Do you know anything?” Her voice was rough with smoke and emotion.
“We haven’t been able to enter yet but…” His voice trailed off filled with obvious compassion.
“What?”
“One of the guys on the ladder spotted someone on the chair inside. Looked like a female, but she wasn’t moving. Then the beam collapsed.”
Gore rose up in her throat as anguish assailed her. She covered her mouth with her right hand. Tears flooded her eyes.
“We’re going to need a statement from you.”
She nodded and her knees wobbled.
His hand gripped her arm and kept her upright. His eyes were kind. “Take your time. We’re probably going to be here for hours yet, but we need to talk to you. Any idea how this started?”
She shook her head. She could barely see through the sudden onslaught of tears. She backed away. “I need to grab some water. I’ll be back.”
She hurried to her SUV parked along the street. She felt grimy and cold. Disoriented and numb. The world had shifted ninety degrees off-kilter. Her stomach threatened to rebel. She needed to find her center before she could talk to anyone. She needed to change clothes and get her shit together.
She climbed inside. Slumped as all energy left her. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Tears ran down her face and dripped off her chin and down her neck. Snot clogged her nose and throat.
She needed to report the damage of her Bucar and tell her boss about the incident. But there was no point disturbing them until she had a few more facts.
Valerie’s mom…
Oh, God.
Should she call her?
What if the victim by some miracle wasn’t Valerie? What if the firefighter was mistaken and had just seen the cap and a sweatshirt? For the second time in her neat, orderly little life she didn’t know what to do.
Last time, she’d called Valerie.
A sob ripped out of her throat, and she covered her mouth again as if trying to shove it back inside.
She knew she had to make a statement, but she desperately needed to talk to someone first. It wasn’t like she was going to disappear.
She needed a friend. She texted David.
I’m coming over.
He didn’t reply, but he’d know something major was up for her to invite herself over like this. Hopefully, he didn’t have company.
David lived in a gorgeous five-bedroom house on a quiet cul-de-sac less than a five-minute drive from her own home. He had an outdoor barbecue, a kidney-shaped pool, and a hot tub complete with pool house. You could see the ocean from the balcony off the master bedroom—or so he’d told her. He’d bought it with money inherited from his grandmother, and she hoped he wouldn’t mind putting her up for the night until she could figure out her next move with the insurers.
She pulled onto the driveway, parking in front of the three-car garage beside his Bucar. Her legs shook as she climbed out of her SUV. Even here streaks of gray were visible against the night sky. The smell of smoke tainted the air. She checked her cell. David still hadn’t replied.
Maybe he was in the pool. Or out?
It felt presumptuous to grab her go-bag, so she left it in the trunk.
She went to the front door and rang the bell, noticed that the door wasn’t latched properly. She pushed and it swung open. Unlike Valerie, this wasn’t like the careful, competent agent she knew.
Even the thought of Valerie made tears flood her eyes.
“David?”
Her voice echoed disconcertingly off the Italian marble floors.
He could be in the pool. He could have a guest who had perhaps failed to shut the door properly. The beat of her pain-filled heart ratcheted up a notch.
Something didn’t feel right.
She drew her backup Glock from the holster. Her service weapon was in her burned-out shell of a home along with her best friend from college.
