Truman Read online

  Truman’s feelings had only changed when Katie lost weight, made herself over, and acted like Tess. An image enamored Truman. He didn’t even know the real Katie.

  “He doesn’t love me.” Katie whirled to face her abductor. “The joke’s on you.”

  “Keep moving,” Smith growled, his voice echoing eerily in the stairwell. “And shut up.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I’ll shoot you.”

  Nancy Furlow had a head start. Her henchman, Karl Tandy, tackled Truman in the ballroom. By the time Truman had coldcocked Tandy and scrambled to his feet, Furlow had disappeared. He’d handcuffed Tandy and read him his rights when it dawned on Truman that Katie was not beside him.

  The past two days they’d been almost inseparable. Eating together, sleeping together, plotting their next move together. Now that she was gone, he missed her. Terribly. And given the current situation, he feared for her safety.

  Where was she?

  Fretting, he glanced around the unruly crowd. Dishes knocked to the floor, dozens of people were talking at once, the speaker at the podium kept calling for attention, but everyone ignored her. There was no sign of Furlow. Nor Paul Smith.

  Bad news.

  He grabbed Tandy by the collar. “Talk.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Tandy pouted. “I’ve done nothing.”

  “You’re under arrest for fraud.”

  “You’ve got no proof,” Tandy scoffed.

  Truman gritted his teeth. The man was probably correct. Because Enid Dodd had blown their cover and sprung the trap before backup was in place. He swore lightly under his breath. Why had he allowed Katie to choose their names? She was naïve and gung-ho. She was a librarian. She would pick the names of her favorite mystery characters. It was his fault. He was the one in charge.

  Maybe if he caught Furlow and Smith trying to make a getaway with the conference goers’ money, then he still had a case. Except they had a jump on him, and he had no idea where they’d gone.

  “Where are Furlow and Smith?” Truman demanded.

  “I don’t have to talk to you.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Truman saw the crowd thin as conference attendees migrated to the hall. Where was Katie? He spotted a hotel security guard looking confused amid the chaos and motioned the man over.

  “Yes, sir?” the guard asked.

  Truman flashed his identification. “Detective West. I need you to watch this suspect for me while I go after his accomplices. Can you do that?”

  “Oh, yes, sir.” With a gleeful look in his eyes, the security guard escorted Tandy out of the room.

  Truman called his chief and let him know that Karl Tandy was in custody but that the other two suspects were still on the loose.

  “What about your civilian?” his boss asked.

  That was exactly the question Truman kept asking himself. Where was Katie?

  “She’s fine,” Truman said, praying it was so.

  “Good. We can’t afford for any civilians to get hurt.”

  No kidding. Especially when he was in love with that civilian.

  “I’ll have Fort Worth PD send a patrol car for Tandy. Keep looking for the others.”

  “Right, Chief.” Truman hung up the phone.

  Had Katie gone after Smith and Furlow herself?

  The thought struck terror inside him, but he could see her doing such a thing, stubborn woman that she was. He couldn’t blame her. Any good cop would have done the same.

  What now?

  The question hung over him. Should he check out Smith’s suite or go back to the ballroom and see if he could figure out where Katie might have gone?

  “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Detective man,” Bridget Dodd called, waving her hand above her head.

  Truman almost turned and fled in the opposite direction. The last thing he needed at this moment was a conversation with the ear-bending woman.

  “I’m busy, Mrs. Dodd. If you’ll excuse me...” He walked away from her.

  “Are you looking for your wife?”

  Truman stopped short and hustled over to the elderly lady. “Have you seen Katie? Where is she?”

  “She went off with that Smith fellow.”

  “What?” Truman’s stomach soured instantly. “Are you talking about?”

  “After everybody ran and your wife’s chair fell over, Paul Smith went over to help her up.”

  Help her up? Had the con man taken Katie hostage?

  He grasped Mrs. Dodd’s shoulders. “Tell me. Did you see which way they went?”

  “They took the exit behind the stage.”

  “Thank you!” Truman exclaimed and gave the startled woman a kiss on the cheek before sprinting back to the ballroom. He wished he were wearing jeans and work boots instead of the tuxedo and patent leather shoes, but he didn’t have time to change into something more suitable for pursuit.

  He dashed around overturned chairs and pushed past bystanders still milling around. Broken dishes littered the carpet while confused waiters cleaned up the mess.

  Heaving in a lungful of air, Truman ran around the stage to the exit door and pushed into the stairwell. A sign pointing up said Roof. His heart thudded. He would not rest until Katie was back in his arms safe and sound. If Smith had kidnapped Katie, there would be hell to pay!

  “You can’t shoot me,” Katie pointed out calmly.

  “Oh, yeah?” Smith snarled. “Why not?”

  “Then what happens to your insurance policy? I’m no good to you dead.”

  Smith looked exasperated. He jammed the nose of the gun into her stomach. “I said move!”

  Katie swallowed. Did she dare call his bluff? “Where are we going?”

  “To the roof.”

  “What for?”

  “You’re pushing your luck, girly.”

  “On the roof, we’re trapped. No way down.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Smith gave a snide chuckle. “Now move.”

  She needed to get him talking. See if he would admit to his crimes. Katie had her phone in her purse. All she had to do was reach in and flick it on the “record” button. If she could record a confession, she could make amends and redeem herself.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m too scared with that gun in my gut. What if it goes off accidentally?” Katie eased her hand inside her handbag.

  “What if it goes off on purpose?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

  “Stop saying that. I would kill you dead.”

  “You’re just a petty grifter, not a murderer.” Katie’s fumbling fingers found the phone, and she pressed what she prayed was the record button.

  “How much money did you and your accomplices make on this scam?” she asked, her voice

  sounding shaky.

  Smith grinned. “More than you two-bit cops will make in twenty years.”

  “But you cheated honest people. You took advantage of sweet, naïve women like Bridget Dodd and her daughter.”

  “Hey, there’s a fool born every minute, and I want to get rich off their birth.”

  “Furlow, too?”

  “You bet. Nancy is the brains. Who do you think set up all this conference stuff? Karl takes the pictures, and I reel in the marks.”

  “Guess you’re pretty proud of yourselves.”

  “We’ve never gotten caught,” Smith crowed. “And we’ve been working together for three years.”

  “Until now.”

  “We’re not caught now.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Hey! What are you doing? Get your hand out of that purse!”

  Katie groaned. If he looked in her purse and found her cell phone recording the conversation... Quickly, she extracted her hand and raised it over her head. “I was just looking for some gum.”

  “At a time like this? I don’t believe you.”

  “When I get nervous, I chew gum. It’s a bad habit, I kn
ow.”

  “What have you got in there?” Smith demanded, narrowing his eyes and reaching for her purse. “A gun?”

  Katie fell against the wall, creating a barrier between her purse and the con man. “What did you mean when you said that the roof isn’t a trap?” she asked, desperate to distract him. “How do you plan to escape?”

  “The purse.” He curled his finger in a come-hither gesture. “Give it to me.”

  A door below them clanged shut.

  Smith lifted a finger to his lips and narrowed his eyes in a warning.

  Katie held her breath.

  “Smith!” a male voice called out below them.

  Truman! Katie’s spirits soared. He’d come to her rescue!

  “I know you’re up there, Smith, and there’s no escape. Let the woman go.”

  The woman?

  Truman’s choice of words hurt Katie’s heart. Was that how he thought of her? The generic woman. He’d been right to warn her he put nothing ahead of his job. Even after all they’d shared, he couldn’t call her his partner, his mate, his friend. He couldn’t even call her by her name. She was simply “the woman.”

  Tears pushed against her eyelids, and Katie swallowed hard. This was not the time to get sentimental.

  “Better get going,” Smith whispered harshly. “Or I’ll plug your hubby.”

  “He’s not my husband,” she whispered back.

  “Who cares? Move, unless you want him dead.”

  Thankful that his attention was off her purse, but worried about what he might do to Truman, Katie started up the stairs once more. They’d already climbed eighteen flights, and Smith was out of breath. Katie was grateful for her daily jogs.

  Seven flights to go. Katie climbed faster.

  “Smith!” Truman’s voice rang throughout the stairwell. “The police have the place surrounded. Tandy is in custody, and he’s confessed to the con.”

  Katie glanced back and saw an uncertain expression cross Paul Smith’s face.

  “Liar,” he yelled. “Karl would never give us up.”

  “I’m afraid he did.”

  Smith swore.

  Katie heard Truman’s footsteps coming closer. “Watch out, Truman. He’s got a gun!” she called out.

  “So do I,” Truman replied grimly. “We can do this the easy way, Smith, or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

  “Don’t hand me that load of bull. You wouldn’t risk hurting your girl.”

  “Katie?” Truman sounded uncertain. “Are you all right?”

  “Don’t listen to him, Truman. Do what you have to—” Katie squealed as Smith clamped a sweaty palm over her mouth.

  “Shut up,” he hissed and waved the gun at her temple.

  “Katie!” Truman shouted.

  She struggled against Smith’s restraining arm. He held her close to his chest and dragged her up the remaining stairs.

  “Katie!” There was raw fear in Truman’s voice. “Hang on, sweetheart, I’m coming for you.”

  She whimpered.

  “Smith!” he called again.

  “What?”

  “You hurt one hair on her head, and I’ll hunt you till your dying day, you got that?”

  “Big talk,” Smith retorted.

  “Katie. Can you hear me, honey? I love you.”

  Love you.

  Love you.

  Love you.

  The words reverberated throughout the stairwell, lifting her spirits and renewing her urge to fight. Truman loved her!

  Dragging her heels to slow Smith, Katie tried to make herself limp in his arms. It didn’t work. She whacked her ankle on the cement. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  Smith pressed the gun hard against her forehead and cocked the trigger. “You wanna die?”

  No! Not now! Not this way. Not when Truman had just confessed his love for her.

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  “Then stand up straight and walk.”

  He couldn’t get away. They’d headed for the roof. Truman said the cops had the hotel surrounded. Smith would have no choice but to surrender.

  Or go out in a blaze of gunfire.

  Surely not. Smith didn’t seem suicidal.

  And where was Nancy Furlow? Truman had said Tandy was in custody. Had the red-haired woman escaped with the loot?

  Katie bit down on her bottom lip. If that were the case and his partner had left him high and dry, who knew what desperate measures Paul Smith might take?

  Smith kept a firm grip on her neck, the gun still pointed against her head, and dragged Katie through the heavy fire door.

  They spilled out onto the roof.

  Immediately a blast of warm summer air greeted them. Overhead, stars twinkled against the black night sky. A car backfired on the street below. A horn honked. A siren wailed.

  The siren exacerbated Smith’s agitation. He looked left, then right. His hold on Katie loosened slightly. She squirmed against him, then turned her head and saw it.

  A helicopter resting on a helipad.

  No wonder Smith had headed straight for the roof. His escape vehicle parked there.

  “Come on.” He shoved her forward, swiveling his head from the door to the helicopter and back again.

  Katie stumbled, her pulse pounding in her ears. She couldn’t get into the helicopter with him! No telling what he might do to her once he’d gotten safely out of Fort Worth.

  The door creaked open behind them. Katie peeked over her shoulder.

  Truman!

  Smith, trigger-happy, shot twice. Each slug struck squarely in the middle of the thick metal door.

  She heard a groan of pain. Smith had hit Truman! Clamping her palms over her ears, Katie screamed. Fear, greater than anything she’d ever experienced, encompassed her like a dank fog and took her down to a very dark place.

  15

  “Truman! Truman!” Katie pivoted on her heels and raced for the door, completely ignoring Smith.

  “Get back here!” Smith howled, jumping up and down with rage. “Now!”

  Katie’s eyes trained on the door as she ran. She saw no movement, heard no noise.

  Please, God, let him be okay, she prayed.

  Just as she reached the door, a figure sprang from the shadows, knocking Katie to the ground.

  Her breath left her lungs as her knees skid on the cement. Pain bit into her shins. Her purse went flying, the contents spilling willy-nilly.

  Her cell phone.

  Katie looked up to see Nancy Furlow, dressed all in black, grinning down at her, a small-caliber revolver clutched in her hand.

  “Don’t move,” Furlow commanded.

  Katie lay plastered to the ground, her mind on one thing. Truman. Had Smith shot him? Was he...? Could he be...? No. She refused to believe that he might be dead.

  Not strong, brave Truman. The man who’d become a cop in the wake of his father’s death. The man who placed his career above everything else. The man she loved with every cell of her body.

  “I’m afraid you lost this one, Detective,” Nancy Furlow said, coolly leaning over to pick up Katie’s cell phone. The woman believed that Katie was a cop. She looked at the phone, then deleted the recording. “Was my partner getting chatty with you?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “What can I say? He’s pretty dumb. Sort of like your partner. How does the saying go? Men—can’t live with them, can’t kill ‘em?”

  Paul Smith, breathless and sweaty, ran over. “Nancy, where were you?”

  “Taking care of business.”

  “They pinched Karl.”

  “I know.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing. It’s his bad luck.”

  “You got the money?” Smith asked, perspiration dotting his upper lip.

  “Right here.” Furlow held up a duffel bag.

  “Let’s go. More cops are on the way.” Smith inclined his head toward the helicopter.

  “Not until we’ve dealt with this little problem.” Furlow narrow
ed her eyes at Katie.

  “What do you mean?” Smith paled. “You can’t kill a cop.”

  “Oh no? Why not?”

  “Hey, I’m not going down on a capital murder charge,” Smith said. “There’s no reason to kill her. We’ve got our money; we’ve got a way out. Let’s go.”

  “You’re the one who killed her partner,” Furlow replied. “You started it. We can’t leave a live witness behind.”

  “What do you mean?” Smith sweated. “I didn’t kill him; I just shot the door.”

  “Go see for yourself,” Furlow dared.

  Killed? Truman was dead? Katie moaned as despair rolled over her. If Truman were dead, then nothing else mattered. She fought the sob rising in her throat. Don’t panic. Don’t freak out. Remain calm. He might not be dead, only wounded. One thing was for certain—she needed a clear head to turn this situation in her favor.

  “I couldn’t have killed him,” Smith reiterated. “Fire doors are steel. I only meant to hold him at bay until we could make it to the helicopter.”

  “Check it out.”

  Smith inched forward, a terrified expression on his face.

  Katie struggled to a sitting position. “You will not get away with this.”

  “Oh, no?” Furlow jeered. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong.”

  “Is money worth so much to you you’d lie and cheat, steal and even kill?”

  “Yeah.” Furlow nodded. “It is.”

  The exit door hung slightly ajar. Smith nudged it with his toe. When nothing happened, he cautiously crept around the side and peered into the stairwell.

  “Nancy, I don’t see any—” His words cut short, followed by a muffled scream.

  “Idiot,” Furlow gloated and sprinted for the helicopter, duffel bag in one hand, her gun in the other.

  Confused, Katie hesitated. What had happened to Smith in the stairwell? Had Truman, alive and healthy, ambushed him? Joy erupted in her heart. Yes, that had to be the answer.

  If Truman was handling Smith, then it was up to her to intercept Furlow. Knowing she must stop the woman from taking off in that helicopter, Katie pushed herself off the ground and charged after the redhead. The wind whipped through Katie’s hair. Her knees and shins burned, but she didn’t care.

  Furlow heard her coming and picked up speed. The woman climbed into the pilot’s seat, but before she could slam the door shut, Katie was upon her.