Three Days to Forever (A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 9) Read online

  “Don’t bother with the purse,” she said. “I shot out the bottom of it. I’ve only had that Chanel handbag one month. I bought it for an obscenely low discount on Cyber Monday.”

  “Better your purse takes two bullets than you.” Murphy laid his hand on hers. His touch sent a wave of warmth through her body that instantly comforted her.

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  His eyes met hers. She didn’t know or care how long he held her gaze. It felt as if her problems—and the problem of their missing fathers—were somewhere far away in the background. At the moment, it was only the two of them.

  He abruptly released his hold on her hand to break the wonderful spell and stood up. “Well, I’ll go inside to see if they’ll release your keys and wallet so you won’t be completely handicapped.” He flashed her that brilliant smile filled with white teeth and partnered with twinkling blue eyes.

  She grasped his hand before he could step away. “If they’ll let you do that, then can you convince them to release my compact and lipstick?”

  “I’ll ask. No guarantees.”

  He turned away only to find her grasping his hand again with slender soft fingers tipped in fingernails that had been designed with white snowflakes dancing over a sky-blue background. “Can you get my cell phone, too? I have my life on that phone.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll let me take that, but I’ll ask them.”

  “Can you please ask?” Her violet eyes were pleading.

  Murphy felt a pang in his heart. Oh yeah, I’d kill if I had to just to kiss those lips of yours, lady. “Sure, buttercup, anything you ask.”

  Buttercup? She melted. He called me buttercup. Certainly a term of endearment.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “How about a café mocha with double cream and sugar?”

  “Is that in your purse, too?”

  “No, but they sell it inside, and that’s what I had stopped here for in the first place. That and gas.”

  “I don’t think they have gas inside,” he replied.

  “At the pump, silly. We need to stop for gas before we leave.”

  “You got it, buttercup.” Touching the tip of her nose, he flashed her a grin and went inside.

  With a deep sigh, she watched him walk away into the truck stop to retrieve her keys. The rear view was just as impressive as the front. When Spencer whined at his departure, she hugged her pup tightly. “Don’t worry, Spencer. He’ll be back.”

  Brave, handsome, and gentlemanly to boot. Oh, yeah, I’m going to stick to you like glue, Mr. Murphy Thornton.

  The emotions were crashing through her body like waves. She was shaking because of the cold and the fear. Yet the comforting warmth of where he had placed his hand on her elbow washed away her anxiety.

  To Jessica’s pleasure, he had returned with everything that she had asked for, including the café mocha coffee with double cream and sugar and her cell phone, which had all been photographed and processed by the police. They were kind enough to drop the contents of her purse into freezer bags for her to carry them in. Each item, including her Lancôme cosmetics, still had fingerprint powder on them.

  Murphy gassed up the Ferrari and backed out of the space to fall in behind a Maryland State cruiser. A second cruiser fell in behind the Ferrari, and the small convoy pulled out of the truck stop parking lot and onto the freeway. Jessica waited until they were on the freeway before asking him why he hadn’t gotten any coffee for himself.

  Murphy cringed before glancing over in her direction. “I don’t drink coffee. But thanks for asking.”

  “Tea drinker, huh?” she asked before taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee while being careful not to spill any on Spencer, who had laid down in her lap. The dog was gazing in total adoration at Murphy in the driver’s seat.

  “Herbal tea.” Murphy paused before adding, “I’m a vegetarian. I do eat fish, but—”

  “Coffee isn’t meat.”

  “It’s the caffeine, buttercup,” he explained. “I also don’t eat dairy or eggs. Occasionally I will eat cheese, but generally, I’m a pescetarian.” He sighed. “You’re going to think I’m weird.”

  “You saved my life, darling,” she said. “How could I think you’re weird?”

  Murphy said, “Normal people don’t go after half a dozen armed kidnappers.”

  “I’m glad you did,” she said. “Though I should note that I killed one, and I did save you from the guy who was about to pull his gun on you by dumping the hot coffee on him.”

  “Which proves coffee can be hazardous to your health.” Murphy shot her a broad smile.

  She tried not to melt in front of him at the sight of his dimples.

  “So where was Colt Fitzgerald while you were being kidnapped?”

  “You checked me out on your smartphone while you were inside the truck stop.” She fought the blush coming to her cheeks. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “That’s not what he says on Twitter. He is so looking forward to being your date for your father’s wedding. Sounds to me like you’re dating, buttercup.”

  “Not for long, darling,” she said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cameron maneuvered her white, unmarked cruiser down a two-lane country road, past a row of neat modular homes, until she found the number she was looking for: one hundred seventy-three. The name on the mailbox read “Douglas.”

  Through the six inches of snow, Cameron could see a neatly trimmed hedge. Around the corner, she saw an elaborate swing set in the spacious backyard that contained a willow tree and bird feeders.

  According to Cameron’s background check, Reginald Crane’s maid, Agnes Douglas, was seventy years old. Play set must be for grandchildren.

  She pulled her cruiser into the empty driveway and climbed out. As she rounded the fender of the cruiser, she glanced up and down the street. The homes were modest and neat in a middle-class, family neighborhood. Most of the vehicles were SUVs for mothers to carry their children from school to soccer games and dance recitals, which was what made the black and white Mini Cooper parked halfway down the block and across the street stand out.

  Narrowing her eyes, Cameron tried to focus on the car’s driver, whom she could not clearly make out through the windshield. She turned her attention to the license plate. It had Pennsylvania tags. She only read the first three letters, FDS, before the driver turned on the engine, raced down the street, turned the corner, and roared out of sight.

  “Can I help you?” Cameron heard an elderly woman call to her from her front door in her home across the yard and driveway.

  Startled out of her thoughts of who might be following her and why, Cameron turned around in the driveway to respond. “I’m looking for Agnes Douglas.” She wasn’t comfortable questioning potential witnesses via screaming across suburban front yards.

  “And who are you?”

  While Cameron made her way up the neighbor’s icy steps to the door, the elderly woman with a dark wig squinted through her dark glasses at her. “You aren’t one of her granddaughters.”

  “No, I’m not.” Once she made it to the door, Cameron presented her police detective shield to the woman. “I’m Detective Cameron Gates with the Pennsylvania State Police.”

  “State police?” the elderly neighbor clutched her chest. “Does this have to do with her grandson?”

  “What grandson?”

  “The one with the marines,” she said. “I forget his name. He’s stateside right now. But I guess his security clearances are coming due, so the federals have to reinvestigate him. Is that why you’re here? To do another background check on Freddie?”

  “No,” Cameron said. “I’m not with the feds. This has to do with another matter. I need to talk to Agnes. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “Not until next week.” The elder
ly neighbor smiled broadly to reveal her yellowed dentures. “Agnes is at her daughter’s wedding.”

  “Daughter?” Recalling that Agnes’ daughter had passed away over a dozen years earlier, Cameron’s head snapped up. Grasping for her memory of the background check, she asked, “Do you mean Kendra?”

  “That used to be her name,” the woman said. “She changed it. Agnes said it was a real complicated story. Anyway, she goes by Archie now—”

  “Archie Monday!” It came out as a gasp.

  “She’s marrying Robin Spencer’s son,” the woman said with pride. “Now that I do remember because I love all of Robin Spencer’s books. I sent my copy of her very first one and asked Agnes to get this man, Robin’s son, to sign it.” Her hands went to her hips. “I told those FBI agents all of this the other day. You would think you all would check with each other.”

  “What FBI agents?”

  “Two of them,” the neighbor said. “I guess they travel in pairs. One was young and had this big grin like Satan—”

  “Black.”

  “That was his name,” she nodded her head. “And the other was real sour. A real bump on a log.”

  Cameron was trying to keep calm. “And they were here yesterday.”

  “No, day before yesterday,” the elderly woman said. “I know because they came in the afternoon only a few hours after Agnes had left to go to the big fancy wedding.”

  Cameron couldn’t get away fast enough. She almost fell twice racing to her car in the driveway.

  Day before yesterday! They were here looking for Agnes before Crane’s body was even found. Before the shootout at Mac Faraday’s place—and Agnes was there!

  At her car, Cameron whipped out her burner phone and hit the redial button for David O’Callaghan. As soon as he picked up, she blurted out, “Agnes is the target!”

  “What?” David replied. “Agnes? Archie’s mother!”

  Cameron saw a dark shadow reflected in the snow on the opposite side of the driveway. Grabbing her gun, she whirled around, but not fast enough.

  The prongs from the Taser shot through her coat and connected with her side, sending a shock through her body. Her whole body jerked wildly while she fell to the ground.

  “You women just don’t know when to stop asking questions,” she heard Elder grunt before blackness overtook her.

  Spencer Police Department

  “That’s not possible.” David tried to maintain a respectable tone when he responded to Sheriff Christopher Turow’s latest development in the Russell Dooley murder.

  Mac Faraday’s blood and DNA had been found at the murder scene.

  “I had them run the results through twice,” the sheriff said in a low voice even though they were in the privacy of his office. “Mac’s blood is on the knife, in drops leading to the sink, and in it.”

  “Which means he got cut while stabbing Dooley,” David said. “But I saw Mac with my own two eyes yesterday—after the murder. He doesn’t have a mark on him.”

  “Sorry, O’Callaghan,” the sheriff said with a shake of his head, “but I know how tight you two are. You’re in his wedding, damn it. I need to see Mac myself and document that he has no cuts on him, and I need to interrogate him. You need to bring him in. We’ll protect him and Thornton from whoever it is that’s after them.”

  “Yeah, by slapping Mac in a cell,” David said.

  “Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t do the same if our positions were reversed.”

  Even though it was true, David wanted to deny Turow’s statement so badly that he welcomed the call on his burner phone. Fearing it was Mac, he grabbed it from the case and brought it to his ear.

  “What?”

  “Agnes is the target!” Cameron shouted into the phone.

  “What?” David covered his other ear. “Agnes? Archie’s mother!”

  Instead of repeating herself, Cameron screamed.

  “Cameron!” David shouted into the phone. “What’s going on?”

  He heard a loud crackle sound before the phone went dead.

  “What is it?” Sheriff Turow asked with his hand on his radio.

  “Thornton’s wife just called.” David threw open his office door. “She says Agnes Douglas is the target.”

  “The old woman?” Sheriff Turow was behind him. “How? Why would anyone send a hit squad after an old woman?”

  “I don’t know!” David was trying to redial the number, which went straight to a voicemail box. “Cameron, call me! I’m taking my men out to get Agnes Douglas and bring Mac and Josh in, but I need answers about what you’ve uncovered.”

  Gesturing at his officers in the squad room, David snapped orders while grabbing a ballistics vest. “We’re going to the safe house to bring in Faraday and Thornton. I just got information that the target is Agnes Douglas.”

  “The old woman?” Tonya gasped.

  “Tonya, Gates and I got cut off,” David said. “Call the Pennsylvania State Police to make sure she’s okay. She’s obviously happened onto something big.”

  Turow was already on his radio calling in back-up. “Me and my people are coming with you.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me,” David replied on his way out the door.

  While running for his cruiser, David pulled out his cell phone and thumbed the number for Joshua’s burner phone. The call was still connecting when he saw the purple Ferrari pull into the parking lot.

  Seeing the police swarming out of the police station, Murphy and Jessica, who was clutching her sheltie pup, jumped out.

  “What’s going on?” Murphy demanded to know. “Is it another attack?’

  Recognizing the purple sports car, David stopped before climbing into his cruiser. “We got a lead on who’s the target. Are you Lieutenant Thornton?”

  “Yes, sir! Permission to offer my assistance, Major!”

  “Major?” Jessica murmured.

  David hesitated a moment before gesturing at the passenger door of his cruiser. “Get in.”

  On the other side of the cruiser, David pressed the phone to his ear. “Mac! David! Agnes is the target. I don’t have time to explain. We’re on our way up to get you. You’re coming in.”

  Murphy turned to Jessica. “I’m going with them.” He grabbed his canvas bag out of the backseat of the car. “You go up to the Spencer Inn, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “I’m going with you.” Still clutching Spencer in her arms, she rushed around to stop him with her hand on his arm. “My dad’s in trouble.”

  Uttering a whine, Spencer licked his arm.

  “And how are you going to help him?” Murphy argued.

  “Move your ass, Lieutenant!” David snapped from the driver’s seat. “Or I’m leaving you behind.”

  Murphy clasped his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Go straight to the Spencer Inn and leave your room number at the front desk. I’m bringing your dad and mine back home.”

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Be careful.”

  As if to urge them along, David started the cruiser’s engine. Fearing the police chief would leave him behind, Murphy turned to grab the door handle.

  Before he could pull away, Jessica kissed him on the cheek. When he jerked back to look at her, she smiled softly. “For luck.”

  He kissed his fingertip and touched the tip of her nose. “Same to you, buttercup.”

  “Today, Lieutenant!” David yelled.

  Murphy threw open the cruiser’s door and tossed his bag inside on the floor.

  “You better be careful, honey buns,” she shouted. “I’m planning on kissing you New Year’s Eve.”

  “You can count on it.” Murphy turned around to climb into the front seat.

  Struck with a sudden thought, Jessica whirled around and shouted over the cruiser’s engine to Murphy i
nside the front passenger seat. “You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

  David’s head snapped around, and he stopped trying to back up.

  A wide, wicked grin crossed Murphy’s face before he closed the door and lowered the window. “No, but if you’re interested, I’ll be glad to discuss the position with you later in your room at the hotel.”

  “Oh, I love it when a man talks dirty to me,” she oozed while David backed the cruiser out of the parking space, turned on the sirens and lights, and sped out of the police parking lot with two cruisers behind him.

  While David fought to keep the cruiser on the road at this news, Murphy bent over and opened up the canvas bag to reveal his utility belt, which contained a host of weapons, some of which David recognized. Trying to maneuver on the icy roads, he tried to conceal his shock at seeing that the utility belt had two guns on it, one for each hip.

  “Twice the firepower.” Murphy fastened the belt on. He also removed a black, light-weight and form-fitting bullet-proof vest.

  “FYI, Lieutenant Thornton, Jessica Faraday’s father, Mac Faraday, is my best friend.”

  Murphy sat straight up in his seat while David flicked his eyes in his direction.

  “You break her heart, and I’ll personally rip yours out.”

  “That’s never going to happen, sir,” Murphy replied.

  “Good.” David’s lips curled to hear the sincerity in the young navy officer’s tone.

  “I’m in love with her, sir.”

  “What in the world are you talking about saying I’m the target?” Agnes said in a tone that was a mixture of outrage and laughter while Mac paced from one end of the cabin to the other.

  The two Spencer Police Officers, Officers Fletcher and Zigler, trusted members of David’s police force, had split up to watch at different vantage points of the house. At the end of the bedroom hallway, Joshua was peering out the side door to the woods.

  Whining, Gnarly was pacing from one door to the other and then the other. His snout was twitching. After years of working with Gnarly, Mac sensed that Gnarly was picking up on scents that were threatening.