Stranded with the Suspect Page 5

  “You shot him.” He couldn’t tell if the idea frightened or comforted her.

  “I did. That will slow him down. He’ll have to get help, and when he does, we’ll bring him in.”

  He had already gotten through to a supervisor at the Denver Police Department. He hoped this second attack would shock them into real action. They were sending over a senior officer, and soon every cop in the city would be looking for the man who had tried to kill a young woman at the Brown Palace. Simon would try to keep Andi’s name out of the news, but the information was bound to leak eventually.

  Andi Matheson had been one of the beautiful people who had been a fixture at every prominent social function in Denver and DC. Her disappearance five months ago, and subsequent reports that she had become Daniel Metwater’s most devoted follower, had kept the interest in her alive. News that she had resurfaced—and that she had been almost killed by the man she had given up pretty much everything for—would be enough to send the media into a frenzy.

  He pulled out his phone and called Pogue. “An ambulance and the Denver Police are on their way over,” he said. “Direct them to Ms. Daniels’s suite.”

  “Is she okay? What happened?”

  “Metwater came back. She’s frightened, but she’ll be okay.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know. But he’s wounded and he’s got a knife.”

  “I’ll let my men know.”

  The room phone rang, the bell loud and jarring. Simon answered it. “Ms. Daniels?” The woman on the other end sounded unsure.

  “This is Officer Woolridge. I’m with Ms. Daniels.”

  “This is Cami at the front desk. There’s an ambulance here, and two police officers.”

  “Send them up.”

  Five minutes later, the room was full of people—three EMTs, two police officers, Pogue and another man who said he was with hotel management. Simon started to move away from the bed, but Andi grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave me!” she pleaded.

  “I won’t go far,” he said. “But I need to let the EMTs examine you.”

  One of the emergency medical technicians moved in alongside Simon. “It’ll be all right, ma’am,” he said. “You’ll feel a lot better once we get this checked out and cleaned up.”

  Simon stepped back, and a wiry black man in uniform tapped him on the shoulder. “You Simon Woolridge?” he asked.

  “I’m with Immigration and Customs Enforcement.” Simon showed his badge.

  “Sergeant Tyson Daley.” Sergeant Daley glanced at the bed, where two EMTs were bent over Andi. “She an illegal?”

  “I’m on special assignment with the Ranger Brigade, working out of Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. We’re a federal task force focused on crime on public lands.”

  “You’re a few hundred miles out of your territory, aren’t you?” Daley asked.

  “I came to Denver to apprehend a fugitive, Daniel Metwater,” Simon said. “He’s the one who cut her.”

  “We had a report of a domestic dispute here earlier,” Daley said. “This the same guy?”

  “It is. He must have hidden in the hotel until he saw his chance to get at her again.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Daley said.

  “I shot him—got him in the shoulder, I think.”

  Daley didn’t look happy about this news. “So now we’re looking for a wounded crazy guy with a knife. What do you want him for, anyway?”

  “Kidnapping and attempted murder, for starters. But he may be connected to several other crimes.”

  Daley pulled out a tablet computer. “Okay. Let me get some particulars and we’ll put out an APB and alert the local hospitals and emergency clinics. I’m gonna need a statement from you and from Ms. Daniels.”

  Simon didn’t bother telling him he would have to wait for his statement. As soon as Simon was satisfied that Andi was safe, he was going to follow Metwater’s trail himself. While he wouldn’t be upset if the locals caught up with the Prophet before he hurt anyone else, Simon wanted the satisfaction of being the one to track him down.

  He gave Daley the information he needed, then excused himself. “I need to call in to my commander,” he said.

  Though it was after two in the morning, Commander Graham Ellison of the Ranger Brigade answered on the fourth ring. “Ellison.”

  “It’s Simon. I’m here with Andi Matheson at the Brown Palace in Denver. Metwater tried to get to her. I wounded him, but he got away.”

  “I’m listening.” Simon pictured the commander moving from his bedroom to his home office, transitioning from family man to cop. “Tell me everything.”

  Simon summed up all that had happened since he had arrived in Denver. “I’m going after Metwater,” he concluded. “But first I need to make sure Andi is safe.”

  “Do you think she’s still a target?” Graham asked.

  “Yes,” Simon said. “He’s going to come back for her.”

  “Then stay with her,” the commander ordered. “Be ready when he comes back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We obtained a warrant and searched his motor home,” the commander said. “The team is still sorting through everything we found—a number of items that apparently belonged to his brother, as well as items from the family business in Chicago.”

  “Anything that links him directly to a crime?” Simon asked. He wanted everything they could find to throw at Metwater in court, so that he would stay behind bars for a very long time.

  “Not yet,” Ellison said. “Michelle Munson says he has a necklace that belonged to her sister—the one she thinks David Metwater murdered—but we haven’t located it. We’re still looking though.”

  “What about the rest of his followers?”

  “A few are still in camp, but most of them have moved out—back to family or old hangouts. We have a census and asked them to provide contact information. A couple had outstanding warrants, and we turned them over to the Montrose sheriff’s office.”

  “Any clue where Metwater would go to hide?” Simon asked. “Any other property he owns? Friends? Relatives?”

  “We haven’t found anything like that yet, but we’re looking. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Something else you could look into for me,” Simon said. “There’s a Russian guy, midthirties, blond with a goatee. He approached Andi in the hotel lobby last night—called her by her real name and pretended they had met at some social function a while back. She swears she had never seen him before. He was asking about Metwater.”

  “If he’s Russian, he won’t be a friend of Metwater’s,” the commander said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “I’ll see what we can find out about him.”

  Simon ended the call, and one of the EMTs approached. “The wounds aren’t severe, but she’s had quite a shock,” the tech said. “With her advanced pregnancy, we’d like to take her in to the hospital to be monitored overnight.”

  Simon glanced over the man’s shoulder and found Andi’s gaze fixed on him. “What does she think of the idea?”

  “She doesn’t want to go, but she’s worried about the baby. She said she would consent if it was all right with you.”

  “Tell her I’ll come with her.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Tell her I won’t leave her.” Not until he knew she was safe. Metwater wouldn’t give up yet. Andi Matheson wasn’t the kind of woman a man left behind.

  * * *

  VICTOR KRAYEV SAT in his rental car across the street from the Brown Palace Hotel, cell phone clamped to his ear. “I had to leave the hotel,” he said. “There’s a cop in there who’s watching Andi Matheson. He started questioning me, and I figured I’d better lay low for a while.”

  “Why is he watching her?” the man on the other
end of the line asked. He was the one who had hired Victor for this job, and for many others.

  “Maybe the same reason I’m here—he wants Metwater.”

  “He can wait in line.”

  “When we get through with Metwater, there won’t be anything left for the police,” Victor said.

  “Did you talk to the woman?”

  “I approached her in the lobby. I pretended we had met before, at a party. She seemed upset that I knew her real name—she’s registered at the hotel under an alias—Daniels.”

  “Metwater probably thought of that. He believes he’s so clever.”

  “I asked her about Metwater, but the cop interfered before she could answer. I’m sure she’s in contact with him though. Metwater made the reservation at the hotel and personally delivered her here. And she’s going to have his kid any day now. Not to mention she’s loaded. If he’s planning on skipping town, my bet is he’s going to take her with him.”

  “Do whatever it takes to get him. And the key. We must have that key.”

  “I know my job. I haven’t failed you yet, have I?”

  “Don’t let this be the first time.”

  He ended the call and tucked the phone back inside his jacket. The lights from the hotel cast a golden glow over the warm brown stone of the facade, though many of the rooms were dark and only a few people came and went from the lobby. Daniel Metwater wasn’t one of them.

  Flashing lights distracted him, and he turned to see an ambulance approaching. It pulled up to the hotel, followed by two Denver Police cars. Victor sat forward, straining for a better look.

  Then he dug out his phone and dialed the hotel number. “Welcome to the Brown Palace Hotel and Spa. This is Cami. How may I—”

  “Cami, it’s Vince. How are you doing, beautiful?”

  “Oh, Vince. Hi.” Her voice took on a girlish flutter. “I’m good. How are you?”

  “I’m good, gorgeous. I just drove by on my way downtown and saw the cop cars and an ambulance. What’s going on over there?”

  “Oh, um, well. I’m not sure I’m supposed to say.”

  “Aw come on. Who am I gonna tell? I just want to know if it’s safe to come back and see you again.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s safe.” She lowered her voice. “I had to move away from the desk. I guess the cops are here because there was a fight upstairs. It happens sometimes. Word is some woman got cut.”

  “What woman? Do you know her name?”

  “I’m sure I’m not supposed to say that.” Her tone was teasing. Flirtatious.

  He mirrored it. “How about if I guess and you tell me if I’m right?” he asked. “Was it Ms. Daniels, up on the fourteenth floor?”

  She gasped. “How did you know?”

  He hadn’t known. But since Andi Matheson was the only occupant of the hotel he cared about, hers was the only name he had to throw out there. “Lucky guess,” he said. “Is she going to be all right? Do they know who cut her?”

  “I don’t know who did it, but I guess he got away, because I overheard security talking with one of the cops about looking for him. But I don’t know any more than that. Honestly, I don’t.”

  “There’s another man there,” Victor said. “A plainclothes cop. Dark hair and eyes. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt. What’s his name?”

  “Do you mean Mr. Woolridge? He has the room two doors down from Ms. Daniels. Is he really a cop?”

  “That’s him,” Victor said. “I thought I recognized him—an old friend I haven’t seen in a long while. I’ll have to say hello to him next time I’m at the hotel.”

  “When will that be?” Cami asked. “When will I see you again?”

  He cringed at the whine in her voice. “Soon,” he said. “You don’t think I could stay away from you long, do you?”

  She giggled. “I have to go now,” she said. “Call me back in an hour or two, after the commotion has died down.”

  “Sure thing, darling.” He ended the call. Cami wouldn’t be hearing from Vince again, but she didn’t have to know that. Victor would keep an eye on the ambulance, and on its occupant. He would bet gold that Daniel Metwater was the one who had cut Andi. Maybe she had given him grief about the trouble he was in, or she didn’t want to leave her cushy hotel. He had cut her, but something or someone had interrupted him—the cop Victor had met in the bar?

  Maybe, but Metwater wasn’t one to leave a job unfinished. He would be back. And when he showed up, Victor would be there. The man owed a debt, and Victor fully intended to collect.

  Chapter Six

  Andi woke to soft pink light reflected off walls the color of clouds at sunset. Lime-sherbet tinted sheets covered her, and the gentle beeping of a monitor and low murmur of distant voices provided soothing background sounds that threatened to lull her back to sleep. Then she swallowed, and the ache at her throat reminded her of everything that had happened last night. Heart pounding, she looked around and spotted Simon, slumped in a chair beside the bed, asleep.

  He needed a shave, as evidenced by the suggestion of a dark beard along his jaw, and his shirt was rumpled, his hair uncombed. He looked dangerous, but seeing him there calmed her. As she studied him, he stirred and opened his eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

  “A little sore, but okay.” Better than she would have expected. She smoothed the sheets over her belly. “The doctors said everything checked out okay. I guess I was lucky.”

  He made a noise she took for assent, and stretched.

  “What time is it?” she asked, looking for, but not finding, a clock.

  “Morning.”

  “Have you been here all night?” The thought touched her.

  “I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “What happened to the Prophet?” she asked. “Did you find him?”

  “Not yet. But every cop in the state is looking for him. He won’t get away.”

  “I won’t be safe until you capture him.” Saying the words made her feel heavy with sadness.

  “No. But we will capture him.”

  She looked away, trying to process this thought. It was what she wanted—Daniel Metwater locked away so he could never hurt her again. But she had a hard time reconciling the man who had hurt her—the one she was so afraid of now—with the man she had followed and adored for the past seven months.

  She slid her hand up to clutch the necklace. Daniel hadn’t minded that she had taken it. Was that because it was evidence he had been involved in a crime, and now that she had it, he thought the police couldn’t link it to him? Michelle had talked about a necklace that belonged to her sister, who had died of an overdose in David Metwater’s apartment. But maybe the sister had given it to David, and that was why Daniel, as his brother’s heir, had it.

  Andi shook her head. It was all so confusing.

  The door to the room opened and a slender man in green scrubs hurried in. “Ms. Daniels, how are you feeling this morning?” he asked. “I’m Dr. Ogilvie. I saw you last night.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Very well, thank you.”

  Dr. Ogilvie studied the array of machines and nodded, apparently satisfied. “As I said last night, keeping you for observation was just a precaution. No worries. As soon as I sign the discharge papers, you’re free to go, though you’ll want to take it easy and avoid stress.” He looked at Simon when he spoke the last words.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Simon said.

  The doctor opened his mouth as if to say more, but his gaze shifted to the gun at Simon’s side and he pressed his lips together, silent.

  The doctor was scarcely out the door when a nurse bustled in, long braids gathered in a ponytail atop her head. “I’m here to unhook you from all the monitors and help you get dressed,” she said. She scowled at Simon. “You can go get coffee down the hal
l while we’re busy. You look as if you need it.”

  As Simon left the room, Andi resisted the urge to call after him. She had never been one to startle at shadows before, so she wasn’t going to start now.

  “He wouldn’t budge from your side all night,” the nurse said as she began disconnecting tubes and switching off machines. “Sat in that chair all night and glared at anyone who came near you. I’ve seen overprotective husbands before, but he beats them all. Must be the cop thing.”

  Andi let the words flow over her, not bothering to correct the woman’s assumption that Simon was her husband. If she had had someone to protect her so fiercely all along, maybe she wouldn’t be in such a fix now.

  The nurse pressed a bandage over the small hole where the IV needle had been inserted. “All untethered now,” she said. “Your clothes are in the little cabinet in the bathroom. You can shower if you like. Do you need any help?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “There’s a call button in the bathroom if you need anything, or your husband can always help you.”

  She hurried away, and Andi shuffled to the bathroom, the idea of Simon helping her undress—and shower—sending a not-unpleasant flutter of arousal through her. Where had that come from?

  By the time she emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, freshly showered and wearing the slacks, top and boots that Simon or someone must have fetched from her hotel room, she felt much more alert and ready to face whatever lay ahead.

  Simon was sitting in the chair by her bed. He handed her a cup of coffee. “If you don’t drink coffee, or you’re not supposed to have it, I can get something else,” he said. “Tea or milk or juice.”

  “Coffee’s good.” She sipped from the cup. The coffee was heavily laced with cream and sugar—just the way she liked it. She had tried to limit her caffeine during her pregnancy, but she couldn’t give it up altogether.

  Simon looked around the room. “Do you have anything to take with you?”

  The gown she had arrived in had been stained with blood—she shuddered at the memory. In any case, it had been discarded and quickly exchanged for a hospital smock. She shook her head. “No. What will we do now?”