Kara Lennox - For Just Cause

“Thanks. I appreciate the information.”

“No problem.” He flicked his ash into the breeze. “You busy later?”

Lord, she hoped so. She cast a glance toward the back of the building. “Um, my partner is really jealous. You probably don’t want him to see us talking.”

The man gave her a regretful look, then turned and sauntered away.

Billy reappeared around the corner. “No fire escape. This building is a code inspector’s nightmare. Who was that guy you were talking to?”

“A neighbor. He says we’ll find Angie at her parents’ house, which she now considers hers.”

“Probably at least half of it is. Mary-Francis wouldn’t have been allowed to keep the profits from her crime—in this case, her half of the community property. Was there a will?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s check out the house.” He paused just before getting into the Roadster. “There’s no reason you have to waste your whole day running around checking out leads. You can drop me at the office and get back to your work. I can do this on my own.”

“I want to meet Angie,” Claudia said firmly as she opened the car door. It had sat in the sun only a few minutes, but hot air wafted out, and she waited for it to cool off slightly before she climbed inside. “I want to see for myself how she acts when we bring up the coins…and her father.”

Billy’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t trust me. You don’t think I can handle it.”

“Oh, no, Billy, it’s not that. I just…I feel so responsible for Mary-Francis ending up on death row. The prosecution used certain parts of my evaluation to make things worse for her. If there’s any chance of saving her…I just want to do my part, that’s all.”

“You did your part. You drew the case to our attention. We can take it—”

“Billy, don’t be difficult. I want to go with you to interview Angie.”

“So you can do your hocus-pocus on her.”

“My assessment could be of value to you. Why don’t you just accept my help?”

“I work better alone.”

“If I hadn’t been here, if I hadn’t talked to that neighbor, you wouldn’t even know where to find Angie.”

“I would have figured it out.”

“We don’t have all day. If Angie finds the coins—”

“If the coins even exist.”

“They do. Mary-Francis was telling the truth about that, though not necessarily about the particulars.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You can come with me. But I don’t want to have to look out for your safety all the time, okay? I almost had a heart attack when I saw you talking to that lowlife just now, and I realized I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I was fine. That guy was not dangerous. Just because he’s poor and has tattoos doesn’t mean—”

“Save me from a lecture about stereotypes. I’m a former cop and I can smell trouble. That guy was no angel.”

“We won’t be going anywhere dangerous,” Claudia persisted. Even though she was the one with the car keys, Billy had taken firm control of the reins.

“Angie could be dangerous. She has something to lose, if she thinks we might be challenging her right to her parents’ stuff. Addicts do desperate things when they’re cornered.”

Claudia couldn’t argue about that.

She should have just climbed behind the wheel, rather than debating with Billy over the roof of her car. But she felt compelled to make him agree with her. “It’ll be fine.”

“If I sense any danger, we’re getting out of there. You’ll do what I tell you to do. Is that clear?”

“Man, who pushed your macho button?” But she had to admit, he looked magnificent making his male dominance display. He leaned against the roof of the car, arms widespread, muscles tense, jaw firm. Any second now he would start beating those impressive pecs of his.

Her heart gave a flutter. At least that wasn’t on display for anyone to see.

“I can call Daniel,” Billy said. “He’ll back me up.”

“All right, I get it. Your word is the law where our personal safety is concerned. This is your case. I’m along to observe and assist. Is that good enough?”

The split-second expression of triumph on his face made her grind her teeth. But at least he’d shown her something.

CHAPTER THREE

EDUARDO AND MARY-FRANCIS Torres had lived in a solidly upper-middle-class neighborhood in Conroe, a Houston suburb. Their subdivision wasn’t quite uppity enough to be a gated community—but close. Tall limestone-brick walls flanked the subdivision entrance with a carved stone sign that read Pecan Grove. The cookie-cutter houses, built in the ’90s, were all too large for their tiny lots, but the saplings planted by the neighborhood developers had grown into mature trees and the homes were well maintained.

The Torres house was on Apple Blossom Court, a peculiar name for a street in a climate where apples couldn’t grow.

Out of habit, Billy paid close attention to the configuration of streets so he knew the fastest way to the nearest exit.

Claudia thought he was being macho, but he wasn’t kidding about the danger. Angie was a drug-addicted woman in a dramatic family situation who undoubtedly felt stressed and could erupt into violence at any time. He stood a better chance of surviving unscathed if he didn’t have to worry about a companion’s safety before his own.

But he couldn’t deny it felt great to be back out in the field.

When he’d first hired on with Project Justice, he’d told Daniel he was no longer comfortable facing danger on a daily basis. Daniel had responded by saying he wouldn’t require anything of Billy that he wasn’t ready to deal with.

Somehow, after three years on the job, Daniel knew Billy was ready. Billy could have said no to this assignment. But though he’d made a few token objections, he’d eventually accepted the responsibility of unraveling the puzzle.

Claudia’s onboard GPS found the Torres home with no trouble. The house was tan brick, just like all the others, but the lawn was yellow and scraggly and the landscaping hadn’t been tended to in months. A for-sale sign featuring the photo of a smiling female Realtor advertised that the property had four bedrooms and a pool.

Claudia pulled up to the curb just as a woman stepped out the front door, her cell phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. She frowned as Billy and Claudia climbed out.

“If you’re here about the car, it’s already sold,” she said. She was tall and painfully thin, with toothpick legs sticking out of her cutoff shorts. She had stringy, shoulder-length hair clumsily streaked with reddish-blond stripes. Her skin was pasty, and overall she had a look of ill health about her. Billy would have pegged her as a crack addict even if he hadn’t already known she had a drug problem.

She returned her attention back to her caller. “Sorry, I was talking to someone.” She opened the mailbox and pulled out a wad of envelopes that looked an awful lot like bills. Billy could just make out the FINAL NOTICE in large red letters on one envelope. Angie riffled through the mail and picked out one envelope to rip open. She turned her back on Billy and Claudia and headed back indoors.

“Excuse me. Ms. Torres?”

“I’ll have to call you back,” she said into the phone as she paused and turned to narrow her eyes at Billy. “What?”

“I’m Billy Cantu with Project Justice. This is my associate, Claudia Ellison. We need to talk to you about your mother.”

“Are you those people who get criminals out of jail?”

“We free innocent people who have been unjustly imprisoned,” he corrected her.

“Please don’t tell me you think my mom is innocent.”

“We have some questions, that’s all,” Claudia said. “Could we go inside and talk for just a few minutes?”