Sawyer scrubbed at the evening beard peppering his jaw. “What happened?”
“The Department Of Corrections in Jefferson City had him out to testify in the Wolfe case, along with two other prisoners who were involved in different federal investigations. From what I understand, there were weapons planted in the courtroom. Artillery fire from a van outside knocked out one of the walls.”
“Artillery fire? Sounds like an invasion. Or terrorists.”
“Somebody had some money and connections behind the escape. One prison escort is dead and another critical. At least three other personnel from the courthouse are hospitalized in serious condition. I don’t know how many others suffered minor injuries. They kidnapped the stenographer, but dumped her before their getaway car went into the river. The feds are already on-site, along with the DOC and local authorities. They’re still cleaning up the mess. State police claim at least one of the prisoners was hit before they rammed the car and knocked it off the bridge. They’re dredging the river where the car went in, but have come up with nothing.”
“Three escapees and at least one accomplice if those guns were planted, but no bodies have been found?” Sawyer didn’t know whether to curse or laugh.
“Not one. No John Doe gunshot victims reported at any local hospitals. No one washed up on the banks. The Missouri has a deep channel and strong currents in that part of the state, so they could be miles downstream by now. Longbow and the others could be anywhere in Missouri, anywhere in the country by now. Hell, if he survived, he could be back here in K.C.”
Sawyer’s muscles jumped with the desire to join in the manhunt. But pacing off the length of the kitchen seemed to be his only option right now. “And there are no leads?”
Seth’s no was colorful and emphatic. “It’s no secret that Longbow’s former boss, Theodore Wolfe, took out a hit on Longbow—to shut his mouth and keep Ace from testifying against him. As easy as it is to off a guy in lockup, why go to all this trouble? Besides, we shut Wolfe down—turned over all his men to Interpol or local authorities. If he still has the connections to pull off something this big, then he’d have left the body to prove it.”
Seth had survived turning on the Wolfes himself. Saywer’s father had survived bringing the Wolfe family to justice. Was John Kincaid’s murder related to Longbow’s escape from prison?
“I thought you should know,” Seth went on, explainingthe real purpose behind this call on this day. “You were there at the casino to provide backup for me while I was undercover with the Wolfe family, and I know you developed some kind of…attachment to Longbow’s ex-wife.”
The pacing stopped.
Melissa Teague. Single mom and cocktail waitress. Sawyer had been playing bartender and bouncer back then and had worked with Melissa. An image of her small, perfectly proportioned figure filling out that skimpy saloon-girl costume the waitresses had worn popped into his mind, as vivid and distracting as the real woman had been. He remembered Melissa as a pretty little slip of a thing—all blue eyes and golden hair. And bruises. Sprained wrists.
And fear.
“We all wanted to take care of her.” But they had all failed her.
The sandwich Sawyer had wolfed down to appease his mother churned in his stomach at the memory of seeing Melissa in a hospital bed, looking small and pale as she lay in a coma, fighting for her life. The last time he’d seen her awake, she’d rolled over in the hospital bed and turned her back on him. Even though he’d told her he’d been working undercover, that he was a cop and the bartender she’d known as Tom Sawyer was really Thomas Sawyer Kincaid, she still associated him with the Wolfe crime family and the place where Ace Longbow had tried to kill her.
Or maybe an oversize, overbuilt truck of a man lurkingin her doorway was too much of a reminder of her abusive ex.
Sawyer hissed a frustrated breath through tightly clenched teeth. He had no special claim on Melissa. She’d made it clear that, despite sharing a few cups of coffee before work, or walking her to her car after closing, she wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe not with any man. Considering her background, he couldn’t blame her. “Why call me?”
“So far, we’ve been able to keep the escapees’names out of the press and the details sketchy. We’ve got every man on this. As soon as we got the wire from Jeff City, we dispatched a car to Melissa’s house to keep an eye on things.” Seth’s long pause bespoke the depth of the favor he was asking of Sawyer. “I know the timing sucks. But I figured she’d rather hear the news from a familiar face than a stranger.”
“Ah, hell.” He finally had it fixed in his brain that he’d never see Melissa again. That was the only way he’d been able to get past the guilt and the wanting.
“Can you handle it tonight? If not, I’ll take a break and go over there myself. She should know that her ex-husband escaped, and that he’s either dead or missing.”
Sawyer had been a cop for ten years. He’d been John Kincaid’s son long before that. Doing the hard thing—doing the right thing—simply because it had to be done wasn’t something he’d backed down from before. He wouldn’t skip out on his duty now. No matter how raw he was already feeling inside. “No. You know the players better than any of us. You need to be there at the precinct office to keep track of information as it comes in. I’ll go.”
“Thanks, Sawyer.” Seth apologized for his and his wife’s early departure after the funeral. “I’m sorry Bec and I didn’t make it to the reception. You know how much John meant to both of us. But when the call came in—”
“Forget it. I’m glad you’re there to handle it.”
“I had a lot of respect for your dad.”
“We all did.” The heartfelt words should have calmed him, centered him. But for a man who was used to doing rather than talking, the lengthy conversation made him antsy to get this errand over with. “You go back to work. I’ll get over to Melissa’s.”
Seth seemed to understand, and traded instructions instead of goodbyes. “Flash your badge to the man in the squad car. Captain Taylor gave him orders to shoot first and ask questions later if anyone approaches the house.”
“Got it.”
“Is there a problem, son?” The swinging kitchen door closed behind Susan Kincaid as Sawyer hung up the phone. She looked tired, like she wasn’t eating enough, like maybe there were a few more threads of gray in her dark brown hair than had been there a week ago.
But Sawyer still stood up a little straighter when she crossed her arms and tilted her chin with that I-dare-you- to-lie-to-me look that had gotten him to fess up from the time he was a small boy. “I’m sorry. Something’s come up at work. I need to go take care of it.”
That stern-mama look had never lasted for long. It didn’t now. Instead, Susan reached up and tugged Sawyer’s wrinkled tie free from his collar. She smoothed the front of his unbuttoned uniform jacket and straightened his shirt. “Of all my boys, you never were one to sit still and worry things through for very long. Probably why you were the one we always had to drive to the emergency room.” Her hands settled at the center of his chest, warming Sawyer all the way through to his heart. “Staying dressed up and putting on a game face all day long must be driving you crazy.”
Sawyer grinned. “You think you know me that well, huh?”
“Please. After thirty-two years, I know you better than you know yourself. If you need to crash out and take care of something, do it. Your father’s assistant, Brooke, is here to help me, and she’s keeping things running so efficiently that there’s nothing much for any of us to do. Your brothers will understand if you need to leave. I understand.” She turned him toward door and gave him a push. “Now go. Just give me a call later so I know you’re all right.”
Though Susan Kincaid’s will was a force to be reckoned