Ramsey Rules Page 33

  Finch was silent after repeating the information.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Finch?”

  “Um, yes. Yes.”

  Jay mouthed a question. She repeated it to Finch. “When will the money be available for withdrawal?”

  “How soon are you flying to the Caymans?”

  Ramsey’s lifted her eyes from the phone to Jay and narrowed them accusingly. “Thank you. That’s all I needed. Go play with your granddaughter. Enjoy that.”

  “Ramsey, I—”

  She ended the call. “Bastard,” she said. “I was right about you. You are leaving.”

  “Easy there, Liz. Give me some credit for trying to protect you. I told you what I thought you could handle. Just what you needed to know. I gave you an alibi if you need one. I don’t see why you will. This is between you and me. It is, isn’t it?”

  Ramsey merely continued to stare at him.

  “You’ve made a decent life for yourself. Not what I would do if I had your means, but then you always did have pedestrian tastes. It was charming in the beginning. Later on, not so much. I need you to say it, Liz. This stays between you and me.”

  “Whatever you want, Jay.”

  “It’s really about what you want. The anonymity. Your silence guarantees my silence. That’s how it works.”

  “I understand,” she said quietly.

  “Good.” His chair scraped the floor as he got to his feet. Rather than heading for the front door, he went to the refrigerator and took out a beer. He twisted off the cap and tossed it in the sink. “I guess you didn’t think to get something decent to drink when you were shopping.”

  “Didn’t realize I’d be entertaining.”

  “What about Dudley? Is this what he likes?”

  “I’m not talking to you about him.”

  “Not even about his preference in beer? How about in bed? What does he like to do to you there?”

  Ramsey did glance toward the front door now. Where were the police? How long had it been since she spoke to the alarm company? “You have what you came for. You should leave.”

  “In a minute. I want to finish this.” In spite of his words, he only took a single swallow. “So, we were talking about the Dud in your bedroom. How is that for you?”

  She resisted telling him that Sullivan was far superior in bed and out of it. Anyone who took the least consideration of her needs would be. She remained sitting, turning the phone over in her hand.

  Jay’s gaze dropped to her phone. “Still thinking about calling the police? Or maybe the Dud? I’d like to meet him. I’ve been wondering if your tastes have changed there as well.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet him.” Ramsey risked the narrowest look away from Jay when movement outside the kitchen window caught her attention. It was too brief a glimpse to identify who was there, but it seemed likely that it was someone from the station responding to the security company’s call. Finally. It was her only thought.

  Jay spun away from the refrigerator and looked toward the window. “What is it?” he asked. “What did you see?”

  So much for stealing a glance, Ramsey thought. “The neighbor’s cat. He’s a big old Tom, but he can still make the leap to the window box. I don’t even try to keep flowers in it any longer.”

  Jay set his beer down on the counter and went to the back door. He put his face close to the window and looked out. The afternoon light was only beginning to fade and he had a clear view of Ramsey’s yard. “You’ve become a facile liar, Liz.” He turned around and faced her again. “There’s no cat.”

  “Mr. Peeve comes and goes as he pleases, Jay. He’s a cat.”

  Searching her face, Jay said, “I don’t know. It seems to me that you’ve become pretty light on your feet.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Your life. Everything’s easy for you. I thought I made an easy life for you when we were together, but I see now that I failed. It wasn’t enough that I took care of your tuition, shepherded you through school, managed the bills, saw that you wanted for nothing, and kept you sheltered. Why wasn’t that enough, Liz? Why did you leave me?”

  Ramsey did not like where he was taking this conversation. “You know why, and the fact that you keep pretending ignorance is frankly disturbing.” She stood. “I want you to leave.”

  “What I want has never mattered to you. It was the great inequity in our marriage. You took and took and rarely gave anything in return. I accepted your selfishness because I loved so many other things about you that I was willing to overlook that one. It’s what did me in, isn’t it? I should have addressed things early on when I saw you as you really are.”

  Ramsey stood and skirted the table to give him a clear path to the front door. It was yet another clear invitation for him to leave. She watched his nostrils flare as he took a deep breath. His sculpted lips parted. He released the breath slowly as though settling himself. Ramsey appreciated that. She held onto the back of a chair with one hand to steady herself as he approached. He paused a single beat just before he reached for her. It was the only warning she had and it was too little, too late.

  Jay wrested her hand away from the chair, spun her, and jacked her arm behind her back. He threw his free arm across her chest and tipped her so that he was bearing most of her weight. Only her boot heels touched the floor and they were insufficient to help her hold her ground.

  Jay put his mouth against her ear and whispered, “What did you do, Liz? I know someone’s out there. Is it Dudley? Is he watching us?”

  Ramsey offered no resistance as he pushed her forward. She tried to keep an arch in her back so he wouldn’t feel the hard bulge of her weapon. “You’re mistaken. There’s no one except for Mrs. Oliver’s cat. Why won’t you just go? You have what you came for.”

  “Do I? Do you think money is all I wanted from you?”

  Ramsey’s stomach cramped. A moan escaped her lips before she could clamp them shut.

  Misunderstanding what precipitated Ramsey’s utterance, Jay fractionally eased his grip. “How do I know you won’t call Finch back after I leave and cancel the transaction?”

  Which was precisely her plan, but she wasn’t about to tell him that or give it away. “I wouldn’t do that. You hold all the cards.”

  “I do, don’t I?”

  Ramsey could hear the satisfaction in his voice and knew without seeing that it was accompanied by a smug smile. “So what is the point of what you’re doing now?”

  “The point is that I don’t believe you. I don’t. Drop your phone.”

  She did as directed, wincing just a little when it clattered on the floor. “This is a bad idea, Jay.” They were nearing the front door. “You really need to let me go.”

  “Outside,” he said. “When we’re outside.” He bumped her forward with his hip and then held her up. “What’s that?” He didn’t have a free hand to investigate so he bumped her again with his hip. “Jesus, Liz. Is that a gun? Are you carrying?”

  She didn’t answer. All of her attention was focused on the door. She’d felt the soft vibration under her heels as someone moved across the porch, and for the first time since Jay escorted her into the house, she was well and truly afraid. The Walther had given her confidence, and now its presence provoked nothing but fear. Fear for the police who were surely outside. Fear for herself. Even fear for Jay. A standoff with a weapon could not possibly end well.

  Jay jerked her off her feet when the front and back doors were thrown open almost simultaneously. He released the arm he’d been holding behind her back and then practically threw her at the officer coming through the door.

  Ramsey could not stop her forward momentum. Buddy’s solid body did that. He stumbled backward and she went with him. Jay leapt over the tangle of limbs and was outside before Buddy recovered.

  Ramsey scrambled to her feet, felt behind her for the Walther, and realized it was gone. “He’s got my gun,” she told Buddy.

  Buddy was getting up as Sullivan appeared fr
om the back of the house. “Did you hear that?” he asked Sullivan.

  “Yeah. I did.” He looked at Ramsey. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Jay’s on foot. He doesn’t have a car. He came with me.”

  “Later,” said Sullivan. “Let’s go, Buddy. You take your car; I’ll do the footrace.”

  “Thank God,” Buddy said feelingly. He got his keys and headed out.

  “Secure your house.” Sullivan had nothing else to say to Ramsey as he followed in Buddy’s wake.

  “Be careful,” she called after him. “Don’t let him hurt you.” She wasn’t sure Sullivan heard her or that it mattered if he had. He would do whatever it was he needed to do, and if Jay injured him, shot him, she would own it. Ramsey closed the door, leaned against it, and stayed there until her knees gave way. It was a slow slide to the floor. Ramsey drew her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them. Her eyes felt gritty, not damp. Tears would have been a relief. She didn’t know how long she sat there before she got up, retrieved her phone, and called Mr. Finch to tell him that she’d changed her mind about the transaction.

  42

  Without a clue as to the direction Jay had gone, Sullivan chose the route that offered the least resistance. That meant going down the street rather than heading up it. It seemed reasonable to suppose that would have been Jay’s path as well.

  To cover a wider area, Buddy took his car in the opposite direction. When Sullivan glanced behind him, he caught Buddy’s taillights taking the turn to circle the block. Hitting his stride, Sullivan applied himself to considering what someone with virtually no knowledge of the neighborhood would look for refuge. If Jay hoped to avoid a confrontation, he had little choice except to find a hiding place and stay put, at least until it was dark. The trouble was, dark wasn’t far off.

  Sullivan reached the corner, looked both ways, and decided to circle back toward Ramsey’s house through the alley. When Buddy came around with the car, Sullivan raised an arm above his head and made a circling gesture. Buddy tapped his headlights twice, acknowledging that he understood, and moved on.

  Sullivan had to slow his pace as he headed up the alley. He mostly stayed between the deep tire ruts, but once he had to dodge a fat Tomcat that refused to cede the high ground and ended up stepping in a mud puddle. He swore under his breath as water ran down his pant leg. He also picked up a companion. The Tomcat was following at his heels.

  Sullivan didn’t know if it was dumb luck or if what he’d learned from Ramsey about her ex had helped him make all the right choices. When he turned into Ramsey’s yard from the alley, Jay was trying to break into her garage by throwing his shoulder against the windowless side door.

  Sullivan stopped running and approached with caution. He kept his hand close to the butt of his weapon. “That usually only works in movies,” he said when Jay paused between strikes.

  Jay spun around. Ramsey’s Walther was in his hand.

  “Drop it,” said Sullivan. He observed Jay’s puzzled expression as he looked down at the gun. It was almost as if he’d forgotten it was there. Sullivan didn’t believe it for a moment. “Drop it.”

  “Officer. There’s been—”

  Sullivan drew his weapon. “On the ground. Now. Hands behind your head.” Off to the side, Sullivan heard Ramsey open her kitchen door and then caught her in his peripheral vision as she stepped out. “Go back in, Ramsey.”

  She froze. “I didn’t know…I heard—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly. “Back in.” His eyes never wavered from Jay, but that was immaterial the moment Ramsey unwittingly presented herself as the third leg of a triangle. The sudden appearance of the fat Tomcat was also a precipitating factor for which there was no accounting.

  Ramsey dropped to a crouch to scoop Mr. Peeve into her arms and then flattened herself against the deck as a gun fired. Peeve howled and took flight, leaving Ramsey to bury her face against the composite decking instead of his warm, soft fur.

  She wasn’t certain that the first shot had actually been in her direction, but she knew the second one was not. She recognized it was Jay’s voice she heard, and not a word of what he said could she ever repeat, which was a rather novel revelation since she had a fairly extensive blue vocabulary herself.

  Ramsey got up to her knees. “Sullivan? Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. You?”

  “I’m good.”

  Sullivan wanted to go to her, grab her, shake her, and then hold her so close that he’d feel her heartbeat next to his own. He couldn’t do that, though, and hoped she understood. He walked over to where Jay was sitting on the ground, rocking back against the side door as he cradled his arm. Ramsey’s Walther was lying beside him. Sullivan kicked it out of the way and then secured his Sig.

  Buddy called out from the street side, and when Sullivan gave him the all clear, he came at a jog between the house and the garage. He took in the situation in a single sweep. He saw blood seeping between Jay’s clenched fingers, Ramsey on her hands and knees on the deck, Sullivan standing motionless and virtually without expression, and some big ass cat coming toward them in stealth mode in spite of the fact that he was twice as high as the grass he was trying to hide in.

  “I’ll call for the EMTs,” Buddy said. “Ramsey? You need a bus?”

  “No, Buddy. Jay didn’t hurt me.”

  “Not for lack of trying,” Sullivan said under his breath.

  “What’s that?” asked Buddy as he yanked on his radio. “What’d you say?”

  Pointing to Jay, Sullivan repeated himself and then added, “He was aiming at Ramsey, not at me.”

  “Jeez,” Buddy said. “You sure you’re okay, Ramsey?”

  She had just pulled herself to a stand when she heard Sullivan say that Jay had shot at her. She remembered thinking that he might have, but having it confirmed made her legs wobbly. “I’m sure,” she told Buddy and grabbed the deck rail to make certain she stayed upright.

  Buddy called in for an ambulance, looked to Ramsey for the address and recited it back. He made a report to the chief, offering to take Ramsey’s statement right away, but Bailey needed someone to follow Jay to the hospital and that couldn’t be Sullivan. By the same token, neither could Sullivan take Ramsey’s statement. There would be at least the perception of a conflict.

  Listening to this, Ramsey volunteered to drive to the station and Bailey accepted her offer. He ordered both of his cops to go to the ER, and further ordered Buddy to take Sullivan’s gun.

  “He already gave it to me,” Buddy said into the radio. He finished up the call and clipped the radio back to his shirt. He turned his attention back to Ramsey. “What do you need to do to get going?”

  “Put on my jacket and lock up.”

  “Then do that.”

  “What about Jay’s arm? I have some gauze bandages somewhere.”

  “Nah.” He looked down at Jay who was still clutching his arm and sucking in air between his teeth. “Can’t be more than a flesh wound. The EMTs will be here by the time you put your hands on the bandages.”

  Ramsey looked to Sullivan for confirmation. When he nodded, she started for the door. He called her and she stopped.

  “Probably a good idea for you to take your permit papers with you.”

  “They’re in the glovebox.”

  “You’re okay to drive?”

  “For God’s sake,” said Buddy. “Do you think I can’t see what’s going on here? Don’t just stand there. Go on up there and kiss her.” His gaze swiveled to Ramsey. “Or you come down and kiss him. It’s an agony watching you two pussyfoot around the thing.”

  In the future they would wonder why it took Buddy’s prompting to get them to move where they both wanted to go and why they subsequently were able to ignore his pointed throat clearing when their kiss went on…and on…and on.

  It was actually Jay who was the catalyst for their separation when he asked
Buddy, “Is that Dudley?”

  43

  Ramsey sat in the interview room at the station giving her statement to Officer Butz. She’d observed upon entering that the space had significantly fewer amenities than the room she used for a similar purpose at the Ridge. He smiled politely and offered her a water. She took him up on it. He was gone less than a minute and then it was all business.

  After Butz had information regarding the nature of the relationship between Ramsey and her intruder, he asked for a chronological account of events beginning with tripping the security alarm. She went through it once, then again with Butz peppering her with questions, and finally a third time when she was asked to write her statement and sign it. It wasn’t until she slid the notepad across the table that Butz stopped the tape recorder and the red light on the camera mounted near the ceiling went dark.

  Ramsey leaned back in her chair and regarded Butz expectantly. “Is that it?”

  Butz picked up the notepad and tapped it against the table. “That’s it. Thanks for coming in. If there’s something else, we know where to—” He stopped, interrupted by a light tapping at the door. It opened immediately after the knocking stopped. Chief Bailey poked his head into the room and waved Butz to step out.

  Believing she was finished, Ramsey started to rise. The chief gestured to her to return to her seat. She did, frowning. She sat with her hands folded on the table and waited for someone to return and give her her walking papers. When the door opened again, it wasn’t Butz or the chief who came through. She recognized the officer as one of those on the drug task force who’d been at the Ridge. She nodded politely as he introduced himself as Lieutenant John Goodfellow with the State Police. Ramsey automatically offered her name in response.