Chapter Twenty-Three
Derek walked into his apartment and flipped on the lights. He set down the bottle of wine he’d picked up on the drive home and unstrapped his shoulder holster, laying it on the kitchen table. After finally wrapping up the paperwork and briefings pertaining to the Modesto case, he looked forward to a couple of much-needed days off. As soon as he took a shower and changed out of his wrinkled work clothes, he planned on dragging Ginger out of her apartment and into his bed. He’d see to her pleasure and then he’d damn well sleep for at least ten straight hours.
Tomorrow night, when he felt semi-human, he planned on taking Ginger out on an actual date. She’d been patient with his demanding work schedule. Almost too patient, as if she didn’t expect anything from him. That shit would come to an end this weekend. He wanted Ginger to expect everything from him.
Derek refused to put off their conversation about the stolen money any longer. She’d been on the verge of telling him as they’d lain in bed together a few days ago, he was sure of it, but she’d balked at the last minute. Although he’d wanted to push, she’d already looked so damn vulnerable after his confession that he’d researched her past, Derek didn’t have the heart. This weekend, he would come clean that he already knew. And there would no longer be any secrets between them. He wouldn’t allow it to fester. Not when she meant so much to him.
Additionally, Derek hated having the loose end. So he’d tied it up. As long as Ginger remained in possession of the money, her safety would be in question. It made him crazed to think what could happen if a shady character such as Haywood Devon learned of her whereabouts. But with the help of his contact in Nashville and the national criminal database, Derek had found something he could use to put Devon behind bars for a long time, if not for good.
It had been his experience that, in most criminal enterprises, members tended to branch out when the well dried up. Which is exactly what happened a few years back for Devon when his then-partner left Nashville in search of greener pastures.
Thankfully, the partner in question had branched out to Chicago, bringing a wealth of information about his shady Nashville past, including valuable dirt on Devon. All Derek had to do was make him talk—something he planned to get right on now that they’d busted up Modesto’s gang ring.
Derek caught Ginger’s scent and turned, half expecting to find her waiting for him. Instead, he saw a lacquered box, decorated with one of Ginger’s trademark designs, complete with a metal fastening where he could insert a lock. A gun box. Picking it up, he laughed at some of the magazine and newspaper headlines she’d interspersed with pictures of Dirty Harry and John Wayne.
Dirty mouth? Clean it up!
Guns don’t kill people, zombies kill people.
Mean people duck.
Opening the lid, Derek found a note with his name on it, next to a smiley face. Positive he was grinning like a jackass, he unfolded the paper.
Derek,
There is something I need to take care of. Try not to worry.
Please check in on Willa.
I’ll be back before you have a chance to miss me.
Ginger xo
Smile fading, a heavy sense of dread settled in the pit of Derek’s stomach.
Okay. Okay, relax. She probably just went to the store.
Snatching his phone off the counter, he pressed the speed dial for Ginger’s cell. It went straight to voice mail. He swallowed a curse.
Trying valiantly to calm his mounting panic, Derek flung open his apartment door and strode down the hallway. Maybe he’d caught her before she left. Please let him have caught her. He took the stairs three at a time, reaching the third floor and her apartment in seconds. The hollow sound of his fist rapping against her door echoed through his skull.
Within seconds, he heard footsteps and the sound of the deadbolt lock turning. His head dropped forward, body deflating with relief. He would shake some sense into Ginger the second the door opened and beg her never to scare him like this again. Bracing his hands on either side of the door, Derek attempted to dial back his panic. He didn’t want to start the weekend off by terrifying her.
“Lieutenant. What brings you by this fine evening?”
Derek’s head shot up. Patty, the dispatch operator, stood in the doorway dressed in a fuzzy orange robe and slippers, holding a gossip magazine in her hands. It took him a moment to process her appearance in Ginger’s apartment.
“What are you doing here? Where is Ginger?”
“It’s wonderful to see you, too.”
“Patty, answer me now.”
She seemed to realize then that something serious was afoot, because her demeanor went from teasing to businesslike. “I don’t know where Ginger is. She called and asked me to hang out here until Willa got home from the dance, and to stay the night. She said I owed her for that stunt I pulled, sending her to the hospital thinking you’d been shot.”
Derek tried to breathe, but the air lodged in his chest. “How long have you been here?”
“She left about four hours ago.”
“Jesus.”
“Is everything okay, Derek?”
“Did she leave you Willa’s number?”
Patty didn’t take the time to answer, just ducked back in the apartment and returned a moment later holding a slip of paper with Ginger’s handwriting on it. It listed his and Willa’s numbers along with Lenny’s and a short, vague note for Willa, much like his own.
He punched Willa’s number in his phone. When she answered, the blast of dance music in the background nearly drowned her voice out completely.
“Where is Ginger?” he demanded. “Did she tell you where she was going?”
“Derek? Wait, hold on. Let me go outside so I can actually hear you.”
By the time she came back on the line, Derek’s patience had reached a breaking point. His voice reflected the strain. “Willa, think. Do you have any idea where your sister might have gone?”
His tone seemed to give her pause. “No. Isn’t she at home?”
Derek paced the hallway like a caged animal. “She’s not here. She left me a note saying she had something important to do.”
Willa didn’t speak for a long moment. “Oh God.”
Derek froze, his hand tightening on the phone. “What, goddammit?”
“I can’t believe this. I really f*cked up.”
“Explain. Now.”
She dragged in a gulp of breath. “Earlier this week, I was upset over something. I couldn’t find Ginger. She wouldn’t answer her phone. So I…I called our mother.”
Derek’s vision blurred around the edges.
“I called her house phone,” Willa said quickly. “There’s no caller ID. She doesn’t know we’re in Chicago.”
Relief threatened to swamp him, but there had to be more. He could feel the ax above his head, waiting to drop. “Then how exactly did you f*ck up, Willa?”
Willa’s voice shook as she rambled out the story. “My mother told me Ginger stole some money from her. The night we left. Ginger never told me, but it makes total sense now. Why she snuck me out in the middle of the night.”
Derek left behind a gaping Patty, rushing toward his apartment. “And someone back home wants the money back. Is that what your mother told you?”
“Yes,” Willa whispered. “Derek, my sister’s not a thief. You don’t know what it was like—”
He cut her off, already knowing the answer to his question. “Where. Is. Ginger?”
“I think she’s on her way to Nashville. I know her. Just before I left for the dance, she told me she was going to do the right thing. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but it’s the money. It has to be.” Willa choked on a sob. “Oh God, she doesn’t know what’s waiting for her down there.”
“Shit!” Derek hung up and redialed Ginger’s number. He’d planned for every eventuality except Ginger’s willfulness. She’d been the wild card all along. And now his carefully laid plan was blowing up in his face. His fist slammed against the wall as he waited for the beep. “Ginger, you turn the goddamn car around right now or I’m coming after you. Call me back immediately.”
He needed to move. The drive from Chicago to Nashville would take about eight hours and she was already halfway there. Derek hung up the call and grabbed his gun and car keys. Ginger wouldn’t turn the car around. He knew it for a fact.
He crumpled the note in his fist and threw it against the wall. Try not to worry? She would be a target the moment she entered Nashville. Valerie knew Ginger had the money. By now, that information had gotten back to Haywood Devon. And Ginger thought she could waltz back into the picture and return what she’d stolen without any consequences?
Re-holstering his gun, Derek hit redial on his cell and waited once more for the beep, closing his eyes at the sound of Ginger’s soft drawl. God, he wanted her safe in his arms so bad it physically pained him.
“Baby, listen to me. There are things you don’t know. You are walking into a very dangerous situation. Pull over and wait for me, please.” He swallowed. “Ginger, I need you. Don’t do this.”
Derek didn’t wait for her to call back, knowing she wouldn’t anyway. He took two quick steps toward his desk and picked up the file he’d been building on Haywood Devon over the past week, then slammed out of his apartment.
If he broke the speed limit and got lucky with traffic, he would be in Nashville by morning. Every hour would be critical if he had a shot in hell of saving Ginger.