“He’s coming to.” Agent Bradley leaned over the man in the hospital bed. “Robert, wake up.”
Grant stood back, letting Melissa be the first face the hitman saw. Perhaps it would lull him into a false sense of security to see a pretty face as he swam back to consciousness.
“That’s right. Open your eyes,” Melissa coaxed with a fake smile curving her lips. “You’re going to be all right. Come on, wake up and let the doctor know how you’re feeling.”
The man’s eyes fixed on Melissa as she leaned close to his face. The messy bun she’d worn all day had slipped loose. The coppery strands of her hair fell over her shoulders, giving her a softer, gentler look.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Melissa.”
He blinked, and his lips moved. “Redhead.”
She chuckled. “That’s right. I’m a redhead.” She leaned back, snagged the doctor’s arm and drew him forward. “This is Dr. Stillwell. He’d like to check you over and ask you some questions.”
Robert “Blade” Martin shifted his gaze to the doctor.
Dr. Stillwell examined him, shining a light into his eyes, having him follow his finger as he moved it back and forth, then asking him questions he could easily answer. Once he finished his exam, he stepped back and turned to Melissa. “He’s all yours.”
Melissa’s smile straightened into a flat line. “Robert Martin, I’m Special Agent Bradley. You’re under arrest for murder. You have the right to remain silent—” She got halfway through her recitation of the Miranda Rights when Robert held up his hand.
“Wait. Murder? I didn’t murder anyone. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Special Agent Avery Hart and the driver of the vehicle. You’re also being charged with the murders of three women over the past week and a half.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait. Back up a minute. You got the wrong guy.”
“You were apprehended last night after running the car carrying Agent Hart and her driver off the road, in an attempt to kill her.”
“That was an accident. I don’t know anything about three women. I wasn’t even in Texas over the past week and a half. I didn’t get here until the night before last. I was in Miami. Unless those women were murdered in Miami, you got the wrong guy.”
Grant stood back in the shadows. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.
The hitman had more or less admitted to the attempt to run them off the road, but he was adamant he hadn’t killed the other women.
Grant’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and read a text from Swede.
Swede: Facial recognition scan in Miami International Airport showed Robert Martin entering two days ago and leaving DFW later that night. Dark web reported he’d been seen at one of Miami’s clubs, the Wharf, every night for four nights straight before that.
Grant frowned. “He didn’t kill those women,” he said to Sheriff Taylor. “He wasn’t in the state when they were taken.”
“What he said,” Robert called out. “I didn’t kill three women. And I had no intention of killing that agent who screwed me out of a job.”
“Talk to the judge,” Melissa said. “Is there another former employee of the Miami Elite gunning for Agent Hart or anyone who looks like her?”
“How would I know? I don’t keep in touch with any of them. They all scattered like rats on a sinking ship.”
Melissa met Grant’s gaze.
He gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head and mouthed the words, “Not him.”
She stepped away from the bed and strode for the door. “Sheriff, he’s all yours. He knows what he did.”
Sheriff Taylor completed reciting the Miranda Rights as Melissa and Grant left the room.
Grant glanced at the clock on his phone. Avery and Bree had been gone for twenty minutes. The distance to TJs should have taken no more than five minutes, to and from. Swinging by for a wellness check on Mr. Logsdon might have added another five minutes.
“Shouldn’t Bree and Avery be back by now?” Melissa voiced what Grant had been thinking.
“Yes.” He called her phone. It rang four times before going to voicemail. His gut tightened, a cold sense of dread blanketing him. “She’s not answering.”
