Perfect Target, page 15
"I don't know. Look, I shouldn't be telling you this, Beck, but Internal Affairs opened up an investigation into Spalding a few weeks ago."
That news made him sit up straighter. "Why?"
"I can't get into that."
"Does Spalding know he's being investigated?"
"I believe so, which may be why he's trying to build job opportunities outside of the department." Hank paused. "Spalding is smart. He's a good detective when he wants to be."
"When he wants to be," he echoed with a disgusted note in his voice.
"He can do good work. And he has allies among the brass. He may still beat this investigation. Maybe Piper figures into that. If he thinks she knows something about the explosion, and she can help him find a lead, it might get him a win that he needs."
"I don't need him using her to get a win."
"Be careful, Beck."
"I'm not afraid of Spalding."
"I'm not talking about him; I'm referring to Piper. You never get emotionally involved with a case. I've only seen it happen twice with you. Once seven years ago and right now. Both times Piper was involved. This woman has gotten under your skin."
"I'm still going to do my job."
"Are you? What if she's guilty of something?"
"She's not."
"Are you sure? She seems to be right in the middle of everything."
He wished he could say he was positive, but he couldn't go that far. "Getting back to Spalding…"
"He probably wants to meet her away from the office because he doesn't want to look like he's obstructing your investigation."
"Which is exactly what he's doing."
"It's possible this works in your favor. He might tell Piper something you don't already know."
"Tell me what?" Piper asked.
He jumped to his feet at the sound of her voice. "I didn't see you there."
"I just got here." She came into the office holding a plate of brownies. "I have brownies and I already tried one. They're delicious, with extra chocolate chips. Sandra is bringing you some milk," she added. "Apparently, your love of milk is well-known."
"It is. These look great." He took the plate from her hands and put it on the desk.
"What do you think Spalding is going to tell me?" Piper repeated, her gaze moving between Hank and himself.
"We don't know," he replied. "But it might be worth finding out."
She gave him a questioning look. "So, you want me to meet him then?"
"Yes." He wished he felt more certain. Maybe his emotional involvement with Piper was preventing him from seeing things as clearly as he needed to. His concern for her safety was overriding everything else.
"Then I'll do it. Is there something else?" she asked.
"Hank just told me that Spalding has been doing some private security jobs for John Nicholson."
Surprise widened her eyes. "Was he at the party last night?"
"We don't know if he was there or if he just organized security. Was Nicholson on the yacht with you seven years ago?"
"No."
Her answer was deflating. "Damn, I was hoping to make a connection between Nicholson and Spalding back then."
"I don't see that connection, but if Spalding works on the side for Nicholson, maybe he also worked for Larry. Nicholson and Larry were friends too. They went to college together."
His brows drew together at that piece of information. "You're telling me that Larry went to school with both Nicholson and with Sam Trent?"
She nodded. "I thought you knew that."
"I haven't been the one digging into Larry's past." He was annoyed that he might have missed a clue because he was staying so close to Piper.
"Well, Larry and John were tight, and if Nicholson knew Spalding was for hire, then Larry would know that, too." She paused. "But that doesn't get us closer to finding out why Spalding wants to talk to me. It doesn't feel like it would be on behalf of John Nicholson because I talked to him last night. If he wanted information from me about Larry's death, why wouldn't he have just asked? And to be honest, while he expressed sadness for Larry and his family, it was business as usual with him."
"Nicholson might not have wanted to get into a conversation with you about Larry," he said. "Using Spalding to get information or deliver a message would be less messy."
"I suppose."
Their conversation was interrupted by Sandra, who came in with a glass of milk.
He gave her a caring smile as she handed it to him. "You never forget, do you?"
"That you love milk? No. Now, why isn't anyone eating my brownies?"
"We got distracted." He took a long drink of the milk. "Icy cold, just the way I like it. Do you mind if I take a brownie to go? Piper and I need to get on the road."
"I'll get you a baggie," Sandra said, grabbing the plate and heading back into the kitchen.
"Hey, I wanted one of those," Hank protested.
"You'll have one after dinner," Sandra returned. "You don't need more than one today."
"Tough woman," Hank muttered.
Beck grinned. "And you love her."
"I do. Look, Beck, I'll talk to a few people and see what else I can find out."
"I'd appreciate that." He gave Sandra a smile as she returned with a baggie of brownies. "And thanks for these."
"Come by when you're not on a case, and I'll make you my enchiladas," she said. "You, too, Piper."
"It was nice to meet you," Piper said.
Sandra disappeared down the hall as Hank walked them to the front door.
"Be careful," Hank said. "If Spalding is feeling the heat and is on the precipice of losing his career, who knows what he might do for money and power?"
Chapter Sixteen
Hank's words hung in Beck's head as he drove Piper to the Santa Monica Pier. He liked that Spalding was finally getting called up by Internal Affairs, but he didn't like his connection to Nicholson, or his desire to talk to Piper. But she wouldn't be alone. He would be with her. He'd texted Flynn, and he and Wyatt were also heading to the pier for backup. He doubted Spalding would try to hurt Piper. He wasn't one to get his own hands dirty. If Spalding wanted to take Piper out, he'd hire someone else to do it and it wouldn't be in a crowded location.
"Why did Hank say that Spalding might be losing his career?" Piper asked.
"Apparently, Internal Affairs is looking into some of his work. Hank didn't give me details. He just suggested that Spalding might be looking for a win and getting information out of you that could solve the murder of a US senator could help him do that."
"Well, that won't happen, because I don’t know anything. And I don't want to help him get a win. I hate him."
He could hear the venom in her voice. "I believe you, and I don't blame you."
"Why would he think I'd be cooperative after the way he buried my claims?"
"It might not be about your cooperation. He may threaten you with the possibility of being charged in Larry Brixton's death."
"Can he do that without the FBI?"
"No, but he won't think that you know that. He might believe intimidation will get you to talk."
"About what?"
"I don't know, but there sure are a lot of people who seem to think your last conversation with Larry is important."
"But it's not."
"Or it is, and we don't know why. It's interesting to me that Spalding is tied to Nicholson, especially since you were run off the road leaving Nicholson's house."
"It was certainly no secret that I'd be there. I was hired for that job two weeks ago." She blew out a breath. "All this speculating is pointless. I just need to talk to the detective and hear what he has to say." She paused. "He won't talk to me if you're there, Beck."
"No, he won't. I'm going to let you meet him on your own, but I will be very close by and so will two of my agents. I'll give you a few minutes on your own and then I'll confront both of you. I'll make it look like I followed you to the pier. I'll demand to know why he's getting involved in a case that doesn't belong to him. I'll act like I'm suspicious of you, too, so don't take what I say at face value."
"This sounds like a scene in a TV show. What do you want me to try to find out?"
"Whatever you can. Maybe bring up Nicholson's name. Ask him why they're working together."
"Will that make him nervous that I know that?"
"We'll see." He paused at the tension in her gaze. "You don't have to do any of this, Piper."
"I don't?" she challenged.
"No."
"But he'll come looking for me."
"I can tell him that I intercepted his call and that he is to have no more contact with you."
She thought for a long moment. "As much as I don't want to see his ugly face and listen to his condescending voice, you said this might be an opportunity, and I think you're right. I'll do it. I'll see what I can find out. It's just a conversation."
He was impressed with her decision, although he wasn't sure it was the right one. But he needed to get back to thinking like an agent. Piper had a chance to find out what Spalding was up to, and that could be important.
The traffic thickened as he got near the pier, which was an iconic symbol of the southern California beach scene. Set above a wide expanse of sand, the long pier housed an amusement park with a Ferris Wheel as well as cafes, touristy shops, and an arcade. It was a Sunday afternoon with the temps in the low eighties and the beach area was packed with sunbathers. There were plenty of people in the water as well. Parking was tight, but upon showing his badge to the parking attendant, he was allowed to park in a spot reserved for police vehicles.
"Must be nice to get special privileges," Piper commented,
"Well, we are on official business."
"If we weren't, you wouldn't have shown your badge?"
"Nope. I would have parked wherever I could find a spot."
"That seems somewhat unbelievable. In my business, people use whatever they can to get ahead."
"Is that the bakery business?" he teased.
She made a small face at him. "No. I was referring to the film industry. Pastry chefs play by the rules. Those rules are how you make the perfect dessert."
"Where did you learn the rules?" he asked curiously. "Are you self-taught?"
"No, I lived in Italy for almost a year. I took courses there. When I returned to the States, I worked for a pastry chef for another year before deciding to go out on my own. All that seems like a long time ago now. I thought I was going to make my life more safe, more normal, by becoming a pastry chef. But look where I am—back in trouble."
"Hopefully, not for much longer." He took out his phone and texted Flynn. A moment later, he got an answer. "Flynn is sitting on a bench in front of the pier. He has eyes on Spalding. Wyatt is by the arcade."
"This is like a movie," she muttered.
"Probably not that dramatic. They're just backing us up."
She gave him a concerned look. "But you're worried enough to get backup."
"I'm just covering all the bases. I don't think anything will happen, I want to be ready, and I don't want to underestimate Spalding."
"Okay, let's get this over with."
They got out of the car and walked up the hill leading from the parking lot to the pier. The area was packed with locals and tourists enjoying a warm afternoon at the beach. With every step, he scanned the scene for potential problems. It made no sense to go after Piper at this location, but it also didn't make sense that Spalding wanted to meet her here. Hopefully, Spalding had just wanted the cover of a crowd for this meet.
He slowed his steps, drawing her behind a group of people eating churros and talking about what rides to go on. "Spalding is by the rail." The detective looked like any other middle-aged man today, wearing khakis and a polo shirt.
"I see him."
"I'll give you five minutes before I show up."
"I have a feeling it's going to be a long five minutes." She squared her shoulders and then walked past the family in front of them and across the pavement to the pier. She went up the steps and walked over to the rail.
His heart began to race as the distance increased between them. He told himself it was going to be fine. He just wished he believed it.
The detective who she'd thought would save her seven years ago looked even less like a hero now. Spalding had gained at least fifteen pounds since Piper had seen him, had lost some hair, and looked tired and stressed. He stiffened when he saw her but made no effort to move toward her. She was fine with that. She didn't want any sudden, unexpected moves. She just wanted a conversation that would help her more than it helped him.
She didn't know what the other FBI agents looked like, but a tall man on his phone by the entrance to the arcade looked like a possibility. There were plenty of eyes on her. She just needed to keep breathing and get this over with as quickly as possible.
She made her way to the rail, leaving a few feet between them.
"Ms. Nolan," he said with a nod.
"What do you want, Detective?"
"I need to know what Senator Brixton said to you before he died."
"I already gave my statement to the FBI," she replied. "They told me they're in charge of this case."
"I don't believe your statement included everything you know about the senator."
"Why would you say that?"
"I have a lot of friends in Hollywood, Ms. Nolan. They think you had a grudge against Senator Brixton, that you wanted to hurt him, ruin him."
A shiver ran down her spine. Was he guessing or did he know about her group? She tried to keep her expression neutral. "I can't imagine who would tell you that. It's not true. I loved Larry. He was like a father to me. His death was tragic."
"And they said you were a good actress," he scoffed.
"Who's they? Who are your friends who claim to know so much about me?"
"That's not important. You've crossed some dangerous people, Ms. Nolan."
"Like John Nicholson? Is he the one who paid you off seven years ago? Or was that someone else? Was it Larry Brixton or Ethan Cawley?" She was probably giving him too much, but she couldn't stop. "Which one of your cops took the photo of me on the docks and sold it to the press?"
"I told you back then no one would believe a drunk girl."
"I'm not drunk now."
"Was Brixton helping you get payback?" he asked.
She stared at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
His words sent a wave of anxiety through her. "I don't know what you're talking about. You said you could help me. Say it, or I'm leaving."
"I came here to give you a warning. Back off, or you'll end up like Brixton."
"That sounds like a threat," Beck said, interrupting their conversation.
Spalding jumped. He had been so caught up in trying to make her afraid of him, he hadn't seen Beck approach. "What are you doing here, Murray?"
"Following one of my witnesses. Why are you here?"
"I just wanted to clarify her statement from the day of the explosion."
"You don't care about verifying witness statements. In fact, you change them when they don't fit your investigation. Isn't that true?"
Spalding stiffened at Beck's words. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Why did you lie about what happened seven years ago? Ms. Nolan told you she was assaulted, but you didn't put that in the report."
"She had no evidence. It was he said/she said."
"It was part of her statement, which you changed. You covered up for someone, and I'm guessing it was the person who attacked her."
"You can guess all you want, but there's no proof." Spalding's face turned red with anger. "You always thought you were a hotshot."
"And you always underestimated me," Beck returned. "I will find out what's going on and how you're involved. I won't stop until I do."
While Piper appreciated Beck's hard stance against Spalding, his intense words worried her. He'd gone off script. He'd made this personal. But he had also hit a nerve. The detective had turned white, his eyes filling with anger but also with fear.
"I'm a good cop, one of the best," Spalding said. "And you can't prove a damn thing." He turned toward the street, as if he were looking for someone.
Beck followed Spalding's gaze, then rushed toward her, throwing her to the ground as a blast rocked the air.
The breath flew out of her as his weight came down on hers, and she instinctively tried to move.
"Don't," he said as another shot rang out. "Stay down."
Beck pulled out his gun as he moved off her and peered through the rail.
She didn't know where she would go if she could move. People were running and screaming. There was a stampede down the pier. At least she had the protection of the rail, but it wasn't much. The gunshots had stopped. But for how long?
Beck suddenly swore, then crept toward a man lying on the ground.
She lifted her head, her jaw falling open as she saw Spalding flat on his back, blood streaming from a bullet hole in his neck. He was gasping for breath.
And then the man who'd been standing in front of the arcade came toward them, a gun in his hand. "You two okay?" he asked.
"We're fine, Wyatt," Beck said, as he pulled off his T-shirt and pressed it against Spalding's neck, trying to stem the flow of blood.
Another man came running toward them. She didn't know if he was friend or foe, but neither Beck nor Wyatt seemed concerned.
"Shooter was on the roof across the street," the man said. "I called it in." His words were made irrelevant by the police cars responding and cops running toward them.
"Stay with me," Beck ordered Spalding.
She could see the detective gasping for breath.
"Not me," he said. "Her. Did everything…"
"What did you do?" Beck demanded. "Who were you working for?"
Spalding didn't answer. He couldn't. He was dead.
She drew in a breath as she sat up, resting her back against the railing that had saved her life. Although, it was really Beck's quick actions that had done that. He'd moved a split second before the gun went off.
Beck turned toward her, his worried gaze seeking hers. "Are you all right, Piper?"
