Ghost Walking (A Maggie York Paranormal Mystery Book 1) Page 25

  Then Josh stepped out of the shadows and caught her. “What’s wrong? What happened out there?”

  She gripped his arms, mentally regrouping. “It’s Hurst. He’s acting like he’s warning me, and I recalled what Selena said about putting someone else in danger. I thought it was you. But if Coridan didn’t lure me here to kill one of us, then who? Where didn’t he want us to be?”

  They looked at one another and said the name together. “Harry.”

  As they leaped into Josh’s truck, he touched his earwig and responded to a question from the SWAT team. “Change of plans,” he said into his mic. “We’re headed for the hospital. We think he’s after my brother.”

  He gave them the name and location, responded to another inquiry, and finally ripped the earwig off. “They ask too many questions I can’t answer.” He threw the equipment on the backseat. “We just had a fatal malfunction.”

  While Josh zigzagged across town, muttering a steady stream of invectives and orders toward other drivers, Maggie clutched the seat. She kept a close eye on Hurst’s shadowy form to confirm they were on the right track, but he continued to streak toward the hospital. Coridan must have figured it out, heard about the snipers, or the backup team. But why go after Harry? Anger, revenge against her or Josh? Did he need the hit money to get out of town? Hell, it didn’t matter. She’d find out when they caught him.

  When the hospital came into view, the truck screeched to a halt. Josh leaped out and ran for the front door. Hurst’s ball of light dropped in front of Maggie, flashing a brilliant white, and flowed toward the corner of the building.

  “I’m following Hurst,” she yelled just before Josh disappeared inside.

  With her SIG already in her hand, she followed the white light, found a back door open, and slipped inside. She was in a silent, empty stairwell. Shifting her gun into a two-handed firing position, she started up the stairs toward Carolyn Brandt’s room on the third floor, stepping quietly and staying close to the wall. She watched and listened for movement but reached the midpoint to the second level without incident.

  A muffled volley of gunshots came from somewhere above her. Oh, God. Were they too late? She sprang up the stairs.

  A door banged open. Footsteps clattered. She and Coridan spotted each other at the same moment. Maggie fired and flattened against the wall. A bullet whizzed past her. Coridan’s heavy footsteps swiftly retreated upward.

  A mixture of rage and fear for Harry drove her up the stairs two at a time. Two leaps from the third floor, she halted as Josh burst into the stairwell.

  “He’s up there.” She jerked her head toward the upper floors.

  She took a second glance at Josh, attempting to read what had happened to Harry, but his eyes were hooded, intent on the hunt. Unreadable. She’d leave it for later.

  Coridan’s footsteps abruptly stopped. A deadly silence hung over the stairwell. Either Coridan was waiting—listening as intently as they were—or he had slipped onto one of the upper levels. There were twelve in all with an extra cutback landing between each floor. Nine floors to go. Slow going to clear each one.

  Josh motioned for her to take the other side of the stairs, and they started up, pausing at each landing to check if the next flight was clear. Level four brought a welcome surprise. The stairwell doors locked automatically. Coridan couldn’t get back inside. Which meant he was headed for the roof. Or couched on one of the landings.

  They moved as quickly as they dared. Shots were fired just short of level seven, chipping the wall a few inches from Maggie’s head. She and Josh both returned fire, and then the stairwell grew quiet again. Maggie thought she heard quiet movement, but the metal and concrete stairwell didn’t produce squeaks like wood structures might. After a moment, they moved upward again.

  Just short of level ten, Maggie spotted Coridan again. She fired at his disappearing figure but was forced to retreat to the last landing when he peppered them with return fire. The repeated gunfire raised a deafening echo in the stairwell. Where the hell was their backup?

  Coridan finally broke the standoff—probably to reload—and his steps pounded rapidly upward. He was making a run for the roof, and Josh raced after him. Maggie paused just long enough to slip in a new magazine. She’d brought two spares for her SIG and had already used one. Coridan probably had about the same. He wouldn’t have come prepared for extended resistance.

  This couldn’t go on indefinitely. And unless he had a helicopter waiting or planned to jump off the building, Coridan was headed nowhere.

  By the time she and Josh neared the top, she finally heard a loud noise from below. The SWAT team was on the way up. Maggie leaped up the last few steps. She had a much different ending in mind than a bloody takedown.

  Josh pointed to the steps on the last flight. Splatters of blood. One of them had winged Coridan in the last exchange. When Josh opened the door to the roof, he jumped backward as Coridan sprayed the entrance with bullets. Maggie eased forward and cracked it open again, staying well off to the side.

  “Coridan, you’re stuck up here. And SWAT is climbing the stairs right behind me. This isn’t going to end well for you, unless we come up with an alternative.” When he didn’t respond, she tried again. “Ray, are you listening?”

  “You got a suggestion, York?”

  “There are people we want more than you. Might be some room for accommodation.”

  “You kidding me?” His laugh was harsh. “Come on, Maggie, get real. There’s no deals for a dirty cop. You willing to overlook my transgressions and let me go? Anything else is a death sentence for a cop in prison.”

  Maggie’s temper flared. “On a cold day in hell. Whether it’s old age or lethal injection, you’re going to die in prison.” Josh touched her shoulder, and she caught herself. “But I want Castile. Enough to argue for some concessions. A protected wing in a federal prison would be a good deal for you.”

  Josh moved to the head of the stairs to talk with the arriving SWAT team. It sounded like they were arguing, and she heard the commander say, “That’s a dirty cop out there. Maybe a cop killer.”

  “Think about it, Coridan, while I try to keep SWAT from filling you full of holes.” Maggie turned and smiled grimly at the SWAT leader. “Doesn’t hurt to remind him what you guys can do.”

  “What’s the situation?” the commander asked curtly.

  “He’s alone. I suspect he’s running out of ammo. He’s a cold-blooded killer, but he’s also practical, and he’s talking. I think he’ll take a deal, and he’s holding a lot of information on Bullet Castile that we desperately need.”

  “You sure you’re not being easy on a former partner?”

  Maggie clenched her jaw. She wanted to punch his face, but it was a fair question. She bit off her words. “I’d be tempted to shoot him myself, if we didn’t need him to bring down an even bigger fish.”

  The commander crossed his arms. “We’ll wait, but I’m sending snipers into the surrounding buildings. We’ll be ready to end this if anything changes or whenever you’ve had enough.”

  She nodded and returned to the door. “Hey, Coridan, don’t you bleed out on me. You made up your mind yet? SWAT wants to shoot you.”

  “Nothing but a scratch, Maggie. But I’m touched by your concern. What kind of guarantees do I get?”

  “Not a one. Except my promise I’ll try to deliver if you help us nail Castile.” She didn’t expect him to go for vague promises, but she had to open negotiations with plenty of room to spare.

  While Coridan haggled over details—Geez, you would have thought he was a lawyer—and Maggie relayed demands back and forth on the phone between the DA’s office and her former partner on the roof, she spotted a ball of swirling shadows hovering near the hospital’s rooftop helipad. What was Hurst waiting for? Did he need to see the capture or hear a confession?

  “Hey, Coridan, as an act of good faith, showing your willingness to cooperate, tell me why you shot Hurst and his girl.”

  “
Oh, no, Maggie. I can’t admit to anything, not until the DA’s signature is on the line. But I’ll say this—I never did anything I wasn’t paid for. If I had to guess what happened that night, I’d say Hurst knew more than he should, and the girl was just there.”

  “Geez, Coridan. That’s cold.” Not a very satisfying answer, but hopefully Hurst had heard what he needed to hear.

  It took another half hour of negotiating, and two more calls to the District Attorney’s Office, but Coridan finally kicked both his guns across to her and lay spread-eagled on the concrete surface. SWAT swarmed onto the roof and secured him. One pistol was empty, the other held one last bullet. Coincidence or insurance?

  As SWAT headed down the stairs with Coridan in custody, Maggie finally asked Josh about Harry.

  His grim expression widened into a grin. “He’s fine. All the gunfire you heard came from him. As I ran past the front desk, I had them buzz him. He woke, saw Coridan slip through a connecting door, and didn’t hesitate.” Josh shook his head. “Of course, every shot missed by a mile, and we were lucky no one else was injured, but in the poor lighting Coridan must have thought he’d walked into a trap. I’d like to stop and reassure Mom and Harry before we head to the station. SWAT will walk Coridan through booking for us.”

  “I’ll join you in a minute. I have something else I need to do.” She gestured vaguely toward the roof exit. Josh lifted a brow as she moved toward the door. “Someone’s still hanging around that I need to, um, thank or maybe, say good-bye.”

  Josh hesitated, then nodded. “Extend my thanks too.” He descended the stairs.

  Maggie stepped outside. As she’d expected, the ghostly form hovered on the roof, floating, no longer distinct.

  She scuffled a foot on the rough surface. “I guess this is it, Bobby. With your help, Josh’s brother is safe and your killer’s in custody. I guess you heard his excuse for killing you. Sorry, it was so lame.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I can’t say I’m thrilled with this new ability, but if I have to deal with ghosts, I’m glad you were the fist.” Aw, hell, this was awkward. “Thanks. You taught me a lot. And you really aren’t a bad guy.”

  The ghostly light brightened for a moment, then faded to nothing. Maggie left without looking back.

  * * *

  Over an hour later, Captain Jenson, Josh, and Maggie stood in the observation room of District 13 and watched Coridan sitting in Interrogation on the other side of the one-way mirror. He was in handcuffs, an officer stood next to the door, but he seemed perfectly at ease. His left arm was bandaged where he’d caught a bullet just above the elbow. He’d lost blood but not enough to require hospitalization. He’d probably live a long life inside some federal penitentiary.

  Maggie felt a twinge of regret. Not for Coridan or what had happened to him…but for the better man she had thought he was.

  “Cool SOB, isn’t he?” Jenson growled.

  “Well, is somebody going in there and wrap this up?” Maggie asked.

  “Sorry, but it can’t be you.” The captain eyed her as if she might protest. “You’re not on active status. We have to do this one by the book. Detective Brandt, it’s your show.”

  Maggie shrugged as Josh left the room. Interrogating Coridan would have been a pleasure, but she’d prepared herself for Jenson’s decision. Coridan’s testimony was too important. The captain couldn’t risk opening loopholes that would allow the courts to find his confessions inadmissible. The sound of a door opening over the sound system brought her attention back to the mirror.

  The prisoner looked up as Josh entered. “Where’s Maggie?”

  Josh pulled up a chair, flipped the recorder switch, and introduced himself and the suspect. “You’ve been read your rights, Detective Coridan?”

  “Twice. You can spare me a third recitation. The DA was already in to hammer out a deal. I’m willing to tell you anything I know.” He threw a questioning look toward the mirror. “Is Maggie in there? I want her to know it was never personal.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear that,” Josh said, without blinking. “Let’s start with your employer’s name.”

  Coridan frowned and craned his neck toward the one-way window again. “I really need her to understand. Maggie? Maggie, are you in there? The swamp, the intrusion at your apartment. I only meant to scare you. Just get you to back off. I couldn’t risk having you learn the truth, but I never wanted it to come down to you or me. I went out of my way to avoid it.” He looked back at Josh. “Can she hear me?”

  Josh shrugged. “Does it matter? I doubt if she believes you. You weren’t trying to scare her, not if you know her very well. You tried to smear her. Keep her off the force. Hoping anything she might say would be discounted. And while you may not have shot her, you stood by while others tried. Why did Castile target her?”

  Maggie stiffened. Hearing someone talk about killing her was eerie. She sensed Captain Jenson glance her way, but she kept her eyes straightforward. She’d rather have this part of the interrogation over, but she held her breath waiting for the answer.

  Coridan sighed. “One of my few mistakes. If she hadn’t seen that damned bullet at the Otley scene, things would have been different. But she did, and I knew it would match my gun. I had to dispose of it. And I told Castile she’d eventually figure it out.”

  But I might not, Maggie thought. Not if you and Castile hadn’t tried so hard to cover it up.

  “So why didn’t you take the contract yourself?”

  “Castile didn’t offer it to me. He thought killing a cop was too risky, that I might be exposed. I wasn’t considered expendable. He offered a very good price to Pardson instead.”

  Josh’s smile was harsh. “So you weren’t protecting your partner. You simply don’t kill if you aren’t being paid.”

  Despite the grim reality, Maggie nearly laughed. Thanks, Josh, for calling him on it.

  Coridan wasn’t amused. He bristled, his jaw hardened. “You just don’t understand. I did her a favor.” But he didn’t look at the mirror again.

  “If you’re through trying to convince us what a nice guy you are, let’s get back to who paid the bills.”

  Regaining his composure, Coridan leaned back and a twinge of humor flickered across his face. “Other than the PD, I assume. Paul Castile. I’ve worked for him on special assignments for about nine years.”

  “What kind of special assignments?”

  “A variety. Mostly removal of troublesome people and evidence that needed to disappear.”

  “You killed people for him,” Josh said bluntly.

  Coridan’s expression never changed. “That’s right. Eight, I believe. And well paid for each.”

  Hearing his cold, emotionless admission, Maggie shifted her shoulders. It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d sifted through case details and had her back on more than one occasion. Yet none of that was inconsistent with being a hired assassin.

  Josh looked at him from under his brows. “What about Harry Brandt? Would he have been number nine?”

  “Different employer. That’s an out-of-state contract.”

  “Big Mike, you mean. And you picked it up after Frankie Gordon failed?”

  Coridan scowled, looking offended. “Get serious. Nobody’d give a hit to a dumb punk like Frankie. He was running his own game, trying to impress the boss and move up in the organization. It wasn’t approved by Bullet. He’d been sitting on the request a couple of months because he didn’t want Big Mike thinking he had any influence over events in New Orleans. I asked Castile for the contract today because of the big money involved.”

  Maggie noticed Josh’s shoulders stiffen. “Go on. Tell me about it.”

  A faint smile touched Coridan’s lips as if he enjoyed Josh’s reaction. “I guess Big Mike holds a grudge. Said your brother had weaseled on him, and he offered a half mil to the man who could provide proof of death. I figured that would make a nice addition to my retirement fund since I’d be leaving Ne
w Orleans soon.” His eyes slid toward the mirror for an instant, then returned. “I knew Maggie was close to the truth, but I miscalculated how close. I set up the meeting to keep her occupied elsewhere, giving me time to complete my last job and get out of town.”

  “You should have known better. But let’s get back to the other eight targets.”

  “All ordered and paid for by Castile.”

  “Names and dates.”

  While Coridan recited the list, Maggie sighed and looked at Jenson. He gave her a thumbs-up. The crime boss was going down this time.

  Josh’s next question brought Maggie and Jenson a step closer to the mirror.

  “What about Wernier?”

  “Not me, but it was a Castile hit. A sniper named Bo Smitty.”

  “How’d Smitty know Wernier would be there that morning?”

  “He’d been tailing him for twenty-four hours, watching for the right spot. Smitty should have taken out the informant too, but pros don’t work for free. We hadn’t authorized it because we didn’t know who or what she was until Smitty witnessed the meeting and transfer of data between their phones. A costly oversight that nearly blew my cover.”

  “You must have taken Wernier’s phone,” Josh said, pushing for the details everyone in the precinct wanted to hear.

  “Just seconds before help arrived. If Smitty hadn’t called me from the scene to verify the kill, I’d never have arrived in time. Imagine how shocked I was when I saw my photo. Stupid bitch. She got out of town before we found her, and things were deteriorating too fast to chase her down.”

  The instant Coridan named the sniper, Captain Jenson called dispatch, put out a BOLO, and requested a warrant. If Smitty was still in New Orleans, they’d get him.

  After two hours, Josh took a break and joined Maggie and Jenson in the observation room. The names and dates were all on record—Wernier’s killer, every hit committed by Coridan, every incident of evidence tampering, and three unsuspected cases of witness intimidation. Whenever Castile had faced a potential law enforcement problem, Coridan had been the designated troubleshooter—figuratively and literally.