Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Stay where you are,” Alex ordered, before Tuesday could get to her feet and welcome Grissom’s friends like a proper hostess should.

“Well, if you say so,” she demurred, settling back into the corner of the couch where she’d been holed up all afternoon.

Kelsey took Grissom’s place beside her. “You’re looking better.”

“And you’re walking. No more wheelchair?”

“I still use a walker at home but Alex still does most of my running around for me.”

“You were damned lucky.” Setting Bradley on the floor, Alex told Lexie, “You kids go play in Tanner’s and Luke’s room. I hear Santa brought them a big surprise.”

That was all it took for the little ones to scamper away. As they left, Tuesday heard Tanner telling Lexie and Bradley, “We gotta be extra quiet in case Miss Tuesday needs another nap. I don’t hafta take naps anymore, but she does. Do you, Lexie?”

Tuesday couldn’t catch Lexie’s reply, but Tanner’s cautionary comment made her smile. He was a unique little boy. So thoughtful.

“It’s nice of you to stop by,” she told Lexie’s parents.

Alex hmphed. “I’ve got news, but it’ll wait for Grissom. How are Jeff and Henry?”

“They’re well.” Tuesday wondered how Alex knew Freddie’s adult sons. “Henry’s son Caleb graduated from Harvard last fall, but he decided not to go into law with his father.”

“Oh?”

The blank stare from the former Marine sitting in the loveseat across from her confirmed what Tuesday suspected. “You already know Caleb’s in South Carolina, don’t you?”

“Yes. He’s at Parris Island.”

“At the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, training to be a Marine. Like you.”

“He comes from good stock. He’ll do fine.”

“I’ve never met him,” Tuesday admitted, “but if he’s anything like his dad and grandfather, he’s well on his way.” She didn’t say where Caleb was on his way to, but men like Freddie, Henry, Jeff, and Alex were giants in whatever field they chose to enter. Caleb would go far as a Marine, then, who knew? Maybe he’d go farther than his grandfather and become a trillionaire, like Elon Musk.

“We met your husband a few years back,” Kelsey added. “Jed McCormack introduced us at a charity social for veterans. You called him Freddie.”

“Yes. Freddie,” Tuesday whispered, looking down at her bandaged hand where only her fingertips showed. Her nails were a mess, some torn to the quick, others cracked or broken. Somewhere in her desperate battle with Pam, she’d lost a complete thumbnail. Fighting to the death took a toll, and Pam had left her mark. The single shot she’d gotten off had left a narrow burn on Tuesday’s waistline instead of a cut or slice that could’ve been stitched or glued. Not like Tuesday thought her injuries were important. They were just a few of the many she’d acquired over her years photographing the wilds of Planet Earth.

“Freddie taught me so much,” she murmured. “If you’ve already met him, then you know he was bigger than life. He believed in taking a stand, fighting back, and making a difference. When he hooked me up with Robert Frieberg, he insisted I take a martial arts class before I left the country. He brought in a few of his friends to train me how to shoot, how to infil and exfil when the weather was bad, about situational awareness, hunter-killer teams, fast-roping out of helicopters, and how to recognize all kinds of threats. Most everything Marines do. Freddie thought I was stronger than I—”

“You are stronger than you realize and don’t forget it,” Alex cut in. “What would Frederick tell you to do if he were here now?”

“That’s easy.” She looked Alex dead in the eye. “‘Head up. Shoulders back. Never let ’em see you blink .’”

“And where do you think he learned that?” Alex had leaned forward. His hands were loose, his long, elegant fingers hanging between his knees, and his icy-blue eyes focused on Tuesday.

“Parris Island?”

Alex nodded. “You’ll be okay. You’ve been taught by the best, and you’ll be back in the fight before you know it.”

For some reason, Tuesday needed to hear that. “Did you serve with him?”

“Didn’t get the opportunity, no. We were different generations, but he and his sons are all Marines. I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you.”

“Why didn’t he?” That would’ve been nice to have known about the man she’d married.

“Because men who return from war don’t discuss what they did or saw in combat. They come home, knuckle down, and get back to the business of living. The heroes are the men and women who didn’t make it home. Has Grissom mentioned any of his missions?”

“No, and he’s not going to start now, Boss,” Grissom interrupted from the hall doorway. “They’re over, they’re done, and we’re moving on.”

Alex cocked a subtle smile in Tuesday’s direction. “Sound familiar?”

She tossed a smile back at him. “Sounds like Freddie.”

Grissom took the seat directly opposite Alex, the coffee table between them. “Hey, Kels. What brings you folks to my neck of the woods?”

“You mean your tree farm?” Kelsey asked, her brown eyes sparkling. “Those pines in your backyard are beautiful with the snow on their boughs. They’d make gorgeous Christmas cards if someone were to take a few pictures while they’re glistening. I mean, look at that scene out there, people. It’s the perfect setting for one of those cheesy Hallmark movies.”

Grissom dragged a hand up the back of his neck. “Not happening, sorry. They provide too much cover, and I need a clear line of sight. Once I log off that acreage, we’ll be able to see anyone com—”

“You can’t cut those trees down,” Tuesday cut in. “I have memories out there, of you and your boys singing Christmas songs, right before we found our very first tree.”

A no-kidding smile broke through the weary expression he’d worn since she’d come home from the hospital. “ Our very first tree?” he asked.

That word, our, meant a lot to him, Tuesday could tell.

Thank heavens Alex interrupted with a polite ‘ahem,’ before the hot flash creeping up her neck went nuclear. “Howie’s been interrogating Pam McCoy.”

Hearing his wife’s name wiped the smile off Grissom’s face. He tipped forward, his palms to his knees, his focus switched to his boss. “What now?”

Alex pointed a finger at Grissom. “You married a helluva liar, for starters. That woman wouldn’t know the truth if it spit in her face.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“She’s insisting that Tuesday was the aggressor in Puntarenas, then again when she stormed this place” —Alex held both palms forward when Tuesday opened her mouth to protest— “Don’t kill the messenger. Those are Pam’s words, not mine or Howie’s. She said you interfered in what she claims was a peaceful reunion with her and her precious sons until you showed up.”

“That woman!” Tuesday exclaimed.

“Precious sons, my ass,” Grissom growled. “She lured Luke with what he thought was candy to get him to let her in. Jesus, he was holding the half-eaten bag of THC edibles that she gave him when we arrived on scene!” He raked a quick hand over his head. “What about the roofie she slipped me? What about—?”

Alex gave Grissom his chin. “One thing at a time. You’re right, though. What Dr. Pratt pumped out of your boy’s gut in the ER is all the evidence Howie needs to put Pam away for life. And what Doctor Windhall pumped out of you wasn’t a roofie, Grissom. It was scopolamine, and I already told you that. Remember?”

Grissom nodded. “Yeah. I remember. I’m getting better.”

Alex continued. “We now have more hard evidence against your wife than she can possibly manufacture against you, Tuesday. But I’ve got to tell you, Grissom, if she’d poisoned Lexie or Bradley, I would’ve already sent her to hell. No questions asked. No quarter given.”

“I should’ve done that the second I saw she’d gotten inside my house,” Grissom hissed.

“No, Grissom,” Tuesday interrupted. “Your boys didn’t need the image of their father killing their mother seared into their little brains. They needed you more that day than she needed to die. She’ll get hers. Just wait, you’ll see.”

“But she nearly killed you.” He was still so angry.

“I guess I showed her then, huh?” Tuesday said, with more attitude than she’d felt in days.

The handsome smile of Grissom’s came back. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Get this,” Alex interrupted, speaking to Tuesday this time. “Pam also wants you charged with attempted murder and jailed without bail for trying to kill her.”

“Me? But she was the one with a weapon.”

“Exactly. But Pam’s dumbass attorney maintains you became the aggressor the moment you took possession of her firearm.”

“I never had possession.”

“It was self-defense!” Grissom roared.

“Yes, and Pam fired but only after Tuesday had partial control of her weapon. Tuesday, you never had a solid hold on the grip or trigger, right?” Alex continued as if Grissom hadn’t exploded. “That’s what burned your palm, right? Just the barrel, right?”

“That’s all I could reach.” Tuesday held up her bandaged palm. “It burned my life-line off, but I had to stop her, Alex. She would’ve killed Tanner if I hadn’t.”

Grissom reached over and put a hand on her knee. “God, I love you.”

“That’s not all,” Alex said. “Pam wants you charged with assault for the neck chop you nailed her with, the one she claims nearly paralyzed her. Good thinking, by the way. Also for doing that ‘ninja thing’—her words again, not mine—when you head-butted her and broke her nose, another damned good self-defense tactic.”

“All while maintaining partial possession of the weapon that Pam brought into Grissom’s house. Just the barrel,” Kelsey added.

“Which clearly shows forethought and intent,” Grissom added.

“I don’t know how you did it, girlfriend,” Kelsey told Tuesday.

She turned to Kelsey at that sweet word, fighting tears. “I had to,” she whispered, recalling the stark terror on poor Tanner’s brave little face as he’d faced his evil mother. “I couldn’t let her hurt my, err, sorry, I meant, Grissom’s boys.”

“ Our boys , damn it,” Grissom growled. “I owe you everything for coming to their rescue, woman. Fu—! I mean, darn. Oh hell, I mean I wouldn’t still have them if you hadn’t shown up when you did. Both times. Jesus!”

Lowering her head, Tuesday let the tears fall. He made it sound as if a future were in the cards for them, as if his sons were already hers. Oh, how she wished.

Kelsey joined Alex on the loveseat. As soon as she settled on his lap, he put his arm around her, effectively shackling her to him. They made such a romantic couple. Grissom did the same, just moved in beside Tuesday and lifted her onto his lap. She burrowed under his arm, leaned her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. The warmth and comfort his body provided was so welcome. As was the tissue he pulled out of nowhere and tucked into her good hand. As were the gentle kisses he pressed to her temple while she mopped her face.

Tuesday wanted what Alex and Kelsey had. All that love…It wasn’t hard to see the shine in Kelsey’s pretty brown eyes or the careful way Alex held his wife, his hand on her waist. They were a match made in heaven. A rugged beast and his dark-haired beauty. A fairytale come to life.

“So how’d Pam hook up with Moreno?” Grissom asked, while Tuesday relaxed more fully against him. “He’s from New York City; she’s a tag chaser from JBLM.” Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington state.

“Like I said, a liar. Despite what Pam swears is true, that Moreno paid her to kill Tuesday and that everything was his idea, we both heard Moreno say she didn’t hire him. Why would he lie? According to Sal, they crossed paths when he was casing Lamb’s son’s house, looking for Tuesday, and I believe him. It’s not difficult locating Jeff or Henry, not since the press made Tuesday’s life public knowledge when they tried her in public for murdering her husband and the Bremmer family. Moreno was only after Tuesday at first, but once he caught up with Pam, she told him you two were together. He figured if he tracked you, Grissom, he’d find Tuesday.”

“So Moreno found Tuesday because of me?” Grissom asked.

Alex nodded. “Yes, but Pam’s who led him to your address. Once she knew why he wanted Tuesday, they agreed to work together. After he had all of Frederick Lamb’s money, Pam convinced him to hire someone to kill you, Grissom. That was her only condition. She wanted you dead. Moreno got Tuesday.”

“Pam wasn’t prepared for Tuesday though,” Grissom said.

“No, Moreno was supposed to wait on that frontage road while Pam broke in and poisoned her boys. Moreno was only the driver. He had no idea Pam even had kids.”

“She hit me with a brick,” Tuesday murmured.

“You’re lucky that’s all she did. Airport security at Reagan found an odd bag of tools in Moreno’s sedan: several rolls of duct tape, a pack of nylon rope, boning and hunting knives, pliers, garden shears, and a pencil-tipped, propane torch. Pam’s admitted she planned to torture Grissom, but just for fun.” Alex finished with a huff. “That woman’s a stone-cold psycho.”

“How’d she get Grissom’s address?” Tuesday asked.

“Post Office has his forwarding address. They’re not supposed to share information like that, but with enough money, a person’s privacy goes out the window,” Alex replied.

“She also stole thousands from Mike Estes before she murdered him,” Kelsey added. “She probably would’ve killed Moreno too, if Tuesday hadn’t ruined her plans.”

Alex nodded. “At first, Howie thought Pam killed Estes in the heat of passion, but then he got in touch with the police in Puntarenas. Seems she emptied Estes’ bank account prior to his untimely death, which is premeditation. Add that to what Reagan Airport security found in the trunk of Moreno’s sedan, and she’ll go down for first-degree murder.”

“Good,” Tuesday whispered at the same time Grissom barked, “I hope they hang her.”

She could only imagine what was running through his mind. He blamed himself marrying Pam in the first place, for putting his sons in danger, and for the abuse she’d heaped on Tanner. But that was what good fathers did. They stood between their children and evil, and when they failed, they blamed themselves.

“Unfortunately, she won’t be extradited to Costa Rica. The Puntarena police won’t be able to charge her for murder or seize the money she stole because she burned through it traveling back to the States. She won’t hang for her crimes in D.C., either. There’s no death penalty in Virginia.” Slyly, Alex added, “But there is in Florida.”

Tuesday wished she could read his mind.

“What’s Florida got to do with that witch?” Grissom asked.

“Because Pamela McCoy lied on your marriage certificate.” Alex’s lips curved into a delightfully wicked smile. “She might’ve been living in Washington state when you met her, but she was born and raised in Gainesville, Florida. Her real name’s Marcia Valentino, and she’s wanted for killing an airman from Eglin Air Force Base seven years ago. She accused him of fathering the child she was allegedly carrying, then stabbed the poor guy when he refused to marry her. The motel they hooked up in had just installed a top-of-the-line security system and caught everything. She was charged with manslaughter, but for some reason, the idiot judge who arraigned her released her on her own recognizance. Pam fled the state and changed her name.”

Tuesday couldn’t believe the wicked twists and turns in that woman’s mind. “Was she really pregnant, or was that a lie, too? What’d she do with that baby? Is it still—”

Grissom’s hold tightened. “Easy, Mama Bear. Let’s hear what else Alex has to say.”

But knowing Pam had refused to nurture her children with Grissom, Tuesday couldn’t help worrying. Was that other baby another lie Pam told to get what she wanted, or was it real? Was it in a foster home, bereft and left out for the rest of its life, or was it loved and nurtured like every child deserved to be? Worse, did Pam simply have it scraped out of her body after she’d killed the baby’s father? Was she that cruel? That heartless?

Stark desolation roared over Tuesday at all the questions. She needed answers and she had the means to make it happen. As soon as Grissom and his boys went to bed, she’d search online and hire someone to search for that baby. She could fund a string of orphanages. That’d be the perfect way to spend Freddie’s money. Private orphanages. Maybe private homes for unwed mothers, too. All staffed by people that cared, truly cared for at-risk people, and she’d work there. And, oh yes, a home for men who found themselves with violent spouses or partners. She could make all of it happen. Every last bit.