Megan, Amber, and Amber’s dog, Tess, shared the entire top floor. A broad balcony in front and a sunroom in the back kept the place from seeming claustrophobic. Not to mention a dozen large windows.
The scent of coffee greeted Megan before she slipped her key into the lock. The instant she swung the door open, doggy toenails scrabbled on the wood floor and Tess streaked around the corner from the kitchen to the hallway and flung herself at Megan’s feet, rolling on her back, four paws in the air, tail swishing.
“You silly thing.” Megan bent to rub the dog’s belly to the accompaniment of snorts of puppy glee, though Tess was four and a half.
Golden retrievers were forever puppies.
For two seconds, Megan considered dropping onto the floor beside the dog, wrapping her arms around her, and letting Tess lick away her tears.
Then Amber appeared around the doorway from the kitchen. “Meg, I hope that’s you.”
“It’s me.” Grammar disregarded, she changed her focus from dog to roommate and colleague.
Amber was small, with hair the color of her namesake, and gray-blue eyes that moved as though she were restless. In truth, it was a medical condition she couldn’t control and which prevented her from focusing. That was how Tess had come into her life—as her guide dog. Megan had yet to find a part of the city Amber and Tess couldn’t reach on their own.
At the office, Amber was a combination of receptionist and research assistant. She had moved to Chicago from Pittsburgh for the job and needed a place to live. Megan had needed a roommate. They had been inseparable ever since.
“Is everything all right?” Amber asked. “I mean, you were out all night.”
“Everything is anything but all right.” Megan blinked at the mist in front of her eyes. “I got shot at, my car was stolen, and—”
She had met a gorgeous man.
“You’re kidding.” Amber caught hold of Megan’s shoulders. “At least I hope you are.”
“Not a bit.” Megan rested her head on her friend’s shoulder. “And I had to rescue a man from getting pushed off an L.”
“I think you have a lot to tell me.” The understatement was so Amber that Megan started to laugh, albeit a little hysterically.
“Can you feed me something besides a banana smoothie and coffee? I won’t have the strength to talk if I don’t get real food.”
“If you make it good with the boss if I’m late.”
“Since I’m practically your boss...” Megan began, but maybe she wouldn’t be after all. “Let me plug my phone in and text Gary we’ll both be late. I need to tell him about my car and laptop.” She sighed. “The rest will wait until we get into the office.”
“Not for me it won’t, if you want breakfast.” Amber headed back to the kitchen, Tess on her heels.
“I will. I will.” Megan stumbled down the hallway to her room.
Because her room in the house she had grown up in had been frilly and full of priceless antique furniture, Megan’s current room was modern shabby chic. She’d purchased every piece from a secondhand shop or through ads posted on a neighborhood app. The result was cozy comfort, not showpiece angst. An overstuffed chair in moss green microfiber graced one corner. Megan dropped her messenger bag beside it and plugged in her cell phone on the round table between that and her bed. She considered dropping onto the chair for a moment’s rest, decided she might fall asleep there, and headed for the shower instead.
She wanted to linger beneath the hot spray but hurried through ablutions and dressed in black leggings and a black-and-rose print tunic. Her hair went into a messy bun. Only because her reflection told her she looked sickly pale, she brushed on some makeup before exiting to the café table in the kitchen.
“Can I do something to help?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Amber scooped eggs from a pan onto a plate. “Stay out of my way.”
“I can butter the—”
“I have the toast.”
Amber was intimidatingly efficient in the kitchen. She complained that nothing she made looked like the videos online, but who cared about presentation when the flavor was so magnificent? Megan hadn’t learned to cook growing up, so she was self-taught and not well. Somehow, her efforts neither looked like nor tasted like she thought they should.
As Amber glided toward her, Megan rose to take the plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Coffee and juice followed, and she didn’t say a word until she had scraped her plate clean and started on the second cup of coffee. Then she told Amber her story as concisely as possible.
At the end of the recital, Amber said, “Tell me more about this Jack guy.”
“I nearly get killed, and you ask about a man.” Megan pushed her plate aside and thumped her head on the table. “I don’t have time for men in my life unless they are clients.”
“That’s why your voice goes soft whenever you say his name.” Amber stood. “Why don’t you get some sleep. I’ll clean up here and get to work.”
At the word work, Tess wriggled out from beneath the table and ran to the door. She loved her job.
Megan smiled at the dog, then all but crawled to her room. Part of her mind told her to go into the office. The rest warned her she would be worse than useless if she didn’t get some sleep.
She was asleep seconds after she pulled the duvet over herself.
* * *
Jack called 911 and reported sighting a stolen car. He hung up before the operator could ask him how he knew the car was stolen. He needed to get off the block before the utility truck moved and exposed him to the driver of Megan’s car.
He had grown up in the neighborhood, had run wild most of those years, and knew every highway and byway, every nook and cranny. He knew which gangways between houses he could traverse and not get stuck in a backyard, who had a dog to look out for, and which routes kept him hidden from the street.
Selecting a circuitous route, he ended up at his back gate. Normally, he could climb the fence. This morning wasn’t normal. His arm throbbed, and the rest of him didn’t feel much better.
So he called Grace to let him in. She grumbled about having to put on shoes but was grinning when she managed the two steps from the back stoop to the ground with her walker.
Oh, she looked good. Strong and so pretty he knew he would worry as much as any father when she went back among people and found herself another boyfriend or gaggle of admirers. He wanted it to be soon for her sake and forever for his.
“Is the car something bad?” she asked him.
“Yes. I’m glad you warned me.” He entered through the gate she unlocked and hugged her close. “The cops will come and take care of them soon.”
He hoped.
“Who are they?” Grace turned on the walkway and headed back to the house, trying not to drag her right leg.
“It’s a stolen car.” Jack didn’t want to tell her more.
“How do you know?” She asked the question, as he knew she would.
“Long story I’m too tired to tell.” He strode ahead of her so he could open the back door. “One reason why I was out all night. I was making a police report. Among other things. Saw our uncle.”
“And he wants me to move in with them.” Grace thumped her walker into a corner of the kitchen and made her way to a chair with the help of the counter, then the table. “Says I’d be better off there.”
“Something like that.” Jack eyed the coffee maker. They needed to get out of there, but he needed to do it in a way that didn’t alarm Grace. “Sure you don’t want to go? You wouldn’t have to leave Chicago and everyone you know.”
Grace stared at the table, her long, wavy brown hair shielding her face. “Why would I want to stay here? It’s not like anyone is friends with me anymore.”
“They will be once you’re in school. Want to go out for breakfast?”
; “But you can’t distract me with an invitation to your favorite diner. I know my friends are afraid I’ll want to go places with them, and I’d embarrass them.”
“Oh, Grace.” Jack didn’t know what to say. From what he’d seen, he feared she was right.
But she was the same person—smart and pretty and possessing a good sense of humor. She was strong in mind and body and held a determination he hadn’t known she harbored.
“So I’d rather start over again,” Grace continued. “And I’ll be close for you to visit when you get days off.” She flashed him her brilliant smile. “Besides, I can brag my big brother is a fed.”
“A boring accountant.”
“Not if you’re chasing stolen cars.” She glanced toward the living room.
Jack slipped through the curtains he’d hung between the dining and living rooms for Grace’s privacy so he could look out the front window.
The car was there, no longer running, and empty.
Jack began a systematic check of all the windows and doors, seeking signs of tampering, of telltale wires. He should get himself and Grace out of there. The car wasn’t parked out front for no reason, even if it was just some kind of warning or twisted joke. Maybe he would check things outside, but first he must take time for a quick shower and change of clothes.
So maybe Grace would be better off with his uncle. The man seemed to have changed since he and their aunt had resumed going to church after twenty years or so away.
Jack’s job wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. No one went after forensic accountants. Most people never knew who they were.
If only he hadn’t allowed Farrel to convince him Megan needed looking after, he wouldn’t be in danger, too. He and Grace. Megan would have done fine on her own. Maybe better if he hadn’t startled her from that tree. But then again, he was glad he had been there so she hadn’t faced such a scene alone....
Then you wouldn’t have ever met Megan.
He turned the volume off on that little voice in his head. He would do quite well not knowing Megan. He simply needed to call her to tell her about the car showing up in front of his house. He only knew her office number and doubted she was there, but he would call her office to have whoever was in get a message to her.
But first he needed to look around the outside of his house to see if anything was changed.
Ten minutes later, he had his answer. With the flashlight on his phone giving him a view beneath the meter, he spotted the scratches. They weren’t from normal wear and tear; they were fresh, sharp to the brush of his fingertip.
Someone had tampered with the meter. Or tried to. Jack didn’t know which and didn’t want to wait around to find out. He had to get himself and Grace out of there.
She was capable of traveling on public transit. Buses had ramps and train stations had elevators. Better than staying in the house where she wasn’t safe. “Do you want to go with me today?” he asked Grace.
The way her face lit was answer enough.
“Just one question,” Grace asked as they exited the house through the back door, avoiding the abandoned car out front.
“One of many,” Jack muttered.
“For now,” Grace conceded.
“What is it?” Jack scanned the area for signs they were being followed.
“Why are you taking me with you?”
Jack shrugged.
Grace glared.
Jack sighed. “All right. All right.” He scanned around them as he and Grace headed for 103rd Street to catch the bus. “The man you saw at the meter may have tampered with it.”
“You mean they were trying to hurt us?” Grace’s voice squeaked.
“Something like that.” No sense in lying to her.
They reached the corner. Others waited for the bus, as well. Jack said nothing more. He watched the group. He watched the street, ready to snatch Grace up at a moment’s notice. Their journey began without incident. Bus. L train. Crowds of people. Jack insisted a high school age boy move so Grace could have a seat. His thought that kids were born without manners these days made him feel old—too old to be picking up and relocating to another state to a new life that would have him moving often, more likely than not. Unfair to Grace?
But she’d be in high school, then college, then a life of her own. This was his calling, what he was meant to do. He had been so sure since he applied for a place in the academy. Grace’s accident had been the only glitch. He’d had to delay his plans. But not cancel them.
He leaned against the train car wall in front of Grace, watching passengers, watching platforms.
Seeing nobody suspicious, Jack looked up Megan’s office on his phone. Less than a block from an L station. Good location. A long ride for them, but no trains to transfer to. No more buses. Not much of a walk. And somewhere to go with Grace, someplace public and safe. He could tell Megan in person that someone had tampered with his meter. Explosives weren’t his forte, and he didn’t know what danger a wired meter posed. Nothing good for sure. Something to stay away from. A warning at the least.
Grace had settled back with a book, though she occasionally glanced out the window at the city flashing by until they dove underground. The noise increased, rumbling train wheels echoing off the tunnel walls. More people crowded on again and again, shoving handbags and backpacks into Jack until he thought he would suffocate. Then they reached the Loop and the crowds began to disperse. The car emptied with each stop back out of downtown until only Jack and Grace and one other man were present. Jack seated himself beside his sister, never taking his gaze from the other passenger. He appeared to be sleeping. Jack knew better than to trust that pose. Sleeping dogs didn’t always lie asleep even if you didn’t mean to wake them.
The train swept from underground.
“One stop to go after this one,” Jack told Grace.
She nodded and slipped her book into her backpack. It was purple, but Jack had carried it for her so much in the past few months he didn’t care if people gave him odd looks.
He shouldered it now and offered her a hand up. She shook her head and steadied herself with her walker as the train slowed. The doors slid open, and a blast of smoke-scented air and the hint of a haze blew in.
“This is terrible. What’s going on?” Grace said.
Jack didn’t know, and his gut warned him he didn’t want to know. But he had to find out.
“Grace, wait right here on the platform by the elevator. Don’t move.”
Further back in the station and protected by the superstructure of the elevator, the air was clearer.
“But—”
“Please.”
“Okay, but leave my bag.”
He hooked the strap on her walker, then took the steps down two, three at a time, the address of Megan’s office on repeat in his head. Thirty-two something North Sheffield. Thirty-two something North Sheffield. Thirty-two...
What was the something?
Jack feared the answer wouldn’t matter.
He would find out the truth in a moment.
The crowd on the sidewalk stopped him from moving. Beyond them, fire trucks and police cars stopped the crowd from surging forward. Taller than most present, Jack rose on his toes to see over the crowd as far as he could.
And spotted smoke pouring from the building he was positive contained Megan’s office.
SIX
Smoke and the stench of burning gas filled Megan’s office just as she and Gary finished looking over her video from the night before. Down the hall, Tess began to bark and Amber screamed.
Fire. Someone had started a fire.
Megan sprinted for the lobby. Amber was a capable woman, and Tess a stellar guide, but these dogs weren’t trained to get people out of burning buildings, were they? Good sense should have Tess guiding Amber away from the worst of any flames and smoke. But which
way was that from Amber’s reception desk? The fire could have cut them off from the front door or from the hallway and back exit.
Megan slammed to a halt at the reception entry. She saw no flames, but the smoke was black, billowing too thick for her to know where to find a clear path to safety.
She began to cough. “Amber,” she called between gasps for air.
She tugged her T-shirt over her face. The cotton was poor protection but better than nothing.
“Amber,” she tried to shout. It was more a croak.
“Megan, come out this way,” Gary yelled to her, his own shirt tied around his face.
“Amber,” Megan repeated the name.
“You can’t go in, and we’ve got to get out of here.”
“But we can’t leave them in there. They aren’t answering.” From smoke or distress she didn’t know. Maybe both.
“We’ll do better getting them through the front door.” Gary tugged on her arm. “I have the backup drive.”
“I’ll go get Amber.”
“You’re not big enough to be helpful. Take this.” Gary thrust the flat box of the backup drive toward her. “You get out.”
She took the hard drive from Gary and raced for the door into the alley.
Gary was twice Megan’s age, and not as fit. If necessary, he wasn’t capable of carrying Amber and Tess. Neither was Megan.
The wail of a siren told Megan they might not have to do any rescuing. Help was on the way. A fire engine, a police car, an ambulance.
Not the ambulance. Please, God, not an ambulance.
The silence from the lobby shook Megan’s belief the two could be all right.
Because of me.
Okay, because of her case. Because of the wrong the man and woman had committed that went beyond workmen’s compensation fraud. Still, she had pushed it because she wanted the agency.
Exposing a Killer Page 6
