by Ellen Parker
“Call me …” She swallowed. “Mona.”
Hesitation on a simple question. Linc angled their path and glanced first at her and then the man. His experience with women uncertain of their own name hadn’t existed until a moment ago. Then again, the man she’d indicated did have an unsettling air about him.
“My name’s Linc. That’s short for Lincoln Dray. The man following you, is he holding a phone and walking out of door number two?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Looks dangerous.”
“He is.”
He halted in front of a lighted board advertising local attractions before dropping her hand. Tiny. Young. He touched his back pocket and confirmed she hadn’t lifted his wallet. “I could be just as hazardous. What do you need?”
She fingered both straps of her bulging backpack and looked him full in the face. “I need to get out of the city. Give time for his temper to cool or get distracted.”
He scanned the people around him and let the questions in his mind jostle for priority. “Why me? I could live a mile away.”
“With that hat?” She sent a cautious smile toward him.
He adjusted the brim of his Milwaukee Brewers baseball cap and nodded. “Mona, how old are you?”
She raised both black straight brows, giving him a better look at the darkest, most alluring set of eyes he’d ever seen.
“Twenty-four.”
“You look closer to fifteen.” His gaze fastened on her face, looking for clues beyond smooth cheeks and a small mouth presenting a large dose of determination. “I’m not eager to get arrested as soon as I cross a state line.”
“Do I need to prove it?”
“Yes.”
“Will you return the favor?”
He looked over his shoulder to confirm the man she feared was out of sight before pulling out his wallet and flipping it open to his Wisconsin driver’s license.
A moment later she extended a Minnesota identification card into his view.
“Smith, Mary Monica? I expected something more exotic.” He held his mouth neutral as he calculated her age to match her previous answer. Officially she claimed to be an even five feet tall. He inspected her again and figured that could be an exaggeration.
“I prefer Mona.” She returned her ID card to her pocket. “Some of my grandparents were Chinese. I inherited my grandmother’s eyes.”
He reached out and snatched her cap. A mound of straight black hair fell past her chin.
“Hey. Give me my hat.” She rose up on her toes and reached high, unable to win against his additional height and longer arm.
“Maybe later. I can see you better without it.” He looked directly into her unique eyes and fought the pull of twin whirlpools tugging him to the depths. “By the way, your non-friend left.”
“I need. I want.” She stepped closer and brushed against him while attempting to claim her cap.
“It’s not much of a disguise.”
“I was in a hurry. Will you give me a ride? Drop me off at a motel near that Eau Claire address on your ID?”
“I’ll think about it.” He inspected her, and cataloged a serious, determined expression out of place on her youthful face. Would she do? Did a gift in answer to that stream of prayers he’d sent in recent months stand in front of him? Or did she represent a cruel joke of the fates sent to lull him into a trap?
He crossed pickpocket off his list of her possible occupations as he returned his wallet to its usual place and pulled his keys into one palm.
Gooseflesh rippled along his arms at the thought she could have picked a different stranger, one who would have no moral or ethical problem taking advantage of her situation. He studied her for another long moment, telling himself that small and weak were very different things. Her backpack appeared full and heavy, yet she carried it with ease. Her posture, arms, and what he could tell of her legs in black pants indicated an athlete. He’d play it cautious and treat her as capable of putting a man into a painful position with one quick jab in a vital place.
“My next stop is an Econoline van in the blue parking ramp. If you follow I’ll give you a ride out of the city. Fair enough?”
• • •
Mona snatched her cap while Linc’s arm was still in motion. She gathered her hair into a messy twist and settled the hat over it. It wasn’t good, not even as neat as her previous quick attempt on the train, but it would conceal her black hair from a casual observer. She glanced back to the small group still at the baggage carousel and breathed relief. The man in the clerical collar, whom she’d almost selected over the Brewers cap, hugged a woman. Must be one of those Protestant look-alikes.
The automatic door opened with a swish and she hurried to catch up with Linc. One final hesitation attacked as she walked past the security guard and he made eye contact. One shout, three steps, and she could report Basil’s suspicious behavior. Nope. Not worth it. The apartment might have enough evidence to tie Basil to the break-in. But he’d have a rational story to explain why he followed her on the train to the airport.
Matt had warned her to stay away from the police. She’d almost tripped up at the apartment with the aborted phone call. It had been difficult enough to look at his bruises; she wasn’t going to risk his life. No police. She would remember Matt’s simple request. It blended into her own wariness of law enforcement developed during her brother’s descent into criminal activity. In her experience they arrested first and brushed off explanations far too easily.
Basil took this exit. She kept her gaze in motion, imagining the gang leader watching from behind a pillar or shadowed alcove. Was he alone? Or did he have one or more of his minions tailing her?
She held her breath as Linc led them into an elevator and pressed the button for one of the lower levels. What if? What if this stranger she’d selected on the basis of clean-cut appearance and out-of-town baseball cap had evil intent? Did they have security cameras in here?
“Row D’ five or six spaces from the far end.” Linc glanced back as he exited the tiny, isolated elevator.
“Okay.” She needed to take three steps for every two of his long strides. Stale auto exhaust mingled in early summer humidity and wrapped around concrete pillars decorated with white letters on blue squares. He’s given me time and opportunity to leave. Does that confirm his honesty? Or conceal a practiced liar?
She glanced at his profile when they paused for a car. How tall had his license listed him? She’d been more interested in the address. He might be an inch under six feet. He impressed her as long arms and legs on a lean, fit torso. His ringless fingers wrapped around the suitcase handle. She met pale grey eyes for an instant before returning her gaze to the stairway beside the elevator.
A shadow moved up the steps and her heart did a little hesitation thing, imitating the uncertain moment of water between simmer and boil. She blinked, stepped off behind Linc with her attention on the stairwell and glimpsed an arm. Is that tattooed?
“What sort of car are we looking for?” She kept her voice steady while sensing a flash behind them. Another. Like a photographer ensuring his shot.
“White van. Ford. Commercial configuration.” He led her across an aisle, his words attempting to echo on the harsh walls.
Her legs steadied with confidence. No matter what the man beside her turned out to be, she’d found a breathing spell. A ride out of the city remained all she wanted. All Lincoln Dray volunteered.
One more obstacle now delayed Basil, or whoever he’d send after her, before they could try to take money she didn’t have. She said a quick prayer for Matt, that her escape from the dark world represented by Basil wouldn’t bring retaliation. Matt regretted his slide into the life. He’d made that clear over and over by keeping her away from his friends and the criminal culture’s black grasp as best he could.
• • •
“Be here in ten.” Basil Berg snapped the words into his smartphone. He pictured Nick, his subordinate at the other end o
f the command, sprinting to his car. In the interim Basil needed to collect more information. He hurried back into the stairwell and down one level.
The Smith girl and her new friend walked along the aisle in the parking ramp, ready to get ahead of him. According to the plate on the white van, the driver lived in Wisconsin. He dared to hope she stayed with him instead of pulling a fancy multi-layered exit from the metro area.
He paused on the final landing above Matt’s sister and confirmed he was alone on this portion of the stairwell. He eased forward and spotted the white Econoline backing into the aisle.
Click. Click. Click. He added three images with the maximum telephoto setting on his phone before stepping back into the shadows. Never hurt to have another view.
Basil thought about Mona’s greeting to the young man. The van driver had arrived on the American flight from Dallas. Did she know him? Or was she an actress? He’d bet a baggie of his best Molly on the latter. Matt didn’t claim a lot of relatives. That gave the girl the same low number. If this man belonged to the Caucasian side of the family he’d have been at the mother’s funeral. Basil reflected again on that late January day and didn’t recall any mourner who came close to tall, blond, and young. Nope. All he could picture at the moment were a collection of hotel employees, including men of an older generation, and ladies from the Chinese community.
If this was a new close friend, he’d missed any mention of it during visits to the diner. He’d approach the situation as Mona trusting a random stranger. Not the sort of behavior he expected from her.
Basil descended one more step to get a clearer view as the van circled toward the exit. He snapped three front-view photos before footsteps prompted him to continue down the stairs. He walked to the elevator, waited for a family to count children and luggage, and pushed the button for the main pick-up level.
Five minutes later, Basil slipped into the passenger side of a Ford Escape and clicked the seat belt almost before the vehicle came to a rest.
“Where to, boss?” Nick eased back into the traffic of the Terminal One passenger pick-up lane.
“Franklin. Five hundred block. I need to pick up my car.”
“Why didn’t you drive here?”
“Wrong question.” The girl had taken the train and he’d followed, but Nick didn’t have the need to know. Basil met Nick’s quick glance with a stare to confirm the chain of command. He would not have any employee, even a capable man like Nick, prying into his private business. At this moment his driver needed an address, nothing more.
Basil did a quick mental review of his search in the Smith apartment. Not one piece of jewelry or trendy small electronics—which Matt favored in his burglaries—turned up. The situation looked more and more like his informant had passed along a personal gripe against Matt. Still, Basil needed to confront the girl, get a second opinion of Matt’s activities when not on assignments. Besides, she was a pretty little thing, hard-working at the diner. She appeared to be the sort of person a man could take home to his mother.
“Can you work with the photos?” Basil made a follow-up call to his personal contact at motor vehicles.
“Wisconsin plates. Green bumper sticker’s consistent with a school … cougar mascot. It’s going to take time. I’m not at the office and will need to hack into the official database.”
“It’s top priority.” He needed to get a tail on the girl. Tomorrow, after this other situation settled, he’d pay her a personal visit.
Basil disconnected the call and maintained silence until Nick scooted into a parking place half a block from Mona’s apartment.
“Ten o’clock tonight. Bring a name to go with that rogue dealer,” Basil instructed Nick as he exited the car. He wanted to have his facts straight before he acted against a punk selling his exclusive brand, the double B butterfly logo, on ecstasy.
“Right, boss.” For an instant Nick appeared ready to speak again but showed the good sense to hold it back.
“Now, go.” Basil slapped the roof of the car once before walking forward to give a quick inspection to his waiting vehicle. Satisfied that the chrome and tires remained in pristine condition, he leaned against the passenger door of his 1967 metallic red El Camino and dialed the second largest hospital in the city.
“This is Basil Berg. Tell me if Kevin Berg has been admitted. He’ll be coming in from Twin Pines Residential Facility.”
“What is your relationship, sir?” A tired feminine voice came over a background of assorted chimes and distant conversation.
“Brother. You should have my name on all his paperwork. He’s been a patient with you before.” He swallowed back an epithet the receptionist didn’t deserve for following a script. By now he could probably recite the confidentiality rules in his sleep.
“Sir?”
“Yes, I’m still on the line.”
“We show him as registered in orthopedic emergency.”
Basil thanked the woman and tapped his phone to a calendar application. Sure enough, Kevin’s seizures were getting more frequent. Only three days since the previous episode. According to the staff at Kevin’s home, this one had come on so suddenly and severely they suspected a broken ankle from thrashing against furniture. He’d have to discuss that most recent medication change with the doctor in charge.
Three years ago Kevin Berg had been a college sophomore with a bright future. But an accident on an icy road resulted in a traumatic brain injury. Now he struggled to dress and eat without assistance.
Basil pulled out of the parking space and drove at the exact speed limit toward the hospital. Matt Smith, his sister, and the missing money slipped down in priority. His brother needed him.
Chapter Three
Mona twisted in the confines of her seat belt and scanned the rear interior of the van. A large rubber mat covered the central portion of a metal floor. A set of shelves appeared bolted along the driver’s side almost to the rear door. She didn’t see dirt, but she could smell it, almost feel it in her hand. “Smells like a greenhouse.”
“I expect it does.” Linc pulled away from the parking ramp payment booth.
“Is that where you work?” The realization she knew nothing about the man beside her collided with years of warnings from family and teachers like an invisible punch to her stomach.
He fished a business card out of the cup holder in the console between them and held it out. “I do interior gardens.”
She took her gaze off the maze of traffic signs and read the green script next to a design of ivy overflowing from a pot. “Terrier’s Plant Services. It doesn’t match your name.”
“I’m not the owner.”
She held her breath as he sped up while merging into traffic on a different interstate. City streets suited her better. She felt comfortable riding her bicycle between work, school, the apartment, and several Minneapolis parks. When she took the bus on longer jaunts she kept track of landmarks and key streets. This maze with overhead green signs and arrows giving the choice of three directions confused her.
“Are you okay over there? Having second thoughts?”
Third and fourth. She forced an exhale. “I’ll be okay. Not used to the traffic.”
“It’s the beginning of the evening rush. Pardon me while I concentrate on driving for a bit. I’ll drop you off in a few miles if you want. Just speak up and I’ll exit before it gets rural.”
“No.” She put a fake firmness in her reply. “Take me to Eau Claire. Drop me off at a modest motel.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He checked his mirrors and eased into a different lane.
Mona rested her feet on her bulging backpack and tucked the business card into her pocket, next to her transit Go-To Card. The opportunity for a garden, interior or exterior, lay outside the confines of her life. Maybe, after they got away from the worst of this traffic, she’d prod him for specifics.
“Who is he?” Linc shot a glance in her direction after a few moments of silence.
“What do you mean?
”
“Are you running from your husband?”
She burst into a short laugh. “I’ve never been married. And certainly not to him.”
“A boyfriend? An ex?”
“No. And no again. He …” She touched her lips with two fingers to bundle her thoughts differently. “My brother worked for him. He belongs in prison, but he manages to be smoother than a nonstick pan when arrested.”
“And your brother? What sort of coating does he have?”
She turned her head to watch his reaction. It might just be necessary to take an exit before the state line after all. “Velcro.”
He looked away and checked the mirrors as if buying time before a reply.
“Before you ask, I don’t work with my brother. He’s a thief currently serving time for breaking and entering.” She stopped before adding the assault charge, the item on the list that put him in state prison instead of county jail. The one crime he’d tried and failed to get the public defender to fight. In the end he’d taken a plea for a minimum sentence. She knew he was innocent. Wrong time, wrong place, with jewelry from the neighbors on his person.
“Then why not talk to the security guard? Or the police?” He sped past the final Minnesota exit.
“It gets complicated.”
“We’ve got almost seventy miles of highway to discuss it.”
“We’re strangers.”
“New acquaintances.”
Mona settled back into her seat and considered his word choice. Did she want to become acquainted? It would be safer to keep the conversation general. Her exit plan from Minneapolis changed so fast it blurred. Get to Eau Claire. Walk away clean from Mr. Lincoln Dray. Find a cheap, safe place to spend the night. Then—big question without answers. “Sometimes I talk too much.”
“I’ve been guilty of the opposite.” He settled the van behind an eighteen-wheeler and gestured toward her footrest. “Tell me about Mona Smith and her college backpack.”
“Culinary student.” The words popped out before her brain could arrange an evasive response. “I’m trying for duel certificates in culinary and restaurant management. But school’s been put on indefinite hold.”
