by Kathy Ivan
He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Rafe’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, Rafe shrugged and murmured “sorry” before answering.
“Hello.” There was a warmth in his voice, which immediately told Antonio it was somebody Rafe knew and cared about on the other end of the phone. “No, don’t touch anything. Lock the doors, and we’ll be right over.”
“Trouble?”
Rafe nodded. “Maybe. Looks like there might be a break-in. I need you to drive.”
“No problem. Where to?”
Rafe’s gaze met his. “Serena’s place.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Something big was in the air. Big Jim could practically taste it. Like anticipation of something just out of reach, a prized toy dangling beyond his fingertips. If he reached for it too soon, somebody would snatch it away. But he could wait. He’d learned to be infinitely patient since being locked behind these walls. Not for much longer, though. Freedom hovered just beyond his grasp, growing closer each day, tantalizing him with the possibilities awaiting him when he walked out a free man, with the world at his feet.
The long stretch of hallway taunted him, the stretch from his cell like an endless tunnel, the putrid color an affront to his senses, and he stumbled, grabbing onto the wall to steady his balance. The muffled chuckle from the guard stabbed at him, mocking him at the overwhelming sense of powerlessness of being incarcerated in this stinking hole in Colorado. As much as he hated the chains they slapped on him every time he had to walk the dank, dreary halls to meet with his lawyer, he smirked at the thought one day they’d come off for the last time. Never again would he breathe the fetid stench of confinement behind prison walls. He yearned to feel sunlight on his face, drink in the luxury of going where he pleased, answerable to no one but himself.
Drury better have good news this time. He was tired of nothing but failures with each visit. Everything depended on finding his niece. Her ingenuity at outwitting the lackwits in witness protection still amused him. It also infuriated him, because she’d become the elusive prize hindering his every move. The MacGuffin in his Hitchcock drama, but not for much longer.
Sitting in the hard chair, he remained still as the guard took off his shackles. Physical encounters with the guards resulted in nothing more than solitary confinement and punishments for what they alleged was bad behavior. The lily-livered wimps didn’t know the meaning of the term. He’d played nice thus far. If only they knew what he had in store for them once he was free, they’d cower from him in abject terror.
It was another couple of minutes before Drury came through the doorway. Face flushed, he looked both excited and terrified. He came in empty-handed. The prison rules stated he couldn’t bring in his briefcase or even a cell phone, nothing the prisoner might take. Little did the guards know, things like phones, drugs, and other illegal items could be easily obtained inside their hallowed walls if the price was right. Sometimes he wondered at the naiveté of the United States judicial system. Wondered at it, but utilized it to his advantage.
“Sir, I wish I had better news.”
Definitely wasn’t the start of the conversation Big Jim had anticipated. No, he’d been certain Drury would come bearing good news this time, not the same old nothing. His hands clenched into fists beneath the table, and he breathed deeply, struggling to regain his composure. The guard stood right outside the door, glaring through the glass panel, waiting for him to make the slightest mistake. This guard in particular always seemed to delight in tormenting him. Chuck something or other. He’d make sure Chuck and his family became one of the first to feel his wrath, once he was free again.
“Spit it out, Drury.”
“We’ve done everything we can to access the account in the Cayman Islands, the one under Sharon’s name. We can’t touch it.”
He gritted his teeth. Dealing with incompetents put him in a really bad mood. “Why?”
“The bank, located on Grand Cayman, won’t release any funds without Sharon Berkley being present in person. The bank president stated the way the account was set up, the account requires in-person access only.”
“Impossible.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “What moron thought that was a good idea? I certainly didn’t authorize it.” Drawing in a calming breath, Big Jim leaned back in the chair and struggled to maintain control. He was so tired of dealing with other people’s stupidity. “Have one of the hackers get into that account, and transfer the money to another. Create a new one the feds don’t know about. It’s not rocket science.”
Drury fumbled with the knot of his tie, his breath coming faster, face bright red. At the visible shaking of his hands, Big Jim leaned back in his chair. If he intimidated the little weasel too much, Drury might have a heart attack, and then he’d be back to square one. No, he was too close to getting it all to screw up now.
“The…the hackers can’t get in. There’s some kind of new software the bank instituted to prevent fraudulent access. They’re working on it, I swear! I…I don’t understand how the account got set up for in-person access only.”
Big Jim tapped his fingertips against the tabletop, trying to think back to when the account was created. It happened right before the feds arrested him. He kept a tight rein on the flow of funds, incoming and outgoing. Money was power, and he craved power like a politician craved popularity. Nobody pulled a fast one on him and lived to tell about it. Nobody. Nothing had been done differently he could remember. His brother-in-law transferred the money to a brand new account in the Caymans. Could he have screwed things up? Too bad he wasn’t around to ask him.
“Abner was the last person to touch the account. If it’s screwed up, he’s the one. We gotta get somebody down to Grand Cayman with fake ID, pretending to be Sharon, and get access those funds.”
“Umm, I…we already tried. I had my wife…she put on a wig and contacts, and had fake ID…passport, driver’s license. They wouldn’t—”
“Idiot! Your wife couldn’t pass for Sharon. Even a blind man could tell they aren’t the same person. She’s gotta be what, seventy-five to a hundred pounds bigger? Of course it didn’t work.”
“It should have. I mean…how would the bank even know what Sharon looks like?”
Big Jim closed his eyes and prayed for patience. They needed to deliver him from having to work with stupid people, because that’s all he seemed to be surrounded with these days. He didn’t understand Drury’s incompetence. In the courtroom, the man was a shark who rarely lost a case. He intimidated opposing counsel on a routine basis with his knowledge and preparedness. But whenever he got around Big Jim, he cowered like a little mouse, afraid of his own shadow.
“All anybody had to do was do a quick Google search. Sharon’s pictures are all over the internet from the trial, moron.”
“Oh. I didn’t think about that. Sorry.” Drury hung his head, but then shot up out of his chair. “But, I do have some good news—I think.” He shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out what looked like pages from a magazine. They were wadded up and wrinkled, and he shoved then toward Big Jim.
“What’s this?”
“You know my wife gets all those fancy magazines, right?” Drury’s voice was laced with excitement. “Stacks and stacks of them, they arrive in the mail all month long. Anyway, she was looking through this magazine and showed me this.”
Big Jim smoothed the creases out of the paper before looking at the glossy pages in his hand. The thud of his heartbeat sounded loud in his ears, racing, thumping faster and faster. He blinked twice to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, because the picture in his hand looked like—Sharon. His niece. The traitorous witch who’d sold him out to the feds. The woman who’d made his life a living nightmare for the last several years.
“Where is she?”
“It’s her, right? I mean…she looks different. The hair’s a different color, and you can only see part of her face, but I swear it’s her.”
Big Jim slowly rose
from his chair. “I asked where she is?”
Drury gulped. “Texas.” At Big Jim’s silent stare, he continued. “A small town called Shiloh Springs…looks like she’s working in real estate…if it’s her. I had one of your men search her place. He’s a pro, so he didn’t leave any evidence behind he’d even been there. He’s good, I swear! He didn’t find anything to prove it’s her, but—”
A slow smile spread across Big Jim’s lips. “It’s her.”
Drury slumped into the chair he’d vacated, placing his hands on the table. “What do you…want me…us…to do, boss?”
Big Jim closed his eyes, and allowed the feeling of euphoria to spread throughout him. Finally, after all these months of dreaming about getting the duplicitous, backstabbing witch back in his orbit, he had her.
“Find her—and kill her.”
CHAPTER NINE
Antonio pulled into a parking space a few slots down from Serena’s townhouse, and slammed on the brakes. Rafe hadn’t said another word after taking the call, not even when Antonio exceeded the speed limit—by a lot. Which told him whatever was happening, it was serious.
Rafe flung open the passenger door the second the car rocked to a stop, with Antonio seconds behind. Before they reached the townhouse’s front door, it was flung open, Serena highlighted in the opening. Her paleness made him want to pull her into his arms, shelter her from whatever’d caused her distress.
“You gonna let me in, Serena?” Rafe gently touched her arm, and Serena started, her eyes wide with fright.
“I—sorry, come in.” She stepped back, allowing them inside. Rafe immediately began looking around the living room, though Antonio wasn’t sure exactly what he was searching for. Serena stood there, her arms wrapped around her midsection, a slight hitch in her breathing the only indication of her nervousness. Something had spooked her, though he didn’t have a clue what it might have been.
“Talk me through what happened.” Rafe’s voice when he spoke was soft, filled with concern. “What makes you think somebody’s been in your home?”
Antonio stiffened at his brother’s words. He’d forgotten Rafe mentioned something about a possible break-in when he’d gotten the phone call. Somebody had been here? This was Serena’s home. Her safe place. “Somebody’s been here?”
Rafe shot him a look, telling him without words to shut his pie hole. Antonio raised his hands, telling his brother he’d gotten the message. This was Rafe’s job, his jurisdiction, and he’d play along. For now.
“I met with Tessa, Jill, and Beth earlier. Had a girls’ morning at Daisy’s place. Then I ran a few errands. Picked up some groceries, general chore stuff. I didn’t notice anything amiss until I sat down and put my feet up.” She pointed to the coffee table. “Things were out of place. Here and here.” She touched the tray with the remotes and a small plant.
“How do you know they’d been moved?”
Serena gave a shaky laugh. “I tend to be a little—okay, a lot—OCD at times. I line things up so they’re symmetrical or centered. These were right where they were supposed to be this morning, but now they’re not. Am I making sense?”
Rafe nodded. “Is there anything else out of place?”
Serena stood, and motioned down the hall. “I didn’t check the guest room in depth, but a few things are out of place in there, too. But, in my bedroom—” she broke off speaking and closed her eyes, drawing in another shaky breath.
“Show me, please.”
Antonio couldn’t help noticing how well his brother handled Serena. He treated her with kid gloves, making her feel safe and taking her concerns seriously. His brother was darned good at his job. It was tough keeping his mouth shut, especially after what he’d discovered about Serena’s alter ego. He was sure things could and would be discussed once Rafe figured out what was going on. He’d started to tell Rafe anyway before they’d been interrupted, because A) he was the county sheriff and doing his job, and B) it might be related to what he’d found out about Big Jim’s case.
He followed close behind Rafe and Serena, his gaze focused on her. He knew she had a backbone of steel most of the time, but this invasion of her home definitely had her spooked, though she was doing a good job of trying to hide the fact. Stopping in the doorway of her bedroom, he couldn’t help looking around. He fantasized about being in Serena’s room, though under distinctly different circumstances.
The room itself was big enough for a king-sized bed, covered with a dark turquoise spread. Accent pillows adorned the top. He’d never understood the need women had for adding so many frou-frou pillows on their bed. They always ended up on the floor when you climbed in bed anyway. Seemed like a waste, but at least the ones she’d chosen were nice. Silver lamps sat atop nightstands on either side of the bed. The headboard and footboard were white, which gave the room a beachy feel. It wasn’t what he’d pictured for her, yet somehow it fit her personality.
“At first, I didn’t notice anything, not like in the other rooms. Not until I saw this.” She pointed to the bra strap caught on the drawer. “I definitely didn’t leave it like that this morning.” Again she wrapped her arms around her midsection, and Antonio fought the urge to pull her close and wrap his own arms around her. “I made sure not to touch anything, once I realized somebody had been here. In case you wanted to check for fingerprints or whatever.”
“Exactly what we’re going to do, Serena.” Rafe pulled out his cell, then met Antonio’s gaze. “Why don’t you two go back to the living room while I call my team to come and take a look?”
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s do what Rafe says. The faster the techs get here, the faster we’ll figure out who did this.” Antonio gave his brother a brisk nod, and placed his hand on the small of Serena’s back, gently steering her back to the living room. With the light touch, he could feel her body trembling beneath his hand, belying the calm exterior she tried to project.
“Okay.”
He eased her down onto the sofa, and sat beside her, taking her hands between his. They felt icy cold, and he gently rubbed them, holding them until he felt the warmth return.
“Do you have any idea who might have gotten into your place?”
She shook her head, her eyes locked onto the floor. It was funny how she’d barely looked at him since they’d gotten here, which seemed kinda odd. They were friends—at least he thought they were, even though he’d wanted more. Until he’d seen her picture in that stupid FBI file. Now everything was topsy-turvy and he didn’t know up from down, because the woman he knew, the Serena Snowden who’d come to Shiloh Springs a little less than a year ago, was the complete opposite of Sharon Berkley. Didn’t matter; he had a job to do, an oath he had to fulfil, which meant turning Sharon Berkley, aka Serena Snowden, over to the feds. Bet SAC Williamson never expected to get results this fast, he mused.
Before he could ask anything else, a loud knock sounded on the door of the townhouse. Serena’s body jerked at the sound, and he took her hand in his again. He heard Rafe’s heavy tread against the hardwoods, and knew he’d get the door.
“Don’t worry. It’s just the tech guys, here to do their thing. Get fingerprints, gather evidence. You know, all the stuff you see on television.”
Serena gave a shaky laugh. “You always said the stuff they show on television is complete garbage. Nobody does things the way Hollywood portrays it.”
“True. But they do need to make sure they double check everything, see if whoever was here left behind anything that might give us an idea who it was. Maybe fibers from clothing, fingerprints, or DNA evidence. It shouldn’t take long.” He ran his hand along her cheek. Her skin felt like the finest silk beneath his touch. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink maybe?”
She struggled to stand, but he stopped her with a touch. “I should—”
“You stay here and let me take care of you, okay? I’m pretty sure I know where the kitchen is and can find the glasses.”
She smiled, finally meeting his gaze. �
�Thank you.”
He paused long enough to watch Rafe direct Dusty and Judith, both from the sheriff’s office, toward Serena’s bedroom, before heading to the kitchen and getting Serena a drink. Her kitchen was beautiful with bright white cabinetry and quartz countertops. It looked modern, like something out of a magazine, and the complete opposite of what he’d expect Serena to like. Oh, he got it she’d want modern amenities, what woman didn’t? He remembered his mother and sister going on and on about tiles, granite, and backsplashes until he’d been ready to pull his hair out when they’d redone the kitchen at the Big House, but somehow this kitchen didn’t suit his Serena. It seemed too—stark, almost sterile. There were no personal touches. No cookbooks, no appliances. Not even a potted plant graced the pristine countertops.
Walking back into the living room, he handed the water to Serena and glanced around the space. Here, too, he noted a lack of personal touches. Even though she’d been in Shiloh Springs almost a year, there were no photographs, no knick-knacks. Nothing to make it a home, which made him realize she probably didn’t consider it a home. Simply another stop on her run away from Big Jim. He bet if he looked in her closet, he’d find a bag packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice.
“I think it’s a good idea if you come and stay at the Big House for a few days.”
Serena’s head whipped toward him, eyes wide. “What?”
“Somebody’s been in your home. It isn’t safe for you to be here alone.”
“Antonio, I can’t just up and leave my house because somebody broke in. They didn’t steal anything. I’ll—I’ll change the locks. Everything’s going to be fine. I overreacted. Maybe nobody’s been here and I—”
“You know better. Until we know who got into your place, we need to make sure you’re safe.” He paused before adding softly, “I need to be sure you’re safe.”
Serena’s gaze searched his, before she finally looked away, and he read the uncertainty in her face. “It seems a little extreme to put everybody out because I might—might—have had somebody in my place. Maybe I wasn’t as careful as usual. I did leave in a hurry this morning, to meet the girls at Daisy’s Diner.”
