Jack hit the third floor at top speed, racing into the various bathrooms in the darkened hallway. Nothing. When he slammed open the last door, he saw the small handbag that matched Greta’s dress. He grabbed it and exited.
His mind racing, he kept yelling into the silence, hoping the connection would pick back up. He didn’t have time to go back downstairs to find backup. Greta was here, somewhere. And Doyle had her.
He could feel it as surely as he could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage.
Think like a cop! Jack tried to distance himself, tried to forget this was Greta he needed to find. Greta. He was not going to let this happen.
Fremont wouldn’t take her where there was a crowd. The staircase Jack had come up would be out of the question. The other staircases were blocked off, other display rooms locked. All except...he recalled the diagrams of the building. The emergency stairs.
He ran down the hall, made a left. There! He found her ridiculous stilt of a shoe lying discarded in front of the staircase door. He left her purse with it, reached behind him for his weapon and pulled it out.
Carefully, quietly, Jack took a deep breath, centered himself.
And pushed open the door.
* * *
“Stop. You have to stop,” Greta gasped, trying to slow Fremont down by pulling and dragging him backward. If he got her outside, if he got her onto the roof, there would be nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. “I can’t breathe. I can’t walk.”
“Fine.” He stopped long enough to bend down and yank her second shoe off. He threw it over the side of the staircase and took the last step at record pace. Hope burst to life when Greta saw the emergency bar. But when he shoved through it, the alarm didn’t blare. Rain shot in through the open door as Fremont yanked her forward and sent her flying into the storm.
Soaked, Greta caught herself before she fell and tried to run, but he was too fast. He had his hand locked around her arm like a vise as he dragged her to the edge of the roof. Lightning snapped across the dark sky. Thick gray clouds sat heavy above downtown as thunder echoed and exploded around them.
“No!” She dropped low, pushed back with her bare feet and fought even as asphalt and rocks dug into her suddenly frozen skin.
“Stay there!” He released her and aimed the gun at her. “Just stay there.”
The wildness in his eyes made her own panic grow. He was out of his mind, fueled by determination and rage.
“I still have a chance to salvage this.” He cocked the hammer. She could barely hear him over the rain. “I can still get away. They’ll all be thinking of you. The sad, mentally frail artist who couldn’t take the pressure of success.” He moved forward. “Now step up.”
“No.” Greta felt the ledge pressing against the back of her legs. Her hair dripped water into her face, and she swiped her hand over her eyes to keep her vision clear. “I won’t jump. I won’t make this easy for you. You won’t get a penny. Not from me. Not from Lyndon.” She touched the device in her ear again. And prayed. “You’re finished. However this plays out, you’re done.” She looked behind her. Her stomach dropped as she glanced down and noted a half-dozen patrol cars with spinning lights and blaring sirens screech to a stop on the wet streets below.
Time seemed to slow. Her life, all those moments, all the pain and sorrow but also the joy and the successes, it would all come to an end. Could come to an end. Either by her stepping off the building’s ledge or from Doyle Fremont’s weapon.
She wasn’t ready. She sobbed, an almost hysterical smile forming as she forced a laugh. She wanted to live. She wanted to live a life with Jack. With his friends and his family. She wanted to be a part of something bigger than she’d ever experienced before. For as long as she had.
Her spine stiffened. She lowered her arms, which she’d held out to stave off Fremont. With the rain pouring down, she slowly faced him. “I won’t help you.”
She stepped away from the ledge.
“You can’t force me to jump. I have too much to live for. But you have nothing. There’s nothing left, Doyle.” Anger built, exploding out with her words. “You’ve manipulated and conned people long enough. You killed the only family I had left. And for what? For money?”
“I had to kill him. Lyndon was a fool. He was going to tell you everything! He didn’t understand the power of secrets. He let sentimentality and his feelings for your mother get in the way.”
“His feelings for...” Pieces of her life fell into place. “Of course.” She closed her eyes. “He loved her.” No wonder he’d never married, never had a family of his own. Lyndon had loved Greta’s mother.
“If you won’t jump, you’ll leave me no choice.” Doyle lifted the gun another inch.
“And you’ll leave me none.”
Greta cried out as Jack stepped from the shadows, weapon raised and locked on Doyle. His wet tuxedo jacket shimmered against the moonlight. Despite the water pelting him, his hand and gun were steady. “Jack.”
Jack moved in, circled around until he stood beside her. With Doyle’s attention on them both, Doyle didn’t see the shadows moving in behind him. Vince and Cole, both with their weapons drawn, their footfalls silenced by the storm.
“He confessed,” Greta said, and Jack drew her around, forcing Doyle to circle closer to the edge of the roof.
“We know.” Jack nodded. “That backup mic we wired you with did the trick. Max got it all.”
Relief surged through her. “Then, it’s over.”
“No,” Doyle Fremont said and raised his gun. “It’s not.”
Suddenly, Jack grabbed Greta around the waist, bringing her down to the ground just as Fremont fired.
“Police, Fremont!” Cole yelled, as Fremont spun and fired off a second shot.
Greta watched in horror as Cole and Vince both fired.
And hit Fremont square in the chest. He staggered away and turned. Blood spread and bloomed across his chest. For a moment, Fremont looked confused, as if it wasn’t possible that he could have been hit. He stumbled back...
Jack pushed to his feet and launched himself forward, but it was too late.
Doyle was at the ledge of the roof and still moving, before he dropped out of sight.
Screams and cries ripped through the air before a sickening thud echoed up.
“We okay?” Cole demanded, racing forward.
“I’m good.” Jack said and bent down to pluck Greta up off the ground as if she didn’t weigh a thing.
She was drenched, a sopping mess, tears of fear mingling with the rain. But she was alive.
“Greta?” He cupped her face in his hands, looked into her eyes. “You okay? Did he hurt you? Are you—”
“I’m fine.” A weight she didn’t realize she’d been carrying lifted. “He wanted me to jump. He really thought if I did, he’d get it all. There was no...reasoning with him.” She shook her head. “How could he not see...?”
Jack pulled her into his arms, wrapped her tightly against him. She held on to him, breathed him in. And smiled even as she trembled a little.
“The next time you have to go to the bathroom, tell me.”
She laughed as he led her out of the storm. Laughed because she was alive. Because she was with him. Because she loved Jack McTavish and he loved her.
“Jack, wait.” She stopped before he could open the door to the stairs. “I love you.”
“Yeah.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I know.”
She scrunched her nose. “We back to Star Wars again?”
“Always,” he grinned and pressed his lips to her temple.
“Marry me.”
“What?” Jack jerked back and blinked down at her. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, Jack.” With her hands on his chest, she locked her eyes on his, she embraced the storm and h
er greatest fear. “I don’t want to be alone. For however long we have, I want it.”
“Fat chance of you being afraid with all of us around,” Cole said, as he and Vince joined them at the door.
She caught Jack’s face in her hands, drew him down until he pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to wake up one more morning without you by my side. I love you, Jack McTavish. Please say you’ll marry me.”
He grinned. “Okay.”
“Well, that’s romantic,” Vince chimed in.
“Tomorrow?” Greta whispered. “City Hall? I have an in with the mayor.”
“So do I. Tomorrow.” He stroked her cheek. “In the loft. With our family and friends.”
“Our home?”
“If you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.” She kissed him, then laughed as he dipped her backward. “I don’t mind at all.”
Epilogue
The next day...
“So, something’s been bothering me about this whole Fremont thing.” Simone held out her champagne glass for a refill.
Silence fell at her statement, and Jack, ever mindful of his friends’ capacity for good deeds, hugged his bride of two hours against his side. The loft, thanks to everyone’s work, had been transformed into a fairy world reminiscent of Evergreen, the painting of Greta’s that had cost him a couple months’ salary. Lush greenery abounded, and twinkling lights glistened. Cerberus strutted, and laughter filled the loft that only weeks before had housed only one heart. Now it housed countless. His friends. Hers. A perfect day.
He looked over at Greta, barefoot, her hair tied and twisted into braids and curls around her beaming face. The white flowing dress she wore was simple, with a high waist and delicate straps, and perfectly suited to her natural beauty. She looked radiant. She looked happy. And at peace. What more could he ask for?
“Is this a toast?” Kyla asked and nudged Jason Sutton with her elbow. “Should I get this on video?”
“No, you shouldn’t.” Simone suggested with an odd grin. “Given the short notice, it was hard to find a good gift, but I think I managed.”
“Of course she did,” Eden grumbled.
“I debated about doing this in private, but, seeing as we’ll all find out eventually anyway... Greta, when you had me contact Lyndon’s lawyer about his estate, he overnighted me the contents of Lyndon’s safety deposit box. The rest is back at my office, but this I thought you’d like to see now.”
Greta handed off her glass to Yvette, who had brought along her husband. It would only be a couple more weeks before the couple jetted off to Singapore.
“What is it?” Greta accepted the envelope, slipped her finger under the seal.
“Doyle said that Lyndon was going to tell you the truth. That there was power in secrets. This is the truth, Greta. This is what Lyndon wanted you to finally know.”
Jack read over Greta’s shoulder, his mind spinning. “This can’t be true,” she whispered, but the sob that erupted from her had her covering her mouth. She turned to him then, tears glistening in her eyes. “But...he never told me. My parents never—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what is it?” Allie, in an uncharacteristic move, snatched the paper from Greta’s hands and read. “Oh. Oh, Greta.”
“I’m adopted?” Greta’s voice sounded as dismayed as Jack felt.
“Lyndon only found out after your parents’ death,” Simone explained. “They had to go overseas. No adoption agency would ever have put a child in your mother’s care, but they found you. Whatever else happened, Greta, they chose you.” Simone offered a smile.
Greta took a long breath, pressed a hand against her chest. “Oh, Jack. You know what this means?” She touched his face as his heart swelled with joy.
“I think it means our baby’s going to have company soon,” Eden chimed in and earned a hearty laugh from the guests.
“No. I mean yes,” Greta said through the tears. “But it means something else, right, Jack?”
“It does.” He kissed her, and his world settled. “It means we get forever.”
* * *
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Colton 911: Agent By Her Side
by Deborah Fletcher Mello
Chapter 1
“Happy birthday, Special Agent Winston!”
FBI Special Agent Cooper Winston looked up from the files on his desk. “Thank you, Agent Miller,” he said, tossing a smile at the regal black woman who stood in the doorway of his office. “I thought I’d done a good job of keeping that a secret.”
She chuckled softly. “I think you’re good. I just remembered that you and my youngest daughter share the same birthday. She turned thirty-four today, but don’t tell her I told you that!”
Cooper gestured for her to enter, pointing her to an upholstered chair in front of his desk. He and Claire Miller had worked together since he’d been transferred from the FBI’s main office in Detroit to Grand Rapids on Ionia Avenue. She had backed him up on his first case and they’d been good friends ever since. He couldn’t imagine the resident agency without her bright personality keeping them all on their toes.
Cooper laughed. “Your secret is safe with me!”
“So, how old are you now?” the older woman questioned, eyeing him with a raised brow.
Cooper smiled a second time. “This year makes forty.”
“A milestone birthday! We should be celebrating that with cake and champagne in the break room.”
He shook his head and waved a hand. “That’s what we’re not going to do,” he said. “You and I are going to keep this between us and remain good friends as we do.”
A bright smile filled her dark face. “I understand completely. I’ll be a year closer to retirement and my pension on my next birthday.”
“How long have you been with the agency?”
“Twenty-six years next month.”
“Wow! Now you’ve definitely earned that pension but you don’t look anywhere close to qualifying for retirement. We might need to check your birth certificate,” he said teasingly.
“Aren’t you sweet! They say a woman shouldn’t share her age, but when you consider the alternative, I’m proud to tell people I’m fifty-four, almost fifty-five years young.”
“I’d be proud, too, if I looked as good!”
Claire laughed warmly. “So, how is that beautiful baby boy of yours?”
Cooper’s smile widened. He reached for the framed photo on his desk, passing it to the woman. “Alfie is doing very well. He keeps me on my toes!”
“Isn’t he precious! Look how big he’s gotten! I swear, they grow up too fast.”
“No one warns you about that when they’re born.”
She laughed. “No, they surely don’t.” She passed the image back to him. “I hear you caught the RevitaYou case? How’s that going?”
Cooper nodded, pointing to the stack of files he’d been reviewing when she knocked on his door. “I did. And it’s not. I could have used your expertise tracking down my bad guy but they tell me you’re hunting down that serial killer.”
“Bagged him earlier this morning. We caught him in the act and now I have a boatload of paperwork to do and a trial to help the DA prepare for before I catch another assignment.”
“Nice work, Agent!”
“Thank you. I appreciate tha
t. Especially coming from you. I’ll get out of your hair,” Claire said. “I just wanted to say hello and acknowledge your day.”
“I really appreciate that. Thank you.”
“You’re one of the good ones, Cooper. Keep doing what you do!”
As Claire made her exit, Cooper turned back to the paperwork that was proving to be problematic. Despite the information in each of the file folders, he was no closer to finding the now infamous Wes Matthews than he’d been when the case was first dropped in his lap.
Wes Matthews had been the brain trust behind RevitaYou, a supplement that promised to be the fountain of youth for users and a pot of gold for investors. The drug itself had been created by renowned chemist Landon Street. Initial forensic tests showed that RevitaYou was chock-full of vitamins and minerals, but also tested positive for ricin, an extremely deadly poison.
Ricin was found naturally in castor beans. It could also be made from the waste material left over from processing castor oil. Street had discovered that the initial oil compound he created did wonders for smoothing wrinkles, but somewhere along the way, the self-professed healer became “the Toxic Scientist,” as the media dubbed him, doing harm to those he claimed to want to help. He had purposely poisoned people. Multiple deaths had been attributed to RevitaYou and both Street and Matthews were now in the wind. But not before Wes Matthews had disappeared with millions from unsuspecting backers in a pyramid investment scheme. Now, finding both Matthews and Street was at the top of Cooper’s to-do list.
He sighed, warm breath blowing past his lips. Frustration furrowed his thick brow. Since the start of this case he’d hit one dead end after another. Before Claire had walked into his office he’d been ready to fling the folders across the room. Now, he just needed to refocus, get back to work, and hope there were no more distractions.
* * *
“FBI tip line. How can we help you?” Kiely Colton said. She did her best to keep her expression staid, although her disposition that day was less than stellar.
Guarding His Midnight Witness Page 23
