Hart, Catherine

by Impulsive

  "What about Corey and Gabe?" Jess asked. "All four of us were together this time. Shouldn't they be protected as well?"

  "If we decide that's the best route," Haggardy told her.

  "What's your—"

  Ty's words were cut off in mid-stream as the cruiser, slowing for a traffic sign, was suddenly struck from the rear.

  "What the—" Regaining his balance, Haggardy looked out the window to see a car careening past them on the right. A few yards farther, it plowed into a light pole and stopped.

  "Hey!" Jess shouted. "That's my car!" Automatically, she reached for the rear door handle, only to find there wasn't one.

  Haggardy leapt from the cruiser before it had come to a complete stop. "You two stay here!" he directed them. To the officer, he commanded, "Call this in, and get another cruiser on the way to take us on to headquarters."

  He loped toward Jess's wrecked car. Within a minute, he was back. "Agerter hit the steering wheel. The air bag must have been disabled. If he didn't break a couple of ribs, they're at least bruised. Says he couldn't stop. When he pressed on the brakes, there were none. Which would lead me to guess that our murderer is trying to cover all of his bases at once. If the sauna didn't get you, the car would. Failing that, your arrest. This is one busy felon."

  "Or more," Ty reminded him. "There have to be at least two, don't there? One here, tinkering with Jess's brakes, and another in New Jersey?"

  "Not necessarily. He could have phoned in the tip from New Jersey, and he could have hurried to the parking lot ahead of you and cut the brake line on Jess's car. It only takes a minute."

  Jess spoke up, her voice an octave higher than usual. "I'm glad Agerter wasn't hurt more seriously, but that was a brand-new car! I haven't even learned to use all the gadgets, yet!"

  Haggardy merely shook his head. "Hope you have good insurance."

  Corey and Gabe arrived, and they all sat down with Haggardy to discuss various options and ramifications, the main objective to see that they all survived until their enemy was caught. After taking so much time off work while Gabe was recovering, Corey was reluctant to miss the upcoming fashion show.

  "It's not so much that I need the money, or the exposure," she explained, "but my agency is already having fits that I've cancelled so many appearances. They need to know they can rely on me. Besides which, the proceeds from this show are being donated to a children's charity. Also, if I'm in New York, apart from the Knights, I should be safe. Shouldn't I? I really want to do this, if possible."

  "Then I suggest you hire a personal bodyguard," Haggardy recommended.

  "I'll be her bodyguard," Gabe insisted. "We can leave after Thursday's game, hop a direct flight from Chicago to New York, and Corey will still have plenty of time to get ready for the show Saturday night."

  Haggardy frowned. "Thursday is Thanksgiving. The Knights have a game scheduled?"

  Ty nodded. "Against the Bears. After which, Jess and I intend to go to Kentucky to spend the remainder of the holiday with my folks."

  Haggardy mulled this over. "That might be for the best. Get you out of town, out of the limelight, out of sight completely for a few days. Hopefully, your stalker doesn't know where your family lives—and I am leaning more toward the idea that there's only one assailant left out there now. Meanwhile, until the game, I want you all to lie low and remain vigilant. No unnecessary jaunts to the grocery or the video store. Stay in, lock your doors, make yourselves as invisible as possible.

  "On a brighter note," he continued, "we received some interesting data from Miami while you were out of town. They've arrested the man who killed Bambi Shultz. Turns out it was some guy she'd been dating here in Columbus, one of those mafia-wannabe types. This Vince Penny fellow followed her to Miami. Seems he wasn't too thrilled that Bambi still had the hots for Ty, and decided to teach her a lesson."

  "Boy, we were way off the mark on that one, weren't we?" Jess remarked.

  "In that aspect, yes, but Penny did confirm that Bambi was the one who dosed your drink. She also talked him into making a hit on you a while back. The things a guy won't do for a piece of... love, huh?"

  Jess frowned. "You lost me, Haggardy."

  "That drive-by shooting. Penny and some of his friends were behind that, only they accidentally got Alan instead of you. After that goof up, they backed off. Penny decided it wasn't worth messing with, since Bambi was starting to show signs of having a roving eye."

  "What about all the things that happened later?" Ty asked. "Not to the rest of the team, but aimed at Jess. Her apartment getting wrecked, the threats, her brakes?"

  "Nope. They arrested Penny Thursday night. He was still in Miami, taking a little vacation, as it were, when Jess's place was hit. And I doubt his mobster buddies were involved. Why would they only take Jess's computer discs? No, our guy is closer to home, someone affiliated with the team. Someone right under our noses, who has a score to settle."

  At this point, a patrolman motioned to Haggardy from across the room. "Stay put a minute," Haggardy told them. "Let me see what he wants; then I'll arrange for a squad car to follow you to your homes, just to make sure you get there with no further mishaps."

  Jess glanced wearily at her watch. It read nine-fifty, though it felt more like midnight. "This day seems like it's lasted a week," she sighed. "I'll be glad to see it end."

  That was not to be—not just yet. Haggardy's expression was grim as he returned to his desk. "Danvers phoned," he stated. "He was trying to get hold of you, Jess. There's been some trouble at your godfather's house."

  "At Tommy's?" she echoed. "What sort of trouble? Is anyone hurt?"

  "Your godmother was killed this evening, about half an hour ago."

  Jess gaped at him. "Anita? Dead? How?"

  Ty immediately asked, "What about Tom? Had he made it home from the airport yet? Has he been notified?"

  "He was there," Haggardy said. "Physically, he's fine, but I understand he's pretty much in a state of shock."

  "What happened?" Corey queried.

  "Danvers didn't know much, just that the officers at the scene couldn't contact Jess, so they called him to see if he could locate her for Nelson. I called down to the desk and got more information. Seems there was a bomb hidden in a florist's box. You know, the long kind they use to deliver roses? It went off when Jess's godmother and her nurse were opening it. Killed both of them."

  Jess shook her head in disbelief. "I don't understand. Why would anyone want to kill Anita?"

  "To hurt you?" Gabe suggested lamely.

  "But she wasn't even my godmother," Jess protested. "I loved her like one, but she only married Tommy about six years ago."

  "Could be Tom Nelson was the actual target," Haggardy proposed thoughtfully. "It would fit the pattern, since he's one of the team owners. He told the investigating officers that he found the box on the front porch when he arrived home. He took it inside, handed it over to the women, and headed straight for the bathroom. That's where he was when the explosion took place in the kitchen."

  "That doesn't add up," Ty commented. "Florists don't normally deliver on Sundays. Even if they did, why wasn't the box already in the house? Why was it still on the doorstep this late at night? Wasn't Tom the least suspicious?"

  Haggardy shrugged. "I guess not. Maybe he was too tired to question it, or to make that connection. Could be he assumed someone stopped by the house to visit and left it there when no one answered the door."

  "But, someone is home with Anita all the time," Jess refuted. "Why wouldn't they answer the door?"

  "Maybe they didn't hear the bell," Gabe suggested.

  Corey agreed. "If the dishwasher was going, or the vacuum, or the nurse was helping Anita in the bathroom, they could easily have missed hearing it."

  "We're straying from the main point," Haggardy said, "which is that someone wired the box with explosives and deposited it on the Nelsons' porch to be found."

  "And poor Anita and her nurse are dead," Jess finished, fr
esh tears springing to her eyes. "I can't believe this! I just can't believe it! Anita was the kindest, dearest woman. She wouldn't harm a moth if it was eating the clothes off her back. And she was so talented. She was a concert pianist, you know, before the Alzheimer's hit and she had to give it up."

  Haggardy's brow rose. "She had Alzheimer's?"

  "What a crying shame," Gabe added. "Who would do such a thing to a helpless, harmless woman?"

  "A ruthless, craven killer, with no conscience whatsoever," Ty concluded somberly.

  Corey leaned from her seat to Jess's, to give her friend a consoling hug. "If it's any comfort, Jess, think of her in God's hands now, with a new and perfect body. In heaven, there is no sickness or sadness."

  Ty stood, holding out his hand to Jess. "C'mon, babe. Let's go home. I'll fix you a hot toddy and tuck you into bed."

  "Not yet." She raised sorrowful eyes to his. "First I've got to see Tommy. Even if we have been on the outs lately, he's still family. He needs to know that I care, that he's not alone in his grief."

  Jess felt bad about not being able to spend more time with Tommy before Anita's funeral late Wednesday afternoon, but everyone, including her godfather, was adamant that she remain in the background as much as possible. She did so primarily for Tommy, who claimed he would be prostrate with grief if anything were to happen to her, too, especially on the heels of Anita's demise.

  Thursday being a holiday, the funeral was held on Wednesday. Despite having to rush the arrangements and burial, there were a sizable number of mourners, some arriving from as far away as Vienna. In addition to family, friends, neighbors, and Tom's business acquaintances, many were fellow musicians who had known or performed with Anita throughout the years. They had come to pay their respects, to applaud her one last time.

  Following the grave-site service, Jess and Claudia approached Tom. "We won't be coming to the dinner at the church," Jess told him regretfully, taking his big cold hand in hers. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I wish there was something I could do to make it better, easier. Are you going to be okay?"

  Tom nodded, patting her hand. "I'll make it, Jessie girl. Somehow. It's just... why did this have to happen now? I mean... with the holidays coming up. It's so damned hard!" His eyes filled with tears. "I was going to start my Christmas shopping this weekend. Look for something really special for her."

  Claudia stepped forward. "Tom, you shouldn't be alone right now. I've been through this. I know. Why don't you drive up to my house tomorrow, have dinner with John and me? We can watch the game together on television."

  "It's good of you to ask me, but I doubt I'd be good company." Tom sighed. "I'd rather be by myself, but I suppose you're right about not spending the day holed up in the house by myself. I can't bear to go anywhere near the kitchen, where... where..." He took a moment to compose himself. "If I don't take my nephew up on his invitation, I'll probably grab a bite to eat at a restaurant somewhere. Or... might wander down to the soup kitchen and volunteer some time, like I used to do. Remind myself that others are hurting, too, and in worse need than I am."

  "That sounds like a fine idea," Claudia agreed. "But if you change your mind, just call. God knows, there will be enough food, and hardly anyone to eat it, what with Jess in Chicago."

  "I'll wave to you, Mom," Jess promised, "and to you, Tommy. I know you won't be attending the game, but you will be watching it, won't you?"

  "Yeah, I suppose," he replied dispiritedly. "It'll help pass the time, if nothing else."

  The rest of the team had flown out Wednesday morning, after paying their respects at the funeral home. Tom had voiced his appreciation, and wished them well at the game. He'd assured Danvers and the other coaches that he didn't expect them or the players to attend Anita's funeral. They needed to get to Chicago and prepare for the big Thanksgiving game. Only Ty and Jess had remained behind to attend the services. Jess, out of love and regard for Anita and Tom, would have had it no other way, and Ty was not about to go to Chicago without her.

  At first, they had planned on catching a late flight on a regular airline, but holiday travel had the seats all booked. They were considering driving to Chicago, a six- to seven-hour trip, when Keith Forsyth had offered to fly them there on his private jet. The business executive had all but insisted. "I won't have any use for it until Monday, at the earliest," he'd assured them. "My wife has a big family weekend planned."

  "What about your pilot?" Ty had asked. "Doesn't he have holiday plans, too?"

  "I'm sure he does, but his folks live in Evanston. So you see? He'll be going that direction anyway. You might just as well tag along."

  To avoid the worst of the air traffic, the pilot wanted to leave at six o'clock Thursday morning, which would get them into Chicago around seven-thirty or so. Kickoff was at twelve-thirty, so even allotting for any unforeseen delay, they would arrive with hours to spare before the game.

  Jess was still half-asleep as she and Ty boarded the smart little silver jet. "Ugh! The sun's not even up yet," she complained. "I hate going back to Eastern Standard Time in the winter."

  Overhearing her comment from his place in the cockpit, the pilot called back cheerfully. "You'll see a spectacular sunrise as soon as we get off the ground. A bird's-eye view. There's nothing like it on a clear, crisp morning like this. As soon as we're airborne and leveled out, feel free to unbuckle your seat belts and help yourselves to breakfast. There's a fresh pot of coffee in the galley, juice in the fridge, and cinnamon rolls in the microwave. That should tide you over until we hit Chicago."

  "Maybe," Jess muttered past a yawn. "If I don't sleep the whole way."

  The plane was small, but plush. In place of the usual rows of seats, there was a casual arrangement of swivel chairs and tables. The chairs resembled those in Ty's breakfast nook, except they were bolted down. The galley, rather than being partitioned off, was more of a semicircular, bar-type setting, similar to that in the Miami mansion they had rented. Though compact, it seemed to include all the amenities. Even the rest room, which Jess peeked into before strapping herself into her seat, was more than the standard airline hole-in-the-wall. This one had a closet, an actual vanity, and a shower stall.

  "I'm asking for a raise when we land," Jess joked to Ty. "If Forsyth can afford this, he's got money to burn."

  The pilot, finished with his precheck, emerged from the cockpit and headed toward the back of the plane. "Okay, we're all set. Buckle up. I've got to signal the ground crew to remove the stairs, secure the rear door, and we're off."

  "Aren't you going to give us the usual spiel about flotation devices and oxygen masks?" Jess inquired as he passed.

  He grinned. "Nope. I figure as much as you two travel, you could recite it to me, word for word."

  CHAPTER 31

  The pilot had just reached the door, when a man pushed past him onto the plane, lugging his bulging travel bag with him. "I almost missed you," he panted. "Got room for one more?"

  "Sure thing, Mr. Nelson," the pilot greeted. "Welcome aboard."

  Jess turned in surprise. "Tommy! What are you doing here?"

  "That's a stupid question if ever I've heard one," her godfather replied, plopping into a chair. "I'm going to Chicago."

  "But..."

  "Honey, I just couldn't bear that huge, silent house a minute longer. Everything in it reminds me of Anita. So," he said, with a palms-up gesture, "here I am, bag and baggage. I can eat turkey just as well in Chicago as I can here, and be with people I like. Maybe it'll cheer me up some. At any rate, it can't be as bad as sitting at home alone."

  "That's the ticket, Tommy."

  "Will you be coming to the game, too?" Ty inquired.

  "I thought I might," Tom told them. "If it gets to be too much for me, I'll go back to the hotel and cry in my beer."

  There was a short delay while they awaited their turn for takeoff. Then they were up, soaring into the sky. Jess peered out the window. "The pilot was right. Just look at that magnificent sunrise. I hadn't realized we'
d see it right away. It's still dark on the ground."

  "It's the difference in horizontal angle," Tom explained, as he rose and headed for the galley. "Coffee, anyone?"

  He brought the entire carafe back to the table, along with four cups. "Hey, Jimbo!" he called out to the pilot. "You ready for a refill on the java? I'll trade you for a ride in the copilot's seat."

  "Bring it on," came the reply from the cockpit.

  Tom went forward, leaving Ty and Jess to themselves.

  "Does Tom strike you as just a bit too jovial?" Ty asked in a low voice.

  Jess nodded on a sad sigh. "He's trying too hard to put up a good front. I wonder if he's really broken down and cried yet? When Dad and Mike died, it took my grandpa several days for the shock to wear off and reality to set in. You have to let the grief out, before you can start to heal. The longer you hold it in, the worse it gets."

  Jess and Ty were nodding off when Tom rejoined them. "How you doing back here, kids? Catching your forty winks?"

  Ty yawned, not even bothering to open his eyes. "I was wide awake when we took off, but I can barely hold my eyes open now. Must be the change in air pressure."

  "Or the movement of the plane," Jess murmured drowsily from her seat next to him. "It's as lulling as sitting in a rocking chair."

  Her fingers curled around Ty's forearm, giving it a squeeze. Ty smiled. Then he heard the loud rip. His eyes popped open, but not in time. Tom had already secured his other wrist to the armrest, binding it tightly with duct tape—just as he'd done a moment ago when Ty had thought Jess was touching him.

  "Hey! What's the deal here?" Ty exclaimed. He blinked, trying to make sense of it all. His brain was slow to react, his reflexes sluggish. He watched in a daze as Tom swiftly bound first one of Jess's arms, then the other to her own chair. She tried to fight him, to swat his hand away. Tom was stronger, faster. Within seconds he had her secured as well.