by Lis Wiehl
No. Please, no.
Behind Nic, a woman’s nasal voice said, “And the guy was yelling something like, ‘Don’t look at me, I told you not to look at me!’ And he hadn’t said one thing before that about not looking at him. He was wearing a mask, so what difference did it make if she looked at him?”
A young patrol officer standing near the body took in the FBI badge on Nic’s belt and misunderstood her stare. “One of the tellers wouldn’t stop screaming and pointing, so we covered the victim. Don’t worry, it’s one of those sterile sheets the medical examiner has us carry.”
The woman witness continued, “And then he shot her in the chest. He just shot her!”
Nic barely heard her or the patrol officer. All she could do was focus on the shoes protruding from under the white sheet.
The woman said, “And she fell back, but the poor thing was still holding herself up with her hands and staring at her chest. It was like she couldn’t believe it was happening. And then he walked right up to her and leaned down and said something and he shot her again. He shot her again!”
Leif grabbed Nic’s arm and tried to pull her back. She shook him off as the patrol officer stared.
Nic knew those shoes nearly as well as she knew her own. She had been with Allison one Saturday afternoon when she purchased them at Nordstrom. Allison had declared them perfect for court. Two-inch heels, slightly rounded toe, a basic pump that did not call any attention to itself. The last thing you wanted to be in court was flashy, Allison had said, especially if you were representing the United States government. More times than Nic could count, those shoes had rested next to her sensible flats under the prosecutor’s table.
And now those shoes were on a dead woman’s feet.
“Do you know who it is?” asked the young officer. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked from the body back to Nic.
“It’s Allison Pierce. She’s a federal prosecutor.” Nic heard her own voice as if it were coming from somewhere far, far away. “She called and told me there was a bank robbery in progress. She said things were getting bad and then the line was cut off.”
“I’m–I’m sorry,” he stammered.
Nic fell to her knees, not caring how weak it might make her look. She was weak. Too weak to stand. Too weak, almost, to draw another breath.
Nic had never told Allison how much she loved her. Not even after Cassidy died. And now Allison was gone too. And Nic was all alone.
With one finger she touched the slender ankle. Still warm. Her friend’s body hadn’t even had time to figure out that it was dead.
A sob ripped through her. She saw heads turn as coworkers and cops took in the sight of FBI Special Agent Nicole Hedges falling apart and then courteously looked away.
All her friends were dead. She was the only one of the three who would remember all those meals, all that laughter, all those conversations, all the chocolate and butter and sugar and whipped cream they had shared.
The Triple Threat was now no threat at all.
Nic was still in the same position, bowed over Allison’s shoes, her mouth open as her chest heaved, when a touch on her shoulder made her slowly raise her head.
And then Nic’s heart cracked.
Cracked wide open.
CHAPTER 25
Nic stared up at the woman who was touching her shoulder. It was Allison. Allison!
“You’re–you’re alive!”
Allison nodded. The fingers of her other hand were pressed against her lips. Her face was as white as the sheet that covered the body. The body of the woman wearing Allison’s shoes.
Nic jumped up and hugged her. Hugged her hard. It was like embracing a stiff plastic mannequin. Allison kept one hand across her mouth, the other limp at her side. She smelled sour and metallic, like sweat and vomit and blood. It was the sweetest scent Nic had ever smelled.
Finally Nic pulled back. Instead of looking at her, Allison continued to stare down at the covered body.
But if Allison was alive, then who was under the sheet from the medical examiner’s office, wearing Allison’s shoes? Nic leaned down and twitched back the cloth to reveal the face of the dead woman.
At first she thought she was seeing double. Could the Allison standing behind her be a ghost? A figment of her freaked-out imagination?
And then everything shifted and fell into place. Lindsay. It was Lindsay, with her hair all dyed one color. The last time Nic had seen her, Lindsay’s hair had been streaked with pink. But the startling resemblance to Allison was more than that. The earrings, the makeup, even the way Lindsay’s hair was pinned up made her look like Allison.
Nic let the sheet drop. “Oh, Allison,” she said.
Allison did not move or even change expression.
“She’s in shock,” Leif said in her ear. “Take her over in the corner and keep her back to the body.”
Nic took her friend’s cold hand and drew her, unresisting, over to the far corner of the bank.
“I thought it was you, Ally.” Nic had never called Allison Ally in her life. “I thought it was you.”
Allison said nothing. Her gaze was unfocused. But bright blood was smeared around the cross she wore around her neck.
When Nic noticed the blood, her heart jumped. Her thoughts flashed back to Cassidy and the blood that had soaked the front of her jacket. “Are you hurt?” With a trembling finger she touched the blood, trying to see where it was coming from.
“What?” Allison said vaguely. “No, that’s from Lindsay. I tried to help her, but she died in my arms.”
“I don’t understand. Why were you both here?”
“I was cosigning the loan for Lindsay’s coffee cart.”
Allison hadn’t said where Lindsay was going to get the money for the cart, and Nic hadn’t asked. Now she understood. Allison had remade her sister in her own image, helped her to look like a successful businesswoman instead of an addict who had spent years on the streets. But the transformation hadn’t reached as far as her credit score, so Lindsay had needed a cosigner.
“And now Lindsay’s dead,” Allison said, “and it’s all my fault.”
This made no sense, but her friend was in shock.
“Allison, it was a bank robbery. Whoever shot your sister must have panicked.”
A muscle under Allison’s eye spasmed. “That’s what they want you to think.”
They. She had clearly slipped off the edge of sanity. Two murders in one week were more than she could bear.
“That’s what who wants me to think?” Nic tried to keep her expression neutral, as if Allison were talking some kind of sense.
“I came out of the bathroom when I heard her scream. The robbers were running out the door. I tried to help her, but it was already too late. She was bleeding, and I tried to press on it, to keep the blood from coming out. I told her not to talk.” Allison’s voice was flat. “But she kept trying to tell me. She said the man who shot her called her Allison. And he told her to say hello to Cassidy. And then he shot her a second time.”
Nic thought of the witness she had heard describing how the robber accused Lindsay of looking at him, of how bizarre the woman had found the charge. Had his words been just a cover? Had the bank robbery itself been a cover?
Allison must have been thinking the same thing. “Whoever did this—I think he must be the one who killed Cassidy too. Killed her and found a way to frame Rick for it.” Finally, a spark of life appeared in her eyes. She looked at Nic. “Why would someone hate me and Cassidy that much?”
Nic didn’t answer. She was too confused. Nothing was as it seemed. Allison wasn’t dead, and Lindsay really was. And there was a cop who couldn’t remember. A crazy guy who said he had seen a bald man with a murder victim. A knife with upside-down prints. A bank robber who really wanted to kill.
Something was going on. Something bigger than Cassidy. Bigger than Lindsay. Two women had died. And right now, as far as Lindsay’s killer knew, Nic was the last of the Triple Threat standin
g.
Allison grabbed her wrist. “They’ll come for you now, Nic. They’ll come for you.”
“You’re just guessing. We don’t know that,” Nic said, even though part of her did know. “But what we do know is that if they figure out they killed the wrong person, they’ll come back for you and finish what they started.” She looked past Allison at the people milling about the room. Who had seen Allison talking to Nic? More importantly, who had seen Allison who would recognize her?
Only a minute or two had passed since Nic came into the bank. She had to hurry. And pray. Nic finally called it what it was. Prayer. God, help me to keep Allison safe.
She caught Leif’s eye, and something in her expression must have tipped him off, because he was with her in a few long strides.
“Leif, we have to get her out of here. This wasn’t a bank robbery, it was a hit on Allison. Only they goofed and shot her sister. We have to make sure they still think she’s dead before they come back and fix their mistake.” Her thoughts were racing faster than she could spit them out. “Before I knew the truth I told one of the uniform officers that it was Allison under the sheet. Now we need everyone else to think that.”
Even though he looked like he wasn’t following all of it, Leif seemed to be willing to take her word. “How are we going to clear this with the Bureau?”
“I don’t think that’s an option, at least not right now.” Nic knew that she might be torpedoing her own career. “By the time we explained everything it would be too late and too many people would know that the wrong woman got killed here. We’d never keep it quiet. We can figure out how to explain it later, but for right now, we’ve got to get her out of here.”
Leif’s expression was unreadable.
“Maybe you should just stay out of it,” she said. “I’m willing to put my career on the line, but not yours.”
He didn’t hesitate. “No. I’ll help.”
Allison seemed to be tracking better. “I won’t let you get in trouble, Nicole.”
Nic wagged her finger. “You don’t have a choice,” she whispered urgently. “Because your life is far more important than my career. Now quick. We don’t have much time. Where’s Lindsay’s purse?”
“I think it’s on the floor in front of the desk where we were sitting. The desk in the middle. The one with the cookies on it.” Allison started to turn around, but Nic grabbed her shoulder before she could present her face to the room.
“I already said that it was you under that sheet. But having your purse next to the body is crucial. The medical examiner will be the one to make the final ID, and he’ll be looking at the driver’s license as well as going off his own personal knowledge. How well does Tony know you? Does he know you have a sister?”
“He doesn’t know me that well, and he doesn’t know my sister at all.” Allison’s voice was shaking. “I don’t think he even knows I have one.”
“I’ll make the switch.” Leif held out his hand, and Allison handed over her purse. “Is your phone in it?”
She nodded, looking dazed.
“While you do that, I’ll get her outside,” Nic said. “We’ll meet at your car.” Her sunglasses were still on top of her head. Now she took them off and handed them to Allison, thankful that they were oversized. “Here. Put these on. And button your jacket so no one can see the blood on your throat.”
Allison did as she was told.
With his big hands Leif managed to nearly fold the purse in half, and then he clamped it under his muscled arm so that only an edge showed. No one seemed to be paying them any mind. Keeping to the edge of the room, Nic and Allison made for the door. Just before they reached it, Nic looked back and saw Leif crouch down as if he were looking at something on the carpet. When he stood up, he still had a black purse under his arm, but Nic knew it was Lindsay’s.
Watching the way he slipped through the crowd, somehow managing not to draw attention to himself, she was filled with gratitude. There was no way she could pull this off by herself. She probably couldn’t even pull it off with Leif, but at least she could try.
She flashed her badge at the cop manning the door. Back out in the flat heat of the day, she half pushed, half pulled Allison toward Leif’s car. The poor girl was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Leif came up and took Allison’s other elbow. He was talking on his cell phone. From the half of the conversation Nic could overhear, he was telling, not asking, Ophelia that she would need to shelter Allison, at least for a few hours.
Once they reached his car, Leif opened the door and helped Allison inside.
What other loose ends were there? Nic leaned in. “What’s the name of the loan officer you were meeting with?” she asked Allison.
“Annie Botinelli. I remember thinking it was such a lovely name.” Her head lolled on her neck, and her voice sounded floaty.
“Okay, I’m going to go back in there and talk to her. Get her to keep quiet about Lindsay being here too. Leif will take you to Ophelia’s. We’ll meet later and figure out what else we need to do to keep you safe.”
“What about Marshall?” Allison asked.
Nic hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought of anything. There had been no time.
“I’ll go to him before the police do,” she said, thinking out loud. “I’ll tell him the truth and tell him to get out of town and tell people he’s in seclusion. It will be too hard for him to pretend you’re dead if he knows otherwise. And that will keep him safe.” She stepped back. “Now you two need to go before anyone spots you.”
When Nic reentered the bank, Karl Zehner, another agent, hurried up to her, his face set and pale. “Oh, Nicole, I just heard. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe Allison is dead. What a stupid waste. The tellers are saying they handed over the money. They didn’t need to kill anyone—let alone one of the best federal prosecutors in the country.”
“I can’t believe it either,” Nic said, which wasn’t really a lie. She had lit the fire, and it was already sparking to life. When Karl turned away, she hurried over to a man wearing a name tag. “Which one is Annie Botinelli?”
He pointed at a tall woman with curly blond hair. She was talking to Theodore, one of the new agents. Maybe Nic’s luck was holding. She was with them in two long strides.
“Excuse me, Theodore, let me take over for you. I want to interview this woman myself.”
He looked confused, but nodded and left.
“How far had you gotten in telling him what happened?”
“I was telling him about the robbers. Not that there’s much to tell. The minute they fired their guns, I knew we were in trouble. We’ve been robbed before, but I’ve never known anyone who was in a robbery where a customer was killed.” Her voice shook.
“And that was your customer, right?”
“One of them. It was a woman and her sister. One went to the bathroom and the other one was shot. She seemed so nice, too, and they were both close. You could tell. They even looked like each other.”
“Look, Annie, I’m not asking you to lie.” Which was a lie. “I’m just asking you to leave something out. Whoever killed Lindsay thought they were killing Allison.”
“I don’t understand. Wasn’t it just a random shooting?”
“We don’t know that yet. I’m going to interview you and take down all your information. And when you talk to anyone else, just tell them exactly what happened—how these men came in, what they said, what they did, and how as they left, they shot your client. The only part I’m asking you to leave out is that Lindsay was here. Just for right now, don’t tell anyone else but me that the woman killed was here with her sister. We’re going to say it was Allison who was killed and then put her into protective custody for the time being—but that’s on a need-to-know basis only.” She said we’re as if she meant the FBI. “We can’t risk the killer finding out he shot the wrong woman.”
Annie hesitated. “What about the other people who were here when it happened? I won’t tell an
yone, but what about everybody else?”
“All they’re going to be focused on is the robbery. On the guns. Once people see guns, they don’t pay attention to anything else.” This had been Nic’s experience, but now, when Allison’s life depended on it, would it hold? “Trust me, even their descriptions of the robbers are going to be all over the map. The chances that one of them will mention you had two customers, and not one, a few minutes before these guys walked in and started shooting are nil.”
Looking dazed, Annie nodded. But Nic knew she wouldn’t keep quiet forever.
CHAPTER 26
Feeling as if she were floating above her own body, Allison had stumbled forward through the bank’s parking lot. Past the police cars, past the ambulance, past the gawkers. Her sweaty feet slipped in her shoes, but at the same time she shook with chills. Nicole’s hand under her elbow was the only thing that kept her on her feet. Nicole had warned her in a whisper to keep her head down, but Allison didn’t have to fake it.
Her sister was dead.
Her baby sister.
Lindsay.
Dead.
She’d kept staggering forward, but her mind was still back in the bank, reliving what had just happened a few minutes earlier.
After she had left the safety of the bathroom, Allison had crouched in the hallway between the two restroom doors and tried to figure out what to do. Slowly, slowly she had raised her head until she could see through the small glass window set into the door.
Where was Lindsay? Why had her sister’s voice been abruptly silenced? She could see only a small section of the loan area with a loan officer and two customers, all on their feet with their hands raised. But no Lindsay. All three people were staring openmouthed at something just out of Allison’s range of vision.
