by Jo Leigh
She shook her head stiffly.
“Are you hurt?”
Again she shook her head. “I really hope someone was following us,” she said in a little high voice. “’Cause if not, you’re pulling over right now and I’m driving.”
He smiled. And relaxed. If she could joke, she was fine. “Don’t worry, just because I’m paranoid, it doesn’t mean someone wasn’t really following us.”
She turned to Megan. “Honey? You okay?”
Jack watched Megan in the rearview mirror. She nodded once, but the truth was he needed to get both of these ladies somewhere safe, and fast. It was still a good forty-minute drive to Galveston. “You want to stop somewhere? Maybe get some breakfast?”
“No,” Hailey said. “I want to get out of here. I don’t like that they know what kind of car I drive. Probably have the license-plate number, too.”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling into the parking lot of a gas station and stopping. “This house we’re going to—who owns it?”
“My parents.”
“Hmm. That’s not so good. They can trace the car, get your name, then do a search on it.”
“No,” Hailey said, her gaze still on Megan. “Their name is Rogers. It’s my mother’s third marriage.”
“So there’s no connection between you? You’re not on any of the mortgage papers?”
Her gaze went to him. “They could find that out?”
He nodded. “They have the law behind them. And believe me, if they really are cops, then they know all the tricks.”
She shook her head. “No. There’s no way they can connect me to the Galveston house.”
“Okay,” he said. “One more thing…”
She looked as if she didn’t want to hear it.
“If you need any money, we have to get it now. While we’re still at this end of town. You won’t be able to use your credit cards or your checks for a while.”
“All right. I’m with Bank One. Why don’t we find an ATM? I need to pick up some things for myself and for Megan. But I don’t want to drive around.”
“I’ve got an idea about that,” he said, putting the van back in drive. “You have a cell phone?”
She nodded, then reached into her purse, pulling out a small phone in a black leather case. He told her the number to dial, and after she’d punched the numbers, she handed him the phone.
It rang twice. “Who the hell is it?” a scratchy voice asked. It was early—he’d awakened her. Of course, with Crystal, he could have called at noon and she’d still have been asleep.
“It’s me,” he said. He waited a moment, heard the click of a Bic and her quick inhalation as she took a drag on the day’s first cigarette.
“I’m surprised you still remember the number.”
“It’s etched in my brain,” he said, lowering his voice. “Like a certain rainy night.”
She sighed into the phone. “What do you need, Jack?”
“A favor.”
“I figured.”
“I need to borrow the Caddy for a while. And put a van in your garage.”
“You do, huh?”
“Yep.” He glanced at Hailey. She was smiling at Megan, turned so he could see her face. Her color had come back, which he supposed was a good thing.
“How long do you need it for?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do me any good to ask why?”
“Baby, you know me too well.”
“Yeah. Too well.” Then she paused. Exhaled. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” he said, putting on his right signal. “Top of the world.”
“My ass,” she said.
“So I’ll be there in fifteen, okay?”
“Why not.”
“Thanks, Crystal. You’re a doll.”
She hung up without a goodbye. Crystal never liked goodbyes.
“We’re borrowing a car?” Hailey asked.
He nodded. “A friend of mine has a couple she doesn’t use. From a divorce settlement.”
“I see.”
“We’ll put the van in her garage. No one will find it.”
Hailey looked at him quizzically. “An ex-girlfriend?”
“Ex-wife.”
“Your cars?”
He nodded.
“Oh,” Hailey said, surprised.
He could see she wanted to ask him about it. How Crystal had gotten custody of the Caddy and the Mustang. But he didn’t want to talk about it. The subject tended to make him a little grumpy.
They drove in silence for a while, until Hailey spotted a branch of her bank. Getting her money only took a minute, then he headed to Crystal’s place in West University.
When he checked on Megan again, he saw she’d fallen asleep. Poor kid.
“Jack, after we get the car, I need to go to a store. A Wal-Mart or Target.”
“Okay.”
“And then…”
“Yeah?” He looked at her. She was nibbling on her lower lip. It was an unguarded move, innocent, childlike. And it did something to his insides. What, he wasn’t sure. Was it protectiveness he felt? Guilt for getting her involved? Or was it just that he hadn’t thought about the look of a woman’s lower lip for a long long time?
“What are we going to do?” she asked finally.
“About what?”
“Everything.”
He nodded. “We’ll take it a step at a time,” he said.
“I like that. I can deal with that. What’s the first step?”
He smiled. “Getting the Cadillac.”
She nodded. But she didn’t nibble her lip again. He supposed it wasn’t the kind of thing he could ask her to do. She’d probably wonder about him. He wouldn’t blame her.
CRYSTAL CAME TO THE DOOR in her negligee. A diaphanous black floor-length gown that didn’t hide any of her considerable charms. In fact, looking at that spectacular body made Hailey feel as though they weren’t the same species, let alone the same gender. She thought about what she’d looked like last night wearing Jack’s boxy pajamas. No wonder he hadn’t given her a second glance. He had this to compare her to.
“I didn’t know you were bringing the family,” Crystal said, eyeing Hailey and the bundle of little girl and quilt in her arms.
“Surprise,” Jack said. “The keys?”
“Why’d I ever divorce a charmer like you?” she asked, arching one perfect brow.
“Temporary insanity,” he said, holding out his hand.
Crystal dropped a key ring into his palm. “The insanity was at the beginning, not the end.”
“You’re right.” He shifted his leg, bracing his arm on his cane.
Crystal’s gaze moved to his hip, then the cane. Her brows came together as she frowned. “What’s all this? You didn’t tell me you needed a cane.”
“It’s temporary. No big deal.”
“Jack,” she said, looking up at him again, crossly, “you said it was nothing. That the bullet grazed you.”
Hailey could see that Jack didn’t want to talk about it. That it embarrassed him somehow that he’d been hurt. As if he should have been stronger than a bullet.
“Thanks for the car, kiddo,” he said, ignoring her comment altogether. “I’ll gas it up before I bring it back.”
Crystal looked at Hailey. “Good luck, honey,” she said. “You’re going to need it.”
Hailey wasn’t sure if she was supposed to smile or not, so she did. But her thoughts stayed on the interaction between Jack and his ex while they transferred their belongings to the Cadillac.
She’d never met anyone like Jack before. Not even close. She couldn’t imagine even one of the men in her life being so blasé about a woman like Crystal, let alone being shot. It was as if she’d gone through the looking glass, and everything familiar and easy had disappeared in the transition. Car chases, bad cops, women who looked like Rita Hayworth. Bizarre.
“You ready?” Jack asked as he put his cane into the backseat.<
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Hailey checked on Megan once more. She was safely belted in her car seat, awake now and sucking her thumb. “Let’s go to McDonald’s first,” she said. “Megan needs to eat something.”
“Right,” he said, then put the car in gear and pulled out of the driveway.
Hailey looked at the house. Medium-size, brick, with a well-tended lawn. The house of a professor or a bank manager. How did Crystal end up there? Had Jack once lived there, too? She didn’t think so. She couldn’t picture him there. He wasn’t the cozy neighborhood type. Not at all.
BY THE TIME they got settled in the house in Galveston, Jack’s hip ached like a son of a bitch. It was late, almost four, and the last pill he’d taken was at breakfast, hours ago. Hailey was like a whirlwind, taking care that Megan was bathed, changed and fed, that the food they’d picked up at the grocery store was put away, and that the sheets on the beds were changed. He sat like a useless lump on a very comfortable leather chair, watching her accomplish her goals in an admirably efficient manner that appealed to his sense of order. He also just liked watching her.
She’d showered and changed along with Megan, and now wore a pair of black leggings and a sweatshirt from the University of Texas. He would have preferred a more revealing top, but at least her outfit afforded him a good look at her legs. And when she bent over, he silently applauded the way the material hugged her backside. It was a very good backside.
But after half an hour, he couldn’t justify watching her any longer. He’d been thinking about the case, about the white car. It wasn’t a police issue, of that he was certain. He hadn’t gotten a look at the driver, thanks to that ski mask.
Who was he? How was he connected to the cop in Roy’s apartment and the two cops in the unmarked car? One thing for certain, this was no small-time revenge hit. At least four people were involved, and that meant there was money and power somewhere. Another thing that had puzzled him all day was why the man in Hailey’s apartment had asked about Megan. What would someone with money and power want with a four-year-old? Nothing. So it figured that whoever was behind this thought Megan had something important with her.
He’d gone through the contents of the pillowcase in his mind, and nothing seemed right. The picture? Maybe. He’d have to look at it more closely. The recipe? Was that some kind of code? There wasn’t much else to suspect.
“Is your cell phone in your purse?” he asked, calling out to Hailey in the kitchen.
“Yes, right behind you. But there’s a phone on the counter, next to the green vase.”
“I don’t want the number traced,” he said as he pulled himself up, wondering if he should take his pill first and then call. His first step told him the answer to that was yes.
He grabbed the cell phone out of Hailey’s purse, then went down the hall to the small bedroom that was going to be his for the next few days. It was nice, although a bit feminine for his taste. The queen-size bed had a canopy, which was a first for him, and the comforter on top was all flowery. The wallpaper had the same design, and there was a little vanity table in the corner with a bunch of perfume bottles, face stuff and hairbrushes.
Not that it mattered. He wasn’t going to be here long. But it felt funny, especially after spending so much time in his apartment.
He opened his duffel and pulled out his bottle of pills. He shook it, grateful that he’d refilled his supply only two days ago. Then he opened it, took out two pills and swallowed them dry. Instead of putting the bottle back, he stuck it in his pocket.
The urge to lie down was strong, but he fought it, making his way back to the small living room. Hailey’s parents had gone with a nautical theme, pictures of ships and lighthouses on the walls, mixed in with a whole array of family photos on the white bookcase. He’d seen one of Hailey when she was younger, eighteen or so. She’d been fresh and pretty back then, too. A real wholesome-looking girl. Someone he’d imagine in the 4H Club or home economics.
He dialed Frank O’Neill’s number. It rang three times, four, and Jack was just about to hang up when Frank answered. “O’Neill.”
“Hey, buddy.”
“Jack! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“What for?”
“God, I’ve missed that savoir faire. I was calling because I’ve got four tickets to the Aeros for tomorrow night. Great seats. I figured we could call those sisters, you know, the ones from the bar?”
“I can’t go,” Jack said.
“It’s not that much walking,” Frank said. “I checked.”
“It’s not that. I’m away for a while. Taking a little vacation.”
“From what? You don’t do anything but sit on your ass all day as it is.”
“I’ve missed your subtlety,” Jack said, smiling. His ex-partner still cracked him up. Frank was like a tank, running over anything in his path, not delicate, not cautious, not polite. But he got the job done, and Jack trusted him with his life.
“You want subtle? Marry a geisha. You want the truth? Come to me.”
“I am coming to you,” Jack said, leaning against the wall so his full weight wasn’t on his legs. “I need your help.”
“What’s up?”
“I need you to do some background checks—but on the quiet. Craig Faraday, first. Then a guy named Barry Strangis.”
“Spell that last name.”
Jack did. “One more,” he said. “I want you to do some checking on a cop named Nichols.”
“Brett Nichols?”
“Yeah. And while you’re checking, see if there’s any connection between Nichols and Strangis. Or Faraday.”
Frank didn’t say anything for a few moments, and Jack could picture him clearly as he sat at his desk, hunched over as usual, the end of his pencil in his mouth. He’d have his cups on his desk, plastic foam, at least five by now, each containing half a cup of cold coffee.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he asked finally.
“Yeah. But later. Just do it and don’t let anyone know you’re doing it. Got that? No, wait. Talk to Bob Dorran. Get him to help.”
“No one but Bob. Check. You sure you can’t make it to the game?”
“I’m sure. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”
“Give me your number. I’ll just call you when I’m finished.”
“No. I’ll call you.”
“What is this?”
“You’ll find out. I appreciate it, Franky.”
“No sweat.”
Jack hung up the phone. He looked over to see Hailey, standing just a few feet away. She’d been listening. “That was my partner.”
“So you can trust him.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. I can trust him.”
“But you still didn’t give him the number here.”
“The less he knows, the safer he is.”
“And Bob Dorran?”
“A guy I went to the academy with. A real straight shooter.”
“Do you think they’ll find something?”
He shrugged. “We can do some searching ourselves,” he said. “That is, if you’re willing to help with that computer of yours.”
She smiled, and he felt it in his chest. A pull the likes of which he’d never known before. He could have understood if he’d reacted with another part of his body, but this? This was something new. Something unsettling.
“You got it,” she said. “If there’s something to be found, we’ll find it.”
“Good enough.”
“Dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so. I’ve got Megan in my folks’ bedroom watching cartoons, so she won’t bother you if you want to take a nap.”
He shook his head. “I think I’ll take the shower I missed this morning.” He rubbed his cheeks, the stubble rough on his hands. He must look like hell. Normally he wouldn’t have cared. But he did. Today.
“There are fresh towels in the bathroom,” she said. “In the long cabinet.”
“Great.”
“And, Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
She sighed. “For helping.”
He shrugged. “It’s my job.”
“Of course.” She turned to go back into the kitchen, but stopped at the door. “You like meat loaf?”
“Love it.”
“Good.”
Then she smiled again and the pull came back. Stronger this time.
Peculiar. Damn peculiar.
Chapter Nine
Hailey scooted closer to Jack’s chair as she waited for the Internet connection to complete. They were at the dining-room table, the dishes from their meal done two hours ago. Her laptop was in front of her, with Jack nearby so he could look at the small screen, too.
His arm and hers touched. His warmth seeped through his shirt and her bulky sweatshirt. The scent of him, clean and masculine, teased her, making her terribly aware of how large he was and how different. She wasn’t at all sure why he should strike such a unique chord with her. He was just a man, after all. She’d certainly been this near other men. And yet…
Part of it was his attitude. She tried to imagine Steven asking for her help like this. They’d been together three years, and in all that time he’d never once asked for her advice. No, that wasn’t true. He’d asked a few times, but only in front of her parents. Then he’d ignored anything she’d said. Even when she’d known more than he did, he’d never acknowledged it.
It had taken her a long time to come to trust herself after that. Sometimes even now she didn’t. Especially when it came to men. At least she’d found her strength in the business world. That was something, wasn’t it?
And Jack trusted her. She’d asked him to take a leap of faith and he had, no questions asked. That was something, too.
She focused again on the screen and put her fingers on the keyboard. She went right to the search engine she preferred. “Who first?”
“Let’s do Barry Strangis,” he said. “See what comes up.”
She typed in the name and got a great many links, more than a hundred. But as she examined each brief synopsis of the connecting web sites, she saw that Barry Strangis was a far more common name than she could have imagined. Not one of the links seemed to have anything to do with the man she’d known as Roy Chandler. She looked at a few that were slight possibilities, but one was a television producer and the other was a gay man looking for a rendezvous with someone wearing spandex.
