On the List

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Therefore, she should trust them all, right? And five heads were better than two. All combined, they could cover a lot of ground in a few days.

  It ate at her that she had to do this. That she couldn’t count on her own agency to back her. And she knew she was taking a big chance bringing in outsiders.

  But what were her options? To drop the ball? To leave herself open to someone who probably would want her dead even if she stopped the investigation?

  Renata wouldn’t feel safe until she’d caught whoever was trying to shut her up permanently.

  Maybe she would feel more confident about involving even more people if she called one of the Chicago detectives who apparently knew so much about Gabe’s undercover activities.

  Almost to her cubicle, she literally ran into Paul Broden.

  “Whoa,” he said, steadying her. “Where’s the fire?”

  “I’m being sent home.”

  “Suspension?”

  “I was given the opportunity to take a couple of personal days.” Not that Mulvihill meant for her to continue the investigation, of course. Noting a thin, dark-haired woman sitting near her cubicle, twisting her hands together, Renata asked, “Who’s the woman?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of her.”

  “Broden…”

  Reluctantly, he said, “Her name’s Marlene Bourne.”

  “As in victim number five’s sister?”

  “That would be the one.”

  “Why is she here?”

  “She asked to see you, but I can take care of her. Go. Get while the going is good.”

  Renata was torn between protecting her job and wanting to get to the truth. As always with her, truth won.

  “I’ll talk to Ms. Bourne before I go.”

  Broden shrugged. “It’s your career.”

  Renata could tell he didn’t approve. But she was doing a lot her colleagues disapproved of these days. Praying that Mulvihill didn’t get wind of this encounter, Renata approached Heidi Bourne’s sister.

  “Ms. Bourne, I’m Agent Fox. How can I help you?”

  Marlene Bourne rose and straightened the pleats of her skirt. “I saw the news,” she said in a hushed tone. “You don’t think the Hawass man killed my sister, right?”

  She should evade the question, Renata supposed. “No, I don’t.”

  “Me, neither.”

  Figuring the woman was here to discuss her own suspicions, Renata asked, “Would you like to get a cup of coffee away from here?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Give me a minute to get my things.”

  Renata was quick but not quick enough. They were waiting for the elevator when Mulvihill came out of his office. Great. His forehead puckered into a frown as he stared at them. Renata guiltily looked away and breathed her relief as the elevator doors opened. She followed Marlene Bourne into the car and hit the button for the lobby.

  A few minutes later, they were seated at the coffee bar across from the S.A.F.E. building, and Marlene was reminiscing about her sister.

  “Heidi was a good if misguided person. She was easily influenced, and Carl Cooper wasn’t what he made himself out to be to his constituents.”

  The only thing Renata knew about Congressman Carl Cooper was that he’d headed the committee that had funded S.A.F.E. That and the scandal involving use of government monies to entertain foreign dignitaries in a less-than-dignified fashion. Heidi Bourne had made the arrangements for the parties and in return had received designer clothing and jewelry, both paid for from U.S. coffers. To save herself from doing time, she’d made a deal to testify against her employer. Only she wouldn’t be doing that now.

  “Well, the legal system will take care of Congressman Cooper,” Renata said, hoping that was true.

  “How?” The woman worried her cup so that the coffee sloshed against its sides. “I don’t believe Cooper will stand trial for murder.”

  “Murder?” Heidi? “You don’t think—”

  “I’m afraid I do. Cooper threatened my sister. He told her she would never testify against him, and now she won’t be able to, will she?”

  “That doesn’t make Cooper a murderer.”

  “If you really think her death was a coincidence, then you’re naive. And you’ve disappointed me.” Marlene Bourne shook her head and stood. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

  “Wait. I’m still investigating,” Renata said, knowing she wasn’t going to let go until she got to the truth. “Leave me your telephone number. I, or someone else, may contact you for more information.”

  She didn’t add that “someone else” might not be from S.A.F.E.

  Marlene hesitated, then gave Renata her card. “You’re really continuing the investigation?”

  Renata nodded. “And I don’t intend to stop until I get to the truth.”

  “All right then.” Marlene dug into her large bag and pulled out a small book, which she handed to Renata. “My sister’s address book. She must have dropped it in my car the day before…”

  Renata nodded. “I won’t let you down.”

  She had to come through for Mrs. Chin, for Marlene and for anyone else who’d lost a loved one, which brought her to another decision.

  Waiting only until the woman was out of sight, Renata pulled out her cell and got the number of the CPD area office and asked to speak to Detective Stella Jacobek.

  Within minutes, the detective confirmed everything Gabe had told her about Team Undercover.

  “I know this has gotta be weird for you,” Stella said. “It was for me, the first time I got involved. I didn’t even know what I was getting into. But recently, a friend of mine who was up on bogus murder charges needed some serious help. Blade and Cass and Logan and Gideon all came through for me. They’ve all got different areas of expertise. Logan’s another Chicago detective, for example, and Blade was in Special Ops.”

  A reassurance that Renata needed to hear. “Doesn’t this bother you, though?” she asked. “I mean you are a member of Chicago’s finest. Doesn’t this go against the grain as an officer of the law?”

  “The first time didn’t make me too comfortable relying on citizens. But I saw the value. There are some things in my position I can’t do. And when official heat came down on Dermot, I knew I would do whatever it took to help him. Gabe and the others…they’re all good people. They’ll go to the mat for you.”

  The next call Renata made was to Gabe.

  AFTER CHOWING DOWN on an early dinner, Gabe picked up Renata to continue their investigation. The club could do without him for a few hours. And he could do with some time spent with the woman who was wreaking havoc with his peace of mind. Her sitting in the car with him was distracting. He noted the flash of flesh as she adjusted her legs—as usual she was wearing a skirt—and then he had to adjust himself.

  He’d kissed her the night before and since one thing often led to another, who knew where that might have landed him if he hadn’t forced himself away from her. In her bed, to be specific.

  What had he been thinking?

  If Renata knew the real reason he’d involved himself in her problems in the first place… Not that he’d lied to her. His brother Danny had been killed for no reason. He simply hadn’t told her the whole truth—the details of how Danny had been killed and why. If he had, she would never have agreed to his working with her.

  Better to keep his mind on the prize, a challenge where Renata was concerned.

  The sky was cloudy, the north side Ravenswood Manor neighborhood dark when they arrived at the Hudson residence. The stately old two-story brick house had mullioned windows and stood on a large lot that led right to the Chicago River and a private dock.

  “Successful husband,” Renata murmured as Gabe pulled into the drive.

  “Successful and abusive and now very dead,” he mused.

  And, indeed, Janice Hudson didn’t seem to be the grieving widow.

  Muffled laughter spilled out of the house as Gabe rang
the doorbell. And when she answered the door, the woman herself looked as if she’d had a makeover. Renata had told him she’d been subdued and red-eyed when she’d interviewed her the week before. But the only thing red now was her dress and matching lipstick.

  She seemed to have gotten over her grief quickly.

  “Do I know you?” the widow asked, her expression perplexed as she looked from one to the other.

  “Agent Renata Fox. We met a few days after your husband was murdered.”

  Janice Hudson’s smile faltered. Rather than letting them inside, she stepped out onto the stoop and pulled the door closed behind her. Gabe figured she didn’t want her guests to hear what they had to say.

  “I thought that mess was all settled.”

  Mess? If that’s how she thought of her late husband, then maybe he really was on to something.

  “Not quite settled, no,” Gabe said smoothly. “We’re still trying to get a handle on the motive for the crime.”

  “I thought the shootings were random and that Hawass was a terrorist.”

  “That may be,” Renata said. “But we’re simply double-checking for any other connections.”

  “I don’t understand. You think Hawass might have purposely killed my husband?”

  “That’s one possibility.”

  Janice Hudson’s face pulled into an unattractive expression. “What does it matter now, anyway?” she demanded. “Gary is dead and so is the sniper! Close the case, already. I want to get on with my life!”

  Appearing startled by the other woman’s vehemence, Renata said, “If you’ll just answer some questions—”

  “I suggest you contact my lawyer.”

  With that, the widow took herself inside and slammed the door in their faces.

  “Well, that was abrupt,” Renata muttered.

  Gabe sank into a thoughtful silence as they climbed back into the car and he pulled out of the driveway. Renata had told him about Marlene Bourne’s claims earlier and he was drawing a conclusion they hadn’t before discussed.

  “You’re quiet,” Renata said.

  “Just putting one and one together.”

  “And getting?”

  “Two. Maybe three or four.”

  “You’re talking about connections?”

  “Maurice Washington had a silent partner who benefited from his death,” Gabe said. “And Mae Chin had some information that was going to get her out of her contract, information that might have put her manager at risk. Now you tell me Carl Cooper threatened Heidi Bourne and her sister thinks the congressman had her murdered—”

  “And if we take it a step farther,” Renata mused, “when Gary Hudson was shot, his wife Janice conveniently lost an abusive husband.”

  “She didn’t seem to be grieving, you noticed.”

  “I noticed.”

  “What if the connection is that in each case, the shooter was hired to kill one of the victims?”

  “No one ever brought up that theory before. Hmm. The sniper a hired killer.”

  “A very clever killer,” Gabe went on. “What if he made it seem like his sniper activities were random shootings, while in reality, they were planned murders. And when Hawass was shot by the S.A.F.E. team, he stopped. He knew that no one would be looking for him if the murders didn’t continue.”

  “But if he’s a hit man—”

  “He could be multitalented, use other weapons.”

  “True enough,” Renata agreed, sounding like she was warming to his theory. “But he couldn’t have counted on Hawass being shot. Could he? Unless…”

  “Unless the shooter set up Hawass. Or possibly someone wanted Hawass dead—therefore he, too, was one of the marks. His sister said he left the house after taking a phone call. And you told me that the agency got an anonymous tip…”

  “And Hawass was carrying the rifle used by the City Sniper,” Renata told him.

  “You know that for a fact?”

  “The lab confirmed it,” she said. “So, then, who is our hit man?”

  “Now that’s a whole other question. One plus one seems to be adding up to four. It would be interesting if the last victim adds up to five.”

  BEING THAT SHE had no information on relatives of the bookstore clerk Chuck LaRoe, Renata conceded that they might as well leave investigating him until morning. She had the whole day to fill. And the day after that.

  Rather than taking her home, Gabe insisted on bringing her with him to the club. Renata figured that since she agreed to include Team Undercover in their private investigation, he wanted to strike while the iron was hot…and before she could change her mind.

  At least Renata hoped that was all Gabe had planned. She was too susceptible to his charm and while she’d decided to trust him with her life, that didn’t mean she needed to trust him with her heart.

  So when he said, “Someone is following us,” she wasn’t psychically prepared for the shift.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “How do you figure?”

  “The high-riding vehicle lights that have been behind us the last couple of miles, turns and all, are a dead giveaway,” Gabe told her.

  Her stomach clenched as Gabe turned again, onto a dark side street, and the other vehicle turned with them. Though she stared straight back through the rear window, she couldn’t make out anything more than a dark silhouette of a truck with blindingly bright halogens.

  “What’s he doing using fog lights in the city?”

  “For one, you can’t see who’s behind the wheel,” Gabe pointed out. “Clever.”

  “When did the truck start following us?”

  “I don’t actually know. I’ve been a little distracted tonight.”

  Wondering about the nature of that distraction, Renata said, “So it could be a coincidence.”

  “Could be.”

  But then the truck sped up, the higher bumper of the bigger vehicle crashed into Gabe’s trunk and jerked her against her seat belt. Renata had to admit that, once again, this was no coincidence.

  Chapter Eight

  “Damn!” Renata threw out her hands to the dash to steady herself.

  Gabe’s curse was stronger and directed at the other driver. The car picked up speed but they didn’t leave the other vehicle in their dust.

  “Can you see the license plate?” she asked, craning around to no avail.

  “No.”

  “I can’t see anything, either. I don’t think there is a plate.” Another sudden turn jerked Renata toward the door. “What’s the plan?”

  “Beat him at his own game.”

  They sped down an alley to a T intersection. Renata’s insides were twisted into a knot as she turned in her seat to see what the other driver would do. Behind them, the truck made a false start into the alley. The driver turned too wide, then had to back up.

  When Gabe took another hard right and Renata saw where he was headed, her eyes widened—a dead end! A massive industrial building blocked the far end of the alley.

  But just as quickly, he did a dizzying U-turn in an empty parking area behind it. He must have known about this, she thought. Then he reached for the dash and cut the car lights. He’d barely hit the brakes when Renata spotted the truck’s brights as it approached the T.

  This time it made the turn, no problem. The driver didn’t stop the truck until the last second and nearly slammed into the building creating the dead end.

  “Now let’s see who this guy is,” Gabe said, turning on the lights and nosing the car out into the truck’s path, effectively blocking it from going anywhere.

  Heart pounding, Renata pulled the gun from her shoulder bag, the third time in as many days. Even so, she was no more comfortable thinking about using the weapon than before. She hadn’t known how much she disliked guns until she’d been faced with using hers. Shooting it at an inanimate target on a practice range was like a game, while thinking about using it on a person was grim reality.

  “There’s a rear license plate. I can see it’
s a Michigan plate,” she said, “but it’s covered with dirt. Can’t read letters or numbers.”

  She undid the seat belt and was about to get out when the truck’s transmission shifted and the backup lights glowed red. Gabe swore and threw the car into Reverse in the nick of time. The near-collision as the truck rocketed by them shook Renata, but she firmly grasped the gun handle and told herself she was ready for a face-off.

  The chance never came. She steadied herself against the car and used both hands on the gun, but the truck kept going. And Gabe apparently chose the safe route and, rather than take chase, didn’t follow.

  “I probably should have tried to shoot out the tires or something,” Renata said, lowering her weapon.

  “With your skills, you probably would have chewed up a nearby telephone pole.”

  Knowing he was referring to the close call with Sam Wong, she said, “That’s not fair. Wong’s buddy bumped me at the last minute.”

  Otherwise, at that range, even she couldn’t have missed her target.

  The breath she didn’t know she’d been holding whooshed out of her and Renata realized Gabe was probably trying to lighten things up—his way of dealing with a tense situation. She, on the other hand, wanted to kick something. Hard!

  “So do we call this in?” Gabe asked.

  “At least I’ll let Stella Jacobek know what’s happening in case something goes wrong,” she said.

  “Sure. Not a lot you can tell her, though. We know it was a black truck with Michigan plates. Period.”

  They were no closer to identifying the offender than she had been when attacked the other night. Her frustration mounted exponentially every time she was faced with a new roadblock. At least anger drove away any jitters. Rather than wanting to break down, she was ready for a fight.

  “Maybe you could call one of your detective friends in the department and keep him or her informed, just in case we need someone to back us up about this later.”