by Tracy Sharp
I let my head hang over the edge of the desk, tears spilling from the outer corners of my eyes. Pleasure thrilled through me, carrying me away, and I grasped at it desperately, trying to hold on to it.
He slumped on top of me for a moment, and neither of us moved, not knowing what to do next. The sex had been fantastic, but the dull ache I’d been carrying in my gut came seeping back into me. I sensed an awkwardness coming from Cal. His body was suddenly stiff, and he kept his head down, not wanting to look at me. Fantastic sex hadn’t made things better between us. Our problems were still there.
At that point, I did the only thing I could do. I made a joke. “That was phenomenal. You still can’t move in.”
I felt his body shake and he began chuckling, then he lifted his head and looked at me, laughing right out loud. I laughed, too. And somehow it made it more bearable.
He shook his head. “Leah. You’ll be the death of me.”
I considered this, then nodded. “Probably.”
He lifted himself off me and pulled his boxers and jeans back on. “You’ve got a job to do.”
I lifted myself onto my elbows. “Yeah. I do.”
He gave me a little smile. “Go on, Leah. Go find her.”
* * *
My cell phone rang as I was climbing back into my Jeep, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I was thankful for the distraction.
“This is Leah.”
“Leah, Mitch Thomas.”
I heard several voices in the background. The busy sounds of a newsroom. My heart sped up. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I have some news for you. Do you have some time later?”
“Sure.”
“Meet you at McGilly’s at nine o’clock?”
I wanted to badger him into telling me what he knew, but there were probably lots of ears around the newsroom. “I’ll see you then.”
I closed my cell and weighed the pros and cons of bringing Jack along to McGilly’s with me. I really wanted him there, but Mitch was putting his job on the line by giving me information that even he shouldn’t really know about. I decided against it. I’d tell Mitch first about Jack and his involvement in helping me find Chloe. Ease him into it. I couldn’t risk losing him as a contact now.
My cell rang again.
“This is Leah.”
“Leah.” The voice was strained, but vaguely familiar.
“Yes?”
“It’s Martin.”
I closed my eyes. He was calling about the body they’d found.
“Martin, it might not be Chloe.”
“Would you come to the house, please?”
“Of course. I’ll be right there.”
I closed my cell again, a feeling of dread creeping into me. What could I tell Martin? I didn’t know what information Mitch had for me. I couldn’t put him off, either.
My nerves jangled as I started the Jeep and headed for Saratoga.
* * *
Again, Martin and I sat out on the patio. After serving us iced tea, Mrs. Nolan disappeared into the house again. I was becoming more than a little annoyed with her. Her daughter was missing and may be dead, and she couldn’t bring herself to sit with me and try to find out what had happened to her.
Martin seemed to read my mind. Or more likely, my feelings showed on my face. He said, “Muriel is a nervous wreck. So much has happened. She doesn’t do well with visitors anymore. The Valium helps a little but…” He shrugged helplessly. “I’ll fill her in later.”
I nodded but said nothing.
Martin wasn’t looking good. His eyes were red-rimmed, and the stress was showing on his face. The lines I’d noticed before were etched more deeply into his skin. His forehead also seemed to have more creases than before.
“Do you think it’s her?” he asked me, his voice gone weak.
“There’s no way to know right now. Have you called the police?”
“Yes. Of course. They won’t tell me anything.”
“They’ll call you when they know more. They need to spend time with ... the woman first...” I didn’t know what else to say. It sounded so horrible.
“To process her. I know.”
“I have a friend who has contacts with the police. I’m meeting with him later. He has some information. I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.”
He nodded, his nervous gaze moving over the yard.
“I did find out a few things about Chloe. Did you know that she was dating Darcy Shanahan? I’m sure you know who he is.”
His head snapped around. “Shanahan? You’re kidding me.”
I shook my head. “She dated him for a short time. The relationship went sour. He’d promised to get her a screen test in New York City. Said he had friends in the film business.”
“Of course he’d tell her that. Jesus. How in the hell did she get mixed up with that filth?”
I hated to tell him. But he deserved to know the truth. “She was a dancer in one of his clubs.”
“Ah, Jesus.” He took a few deep breaths. “It was no accident she was working for him. I’ll tell you that.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I put his brother away a few years ago. He was murdered in prison. Somebody shived him.”
I stared at him. “You think this might be revenge?”
“You’re damned right it is. I took his brother away. He took my daughter away.”
I was silent as I thought about it.
When he turned back to me his eyes were haunted. “And I don’t think Michael’s death was an accident either. Sitting in his car way out in the woods. What the hell would he be doing out there? He didn’t hunt. He didn’t even own a gun. Why was he out there?”
* * *
I had some time so I went to see Jack. I told him about the body being found in the landfill, and about what Martin had said about having put Shanahan’s brother away years ago.
“Aw shit.” Jack rubbed a hand over his stubble.
“What?”
“You didn’t hear about that? About two years ago Kevin Shanahan was shived in prison. Somebody got him in the throat.”
“And he died.” A dark realization was seeping in on me.
He nodded. “Yeah. So Shanahan does have motivation for killing Chloe. If she is dead.”
“Shanahan wouldn’t have killed her himself. And why would he date her first? If he’d wanted to kill her, wouldn’t he have just had her killed? No fuss, no muss?”
Jack stared off into space for a moment, eyes squinted. “That does make more sense, doesn’t it?”
“Martin’s son being dead in his car out in the woods sounds more like Shanahan’s handiwork.”
Jack shook his head. “No. Shanahan wouldn’t have his men force feed the guy a chocolate bar with nuts in it. Too much trouble. They’d just shoot him in the head and be done with it. Or stab him in the throat like his brother was stabbed. An eye for an eye.”
“His involvement with Chloe can’t just be a freaky coincidence,” I said. “Could it?”
Jack tipped his head to the side, figuring. Finally he said, “Stranger things have happened.”
* * *
This time McGilly’s was hopping. Some wouldn’t think that a busy pub would be the best place to talk about things like murder. All the noise provided cover for Mitch and I to talk about the girl in the landfill.
I searched the bar but didn’t see him. Suddenly from the corner of my eye I saw an arm wave. He’d somehow gotten us a booth. He must’ve pounced when somebody left.
I waved and made my way through a sea of people toward the booth. This time he was sipping on a pint of some kind of dark beer.
“Ah, something stronger this time,” I said.
“Beer makes me a little sleepy. Now that I’m done for the night, or at least I hope I am, I can relax a bit.” He smiled lazily, the nervous caution gone for the moment.
I felt a little guilty. Looking at him again sent a flutter through my chest. Thinking he could t
ell, I quickly dropped my gaze, then regretted it because the gaze-drop is a dead giveaway that you like somebody.
The waitress appeared and asked if I wanted anything. She was a stunning, willowy brunette wearing a pair of old-time glasses. They were little gold spectacles that perched lightly on her dainty nose.
“I could go for one of those.” I nodded toward Mitch’s beer.
“Okay. Be right back.” She smiled and bounced away toward the bar.
Mitch glanced at her as she left, and I wondered if she were his type. I’m so far removed from willowy and dainty that it’s laughable. I always figured that I’m too tall. I lift weights so there’s no extra fat on me. I’m toned as hell and I have a great butt. It’s one of the features I’ve been most complimented on by horny construction workers over the years. Having worked construction before working for Callahan as a recovery agent, lots of construction workers have had the opportunity to observe my butt.
A thought, which was shameful under the circumstances, flitted across my mind. I’d have to make sure I got up and headed toward the door first so that Mitch could view my caboose.
I did a mental head shake. Get a grip. Jesus.
We were there because he had information on the dead woman.
I tried to read his face, which appeared to be neutral. It seemed to me that if it had been Chloe in that landfill, he would look appropriately grim. Then, I didn’t know him yet. “So what’ve you got for me?”
“The woman in the landfill isn’t Chloe.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t known that I’d been holding. I was unprepared for the relief I felt hearing those words. More unprepared for the horror that I’d feel at the next words he spoke.
“Her name is Suzanna Ellero. She was a dancer at Shanahan’s.” He took a sip of his beer and looked at his notebook. “She went by the stage name Velvet.”
The dancer who spoke with me backstage.
And now she was dead.
Chapter Six
I stammered an apology to Mitch and stood abruptly from the table, my hand knocking over my pint of beer as I did. “Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry. I’m...”
The waitress happened to be passing our table when I knocked over the beer glass, and she hurried over and began sopping the foamy fluid with napkins. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna go get a cloth to wipe this up. I’ll be right back.”
Her words barely registered. I looked at Mitch who was watching me with a mixture of alarm and curiosity. “I have to go. I’ll call you.”
“Okay,” he said, looking confused. “Leah...”
By then I’d already turned my back and was hurrying toward the door. I called Jack on my cell phone as I headed to my Jeep.
“Yeah,” his whiskey voice said into my ear.
“Jack, the woman isn’t Chloe, she’s Velvet. A dancer I spoke to yesterday about Chloe.”
“Ah, hell.”
“I’m headed home right now. I need to check and make sure that everything is as I left it.” I was worried about Buddy. As a massive rottweiler, he could take on more than one intruder, I was certain. He was no match for a gun.
“I’ll meet you there. I’m on my way. Don’t go in without me, Kicks.”
I paused … too long.
“Kicks, I mean it. Don’t go in there without me.”
I sighed. “Okay, but move it.”
As I turned onto my street I saw Jack’s car pulling into my driveway. I wondered if he’d blown every red light and stop sign on the way. I pulled in beside him and almost forgot to park the Jeep before turning off the ignition. It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s just a small example of my tendency to act before thinking.
He was already heading to my doorstep by the time I’d gotten out of the Jeep.
“You’ve got a package here.” Jack was looking down at the cardboard box sitting on the plastic patio table.
My nerves were singing, and I looked up at the second floor window that served as both my weight room and spare room. As soon as Buddy hears the Jeep, or any vehicle in the driveway, he looks out that window. He wasn’t here.
My heart pummeled my chest.
“I need to see if Buddy’s okay.” My voice was barely audible. I couldn’t catch my breath.
As I approached the door my shaking fingers found my house key. As I looked in the glass window, I could see Buddy’s black shape pacing in front of the door.
I pushed the door open with more force than necessary, almost hitting Buddy in the head. “Hey, Bud.”
I turned on the kitchen and patio lights. His nub of a tail was wagging double time, and he had that handsome smile on his face. His eyes were shining more brightly. He looked bothered.
“What happened, baby? Was somebody here?” I rubbed his big block of a head and opened the door for him to come outside. He immediately began sniffing the air and ground, following a scent to the driveway where Jack’s car was now sitting.
“Somebody parked there before I did,” Jack said, watching Buddy. “Somebody who doesn’t belong. He knows my scent.”
I watched him for a moment, nodding. “Yeah. Somebody he didn’t like.”
We followed Buddy as he sniffed his way around the house, stopping below each window for a time before moving on.
“This is not good, Kicks.”
“Uh huh. Someone’s been scoping out my windows.”
“I guess I don’t have to ask you if you still keep them locked.”
“No, you don’t have to ask me that.”
When Buddy had sniffed his way back to the patio, Jack and I turned our attention back to the box.
“No note.” I reached out to pick the box up.
“Don’t, Leah. It could be a bomb.”
“It could be a sweater from my Aunt Glynnis, too.”
“Maybe we should call the cops.”
“And say what? There’s a present on my patio table, officer. Would you come and open it for me in case it’s a bomb?”
“Good point.” He leaned his head in, close to the box. “It’s not ticking.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” I reached out and picked up the box. It was heavy, and something moved around in it, causing a thunking sound.
I put the box back down and fished out my key ring, using my Jeep key to slit through the packing tape that had been used to seal the box closed.
“You sure you want to do this?” Jack said.
“Jack, neither of us will be able to just walk away from this box, and you know it.”
“True.”
I pulled open the flaps of the box. There were shreds of colored paper on top of whatever was in it. I started pulling the shreds out of the box, placing them on the table.
The objects beneath the paper began to show through.
“Oh,no,” I breathed. “Oh. No.”
I couldn’t stop removing the shreds until the objects were fully visible.
“Aw, Christ.” Jack turned around, walking a slow circle and coming back to the table again.
In the box was the head, face up, of Suzanna Ellero. One severed hand covering her eyes, the other shoved into her mouth.
* * *
Jessie came looking for Jack and showed up just as the police were leaving. His face was wary as he watched them go. “What’s going on, sis?”
“Oh, a little present was left on my patio table.” Everything seemed a little unreal to me as I spoke, and I figured I was in some kind of low level state of shock. “The severed head and hands of a woman I spoke with yesterday.”
“Holy shit.” He stared at me.
“Yeah.”
“This has to do with that missing girl you’re looking for?”
“That’s a safe bet.” I looked at Jack. “I don’t like the direction those questions were going in. Like I might be involved in Suzanna’s death.”
“What?” Jesse said, his eyes round with shock.
“They knew about you being in prison,” I told Jesse. “They w
ere implying that you and I share a common criminal gene.”
“Well, you do.” Jack stood, arms crossed. “Jesse’s a computer hacker and your bag was stealing cars. Neither of you is into killing people. You wanna back out, Kicks, it would be okay with me.”
“I think you know me a little better than that.” The truth was I was scared witless, but I’ve never been one to back down when bullied. The problem was that other people were getting hurt ... killed, because of my asking questions. “Suzanna didn’t deserve that.” I looked down at the floor. “This has Shanahan written all over it.” I let out a slow breath. “The guy in the pinstriped suit did warn me to back off. I didn’t listen. Of course.”
“I know what you’re thinking, Leah, and I want you to stop it right now. It’s not your fault that girl is dead,” Jack said. “If it hadn’t been you asking questions, it would’ve been somebody else, eventually.”
I gave a short, harsh laugh. “Well, I doubt if a cop would find that kind of a package at his door for poking around asking questions about a missing girl.” I shook my head. “She isn’t just a missing girl, is she? She’s a missing stripper. Although she’s the daughter of a judge, she’s still just a missing stripper. I don’t want to give in, but I don’t want anyone else getting hurt or killed because of me.”
Jack and Jessie just watched me, both waiting for what they knew would be the next thing to come out of my mouth.
I obliged. “I can’t let her death be for nothing. And I can’t give up on Chloe.”
“All right then,” Jack said. “Let’s figure out what comes next. We all know how likely the cops are to find out what happened to Chloe. And like Chloe, Suzanna was a dancer. I doubt they’ll do much about finding her killer.”
“There are good cops out there who do care.” I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Let’s face it. Stripping isn’t a job for a nice girl. It’s a dangerous job that attracts lots of freaks. And many people will think she asked for it. Deserved it, even.”
Jesse sat down at the table. “They must want to do something about the head and hands being delivered to you, right? I mean, come on.” He shook his head, looking at the floor. “Jesus. That poor girl.”
