by W. L. Dyson
“Did I ask you for an opinion?”
Ignoring the flash of temper in the blond's eyes, he walked over to his wet bar and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer the hired help any. “I want that laptop back in my hands, and I won't tolerate anyone standing in the way of that. Am I understood?”
“Understood,” the blond replied tightly.
“Then I suggest you get back out there and find our little Zeena. There aren't that many places she can hide.”
In less than one week, he was going to be moving the largest shipment he'd ever handled, and the last thing he needed was some loose end bringing it all crashing down on his head. And Zeena was a loose end.
Glancing at his Rolex, Jon turned to his two men. “Get out.”
The two men nodded and left.
With drink in hand, he settled down on the sofa. If they'd gone a little slower and hadn't killed Danny as soon as they did, he'd have the laptop by now. Why Danny had thought he could steal from Jon Carver and get away with it was a mystery, but one that cost Danny his life.
When his phone rang, he frowned and unclipped it from his belt. “Yel-lo.”
“It's me.”
Jon sat up straighter. Richie. “You okay?”
“I'm great. My new friend and I are just relaxing.”
He took a swig from his drink as he let that stew for a moment. In spite of the light, almost-too-casual tone in Richie's voice, Jon knew Richie had been getting himself into trouble. “What did you do?”
“Me? Nothing.”
“Talk, Richie.”
“Nothing. Really. Just sent the bounty hunter a few little reminders. A promise I made to him.”
“Fool! I got business going down and you're provoking him? You trying to ruin me?” Jon ambled to his feet. Began pacing. Richie had his moments where he was worth his weight in gold. This wasn't one of them. The man had a temper and love of grudges. The combination had been getting Richie into tight corners all his life. Of course, he was such a dirty fighter that he usually got himself out of those corners with barely a scratch, but Nick Shepherd wasn't the type to let Richie walk away without some serious damage. If he let Richie walk away at all.
“Chill, Jon. Ain't nuthin I can't handle. It's me he needs to watch out for.”
“I want you to stop for now. Give me a week or so to finish up my business. Then you want to bring all hell down on your head, be my guest.”
“Hey, hey. Don't go all bad on me. I reminded him of a promise, that's all.”
“That better be all. I'm serious. This is important.”
“Yeah, I got it. Hey, I got nothing going for me, ya know?”
“I hear ya. I'll send someone soon.”
“Okay. Soon.”
“Soon.”
Jon hung up the phone, grabbed his drink, and headed for his bedroom. He had to get Richie some clothes and bring him in.
And make sure he stayed away from a certain bounty hunter for a while.
Wednesday, 1:45 a.m.
White Marsh, Maryland
Nick whipped his SUV into Jessica's driveway, parked, then jumped out. Running across the yard, he cleared the three steps to the porch and yanked open the storm door. He pounded on the door. Hit the doorbell. Pounded again.
Jessica opened the front door. “Nick?”
Nick didn't wait for her to invite him in. “When did you find out she was missing? Did she go out and not come back? Did someone take her from her room?”
“Whoa. Slow down.” Jessica eased the front door closed. “I told you in the last phone message. She's fine.”
“Fine?” Nick slid down the wall to land on the floor with a light thud as relief exploded through him. “I didn't get that message.”
“She's upstairs, and I've grounded her for another week.” Jessica tied the belt of her robe tight. “Are you okay?”
Nick nodded. “What happened?”
“Seems our daughter decided she didn't like being grounded, so she snuck out. I was absolutely frantic, but Linc found her.”
His old partner on the force. Slowly he climbed to his feet. “You called the police?” Why was he surprised? It's what she should have done. But something about having another man save the day for his own family didn't sit well.
Jessica nodded as she yawned. “When I couldn't get through to you, I called Linc. He stopped by. She was hiding out in the backyard, hoping I'd thought she had run away.”
Standing there in the foyer of his old home, watching his wife yawn, listening to the grandfather clock chime out the quarter hour, brought back a rush of memories. He choked out a laugh. “Our drama queen. Remember when she used to hold her breath until we promised to give her what she wanted?”
“You were the one that always gave in. I had a hard time convincing you that she wouldn't actually die.”
Nick laughed. “Oh, I knew she wouldn't die, but she went to so much effort to get something out of us that I couldn't help but reward it.”
Jessica smiled. “And now look at this teenage monster we have created.”
“She'll get over it, won't she?” he asked.
“I hope so.” Jessica yawned again. “Sorry. I don't mean to keep yawning.”
He watched her for a few minutes, remembering how soft her skin was and how when he held her, she would melt into him like a little kitten, purring with contentment. When he realized he was about two seconds from leaning in and kissing her sweet lips, he stiffened. “Get some sleep. We'll talk about this another time.” He pulled open the front door. “Make sure you lock up behind me.”
She frowned, holding the door. “Nick? Are you going to tell me what's going on? You're not normally this…frantic.”
He stepped onto the porch and turned to look at her. Then he shook his head. He wasn't sure how much he should tell her. No sense sending her into a frenzy over threats that he might be able to handle without a problem.
“I'm just tired. More tired than I thought, I guess. Didn't mean to come barreling in here like a madman.”
“Come on, Nick. Don't try and shut me out. Is there something I need to know?”
“No. Really. Everything's fine. Well, it's not fine, but it's nothing I can't handle.”
He watched Jessica's expression shift to disappointment as she gently shut the door.
As he pulled out of the driveway, his mind flooded with confusion. As badly as he wanted to bring in Richie Carver, was he willing to risk his daughter? No. Could he allow a criminal to make him jump through hoops? Absolutely not. So how was he going to bring Richie in and keep Krystal safe at the same time?
8
Wednesday, 9:30 a.m.
Prodigal offices, Baltimore
Nick sorted through the mail while Jenna watered the plants in a corner of the front lobby. With only about four hours of sleep, he was moving on nothing more than caffeine and determination. It was also making him a bit touchy, so when he felt the urge to tell Jenna to leave the plants alone and process the mail, he swallowed it.
He was checking his watch when Steven came through the front door and took off his coat. Steven tilted his head. “I know I'm a few minutes late. I had an important errand to run this morning.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“Not this morning, Nick. I'm not in the mood for it.”
In spite of telling himself at least ten times that he wasn't going to get into a fight with his brother, Nick just couldn't seem to keep his temper from spiking. “Are you in the mood to work, or is that pushing it?”
Steven draped his jacket over his arm, walked toward Nick, and stopped just inches away. “You know what, Nick? You aren't the only one that's worried about the business. Maybe I'm trying to save it too.”
“It's not your responsibility to save it. It's mine. And I have it under control. All I'm asking from you is that you do your job or go find another one.”
Steve tapped Nick's chest with his finger. “I own as much of this company as you do, something you seem to for
get. And I have a vested interest in making sure it survives.”
Nick gripped Steven's arm. “What could you possibly do that I haven't already done?”
“How about locate Marti? Remember when you asked me to try to find her? Turns out, I do my job, Nick.”
“You found Marti? Where is she?”
“She had me send money to a Western Union in Gallipolis, Ohio.”
“Why didn't you call me? I could've had people waiting for her.”
“She's not a criminal, Nick. She needs to come back on her own terms, not handcuffed and dragged like a fugitive.”
Nick wasn't sure whether he wanted to shake Steven or hit him. “How can we convince her to come back, whether on her terms or not, if we don't try—”
“I did try, you jerk! I begged her to come—”
“What did she say?” Nick pointed to his office. “Come tell me everything.”
Steven followed Nick into his office, talking the whole way. “Yes, I talked to her. Yes, I told her about Mom and Dad. Yes, I explained why we needed her to come back.”
“So she's on her way?”
Steven tossed his coat over one chair and sat down in another. “You aren't listening to me. She isn't coming back. Not yet, anyway. But I'm working on it.”
“If she knows about everything, how could she refuse to come home?”
“All I could get out of her was that she didn't want to have anything to do with the family. But she promised me that she would stay in touch. I'll try again another time.”
Nick leaned forward. “Steven, we don't have time to wait until a more convenient time for her. If she doesn't come back here and sign the collateral papers, there's not going to be anything to come back to.”
Wednesday, 10:00 a.m.
Tri-County Electrical Supply, Baltimore
Annie slowly made her way to her cubicle at her father's office and sat down. She stared at the stacks of accounts receivables and wished once again that she'd called in sick. Every time she thought about that black body bag being hauled out of that building, her stomach shifted and rolled, threatening to send her flying to the bathroom. She didn't know Danny Sloop, but he was dead. And Barbara had been with him. Her stomach flipped again. Was Barbara dead as well? Was her body dumped somewhere?
She'd shown up at work at eight, turned on her calculator, fired up her computer, and tried to concentrate on logging the incoming checks. By the time she'd made four mistakes in five entries, she knew she had to try something else to get her mind off the previous night's events. She tried going to the break room and getting hot tea, but that didn't help either. By 10:30 she hadn't accomplished more than fifteen minutes’ worth of work.
“Annie, I'm going across the street to Starbucks.” Monica, one of Annie's co-workers from cubicle next door to Annie, stood in the entry, buttoning her coat. “You want me to pick up anything for you? Maybe a muffin?”
With a heavy sigh, Annie pushed away from her desk. “I don't know if I can eat a thing. I still feel so lousy.”
“And you look every bit as bad as you feel.” Monica hitched her shoulder bag. “Personally, I think you should go home, make a cup of hot tea, curl up on the sofa, and watch Oprah. Don't come back to work until you feel better.”
“Sounds divine, but I need to get these checks logged in.”
“Leave them on my desk and I'll do them. I'm pretty much caught up on orders.”
“You sure?”
“I'm sure,” Monica insisted with a little bit of laugh. “Go home.”
After letting her dad know that Monica was covering for her, she gathered her things and drove back home. But Oprah wasn't on her agenda. She called Prodigal and asked to speak to Nick. She was told he was in a meeting and left a message. Then she made the hot tea and curled up on the sofa, but she didn't bother with the television. Instead, she pulled out her cross-stitch project and resumed where she'd left off a few days earlier.
Cross-stitching allowed her mind to wander where she wanted it to go. Where was Barbara, and how could she find her? It was pretty clear now that her original plan wasn't going to work. She wasn't cut out for the streets.
The phone rang, and she almost ignored it, but thinking that it might be Nick, she crawled off the sofa to pick it up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Sis. Looking for me?”
Wednesday, 10:45 a.m.
Prodigal offices, Baltimore
Jenna stepped into the doorway of Nick's office. “Nick?”
“Come on in.”
He chucked two Excedrin into his mouth and washed them down with water. “What's wrong?”
She flipped open her steno pad. “I've called the last three surety companies on the list. Only one was even remotely interested in setting you up, but they are going to limit you severely.”
“How severely?”
“Twenty thousand, tops.”
Nick winced and took another swig from his water bottle. “That's not enough. I don't want to be trapped into only writing low bails. We'd be competing with the little mom-and-pop operations like Kline and Robbins. I don't want to hurt them. They've been good to us.”
“Then we're stuck with having to go with property collateral.”
“I know.” He pushed back from his desk, too concerned to sit still, too frustrated to pace. “Did Steven tell you he talked to Marti last night?”
“I overheard. How did it go?”
“He said he tried to talk her into coming back, but she refused. I don't know how hard he tried, or even if he explained how serious everything is.”
“I'm sure he tried his best.”
But Nick wasn't so sure how good Steven's best was. Steven had never been much of a go-getter, content to just go his own way at his own pace and let the cards fall where they may.
Jenna picked up the file folders from his desk and left. He reached over, picked up the phone, glanced down at the message from Annie McNamara on his desk, and dialed. When he heard the answering machine pick up, he set the phone down. Well, he'd try later, or she had his cell phone if it was important.
He grabbed his jacket. As he passed Jenna's desk, he said, “I'm going to hit the streets and see if I can get any leads. Call me if you need me.”
Wednesday, 12:25 p.m.
Downtown Baltimore
“Annie?”
It was little more than a harsh whisper, but it was enough to make Annie nearly drop her teacup. “Barbara? Where are you?”
“Never mind that. Why are you looking for me?”
“You heard about that?”
“I have friends on the street, Annie. You may find it hard to believe, but they actually watch out for me. Especially when someone that looks just like me starts asking questions. Now, what do you want?”
Annie closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Barbara, I don't know what you're into, but that guy you were with—he's dead. They found his body last night.”
“Took 'em long enough.” There was a short pause and then a heavy sigh. “I didn't mean that the way it sounds. It's just that once again, the nobodies of this world are just ignored.”
The stark disillusionment in Barbara's voice shouldn't have been so much of a surprise, but it pulled at Annie's heart. “Why don't you let me pick you up? I can take you someplace safe.”
Barbara's laugh sounded as much bitterness as amusement. “Like you could hide me from these guys. You just don't know what you're trying to get yourself into, Annie. Get out before you get hurt. Please.”
“What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Don't worry about it. I'll be fine.”
“Barbara, I need to meet with you. It's important.”
The silence hung between them so long, Annie wasn't sure Barbara was still there. “Barbara?”
“I'm here. Meet me at Jiffy's at two. If you aren't there by quarter after, I'm sorry, but I'll be gone. These guys have eyes all over the streets, and I can't take a chance on someone seeing me and dropping a di
me on me.”
Before Annie could say anything else, there was a click. She felt frustrated and scattered. Should she call the bounty hunter and let him know? She weighed the pros and cons while she dressed. If she told him, and he caught Barbara, she had no guarantee that he'd turn Barbara over to her for a while. Could she trust him?
By the time she reached for her car keys, her mind was made up. She'd get Barbara on her own.
Wednesday, 1:45 p.m.
Park Heights, Baltimore
Nick pulled into the drive-through at Taco Bell and ordered a couple of double-decker tacos and an extra-large soda. Then he pulled into a parking spot that faced the street to eat his lunch. Glancing up at the gunmetal gray sky through his windshield, he wondered if it was going to rain or sleet. The weatherman hadn't predicted any precipitation at all, but the sky was promising storms.
Since this morning, he'd spoken to just about everyone he knew on the street, and no one had seen anyone he needed to find. Not Tommy Lester. Not Zeena Bantham either, although rumors were flying around about her like flies on a sweaty horse. Something about some items stolen from Jon Carver. If the rumors were true, the woman was on a short ride to the graveyard if Nick didn't find her first.
As he bit into his taco, his cell phone rang.
“Bounty hunter?”
It was one of his street snitches. “Yeah.”
“Saw that girl you're looking for. Zee? She's using the pay phone right down from A-One Pawn. You know the place?”
“I know it. Thanks. Catch up with me later.”
“’kay.”
Now he could only hope the snitch had called him before he called the Carvers. He held the taco in his mouth as he started up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. He ate as fast as he drove and dialed Conner on his cell. He got his voice mail. Then he tried Rafe, who answered. “I've got a lead on Zeena. Meet me down at A-One Pawn. And find Conner.”
