She carefully filled her last tortilla. “She could have threatened to send you proof of their relationship.”
“I guess, but again, so what? She had more to lose than he did by telling me. Even if I could convince myself that he killed Monica in a fit of anger, I still have a hard time believing that he would try to hurt me or kill Danny in cold blood. Why kill Danny at all?”
“The same reason anyone else had, because Danny knew or saw something.”
“I just don’t see how keeping the relationship secret was enough to kill for. He couldn’t be certain that Danny was the only one who knew. They couldn’t have been that careful. I think Jeff in surveillance knew about the affair. He told me that he thought Alan knew Monica better than he was letting on.”
“I see your point. Why do you think Alan gave his gun to the security officer?”
“I’m guessing that he knew the police would want to question him, and he didn’t want to be armed when they took him in. That’s one of the things that makes me believe he didn’t kill her. If he was so determined to cover up the relationship that he would kill Danny and try to harm me, why call security and report Monica’s car to the police? Why not try to make some excuse to you and me for the presence of the tie, and then make sure the cops never find the car?” Instead, he immediately reports the car, and admits having an affair with Monica.”
She laid a napkin across her now empty plate. “I think you’re right. Either he’s innocent, or he’s trying to cover up a lot more than just having a relationship with Monica.”
There were just too many questions and never enough answers. When Evan called to say he was home, we asked for the check.
I thought I’d feel better after we ate, but what little I’d managed to get down now sat like a lump in the my stomach. I really needed to be alone and sort through the events of the day. Charlene took me back to the hotel, where I picked up my car and drove home. My call to Delgado went to voice mail, so I left him a text telling him about finding the car.
I wondered if they found anything else in Monica’s car. Had they taken Alan down to the police station? Was he still there? Even though I was exhausted, I was too restless to sleep. I changed into sweats and got Marcia’s diaries out, starting with the third one. Marcia didn’t write anything about Louie’s arrangement for how she was to pay for the room, but it became clear what had happened. Instead of newsy anecdotes, this one was filled with what looked like appointments. It read more like a day planner than a diary. Occasionally she listed information she had gleaned about her clients. In addition to the girls, she discovered that Louie was running numbers. She kept track of when and how the money was delivered. That’s how she met Jimmy. He was one of the runners. He intervened when one of her clients got rough with her.
I flipped through the next two diaries not finding anything else of interest, until I found the entry where they ran away together to get married.
“Jimmy asked me to marry him. I thought why not? He’s a nice enough guy. He says he wants to take me away from all this, get a legitimate job so we can settle down to a normal life, and raise a family. I wish I could believe that, but I don’t. Even though he’s older than I am, he’s a dreamer. He believes that just because he wants it to, everything will somehow work out. I know that he loves me, and I figure I don’t have much to lose. Life with him can’t be any worse than this. He wanted to just slip away, but I made him tell Louie. These are not people you can run away from. Louie wasn’t happy, but in the end, he gave us his permission. I don’t think he was surprised. In fact, I’d be willing to bet he already had our replacements picked out.”
Clearly, Jimmy wasn’t the love of her life and her predictions about him proved to be true. I skimmed through the next entries. Jimmy really did try to go straight. While Marcia went to night school and got her GED, Jimmy had a number of odd jobs from mowing lawns to construction. Whatever money he accumulated, he spent on one get rich scheme after another. Finally, Marcia suggested they break into the Senator’s place. Jimmy didn’t know anything about her former life, or ask how she came into possession of the security codes. All he cared about was getting enough money to make his dreams come true. The burglary went off without a hitch. For a while, they were able to enjoy life. It was only when all the money was gone and Jimmy decided to try to hock Mrs. Senator’s jewels, that they were caught.
“There was no way I was going to prison. I used my one phone call to call the senator. I told him that unless he came down and talked to me, he could read all about his little affair in the newspaper tomorrow. I told him that if I went to jail, I would be telling everyone exactly how I came in possession of his security codes. It didn’t take him long to decide to make a deal. I would make sure no one ever found out my maiden name, and he would make sure that I got probation and a nice little severance package”
It was getting late. I knew that shortly after this she changed her name and went to work at the hotel. I wasn’t sure I wanted to read about the secrets of people I might know. I flipped through several pages, looking to see if she mentioned anything about when she met Darryl, when this entry caught my eye.
“I saw Joey today!!!! It’s been so long I wasn’t sure it was him. He recognized me right away. I saw it in his eyes. He tried to pretend he didn’t know me, that I’d mistaken him for someone else. Like me, he’s using another name.”
I searched for more, but she never mentioned him again. She went on to record that Connie helped her get a job in HR. Flipping through all the rest of the diaries, I couldn’t find Joey’s name again anywhere. I went back to her first journal. Unlike most teenage girls, she never gave any kind of a description of what Joey looked like. I was wide-awake now. I picked up my cell phone, but it was too late to call anyone. Absently I slipped it into my pocket. Marcia was obsessed with Joey. There’s no way she would simply walk away and never see him again. What had happened to him for all those years? I was dying of curiosity, and I never met the man. The fact that she never mentioned him again had to mean something. Was this the secret that got her killed? I paced up and down, thinking.
What I needed to do was sit down and read every entry from that point on looking for clues. As tired as I was, it was no use starting now. I’d be sure to miss something. Tomorrow was Friday. I would have all weekend. I decided to call Mrs. Combs first thing in the morning and get her to give me a description of Joey. Maybe she would even have a picture.
Knowing I needed to get some sleep, I made myself some hot chocolate and ran a hot bath. I was dumping in the bubble bath when I heard the front door rattle. I shut the water off and listened. Scraping noises, terrified I shut off the bathroom light. What should I do? Stay here or run? I nearly jumped out of my skin when the security alarm started wailing. Then the phone started ringing. I could barely hear it over the blaring of the alarm. Before I’d started reading, I’d made sure to lock and bolt the front door. Thinking I had time to answer the phone and tell the security people to send the police, I hurried to the kitchen. I was wrong. Before I could reach the phone, I heard a huge crash in the front room. It sounded like someone had broken in the front door. Ignoring the phone, I reversed directions, running down the hallway to the garage. Just before I opened the back door to the garage, I heard the crackle of fire and smelled smoke. There was no need to be quiet, so I threw open the door and ran. I barely felt the cold cement of the garage floor under my bare feet as I sprinted to the car.
Once there, I realized I didn’t have my keys. The car was unlocked, but I had no way to start it. I thought about getting in and locking the doors until help came. How long would it take? What if he had a gun? I heard footsteps thundering down the hallway toward me. Making up my mind, I opened the car door, reached inside, and hit the garage door opener, then ran and rolled under the slowly ascending garage door just as the back door crashed open. I was on my feet and running when I saw the second man dressed in black standing at the end of the driveway, too far away for me to se
e his face.
I veered to my left, and vaulted over the next-door neighbor’s hedge. My feet slipped on the wet grass, but I managed to keep my balance. Seconds behind me, I heard a grunt, as my pursuer cleared the hedge. Once I reached the sidewalk, I ran flat out, bare feet slapping the cement. I didn’t have to look behind me to know he was closing the gap between us. I could hear the soft sound of leather soles hitting the pavement, out pacing me. Arms pumping, I let the adrenaline push me faster. I could hear sirens in the background. Every step I took was taking me farther and farther away from the protection they could provide. If I turned back, he would catch me. He was too close for me to consider trying to hide. My only option to keeping running and pray I could stay ahead of him until I could circle the block. Already panting and puffing just to keep up the pace, screaming was out of the question. I should have spent more time in the gym. The muscles in my legs were beginning to burn. Apparently, he wasn’t in any better shape than I was because he was no longer gaining on me. I could hear him panting.
This was a quiet neighborhood. Running under the streetlights, anyone looking out their window could easily see us. Although I was wearing light grey sweat pants and a white tank top, surely a barefoot woman, chased by a man dressed in black, couldn’t be dismissed as a simple jogger. Just my luck, all the houses I passed were dark. This was a twenty-four-hour town. Even at two a.m., someone should have been up.
As I rounded the corner, I must have slowed down, or he put on a burst of speed, because I felt his fingers touch the back of my shirt. A jolt of adrenaline kicked in, keeping me just out of reach. Spying a light in a back window of the next house, I darted to my right, running down the side yard banging on the wall as I went. A dog barked, but when I reached the back patio, the curtains stayed closed, and no one came to the doors. Racing across the patio, I skirted two black rubber trashcans. I threw them down behind me before racing around the other side of the house. I heard him kick one out of the way. Then glancing over my shoulder, I saw him slip and go down. I’d almost made it back to the sidewalk, when something crashed into me from the side, knocking me to the ground. The second man was on top of me, pinning me to the ground, sliding one gloved hand over my mouth.
I nearly passed out. With his weight on me, and his hand over my mouth, I couldn’t breathe. Barely mended ribs screamed in protest.
Putting a gun to my temple, he leaned down and whispered, “I’m going to take my hand away. Make one sound and it will be your last. You understand?” His glove smelled like smoke.
Desperate for air, I nodded. Keeping the gun in place, he withdrew his hand. The pressure of his weight lifted. He stayed straddling me on his knees until his partner caught up with us. Lying on my stomach with my head to the side, I concentrated on gulping down air. All I could see out of the corner of my eye was a black gloved hand, gripping a huge gun, the barrel touching the side of my head. Panting, his partner reached us. My attacker swung one leg over me and got to his knees. He moved the gun so it was pointing between my eyes. His partner grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet.
For the first time, I looked beyond the gun at the man who had tackled me. I’d never seen him before. In addition to the gloves, he wore a black long sleeved t-shirt, black jeans, and boots. At about six foot, he was sturdily built, barreled-chested, with thick muscular arms. Without lowering the gun or taking his close-set icy blue eyes off my face, he reached down and retrieved a black knit cap that had presumably covered his short blond hair.
I couldn’t see my running partner. Standing behind me, he twisted my arm up, pushing me forward. Together they marched me over to a black car, idling at the curb. It dawned on me, that while my running partner chased me, the gunman who set fire to my house, must have jumped in their car and followed us. My detour around the house had given him time to jump out and tackle me. My flight into the night was pointless. Between the two of them, they would have cut me off long before I reached any kind of safety.
The gunman opened the door to the back seat, and motioned me inside. I expected him to slide in next to me, but instead, he handed the gun to his partner. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, and got behind the wheel. I finally got a look at my running partner when he slid in beside me.
I knew instantly that this must be Joey Green. Now I understood why he had been willing to kill to protect his identity.
Chapter Eighteen
As soon the door shut, I heard all the locks click. I assumed that the driver had activated the child locks. Wanting to make sure, I tried the handle on my side. Joey just watched me, making no move to try to stop me. Of course, it was locked. The driver made a u-turn and drove slowly past my house. I stared out the tinted window, watching police cars and fire trucks pull up in front. Firemen, already suited up, jumped out and unrolled lengths of hose. No one paid any attention to us as we slowly passed by. Tears slipped down my face as I surveyed the wreckage. The flames already engulfed my living room. I could see them shooting through the roof, sparks lighting the night sky. The diaries must already be ashes. Once they killed me, no one would ever know that Joey Green was still alive. Two people had already died to keep his secret. I was certain they planned to kill me as well.
At least it would be quick. There was no reason to drag it out. They didn’t want information from me. They just wanted me dead. I flashed back to when I told my brother I would be safe, because I would never have any information that I hadn’t shared with the police. So much for my well thought out plan. I was the only person who knew that Joey Green was still alive, and now I would die. No, I refused to accept that. I searched my mind for some way to escape. The chances were dismal at best, locked in a car with two men bigger and stronger than me, one with a gun trained on me. No one knew where I was. My car was still in the garage. The police, including Delgado, would assume I was still in the house. It might be hours before they gained enough control over the fire to go inside. By that time, it would be too late. No knight on a white horse would be riding to my rescue.
I wondered where they were taking me. We left my housing area, made a left on Las Vegas Boulevard and another left on Charleston, before getting on interstate 15 going south. If they planned to shoot me and leave my body in the desert, then they should have gone north. Joey still had the gun lying casually on his lap.
I had no weapons to defend myself. I didn’t have a purse. I didn’t even have shoes. The only thing I had in my pocket was the phone. The phone, I’d completely forgotten the phone. I wasn’t sure how to use it without letting them know I had it. It didn’t have GPS, so no one could use it to follow me. Actually, the worst thing that could happen right now was for it to ring. If I could flip it open without Joey noticing, I could keep it from ringing, and maybe I could dial 911, hoping they could track the signal somehow. However, even if I could find the right buttons, the keypad made noise. Even if he missed those tones, he would be sure to hear the operator answer. All three of us had been sitting in silence. Talking . . . I needed to get him talking to cover the noise.
“Why did you kill Monica?” My voice sounded loud in the quiet car.
Joey turned to face me. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I really cared about her, just not as much as she wanted.” He turned back toward the window.
Great, just when I needed him to be long winded, I was getting one-liners. I tried again. “Was killing Danny an accident as well?”
He shook his head. “No, that was Hugo being overprotective.” He lifted his chin to indicate the driver in the front seat.
Hugo heard us. “It had to be done. You were just too squeamish to do it yourself.”
Joey nodded. “I suppose. Danny called me after Monica’s death, trying to blackmail me, inferring he knew all about the history between Monica and me. It’s too bad I didn’t realize he was only talking about my affair with Monica. Once I agreed to meet him, and he realized I had something to hide . . . well I guess Hugo’s right, we really had no choice.” He sounded
sad.
When he looked back toward the window, I carefully reached into my pocket and flipped open the phone. It didn’t make a noise. “You took the identity of the man killed in the hit and run accident in front of the restaurant all those years ago, didn’t you?”
He looked at me and shook his head. “See I knew you’d figure it out. I tried to warn you. I didn’t want to have to do this. You just couldn’t leave it alone could you?”
I had to keep him talking to cover the sound of the keypad. “How did you get away with it? Weren’t there relatives, people who would know that you weren’t him?”
He smiled. “That was the beauty of it. This young man about my age came into the restaurant that night. Even after he’d eaten, he just sat there drinking coffee. He seemed lonely and upset. When I was refilling his coffee, I asked if he was all right. He said he needed to talk to someone, would it be possible for me to sit down. We weren’t busy. It was late and most of the other diners had already gone, so I asked Louie and he said fine.
“He just sat there lost in thought, not saying anything at first, until one of the waitresses came over and asked if we were brothers. She said we looked alike. He just shook his head. He said I should be glad we weren’t related. I tried to tell him that his life had to be better than mine.”
My fingers found the buttons.
“He told me that when he was very young, his mother left his father and took him to England. He lived there with her, until she died the year before. The first time he saw his father was at her funeral. Since he was still underage, his father arranged for him to come to Chicago as soon as the school year ended. His father gave him no choice in the matter. All his friends, everything he knew was in England, but he had no relatives there to turn to. His father refused to continue paying for the boarding school he was attending.”
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