by Mari Carr
Bridget’s heart began to race with fear and anticipation when Mark’s phone beeped. He glanced at the screen. “Looks like it’s go time.”
He got out of the truck, crossing to open the passenger door for her. He kept her in front of him, covering her back against most of the open street behind them as they approached the bank.
Matt met them at the door. “Ten minutes, Bridge. Then we’re coming in to get you. I don’t like this. I’ve got a real bad feeling.”
She agreed, but they’d come too far to turn back now. “I’ll be fast. Promise.”
Walking in, she spotted Rodney standing near a side wall. He walked over to meet her. “Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
Crap. Did everyone have the heebie-jeebies? “I just want to talk to the bank manager.”
Rodney sighed. “I’ve done that. A few times. He’s an asshole and he’s not going to budge.”
Bridget ignored his skepticism and walked to the office near the back. “Is this his office?”
He nodded.
She knocked lightly and then entered when beckoned. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she was determined she wasn’t leaving this bank without looking in the safe-deposit box.
She pulled out the key and then, on a lark, she retrieved Lyle’s coded message as well. The manager smiled at her until Rodney entered the room as well. Then he frowned.
“Back again? Do you have a copy of the will?”
Rodney shot her a look that said, This is pointless, but he remained quiet.
She started to speak, then her gaze landed on something she hadn’t noticed before written lightly across the top of the message in pencil, something that had been erased.
“Did you write this?” she asked Rodney.
He glanced where she pointed. “Yeah, I was trying to keep track of our number codes. The theory of six and then the countdown idea. I think that was what the code turned out to be, but those numbers don’t make any sense.”
There were four digits that appeared to be random. Something clicked in her mind. She pulled out her cell phone, scrolling through her contacts list. She’d never been able to bring herself to delete Lyle’s name. “It’s the last four digits of his phone number.” She held her phone out to show Rodney the screen.
“That’s pretty clever. How the hell could you not remember that?”
She scowled. “First of all, we never really wrote down the number code—I’m a visual learner. And secondly, once I plugged Lyle’s number in my phone, I never looked at it again. Just hit his name on my phone list whenever I wanted to call him. It’s not like I had the damn thing memorized. Hell, I don’t even know my mother’s number. You know, this is the problem with cell phones. No one bothers to learn phone numbers anymore.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m not about to get into a debate about the pros and cons of smartphones with you. Can we just get this show on the road? We have a flight to catch.”
She wrote the numbers six, five, five, four on the piece of paper and handed it to the bank manager. He compared the numbers to his and then smiled at her.
“Very good,” he said. “Follow me.”
He led the two of them into a vault filled with safe-deposit boxes. Bridget used the key to open the box. Inside she found a flash drive and a letter. She grinned as she pulled them out. “Told you it would be on a flash drive.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “You always have to be right, don’t you?”
“I don’t have to be. I just naturally am,” she teased. They’d done it. They’d broken the code and retrieved the flash drive. For the first time in months, Bridget felt like everything was going to be okay.
“God help your guys.”
She knew he meant his words as a joke, but instead they sent a piercing pain straight to her heart. Okay. So maybe not everything. She’d come to think of the James twins as hers, but how much longer could that last? She was going home. There was a light at the end of her tunnel, and she couldn’t see Matt and Mark in the beam.
She handed Rodney the flash drive and opened the letter. It was handwritten. Her throat closed up when she spotted Lyle’s familiar messy scrawl.
Dear Bridget,
If you are reading this, two things have happened. One, you’ve figured out my clues—well done. And two, I’m dead. I knew the moment I uncovered what the judge was up to that my days would be numbered if I kept digging. I pursued it anyway. We all make decisions in life, Bridget. Some good, some bad. One of the best decisions I ever made was befriending you. You’re honest, smart and a little bit quirky—all good characteristics in my book. I loved you despite your inexplicable fascination for Hugh Grant, scary movies and smutty pirate books.
Now it’s up to you. Finish the job. Do what I couldn’t. The information contained on this drive can put not only Judge Lucian Thompson away for a very long time, but also thirty-seven criminals who bribed their way to freedom rather than pay for their crimes. I leave their fate in your hands.
Your friend,
Lyle
Bridget swallowed hard, wiping away the tears that started to fall. She hadn’t cried once for her friend. She’d been whisked out of the city under cover of darkness the night he was murdered. She hadn’t been able to go to his memorial service, and as she was shuffled from safe house to safe house, she hadn’t had time to grieve for him. Hearing his voice through the words of his letter opened the floodgates, and she feared there would be no stopping them now.
“Oh, damn, Bridget. I’m sorry, baby.” Rodney wrapped his arms around her while she cried. “I’m so sorry.”
She let her emotions go for only a few minutes. She didn’t dare indulge them for longer than that. She’d already lost one friend over the contents of this drive. She couldn’t allow anyone else to die. She sniffled and wiped her eyes quickly. “I know we have to go.”
Rodney nodded. “I wish there was more time for you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I know what I need to do. I can do it.”
Rodney placed a friendly hand on her cheek. “You are one of the bravest women I’ve ever met. You’re going to be the greatest reporter New York City has ever seen. I know that in my soul. I’m proud to know you.”
She smiled, bending forward to kiss Rodney on the cheek. “And you’re my hero. Thank you for everything.”
Bridget tucked Lyle’s letter into her pocket, while Rodney put the flash drive in his. They walked toward the entrance of the bank together. Bridget felt a strange unease when she spotted Matt and Mark’s backs through the window. A wave of panic, a premonition of danger tweaked at the edge of her consciousness.
Rodney turned to her. “Stay here for a minute. Let me go first to make sure everything’s clear.”
“Rodney. Wait.”
He winked. “No time. Don’t worry, kitten. It’s a piece of cake from here on out.”
Her heart raced with fear as he walked out of the bank, then she took a deep breath and moved. She was about to open the door to follow when shots rang out in the street. She reacted without thought, running outside in time to see Rodney fall. She started to run for him, but she was tackled from behind. Refusing to stop, she clawed herself closer to Rodney.
“Goddammit, Bridget. No.” Mark’s voice sounded loud in her ear as he covered her. More shots sounded and she felt something like gravel pelt her face.
“Get her to the fucking car!” Rodney yelled, his voice laced with pain. “Bridget, take this. Get to New York.” He pressed the flash drive into her hand.
She grasped his fingers. “I’m not leaving you.”
An engine roared to life and a truck jumped the curb, screeching to a halt next to where she and Mark lay on the sidewalk. It provided cover from the unseen gunman. Matt flung the door open. “Jump in!”
Mark rose quickly, lifting her with him and tossing her into the cab of the truck. Matt moved over to the passenger side, his hand pressed against the back of her skull. She pulled off
the stupid wig and tossed it to the floor.
“Keep your head down,” Matt commanded.
More bullets hit the truck, one of them smashing the back window.
Bridget screamed. Mark climbed into the truck and floored it, spinning tires in his haste to escape.
“Rodney!” she yelled, determined they go back for him.
“Jake has him,” Mark said, not hitting the brakes. “He and the security guard dragged him into the bank while we put you in the truck. They’ve got him inside. He’s going to be fine.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. The police had been alerted and God, please let there be an ambulance for Rodney.
There’d been blood. So much blood. Lyle’s lifeless face formed behind her eyelids, only it wasn’t Lyle anymore. It was Rodney. She choked on a sob. “He was shot. We have to go back.” She tried to sit up as Mark drove past the city limits at an ungodly speed.
She’d barely lifted her head when more shots rang out, one of them striking the back of the truck.
“Fuck!” Mark looked in the rearview mirror. “The bastard is chasing us.”
Matt, keeping low, peered over the seat, looking back. “Black Mercedes, tinted windows. Can’t see the driver. Shit, get down! He’s firing again.”
Matt ducked down, covering Bridget as Mark swerved the vehicle across both lanes, trying to dodge the bullets.
Mark took a sharp turn off the main road, not bothering to brake. For a second, Bridget would have sworn they were on two wheels.
Mark slapped the steering wheel. “Mother fucker. He’s still back there.”
They swerved sharply again and Bridget slid into Matt’s lap. Matt kept her head pressed down. She felt dizzy and sick to her stomach as the car made another hard turn, this time to the left.
Matt glanced back. “Good call taking Old Mill Road.”
Mark nodded. “Figure he’ll have a hard time driving. Might keep him from shooting at our asses.”
They took two more turns at high speed. Bridget feared there was no way they could continue at this pace without crashing.
“Hairpin’s coming up,” Matt warned.
“I know.” Mark jerked the wheel roughly to the right, and this time Bridget knew they were on two wheels. She felt the truck tip sideways and closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.
Instead, the truck’s airborne tires hit pavement once more. Mark struggled to keep the truck on the road as the back end swerved.
A loud crash sounded from behind them. Bridget felt Mark press on the brakes.
“What are you doing? Why are you stopping?” she asked.
“Christ.” Mark stopped the truck completely as he and Matt turned in their seats to look behind them. Bridget lifted her head, expecting them to push her down again. She knew when neither man took notice of her that the car chase had indeed ended with a bang.
As she peered over the back of the seat, she saw the Mercedes that had been chasing them burst into flames, the entire car engulfed in mere seconds. It had struck a tree, the car nearly sliced in half.
“The man?” she asked. “Isn’t he—” She paused, unable to think of the man burning to death.
Mark shook his head. “I doubt he survived the crash, Bridget.”
His words made sense. The car had been mangled beyond recognition.
For several moments, they sat spellbound in the middle of the road, watching the car burn. Shock permeated her body, accompanied by unbelievable relief. They were alive. They’d survived. Glancing down, she opened her clenched fist and looked at the flash drive Rodney had handed her. Had they all survived?
So much violence. So much death. All because of what was contained on that small piece of plastic.
Matt’s cell phone rang and they jumped. Matt ran a hand over his face. “Fuck. I think I just lost twenty years off my life.”
Mark’s hand landed on his brother’s shoulder. “At least you still have twenty to lose.”
Matt nodded. “We’re alive.”
It was an obvious statement, and yet his tone proved he was as amazed by that fact as Bridget.
His phone continued to ring. Digging it out of his pocket, he answered. “Yeah.”
He was silent as the person on the other end spoke. “We’re fine, but you might want to send a police car out to Old Mill Road. There’s a dead hit man on the hairpin curve.”
Bridget whispered, “Rodney.”
Matt nodded that he’d heard her, but continued to listen to the caller. “I’ll tell her,” he finally said as he hung up.
“Who was that?” Mark asked.
“Jake. He’s at the hospital with Rodney. Caleb was on duty, thank God, and he’s with him. The bullet lodged in his arm. He lost a lot of blood, and while the damage is pretty extensive, Caleb doesn’t think it’s life-threatening.”
Bridget released a soft sob. Rodney wasn’t going to die.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulders, misreading her response. “Caleb knows his stuff. If he says Rodney will be okay, he will.”
“I, I know,” she replied through choked sobs. “I w-was j-just so scared.”
Mark lifted her face, cupped her cheek and offered her a comforting smile. “It’s going to be okay.”
She swallowed heavily. For the first time in a long time, she believed those words. “I want to go see him.”
“No.” Matt looked at Mark. “Jake said Rodney was insistent we make that flight. Said under no circumstances should we bring Bridget back to Saratoga.”
“What?” she said. “No, no way. I’m going back there. I want to be with him.”
Matt sighed. “Bridget. We’re under the gun here. The judge’s trial is due to start in two days. The New York police department wants you back there and in protective custody now. Rodney said the attorneys are going to want to see that flash drive. We have to go to the airport.”
She wiped away a stray tear. “I can’t leave him here alone. Please don’t ask me to do that.”
Mark grasped her hand and squeezed it. “He won’t be alone. I know my kid brother. Jake will stay by his side until Rodney’s begging for privacy. That kid will stick like glue. You have my word.”
Bridget smiled at the thought. She doubted Rodney would ever want Jacob to leave. She’d seen the way they looked at each other. Though Rodney insisted he and the youngest James brother were nothing more than friends, Bridget knew there was something deeper there, waiting to emerge.
Mark put the truck in drive and turned it around. “We need to get to the airport or we’re never going to make our flight.”
Bridget suppressed a shiver as they drove by the wrecked vehicle. “What about him?”
Matt looked out the passenger’s window at the dying flames. “There’s nothing we can do for him now. Jacob said he’d send the police out here. Rodney knows who he was, so he can fill in the local law authorities. Other than that, they’ll just have to wait until we get back to Saratoga after the trial to answer any more questions about the details of the crash.”
Bridget sat up and buckled her seat belt. She caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror. There were scratches on her face. She reached up to touch them.
Mark caught her motion. “Some bullets broke the bricks on the side of the bank.” He held up his left arm, showing her his scratches. “I caught some of those little shattered bits too.”
She shivered, partially because of the cold from the broken rear window and partially from fear.
They’d come so close to dying. So very, very close.
They sat in silence as Mark drove. There were no more words left to say.
They’d found the flash drive.
Rodney had been shot.
They’d almost been killed.
She was going home.
A million different thoughts flashed through her mind, none of them landing for long. She was tired of being scared, of being cold. If she could simply walk the last few steps—testify
at the trial—her months-long nightmare would be over. It would all be over. Matt and Mark would return to Wyoming and she would be free to return to her normal life.
She was close. So very, very close.
But to what?
Chapter Eleven
Bridget walked out of the courtroom and pulled her winter coat around her more tightly. It was a bright, sunny day in March, but she couldn’t tell it by the temperature. The weatherman had reported this morning they could expect a bone-chilling day. He’d been right. She suspected the red dial wouldn’t touch the twenty-degree mark.
However, even the cold couldn’t freeze the warmth radiating inside her. The jury had deliberated less than four hours. They’d found Lucian Thompson guilty of first-degree murder. The crooked judge was facing life in prison for his crime, and Lyle’s murder trial was just the first of a long line of court appearances the man faced. Thanks to the information her friend had discovered, the judge was also facing multiple charges of bribery, corruption and coercion. Arrest warrants had been issued for nearly three dozen more criminals as well. Justice had at last been served.
Her solitude only lasted a moment as several people caught sight of her and swarmed. The first to reach her was the Commissioner of the New York City police force. “You and Rodney did a big service for this city. Tell him when you talk to him, his job is waiting for him.”
She nodded. While the offer was wonderful and everything Rodney had hoped for, she wished it hadn’t come at so high a price. “I’ll tell him.”
Several reporters surrounded her, but only one familiar face stood out. Bridget’s editor in chief at The Reporter walked up to her. “You did an amazing job with your testimony. I’m sure that’s what prompted the fast decision. Listen, I was thinking, what if you wrote up a multi-article exclusive on this case from beginning to end for the paper? We’ll run it on the front page over the next few weeks.”
