Dangerous Passage

by Lisa Harris

  Avery checked the jagged gash on her arm. “I want to look downstairs. Clearly he was after something.”

  While she might be right, Jackson wasn’t convinced she needed to do anything but wait for the ambulance. “You can do that later. Your house is secure for now, which means any clues he left behind will be here when you get back.”

  She shot him a weak smile. “I’m okay. Really. I need to do this. The quicker we can find out who broke in, the further ahead we’ll be.”

  Jackson found himself relenting. “You have until the ambulance arrives, okay?”

  “Okay, boss.”

  Jackson grabbed a pair of flip-flops for her from beside the back door, then helped her downstairs with Mitch following behind. While he hadn’t found any other significant injuries, there was a good chance she had a concussion, and that had him worried. Maybe he was being overprotective, but the last thing she needed was to lose her balance on the narrow staircase.

  Downstairs, she stopped in front of the window where glass lay shattered across the top of the desk. The burglar’s point of entry. Photos had been rummaged through, the crime board marked through with a black marker, and her painting dumped onto the floor.

  “Avery?” He watched while she examined the damage without touching anything. “You okay?”

  “For the moment. I’ll have to deal with my emotions later. For now, we need to figure out why he was here and what he took.”

  Mitch stood in the corner of the room, hands clenched at his sides and a scowl written across his face. It was clear he didn’t appreciate anyone messing with his partner.

  Jackson moved to stand beside her. “Tell me what you notice.”

  “I had three files sitting on the upper left-hand corner of my desk. All three are missing.”

  “Good. That gives us a place to start. What were the cases?”

  “The first one was my notes from our current investigation.”

  “And the second file?”

  “It was related to the Browning case.” Her leg started shaking.

  Jackson rolled the black office chair toward her. “Why don’t you sit down?”

  Instead of arguing like he expected, Avery sank into the office chair. “Until about a month ago, it was classified as a cold case. Sarah Browning was murdered in her bedroom five years ago, and even though most of the evidence pointed to her husband, the prosecutor was never able to get a conviction. I pulled out my personal notes from the case a few days ago because some new evidence surfaced recently. Mr. Browning is going to be tried for the murder of his wife, and I was going to be a witness for the prosecution.”

  “And the third file?”

  Avery heard Jackson’s question and tried to force her mind to focus. To bring order to the chaos surrounding her so she could make sense of what she had found. But nothing added up. Her head hurt, her ears were ringing, and the cut on her arm ached along with every muscle in her body. But as awful as she felt, she wasn’t ready to stop yet. “Michael’s case.”

  “Anything significant?” Jackson asked.

  Avery rubbed the back of her neck. “I was following a new lead regarding a witness. He was named in one of the reports, but I never found any record of a follow-up or mention of his name in any of the other reports. His name was . . . Ben. Ben Jacobs.”

  “Did you tell anyone about this Jacobs?”

  She tried to answer Mitch’s question, but thinking hurt. “Besides my father, I made a few phone calls trying to track him down. But it’s no secret that I’ve been investigating Michael’s death.”

  “Did you find Jacobs?”

  “Not yet, but I do know that he’s been in and out of prison, with no evident connection that I’ve been able to find to Michael’s death or his undercover role. I started putting out some feelers. I planned to follow up on any information I could get, which so far isn’t much. Which leads us back to our current case. It’s the only option that makes sense.” She caught the concern in Jackson’s eyes while she spoke. “For some reason, he went upstairs, encountered me in the kitchen. If the two of you hadn’t shown up . . .”

  No. She wouldn’t think about what could have happened if the two of them hadn’t arrived when they did.

  Sirens loomed in the distance.

  Jackson reached for her hand. “You’re not going to argue, are you?”

  Avery shot him a half smile that managed to only make her head hurt worse. “Between you and Mitch, I don’t think I have a choice.”

  25

  After a thorough exam by the doctor, Jackson drove Avery back home from the hospital, her arm stitched up and thankfully no signs of a concussion. The doctor had suggested she rest the next few days. Right. She’d find time to rest after she found out why someone had broken into her house and attacked her. All she needed now was a hot shower, clean clothes, and she’d be as good as new. Or at least pretty close to it.

  Thirty minutes later, she’d showered, dressed, and fed the animals. Someone had already swept and mopped the kitchen floor. There was no sign of Mrs. Whiskers, but Tiger was on her perch, looking content. Too content. All Avery could do was hope it wasn’t too late for the furry rodent.

  Mitch had stayed to work with the police going over the crime scene, and had just finished rehanging the door they’d kicked in when she stepped back into the living room. Jackson was opening a bag of fast food at the table.

  “Find anything?”

  Mitch dropped the screwdriver he was holding back into the toolbox. “The CSU team found a couple of things, including traces of blood on the window where we believe the man cut himself. Hopefully we can find something that will allow us to catch him. Carlos and Tory were here, but returned to the precinct to continue follow-up on leads from last night.”

  “I appreciate it. Everything.”

  “I know.” He smiled, but the normal banter she was used to was missing. This morning’s incident had them all feeling subdued and out of control. “Feel better?”

  The hot shower and pain pills had helped, but even they couldn’t erase the lingering fear. “Physically, yes, but I can’t shake the feeling of knowing someone was inside my house.”

  “Unfortunately the emotional trauma of situations like this often lasts longer than the physical scars.” Jackson held up some orange juice. “But hopefully this will help. I picked up some breakfast while you were getting ready. Hungry?”

  “Yeah. Actually I am.” That had to be a good sign. And there was no denying she was glad he was here. “Thank you for being here for me. Both of you. If you hadn’t shown up when you did . . .”

  “We did show up, so you don’t have to wonder about what-ifs.” Mitch nodded toward the table. “Go on and eat, and I’ll join you as soon as I’m finished up here.”

  Avery’s hands shook as she pulled down three plates from the cupboards. She set them down on the counter, then drew her hands back, hoping Jackson wouldn’t notice, but he did.

  “Maybe you should go lie down.”

  “The doctor said I’ll be fine.”

  He rested his hands against her shoulders and turned her toward him. “The doctor also said that you should rest.”

  “I will.”

  “When?”

  “When all of this is over.”

  “I’m not sure that’s soon enough.”

  “It’s going to have to be.”

  She thought he was going to argue with her. Instead, he pulled her closer and let his lips meet hers. All the tangled emotions of the past few days seemed to come into focus as she responded to his kiss. Fear of commitment, of neglecting someone, of not being able to be enough to everyone—even the reality that someone had broken into her house—none of it seemed to matter at the moment. All that mattered was that Jackson had been there when she needed him, she was safe, and they were together.

  The cell phone vibrated in Avery’s pocket, then rang. She pulled slowly away from Jackson’s kiss and embrace, wishing she could forget the rest of the world f
or the moment.

  “I’m sorry.” She glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Tess.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Avery answered the call, then leaned back against the counter, Jackson’s arm still protectively around her waist. Between him, Mitch, and her father, whoever had broken into her house better watch themselves. “Tess. Morning, sweetie.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. How did you sleep?”

  She couldn’t mention the break-in. Not yet, anyway. Tess—and her mother—would only worry. “A few bad dreams, but I’m okay.”

  “How are the pets?”

  Avery hesitated while Jackson moved to finish setting the table and laying out breakfast.

  “Mrs. Whiskers is loose.”

  “Loose?”

  “I’m trying to find her.” Avery shivered. With her luck, she’d find her snooping in her cupboards or crawling across her pillow one morning.

  “She’s fast, Mom. You remember when Ricky got out of the cage.”

  “Trust me, I remember.”

  Tess had been heartbroken. The only thing they’d found was his tail, but they’d still held a memorial service.

  “Listen, sweetie, I want you to stay at Grandma and Papa’s for now, but how about we plan on dinner? I’ll bring some sweet and sour chicken takeout.”

  “My favorite.”

  “I know.” She’d have to explain her injuries, not only to Tess but to her parents as well. Something that would be easier done in person.

  “You’ll feed the animals?”

  “Already done.”

  “Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too, baby.”

  Avery hung up and dropped the cell phone onto the counter, her hand still shaking. “Looks as if I have a mouse to catch . . . that is, if Tiger hasn’t already gotten her.”

  Jackson was shoving his phone into his back pocket. “I just got a call. A match to the partial print off the card you received last night.”

  He had her attention now. “Who is it?”

  “His name is Landon Rice.”

  “What do we know about him?”

  “He’s got a few priors, including burglary and assault, though nothing as serious as murder. But he’s certainly been on the wrong side of the law more than once.”

  Until they brought him in and questioned him, everything was simply speculation, but that didn’t stop the scenarios from running through her mind. “So either he’s our murderer or our murderer had him order the flowers since cash would be untraceable and online he’d have to use a credit card.”

  “I don’t know, but they’ve put a BOLO out on him.”

  “Good. I think I’d rather catch Rice than Mrs. Whiskers.”

  Jackson laughed as he finished distributing the food. She watched him, clearly comfortable in the kitchen. They needed time to discover what was happening between them, but for now, she was content to let things continue to develop slowly.

  He threw the empty fast-food bag in the trash under the kitchen sink, then turned back to her. “I got the feeling the last time I was here that you’re not as fond of all the pets as Tess is.”

  “It’s only the rodent variety I try to avoid. I was bitten by a rat as a child and haven’t been able to get over those evil sharp front teeth.”

  “Evil?”

  “Yes, evil. But I love my daughter and share her love for animals—for the most part.”

  He took a step toward her, his gaze locked on to hers. “You’re a great mother, you know.”

  “I try.” She felt her cheeks blush as she sat down at the table, breathing in the scent of sausage, pancakes, biscuits, hash browns—along with a hint of enchantment. She could get used to being spoiled.

  Her stomach growled. When was the last time she’d had a bite of greasy sausage? “I normally eat muesli and yogurt for breakfast, so you certainly win brownie points for this.”

  “Good, because you need to keep up your strength, and I don’t think muesli is going to cut it today. We’ve got a killer and a thief to catch.”

  “And a mouse.”

  She tried not to watch him or notice the fact that he was watching her. Today he was dressed more casually, in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt, rumpled from his stint in the car. There was a hint of a shadow across his jawline and his eyes seemed a richer shade of chocolate.

  At the table, he offered a prayer of thanks for the food before they started eating. It almost scared her how natural it felt to be with him. How comfortable she felt to state her feelings, questions, or even express doubts about her life.

  He took a bite of his eggs. “I think you need to reconsider going back to bed. You look tired.”

  “Before the break-in, I didn’t sleep well thanks to a few restless dreams after I finally fell asleep.”

  “Nightmares?”

  “Yeah.” She had to stop letting this guy get to her.

  Mitch entered the dining room and sat down in front of his plate. “Door is hung, and while it might have a few extra dings and scrapes, I’d say it’s as good as new.”

  “I appreciate it, Mitch.” Avery bit into the sausage biscuit. She really did appreciate all he’d done, but that didn’t erase the fact that it was still another reminder of how, if someone wanted to get into her house, they could.

  “That’s my phone again.” Avery grabbed the phone from her back pocket. Number unknown.

  “Hello?”

  Avery worked to make out the garbled sounds on the other side of the line. Voices whispered in the background. She couldn’t make out any of the words.

  The connection went dead.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I don’t know. There was a bunch of noise in the background before the call got cut off.”

  Mitch took his empty plate to the sink, then turned around and leaned against the counter. “I don’t like this, Avery. If it was meant to be another threat—”

  “I didn’t hear anything threatening.” She wanted to brush off their fears—along with her own. “It was probably just a wrong number.”

  Mitch shook his head. “I don’t buy that.”

  “Me either,” Jackson added.

  She tried calling the number. No answer.

  “You need to get a trace on the caller.”

  “I’m calling Tory now.” Avery dialed the office next and waited until Tory picked up. “Tory, I need you to contact the network operations center and trace a number that just came through on my cell phone. I need a name and address.”

  Ten minutes later, Tory called back with the information. “The phone is registered to a Mrs. Jade Chu. You might have talked to her while canvassing the neighborhood, because she lives about two blocks from the Sourns.”

  Avery pulled out her notes from the canvassing. “I remember that house. Mitch and I spoke to a young Vietnamese woman and a little boy. We’re going to need a translator.”

  “I’m ready to go.”

  “I’ll pick you up at the station in fifteen minutes.”

  Avery ignored the concerned looks as she grabbed her bag off the back of the kitchen chair, but this time her bodyguards were going to have to go along with her plan. Apparently she’d been right about thinking Malaya knew something. And it was time to find out exactly what it was.

  26

  Mason felt the muscles in his chest groan as he turned into the parking lot on the west side of the warehouse, wishing—not for the first time—that his beat-up pickup truck had power steering. At thirty-three, he was already feeling too old for the backbreaking job of manually lifting boxes onto pallets, then stacking them onto trailers that would be shipped across the country. All this while trying to keep up with a half-dozen college-aged kids for a measly ten bucks an hour. But he couldn’t complain too much. If everything went as planned, he was about to be promoted.

  Inside the open warehouse, he found Owen Jefferson already at work at his desk in the back corner, sweat dripping down his bald head and onto the sides
of his neck. The overhead fans did little to alleviate the heavy heat in the warehouse. Mason had never seen Owen lift more than a pile of papers, but the man clearly worked out somewhere.

  Mason had received extensive profiles on Owen the first day of work. Ex-military, with combat experience. Two ex-wives and hefty alimony payments. After a few years working security, he now managed a distribution center of imported furniture and knickknacks from Asia.

  Whatever Mason might think about the man’s personal life, Owen was his way in. And with word from his informant that the timeline had suddenly been pushed up, it was going to take every trick Mason knew to get there. Which was why he’d left Gavin lying on the floor of his apartment in a pile of vomit.

  Owen punched off his cell phone and dropped it onto his desk. He frowned at Mason. “You’re early.”

  “You never know how traffic is going to be.” Mason poured himself a drink from the water cooler and took a sip, wondering what Owen knew. “Something wrong?”

  “Just got a call from Gavin’s girlfriend.”

  “Gavin?” Mason furrowed his brow and pretended to try to place the man.

  “Short, stocky, curly red hair. He was supposed to be working today’s second shift.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve spoken to him a time or two. Something wrong with him?”

  “He’s not coming in today.”

  Mason took another sip of the cold water. “He sick or something?”

  “Something. Girlfriend found the door open to his apartment, went in to investigate, and found him unconscious.”

  Mason tossed the empty cup into the trash. He must have just missed her. “Seriously?”

  “Crazy, isn’t it? Ambulance took him to the hospital about an hour or so ago. She said something about food poisoning.”

  That familiar wave of guilt swept over him. Some of his aunt’s preaching still got to him every now and then. Love your neighbor as yourself. Turn the other cheek. How did that fit in with all the lies he’d told in the past two years, or the bodily harm he’d inflicted? He was convinced there was a special place in hell reserved for people like him. Unless the good he managed to pull off could make up for everything else.