The Wrong Side of Dead

by Jordan Dane

  Her skin prickled with Seth’s betrayal. Trust had never come easy for her, but his deception hurt far more than it should. He’d been a friend, or so she thought. Why had he kept his father’s identity from her? And why seek her out in the first place? She had far too many questions and needed time to think.

  Jess wasn’t sure she could handle anything Seth had to say—not the way she felt now.

  Near the courthouse

  A bar had a way of stopping time, luring patrons with the promise of oblivion and dark anonymity. Danny’s Bar and Grill fit the bill and was conveniently located down the street from the courthouse. Utterly numb, Jess stared into a glass of single malt scotch, watching an ice cube melt and give way to gravity. She’d ordered the drink but only nursed it as she sat at the bar alone, losing track of time. Not even the jukebox music or the sounds of laughter from across the dark room had proved to be a distraction from her misery.

  Her cell phone vibrated again, but she didn’t have to look to see who was calling. Seth Harper had collided with her life. Or perhaps in hindsight, she realized her life had derailed his—the chicken and the egg argument.

  “Something wrong with the drink?” the young bartender asked as he wiped down the counter in front of her. “I can freshen it up for you.”

  She smiled. If only life were that easy. Hate your life, freshen it up.

  “No, I’m good. What do I owe you?” she asked. After he told her, she pulled cash from her pocket and tossed it onto the bar, leaving enough for a tip. “Thanks.”

  She walked out the door into the dying light of day, squinting until she put on her shades. The bar had been a convenient place to take a break from her world and stop for a while, but her mind didn’t get the message. She pulled out her car keys and headed for the lot where she’d parked the van. She had good reason to wallow in pity like a pig in a mud bath, but she had better things to do.

  Harper’s behavior had been highly influenced by his sphincter—no doubt—but the guy still needed her help.

  Cook County Jail

  The bail hearing for Seth Harper had ended and apparently not gone as planned for one man. Private investigator Luís Dante had been retained to report the outcome to an anonymous man he’d never even seen. Everything had been arranged by phone. He’d been hired with cash delivered by a courier service—an impressive retainer—and he only had the number of a disposable phone to contact his new client. He’d checked into the number when he first got the business, not wanting to be played for a chump. But in Luís’s world, money was money. And as long as he wasn’t breaking the law much, he figured his dealings were business opportunities.

  When his client heard about the kid getting bail set, he was pissed. But the bail amount of a million smackers calmed him down until he told the man about the involvement of Anthony Salvatore. Then the shit hit the fan again, as if his client had never seen it coming.

  “I figured you’d want me to stick with the kid. I’m outside county lockup now. He’s probably made bail already. But I gotta tell ya, it’s real ugly here.” He took a last drag off his cigarette and flicked the butt to the ground.

  “What are you talking about?” the man asked.

  “Media vultures are everywhere. They got crews with cameras staked out, waiting for Money Bags to show up for a photo op.”

  A simple maneuver of following the kid turned complicated with news crews at the jailhouse. The added foot traffic made it hard to keep track of one scrawny kid.

  “Just find me that kid, where he’s staying. I need an address, then you’re done.” He cleared his throat. “And like before, I’ll courier a bonus to you if you make it quick, like we talked about.”

  “No problem. I’ll call you when I’ve got something.”

  In the end, Salvatore never showed. And when the media lost interest, and the chaos died down, that left him with a slick black Lincoln Town Car to follow. He tailed the vehicle from the jail toward downtown. The car service hit a freeway entrance ramp, and he maintained his distance and followed the vehicle as planned.

  It wasn’t until the Town Car drove into O’Hare Airport that he wondered what was going on. With the kid out on bail, he had no business leaving town, but maybe he was picking someone up. Finally, the car pulled over to the curb designated for arrivals and parked. Luís did the same, pretending to be waiting to pick up a passenger. But when the driver looked as if he would go inside the terminal, he got out of his car prepared with a lie.

  “I could use your service. Are you free to drive me downtown, man?”

  “No, sir. I’m here to pick up a fare.”

  “Then can I have one of your cards. I’d like to hire your service the next time I’m in town.” While the man fished out his business card from his pocket, Luís smiled and opened the rear door to the Town Car. “You have drinks back here. Hey, real nice.”

  The driver didn’t make a fuss for good reason. The backseat was empty. He barely heard the man reply to his question on alcohol. Back at county jail, he’d been duped. Seth Harper must have gotten out another way.

  When the driver gave him a card, he forced a nod, and said, “Thanks, man. Appreciate it. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  Lighting up another cigarette, he wondered what he would say to his client about his screwup until he realized the man had promised a bonus if he got an address. He wouldn’t have to admit that the kid gave him the slip. And he knew where to pick up his trail. With a little research, he’d have a way to cross Seth Harper’s path again.

  And this time, he wouldn’t underestimate the kid.

  Off Stevenson Expressway

  I–55 at dusk

  Jess had a healthy respect for the power of money even though her experience hadn’t been firsthand.

  She knew by the calls to her cell phone that Harper had made bail, helped by his wealthy friend and benefactor, Anthony Salvatore. Since his release, Seth had left several messages. She’d let them all roll into voice mail, afraid her emotions would flip the switch on her mouth and set it to autopilot. She wasn’t mentally prepared to see him. Wiping the slate clean on their friendship wouldn’t be enough. She knew they’d have to rebuild and redefine their connection or his betrayal would never be far from the surface.

  Yet despite being royally pissed at him for lying to her and keeping her at arm’s length, she grew antsy sitting around feeling sorry for herself. Moping wasn’t in her nature. And she couldn’t get into the distraction of a new bail-jumping case, not when things with Seth were dangling. She wasn’t wired that way either.

  And she had the home address and work location for Mandy’s so-called boyfriend, Jason Burke, burning a hole in her pocket. The guy worked an hourly job as a subcontractor doing construction and repair jobs. But, given the fact his assignments varied, he could be anywhere. And this time of day, she figured her best shot was finding him at home.

  It might be quitting time for Burke, but for her the day was just kicking into high gear.

  Jess drove west on I–55, the Adlai E. Stevenson Expressway, not far from her apartment by Chicago standards. Burke lived off 79th Street and Roberts Road under the shadow of I–294, the Tri-State Tollway. His noisy piece of the urban jungle was a redbrick building faded by the sun and surrounded by a cracked, uneven sidewalk with a weed-choked patch of grass in front.

  There was only one good thing about his place. It made her dump look upscale.

  She parked the blue van around the corner on a side street and walked on the buckling sidewalk to the front entrance of the building. But when she got to a breezeway lined with mailboxes that led into an interior courtyard, she stopped cold. In the shadows, a woman wearing jeans and a stylish gray jacket leaned a shoulder against a brick wall with arms crossed, shaking her head with a half smirk.

  “Do you consider meeting like this a good thing…or bad?” the blonde asked.

  Jess stared into the face of Alexa Marlowe, a mysterious woman she never thought she’d see again. Not in
this lifetime. To cross paths with a woman like her, once had been quite enough. Although Alexa had saved her life months earlier, she guarded her secrets and generally traveled with bad news on her heels—reminding Jess of a vulture. Sooner or later, picking bones clean would be the order of the day. And the woman had a habit of turning up with disaster not far behind.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Alexa raised an eyebrow. “Bad, it is.”

  Jess shrugged. “Chatting over old times won’t get us very far. And a trip down memory lane would only give me nightmares. Why are you here?”

  She prided herself on being able to roll with the hefty punches that life doled out, but Alexa’s appearance had really taken her by surprise.

  “I heard about your friend Seth Harper and I…” the woman hesitated. “I came to help.”

  Jess narrowed her eyes, content to let the silence build between them. If she’d been the one in trouble, she might have refused the woman’s help, preferring to go it alone. But this was about Harper.

  “You flew here—from wherever—to help Harper? Gee, I didn’t know you two were so close.” She matched Alexa’s stance with arms crossed. “You don’t strike me as the charitable type. At least, not without something in it for you. What’s your agenda?”

  “I saved your life. Don’t I get the benefit of a doubt?” Alexa walked toward her.

  Jess couldn’t see any ulterior motive for Alexa wanting to help Seth, but she also found it hard to trust the woman blindly. And just because she couldn’t connect the dots, that didn’t mean the connection wasn’t there.

  “Saving my life earns you a Hallmark card. Send me your address.” She cocked her head, deciding to shift gears. “Are you tailing me, or did you find this address on your own?”

  With old habits hard to break, Jess was careful not to mention Burke’s name, in case Alexa was fishing for information she didn’t already have. Jess knew she was being paranoid, but by not answering her questions, Alexa was playing it cagey, too.

  “Look, I can see why you’d be leery of my interest, but this isn’t about you and me. It’s about your friend.” Alexa laid it on thick, filling her voice with compassion.

  She knew Jessie would be a tough sell, but she needed to break down the bounty hunter’s barriers if she was going to recruit her for Garrett. Sure, she had an agenda, but what Jessie didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her…for now.

  “And in the interest of full disclosure, the guy who lives here is named Jason Burke. He’s the boyfriend to the murder victim. My employer would like to help your friend Harper, so I’m on loan.”

  “And what business would that be? I remember you saying something before about working for an alliance. I figured a group of rich vigilantes,” Jessie speculated. “Who’s your employer?”

  “I can’t exactly say…just yet.”

  “So much for full disclosure.”

  The bounty hunter tried to walk by her, but she reached out a hand. Knowing what she did of the woman, she suspected the straight-up truth would be the only way to go, but she’d have to tread a thin line to give what she could.

  “My boss is Garrett Wheeler. He’d like to meet you, but in the meantime, he’s authorized me to look into Seth’s case.”

  “For what reason? He doesn’t know Seth. And why does he want to meet me?”

  Alexa knew Jessie wouldn’t give an inch without more of the truth, the sanitized version of it.

  “Truth is, he figures that if he can help Seth, you might be grateful enough to at least listen to what he has to say. He’s interested in hiring you, to work with…me. With us.”

  Jessie chuckled under her breath and turned to face her. The evening shadows closed in, fringed by the dim glow of streetlights in front of Burke’s apartment building.

  “I’m not sure I even like you. What makes you think we can work together?” The bounty hunter didn’t pull her punches. Yet despite their differences, Alexa admired Jessie and her head-on approach to trouble. Garrett had seen potential in recruiting the bounty hunter, and so did she.

  “Because we want the same thing.” She locked her gaze on Jessie. “You’ve been going it alone, picking your battles as a one-woman wrecking crew. But what if we could offer you the resources and the leads to make a real difference? Would that interest you?”

  Alexa had to smile. She’d never seen the bounty hunter speechless. The woman had truly heard what she had to say and thought about it before opening her mouth. It was a good start.

  “Look, all you have to do is listen to what Garrett has to say, then make up your mind. I can arrange a meeting when you’re ready. And whatever you decide goes. But for now, let’s talk to the boyfriend together. You don’t know much about Burke, and having backup can’t hurt. I’d like to help. And with the resources Garrett has, you won’t regret letting us in on Harper’s case. What do you say?”

  After a long, strained moment, the bounty hunter said, “I’m not committing to anything, no matter how much you help Harper. This is my case. I call the shots. But for Harper’s sake, let’s get moving. We’re burning moonlight.”

  Jessie hadn’t turned her down cold. Alexa took this as a good sign. Shoulder to shoulder, they headed for Burke’s place, neither of them in the mood to tolerate a man who used his fists on a woman to settle an argument.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Who says opportunity don’t come knockin’?”

  Jason Burke sucked in his gut and threw his chest out when he saw two women at his door—like that was all he needed to improve his looks. Dressed in an old pair of gray sweats and green flip-flops, the guy had a slick, bald head buffed to a high sheen and his grin showed stained teeth. He had tattoos on his arms and chest. A regular piece of work.

  With enough piercings to set off a metal detector, he looked like a beefy bag of testosterone with pull tabs. Rings and studs adorned his nose, an eyebrow, and both ears. And through his wife-beater tee, Jess caught the faint impression of nipple rings. No way he did those sober. She shuddered.

  “Yeah, and I have to admit. I feel like I’ve been slapped upside the head with the lucky stick myself. We saw your name and apartment number on your mailbox. You’re Jason Burke, right?” When he nodded, it took everything Jess had to force a smile. She’d never been good at flirting, but her companion had no trouble slipping into character.

  “Hi, my name is Hilary and this is Chelsea,” Alexa jumped in, shaking hands with Burke.

  Jess shot her a glance and carried on.

  “We were interested in renting in the building and wanted to talk to someone who lived here. Can we come in?”

  “Uh, sure.” With a goofy grin, Burke stepped back to let them in, acting as if he’d scored a major prize. “Come in. Sit. Can I get you two a beer?”

  “Not right now. Maybe later,” she said.

  Burke liked the sound of “later.” And by the look on his face, he was ready to party. He rushed to his ratty brown sofa, picked up a stash of old newspapers, and shoved aside an overloaded ashtray on a smudged glass coffee table littered with dirty dishes and empty beer bottles. Jess was thankful the man smoked. The smell of old cigarettes covered up something worse.

  “What did you say your names were?” he asked, hauling dishes and bottles to the kitchen as they sat.

  “I’m Ashley.” Jess pointed to Alexa. “And she’s Mary Kate.”

  “Hey there.” Alexa grinned and waved a hand, looking…blond. “Love what you’ve done to the place. Very…lived in.” Before he replied, she asked, “You got any music? Let’s crank some tunes. Do you think your neighbors would mind?”

  “Hell, I don’t care. I always play my music loud.” He dumped what he had in his hands. Dishes clattered into the sink as he raced to his stereo system. “You want music, sweet cheeks? It’s comin’ right up.”

  As Burke moved, Jess noticed his body art. He had the tattoo of a coiled snake on one bicep and a tribal band of thorns on the other. The bartender at Dirty Mo
nty’s had told her that the mystery guy who dragged Harper from the bar had a tattoo on his arm. Although he hadn’t gotten a good look at it, he described it as black and curved, maybe a letter or snake.

  From a distance both Burke’s tattoos, the tribal band and the snake, could pass for black and curved—at least enough to get her interest. But if Harper’s case went to trial, she’d need more than just the bartender’s vague recollection of a tattoo to keep Seth out of the gray-bar hotel for the rest of his life. Busting Burke’s I-PASS alibi would make a solid case for reasonable doubt, especially if that choice tidbit was coupled with Harper’s bloodwork testing positive for the date-rape drug. CPD and the DA’s Office would have to investigate Burke as a suspect.

  For the first time since she’d learned about Seth’s trouble, Jess was hopeful.

  “So how long have you lived here?”

  Over a beer, they talked loud enough to be heard above the blaring music, a strange mix of metal and rap. And Burke interrupted the conversation to jerk his head and bite his lower lip in time with the beat.

  His idea of sexy. Her idea of a self-inflicted wound.

  There were times she fought to keep from laughing, but she didn’t dare look at Alexa. And if the jerk launched into his version of air guitar, she’d cut to the chase and pull her Colt Python—a clear-cut case of self-defense.

  “We noticed these apartments are close to the bus line. It’s one of the reasons we were lookin’ here.” She wove her lie. “Sharing a car hasn’t been too bad since we moved to town. Neither of us has a job yet, but when that changes, it’s gonna be tough.”

  “I might be able to help you with that…if you moved here, that is.” He winked. “What kind of work do you two do?”

  Burke was circling the bait. She needed a hook, but didn’t want to appear too eager.

  “Thelma here is a real good dancer.” Jess smiled at Alexa. “She does this routine with spinning rhinestone pasties that always gets good tips.”