by Ravenna Tate
The urge to shout with relief bubbled up as she took the card. “I will. Promise.”
****
After watching the interaction between Carolyn and Perry for a moment, Jagger took out his cell phone and called Tim Hawkins, hoping the attorney would answer. He did. Jagger briefly described what was going on. Tim told him not to say another word, and that he was on his way to the station.
As soon as Carolyn left, Jagger watched Perry pick up the papers, including the photo, and walk into an office across the squad room, closing the door behind him. Jagger sat down and put his feet up on the table to wait for Tim.
It took close to half an hour before Perry returned to the office where Jagger waited. “My boss thinks we have enough to charge you.”
Jagger said nothing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Not until my attorney gets here.”
Perry grinned like Jagger had just told him a joke. “What?”
“I said my attorney is on his way. He advised me not to speak to you further.”
“That only makes you look guilty.”
“No, it means I know the tricks you use. By the way, did you know the FBI followed me here?” Jagger couldn’t help smiling at the look of disgust on Perry’s face. Nothing pissed off a local cop more than having the Feds shoved down their throat.
“You said you had information on the robbery. That’s what you came here to tell me. Why do you need a lawyer for that?”
After taking his feet off the table, Jagger leaned forward. “And instead of taking my offer of help, you accused me of committing the crime. We’re done talking about that.”
“We have a lot of people coming forward with information on this.”
“Two. Two people. And the one you let walk out of here lied to you.”
“Why would she do that? Her uncle didn’t do this. He’s dead.”
“Maybe she did it? Maybe the man in the picture is her accomplice, and she came in here to tell you a bullshit story so you wouldn’t get suspicious about her? You said she has a record.”
“For a guy who called his attorney, you’re suddenly very eager to talk.”
“Doesn’t matter what I say now.” Jagger shrugged. “You can’t use it.” Jagger recognized Tim’s voice in the squad room and stood. “He’s here. See you around, Detective. You should have taken my information.”
After ascertaining that Jagger was not under arrest, Tim escorted him out of the police station. “Don’t do anything that stupid again.”
“Nate Hoffmayer called me this morning, from another country.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? What did he want?”
“I don’t know. I swore at him and told him not to call me again. There’s a white van parked down the street. Been there two days. They followed me almost all the way here.”
“Probably FBI. Would you really have told the cops about Nate?”
“Yeah. And I’d have told them I have an alibi.” Jagger told Tim about the building’s security cameras and the only place he’d gone two nights ago. “My movements will be on the tapes.”
“I’ll get copies of them from your building’s management company.” Tim pulled out his phone and began pressing buttons. “Don’t go to the station again. And if the FBI picks you up, call my cell right away, day or night. Call if something else happens, too. Got it?”
“Got it. Thanks, Tim.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Tim put the phone into his pocket. “Oh, and stay away from Carolyn Lucchesi.”
The walk home for Jagger was slow on purpose as he watched for signs of the van, but he didn’t see it again. It also wasn’t parked across from his building. Maybe they’d changed vehicles? Maybe he was being paranoid and the FBI wasn’t watching him?
As soon as he got into his apartment, he went online and looked for information on Carolyn Lucchesi. Jagger still had access to a database that someone had given him a long time ago. He used a fake name to log onto it, and hoped doing so now wouldn’t trigger any unwanted visitors. But he had to know.
What Jagger found didn’t surprise him, although it was more than he’d been expecting. Carolyn had a record including class 3 felonies and misdemeanors for shoplifting, stretching back to before she was eighteen.
The fact that her parents had died in a car crash when she was fifteen, and that Marie’s sister, Rosa, had taken her in, might have contributed to this, but Jagger knew that Carolyn’s introduction to stealing had begun long before that. Tony had filled him in on both sides of her family. Neither one was known for staying on the right side of the law.
What was more important to Jagger at that moment was figuring out who had told her that was him in the photo, or why she’d said it was. He’d never met her, at least as far as he could recall. The only connection they had was Tony, and he was dead.
Next, Jagger found the news article from 2013, describing how Tony had died after falling overboard in the Atlantic Ocean, while fishing off the coast of Maine. A storm had come up and his boat was found smashed against the rocks. His body had never been recovered, but he’d been presumed dead.
Presumed dead.
Fuck.
What if he wasn’t dead, after all?
A nasty chill ran down Jagger’s spine. He had photos stored on his computer, including ones of Tony when he’d been alive. He clicked around, looking for one taken from the same angle as the image caught on video at the museum, but he didn’t have any.
Tony had darker hair than he did, and he’d never worn it long enough to tie it back, but that didn’t mean anything. People changed their hair all the time. If someone were trying to make themselves look like another person, or trying to disguise their identity, changing their hair was an easy, basic way to start.
Jagger walked around his office for over an hour, mulling over everything that had happened that day. He kept reaching the same conclusion. He didn’t like it, but he knew there was no other way to figure this out and clear his own name at the same time. Even knowing he had an alibi for the robbery no longer made him feel safe.
The only way to find out the truth was to get Carolyn to confess it. And the only way that would happen was if he spoke with her, face to face. Even that was a long shot, but it was the only option. Jagger didn’t like door number one—sit and wait for the cops or the FBI to come calling, only to have Tim fix it. He didn’t like that option at all because it took the control out of his hands.
That wasn’t him in the picture. He hadn’t done this crime. And Jagger would be damned if he’d let some woman he’d never met, and who might be covering for whoever was in that picture, ruin his life all over again. He’d done more than his share of crimes, but he had also paid for them. He wasn’t going down for this one, and he wasn’t going to let Carolyn Lucchesi get away with lying.
****
Carolyn couldn’t reach her uncle after she left the police station the second time that day. She left him a message, explaining that Jagger had been at the station, and that she could not go back there again. She told her uncle she was certain Jagger now knew who she was, and she was afraid he’d come after her.
Once again, she cursed her foolishness in doing this at all. She was desperate to know whether the man in the photo truly was Jagger, because if he wasn’t, her uncle had either lied or been grossly misinformed. Another possibility nagged at her. The one that strongly suggested he’d set her up.
It wasn’t a pretty conclusion to reach, and Carolyn had trouble imagining why he’d do that, but there were only so many options that could be true if the man in the photo was not Jagger. Either Uncle Tony was mistaken, he’d been given false information, or he had lied to her. There were no other possibilities.
After his release from prison, Uncle Tony hadn’t been the same person Carolyn remembered from her childhood. When he talked about the twelve years he’d spent inside, he always referred
to the other six men with whom he’d pulled that job, especially Jagger. Over the years, he became convinced that it was Jagger’s fault they all had gone to prison. Carolyn had asked him more than once why he believed Jagger had ratted them out, citing the fact that he’d gone to prison, too, and asking her uncle why anyone would voluntarily take a prison sentence.
There had never been any clear answers from him. Each time he talked about the alleged incident, the evidence her uncle cited as proof Jagger had given them up changed a bit. After a while, Carolyn stopped calling him on it. It only depressed her to see him grow so paranoid and confused.
The increasing paranoia was likely fed by the fact that the other five men bought into Uncle Tony’s conclusion about why Jagger had been released after only seven years, and it snowballed from there.
Each of the men had received the same sentence. Ten to fifteen years. Jagger had been kept from the others inside—a fact her uncle said proved his story was correct. That made no sense to Carolyn and she’d told Uncle Tony so, but there was no arguing with her uncle once his mind had been made up. The other six men hadn’t exactly been cell mates, but they had kept in touch as much as possible inside a prison.
Carolyn didn’t know if Jagger had ratted them out or not, or if the story had been concocted by her uncle for some other reason. She didn’t know why Jagger had been housed away from all of them, and she didn’t know why he’d been released before his minimum term, or why the others had all served at least ten years. She also didn’t know why her uncle had served twelve.
But she did know that Uncle Tony was a far different person now than he’d been before being convicted of that robbery. That she could understand from her own experiences, which were nothing like the amount of time he’d done. Prison changed a person. Every bad trait, every fear, every touch of paranoia was amplified until it grew inside a person like a living thing and took control of your life.
It made sense to her because she knew the strain he’d been living under for the past three years. Faking your own death to hide from the entire world, including every friend you’d once had, took its toll as well. She hated to see him so different now, but she did understand, at least a little bit, why he had changed.
Still, she didn’t want to believe Uncle Tony had deliberately lied to her. That was a stretch, even in light of how much he’d changed. There had to be another explanation. As far as she knew, he hadn’t told anyone else about faking his own death. That’s how much he trusted her. She’d always been close to him when she was a child and a teen. Would he really change this much? Could it really have become this bad?
Sitting in her apartment waiting for a return call made her restless, so she decided to take a walk. She headed east, toward the Ohio Street Beach because she suddenly felt like she needed to breathe in the crisp air near Lake Michigan. She needed to be out in the open as much as possible.
Behind her, the sun was beginning to set, and the rays bathed the lake’s surface in gold light, making it glitter like gems. The image of jewelry wasn’t helping. If Carolyn never saw another piece of jewelry again, or even heard about one, that would be fine with her.
The beach was still too crowded. She felt like the people were closing in on her, so she walked into the park until she found a spot that wasn’t overrun with couples or families taking evening walks. She sat on a bench that still gave her a view of the lake through the trees, where a boat caught her attention.
Was it headed all the way across the lake? She’d like to take a trip across Lake Michigan, or anywhere, for that matter. Maybe she’d leave Chicago once her parole was up. Get on a boat, a train, or a plane and go anywhere but here. Someplace where no one knew who she was, what she’d done, or had never heard of her family.
Perhaps she could find a job in a little shop somewhere nice, and maybe she’d even meet a man who stuck around long enough to see past her history and upbringing. Perhaps one day she’d have a home in the suburbs. Or better yet, a place in the country where she could settle into a peaceful routine. Someplace with open spaces and plenty of fresh air to breathe.
Instead of stealing them, she would buy the things she needed, and in time she’d forget what it smelled like in prison, or how it felt to walk into her PO’s office once a month and beg for a job. Any job.
Carolyn was so engrossed in her fantasy life that she didn’t hear someone approaching until the footsteps were directly behind her. She intended to rise off the bench and turn around, but the person was too fast.
A strong arm grabbed her around both shoulders, and a hand held her face from behind in a vise grip.
“Don’t move. Don’t scream. I won’t hurt you. I only want to talk to you.” His voice was soft yet commanding, and she didn’t have to guess who it was.
Hot fear raced through her like lava had been shot into her veins. She tried to turn around, but he held her too tightly. She was so afraid, she was certain she’d pass out.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“I said I won’t. I just want to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to let go and sit next to you.”
Once he released her, Carolyn swallowed hard to try to tamp down the fear. He walked around to sit next to her. “Don’t run away. I’ll only find you again.”
It wasn’t a surprise when Carolyn turned to face him. She had already guessed her assailant was Jagger Tyrell.
Chapter Four
Now that she was closer, Carolyn realized how devastatingly handsome Jagger was. His eyes were incredible. Ice blue, like Diamond’s eyes had been. Jagger’s features were rough, as though he’d had a hard life, but they weren’t unpleasant. Not even close.
“Are you going to run?”
As much as she tried to swallow, it wasn’t possible because her mouth had gone dry. She shook her head. Why was he here, and how had he found her? Had he followed her? This had to be about what she’d told the police.
“We’ve never met before, have we?” He tilted his head, and an odd look came over his features, as though he wasn’t certain whether they’d met, but suddenly thought they might have.
“No.” Her damn voice cracked. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t have to sit here and talk to him. “No, I don’t think we have.”
“Then why did you tell the police that was me in the photo?”
Jumbled thoughts pounded her brain .She let out a slow breath to try to make sense of them. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
An interested look filled those beautiful blue eyes as his gaze roamed over her face, before sliding down to her tank top. It lingered on her boobs, which should have pissed her off. She didn’t even know this man. For reasons she didn’t understand, the fact he was checking her out sent a thrill through her.
From there he glanced over her shorts and her bare legs, finally looking at her feet. She wished she’d worn athletic shoes instead of sandals, in case she decided to make a run for it after all. When he met her gaze again, shivers ran up and down her spine at the lust in his eyes.
On the heels of that thought, she wondered again why the hell she was still here. Her uncle had told her this was one of the men who had robbed the museum two nights ago. If the police were watching and saw her talking to him, she’d be in big trouble.
It was time to get the fuck out of this park. Carolyn stood, but he grabbed her arm. “Sit down. We’re not done talking.”
“Yes, we are.” She shook her arm away.
Looking as though he hadn’t a care in the world, he stood slowly. She marveled at his calmness. If he had taken part in the heist, he must have nerves of steel. Either that or the nagging voice in her head all afternoon had been right. Her uncle had lied to her.
“Carolyn, I don’t want to hurt you, but here’s the deal. Someone told you that is me in the photo, or you came to that conclusion another way. It’s not me. But now the police and probably
the FBI think it is, and that doesn’t leave me in a good place.”
Two fingers shoved her in the left shoulder, and Carolyn took a step back. “And the reason I’m not in that good place is because of you.”
“I’m sorry.” She glanced around.
“No one is here, and there are no cameras.”
“I said I was sorry.” She should run. Her breathing became quick and ragged as fear raced through her once more. Now more than ever she wanted to talk to her uncle. Why the hell hadn’t he called her back yet?
“Sorry doesn’t fix this.” He stepped closer until they were barely an inch apart. “Did someone tell you to go to the police and tell them that was me in the picture?”
There was no reason to bother answering. He saw the truth in her eyes. She was sure of it.
“Who was it? Who told you to do that?”
The common sense she’d been looking for finally returned from its coffee break. “Who the hell do you think you are threatening me?”
He snorted. “Oh, that’s rich. Truly. I’m threatening you. You waltz into a police station and give them false information about a robbery, but I’m the one who has threatened another person.”
A sensation of coldness enveloped her body as it began to shake. She glanced around again, but he was right. No one was here, and it was nearly dark. She didn’t even hear voices in the distance. Why had she come into the park alone at night? She wasn’t usually this careless about her own safety.
Pain shot through both shoulders as Jagger placed a hand on each one and dug in. She winced. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going back to my apartment, and we’re going to stay there until you tell me what I want to know.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind. I’m not going anywhere with you.” He moved his hands from her shoulders to grasp her by the upper arms. She tried to move away, but he was too strong. Carolyn started to yell, but it only took him one second to wrap an arm around her again, and to place his hand over her mouth. She struggled, tears welling up now.
“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, dammit. If you scream again, I’m going to the police and to your PO. I will tell them you filed a false report. If you refuse to come with me, I will do the same thing. Carolyn, you really don’t have another choice here.”
