by Joyce Lamb
"When Alaina took off with my son," Keller went on, "my father-in-law insisted that the situation be handled within the family. He didn't want Alaina to be arrested and charged with kidnapping if she was found. Yes, she's a troubled woman, but she's not a danger to society and he couldn't bear for her to go to jail."
Mitch interpreted that to mean Chancellor was such a prig that he hadn't wanted unsavory publicity, and a felon in the family would have been highly objectionable. "You said she killed one of your detectives. In my eyes, that makes her plenty of a danger. Aren't the feds looking for her for that?"
"Well, to be honest, that case is unsolved. Alaina had assumed another identity when it happened, and because her fingerprints had never been on file before then, she was never connected to that."
Mitch nodded, understanding. "And to avoid connecting her, you didn't fess up to employing the man she killed."
"To protect Alaina, yes."
"To protect Alaina," Mitch repeated, one eyebrow arched.
"To protect the family," Keller conceded. "Look, I'm not proud of any of this. It's a scandal of epic proportions if the media ever get wind of it. I'm taking a huge risk sharing this information with you, Mitch." He paused, sipped more water, as if giving Mitch time to think. After putting the glass down, Keller leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Are you interested in the job?"
Mitch didn't hesitate. He was always up for a challenge, and this one sounded especially enticing. "Sure, I'm interested."
Keller gestured at the folder on the desk. "There's a picture of her in there. It was taken about a year before she took off, so I don't know how much it will help."
As Mitch flipped open the folder, he hoped his boss couldn't read his shock. The girl in the professionally taken photo looked like she couldn't have been more than seventeen, her cheeks rosy, her eyes bright with laughter. She was striking, to be sure, with almost-black hair that fell past her shoulders and eerie gray-green eyes that conveyed a mischievous glint.
"She looks young," Keller said.
Mitch glanced up to find the man watching him carefully, as if gauging his response.
Keller smirked. "Don't let her looks fool you. She's not innocent. If you find her, you'll understand how, as a naïve young man, I could be so weak." He waved a well-manicured hand before Mitch could respond. "I'm not making excuses, of course. I admit it takes two to screw up as royally as Alaina and I did. But the truth is, I want to put all that behind us and move on. I want to give my son the life he deserves, build a relationship with him and be his role model. It's very important to me to have an heir." He paused for a moment, studying Mitch. "I'm a thorough man," he went on. "I don't hire people without checking them out. I know we have something in common."
"My son wasn't kidnapped, Mr. Keller."
"No, but I'm sure you understand my desire to connect with my child, the helplessness I feel because he's been kept from me. That feeling has been heightened since my father-in-law passed away."
"I understand."
Keller nodded. "This is why I want you working for me, Mitch. You get it. And you're damn good at what you do. I respect that."
Mitch knew when he was being stroked and figured that meant Keller had said all he planned to. Rising, he extended his hand. "I'll do what I can to find your heir, Mr. Keller. It might take some time, though."
But it didn't take nearly as much time as Mitch had expected.
Alaina Chancellor had done a fine job of disappearing. An amateur detective might have struggled tracking her down. But she hadn't done anything spectacularly clever. At least, not anything that a professional couldn't have figured out.
Which was why, while observing mother and son from a distance, Mitch began to carefully study the reports from the other detectives. They were pedestrian, some of them not even making sense. It quickly became obvious that none of the investigators had tried very hard to locate Alaina and Jonah. In fact, they'd barely made any effort at all. He couldn't even tell which reports came from the p.i. she'd supposedly killed -- he'd hoped for some clues in that one, seeing as how that man had been the only one to actually find her. But all the reports were the same. Dead ends everywhere.
He could understand how one or two might have milked the job. But four? It made no sense. Especially considering the level of Layton Keller's influence. He no doubt would have handsomely rewarded the detective who delivered his son to him. The man would have been a hero, a media sensation.
Increasingly uneasy, Mitch kept the news to himself that he'd found the mother and son, preferring to think the situation through before making a move. In the meantime, he noted that the boy appeared well-adjusted and happy, lacking the usual sullenness of a teenager. The interaction between mother and son was easy, comfortable, even playful. It was clear that they respected each other, loved each other. The thought of shattering the teen's life nagged at Mitch.
As did Alaina's frantic dash just before the accident. What had she been running from? Or perhaps to? Her adamance that her friend go get Jonah right away had been desperate. Mitch understood a mother being protective -- he felt protective of the kid himself -- but there was another level to it, a fear that seemed almost irrational. And Mitch wasn't about to let anything happen to Jonah on his watch.
It was dark, and rain was still falling by the time he steered his car onto the street where Grant Maxwell lived with his teenage son, Lucas, who seemed to be Jonah's closest friend. Mitch had followed Alaina to the Maxwells' home several times in the past weeks as she had picked up her son or dropped him off. The past two Wednesdays, she had picked him up after her early shift at work. Mitch figured it was a good bet that she had intended for this Wednesday to be no different than the two before it.
Seeing flashing red lights, Mitch parked a block up and took in the two squad cars parked in front of the Maxwells' home. An ambulance, lights blazing, siren screaming, sped by him, away from the house.
Mitch began to sweat.
Chapter 4
Alaina sat on the gurney in a hospital-issue gown, her bare legs dangling, one hand tightly gripping the edge of the mattress, the other cradled gingerly in her lap.
About ten minutes ago, the ER staff had determined her injuries were not life-threatening and moved her to a tiny room by herself to await her turn behind the more critical patients.
Alaina, much of her body feeling bruised, was beginning to regret her refusal of the pain medication. But she would have regretted a fuzzy head more. All in all, she didn't feel as bad as she would have expected after being hit by a car. The vehicle had been stopping, so it hadn't struck her that hard. The worst injury, as far as she could tell, was the dislocated shoulder, which, the doctor had told her, would probably be susceptible to dislocation in the future if she wasn't careful, at least until it had healed. Her ribs had taken some abuse, as well, but none felt broken.
She knew she was lucky. Very lucky. And with Rachel picking up Jonah --
"Hey." Rachel peered around the edge of the door. "You decent?"
Alaina's spirits soared, all pain forgotten. She hadn't expected her friend to return so quickly with Jonah. "Yes, come in." Now, all she had to do was get out of here, and they could get home, collect some belongings and the documentation for the identities she'd been building for the past several years for just such an occasion, and hit the road. Where would they go next?
Stepping into the room, Rachel dropped her brown leather bag on the floor near a sterile-looking metal stool on wheels, then looked Alaina over. "Nice jams."
Alaina glanced at the door, which Rachel had left open a crack. Was he behind it, feeling shy or worried about how she might look? "Jonah?"
"Oh," Rachel said, waving a dismissive hand. "I wanted to make sure you're okay before I go get him."
For a moment, Alaina couldn't breathe. Her heart felt like a balloon that someone had thoughtlessly pricked with a pin. "He's not with you?"
"I didn't want him to
be scared." Bending, Rachel slipped her cellphone out of her purse on the floor. "What's his cellphone number? We'll call him right now."
The room began to whirl, and Alaina fought the dizziness. "I asked you to pick him up."
"Yeah, and then you were unconscious," Rachel said. "What was I supposed to tell the poor kid? That you'd been hit by a car and I didn't know what kind of shape you were in? He would have freaked. And, frankly, I wasn't in any shape to drive after seeing you lying there like that ..." Her voice cracked, and she trailed off. "I guess I needed a little time to freak myself." She grasped Alaina's hand, squeezed. "You scared --"
Rachel broke off as a nurse opened the door. "Alex Myers?"
Alaina looked at the woman, her brain unable to process anything other than how to get to Jonah as quickly as possible, then out of town before the FBI showed up and arrested her. The feds could be on their way right this second.
"Alex?"
She forced herself to focus on Rachel, who was eyeing her with concern. "I'm sorry?" Alaina asked.
Rachel gestured at the nurse. "She said there are two FBI agents asking to see you. Do you feel up to talking to them?"
"No," Alaina said quickly. "I, uh, ... no."
Rachel's brow creased. "Are you all right?"
Alaina shook her head. Think. Think. "In a few minutes," she told the nurse. "Tell them I'll see them in a few minutes."
Once the nurse was gone, Rachel said, "Those feds are pretty adamant about talking to you. What's the deal?"
Instead of answering -- because she didn't know what to say or where to begin -- Alaina slid off the gurney, grateful that, when she wobbled, Rachel braced her.
"Uh, what are you doing?" her friend asked.
Alaina had no idea. Now that she was standing, however unsteady, she realized she couldn't just walk out. She wore nothing but a hospital gown. Her purse was nowhere to be seen. She had no money, no ID. All she had was Rachel, who was staring at her as if Alaina had just ripped off her human face to reveal an alien one underneath.
She took a shallow breath, bruised ribs preventing anything deeper. "I need to get out of here. Now."
Rachel stepped back, hands raised, cellphone still grasped in one. "Okay, you're officially wigging me out."
"I'm not kidding, Ray. I need to get to Jonah."
"I'm sorry, but you're going to wig him out, too."
"Ray --"
"How about this?" Rachel cut in. "I'll get Jonah. You stay here and get X-rayed."
"No. I need to go."
"Well, I'm not helping you. You just got hit by a car, and you're shaky on your feet."
"I'm not asking your permission."
"Then I'll get a doctor in here to talk some sense into you."
"Yes," Alaina said, seizing on the opportunity to get Rachel out of her way. "Let's consult a doctor."
Rachel hesitated, thrown. "You'll sit tight if a doctor tells you to?"
Alaina nodded vigorously. "Yes."
But Rachel, her eyes suddenly wary, folded her arms and stayed put. "You're just trying to get me out of here so you can take off."
Alaina almost screamed in frustration. "Ray, dammit --"
"Just tell me what the hell's --" The cellphone in her hand rang, cutting her off. She checked the display.
"Who is it?" Alaina asked. It was a long shot, but if Jonah had gotten no answer on her cellphone or work phone, he might have tried Rachel.
"It's work," Rachel said.
Leaning against the gurney, Alaina stared at the floor while her friend turned her back to take the call. That was when she spotted Rachel's purse propped against the casters of the metal stool. The edge of her key ring peaked out of the side pocket.
Keeping an eye on Rachel's turned back, Alaina bent and snagged the keys, careful to clamp them against her palm to prevent them from jangling.
"I'm here with her now," Rachel was saying. "She's fine. I think. ... I don't know how long I'll be. I'll call you later, okay? ... Great, thanks for calling."
Lowering the cellphone, Rachel turned. "People at work are worried about you," she said, her smile strained.
Alaina shrugged, knowing the gesture was far too casual, considering the conversation they'd been having. But she didn't know how else to behave now that she was moments away from betraying her best friend. "I'm fine. Don't I look fine?"
"Actually, you look like hell."
"Hey, I'd like to see you look this good after being hit by a car."
Rachel laughed softly, her eyes searching Alaina's. "You'd tell me if you were in some kind of trouble, wouldn't you?"
Alaina sank down onto the stool. Everything ached. Her body. Her heart. Her soul. She hated her life, hated being afraid, suspicious. And it would never end. Never. She clamped her jaw against the emotion that tightened her throat. "I panicked," she said. "I can't explain it." Glancing up, she tried to look contrite. "You win, okay? I'll stay here while you go get Jonah. I'll probably be ready to go by the time you get back."
Rachel scooped her purse off the floor. "No problem. I'm sorry I didn't go before, like you asked."
"I understand, Ray. I do." Just go, Rachel. Go.
"It'll take me about forty minutes to get to Grant's and back," Rachel said. "Do you want me to call once I've got him?"
Alaina let her shoulders drop, as if in relief. "That'd be excellent. Thanks."
Rachel gave her a quick, gentle hug. "Don't freak out anymore, okay? You were scaring the crap out of me."
"Sorry."
"I'll be back in a jiff."
As soon as Rachel was gone, Alaina ducked out of the room and edged around the nurse's station. She needed clothes, a jacket, ... something to replace the gown, which would draw attention. Luckily, there was so much activity in the ER that no one paid attention to her.
Finding a cabinet that held fresh scrubs for the nurses and doctors, she snagged a pair, along with some of those booties that surgeons wore. Back in the room, she doffed the gown as quickly as her throbbing shoulder and ribs would allow and slipped into the pale green scrubs. Afterward, she rested, bracing her hand on the gurney as her head grew light and took a lazy spin. Hang on. Jonah needs you to hang on.
Feeling relatively disguised and about as steady as she figured she was going to get under the circumstances, she strolled as casually as possible into the ER waiting room. A bank of pay phones occupied a section of wall adjacent to the ER's automatic sliding glass doors. She took up position at one of the phones, where she could watch people come and go without being noticed herself. With a phone pressed to her ear, she waited only about a minute before Rachel hurried into the ER, looking stressed. She didn't even glance in Alaina's direction.
As soon as Rachel was out of sight, Alaina exited through the same doors, Rachel's keys dangling from her fingers. The cold wind struck her body a soft blow -- obviously, the forecasted cold front had arrived. She ducked her head against the steady rain, walking as fast as she could, every step sending jarring pain through her shoulder and side.
She found Rachel's silver Toyota RAV4 without trouble and told herself she had no choice as she climbed in. Her hands shaking as if she had Parkinson's, she turned the key to start the small SUV.
Protecting Jonah from his father took precedence over everything and everyone. She'd made that promise to herself long ago, and she would never break it.
She would die first.
Chapter 5
Mitch stepped out of his car and approached the Maxwells' front door, which stood open, the lights inside casting buttery light on the walls. Darkness had fallen early and quickly, thanks to the relentless rain that still fell. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, Mitch strode onto the porch like he belonged there and peered inside.
Overturned furniture and a large bloodstain on beige carpet told of a violent encounter in the living room. One man was busily collecting evidence while police officers hovered around the perimeter.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Mitch pulled out his investigator license and flashed it at the police officer. "Mitch Kane. I got a tip that someone I'm looking for might be here. What happened?"
"Guy got shot, and his kid was pistol-whipped."
"Jesus. They going to be okay?"
"The father's in bad shape but nothing life threatening. The kid's probably got a concussion."
"Robbery?"
"Don't think so," the cop said. "Fancy TV and stereo equipment haven't been touched."
"Only the father and son were here? Nobody else?"
"Not that we know of."
"Witnesses?"
"Nope."
"And you're sure the kid was the guy's son?" Mitch asked.
"Yeah. He was asking about his dad when he regained consciousness." The officer narrowed his eyes. "What'd you say your name is again?"
Raising his hands, Mitch backed off. "Looks like my tip was wrong. Sorry."
In the driveway, he paused, wondering what the hell was going on. It couldn't be a mere coincidence. Alaina Chancellor makes a frantic run for the train, and now the place where her kid was supposed to be is a crime scene, with Grant Maxwell shot and Lucas knocked around. Had she known that something had happened?
"Get Jonah."
That's what she'd said. Not "check on Jonah" or "help Jonah."
"Get Jonah."
She'd been concerned about him, maybe even frightened for him. But Mitch's gut told him that she hadn't thought her son was in grave danger. That would have been accompanied by a whole other level of desperation.
Flipping open his cellphone, he hit the speed-dial button assigned to his partner. Julia Rafferty sounded rushed when she answered the call.
"It's Mitch."
"Hey, how's it going out in the Windy City?"
"Everything's gone to hell." He gave her the update, then said, "What I need is a more thorough background check on Maxwell. Was what happened here the result of his entanglements or Alaina Chancellor's?"
"I was thorough the first time. He's an upstanding citizen. No rap sheet. No warrants. Not even any outstanding parking tickets. The guy's a catch."
