by Debra Webb
“This is crazy,” Mary Jane fairly shouted. “We just got here. Aren’t you listening? He was dead already.”
Mitchell divided his attention between Shane and Mary Jane. “I received a tip, too,” he said to Shane. “And it included a man matching your description and a gun tossed to the ground at the side of the house.”
“You really think this is going to be that easy?” Shane laughed. “Someone is setting us up. Maybe that someone is you or maybe you’re supposed to take the fall with me. Whatever the case, we’re being played. This is going to get ugly fast. A dead cop and two feuding U.S. marshals. Not good.”
“You’re not a marshal anymore,” Mitchell snarled. “They’re sure as hell not going to take your word over mine.”
“What about mine?” Mary Jane demanded as she took a step in his direction.
Mitchell’s attention whipped toward her and Shane’s chest morphed into a vise, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. “Let’s just stay cool. We both know neither of us did this,” Shane urged. “We can’t let the past distort the present. That won’t do anyone any good.”
If Mitchell was dirty, this situation could deteriorate fast. As much as Shane despised the man, he couldn’t say he’d ever had reason to consider him dirty on that level.
The distant wail of sirens had Mitchell lowering his weapon. “We’ll have some answers now.”
The next few minutes were a blur of activity. What appeared to be half of Chicago PD’s force descended upon the neighborhood. Victoria Colby-Camp, Ian Michaels and Simon Ruhl arrived, as did FBI Agent LeMire and his partner. The only person missing was Rebecca Brooks.
If she was alive, what the hell kind of game was she playing?
“VICTORIA, YOUR PEOPLE CAN GO,” Police Chief Lawrence Wynne announced, nearly two hours after Shane’s arrival on the scene. “As you know, there may be need for additional interviews.”
“Of course,” Victoria allowed. “Thank you, Chief.”
Shane ushered Mary Jane along behind Victoria and the others from the Colby Agency. More than two dozen of Chicago’s finest were combing the area for witnesses and/or evidence.
Marshals Mitchell and Bolton stood near Mitchell’s car. The exchange looked anything but cordial. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to help the feds with their case against Horizon Software. Shane didn’t feel the least bit sorry for his ex-partner. The guy deserved to be taken down a notch or two.
Condescending jerk.
“We didn’t have any luck with the trace on the last call you received from your sister,” Ian informed Mary Jane as they reached the Mustang.
“But the recording is in voice analysis as we speak,” Victoria added. “We’ll soon know if this caller is your sister or someone using previous recordings of her voice to manufacture the necessary dialogue for these calls.”
Mary Jane shrugged. “It’s her voice. I know her voice.” She chewed her lower lip as was her habit when she was confused or worried. “Except when she gave me the house number and street…that part sounded…strange.”
“We’ll know soon,” Ian assured her.
“Research is narrowing down the list of orthodontists in St. Louis,” Victoria noted, bringing them up to speed on that aspect of the investigation. “We should know something soon on that.”
“Meanwhile,” Shane put in, “we’re going back to pay Jose Torres a visit. According to his girlfriend, Jason Mackey’s former lover, Torres knew a hit had been put out on Rebecca, but he didn’t get the call to do the job.”
“No need,” Ian informed him. “Right before we received the call to come here, surveillance discovered the vehicle belonging to Jose Torres in the parking lot of an abandoned gas station. He’d apparently committed suicide.”
Shane glanced in the direction of Mitchell and the other feds. “Looks like everyone involved in the case against Horizon Software is on a very short list.” His gaze settled on Victoria’s. “And it’s getting shorter all the time.”
MARY JANE SAT VERY STILL in the passenger seat of the Mustang as they drove away from the house where Detective Bailen had been murdered.
Had it just been yesterday that he had come to her door to tell her about the remains linked to Rebecca? How could this be happening?
She had never seen a murdered person before. It was very different from watching her mother take her last breath…or finding her father in his bed after dying in his sleep.
Her entire being shuddered.
“Stop the car!”
Shane only hesitated a moment then he wheeled over to the curb. She jerked free of her safety belt and flung the door open. No sooner than her feet hit the grass beyond the cracked sidewalk then her stomach heaved. Her entire body started to shake, and it was all she could do to remain partially vertical.
Since she’d forgone breakfast that morning, there wasn’t much to lose, but lose it she did.
When her stomach had stopped its involuntary spasms, she became aware of Shane standing a couple of steps behind her.
“I found this in the glove box.” He passed her a couple of fast-food napkins and a piece of peppermint candy wrapped in the logo of a popular drive-through.
“Thanks.” She wiped her lips and took a couple of deep breaths before she dared to pop the mint into her mouth. She was thankful for the pleasant flavor to chase away the bitter aftertaste.
Shane waited patiently; didn’t rush her to get back into the car. When she felt steady enough she climbed back into the fancy car and thanked God she hadn’t puked on the floorboard. She doubted Shane’s colleague would have appreciated that.
“Could you handle some ginger ale or a soft drink?” He started the engine, checked his mirrors and eased back onto the street.
“I’d like to go home.” She needed to change clothes. Brush her teeth. And just lie down in her own bed and think. She’d hardly slept at all last night. She kept thinking about the man across the hall and all this insanity. Unfortunately, one had had nothing to do with the other. Her crazy thoughts about Shane had been purely the selfish physical kind.
She shook off the memories and focused her bleary mind on the here and now.
Was he right about the people involved in the case against Horizon Software? Were they being murdered one by one? Was she on that list?
And where was her sister?
Mary Jane closed her eyes and let her head drop back against the headrest. There were no answers. Only questions.
“I’ll take you home for a little while.”
“Then what?” she asked weakly. She sounded like death warmed over. Sick and frail. And all this time she’d thought she was so strong. Ha! She wasn’t strong, she was a coward. The entire time her mother had been ill, Rebecca had insisted that she could recover all the way up to the day she died. That there was hope. Not Mary Jane. As soon as the doctor had said their mother was dying, she had accepted that fate and then went about seeing after her mother until the end. Not once had she believed a miracle could happen.
She wasn’t strong enough to believe in miracles.
Maybe her sister was alive. She certainly was strong enough to take control of her life and try and prevent the inevitable.
Did that make her a bad person? A deserter?
Mary Jane just didn’t know.
“After that,” Shane said in answer to her question, “we’ll see if we can get anywhere near Torres’s girlfriend again.”
“You think she knows more than she’s telling?” She had seemed pretty terrified of ratting on her boyfriend.
“Maybe, maybe not. But with Torres dead, there’s always the chance her story may have changed dramatically.”
Before Mary Jane could ask anything else, Shane’s cell phone rang.
“Allen.”
She waited while he listened to the caller.
“We’re on our way.”
When he’d put the phone away, she asked, “More surprises?”
He looked directly into her eyes for
as long as he dared and still navigate the traffic. “Ann Martin, one of my colleagues, has been watching your apartment.”
She hoped her place hadn’t burned down or exploded. She’d definitely watched too many plot-challenged action movies.
“You received a FedEx package.”
Confusion worried her brow, adding to the ache gathering there. She didn’t remember ordering anything. She supposed it could be some gift from a relative who wanted to show sympathy for the loss of her parents. A card still trickled in now and again.
“The package,” he went on, “is from your sister.”
“Oh, my God.” Mary Jane’s stomach clenched. “Does this mean she’s really alive?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His fingers were clenched tightly around the steering wheel and he kept his focus on the street. The grim set of his jaw gave nothing away. She hadn’t noticed until then that he hadn’t shaved that morning. The stubble that darkened his jaw made him look all the more dangerous. The goatee and longish hair and leather made her think again of a pirate.
Okay, her mind was rambling now. She had to focus.
“Shane?” It was the first time she’d called him by his first name. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. At some point, she’d decided to think of him as Shane.
He braked for the traffic light as it turned red. When he’d come to a complete stop, he turned to look directly at her. “It was overnighted yesterday afternoon from a downtown service center. According to Martin, the package was mailed by a female. The clerk couldn’t remember what she looked like. Dark sunglasses and a scarf that covered her hair.”
Mary Jane gripped the armrest more tightly as if that might steady the way her mind was whirling. If Rebecca was alive and putting her through this hell, Mary Jane was going to be seriously ticked off.
Her sister would have some powerful explaining to do if she really had been alive all this time.
And if she wasn’t…
Then Mary Jane would…be all alone just like she had been since she’d buried their father.
“Did she…” Mary Jane cleared the emotion from her throat. “Did your colleague open the package?”
“Yes.”
She took a breath, let it out. “So are you going to tell me what was in it or do I have to guess?”
“There’s a key.”
“A key?” First there was the condo and the vehicle. What now? “What kind of key?”
“Martin thinks it’s to a safety deposit box. They’re trying to run down the possibilities.”
She didn’t remember ever hearing Rebecca talk about a safety deposit box, and Mary Jane sure didn’t have one.
“Is that all?” Surely there was more than just that.
“There was a note.”
Frustration rifled through her. “Would you just tell me already?”
He still didn’t make eye contact. “We’ll be there soon. We’ll have all the facts then.”
There was something bad he wasn’t telling her.
Her stomach churned violently.
Maybe he was afraid she’d mess up his friend’s car. Or maybe he just didn’t want to deal with her hysteria.
And right now it was rising fast. Really fast.
Chapter Eleven
The key.
Mary Jane sat in the middle of her living room floor and stared at the key in her palm.
Ann Martin, Shane’s colleague from the Colby Agency, had determined that the key definitely came from a bank. But which one wasn’t known yet.
Grasping the key in her right hand, she reached for the card with her left. She reread the single line for the third or fourth time. She couldn’t remember, she’d lost count. Maybe she’d read it a dozen times already.
You know the place.
“Bec, why did you do this?”
Simon Ruhl had gone to the FedEx service center with a picture of Rebecca, and the clerk still couldn’t identify her as the woman who had mailed the package. But she couldn’t say it wasn’t her, either.
Everything was going further and further out of control. The thirty-eight suspected of being used to kill Detective Bailen had been wiped clean of prints. Jose Torres’s girlfriend had vanished. And there hadn’t been any more calls to Mary Jane’s cell. The voice analysis on the one recorded wasn’t complete yet.
They knew nothing, and two people were dead.
Besides Rebecca.
If Rebecca was dead.
Shane settled on the floor next to her, his arms propped on his knees. “We’ll figure it out eventually. Don’t beat yourself up if nothing comes to mind. We all remember things differently. What may have been a particularly vivid memory to your sister may have barely registered for you.”
Mary Jane drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “She must have believed I would remember. She had it right with the Monopoly property card.” Opening her hand, she stared at the key again. “I don’t think she would get this wrong. Not if it’s important, and it must be important.”
“Close your eyes.”
Resting her cheek against her knees, she studied his intent expression. He had the most intense eyes she had ever seen. “That’s not going to help.”
“Maybe not.” The ghost of a smile lingered on his lips. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Fine.” She closed her eyes. “Now what?”
“Think back as far as you can. To your earliest memories with your sister.”
That was easy. She and Bec had been five and seven. Their first trip to Disney World. Their parents had been young and healthy. Life had been good.
Her breath caught at the feel of a warm fingertip pushing the hair back from her face. Heat flared inside her and her lids fluttered open. He was watching her with those dark eyes.
“You were smiling. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile like that. Like you mean it.”
She lifted her head and sighed. “I have a lot of good memories of my family, but I’m not sure this is going to work.”
“If you were kids, the bank would likely have been one your parents used. Probably here in the city.”
Her parents had always used First Federal Bank as far back as she could remember. That was the one they had used until the very end.
“Did you check First Federal already?”
He nodded.
Made sense. She’d already told him that was the one her parents had used.
“You don’t think it was a bank in St. Louis, do you?” If that were the case, she might never figure this out. She’d been thirteen when they’d moved to Chicago. There were a million things about life in St. Louis that she had forgotten.
“No problem.” He pushed to his feet and offered his hand. “Maybe what you need is a visual aid.”
“What?” Even as she asked for clarification, she placed her hand in his.
“If Rebecca expected you to remember it, then the place must have had a visual impact on the two of you. Come on.”
He led the way to her home office, where his associate worked on a laptop she’d brought with her.
“Ann, could we have a copy of that list?” He flashed Mary Jane a smile. “We’re going to take a little road trip.”
Ann passed him the requested list. Blond hair and green eyes, Ann Martin looked to be about twenty-five, but considering her banking background she had to be at least thirty. She was tall and thin like a runway model.
“I’ll let you know if I have any hits here.”
Shane gave her a little salute and then gestured for Mary Jane to precede him. They grabbed their coats on the way through her living room. She’d changed into jeans and a sweater as soon as they’d arrived at her apartment. Washed her face and brushed her teeth twice.
Hopefully, she could get through whatever came next without another distasteful incident.
He opened the Mustang’s passenger door and waited for her to settle inside. Then he rounded the hood and slid behind the wheel.
He passed the list to her.
“Where to first?”
As he cranked the engine she surveyed the names of financial institutions. Might as well start at the top.
“The Mag Mile.”
THE FIRST HALF-DOZEN BANKS didn’t stir the slightest memory. She’d known just driving past that she hadn’t been there before.
By the time they’d hit the double digits, Mary Jane was beginning to think maybe her sister really had selected a bank from their old hometown, St. Louis.
And then a memory clicked.
The First Savings and Trust.
Bold, Grecian architecture. Magnificent. Grand. A palace fit for a princess.
“This is it.” Her heart smashed against her rib cage.
Shane drove past the institution to find a parking spot. When he’d eased the Mustang between two other vehicles, she was out before he’d shut off the engine. Anticipation seared through her veins.
“We came here when I was nine. We were visiting my grandparents,” she told him as he joined her on the sidewalk. “They used this bank.” She surveyed the massive structure. Beautiful. “I told my sister that when I grew up I was going to marry a prince and live in a house just like this.”
“You had good taste for a nine-year-old.”
Mary Jane reached into her coat pocket and retrieved the key. “Let’s see if this is the place.”
They walked up the steps to the main entrance. He kept his hand against her back. She liked that he made that connection, protective and caring. Kept the “alone” feelings at bay.
Inside, their shoes clicked on the marble floor. The towering ceiling made her think of an eloquent museum. The architecture was amazing. Ornate and timeless as if it had been transported from a centuries-old European city.
Shane was right. She’d definitely had good taste as a kid. Too bad the dream hadn’t worked out. She glanced at the man next to her. Or had it?
At one of the customer service desks, Shane smiled for the tellee and she was instantly charmed. “We need to access a safety deposit box.”
“Right this way.”
As the woman led the way to another desk, Mary Jane whispered, “What if this isn’t the right bank?”
