“Jesus.” Sean ran to it, gripped the knob and turned. It wasn’t locked. He stepped into the kitchen, and his shoes crunched on the broken glass on the floor. He listened and heard nothing, then damn near jumped out of his shoes when the phone started ringing again.
“Julie?”
He called her name but didn’t really expect an answer. Then he yanked up the telephone just to shut it the hell up. It was cordless, so he continued walking, moving into the living room as he said hello. Things were off-kilter. The cushions not quite right on the sofa. The plants in the wrong positions on the stands.
“SafeGuard Home Security, sir. I’m calling for Julie or Dawn Jones.”
“They’re not here. And I don’t have time to talk.”
“We’ve notified the police—”
“Good idea.” He hit the cutoff, dropped the phone onto a table and continued through the house. “Be all right,” he whispered.
He went from room to room, walking slowly, every sense on high alert for any sound, while his eyes scanned the place. Every time he entered another room, he held his breath, dreading that he might see Julie or, God forbid, Dawn, lying on the floor, injured or worse. Every time he stepped into another room and didn’t see that, he felt a little more relieved.
Finding no one, and no real clues as to what had happened here, he ventured upstairs. Dawn’s bedroom had that same slightly off feeling that the rest of the house had. He’d never seen it before, so he couldn’t say for sure that things had been moved around, but he felt it. That sense of invasion, of contamination. The mattress wasn’t perfectly straight on the bed, and the bedspread was rumpled, as if someone had lifted it up to look underneath, then dropped it back into place again, too rushed to be careful. The book she’d been reading—the autographed copy of Nathan Z’s book—lay open on the bed. The computer was on. And open to Dawn’s e-mail program.
Frowning, he moved closer, reached for the mouse and clicked on the Sent Mail button. Only an empty screen came up. If Dawn had sent anyone an e-mail before vanishing from the face of the earth this morning, it had been deleted. The question was, had it been deleted before or after the intruder had seen it?
Sean backed out of Dawn’s bedroom and moved down the hall to check the bathroom, before continuing on to the next bedroom. Julie’s. But he only got as far as the slightly open door before memories of the night before came rushing in, trying to distract him from the matter at hand. God, he could still feel her body moving against his, could still smell her hair, hear those soft sounds she made, taste her mouth.
“Where the hell are you, Jones?” he whispered.
He pushed the door open, and the sight of the place chased the memories away like a fist to the stomach would have done. They hadn’t been as neat in here, whoever they were. The blankets and sheets lay balled up on the floor; the mattress had been stripped bare. Dresser drawers hung wide-open, some completely removed from the dresser, and their former contents formed mountains of soft fabrics on the floor. The closet door was open, and the clothes inside had been knocked from their rack, hangers still in them. “Where the hell are you?”
“Put your hands on top of your head and turn around. Do it now.”
The voice was strong and female and it meant business. Sean thought there were not too many people who would refuse to comply, and he wasn’t one of those few. His back itched with the knowledge that there was a gun pointed at it. He lifted his hands to the top of his head, then turned to face the woman, as ordered. “Hello, Jax.”
She lifted her eyebrows, lowered her gun. “I figured that was you when I saw your car out front.”
“Then why did you point your gun at me?”
“Just making sure. What are you doing here, MacKenzie?”
“Not breaking and entering,” he told her. “Somebody beat me to it.”
“Yeah? Then you’re the one who answered the phone and talked to the security people?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, seemed to relax a little. “So what’s the deal?”
“I came looking for Jones, she wasn’t here, I let myself in.” He waved a hand at the mess. “It was like this when I arrived.”
“Have you touched anything?”
“Doorknobs on the front and back doors, the telephone downstairs.”
“Why were you looking for Jones?”
He shrugged, averting his eyes, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here so he could search for her. He didn’t have time to play twenty-questions with Jax.
“She didn’t come to work this morning?”
He knew Jax could confirm it with a simple phone call, and he knew she would. “No. She didn’t come in.”
“Did she let anyone know she would be taking the day off?”
He shrugged. “I’m her partner, not her boss. She doesn’t answer to me.”
“But she didn’t let you know.”
“No.”
“And you couldn’t reach her by phone,” she said.
“No.”
“What about Dawn? Did she show up for school today?”
He glanced at Jax with a puzzled frown. “What makes you think I would know?”
She pursed her lips, scowling at him. “I know goddamn well you know.” Turning her head, she shouted toward the stairs, “Have someone call Cazenovia High School and see if Dawn Jones showed up for classes this morning, pronto.”
“You got it.”
She turned and faced Sean again. “She’s skipped, hasn’t she? She knew I was getting close to arresting her, so she skipped town.”
“I hope to God she’s skipped on you. Because if she hasn’t—” He couldn’t even finish the thought, much less speak it. He looked around the room, lifted his hands. “Are you not seeing this mess? You think Jones did this herself, just to throw you off? Is it not clear to you yet that someone is after the woman?”
“If someone is, he’d better watch himself. The last guy who messed with her got his throat cut.”
“Oh, come on, you know as well as I do that Jones had nothing to do with that.”
“He was blackmailing her, MacKenzie. We have the bank records. She’s paid him a small fortune over the past six months. What I don’t know is what he had on her.”
He lifted his brows, played his hunch. “Rumor has it that blackmail was a goddamn vocation with this guy. You telling me she’s the only one?”
Jax didn’t answer.
“Someone’s setting her up, Jax. It ought to be obvious to a cop as good as you are.”
“Oh, right, flattery’s gonna work.”
He rolled his eyes. “Hell, you got here fast. I’ll give you that much.”
“I was on my way here before we got the call from the security company,” she admitted.
“What for?”
“DNA.” He must have looked surprised, because she looked smug. “Got a judge to issue an order this morning, in case Jones doesn’t want to cooperate. We managed to get a sample off that makeup container we found at the crime scene, and all I need now is a known sample for comparison.”
He shrugged, trying her smug look on for size. “Guess you can’t get a sample if Jones isn’t here to give it.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. I’m pretty sure I can find a sample around here somewhere.”
He pursed his lips, angry and wondering why. “Jones is no killer, Lieutenant. She’s in trouble, and if you don’t start taking that seriously, she’s liable to wind up as your next victim. You’ll have to live with that. And it won’t be easy, trust me. Especially if her kid ends up getting caught in the cross fire. Believe me, I know.”
He thought his final sentence got to her, but he couldn’t be sure. She flinched just a little, aimed her penetrating gaze at something besides him.
“I have to go,” Sean said. “Do me a favor and let me know if you hear from Jones?”
“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you,” Jax said. “Not that I expect you to com
ply.”
“Have a little faith.”
* * *
“Morning, Mr. MacKenzie,” a voice called as Sean hurried out the front door, toward his car.
He turned and spotted an old fellow walking toward him, apparently from the house next door, and he frowned. “Have we met?”
“Nah, but Dawnie’s told me all about you.” The older man smiled, turning his face into a roadmap. “Recognized you by your car.”
“You must be Rodney White,” Sean said, taking the hand the old fellow extended. “Dawn has told me a lot about you, too.”
The man’s grip was firm and cool. “You’re worried about them, I take it?” He nodded toward the police cars on the side of the road. “They must be, too.”
Sean nodded. “Do you know where they might have gone?” Please, he thought, tell me they’ve gone somewhere.
He shrugged. “Julie wouldn’t say. Just that it was a vacation weekend, and that she didn’t know when she’d be back.”
Sean’s entire body eased in a flood of relief. “Then you saw her before she left? She definitely went somewhere of her own free will?”
“Yep. About six this morning. She piled a couple of suitcases into the car, then left it running while she came over here. Told me you’d be coming around. Asked me to give you something.”
Sean’s heart damn near stopped as the old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope. When he stretched out his hand to offer it to Sean, Sean noticed his jacket sleeve had been pushed back a little, and he glimpsed the edges of a tattoo. Not a professional one, but the dark blue lines of the homemade variety. The kind you got in prison.
He frowned, wondering just how much Julie knew about her next-door neighbor. But there was no time to quiz the old fellow. Not now. He took the envelope quickly, glancing back toward the house and hoping to God Jax hadn’t seen the exchange.
“Thank you, Mr. White.”
“Call me Rodney.” He pursed his lips, shook his head. “Tell you the truth, I’m worried about those girls.”
“So am I, Rodney.” Sean was itching to be away, to be out searching for Julie, to read the note she’d left. “Did you see anyone near the house after Julie and Dawn left?”
“No. Why, has someone been there?”
“Yeah, there’s been a break-in. The police are looking into it.”
The man shook his head slowly, sadly.
Sean looked longingly toward his car. “Look, they’ll probably question you when they come out. Can you do me a favor?”
He nodded. “You don’t want me to tell them about that note she left you. I don’t figure that’s anything they need to know, Mr. MacKenzie. That’s private, between you and Julie.”
Sean thanked the man and got into his car. But he only drove around the block before pulling over, taking out the envelope and reading the letter inside. The handwriting was Jones’s.
Sean,
Dawnie and I have left town. I’d tell you it’s only for a few days, like I’ve been telling her and even myself, but the truth is, I don’t know when we’ll be back. I don’t know if we’ll be back at all. Don’t try to call us. There’s no cell phone reception where we’re going. Don’t feel as if you need to break it to Allan Westcott on my behalf. I’ll find a pay phone somewhere and call him later in the morning. Meanwhile, here’s that scoop I promised you. Consider it a going-away present. It’ll make you famous. Mordecai Young is alive and well and going by the name Nathan Z. I realized it when he slipped into that Southern drawl during the show.
About what else happened—between us, I mean—last night, hell, there’s not much point in going there, is there? I don’t know what it meant, Sean, if it meant anything at all. I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around to find out. I doubt it was anything earth-shattering on your end, but it sure as hell threw me for a loop. And I don’t regret a single second of it.
If you care, MacKenzie, I’d really prefer you burn this note and tell no one about it. But I guess you’ll do what you want with it. It’s out of my hands.
Thanks—thanks for everything. Believe it or not, I’m going to miss you.
That was it, the end. She’d signed the bottom “Jones.” He traced the swirls and loops of the letters with his eyes and then his fingertip. And then he paused, frowning at the tiny blotch on the sheet that suggested a drop of water—or maybe a tear?
Yeah, in your dreams, MacKenzie, he told himself. His throat felt oddly tight, and he found it tough to swallow. He needed some coffee. But not before he’d read the note one more time. Jesus, she shouldn’t have taken off on her own like this. Not without telling him just what the hell was going on. Then again, she didn’t need to tell him, did she? He could put the pieces together. Jones had been at the Young Believers’ compound on the day of the raid. She’d lived to tell the tale, and Mordecai Young—a man wanted on a dozen charges, including unlawful imprisonment, statutory rape, murder and federal drug and weapons violations—stood to lose everything if she talked. She obviously believed he was after her.
He read the letter again, searching for clues as to where she might have gone, but there were none, aside from the obscure remark that there would be no cell phone reception there. Then he stopped on the one line that give him hope. “Don’t feel like you have to break it to Allan Westcott yourself. I’ll find a pay phone somewhere and call him later in the morning.”
“That’s it. That’s how I find her,” he whispered. “If it’s not already too late.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Julie drove the car along the winding road, twisting under overhanging trees that still held on to their thin layers of brightly colored leaves. The fall foliage was well past its peak, but there was still color to be seen. The trees, she thought, were like old women who applied bright makeup to their crinkle-paper faces just to let the world know in no uncertain terms that there was still life inside. It was a show of defiance against aging and death, the way those few scarlet and yellow leaves clung to the bony arms of the skeletal trees. It was a shout against decay.
“So where are we?” Dawn asked. She had a road atlas open on her lap.
Glancing sideways, Julie said, “Look in the north and find Herkimer County.”
Dawn’s finger ran along the map, and her eyes followed. “Oh!” She looked through the windshield again. “So these are the Adirondack Mountains?”
“We’re in the thick of them.”
“Cool. How far are we going?”
Julie shrugged. She’d been racking her brain to figure a way out of this mess, but she was drawing a big fat blank. She could try to find evidence to tie Mordecai to the murders he’d committed. Tessa, Sirona—even Harry Blackwood. But she couldn’t do that from here, and if she stayed home, the bastard would try to take Dawn away.
She couldn’t risk that.
It had even occurred to her to wonder if she were capable of killing him. She wasn’t certain she was, but she hadn’t ruled it out. The list of things she wouldn’t or couldn’t do to protect Dawn was tiny. Microscopic. Maybe blank.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“How far are we going?”
Julie realized she’d already asked the question once. “I don’t know. Till we find a place that strikes us as perfect. Maybe we can rent a cabin on one of these lakes. I think it’s sort of off-season.”
“There sure are a lot of them. Lakes, I mean.”
“One after another.” She’d told Dawn she wanted a spontaneous getaway. A long mother-daughter weekend. There was so much she had to explain to her daughter. This would be a good time to begin.
“I’m getting kind of hungry,” Dawn said. “Can we think about stopping for a hardy northern breakfast soon?”
“You got it.” She glanced at her watch. They’d been on the road for several hours already, taking a wildly roundabout route, just in case anyone had tried to follow. It was 10:00 a.m., and she hadn’t yet called her boss. She would have to do that soon.
She felt warm inside when she remembered him. She hadn’t known he could be so tender—or so talented. Her lips trembled. She wondered where things might have led if she hadn’t had to run for life.
But there was no point in pondering things that would never happen. She honestly didn’t think she and Dawn were ever going to be heading back home.
She kept on driving, looking now for a place to stop and eat. Eventually they saw a log cabin with a sign hanging in front advertising Down Home Cookin’ At Family Prices and Julie pulled into the driveway-size parking lot and killed the engine.
“I’m thinking pancakes,” Dawn said. “Or maybe French toast.”
“I’m going for an omelette. Gooey cheese and mushrooms.”
“Blueberry syrup—unless they have maple. Real maple, not the phony stuff.”
“I’ll bet they do. Heck, with all these trees around here, why wouldn’t they?” Julie got out of the car and waited for Dawn to unbuckle and do the same. Then she hit the lock button on her key chain.
A car passed on the road behind them as they walked into the diner, and Julie noticed Dawn frowning at it as continued on the road.
“Honey? What’s wrong?”
Dawn frowned, gave her head a shake. “Nothing. I’ve been hanging around my jumpy mom too much, I think.” She smiled brightly, even though deep down she had to know something was wrong—that this was more flight than vacation. But she was too good a kid to press her mother on it right then. Instead she hooked her arm through Julie’s and tugged. They walked side by side into the diner, where a sign over the counter told them this place had not only real maple syrup but the best real maple syrup to be found.
* * *
He didn’t want to burn Julie’s note, dammit. He wanted to keep it, in case he never saw her again. Besides, it might have more clues to yield. He pursed his lips. Lieutenant Jackson would want to talk to him again. Jones was still a suspect in the Harry Blackwood murder and she had skipped town. For an instant a vision flashed through Sean’s mind of Jax and one of her uniformed sidekicks slamming him up against his car the second he stepped out of it, frisking him and finding the note.
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