Window of Death (Window of Time Trilogy Book 2)

by DJ Erfert

  “Oh, good grief,” Lucy said under her breath. “This is going to be a long drive.”

  ~*~

  The icy wind sucked Lucy’s breath away and woke her from her travel-induced nap.

  It’s happening!

  The nighttime highway held little color to begin with, but the multi-hued lights on Sunny’s dashboard blinked black and white, and shades of gray as quickly as the occupants froze in time.

  In the next moment, Lucy’s perspective changed. She could see the front of a convenience store with gas pumps lining the parking lot. She recognized the place. It was her favorite stop for getting lunch and ice cream when she traveled between L.A. and Phoenix. The place was smaller than most highway truck stops, but always busy—during the day. Lucy found her window glowing brilliantly inside, and trapped inside the window was an older man—a clerk ringing up a customer.

  From around the side of the building, a man—or more of a boy—dressed in baggy black pants and an oversized Lakers purple sports jacket, came from the darkness. His head bobbed around like it wasn’t attached tight enough as he walked through the front doors. Lucy’s perspective changed again, and she could see the boy pull a gun out from under his coat. The gun went off as the old man tried to grab it from the boy’s hand, and the boy ran out, leaving the clerk dead.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Things changed.

  It was like it never happened.

  Lucy knew she had a chance to save Harvey Wallace, the seventy-six-year-old clerk who greeted her by name every time she came in.

  Lucy sat up straight. “Junie, pull into the Am/Pm.”

  “But we just had a bathroom break an hour ago,” she said.

  “It’s not for that.” Lucy reached down to her ankle and took out her gun.

  “What happened?” Sunny asked from the backseat.

  “I had a window.” Lucy tucked the small automatic into the back of her waistband. “I need to stop a friend from getting killed in a robbery.”

  “Oh, crap,” Junie said. “At a convenience store?”

  “Yes.” Lucy sat forward and watched the small town come into view. “The Am/Pm is on the right.”

  “I know where it is,” Junie said. “We’ve stopped there for ice cream before.”

  Lucy looked out the side-view mirror. “Do you see Kate’s Suburban?”

  Junie shook her head. “No. I lost sight of her an hour ago.”

  “But I’m sure she’s still shadowing us,” Sunny said.

  Junie slowed down and pulled into the parking lot.

  “Pull up next to a gas pump,” Lucy said as she watched the people coming and going. “We’re looking for a boy about fifteen, wearing black pants and a purple jacket. I want to intercept him before he gets inside.” Her phone vibrated, and she slipped it out of her pocket. “It’s Kate. She’s asking if we’re getting ice cream.” Lucy handed Junie her phone. “Text her and tell her what we’re doing. I need to keep watching.”

  One full minute passed before Lucy caught sight of a dark figure moving from the alley to behind the industrial trashcan. “There he is. You two stay in the car.”

  “But we can help—”

  “Stay here!” Lucy ordered harshly while opening her door. She stayed behind the cars parked in the other gas bays before sprinting to the front of the building. The boy had disappeared, but she knew where he’d be in a few seconds. She met him at the corner with her hand to his throat and shoved him back into the dark side of the building with the full force of her angry body.

  She bounced his head off the stucco as she reached under his jacket, and took out his gun before he could react. She slid it into her jacket pocket and took out her CIA identification, and flipped it open. What little light there was illuminated it enough for him to see it. His eyes went wide.

  “Don’t you ever try robbing a store again.” Lucy squeezed his throat tighter, leaning her face closer still, and said with a threatening voice, “Remember, we’re watching you.” She released her grip and stepped aside, and he coughed his way running into the alley.

  “A very interesting teaching technique, Agent James.”

  Lucy swung around at the sound of Kate’s voice. She should have expected the back up. “It worked.”

  “What would have happened?”

  Lucy smiled. “Let’s go inside and get some ice cream, and say hi to Harvey.”

  Kate frowned. “Harvey?”

  “He’s okay. It never happened.” Lucy put her hand against her chest, feeling the icy churnings of her side effect pushing out in waves stronger and stronger every passing moment. The car was parked too far away for her to run to it. She dropped to her knees. Kate kept her from hitting the stucco wall as she fainted.

  ~*~

  Lucy spooned the chocolate ice cream into her mouth and smooshed it with her tongue before she swallowed. She’d glance over at Harvey every so often as he rang up another customer. He smiled at each person. She didn’t know any of his history, but he had a small tattoo of an anchor on his forearm, so he was probably in the navy once. Lucy wanted to talk to him, to ask him if he had a family. He wore a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean his wife was still alive.

  Kate sat with them instead of staying in the background while they enjoyed their ice cream. She also told Junie and Sunny how Lucy taught the young man a hard and just lesson.

  “Lucy,” Sunny asked, with her voice just above a whisper, “how often do you have your windows?” She had a banana split with chocolate fudge on each different flavor of ice cream.

  “It’s never the same each day—”

  “Each day? You mean you have them every day?” Junie asked quickly, putting her spoon down.

  “No, not every day.” Lucy looked around and took another bite of her ice cream. As it melted in her mouth, she thought about her answer. “When I was laid up after my mission to Long Island, I didn’t have one for the whole time I was house bound, but my first day back to work I had one.” She leaned closer to her friends. “I’ve been training since I was eleven years old to change what I see in these windows. I have a third degree black belt in Taekwondo, and that’s only because I didn’t have time to advance any further. And thanks to the CIA, I think I can beat any situation I come up against.”

  “I think you can, too,” Kate said softly. She crumpled up her napkin. “When are we getting back on the road? It will be past midnight before we get to our hotel at the rate we’re traveling.”

  Lucy stared at what was left in the long narrow dish sitting in front of Sunny. She had plowed through her dessert. She’d been eating like a horse since she they left LA. “Sunny, are you pregnant?”

  The doctor’s head popped upright, the plastic spoon still in her mouth as a grin spread across her face.

  “Oh—are you kidding?” Junie asked. Her arms went around Sunny’s shoulders in a sudden hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Me, too,” Lucy said, smiling.

  “I was wondering what was taking you so long,” Kate said, getting up. She leaned down and gave her doctor a hug.

  “How far along are you?” Lucy asked, as she leaned over the small table and gave her friend a gentle squeeze.

  “Seven weeks.”

  “It figures.” Junie pushed her empty dish away from the edge. “You try once and get pregnant.”

  “Oh, we didn’t try just once,” Sunny said slowly, scooping out the last of the melted chocolate ice cream and fudge.

  “This is getting embarrassing,” Lucy said. “We should get going now.”

  ~*~

  Kate tossed her bag onto the nearest bed. “I’ll take this one.”

  “I’ll take the other one,” Lucy said.

  A quiet knock came at the connecting door. When Lucy opened it, she found Junie standing on the other side. “Hi—” Lucy left the door standing open and peeked her head inside their room. Sunny had the bed nearest the door, but was headed for the restroom with an overnight bag. “I’m sorry for slowing thi
ngs up,” Lucy said.

  “It’s okay,” Kate said, falling onto her bed. “I’m not that tired for some reason.”

  “I’m not either,” Lucy agreed.

  “Well, I am,” Junie said, standing in the doorway. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Junie,” Lucy said. “Thanks for coming with us.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Goodnight,” Kate said.

  Lucy sat down on the bed next to Kate after Junie went back into their room and watched Kate take out her laptop from its travel case. “Are you going to check your email?

  “No. I wanted to do a little more research on your birth certificate before we speak to your father.” She opened her computer, and the screen came to life.

  Lucy scooted closer. “How are you going to track it down?”

  “I have a couple of ideas.” She went through the steps to capture the hotel’s internet, and using her connections with the agency brought up the Arizona Department of Vital Statistics. “I’m going to scan the certificates for two weeks on either side of your birth date.” Kate slowly scrolled and studied each one. “Normally,” she said quietly, “when you take an alias you try to stay as close to your real name as possible so you can remember it easier. So I’d say there will be at least one name in common with the certificate we have in the agency’s file.”

  “Wow,” Lucy whispered, as she watched Kate slowly scroll the microfiche. “There were a lot of births that month.”

  Kate let out a heavy breath. “Yeah, but you weren’t born then.” She began typing again. “At least not in Arizona.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m checking California now.” Kate brought up the California State seal. “If we can’t find it there, then we’ll try Nevada.” She looked up and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll find it.”

  Lucy nodded and crossed her legs, and leaned her elbows on her knees. “I just can’t believe that my dad could be the man who killed my mother. I’ve never even seen my dad get angry.”

  Sunny came out of the bathroom dressed in pajamas. “You don’t think that Lucy could have been raised by a serial killer and not know anything about his character, do you?”

  “Back in nineteen seventy-eight, a man in New Mexico was discovered to have thirteen dismembered bodies buried in his back yard in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. They were the murdered remains of teenage boy hitchhikers he had killed over a twenty-year period, and every single person they interviewed had nothing but nice things to say about their neighbor.” Kate sat upright and stilled her hands. “Some people have a tendency to hide their dark side. Uh, I did some research before I left the police station.”

  “What kind of research?” Sunny asked, climbing up on Lucy’s bed.

  “I tried to find any information about Lucy’s father. I wanted to know when he was born, where he went to school, and where he was today, and if he had any outstanding warrants or had ever been arrested, but,”—Kate let her stare settle on Lucy—“I had a little trouble finding anything current on Jackson Alexander James.” She looked over at Sunny. “That’s the name Lucy had in her file for him.

  “What do you mean?” Lucy asked as she felt her heart sinking down to her empty, churning stomach.

  “I found a death certificate for Jackson James. He died twenty-nine years ago in El Cajon, California about the time you were six months old.”

  “He’s … dead?” Lucy’s breath came in short gasps. “No, he—then the man who raised me isn’t—isn’t my dad?”

  “Did that man kidnap Lucy and assume her father’s name?” Sunny asked.

  “No, no. If I’m right, then I believe that your father assumed the identity of Jackson Alexander James after that man died. Let me finish my search,” Kate said. “I’m going to pull up the obituaries from the local newspapers. They’re all on microfiche. It’s just a matter of accessing them.”

  Lucy lay down, reached for a pillow, and tucked it under her head. She waited for Kate to seal her fate. Had she been abducted as a baby? Was the man she grew up with a serial murderer? Everything she remembered, all the happy times she had with him, and all the times he’d consoled her were suspect. What was his motive? It couldn’t be for love. Killers couldn’t love anyone but themselves. She felt a nudge on her leg, and Lucy sat up.

  “Did you find something?”

  “Yes, an obituary on Mr. Jackson James.”

  Sunny leaned up on her elbow and watched.

  Kate read out loud. “Our good friend and neighbor, Jack Alexander James, passed away on Saturday, February 12, 1988. Official reports may say he died when his heart gave out at the age of 55 but his closest friends believe he just crossed the last thing to do off his bucket list and wanted a new adventure in Heaven. Jack was born in Los Angeles in May of 1933 and died at the UCLA Medical Center, Santa Monica. He had no children, but he had plenty of friends who will miss him.”

  “He had no children,” Sunny repeated.

  “And there can’t be more than one Jack James?” Lucy asked.

  “There can be, but I can’t find a profile that matches your father.”

  “So,” Sunny said, leaning closer to Lucy, “if the man who raised you is your dad, then he assumed this man’s name. He took an alias. Why?”

  “He’s hiding from somebody,” Junie said from the doorway. “Maybe … he’s in a witness protection program.”

  “Or on the run from the law,” Lucy said sullenly. “If he is my dad.” Lucy stared at the computer screen and at the photocopy of the newspaper article. It looked so innocuous, but it screamed of a lie she’d been living for twenty-nine years. She slid off the bed and paced the floor. “Find the name of the man who claims to be my dad.”

  “Lucy, I believe he is your father,” Kate said as she stroked the keys of the computer again. “I think he took Jack James’ name to protect you—”

  “And him,” Sunny said.

  “And him, too,” Kate agreed. “But for whatever the reason, he didn’t want anyone to find either of you.” She looked up at Lucy. “Maybe he knew the killer.”

  “You mean if it wasn’t him?” Lucy paused long enough to stare at the redhead. “You think he found me, but didn’t report the murder because then he’d have to tell the police who did kill her?”

  “That sounds plausible.”

  “But if he knew who it was, why wouldn’t he want to tell the police?”

  Kate shook her head. “I don’t know.” She stroked the keys of her computer again. “I want to see the father’s name on your birth certificate, and then we can track him down from there. And since he took the name of a man in California, I think a good place to start looking would be in that same state.”

  “Me, too,” Sunny said, slipping her legs over the side of her bed and sitting up.

  “So do I,” Junie said, climbing onto the bed where Lucy had been sitting.

  “Let’s assume he wanted to keep your same birth date.” Kate pulled up the California Vital Statistics and imputed the year. “1987, November.” She began to slowly scroll through each certificate on file. Sunny sat down behind Junie and looked around her shoulder at the screen. Kate slowed the scrolling down a little the closer to the 12th she got. She whizzed by a boy’s certificate, and slowed down to a stop when a girl’s name came into view.

  “Oh, crap,” Kate whispered, placing her hands on her knees.

  Lucy froze in place. She couldn’t move. From the startled expressions on all three women’s faces, either they discovered her father to be the future king of England, or Charles Manson. When her mouth could move enough to talk, she asked, “What is it?”

  Kate looked up. “We found it.”

  “You were born in Los Angeles, California,” Junie said softly.

  “On November 12th, 1987,” Sunny said.

  “But your last name isn’t James,” Kate said. She got up off the bed, turned the laptop around, and tilted the screen back for
Lucy to see. “Your real name is Lucille Spencer … Steele.”

  “Steele?” Lucy choked out in a whisper. Her stare dropped down to the microfiche copy of a long hidden document—one that she was never meant to see.

  “Your father’s name is Cooper Steele,” Kate said, holding on to Lucy’s shoulder.

  Lucy gasped out loud. “Cooper Steele? From Steele Reinforcement? No, it can’t be!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I’m sorry, Lucy,” Kate said. “But now you know why he’s so interested in you.”

  “And why he bugged your house yesterday,” Junie said.

  “He did?” Sunny asked. “Why?”

  Lucy shook her head. “My mother’s name. What’s my mother’s name?”

  Junie turned the computer back around. “Sara Kelly Spencer …” Looking up, she captured Lucy’s angry stare, and said, “Steele.”

  “So they were married?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he didn’t report her murder.”

  “No,” Kate said.

  “I need to know why.” Lucy grabbed her jacket off the chair and tugged it on.

  “Where’re you going?” Kate asked, coming up behind her.

  Picking up her handbag, Lucy said, “I told you, I need to talk to—to him.” She slipped the strap over her head and hung the bag on her shoulder, heading for the door.

  “Now?” Kate grabbed her elbow, stopping her. “Can’t you wait until morning?” Lucy jerked out of her grasp.

  “No, I can’t.” She swung her arm toward the bed. “How can I sleep now anyway? I thought my dad was a construction contractor, not a hired gun.” Lucy rubbed her forehead and tried to push back the growing headache. “I need some answers.” She raised her voice and said, “I deserve some answers.”

  “I know you do.” Kate took a hairpin out of her up-do. “Can you give me a few minutes to change? I want to come with you.”

  ~*~

  It was amazing how much a woman could change her appearance in a scant three minutes. Kate went from the prim executive assistant dressed in a classy suit to an undercover agent clothed totally in black denim and leather. She’d brushed her dark red hair over her shoulders, allowing the long tresses to flow down her back in curly waves Lucy never knew she had. Gone was the stern office professional. Lucy sat next to her equal—and she felt safe.