The 13th Victim

by Linda S. Prather

  The streets were empty, and it only took him a few minutes to reach his apartment. He breathed a short-lived sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him and flipped on the light.

  “Hello, Jerry.”

  Jerry removed his hand from the gun he’d automatically reached for. “What are you doing here, Anders?”

  “We got the picture. You were right. The Cobra is in town.”

  “That’s your problem now, not mine. I’m don’t work for you guys anymore.”

  Anders rose and dropped a manila envelope on the table. “I understand the body count around here is rising. There are a few things in there you don’t know, so I think it’s your problem too.” He dropped a card on top of the envelope. “Read the paperwork then give me a call. I’ll be staying at the Radisson today and catching a flight out tomorrow. Find something I can use against her, and I’ll be glad to take her off your hands.”

  Jerry didn’t bother to answer as Anders let himself out. He locked the door behind him and yanked at the tie that was suddenly choking the life out of him. Taking the seat that Anders had vacated on the couch, he tossed the card on the table and reached for the envelope. Things kept going from bad to worse, and if the Cobra was involved in what was going on, it wouldn’t stop until she’d finished the job she was hired to do.

  He pulled out the papers, tossing aside the eight-by-ten glossy. His stomach lurched as he read the dossier, and a shiver cascaded down his spine when he reached the last line: Cherese Tomasa, aka Cherese Thomas. Known relatives: Richard Thomas, father.

  ~ ~ ~

  Shamus fidgeted in the seat, his gaze again straying to the young blonde seated to his left. She was pretty, although somewhat paler than most of the younger crowd. Maybe I should start coming to church more often. His mother placed her hand on his arm, signaling it was time for Eucharist. Shamus brought his attention to Father Brennan. He still hadn’t attended confession, and he felt like a hypocrite as he participated in the ritual.

  He watched the girl out of the corner of his eye as she took communion. Something about her tugged at his heart. She looked alone and sad, feelings he was familiar with.

  His mother leaned in, whispering in his ear. “Introduce us, Shamus. Where are your manners?”

  Shamus fought to control the blush he felt creeping up his neck and touched her arm. “Shamus O’Conner, and this is me mum, Fiona O’Conner. We wanted to welcome you.”

  Her smile was lovely, and she extended a hand to his mother. “Tracy Carter. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Any kin to Andi Carter, the reporter?” Shamus asked.

  Tracy shook her head. “No, but I’ve read some of her articles. She’s quite brilliant. Do you know her?”

  “She’s my boss at work.”

  Fiona stepped around him. “Do you have family here, Miss Carter?”

  “No. I’m on vacation, and attending mass always makes me feel closer to my mother.”

  “Aye, it gets into your blood.” She took Tracy’s arm, leaving Shamus to follow along behind them as they headed out of the church. “You must come home with us for lunch.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “I insist. What would your mother think of me if I didn’t take care of you in her absence? Shamus can drive you home afterwards.”

  Tracy turned to Shamus for help. “I don’t want to put you out. My mother would totally understand.”

  “No trouble at all, lass. Our meal is simple: a bowl of potato soup and freshly baked bread.”

  Fiona left them for a moment, hurrying off to speak to someone else.

  “You might as well give in. Mum believes in the old ways of hospitality, and she cannot take no for an answer.” Her smile made him flush again, and he ducked his head as Fiona hurried toward them but immediately became distracted by another parishioner. “Humor her for my sake, please.”

  “All right, but just for lunch.”

  “Aye, I promise, just for lunch. She always takes a nap afterwards. My brothers arrived early yesterday for a visit and wore her out. She’s not as spry as she pretends to be.”

  “She’s lovely. Reminds me of my own mother.”

  Shamus led her to the car, thankful he’d cleaned it out the night before. “Have you been following Andi’s stories in the paper?”

  “Every day. I do some writing myself, and the story is fascinating. You have no idea who this young woman is?”

  Shamus shook his head and stood by the open door, waiting for his mother. “She’s managed to stay well hidden so far.”

  “Tell me about Miss Carter. What’s it like to work with her?”

  “At times, very frustrating. She’s tough, opinionated, and a darn good investigative reporter. But she’s honest and loyal. The detective she’s working with asked her to bring the girl in.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “She told him she would ask the girl, but she told me she certainly wouldn’t advise her to do it.” He turned and waved to his mother. “Good thing too, because of those two police officers.”

  Fiona finally arrived, and Shamus opened the door for her. “I’ll be stopping by to check tomorrow’s post later, if you’d like to meet Andi. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  Tracy dazzled him with another lovely smile. “I’d love to.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jasmine paid special attention to her makeup and applied a second spray of Eau d’Hadrien. Stuart had told her it was Thaddeus Morgan’s favorite. The mayor was a little man with a big name, and she wondered if his parents had a sense of humor, or if they had chosen the name so he would have to get tough to live up to it. If that had been their intention, it failed. From everything she’d seen, his wife wore the pants in that house—when she was sober enough to pull them on.

  Her intercom buzzed, and she slipped her feet into the flats she’d chosen. Even without heels, she was going to be at least two inches taller than his five-foot-two. “I’ll be right down.”

  She smiled at Bart Smith when she stepped out of the elevator. He was her favorite limo driver. He was always sweet and respectful, but she could tell by the way his muscles rippled underneath his jacket that he was prepared to protect the girls if necessary. One of the reasons Stuart was so successful in his escort business was because he spared no expense in sending his clients off in style, and he took the extra precautions to make sure the girls were safe at all times. “How are you today, Bart?”

  “Just fine, Miss Jasmine.”

  Bart escorted her to the limo waiting by the curb and opened the door for her. “We’re meeting Mr. Morgan at the restaurant.”

  “Thank you, Bart.” She slid into the cool leather seat and took a deep breath as Bart closed her door. Her hands trembled, and she clasped them in her lap as she stared at the fully stocked bar. Maybe I do need a drink. The limo pulled into traffic, and she leaned back and fastened her seatbelt. She was on a mission, and she needed to be sharp and clearheaded.

  The window between Bart and the back seat slid open. “I can’t reach Stuart this morning. Have you heard from him?”

  “Not since yesterday.” She leaned forward in the seat so she could see his face. “He did mention that he might take a vacation.”

  “What happened to your face?”

  The question caught her slightly off guard. She’d been sure that the makeup completely hid the bruise. “I was hoping it wasn’t noticeable.”

  His eyes sought out hers in the rearview mirror. “Most people wouldn’t notice it.” He smiled. “It’s part of the job for me. If a customer did that, I’d like to know.”

  “It wasn’t a customer.”

  Jasmine noticed the tightening of his hands on the wheel. “Was it Stuart?”

  “Of course not.” She took a moment to study his profile, something she would normally have done with anyone, but hadn’t considered necessary with Stuart’s drivers. “Is there something I should know? I wasn’t aware that Stuart was in the habit of hitting his girl
s.”

  “How well do you know Morgan?” The conversation was becoming more interesting, especially because of the way Bart avoided each of her questions by asking another question. It was a habit most operatives learned early to avoid giving out too much information while keeping the target talking.

  “I don’t really know him. I met him and his wife at a function Stuart asked me to attend.”

  Jasmine pulled out a mirror and checked her lipstick. “How long have you worked for Stuart?”

  He turned into the parking lot for Lucques and pulled to the back. “I’ll be in the parking lot if you have any trouble or you change your mind.” He handed her a small keychain. “If Morgan gets out of hand, you may need this.”

  Jasmine took the item, ducking her head as she chewed on her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Pepper spray? She dropped it into her clutch as Bart exited and came around to open her door. She took the hand he offered. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  He grunted something beneath his breath. “You don’t have to do this, you know. There’s other ways to make a living.”

  “Do you try to talk all Stuart’s girls out of going on dates, or is it just me?”

  He handed her a card, slammed the door, and moved to the front. “If Morgan suggests going somewhere else, call me and let me know.”

  Jasmine walked toward the restaurant, making a mental note to call a friend in IT and have Bart Smith checked out, although Bart Smith probably wasn’t his real name. She’d have to try to find a way to get a picture of him. Something told her he was much more than a normal escort driver. In fact, she was willing to bet he was an agency man. Maybe not CIA, but possibly FBI.

  ~ ~ ~

  Shamus parked the car in front of O’Reilly’s.

  “Miss Carter lives in a bar, and it’s open on Sunday?” Tracy stared at the sign over the door. I really shouldn’t be doing this.

  “She lives temporarily in a small apartment above the bar. And no, it’s closed. Stay here while I make sure she’s decent.” Shamus opened his door and climbed out.

  Tracy clasped her hands in her lap as she watched him walk to the door, knock, then pull out his cell phone. What she was doing was dangerous, but she’d promised herself a normal day around normal people. She might have been young, but she knew that Shamus liked her and would probably ask to see her again. She’d almost burst into tears when his mother had given her what she knew was a sincere and warm hug goodbye and asked her to join them again next Sunday. And his brothers were adorable, adding their voices to his mother’s. I’ll probably be dead by next Sunday.

  Shamus came back to the car and opened her door. “She’s coming down.”

  Tracy took his hand to climb out of the car, surprised by the slight tingle that shot through her wrist. She pulled her hand away and blinked back tears. She’d never had a real boyfriend. And now, I never will. If Shamus knew what I’ve done, he’d hate me.

  Andi opened the door, spied Tracy, and grinned. “Why Irish, you sly fox. I thought I was the only woman in your life.” She stuck out her hand. “Andi Carter. Any friend of Irish’s is destined to be a friend of mine.” She punched Shamus on the arm. “Especially when it makes him blush.”

  Tracy shook her hand, hoping to avoid embarrassing Shamus by not taking note of the pink slowly creeping up his cheeks. “Tracy Carter.”

  “Carter? We’ll have to compare relatives and see if we’re related. Come on in before someone thinks the bar is open. I’ll make us some coffee, unless you’d rather have something stronger. You are legal, right?”

  Tracy laughed nervously. “Of course.”

  “So, where are you from, Tracy?”

  “Can the sixty questions, Andi. She’s already suffered through me mum and me brothers for the last few hours. We just stopped by to read tomorrow’s post. Have you got it ready, lass?”

  “You two, grab a booth.” Andi filled the coffee pot then winked at Tracy. “Don’t you just love the way he talks? And his brothers?”

  Tracy glanced from Andi to Shamus, unsure how to respond.

  “I’ll just run upstairs and get my laptop.”

  Shamus seemed to find a spot on the table terribly interesting, and Tracy could feel his discomfort with Andi’s teasing. “She must really like you.”

  His head came up, his blue eyes filled with confusion. “I don’t know about that.”

  Tracy covered his hand with hers. “My mother always told me, when someone teases you unmercifully it’s because they really like you. They just don’t know any other way to show it.’”

  “Aye, that would be Andi.”

  She pulled her hand back quickly as footsteps bounded down the stairs.

  “This one is going to rock the Tribune’s world.” Andi placed the laptop in front of Shamus. “You two can read. I’ll pour our coffee.”

  Shamus moved to the inside of the booth and patted the seat next to him. “It’ll be easier if you sit here.”

  Tracy slid in beside him, once again feeling a tingle when their thighs touched. Shamus pulled up the article. “Nice title, Andi. Has Sinclair seen it?”

  “No. What do you take in your coffee, Tracy?”

  “Black is fine.” Her gaze was locked on the headline. The 13th Victim, Part 2. ME Confirms a Second Killer Responsible for Police Officer’s Death. “So the girl you’re looking for didn’t kill the police officer?”

  Andi set their cups on the table and slid in to the booth across from them. “No, but somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it look like she did. They even used the exact same kind of knife.”

  Shamus was busy scanning the article. “This is feckin’ great.” He blushed again. “Sorry for me language.”

  “Maybe she didn’t kill the other two, either.” Tracy turned her attention to the article, subconsciously holding her breath.

  “We know she killed the banker, because she told us she did. The ME doesn’t think she killed Marconi, but the police have a witness who saw her there, holding the knife.” Andi sipped her coffee. “There’s just something that’s missing in the story, and I’m not sure what it is. We haven’t heard from her today. I think we should run another personal ad, Shamus, to make sure she’s still okay.”

  “What will happen to the girl if the police catch her?” Tracy asked.

  “A lot depends on the circumstances, but she’ll be tried for murder.” Shamus closed the article and pulled up Andi’s email. “What do you want to say?”

  “TK, worried. Contact me.” Andi glanced at her buzzing cell. “Don’t forget to mention somehow that she shouldn’t go back to the church, but keep it short and simple.”

  Why shouldn’t I go back to the church? Tracy tried to think of a way to ask the question without raising their suspicion.

  Shamus finished typing and sent the message. “Do you need to take that?”

  Andi shook her head. “Palano can wait.”

  “Who’s Palano?” Tracy asked.

  “A detective. I’ll call him later and scoop Tuesday’s headline. Thanks to our girl, three more bodies were recovered from Marconi’s buildings yesterday. I just wish she’d give us all of them before whoever did this destroys any evidence we could use to identify the victims and their killers.”

  “Evidence?”

  “DNA on the first one revealed Marconi was with her before she died. He was probably the one who killed her.” Andi bit her lower lip. “Oh, shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that. Please don’t say anything to anyone.”

  “I won’t. I actually don’t know very many people here, so there isn’t anyone for me to tell.”

  “If we could locate all the bodies before the evidence is corrupted or destroyed, we could pinpoint who else is involved before they find her.” Andi drained her cup and sighed. “I think we’re running out of time.”

  “Couldn’t you just search all the buildings these people have built?” Tracy asked. “She might not know where all the bodies are buried, or maybe she do
esn’t know about the evidence. You could put something like that in your ad.”

  “It sounds easy, but if anyone is watching the personal ads, it wouldn’t take much for them to figure it out. And checking all the buildings isn’t possible because we have no idea when all this started. It could have been months, and that would mean hundreds of possible burial sites. Cost prohibitive for the city to simply check all of them without something else to go on.”

  A sharp pounding sounded on the front door. “You expecting someone, Andi?” Shamus asked.

  “No, but since I didn’t answer Palano’s phone call, it’s probably him.” Andi rose. “You two might want to make your escape out the back. He’s worse at sixty questions than I am.” She smiled at Tracy. “And he’ll probably assume you’re our girl.” She crossed to the door and yelled, “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

  Tracy rose and followed Shamus to the double doors. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Carter.”

  Andi nodded while running her hands through her messed-up hair. “Shamus will have to bring you by the office sometime so you can see the splendor reporters really work in.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Shamus ushered her into the kitchen. He stopped at the back door and listened before opening it.

  “Do we need to lock it?” Tracy whispered as they snuck around the back of the building.

  “Automatic lock when it closes.” Shamus peeked around the corner of the building before taking her hand and rushing to the car. “Andi’s right about Palano. We would have been there another hour.”

  Shamus opened the car door for her, and Tracy slid in and buckled her seatbelt. His eyebrows had pulled together in the center, creating deep furrows. “What’s wrong?”

  “I hate to leave Andi alone with him. They don’t get on very well. Bad history, I think.” He started the car. “She’s been through some sort of trauma herself, and that’s why she feels so much empathy for this girl.”

  “I’m not staying far from here. I could walk.”