by Darcia Helle
“This is a police investigation. You have no business -”
“Oh cut the bullshit,” Jesse said. “Back off Wilkes.”
“I have nothing to do with that investigation. My men are following leads. Doing their job.”
“Leads? You mean a bunch of fabricated bullshit arranged by Covington?”
“Ryder, do us both a favor and stay out of this.”
“Do you remember our talk?”
“I’ve kept my word. No one has come near you.”
“Rules have changed,” Jesse said.
Jesse disconnected the call. He yanked his wallet from his pants and searched through a stack of business cards. He found the one he was looking for, a basic white card with bold black print. He’d had it since the week before he graduated from the police academy.
The card belonged to Robert Taylor of the FBI. Rob had told him to call anytime, wanted to give him a job. But Jesse hadn’t been interested. Still wasn’t. Not in the job anyway.
Alex had been pacing the length of his den for the past fifteen minutes. Wilkes should have been released long ago. He would have called Ryder for help by now. That was the logical step for the man to take. Ryder would be irate and no doubt would react accordingly. That was his nature. So what was taking so long?
He left his den and walked out to the living room. The house was silent. A chill clung to the air. He stood looking at the stairway, as if he expected someone to come down at any moment.
Finally he turned away. His eyes fell to the stack of CDs that sat on top of the unused stereo. Once that stereo had been a source of aggravation. All that angry music. Stephen had been too weak to vent that anger. Much too weak. And so he’d sought release in music. His only son had been a failure.
Sadly, Lauren had all the qualities he’d hoped for in a son. She had the strength Stephen had lacked. Alex had no doubt that he could have molded her at a young age, shown her the power available to her, given her a taste of his world and prepared her to work beside him.
If only she’d been male.
The phone rang, snapping him back to the present. He snatched up the cordless and barked a hello.
“Alex, it’s me,” said Barnes.
“It’s about damn time,” Alex said. “I trust Ryder took the bait?”
“He called. But he knows we’re setting Wilkes up.”
“Naturally. He’s no fool.”
“He’s pissed, Alex. Like a stick of dynamite ready to go off.”
“We need to get rid of him.”
“We talked about this the other night,” Barnes said. “We can’t. We still haven’t found those copies of the files. I had my men search Lauren’s friend’s apartment this morning. That girl she’s been staying with. They went through it with a fine tooth comb. Found nothing. Ryder’s apartment is clean as well.”
“What about his friend on the force?”
“Tim O’Leary?” Barnes said. “We can’t get in there. He’s got some sort of setup at his parents’ place. The old lady is always home. Sick or something. He helps out. And my men tell me O’Leary’s got one mean looking Doberman.”
“So shoot the damn thing.”
“What about the old lady? Alex, we need to be very careful here.”
“Does Ryder have family? Someone else he trusts?”
“One sister living in the city,” Barnes said. “Well-off, expensive home, alarm system, and a maid… housekeeper… whatever. Comes every day.”
“Obstacles. Find a way around them. Be creative, for once in your career.”
“We’re doing the best we can. These things take time.”
“We don’t have time,” Alex said. “I want Ryder dead. And I want it to happen by tomorrow evening.”
“I know how you feel. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Grab him. Torture him. Do whatever the hell you need in order to get him to tell you where those copies are kept.”
“Look Alex, have you considered, you know, maybe leaving the country?”
Alex clamped his jaw shut. He wanted to reach through the line and strangle the cowardly captain. He sucked in a long breath. “You want me to run? Is that what you’re suggesting?”
“It’s not such a bad thing. You’ve got plenty of money to live well.”
“That would be admitting defeat. That would be allowing one overly cocky rebel to dictate my life. If I am going to leave the country, James, it will be of my own volition. On my own terms.”
“I understand.”
“If you cannot find those files by tomorrow evening,” Alex said, “I want Ryder. I want him here in my home and I want to watch him die slowly. Then, and only then, will I take my bags and go.”
Barnes exhaled a long breath. “Understood.”
“I would much prefer you find those files. As I’m sure you would as well. I can afford to leave, James. Can you? And are you prepared to leave your family behind?”
“I’ll find the files.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Alex set the phone down. He stood staring at the silent staircase.
33
Jesse woke at seven a.m. to the sound of his cell phone ringing next to his ear. He was laying on the couch, fully dressed, TV remote still in his hand. Wanting to shut out the noise, he snatched up the phone and mumbled an unintelligible hello.
“Jesse? You’re okay? What is going on?”
“Huh?” Jesse sat up, rubbed his eyes. “Who is this?”
“Monica. Your sister. Remember me?”
“It’s early.”
“Pardon the disturbance,” Monica said. “But the police just left here.”
“Really?” Jesse imagined the police banging on Monica’s door at dawn. He almost laughed. “Did you cook them breakfast?”
“Jesse, this is serious. They claim you’re interfering with an investigation by withholding evidence.”
“And they thought I may have asked you to hold on to it for me?”
“Yes. They had a search warrant, Jesse. They tore my house apart!”
“Sorry ‘bout that.”
“What is this about? Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“No,” Jesse said. “Actually, they are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain it all later. In the meantime, keep your doors locked and your alarm set.”
“Why? What on earth are you involved in?”
“Just listen to me for once, okay?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“No need to be,” Jesse said. “Read the afternoon paper. Then watch the news tonight. It’ll start making sense to you then.”
“Why can’t you tell me what you’re up to?”
“Gotta go,” Jesse said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Jesse clicked the phone off and tossed it on the couch. Then he walked into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes, and stepped beneath a cool shower. He had just finished rinsing his hair when a thought connected that he should have considered last night. Search warrant. His sister. Why hadn’t they been to his apartment yet? They could have been inside already but his safe was still intact. They’d want to get inside and could do that with a warrant.
Had the idiots not found the safe? Had they managed to get inside again, search the place without him noticing? Had they found anything?
Ten minutes later Jesse was dry and dressed. He tucked his Glock into his jeans, pulled on his jacket. He checked out the windows, saw nothing unusual. Then he stepped out his door, locked it behind him.
The hallway was deserted. The elevator was not moving. He pushed the button, waited for it to get to his floor. Empty. He took the stairs down. No sign of anyone. After a careful walk through the parking lot, he decided he was safely alone. For now.
Back up in his apartment, Jesse grabbed a screwdriver from his junk drawer and walked over to one of his kitchen chairs. He knelt down, flipped the chair over, and unscrewed the padding on the seat bottom. U
nderneath, neatly tucked away, was a manila folder. He took the folder and went to the chair by the window, repeated the same procedure, and retrieved another folder.
Next he went to his closet. The false wall remained intact. He moved it, opened his safe. Nothing out of place. Nothing missing. He grabbed the files, closed everything back up. Then he stuck the collection of files inside his jacket and left the apartment.
Thirty-seven minutes later Jesse was being ushered into Robert Taylor’s office. The FBI agent was tall and lanky, blond with a neatly trimmed mustache. Rob sat at his desk, quietly going through the contents of the manila folders. Every now and then he made a grunting sound. Neither man spoke for nearly an hour.
When Rob finally looked up at Jesse, his eyes were wide, his expression grave. “You weren’t exaggerating,” he said.
Jesse spent the following half hour filling Rob in on the missing pieces and bringing him up to date. Rob listened carefully, without interruption. “Okay,” he said when Jesse had finished. “We’ll take it from here. You’ve made our job easy.”
“What are you looking at for time?” Jesse asked.
“Hard to say,” Rob said. “That’s not entirely my choice. We may be looking at months of investigative work. Then again, we may make some immediate arrests.”
Jesse nodded. A vague reply but the best he could hope for. “Thanks,” he said.
“You’ve done well,” Rob said. “Looking for a job?”
Jesse smiled. “Thanks. And no.”
On the way back to his apartment, Jesse got held up in a traffic jam. A Subaru and a Toyota, whose drivers suffered from blind youth and road rage, had collided. The Subaru crunched into an accordion and the Toyota had apparently spun across the road, stopping when a tree got in its way.
The drivers’ stupidity had left Jesse sitting in a line of other angry drivers for over an hour. He was forced to practice a breathing technique someone once told him would relieve stress. It didn’t work.
Luckily he hadn’t been distracted to the point of stupidity himself. As he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, he spotted the police cruiser before the cops spotted him. He backed out and drove off unnoticed.
Once he’d gotten some distance, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Marc’s number. No answer. He could have been arrested. The poor guy was probably a nut case by now.
Next Jesse dialed Lauren’s hospital room. She answered on the first ring.
“How are you feeling today?” Jesse asked.
“Better,” Lauren said. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Had some things to take care of. I’ll explain when I get there. Do you want anything?”
“Yeah. A nice greasy pizza.”
Jesse laughed. “What’s the matter? You’re not into creamed chicken and instant mashed potatoes?”
“Hospital food is horrible.”
“I agree. I’ll bring the pizza. See you soon.”
Jesse disconnected the call, then dialed his office. Dawn answered, her voice strained and all business.
“Have the cops been there yet?” Jesse asked.
“Yes sir,” Dawn said. “I have that information for you.”
Jesse smiled. “Search warrant, I take it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Do you know if they’re looking to arrest me?”
“I believe so.”
“Thanks,” Jesse said. “I won’t be in today.”
“Shall I make an appointment for you?”
“I’ll call you later.”
“That sounds fine,” Dawn said. “Thank you for calling.”
Jesse kissed Lauren’s lips, all shiny with grease. “Pizza good?” he asked.
“Delicious,” Lauren said. “With treatment like this, I should be up and running around in no time.”
“I sure hope so.”
“My doctor said I can go home tomorrow. I can’t wait! The first thing I’m going to do is lounge in the bathtub until I’m a wrinkled prune!”
“Sounds interesting,” Jesse said. “Am I invited?”
“Most definitely.”
Jesse checked the wall clock for the fourth time in five minutes. 1:14. “What time does the paper come out?”
“Anytime now,” Lauren said. “You’re expecting trouble, aren’t you, once that article is seen?”
Jesse shrugged. “I need to go out. I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry, okay?”
He kissed her lips and was out the door before she could argue. As he turned the corner, he spotted two cops approaching the nurse’s desk. Jesse turned abruptly and strode in the opposite direction. He took the stairs rather than the elevator and was just pulling out of the lot when he spotted the cops running out the front entrance.
Jesse lost himself in a string of side streets, then stopped at a newsstand for the paper. In bold print, on the top of the front page, the headline screamed Alex Covington Exposed. Jesse smiled, jumped back in his car, and tossed the paper on the seat beside him. His cell phone chirped as he was pulling back out onto the street.
“The police were just here,” Lauren said.
“I know,” Jesse said. “Missed me by seconds.”
“What’s going on? Why are they after you?”
“I promise I will explain this all to you later. But not now. Trust me, okay?
“I trust you,” Lauren said. “I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. I’ve got everything under control.”
Jesse had no sooner disconnected the call when his cell phone rang again. He half expected it to be a cop looking to track him down. Get him to turn himself in. It wasn’t.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this article?” Rob Taylor asked.
“I didn’t write it,” Jesse said.
“You going to tell me you had no idea it was being written?”
“No, I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Damn it, Ryder. No wonder you’re always getting yourself in trouble.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Problem?” Rob said. “This piece shines the spotlight right on Covington. And this is only part one. The thing says it’ll be continued in tomorrow’s edition.”
“Really?” Jesse was genuinely surprised. He hadn’t read the article yet, hadn’t even looked past the headline. “I still don’t see the problem. Doesn’t change anything I gave you.”
“No. But it does make Covington a prime candidate to flee.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
“What are you up to?” Rob asked.
“Not a thing.”
“How can we run an investigation under these circumstances?”
“I guess you’ll need to speed things up a bit,” Jesse said.
“Jesus.”
Alex sat in his office, trying to busy his mind with tedious paperwork. He was considering a late lunch with Katrina, his favorite new plaything from reception. She had a way of making him forget everything else for awhile. Suzanne should be back from lunch anytime. He could have her make the reservation for lunch at three and a room at four. The thought made him smile for the first time in days. An early celebration for having Ryder finally disposed of.
A knock on his door interrupted his warm thoughts. “Come in,” he said.
Suzanne stepped into the office. Her face was unusually pale. She hovered by the door. “You’d better take a look at today’s paper,” she said.
Alex frowned. “What is it now?”
“I…” Suzanne hurried over and laid the paper on the desk. “I’ll leave it with you.”
Alex flipped the paper over. The blazing headline mocked him. He was unaware of Suzanne leaving the room, the door closing behind her. He was halfway through the article when his private line rang. He snatched it up. “What is it?”
“It’s me,” Barnes said. “Have you seen today’s paper?”
“I’m looking at it
now.”
“Alex, this is serious trouble for both of us.”
“Both of us? I don’t see your name in bold print!”
“I know. But the article implies things. It won’t be long before all the connections are made.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Cut our losses,” Alex said. “We have no choice. I’m going home to pack now.”
“Jesus Alex, my family. What’ll I tell Anna and the kids? I can’t leave without them.”
“That’s your decision. Your problem. I intend to go my own way. Alone.”
“I’m stunned,” Barnes said. “I can’t believe Lauren did this.”
“This is not Lauren. She would never do this on her own. Ryder’s responsible. For all of this. And I want him dead before I leave my home this evening.”
“Do you really think that’s wise?”
“What is wise no longer matters, now does it James?”
“I suppose not.”
“Find him,” Alex said. “Bring him to me. I’d prefer to see him alive. But if you find it necessary to shoot him in the process, dead will suffice.”
Jesse parked his car in the back of a convenience store two blocks from Covington’s house. He took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Covington’s number. The phone rang five times before the answering machine picked up. Jesse broke the connection.
He walked casually, careful not to draw attention to himself. The neighborhood had a deserted feel. Everyone off at their jobs or their health clubs. He ran through a neighbor’s backyard and hopped the fence, dropping onto Covington’s property. The in-ground pool had a dark green cover stretched tightly across it. He walked around the fancy tile that surrounded the pool, staying out of sight of the windows as much as possible.
Jesse was behind the garage when he spotted Covington’s Mercedes coming down the street. A moment later, the garage door eased open, then closed. A car door slammed. Then silence.
Jesse had been hoping to get in while the house was still empty so he could grab Covington’s .38. Lauren had mentioned the gun once. Covington kept it in his bedroom, in the nightstand drawer. Lauren had been afraid her father might one day use it on her mother. Today Jesse wanted to turn it against its owner.
