by Katie Ruggle
She wondered if there was already an ongoing investigation into Martin’s activities. Kaylee hoped so. It would take some of the focus off her. She wouldn’t have to be the main witness, the only source of information…Martin’s main target. The thought of Jovanovic coming after her, seeking revenge and her silence, made her have to bite her lip to hold back a frightened sound. The tiny room felt claustrophobic, and Kaylee couldn’t sit still anymore.
She shot to her feet just as the door opened and a uniformed cop entered. A little bit of tension left her body now that someone was in the room with her. Kaylee didn’t think she could’ve taken waiting alone for much longer. The officer was young and very tall, with shorn, light-brown hair and an attempted mustache. His gaze fixed on her for a long moment before he looked over his shoulder.
Kaylee’s skin prickled with heat before flashing cold, her initial relief overtaken by alarm. There was something wrong. Maybe she was basing her cop knowledge on too many TV shows, but Kaylee was pretty sure that a detective wouldn’t be wearing a uniform. There was also a tenseness in the officer’s posture, in the way he glanced behind him as if checking to make sure no one else was around. Her brain spun as she tried to think clearly, tried to figure out what she was going to do. All her instincts were screaming Danger!
He refocused on her, his light-blue eyes cold and strangely familiar. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” she asked, even as she reluctantly moved toward him. Although she wasn’t sure what she was going to do, Kaylee knew she couldn’t accomplish anything in this small room. With the creepy cop blocking the door, she couldn’t escape it, either.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, allowing her to leave the room. As she passed close to him, her gaze dropped to the gold name tag pinned to his starched uniform shirt pocket.
L. Jovanovic.
Numb, Kaylee walked down the narrow hallway, followed closely by Martin’s…what? Nephew? Son? Much younger brother? His hand latched around her upper arm, exactly where Martin had grabbed her earlier, and she flinched. Her breath wanted to come quickly, but she couldn’t show her fear. Her lungs burned as she forced each inhale to slow, each exhale to come out silently, rather than in a terrified sob.
Right before they reached the end of the corridor, the cop steered her toward a door marked Stairs. Just as she’d known she wouldn’t survive if she’d gone back into Martin’s mansion, Kaylee knew, deep in her gut, not to enter the stairway with L. Jovanovic.
Forcing herself to stay outwardly relaxed, to stay compliant and pliable under his hold, Kaylee stepped toward the door, her hands reaching for the release bar. Before she pressed it, though, she wrenched free of his grip and sprinted for the next hallway. She needed to find other people, other cops. L. Jovanovic had taken her out of the room where she’d been trapped like a mouse in a tiny box. He was steering her away from cameras, away from somewhere they could be seen. He wanted to get her alone to do whatever he was planning, and Kaylee knew her survival depended on preventing that.
When she pulled away, he didn’t shout, didn’t call out after her, reinforcing her suspicion that he was trying to avoid drawing attention. The silence doubled her fear. She expected him to grab her hair or the back of her dress at any second. Dragging in ragged breaths, she ran faster.
At the intersecting corridor, she turned left without looking, tearing down the hall. She fought the urge to glance behind her, knowing it would only slow her down, make her stumble, allow him to catch her. Instead, she sprinted down the quiet hallway, desperately wishing for someone—anyone—to step into view.
As if she’d summoned them, two uniformed cops rounded the corner. Kaylee tried to stop, but her momentum carried her forward. She would’ve crashed into one of the officers if he hadn’t caught her by the shoulders.
“Whoa,” he said, steadying her. “What’s your rush?”
With the two other cops there, she risked a glance behind her and caught a glimpse of Jovanovic as he ducked back into the hallway she’d just escaped. Turning to the officers, she took a breath, ready to blurt out the entire story.
Before she could, the tortured man’s words came back to her, and her mouth snapped shut. What if they didn’t believe her? After all, they worked with Officer Jovanovic—maybe even were friends with him. Worse yet, what if Martin had them in his back pocket? Although the station was huge, employing hundreds of officers, it would be just her luck that these two cops were ones on the Jovanovic payroll.
“Sorry,” she said, stalling for time. “I didn’t see you there.”
“No problem. I’m used to beautiful women throwing themselves at me.” The other cop snorted, but the one holding her shoulders ignored the skeptical sound. “Were you here visiting someone?”
Kaylee seized on the excuse with both hands. “Yes! Um…I mean, yes. My boyfriend. But we started arguing, and…” Trailing off, she shrugged, and the cops exchanged a look. Sweat prickled along her hairline. It sounded so weak, but the fake explanation had worked on the valet, and her brain was too scattered to come up with a better story.
Even though she’d scrubbed her hands in the bathroom until they were raw, and the sweatshirt covered most of her bloodstained dress, she felt like everything she’d seen, everything she’d experienced, was written on her forehead. The cops would never believe her. They’d march her back to that tiny interrogation room and leave her there, vulnerable. If that happened, she was dead. Literally.
“Jovanovic?” one of them asked, and her whole body jerked with shock. He knew! Her body went hot and then cold, and her mind filled with panicked escape plans before all thought was overwhelmed with the need to run. “He’s the boyfriend? No loss there. Pretty girl like you can do better than Logan.” The two cops exchanged another glance.
“Anyone would be better than Jovanovic,” the other one muttered.
The pounding of her heart slowed as their words registered, and she sucked in an audible breath, relief slamming into her. They didn’t know. They’d seen Logan Jovanovic darting away, so they assumed he was her boyfriend. The cops were eyeing her curiously. Shaking off the remaining blanket of terror, she tried to piece together a sentence that made sense.
“I know.” Her voice still shook. “I’m learning he’s not the Disney prince I thought he was.”
One of the cops turned away, obviously hiding a laugh in a cough, while the other fought a smile. Giving her shoulders a squeeze, he dropped his hands. “You’re right about that. Logan’s definitely not any kind of prince. Want us to walk you out?”
“Sure.” Kaylee couldn’t quite manage a smile. She was close, so close, to escape that it almost made everything more terrifying. “That would be great. Thank you.”
The two cops fell in next to her as they walked through the maze of hallways. Although it was late, they passed quite a few people, both in uniform and street clothes. Kaylee was even more grateful for her escort; she would’ve never found her way out of the sprawling station otherwise.
“So, you’re definitely dumping Logan, then?” one of her chaperones asked.
“Oh yes.” An image of Noah flashed through her mind, but it was quickly replaced by the mental picture of the tortured men. “We’re done.”
The cop patted her shoulder blade. “Smart.”
Kaylee didn’t feel smart. She felt anxious and scared out of her mind and hunted. Everything she’d done so far had been based in stupid panic. She’d have to start thinking three steps ahead, or Martin Jovanovic was going to find her.
She needed to start being smart. Otherwise, she was dead.
The cops ushered her to the lobby, and she walked through it with purpose, pretending like she wasn’t fighting the urge to hide behind the artificial ficus plant in the corner. As soon as she pushed through the doors, though, she darted for the closest patch of shadows. The parking area was well lit, the sodium bulbs spotlightin
g the few cars, including hers, scattered around the lot.
Martin would know what she drove. Logan Jovanovic would be able to pull up her license and registration, so they’d get her plate number and her vehicle description and her address. Logan could probably even put a BOLO out on her, could say anything—that she was wanted for questioning, that she had mental issues, that she was a danger to herself and others—to make it so that any cop in the city could pull her over and bring her to the station for questioning…to be served up on a platter to men who wanted her dead.
As she wiped clammy palms down the sides of her borrowed sweatshirt, Kaylee tried to think. She couldn’t go home, and she couldn’t stay in her car—at least not in the city, and maybe not even the county. How far did Martin’s influence stretch? The tortured man had said that he had a wide reach. Did that mean she wouldn’t be safe anywhere?
Her breaths were short, with an audible gasp at the end of each, and she clamped her jaw, trying to quiet them. A car turned into the lot, its headlights traveling across the building in a slow sweep. Kaylee froze, closing her eyes in an automatic, silly attempt to turn herself invisible.
Panic built in her chest until it was almost painful, pushing at her ribs and screaming at her to run. Her nails dug into her palms as she fisted her hands at her sides. Her eyelids stayed dark, though. When she forced her eyes to open, she saw the car had parked, and someone climbed out of the driver’s side.
Kaylee watched as the woman strode toward a side door and used a key card to let herself in. Only when the door closed with a thud did Kaylee drag in a deep breath, her lungs aching.
She couldn’t stay there. Someone would see her, and then the questions would start. Casting a frantic look around, she hurried along the front of the building, staying in the sparse shadows but still feeling horribly exposed the entire time. The sounds of not-too-distant traffic scraped against her raw nerves. She was used to the city, to the constant noise and movement, but now every sound made her flinch. She knew Martin Jovanovic was already searching for her. It was just a matter of time before he caught her.
Ducking around the corner of the building, she smelled the dumpster before she saw it. Her initial instinct was to move away from the cloying stench of rotting garbage, but she forced herself to slip into the darkness behind the trash bin instead. Kaylee crouched in the shadows, feeling incredibly exposed despite the hulking dumpster in front of her. Fumbling in her purse, she pulled out her cell. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took a few tries before she could tap the right name on her screen.
“Kaylee?” Penny’s voice was rough with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
It was so hard to say anything after what she’d been through.
“Kaylee?” The rising worry in Penny’s tone helped Kaylee push out the words.
“I’m in trouble,” she blurted out, her voice sounding too loud. “I can’t come home.”
“Do you need a ride?” All sleepiness was out of Penny’s voice now, and she sounded like she was in the problem-solving mode she used for her job at the women’s shelter. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”
“You can’t.” Her voice broke, and the second word came out soundless. Clearing her throat, Kaylee tried again. “You can’t. I can’t go home.”
“What do you mean?” Under the practical snap was a thread of worry. “Of course you can come home. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll pick you up.”
The thought of Martin or Logan or any of the Jovanovic army spotting Penny helping her sent a fresh surge of panic through Kaylee, and her knees almost buckled. “No! No, Penny. He knows where I live. If he doesn’t now, he will soon. Mom is gone, and I don’t have any other family, so you’re the only one he can use to get to me. Noah might tell him that, not knowing… You need to leave. Go see your mom in Texas, or stay at work for a few days—will they let you do that?”
“Kaylee. You’re scaring me.”
The hitch in Kaylee’s breathing was back, but her mention of Penny’s work sparked an idea. “What would you tell one of your clients if she said she needed to disappear?”
“Oh God, Kaylee…” Penny groaned, fear leaking into her voice. “How bad is it?”
“Bad. What would you tell her? You have to know a way out.” Now that a slight hope had risen, Kaylee was almost frantic to hear Penny’s answer. There had to be a solution. Kaylee couldn’t accept that they’d find her and kill her. Penny would have a way to run, to hide. “Please, Penny? What would you tell her?”
“Does she have money? Any resources?”
“I can get it.” Kaylee fingered the diamond pendant lying cool at her throat, grateful that she’d worn the entire set—necklace, ring, and earrings. Her car, too… Now that the Jovanovics were looking for it, it was useless to her.
There was a tiny pause, but it felt like hours passed before Penny spoke again. “I’d tell her to call Mateo Espina.”
“Mateo Espina?” Repeating the name, Kaylee felt a tiny tendril of hope worm its way through the terror that swamped her. “He can make me disappear?”
“He’s good.” Although Penny sounded stoic, Kaylee could hear the faint tremble in her friend’s words, and that shake made tears flood her eyes. She blinked them back. It wasn’t the time to cry, even if she was terrified and hiding behind a police station dumpster in a bloodstained dress. “The best disappearance expert that I know.”
“Do you know a lot?”
“Just Mr. Espina.”
“That’s comforting, then.”
At Penny’s choked laugh, Kaylee really wanted to cry again. That short bit of banter made her painfully aware how much she was going to miss her friend. Squeezing her eyes closed, she fought against the need to curl up in a ball and sob her eyes out—either that, or ask Penny to pick her up so Kaylee could hide out in her condo and pretend the hellish night had never happened.
Sucking in a slow breath, she opened her eyes again. She couldn’t do that to Penny. Her friend was in enough danger as it was. No matter how much it sucked, Kaylee needed to act like a responsible adult and take care of herself. She had to be brave and strong and smart. If she wanted to live, she needed to push past the paralyzing fear and save her own ass.
“What’s this magician’s number?”
Chapter 3
“No.”
Hugh didn’t think he’d ever seen Blessard so angry, not even when he’d discovered the Tight-Buns Tommy blow-up doll dressed in his uniform sitting at his desk. “But, LT, the Rack and Ruin MC will be passing through town in less than an hour. No question they’ll be hauling coke from Denver to Dresden.”
“I know this,” Blessard snapped. “The question is, how do you know this? You’re on mandatory medical leave. You have a goddamned bullet hole in your goddamned leg. Your radio is locked in my desk. Want to tell me, Murdoch, how you still know every word that comes out of the dispatchers’ mouths?”
“Guess I just have a sixth sense for when I’m needed?” From the way Blessard’s face went from dark red to purple, Hugh figured that the lieutenant didn’t care for his answer. “Forget how I heard about it. The R and Rs are going to have twenty or so riders, plus support vehicles. Lexi’s our only narcotic-detection dog, and there’s not enough time to borrow a K9 from Denver. Even if they left now, they couldn’t get here in less than an hour. Let us help, LT. My leg’s fine. It’s a waste having us sit at home, watching daytime television. Besides, there are only so many episodes of Tattered Hearts that I can stand without losing my mind.”
His lieutenant’s face showed no sympathy. “If you show up on scene, Officer Murdoch, I will arrest you.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “And your little dog, too.”
“Really, LT?” Frustration nipped at Hugh, making it hard to stay silent, even though he knew he’d lost the battle already. “Wizard of Oz jokes? Way to add insult to injury.”
Al
l hints of humor disappeared from Blessard’s face. “Do not go to this call, Officer. You have three more weeks before we’ll even consider letting you return to desk duty, and that’s with a doctor’s okay. Until then, if you even think about popping up at another call uninvited, I’m going to add another mandatory month to your leave. Got it?”
Blowing out a hard breath, Hugh resisted the urge to continue arguing. It was done. If he kept pushing, he knew he’d risk not only missing the next seven weeks of calls, but his job with the Monroe Police Department. “Fine.”
“Now get out of my office.”
As he drove away from the station, Hugh glanced at Lexi, who was riding shotgun. “Where are we headed? Home?” He grimaced at the idea. “Nah. I’d just pace and then bitch because my leg is sore. Besides, Tattered Hearts is a rerun today.” Lexi turned her head, her attention caught by something in the VFW’s parking lot. “Good idea, Lex. Let’s go bug Jules. If she’s not working today, we’ll just get food. It’ll be a win-win.”
He parked in front of the VFW and turned off the engine. Silence settled over the lot. The back of his neck prickled, and Hugh rubbed it, fighting the urge to turn and look out the back window of his pickup. He knew what he’d see if he did—absolutely nothing. Apparently, a side effect of getting shot in the leg was paranoia.
In the seat next to him, Lexi growled.
“Seriously? Are we having a mutual psychotic break, then?” he grumbled, although he followed his K9 partner’s gaze across the VFW parking lot and saw exactly what he expected: nothing. Rolling down his window, he listened. The street was as still and quiet as it always was so early in the morning. All he could hear out his open window was the first twittering of dawn birdsong and the howling, ever-present wind.
