“Lisa and Jerry were joined at the hip. At first, Albert and I thought that it was puppy love and it would pass. We thought about trying to put a stop to their relationship, but knowing Lisa, that would only have made her more determined.”
“What was it about Jerry that you didn’t like?”
Mary inclined her head, considering the questions.
“We didn’t object to him. Not really. Not at first anyway. It was how serious the relationship seemed. Lisa was so young. They both were. We didn’t want her to get off track, you know?”
“But there was something about Jerry,” Luka pressed.
She nodded wearily. Her eyes shifted from Alex to Luka.
“He was possessive. She started to shut out her other friends. Pretty soon, he was the only one she spent time with. We didn’t think it was healthy. After we aired our concerns to Lisa, Jerry refused to come to our house. It made things worse.”
“How did Lisa take the news of moving?”
“Like any teenager in love would. But we didn’t give her a choice.” Mary’s wistful expression told Alex just how painful talking about Lisa was.
“And Jerry?”
“Jerry became—what’s the word for it?—unhinged.” Mary shifted forward in her chair, her back ramrod straight. She brushed the rim of the coffee cup against her lips before setting it back on the table. “You see, Lisa was pregnant.”
Luka set his coffee cup down with an audible thump. Alex’s gut constricted.
“Jerry knew about the baby?”
Mary’s lips parted in a dry smile, almost a grimace, as she continued.
“He wanted Lisa to run away with him. They cooked up some crazy scheme about getting married and raising the baby together. They were just kids. It wouldn’t have worked, and Lisa would have been ruined, with no college education, no hope for a better life.”
“So you moved?
Mary hesitated. Drawing in a deep breath, she expelled it from her lungs in a slow hiss. Finally she nodded.
“Yes. And then Lisa had an abortion.”
Silence pooled in the kitchen.
“And after that?”
Mary sipped her coffee. Her voice was thick with emotion when she finally spoke. Her shoulders hitched in the smallest of shrugs.
“Well, Lisa was never the same. Oh, she went to college, she studied hard, got good grades. But it was like there was something missing. Lisa lost her spark. Albert thought she just needed time, but she never got it. In her senior year of college, she was riding back to her apartment after work on her bike and was hit by a car. The car didn’t stop. She was left bleeding by the side of the road. We didn’t make it to the hospital in time to say good-bye. Lisa died on the operating table, alone.”
Tears pooled in Mary’s blue eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Clearing her throat, she took another sip of coffee.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said.
The pain reflected in Mary’s blue eyes reminded him of the grief on Joyce Watson’s face. He waited until Mary composed herself before asking his final question. “Was there anything different about Lisa before she died?”
“Different? How?”
Alex held her steady gaze, and kept his tone deliberately soft. This next part was going to be hard for Mary to hear. After many years, she had finally come to grips with the loss of her daughter. He didn’t want to rip open old wounds. But he had no choice. He had to know.
“Jerry Honeywell got his mechanic’s license in California. He was living in the Bay Area at the time of your daughter’s death.”
Alex could hear a sharp intake of breath as she processed his words. She cast a stony stare into her coffee cup, her fingers clutching it tightly. He could only imagine what thoughts were running through her head.
“You think …”
“It may mean nothing,” Alex offered.
“It may mean everything,” she answered, meeting his eyes at last.
As Alex and Luka made their way back to the car, Alex pondered the similarities between the story of Honeywell’s parents and his painful past with Lisa. For a moment, he put himself in Jerry’s shoes: a pregnant girlfriend with disapproving parents, and an aborted child. In the intervening years between Lisa leaving Winthrop and his move to California, how much had Honeywell learned to hate? Had he come here looking for Lisa? If so, what had he hoped for? Reconciliation? Or revenge?
“There are no eyewitnesses,” Alex said, looking up from the report and over at Luka. “The police didn’t have much to go on. There were no traffic cameras in the area back then. Another motorist saw Lisa on the side of the road and called it in.”
Alex pulled up a chair at the end of Luka’s desk and was reviewing the report on Lisa’s accident. He reached for the bag of pastries as his cell phone rang. The call display showed a local California number. Alex stiffened and then hit the Talk button.
“Dude, I told you not to talk to the guy.”
Alex’s eyes fluttered shut for a second as he recognized the voice of Agent Jacob Wilde from the ATF on the other end of the phone.
“It didn’t go exactly as planned.”
“That’s the fucking understatement of the year. Your boy’s hit the highway.”
“What?”
Bitter disappointment descended on Alex like a lead weight. He rubbed a hand across his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s right. After they left the bar, Honeywell packed up his shit and struck out for parts unknown. I thought you’d want to know.”
“And you just let him go?”
“You heard Stone. He’s not a target.”
“Fuck,” Alex growled, his headache reasserting itself. Exhaustion set in.
“No shit, Batman. Anyway, if I were you, I would hightail it out of town before your little stunt gets reported to Stone. He’s going to go ballistic when he hears you disobeyed his direct orders.”
“I’m not worried about him.”
“You should be. He may be a douche bag, but don’t underestimate his political clout.”
Alex slammed the phone down on Luka’s desk.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What is it?” Luka asked.
“Honeywell’s taken off. He left last night after the scene at the bar.”
Luka pushed back his chair and swore.
“Perfect. He’s got a twelve-hour head start.”
“We don’t even know where he’s going.”
“I wonder if we could get some information on the vehicle he left in.”
“That was Wilde. The ATF isn’t going to help us.”
Alex sighed as he considered the disastrous turn of events. He’d fucked up. It was his fault Honeywell had slipped through their fingers. What would he tell Abby?
How long could Honeywell hide?
“What’s done is done.” Luka’s shrug was philosophical. “I think we should continue to dig into the hit-and-run. Maybe we can find evidence linking him to Lisa’s death and Kayla Miller’s disappearance.”
“What good does it do us if we can’t find Honeywell?”
Alex released a long, slow sigh.
At three in the afternoon, his cell phone rang again. This time he did recognize the number.
It was his boss, Captain Lewis. And Alex definitely did not want to take the call.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jill missed Alex. In the aftermath of Jamie’s death and the dissolution of the affair, it was as if the scales had fallen from her eyes. If any anger remained, it was hers alone, she realized as she considered what she had risked for Jamie and what she would have lost in Alex. Vanity. The affair had been borne of vanity, and she vowed not to risk what she had so unwisely again.
Their planes could have crossed in the air as Alex flew back to Seattle and hers landed in San Francisco. It seemed unfair that they couldn’t overlap by at least a night. With Jamie out of the way, their relationship was back on track. Clean. Simple. Just the way she liked it.
Now as she stood cent
er stage in front of hundreds of people, basking in their thunderous applause, she decided life didn’t get much better than this. As one of the featured speakers for the WebNOW conference, she had just given her third demo. The first two were standing room only, and the conference organizers had quickly added a third. She would bet anything that ZyraNet’s stock had risen over the past few hours.
With a gracious nod, Jill surrendered the floor to the moderator of the panel. She threaded her way through the crowded conference center to the bar. She’d been guzzling water all day to help keep her voice in prime condition, and now she was ready to celebrate with something a little stronger.
“Dirty martini with three olives, please,” she said as she caught the bartender’s eye.
With a quick nod, he set to work on her drink, and Jill smoothed her long hair away from her face. Public speaking was a rush. Engineering was a solitary job that typically attracted introverts. Unlike most of her counterparts, she reveled in the opportunity to show off her work. The response to her demo was beyond gratifying. This kind of public recognition was like a drug, and she wanted more.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, bringing her back to earth.
Angling her body toward the bar, she slowly stirred the olives around the glass and savored the high. Glancing up into the mirror behind the bar, she took a sip of her martini.
“Jill Shannon?” a voice sounded beside her. It was more of a statement than a question, and she swung her gaze to the man facing her. He extended his hand. “I’m Peter Young, columnist for Tech Savvy magazine. I caught your demo. Pretty impressive stuff.”
“Thanks,” she said, shaking his hand, voice raised to be heard above the din.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Got one already, and by the way, they’re free.” She inclined her head toward him, as if imparting a secret.
“Guess that makes you a cheap date,” he said, with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Cheap, but not easy.” She found his slightly rumpled, boyish appearance appealing. His hair was medium length, angling in toward his face in a shaggy cut that mimicked the hip crowd of the day. The style was a little young for him, but he managed to pull it off. His hazel eyes sparkled with humor. With a leather satchel slung across his body, and a rumpled button-down shirt, he looked every bit the part of the reporter.
Signaling the bartender, he ordered a beer before looking back at Jill.
“I do profile pieces for the magazine, and I’m thinking that you would make a terrific piece.”
The provocative phrase dripped with innuendo. But instead of being offended, Jill smiled, enjoying the banter.
“What would be involved?”
“I’d like to interview you. A stunning, intelligent woman would be a nice change of pace from the balding, geeky types I usually get stuck with.” He paused, taking a sip from his beer bottle. His intense gaze was locked on her face, and she felt her cheeks warm under his careful examination. “What do you say?”
His smile was contagious, and she considered his offer for roughly two seconds. Just enough time to make up her mind.
“It’s a deal.”
“Cool.” He clinked his beer bottle against her glass and tipped a salute. “Let’s finish our drinks and get out of here.”
Jill stiffened, placing her glass back on the bar, as she eyed him warily.
“Go where?”
“Somewhere quieter. It’s too loud in here,” he explained, his smile almost apologetic. “Besides, I’ll want to take some pictures of you for the piece.”
He had a point. The crowd noise buzzing around them was overwhelming. The high ceilings of the cavernous room made the situation worse, and they were on the verge of yelling to be heard. The strain from all of the talking she’d done over the past few days had left her voice hoarse.
“Look, I know how this sounds, but the magazine set me up with a suite. It’s at the Hilton, just a hop, skip, and a jump through the skywalk. No funny business. I promise.”
“Scout’s honor?” Jill managed to suppress her grin but couldn’t keep the playful edge from her voice.
“Scout’s honor,” Young said, flashing the three-fingered boy scout salute.
Jill took a long moment to consider the offer. Being featured in Tech Savvy would be quite a boon for her career. The publicity wouldn’t hurt the company, either. Draining the martini from the glass, she ate the olives one at a time.
“You’re on.”
“You ready?” Peter asked, not quite meeting her eyes.
“Sure, let’s go.”
The crowd thinned as they left the main conference area and traversed the skyway to the Hilton hotel. Even though she was in high heels, her long strides kept pace easily with his. They traded small talk about themselves. How long had he been at the magazine? What had he done before that? How long had she been at ZyraNet? The friendly chatter put her at ease as she followed him to his suite.
Peter swiped his access card, and Jill heard the weighty click of the door mechanism unlocking. She half smiled as she followed him inside.
The suite was open and airy. The furnishings were tasteful, and the coffee-cream-colored walls made the room seem larger than it was. The faint smell of lemon furniture polish hung in the air—compliments of the cleaning crew, no doubt. Peter removed his satchel and tossed it on the couch as he crossed the room, heading toward the minibar.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
“Got any wine in there?”
Opening the door to the small refrigerator, he rummaged around. She could hear the clinking of bottles as he took inventory. “Bubbles or no?”
“No bubbles.”
Peter pulled out a small bottle and twisted the cap off. With his back turned toward her, she couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice as he poured the wine into the glass.
“I can’t vouch for the vintage …”
“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him. She settled into a white armchair at the end of the long coffee table and waited. He fixed himself a drink and sat on the couch. Pulling his laptop out of his bag, he placed it on the coffee table and waited for it to boot up.
“Have you ever been interviewed before?” There was a warm curiosity in his eyes as he smiled at her. She tried to guess his age. Early thirties maybe?
“Once in college. I was on the track team and broke some state records.”
“Impressive. Still run?”
“As often as I can.”
“I’m more of a team-sports guy myself,” he said, his eyes remaining riveted on the monitor. “Would you mind if I captured the interview on the webcam? I may want to upload parts of it to the magazine’s website as a teaser when the piece is in print.”
Again with the disarming smile, Jill thought as Peter’s lips parted, revealing a row of even white teeth. Somewhere an orthodontist had built a swimming pool in exchange for that perfect smile. Jill shifted in her chair, taking a sip from her wineglass. Liquid courage to settle her nerves? The wine burned its way down her throat, and she set her glass on the table, out of the range of the webcam.
“Okay,” she said.
“Great, let’s get started.”
Peter asked background questions at first, about her education, her career path. Jill felt herself relax as she answered. She rested her back against the pillow, hands smoothing her skirt over her bare knees.
The next round of questions centered on the new technology that Jill had demoed. How long had it been under development? When was it due to release? What was Jill’s role on the team? Jill found herself smiling and leaning in toward him as she answered. A gentle warmth spread through her. Was it the wine or being in the spotlight that contributed to the glow?
Peter wrapped up the interview with a barrage of questions about what it was like to be a female at the top of her game in a male-dominated industry. She laughed as she answered, revealing that she had never found her gend
er to be a drawback. Her work spoke for itself, and she was considered one of the sharpest engineers on the team, earning her respect the old-fashioned way. Sure, it sounded a little like bragging, but what the hell. She was damned good.
“You know, I interviewed a colleague of yours.”
“Oh yeah? Who?” she asked, meeting his glance.
“Jamie King, last year. He won the Millennium Technology Award, right?”
“He did.” Jill’s lips twisted into a frown as her thoughts turned to Jamie and his broken body in the snow.
“Kind of full of himself. Still, it’s a shame what happened to him.” Peter paused, and she could feel his eyes on her. “What was that?”
“What?” she asked, pressing her lips together and focusing on his face. He studied her intently.
“That look?”
“Nothing. Really.” She forced a laugh and averted her gaze. “Is that it? Are we finished?” she asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She raised a hand to the collar of her blouse and tugged it away from her skin. Was the air conditioner on the fritz? The room felt too warm, and her cheeks burned. Picking up her wineglass, she took another sip. The cool liquid felt silky on her tongue.
“Almost. All I need is a few stills and we’re done,” Peter said as he rose from the couch. Jill set the glass down on the table and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Her mind felt a little fuzzy around the edges. Perhaps she had drained the martini at the bar too quickly. The wine definitely wasn’t helping, and she hadn’t eaten since lunch. Given that the sky was now dark, city lights twinkling through the window, it must be getting late. Too much to drink on an empty stomach was unwise, she mused.
Moments later Peter returned with Nikon in hand. She sat straighter and peered into the camera lens, forcing a smile. The flutter of the lens sounded as he cranked off some shots.
“Come on. You can do better than that,” he said. One eye peeked out from above the camera, and she could hear his smile.
Jill tried to relax and smiled again, this time wider. But there was something wrong. She felt dizzy. Peter moved closer, his fingers working the lens, bringing her into focus as he squeezed off a few close-ups.
Deadly Lies Page 17
