by Sally Mason
“Why is this guy doing this?” Donna rubs Hallie’s arm and she slowly settles down.
“It gives him a certain control over his victims and keeps them afraid of him.” Marcel makes a sharp right turn and the seatbelt cuts into me. “It’s like ‘Hey, I can torture you whenever I want’ and also implies that sooner or later, he’ll try to snatch them again.”
He hit the nail on the head—that’s exactly how I feel. It’s like I’m still trapped in my own nightmare.
“Do you really think this guy is that dangerous?” Donna asks with a frown.
“Yep, he’s a total psychopath.” Marcel honks his horn when the car in front of him doesn’t move at the light that just turned green. When he passes at high speed, he glares at the driver. “Old folks really shouldn’t be driving.” The words are mumbled to himself but still make me wonder why he is acting like a maniac all of a sudden.
He calms down a little when he gets to the highway but still keeps the speed ten miles over the limit.
“Are we in a hurry?” I ask, my hand clutched to the seatbelt.
“That was Tyrone earlier.” He glances at Hallie and Donna in the back, but they are engrossed in a hushed conversation and don’t pay attention to us. “He’s mad as hell that I keep disappearing without an explanation. The process server stopped by earlier and served the grand jury subpoena on Finn, so I have to get in touch with him for mine. Tyrone doesn’t want me to go.”
Roy said his testimony is crucial if Luke wants to get off. “You have to go. It’s my brother’s life we’re talking about.”
“I’m really sorry, Kelsey, but things are turning into a mess. I can’t risk it. When all this is over, testifying at trial is not an issue, but Tyrone will freak if I disobey him again.”
I pinch the corners of my eyes to suppress the tears. “Please, Marcel, this one last thing. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t so important.”
He grumbles something inaudible. “I’ll think about it.”
I stare outside the window with blank eyes, the thought that the grand jury could indict Luke unbearable. After that, he could actually get convicted of murder and go to prison for the rest of his life.
“Well, we can at least knock Drake and Luke off the suspect list,” Marcel remarks as he speeds up again to pass a truck. He glances at me with a grin. “That’s something less to worry about.”
I frown. “Why are you all of a sudden excluding Luke?”
“Well—” He curses when a car pulls out in front of him and he hits the brakes hard.
I’m catapulted forward, saved by the seatbelt, but Hallie yelps “Shit” from the back seat after spilling half her water bottle. Maisie howls for good measure, likely to remind us that she’s still here.
Donna glares at Marcel. “I’d appreciate if you don’t kill us. I just got my sister back and would like to keep it that way.”
“Sorry.” He slows down a little, his eyes fixed on the road. “So, like I was saying, I don’t think it’s Luke. He was arrested on the spot after Jed’s death and didn’t have time to conspire with anyone or pass along the photos to an accomplice. Inmates don’t have access to a computer at the jail, so he couldn’t have uploaded the pictures himself.”
His words make sense and make me feel a little better.
“Couldn’t someone have gotten them from Jed?” Donna asks.
“Nope.” Marcel honks his horn again when the car in front of him seems to crawl. “Jed’s computer was confiscated the night he was killed, and the police would have told you if they had found pictures like that on his hard drive. Hallie’s pictures were also just taken the night Kelsey and Hallie escaped, so the window of opportunity was as good as nonexistent. Truthfully, I think Napoleon took Hallie’s pictures without Jed’s knowledge as a trophy. Those types of mementos are private, and people usually don’t share them.”
Silence follows his words, then Donna laughs. “You know, you almost sound like a cop.”
He bites his lip before forcing a chuckle. “I guess all those private investigator classes are starting to pay off. I feel like a real detective.”
He winks at me, and I smirk, imagining Donna’s reaction if she knew that she was actually right. The two could really be good together and I ship them. Maybe when this is all over, things will work out for the best. I have no idea how this will impact Marcel’s job but can’t shake the feeling that he is growing tired of the gangster act and being undercover all the time.
My eyes stare blankly out the window, relief flooding through me that Luke has been cleared by Marcel. Ever since he was added to the suspect list, this nagging voice has been taking little stabs at me. My mind was always able to reason them away, but that didn’t alleviate my qualms. I even thought of confronting him once during a visit to the jail, but after Finn’s reaction, the fear that he could take it the wrong way glued my lips together. Losing him is an unbearable thought.
Marcel drops us off in front of the Stonehenge police station, so Hallie can file a report about the FriendBook pictures with Detective Larouge. He has managed to hold onto the case by pulling jurisdiction over Portland once the FBI departed. She is still really upset that she can’t delete them yet, but most of her friends have pledged their support and told her how appalled they are. The jealous sting burns. For once, I wish I was in her shoes, having people who really care about me. With Finn not around and Luke in jail, it can get quite lonely.
“I’ll figure something out with Luke,” Marcel promises before he speeds off.
Though this has been a productive day, I still feel rotten. Anytime I make a step forward, it seems like I’m pushed three steps back. Napoleon is winning, and in that moment, I fear that he will be the one coming out on top.
CHAPTER 30
I barely sleep the night before my grand jury testimony, my worry about Luke keeping my mind occupied. I had hoped that Roy would be there, but neither he nor Luke will be part of the procedure, which stinks. The proceedings are informal and Roy explained that it’s usually not very hard to get an indictment. Jurors only decide whether a potential crime was committed and the self-defense argument won’t come into play until the trial, which could be a year away.
The thought that Luke might have to remain in jail until then terrifies me. So far, he hasn’t missed any of his classes, but his college will start back up next week. The topic of law school has been avoided, but I overheard Roy telling my mom that Luke will have problems with his bar admission even if he wins at trial. Apparently, any arrest has to be disclosed and lowers the chances of becoming a lawyer. I feel terrible that my brother may not fulfill his lifelong dream because he saved me, and my mood has been accordingly sullen.
Roy drops me off at the courthouse. “Keep your chin up, Kelsey, and whatever you do, tell the truth. You won’t help Luke by lying.”
I grimace, not sure what I could be lying about. Luke is a hero, and the sooner people realize that, the faster we can all move on with our lives.
When I lower myself on the bench by the jury room, my fingers twist together and I realize how sweaty they are. To distract myself, I study the stucco decorations on the ceiling, checking my watch from time to time. The subpoena said my testimony is scheduled for eleven, but it is already eleven fifteen and no one has come for me yet. At eleven thirty, I’m about to complain to the clerk when a woman turns the corner and steers right toward me.
“Ms. Miller?” she asks with a polite smile.
I nod, my mouth too dry to respond.
“I’m Deborah Gibbons from the district attorney’s office. Mr. Hutchinson would like a word with you before your testimony.”
I remember Hutchinson; he was the DA who handled Jed’s case. I bawled in his office when he informed me he was dropping the charges because of the screwup with the warrant. I have held a grudge ever since. The fact that he is now prosecuting Luke makes him even less likable.
I nevertheless follow behind her as she ushers me into the annex that houses th
e district attorneys. Hutchinson’s office is on the third floor and he’s alone when I enter. I am not sure if I should talk to him without Roy and reluctantly take a seat in the visitor’s chair across his desk. Gibbons grabs a chair behind me by the wall and I feel ganged up on.
Hutchinson is ancient, pushing close to sixty. He has always reminded me of a walrus with a gray mane, though I have always wondered if the hair is real. Every word he mutters is accompanied by a low wheeze and his teeth are yellow. He either drinks loads of coffee or is a heavy smoker.
“Ms. Miller, we got some new evidence this morning that would indeed suggest that your brother was allowed to use deadly force in defending you.”
All of a sudden, I want to hug him.
“As you know, my office is not eager to proceed with this case, given Jed Edwards extensive criminal involvement in the kidnapping of you and Ms. Garvey,” he continues, which puts a stupid grin on my face. “However, he is a victim like everyone else, and I need to justify if I do not move forward on a criminal charge.”
I’m not really sure what he is getting at. “What do you want me to do?”
“Well.” He and Deborah exchange a glance. “This morning, I got a rather unexpected visit from Mr. Brown, who disclosed that he is working for the DEA.”
I swallow hard. What the hell did Marcel do? This could jeopardize his whole mission.
“I have since confirmed his assignment with his superior, and therefore, I am inclined to rely on the new evidence he presented.”
Hutchinson’s eyes drill into me and I twitch under his glare as confusion settles in. If this is the case, what does he want from me?
He takes a clear plastic bag from a drawer that contains a switchblade and places it on the desk in front of me. “This, Ms. Miller, is the new evidence. Mr. Brown said that it was Jed’s and he was just about to slit your throat when Luke shot him. That, of course, would be a clear affirmative defense to your brother’s actions. However, you previously said that Jed only choked you, so I need you to confirm Mr. Brown’s statement.”
I almost blurt out that there was no knife—I distinctly remember Jed tossing it away—but stop myself at the last second. Truthfully, I don’t remember anything about the last moments before the shot went off and Jed could have had a second knife. Yet it is odd that Marcel never mentioned it before.
“It was dark and I was about to pass out, so I couldn’t even tell you, but I’m sure that Marcel wouldn’t lie. He is a highly decorated federal agent.” I have no clue if this is true but figure that someone who works that deep undercover must have received some recognition throughout his career.
“I guess that’s good enough.” Hutchinson gives me a fake smile. “I won’t proceed with the grand jury indictment, and I will let Roy know that he can collect Luke from the jail later today. It will take a few hours to process him out.”
My jaw drops. “That’s it?”
“Yes. I think this outcome is in everybody’s best interest. Jed was a criminal and I guess he got his justice in the end. I never wanted to charge your brother in the first place, but like I said, my hands were tied.”
I’m thrilled that all my worries were for nothing. With a wide grin, I thank him and even shake his hand when I bid him goodbye. There is so much relief and all I want to do is call Marcel to tell him how grateful I am.
He doesn’t answer his phone, so I leave a message. Determined to wait for Luke to be the first to congratulate him on his release, I stop by in the new coffee shop across from the jail and get a white chocolate latte and a lemon muffin. Opening up my Kindle app, I scroll through my library until I find the book I’m reading—Ferocious by Leigh W. Stuart.
It’s about this girl who gets these warnings from her kidnapped dead friend and feels lost because everyone thinks she is crazy. I can relate—having felt similarly these past years—though luckily, no ghost has ever spoken to me. The last thing I need is for Jed to come after me from his grave. The book still disturbs me a little, unleashing painful memories, but I’m determined not to let this bother me. After a while, I almost find the read therapeutic. She fights back, just as I did in the end.
I lose track of time and the ringing phone startles me. Marcel’s number flashes on the display. Eager to talk to him, I push the connect button, but it’s Finn on the other end of the line.
“Kelsey, please don’t hang up. I have no one else to call.” He sounds frantic. “Marcel got beaten and is really hurt.”
I gasp, feeling like I just collided head on with a truck. “What happened?” Crazy things shoot through my head. Tyrone probably found out who he is working for and is out to kill him.
“Tyrone sent a few men after Marcel to teach him not to disobey his orders again. He disappeared a few hours this morning and missed a delivery, so Tyrone was really pissed.” A sob drifts through the receiver. “Kelsey, they cut off his ear.”
My stomach turns at the news. “Did you take him to the hospital?” My breath is heavy, and I can hardly think straight.
Finn snuffles, his voice almost incomprehensible. “He refuses to go. There’s so much blood and I don’t know what to do.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting off the panic. “Where are you?”
“In a warehouse down by the docks on Commercial Street. I can ask Marcel for the exact address.”
My eyes scan the road for a cab. “I’ll be there in less than an hour. Text me the address.” Luckily, my mom gave me a prepaid credit card for Christmas, which has $500 on it. That should be plenty.
When I slide into the backseat of the taxi, my eyes fall on the front door of the jail where Roy is just about to enter. Luke will be fine without me—getting Marcel help is more important. He risked everything for me and now it’s time to repay him.
~~~~
He is in a worse state than expected, and I almost run out of the warehouse screaming when I see the puddle of blood around him. He’s huddled on the floor with his back against the wall, a soaked towel pressed to the side of his head. Even though his eyes are closed and he’s controlling his breathing, I can tell he is in a lot of pain.
His face is bruised with several cuts, his shirt torn. They really didn’t spare any part of him. Tyrone wanted the message delivered and his men beat the crap out of their leader. Marcel never had a chance.
I crouch next to him on the ground. “Hey, can you get up?”
He groans. “I can’t go to the hospital. Tyrone will kill me.”
“I know.” I rub his shoulder to comfort him, but when he flinches, my hand flies back. “We have to get you some medical attention. You’re losing too much blood.” Out of the corner of my eyes, I glance at Finn, who is leaning against the wall a few feet away before dropping my voice to a mere whisper. “What about the DEA? Maybe they can keep it under wraps?”
“That’s against protocol and they will pull me off the case.” His lips are barely moving before they contort to a painful grimace. He hisses, his head falling backward against the wall.
Tears fill my eyes when I realize how much he is suffering. I gaze at Finn again, who is paler than a ghost.
“Maybe we can take him home,” he suggests.
“No.” The anger roars inside me—I will not give Tyrone the satisfaction of seeing Marcel like this. My mind races through my options. I can’t take him to Stonehenge since Roy will call the cops and I don’t know anyone who is a doctor.
And then it hits me—Donna. She is an ER nurse and must be able to bandage him up.
“Where’s your truck?” I ask Finn.
“Up the road.”
“Get it.” I focus on Marcel. “Do you think you can make it to the truck?”
He finally opens his eyes, which are almost swollen shut. “Where are we going?”
“Donna’s.”
He groans again, this time more out of desperation. “She’ll be so mad.”
“Well, it’s either her or Tyrone. Take your pick.”
My arm slides
around his waist when he tries to stand, and he yelps in pain. With unsteady feet, he stumbles forward and every so often, we take a break. His face is twisted in agony and a few times his knees almost buckle. Blood drips from the towel to the floor, leaving a little red trail behind us.
Finn reappears and takes over. “Get in the truck. I got him.”
He manages to heave Marcel into the passenger seat and I slide into the back. As soon as the engine starts, I text my mom to let her know I’m okay. I will still be in trouble for just disappearing without checking in with her first, but if I tell her it was an emergency with Marcel, she’ll get over it.
It’s not far to Donna’s house; I just pray she is home. A sigh of relief rolls over my lips when she opens the door.
All color leaves her face. “Oh my god!” She stares at Marcel with wide eyes. “What the hell happened to you?”
Marcel tries to produce a faint smile but fails when a moan shakes his body. “I had a little disagreement with my boss. No biggie.”
I could have slapped him for trying to pull this macho act.
Donna frowns before taking over. “Get him into the kitchen.”
With Finn’s aid, Marcel climbs onto a barstool. Donna puts on the kettle and disappears, returning with a stack of towels. Hallie is right behind her, hopping in on her crutches.
“What’s going on?” Her hair is sticking up and her voice is hoarse; she must have just woken up.
“What does it look like?” Donna growls. “Your friend’s work finally caught up with him.”
I grimace. Though we have never talked specifics about Marcel’s job situation, her suspicion that he is involved in gang activities always hung in the air like a dark cloud whenever he was around. I hate that this incident proves her right, even though the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.
