Watching You

by Leslie A. Kelly

  “He’s in the Seventy-Seventh. Can you give him a call him and tell him what’s going on? I’d like him to look at this.”

  “Uh, the Seventy-Seventh is…”

  Reece didn’t want to hear about precincts and jurisdictions. “Just call him. Please.”

  “Okay. But, uh, I think one of our guys is gonna want to talk to you, too.”

  “I’ll be at the hospital. He can find me there.”

  The young cop looked like he was about to protest. Reece ignored him, bending over to whisper to Jessica. “We’re about to go outside. Stay strong, Jess. It’ll be over in a minute.”

  Pinkish tears had been coming out of her red eyes since the moment he’d found her. But she blinked rapidly, as if fearing things were about to get worse.

  He gripped her hand. “I’ve got you.”

  “Can you…pull the sheet over my head?”

  Juan was pushing the gurney, someone else pulling it. But Zack, who walked by her side, ready to provide emergency services the moment they became necessary, heard her and promised, “Nobody’s gonna bother you, miss.” Looking around, he barked, “Form a wall!”

  Three cops jogged over, taking up positions on either side of the gurney. Realizing they were providing a barrier to prevent anyone from getting close to Jessica, physically or with their cameras, he nodded his thanks. He took the fourth spot, by Jessica’s right hip, and put a hand on her arm. Only a photographer on top of a van or a building could have gotten a clear shot at her.

  When they reached the hospital, Jessica was taken for tests, including X-rays of her lungs. Reece was left alone in a waiting room making calls. After reaching her sister, the second call was to a doctor friend. He knew he was waking Jamal up in the middle of the night, but he needed somebody to talk him down off the ledge. Since reconnecting as young men, they’d remained in touch, and Reece considered him a real friend.

  Jamal said words like chemical pneumonia, chest pain, delirium, and neurological damage.

  Reece lost his shit.

  After his friend gave him the names of the top doctors in Los Angeles, Reece started making demands. Sometimes it was good to have name recognition, especially when you wanted to get an internationally renowned internist from Cedars-Sinai out of bed in the middle of the night.

  “What happened?” Liza burst into the room, a petite tornado wearing sweatpants, a long sleep shirt with a teddy bear on the front, and flip-flops. With wild hair and wilder eyes, she looked like she’d jumped out of bed and raced to the hospital ten seconds after Reece’s call.

  He didn’t blame her one bit.

  “Where’s my sister?”

  He quickly explained, not sparing any details. Reece had played this scene; he knew it by heart. When a sibling was hurt or in trouble, desperation and anguish replaced thought and rationality. So going over everything, step by step, was a way of keeping Liza focused and calm.

  His technique wasn’t entirely successful, however. When he told her about Jessica asking if her head could be covered by a sheet to avoid the photographers, Liza burst into tears. They streamed in rivulets down her cheeks; she didn’t even try to wipe them off, instead putting her face in her hands and weeping quietly for a solid minute.

  Eventually, not even looking up, she mumbled, “So you’re saying somebody intentionally trapped her?”

  He thought of the rope around the door handles. Jessica clutching a goddamn toilet. The red skin, the sopping clothes, the hoarse voice, and the confusion in her watering eyes.

  You called me Jess.

  “Yes.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned forward, as if feeling sick, or in pain. Probably both. “Where is she now? Can I see her?”

  He rubbed a weary hand over his face, wanting the doctors to hurry up and let him know how she was. The waiting was driving him crazy, and he knew it would do the same to her sister. “They’re checking her out to see if the vapors caused any internal damage.”

  More tears. “Oh, Jess, baby. Why? How can this be happening?”

  “I shouldn’t have let her go anywhere alone.” Never had he said truer words.

  Her head snapped up. “No, you shouldn’t have. She should never have gone out with you tonight in the first place. Why does she keep getting hurt around you? Who, exactly, have you pissed off, Mr. Winchester?”

  Reece didn’t reply, knowing he probably deserved the accusation. This attack, like the first, had surely been directed at him. He’d wondered at first why someone with a grudge against him would go after Jessica, and came up with one possible reason. Maybe an enemy of his had realized he was involved with her—he was already falling for her like he’d never fallen for anyone—and wanted to punish him by hurting Jessica.

  If so, their plan was working. He didn’t think he would ever forgive himself.

  “I don’t know who did this, but I will keep her safe until whoever did is caught.”

  “No, I’ll keep her safe. You stay away from her. Jess gets nothin’ but pain when she’s around you.”

  The accusation from the person closest to Jessica—who had already come to mean so much to him—stung. “Maybe you’re right. But I have the resources to ensure no one gets near her again, and to be certain this case is worked on night and day until it’s solved.”

  She blew out a slow breath, nodding. “I guess you do. But if you really want what’s best for her, after this is taken care of and she’s out of danger, you’ll stop bringing your baggage into her life and go away.”

  Reece crossed the room to look out the window into the dark night. He knew Liza was right. People got hurt around him. Most importantly, Jessica got hurt around him. If there were any justice, he would be the one in the hospital, and she would be fine. Looking at his history, at the crimes of his past and the secrets he’d kept, Reece figured if anyone deserved some retribution, it was him.

  She most definitely did not.

  You called me Jess.

  “Do you have any idea who is doing this?” Liza asked.

  He faced her. “Not really, though the police were already chasing down leads from the shooting.”

  He hadn’t seen Sid at tonight’s event, and honestly, this attack didn’t seem like something that slimeball would have done. He seemed more the take-a-wild-shot or club-somebody-in-the-head-from-behind type. The trap set for Jessica had been thought out, not to mention vicious. Someone had stood on the toilet in the next cubicle, looked down at her, and doused her with potentially lethal chemicals. Such an act screamed personal.

  There was another possibility, one he hadn’t seriously considered before he’d found her in that bathroom. “Tell me what you know about this Johnny character.”

  “Johnny…you mean her ex? What does he have to do with it? He’s out of the picture.”

  “Not entirely,” he said, realizing Jessica hadn’t told her sister about the obsessive man’s recent phone call. He didn’t want to betray a confidence, but with Jessica in danger, he needed to know everything. So he filled her in, admitting Jessica herself had wondered if he had been the person who shot at them last week.

  Liza’s hand went to her mouth and she staggered back, collapsing into a chair. The fear mixed with anger on her face told him how serious a possibility this could be. “That bastard.”

  “She wouldn’t tell me his full name,” he bit out.

  “Dixon. Johnny Dixon. Last I heard he was living in Anaheim.”

  He made a mental note, already trying to decide whether to ask Rowan or Raine to track this guy down. Rowan was a cop. He usually did things by the book.

  Raine did not.

  “Do you really think he could be the one after her?”

  “It’s possible. He stalked her. Is he really capable of hurting her?”

  “Oh hell yes.”

  “What did she ever see in him?”

  “Jessica met him and saw this big, good-looking country boy. Honest and open.” Liza sneered. “I saw somebody I thou
ght was playing a part and was probably a fucking racist.”

  He gripped the back of a chair, his fingers digging into the tired upholstery, wondering if Liza had been proved right. Judging by everything he’d heard about this Johnny Dixon, he suspected she had been. “What happened?”

  “He wore the nice, considerate boyfriend mask for a while, maybe a year. But it started to slip. When she tried to pull away, he got really mean. Guilt-tripped her, beat her down.”

  Glowering, he came closer. “You mean he…”

  Liza snorted. “No man’d dare smack Jessica around. If she didn’t kill him, I would.”

  She eyed him steadily, asking a question he easily read. It was also easy for him to answer. “I’d cut my hand off before I’d harm a hair on her head.”

  As they continued the stare off, he didn’t say another word, wondering what it would take to get Liza to trust him. The more he talked to her, the more he respected her. He wanted that trust, though he doubted he’d ever get it.

  Finally she nodded. “Okay then. We understand each other.”

  “I think so.”

  That didn’t mean she liked him or would ever trust him with her sister again. At least she believed him when he said he wasn’t an abusive pig. It was something, anyway.

  “Johnny never understood anything except getting what he wanted. He worked on her emotions. She’s got a vulnerable streak. Has she told you anything about her childhood?”

  “Yes.”

  Jessica had mentioned it the night they met. Over the past couple of days at work, he’d gotten her to talk a little more. It hadn’t been hard to get the picture. Spunky, feisty kid who thinks she’s pretty tough gets put in the system and struggles to survive for two years while she’s taught what toughness really is.

  “So you probably know why she tries to be so strong. But she has a really soft heart, and he knew how to work on it. He made her feel guilty, threatened to hurt himself, or both of them. He also worked hard to steal her self-confidence.”

  “I think she found it again,” he said, his tone dry.

  Her sister might have smiled, reminding him of the one thing they did have in common: they both cared very much for Jessica Jensen.

  “Yeah, she found it,” Liza said. “But not until a while after she walked out on that piece of Kentucky-fried shit.”

  He actually smiled. Liza and Jessica might not look alike, but the sisters were similar in a lot of the best ways. “She told me he didn’t take the breakup well.”

  “Huh-uh. We moved, we changed numbers. He came after her pretty hard.” She rolled her eyes. “You can bet who he blamed. Every time he saw me, he let loose with all the N-words he’d been saving up while they were dating.”

  “The coward,” he muttered. Jessica must have hated him for that, and hated herself for bringing such ugliness into her sister’s life.

  Before Liza could respond, the waiting room door was pushed open. Reece couldn’t muster any surprise when he saw his two brothers stride in. His father had probably called them both before the ambulance even left the hotel driveway. A hint of relief hit him dead center when he saw Rowan’s furious expression and Raine’s serious one.

  In times of crisis, Winchesters always stood together. They were a powerful, united wall, like the solid blue one that had blocked Jessica from the view of the press when she was being taken to the ambulance. They’d been that way since they were young and their world had erupted into death and insanity.

  For a while, Reece and Rowan had protected their baby brother, six years younger, from the darkest moments. Eventually they learned Raine had secrets of his own. And while there were still some things they had never talked about—nightmares he and his twin had hidden from the entire world—now the three of them trusted each other like no one else.

  Rowan grabbed him for a quick hug. Raine, always more reserved, put a hand on his shoulder.

  “How is she?” Rowan asked.

  “Being checked out.”

  “Dad said she was awake and talking when they brought her in?”

  “She was conscious.”

  She was also coughing like she was going to hack up a lung, and covered with rashes. Not to mention dizzy, confused, watery-eyed, terrified, and in pain. But sure, conscious.

  You called me Jess.

  Realizing Liza was watching from a few feet away, he introduced her to his brothers. He could tell by her expression she hadn’t stopped thinking about Jessica’s ex, wondering if he could really have done something so hateful to a woman he still insisted he loved. Reece had seen so much of the ugly side of people that he believed anything was possible.

  “So what do you need us to do?” asked Raine, direct as usual.

  “Keep her safe, first of all.”

  “No question.”

  His youngest brother was still all military—disciplined, powerful, strict, and relentless. He looked and carried himself like a soldier. Anyone who remembered the cute, cheeky little kid on a cereal commercial would never recognize him as the hard-ass standing before him in camo pants and a black T-shirt.

  Rowan cleared his throat.

  “What have you got?” Reece asked.

  His twin looked back and forth between Reece and Liza. She got the message.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I’m going to go get some coffee and try to reach Emily again. She had a show tonight. I know she’ll want to be here.” She offered to bring back coffee for everyone, but all three brothers declined, with thanks.

  After she was gone, Reece asked, “What have you found out?”

  “I just got off the phone with the lead detective, who’s an old friend,” Rowan said. “He’s going to let me come in unofficially. He’s already requested surveillance footage. Each hallway is completely covered, from several angles. Unless the person who did this is a five-year-old who got in and out through one of the small bathroom windows, we’ll see them on the recording.”

  Raine barked, “How long will it take?”

  “The night manager insists they have to get approval from their general manager, who’s on vacation,” Rowan said with a frown. “If he doesn’t respond by morning, we’ll get a court order to make them hand it over.”

  Great. Morning sounded like forever from now. Every minute Reece remained in the dark about Jessica’s condition increased his tension. The clock on the wall seemed to be stuck…or moving backward. His famed patience and control both seemed to have deserted him; the longer the night dragged on, the more tense he became.

  “I have one more piece of news,” Rowan said. “Sid Loman is dead.”

  Reece’s heart stopped beating. “What?”

  “His body was found on a side street in Venice Beach a couple of days ago. They didn’t identify him until last night. The guys who responded to the first report looked at missing persons cases, but didn’t bother searching APBs.” He looked and sounded disgusted at the beginner’s mistake. “The medical examiner’s office thought to do it and put it together right away.”

  “Cause of death?” asked Raine.

  “GSW.”

  Reece had made enough cop movies to know that meant gunshot wound. “Any chance it was suicide?” Guilty conscience?

  “Not unless he had a five-foot-long arm that bent backward. The angle of the entry wound says whoever did it was standing above him. Marks indicate he was tasered first.”

  Tasered and shot down in the street. Reece tried to feel something, but his mind was too focused on Jessica to have much of a reaction to the murder of a former employee. That would probably sound cold to most people; but for Reece, who controlled everything, including his emotions, it was reflex.

  You called me Jess.

  Swallowing as that control slipped again, he tried to give his full attention to his brother.

  “The cops in Venice spent the day looking into this guy’s background. He travels a lot to Vegas. Looks like he has a serious gambling habit.”

  “Any idea who killed
him?” asked Raine.

  Before he answered, Reece asked another question. “Could his murder have been connected to the gallery shooting?”

  “Las Vegas police say they know him. He’s in deep with a pretty dangerous bookie. So now Venice is wondering if he was the actual target, rather than you.”

  It was a reasonable assumption. If not for what had happened tonight at the hotel, Reece might even consider it a likely one. But tonight had happened. Jessica had been attacked, and it sure hadn’t been by a man who’d been dead for days. Unless the two events were completely unrelated, which seemed unlikely, he didn’t think the bullet that ruptured the gallery window had been intended for Sid. So why had he stopped one a few days later?

  “Maybe he saw something,” Reece murmured, rubbing his jaw.

  “What do you mean?” asked Rowan.

  Reece tried to pull his thoughts together, visualizing Friday night, seeing how it might have played out. Directing it. “I fired Sid and told him to get out of the building immediately.”

  Raine’s eyes narrowed as he took in the information. Rowan already knew as much and merely nodded.

  “He storms out of the gallery. Instead of going to his car and leaving, he goes out to the beach, needing to walk off the anger. He also needs to stay close because he wants to figure out a way to end run around me and get Sharon to give him his job back.”

  “Ahhh,” said Rowan. Reece knew that his twin was starting to visualize the scene, too.

  Raine cut to the chase. “You think Sid saw the shooter, ran and hid, and the guy waited him out and shot him down so he couldn’t identify him.”

  Rowan smirked. “You never could let anybody finish a story.”

  “It was taking too long.”

  “You know our brother. He’s always writes those long scene descriptions.”

  “Fuck off,” he told them both, not truly annoyed by their badgering. As always, their presence lightened his mental load. That had probably been their intention.

  Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but Reece’s attention was immediately drawn to a gowned doctor who walked past a window overlooking the corridor, then turned and walked into the waiting room.