Colder Than Ice

by Maggie Shayne

  But he had other connections—friends in high places, as the saying went—though in his case, they were not friends at all. Just people with things in their past that they wished to keep there. Many skeletons in many closets. And Mordecai had been rattling the bones.

  Time to see what had resulted.

  He sipped his wine and got to his feet, refilled the glass and carried it with him into the den, where he’d set up his computer. There were no high speed, always-on connections here in this small town. Just an old-fashioned dial-up server. He clicked on the Connect icon, then waited for the modem to finish its squealing and log on.

  The mailbox logo lit up, and he clicked on it. Three e-mails, the third one with a file attached. He clicked on the first, from a judge in San Diego.

  “Joshua Kendall and Kevin Russell own a private security firm with offices in Manhattan and Washington, D.C. While neither man publicizes his name, for obvious reasons, the firm has a Web site, RK-Security.com. It’s owned, hosted and maintained by a third party, however, so no personal information on either of the proprietors shows up in WHO IS records. I was unable to get a home address on either man. That’s all I know.”

  Security firm—well, that made sense. Perhaps Beth had sensed Mordecai closing in on her and hired him for protection.

  “I knew he wasn’t who he was pretending to be.”

  He clicked on the second message, from a Congresswoman in South Carolina. “I won’t help you. Don’t contact me again.”

  He pursed his lips, sighed softly. “What a shame,” he said. Then he took an extra moment to skim through his files and find the ten-year-old photographs he’d scanned in. So much easier to keep track of one’s records since computers came along. He had files on hundreds of people. Ammunition.

  He opened the file folder for a quick look. The Honorable Sheila McGruger’s long limbs were wrapped around a naked man. She’d been very good back then. Only a lawyer, but just as married as she was today. He wondered sometimes if she remembered their dalliance fondly. There were several shots, and he flicked through them, pausing longest on his favorite—the one of her on her knees in front of him, taking him halfway down her throat. He’d made sure they were very close and presenting a side view to his hidden camera for that particular carnal act. His face didn’t show, but the tattoo on his thigh did. She was clearly not with her husband.

  He flipped through his address book for North Carolina newspapers and sent the entire file folder to the largest one, all with a click of his mouse.

  “She really should know better than to defy me,” he muttered.

  Sighing, he moved on to read the third e-mail.

  It was from Martin Phillips, the assistant warden of the prison where David Quentin Gray had been held, before Mordecai had helped to arrange his escape and subsequent demise.

  “Yes, I know who Kendall is,” he had written. “The Feds have gone to a lot of trouble to help him keep his past quiet, and the press on him is too old to be found on the Net. Plus, he’s shortened his name since then. It was Kendalson. He was in the papers, years ago. He was on the team that stormed your compound. He accidentally shot a girl, killed her, and was fired over it. I’ve attached a news clipping for you.

  “By the way, I found Gray right where you said I would and got all the credit for locating him. Even though he was dead, as I’m sure you know. I figure we’re even now.”

  Mordecai smiled. “Not even, my friend,” he said to himself. “But I’m glad you’ve provided more leverage for my use, should I need to solicit your aid in the future.” He saved the e-mail containing the assistant warden’s confession to his file on Martin Phillips, then opened the clipping.

  It was a front page story, and the scan was excellent. The photo of Kendall—probably taken from his badge when they made him turn it in—was a good likeness, though obviously taken when he was much younger.

  The headline was the best part. ATF Agent’s Bullet Killed Unarmed Seventeen-Year-Old Girl in Raid on Young Believers.

  Mordecai smiled slowly. “This is too good. He’s the one who shot Lizzie?”

  Now do you understand? the voices whispered. Now do you see why you had to let her fall in love with him?

  He nodded. “If she has…then this will destroy her.”

  Timing is crucial, Mordecai. You have to show her at just the right time.

  Again he nodded. Then he hit the print button on the PC screen and waited while the printer spat out a hard copy of the truth about Lizzie’s new savior.

  “I love you, Joshua.”

  Her voice, soft and breathless, whispered those words again and again in Joshua’s mind as he lay in her bed, holding her in his arms while she slept.

  She loved him.

  Hell.

  He’d never intended to take things this far. Something had just…happened. When he’d kissed her tonight, he’d let himself fall for his own act. It was as if he really had fallen head over heels for the woman. As if he really did…

  It was utterly unethical of him to have allowed things get to this point. Convincing her that he loved her was bad enough. Letting her fall in love with him was considerably worse, though still within the realm of necessary evil. But making love with her—that was beyond the rest. It was cruel. He wasn’t a cruel guy. And he wasn’t a caveman.

  She muttered something in her sleep and rolled over, spooning up against him. His arm slid around her waist automatically, and he could smell her hair. With their bodies nestled this close, he knew at least part of the answer. The attraction he felt for her was real. Had been all along. And he liked her, making the attraction more potent. Above and beyond all of that was the past—his bullet cutting her down, costing her damn near everything. So, sure, part of it was probably guilt, mingled with the overwhelming relief of knowing she was alive.

  Hell, it would take a shrink a year to figure out why he’d wound up in this woman’s bed. He certainly wasn’t going to work it out in one night. And he wasn’t sure it would matter if he did, at this point. The deed was done; there was no turning back. If he backed off now, she would want to know why. So he would just have to play it out, live the act, pretend that he was in love with her.

  He snuggled closer, kissing her hair and relaxing onto the pillows. If nothing else, he thought, he had at least won her trust. To bad he was going to end up dashing it on the rocks of truth once she was safe and her nemesis behind bars.

  Tuesday

  She didn’t trust the man as far as she could throw him, Beth thought while she poured them each a cup of morning coffee. He was too good-looking to be trusted, to begin with. He’d been lying to her since he’d met her, and he was convincing and charming enough to fool anyone. Even Maude. Which meant he could fool her just as easily.

  Mordecai had been like that. Charismatic. Charming. Beautiful, with his dark-brown soulful eyes and those thick lashes. He had little-boy eyes. Angel eyes. As windows to the soul, they were miserable failures. Or maybe his soul really was a thing of beauty beneath the madness that had corrupted it.

  There’s nothing as precious as an honest man, Maude used to say. Unfortunately, there’s nothing as rare, either.

  She set Joshua’s cup on the table, studying him closely and wondering if he was precious and rare, dropped on her door stop by some higher power that thought she’d finally earned a break, or if he was just another beautiful liar. One who smelled sinfully good, freshly showered, and looked good, freshly shaved.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  Ah, right. She’d been staring. Caught. “That Maude probably agreed to go along with your little charade in the hopes that something would happen between us.”

  He smiled just a little, and a dimple came into his cheek. “Yeah, she was trying all along. Nothing subtle about it, either.”

  “No, there never was.” She frowned then, tilting her head to one side. “Those people who were examining her body…?”

  “Worked for Uncle Sam.” He tig
htened his lips, as if debating whether to tell her something; then finally he sighed. “She was murdered, Beth.”

  She almost dropped the coffee cup. “How?”

  “We suspect a drug was mixed with one of her vials of insulin.”

  Beth blinked as Maude’s panicked face and straining, terrified eyes replayed through her mind. “She couldn’t breathe.”

  “That’s how this particular drug works. Paralyzes the muscles, including the lungs. Bastard could have used a tranquilizer—knocked her out so she wouldn’t have suffered like that.”

  She drew a breath. “It was Mordecai, wasn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  “And my house?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing definitive. Everything points to a gas leak. But that’s not a tough thing to set up. Tough to prove, though. We may never know for sure. But according to the Feds, he’s a genius with explosives.”

  She frowned. “I never knew that.”

  “It was classified information. It’s long been suspected he may very well have rigged the compound to burn himself, and that something went wrong, set it off early.”

  Lowering her head, she let her eyes fall closed. “No wonder you sent Bryan away.”

  He frowned at her.

  “I’m dangerous, Josh. Anyone who gets close to me is putting themselves at risk.”

  “I sent Bryan away because of Mordecai, Beth. Not because of you.”

  “Mordecai wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. I know him. I know the way his mind works. What Mordecai loves, he has to own, and once he owns you, he never lets go.”

  “He let your daughter go.”

  She lifted her head, nodding slowly. “I still haven’t figured that out. It’s completely out of character. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was part of some convoluted plan to get her back in the end.”

  He sighed softly. “He doesn’t own you, Beth. You got away. You survived, made a new life. He can never own you.”

  “What he can’t own, he destroys.” She studied his face for a long moment. “I know what he’s doing,” she said softly. “He’s trying to take away everyone I care about. Maude was first—you’ll be next.”

  “Don’t even—”

  “You should leave here.”

  “—say it,” he said, finishing the sentence her own had cut in half. Shaking his head, he faced her, his eyes solemn but stubborn. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re putting your life in danger.”

  “It’s my job to put my life in danger.”

  “You have a son to raise.”

  “And you have a daughter.”

  “I’m not raising my daughter. I’m not even in her life except for phone calls and e-mail.”

  “You can be, once Young is behind bars where he belongs.”

  “That’s not your—”

  “Enough, Beth.” She flinched at the words, and Josh got to his feet as he said them. “I’m here, and I’m staying until this thing is finished. Period.”

  She pursed her lips, lowered her head. He was making a whole lot of progress in winning her trust, she thought, and a little shiver raced up her spine. She didn’t want to trust him. Didn’t want to put herself in that precarious a position with any man ever again, loving and trusting to the point where common sense and her own mind failed her, and the love and trust became the controlling force. Where the voice of the man overwhelmed her own inner-speak, until she couldn’t hear herself anymore.

  That’s how it had been with Mordecai.

  But Joshua was nothing like Mordecai. He said he wouldn’t leave her until this was over. And even though she didn’t want to, she believed it. She believed him.

  She swallowed her fears and let herself accept that, like it or not, she trusted this man.

  “I should shower. Shelly Bryce is supposed to come by this morning to cram for a second period English test. Though given the situation, I should probably cancel.”

  She saw the way his face changed, the way he averted his eyes all of a sudden. “Maybe you won’t need to,” he said.

  She frowned, studying him. But before she could ask what he meant by that, the telephone rang. Beth got to her feet and crossed the kitchen, picked up the telephone and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Ms. Slocum. This is Mrs. Bryce, Shelly’s mom.”

  Slanting a look at Josh, Beth wondered how he could have known. “Hi, Mrs. Bryce.”

  “I’m afraid Shelly won’t be coming by this morning.”

  “I hope she’s not ill.”

  “No, I just, uh…well, I decided against letting her skip first period to study for that test.”

  Beth blinked. “But she said she only had study hall first period.”

  “Yes, well…the thing is, we’ve decided to drop the tutoring altogether.”

  “Oh.” She was being fired. She had no idea what to say. “I hope you haven’t been unhappy with my work, Mrs. Bryce. Kelly’s grades have come up significantly since—”

  “Yes, I know they have. Frankly, Ms. Slocum, we’re concerned about more than just our daughter’s grades. And…well, it really doesn’t matter now, does it? We’ve made our decision. Have a nice day.”

  She hung up the phone before Beth could get another word in. Beth just stood there for a moment, staring at the receiver in her hand, and looking again at Josh. “You knew about this?”

  He nodded.

  “How? What’s going on, Josh?”

  “Bryan heard some of the other kids talking. Seems there are some wild rumors being spread around town.”

  “Rumors. About me?”

  He nodded.

  “What kinds of rumors?”

  “Drug abuse, mostly. There’s some suggestion that you may have gotten on the wrong side of some dealer, who decided to blow up your house in retaliation.”

  She closed her eyes. “So I should expect more calls like that one.”

  “People are idiots,” he said, rising from the table, coming across the room to her and sliding a hand over her shoulders.

  “I can’t blame them. After all, I’m the mysterious stranger with no past. The teacher who won’t take a job at the local school. Secretive, hermitlike. This is the first plausible explanation anyone has come up with.”

  “And the most ludicrous one anyone could think of.”

  “You can’t blame them for wanting to protect their kids. God, if they think some criminal is after me—” She stopped there, looked up at him slowly. “Actually, there is some criminal after me. They’re right to keep their kids out of the cross fire.” She sighed. “It’s not just this one student, is it, Josh?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Bryan didn’t think so.”

  “It’s for the best. But what am I going to do? The workers are supposed to start on this place tomorrow. Everything I have in savings is earmarked for the renovations. Hell, I put a good chunk of it down already. What am I going to live on?”

  “What I don’t understand is how a rumor this insane got started.”

  “Mordecai,” she whispered. “Who else?”

  “I thought the same thing at first, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he want to ruin your reputation like that?”

  She lowered her head, staring at the floor. “He has a reason. Everything Mordecai does has a reason. It’s all part of whatever he’s up to.” Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, she lifted her eyes again. “Maybe he’s trying to take away everything I have, as well as everyone I love, before he finally kills me.”

  “He’s not going to kill you. And this gossip fiasco isn’t going to work, either.”

  The telephone rang again. She recognized the number on the caller ID screen. Another of her students. She looked at the phone, then at him. “I think it already has, Josh.”

  Josh put in a call to Arthur as soon as Beth was busy elsewhere in the house. And Arthur’s first words were, “Has Mordecai made contact?”

  Josh pursed his l
ips, frowning as he recalled Beth’s earlier warning—that he trusted this man too much. “Not directly. What I’d like to know is how you knew he would find her.”

  “What do you mean, Josh? It’s always been a risk.”

  “Yeah, but this is a little too coincidental to be for real. Beth’s been living out here for a year without so much as a ripple. Now, a few days after you send me to protect her, he tracks her down? Come on. Don’t mess with me, Art. You knew this was coming.”

  Arthur hesitated before replying. “I got a tip that a convict, Young’s former lawyer, might have had some idea where Beth was hiding out,” he admitted.

  “How?”

  “Newsclipping. Photo that caught her by accident. She was watching some town event last fall. Harvest parade, something like that. Goddamn bad luck.”

  “But the guy’s in prison, isn’t he? You could’ve had him watched, had all his outside contact monitored—”

  “Did that, son. But he didn’t try to get word out that way.”

  “Then how—”

  “He escaped.”

  Josh closed his eyes slowly. “Jesus Christ, Arthur, why the hell didn’t you move Beth the second you learned about this?”

  “Because she wouldn’t have gone. And because…I thought we could get him, all right? I thought we could get this son of a bitch Mordecai Young at last.”

  “Using Beth as bait?”

  “I sent you to protect her.”

  “I brought my kid with me, Arthur! You put my son at risk, and you didn’t even bother to tell me. If I’d known Mordecai knew where she was…”

  “I didn’t know you had your son with you, Josh. Not until after you took the job. It had been years since we’d been in touch. Last I knew, Bryan was living with your ex in California somewhere.”

  That much, at least, was true. “You should have told me the truth,” Joshua said. “You should have given me all the information. Instead of using me—and her—to try to blot out the only stain on your career.”