by Sharon Sala
Jason left through a private elevator at the back of the office and went home. He couldn’t wait to share the news.
* * *
Wyrick had hacking skills the government didn’t even know existed, so running the plate on the car that had been following her was a piece of cake. Now she had a name, which made him her enemy. She had only two friends: Merlin and Charlie. Everyone else was either on her blacklist or her hit list. So far she’d only acted on the hit list in her dreams. But if they didn’t back off, she wasn’t making any promises.
“So, Mack Doolin, you’ve been made,” she said.
She began taking his personal life apart, one website at a time, from being held back in fourth grade because he still couldn’t read, to being kicked out of college for inciting a riot in his fraternity.
“Damn, Doolin. Just look at your bad self,” Wyrick muttered, her fingers flying over the keyboard, clicking one site after another until the screen was full, and she’d come up to this very day and the credit card he’d used to buy gas—right before he began chasing her ass down I-35 again.
And through that gas purchase, she went to the credit card company, found the bank where he was a customer and saw the same money deposited into his account from a company she recognized all too well. It was a shell company belonging to Cyrus Parks and Universal Theorem.
Now that she knew for sure, she needed to decide what, out of several possibilities, she could do to cause trouble for UT.
Payback was a bitch.
But it would have to wait.
Charlie needed a ride.
* * *
Mack Doolin was congratulating himself on finally getting close enough to Jade Wyrick and her Mercedes to plant the tracking device. He woke up to a tidy sum added to his checking account and an ache for more. Now he needed to find out where she was living, and that bug he’d planted made it easy.
He started the morning with an iPad, a coffee to go and a bag of doughnuts as he headed for his car. As soon as he was inside, he activated the tracking app on the iPad and checked to see where she and her Mercedes were this morning.
Once the blip popped up on the screen, he fished a doughnut out of the sack, ate half of it in one bite and set out to find her.
It didn’t take him long to realize she was hopping from one location to another with some rapidity, and figured she was running errands. He took a big swallow of coffee and finished off his second doughnut, then got serious about chasing her down, only it wasn’t as easy as he’d assumed it would be.
Whenever he thought he was about to catch up, the blip would begin moving again. He’d speed up, knowing he’d spot the Mercedes soon, but it never happened.
And then the blip showed the car heading toward the freeway, and Doolin was certain then that he had her pegged. He took the on-ramp and shot through traffic, chasing the blip until he began to close the gap, positive he’d see the Mercedes. He planned to stay far enough behind that she’d never see him following her to work.
“Where are you, bitch? What have you and your fancy-ass car been up to this morning?”
He glanced down at the map on the screen, then changed lanes to get a better view of what was ahead of him—but there was no Mercedes. The app said she was there. She wasn’t.
“What the hell?”
He accelerated into a passing lane, his focus on the traffic, and when he looked back down again and realized he was ahead of the blip, he glanced up into the rearview mirror. Still no Mercedes. Just a delivery van.
And that was when it hit him. All those stops he thought she’d been making. It wasn’t her. It was this van!
“Son of a bitch! She not only found it, but planted it on another vehicle.” He frowned. “Now what do I do?”
* * *
Jason drove home with mixed emotions. The family’s elation would be short-lived when they heard the news, and he intended to make the announcement in front of family and employees alike. He could imagine the ensuing chaos. No one was getting a break when it came to being a suspect, although he’d bet his life there wasn’t a single member of his family involved.
The closer he got, the more stressed out he became. He and his mother had exchanged words last night. They had yet to kiss and make up and it wasn’t likely that would happen anytime soon. Not with Kenneth feeding her irrational emotions.
Jason didn’t get why Kenneth was doing that. His mother was so desperate for someone to take care of her and make her decisions that he didn’t need to alienate her only son to do it. Jason would be more than happy to turn her mood swings over to a kind and loving companion. Not some sixtysomething dude looking for a permanent sugar mama.
Ah, well. That’s for another day. Today’s about the family revelation we prayed for.
He tapped the preprogrammed number to call home and waited for someone to answer. As he expected, it was Ruth.
“Dunleavy residence,” she said.
“Ruth, it’s me. Is the family home?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many members of the staff are on-site?”
“I’m not sure, because the gardening crew is here and they often vary.”
“Okay. Whoever’s there will suffice. I’ll be home in about five minutes. Please notify the family to gather in the great room. Not the library, the great room. It’s larger. And I want every member of the staff in there, too.”
“At the same time?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, at the same time. I have an announcement to make.”
“Yes, sir, right away,” Ruth said, and as she disconnected, Jason was already planning how he’d break the news.
It pissed him off no end that his uncle felt he had to leave the safety of his own home to stay alive, and he intended to rake them all over the coals before he was done.
With that attitude in place, he turned up the drive toward home and drove behind the castle to the family parking garage.
This would put an end to Miranda using his missing uncle as the excuse she needed to call him daily. They’d been seeing each other for almost a year, but she was getting too possessive and clingy. He needed to break it off with her. However, she was somewhere in Italy shopping for designer clothing and likely pretending she was someone other than the daughter of a butcher who’d turned his homemade sausages into a household name. Johannes’s wealth funded her every desire, except Jason. He was the only thing her money couldn’t buy.
He picked up his briefcase and, like all the family, went in through the kitchen. He liked seeing what was going on in the castle from the bottom up, and at the same time, get a whiff of what was cooking for dinner. Every evening, it was a game between him and their chef as to whether he could guess the entrée of the night. But Peter wouldn’t be in there this evening. He’d be in the great room with the rest of the staff. Still, Jason sniffed the air and peeked in a couple of pots as he passed through.
When he finally arrived, the silence was telling. It was obvious his family didn’t feel comfortable visiting among themselves in front of the staff, and the staff were just as uncomfortable mingling with the family.
When his mother saw him walk in, she stood abruptly, then started crying.
“You’ve come to tell us Carter is dead, haven’t you?”
Kenneth immediately put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t borrow trouble, darling. Let’s sit down and hear what he has to say.”
Jason ignored his mother’s outburst as he put his briefcase aside, then poured himself a shot of Irish whiskey and downed it straight.
“Yes, I have news. The man I hired to find Uncle Carter was successful. I got a call from him less than an hour ago. Uncle Carter is alive and well.”
Jason knew his uncle Edward would be the first to raise a fist in victory, and he was.
“Thank God, thank God!” Edward cried, unashamed of the tears running down his cheeks.
His mother, Dina, was crying again, but this time they were happy tears. Even Kenneth seemed truly ela
ted by the news.
The staff were celebrating in their own way, hugging and clapping each other on the back, smiling and nodding their heads in delight.
Jason let them have a moment, then raised his voice.
“May I have your attention, please?” And as the silence spread, he continued. “There’s more. And I can’t tell you how damn pissed off I am about it. The reason Uncle Carter disappeared was because he believes someone under his roof—and he meant the entire estate—is trying to kill him.”
The gasp that ensued was so loud, Jason imagined he felt the oxygen being sucked out of the room. He thought his mother was going to faint, and every member of the staff was staring straight at him, as if they suddenly couldn’t look into the eyes of the person standing next to them.
“No!” Edward cried. “I can’t believe... I don’t understand... Carter is the dearest man.”
Jason went over to Edward and put a hand on his shoulder to console him.
“Yes, Uncle Edward, he’s good to all of us, and we love him dearly. But in the business world, he has enemies. And if he’s right, we’ll find a connection between someone in this room or on the payroll for this estate who is connected to one of his known enemies, and when we do, heads are going to roll. I will show no mercy to the guilty parties or the families they leave behind when they realize they’ll be spending the rest of their lives in jail.”
Then Jason looked at the chef.
“It’s prime rib with baby carrots and pearl onions.”
The chef smiled. “Sir. I believe you peeked.”
“Then I am right?” Jason asked.
“That you are,” the chef said.
Jason nodded. “You can all go back to your duties now. Thank you for your patience, but don’t forget what I said.”
Nine
Carter Dunleavy was standing on the back deck of the cabin with a cold beer in his hand. He had yet to take a swallow, because he wanted a clear head to get this story told. He didn’t know where Al Forsythe was at this moment, but he was calling him anyway, hoping the Denver police chief wouldn’t let it go to voice mail.
Carter knew he had some big explaining to do, but his main focus was making sure Rom didn’t wind up being blamed for anything other than doing his friend a favor. He set the bottle of beer on the deck railing and made the call. It rang and rang, and just when Carter feared it was going to voice mail, he heard the terse sound of Al’s voice.
“Chief Forsythe.”
“Hey, Al.”
Forsythe’s voice shifted into an angry rumble. “Who the hell is this?”
“Al, it’s me, Carter.”
“What the fuck? Carter? Where are you, how are you, and do you need help?”
“My location is still secret for the time being, but I won’t be here much longer. Once the news gets out that I’m alive, it will alert the person or persons trying to kill me that I’ve come out of hiding. I’m fine. And I’m calling to beg your forgiveness for letting the ruse go on this long, but until recently, I was uncertain as to how to proceed.”
“Someone’s trying to kill you? And you don’t feel confident that the entire police force in Denver, Colorado, can do anything about it?”
The anger in Al’s voice was evident, and Carter couldn’t blame him.
“It’s not like that, Al. This has a more sinister undertone than even I first believed when the incidents began. I thought I had food poisoning, only to learn that the lab in ER found trace elements of arsenic in me. I’ve slipped on water at the very top of the stairs, and avoided breaking my neck by making one desperate grab at the stair rail. And the wreck I had just below the Siegrid home wasn’t an accident. I found out later my brake line had been cut. And there were other, earlier things that I chalked up to my imagination. Until they upped their game...”
“The hell you say,” Al muttered. “But you could still have trusted us. We would’ve put a twenty-four-hour guard around your house.”
“That’s just it, Al. At this point, I’m convinced it is someone on my estate who’s doing this. I don’t know if there’s a personal agenda, or if they took money from one of my business enemies to kill me. I’ve done business with many people and made enemies along the way. Enemies who wouldn’t shed a tear at my demise. So at this point, the most dangerous place for me to be is home.”
“Well, that does screw the pooch,” Al said.
Carter grinned. The euphemism was military slang from an old Tom Wolfe novel.
“To put it bluntly, yes, it does, and I have a favor to ask. You’re going to find out that Rom Delgado helped me escape Denver, but at the time, he thought he was only helping me hide. He didn’t realize the extent of what my disappearance would do, but I did. It’s all on me, and I’m asking for understanding and forgiveness. I owe a lot of cops an apology, too, and whatever man-hours it cost, counting overtime, plus bonuses for the cops and a generous donation to the orphans’ fund. I will pay and gladly.”
Carter knew that paying back the costs of a false police report was the usual penalty, plus discretion by the judge as to whether jail time would be served. But he figured no one would be putting him in jail for hiding from a killer.
“Yes, yes, I’ll certainly pass the message along. Does Jason know?”
“Yes, he just found out,” Carter said.
“Who told him?” Al asked.
“The man my nephew hired to find me. His name is Charlie Dodge, out of Dallas, and he is one hell of an investigator. I haven’t met him, but I spoke to him. He’s been working with your detective who is in charge of the investigation, so he hasn’t been going rogue on any of this. Maybe you could call my nephew now. Maybe the two of you could hold some kind of press conference. Work out what you want to say, because if I can’t go home, then I’m damn sure not coming back to Denver. I like to hunt ducks, but I don’t intend to become a sitting duck for the hunter who’s after me.”
“Okay, and understood,” Al said. “It took you long enough, but I’m glad to hear your damn voice. Next time we go to dinner, it’s steak at your house. I’ve heard your chef, Peter, is Cordon Bleu all the way.”
Carter laughed. “It’s a deal, and thank you again for understanding. I would appreciate it if you’d call Rom and assure him he’s not in any legal trouble, and that I misled him in my intentions.”
“Yes, I can do that, but not until after the news conference,” Al said.
“That’s fair. I hope to see you soon,” Carter said and disconnected.
* * *
Once Charlie got back to the hotel, he made a courtesy call to Detective Cristobal as well, but he’d already been contacted by Chief Forsythe. Charlie thanked Cristobal for being so cooperative and ended it there.
Hours later, he was in bed, half-asleep and trying—not for the first time—to watch the end of Transformers: The Last Knight before turning out the lights. Just as they were getting to the climax, his cell signaled a text. It was from Wyrick.
Barring complications, I’ll pick you up at Denver International at 10:00 a.m. I’ll text once I’m on the ground to tell you where. I’ll be refueling there before pickup. Bring me a coffee and anything resembling a sweet roll.
Charlie blinked. “Damn woman.”
He rolled over, set the alarm on his cell phone, allowing himself plenty of time to get to the airport and turn in his rental, then, God forbid he should forget, pick up refreshments for the pilot. When he looked back up at the TV, he realized the movie was over and he still didn’t know how it ended.
So he sent a text to Carter Dunleavy, telling him the plan as it stood, and that he would call him again from the airport when they were en route to Colorado Springs.
* * *
Wyrick had dressed purposefully for the flight this morning. Her eye makeup was purple to match the formfitting purple leather she was wearing. She had long since been unable to startle Charlie with her getup, but she didn’t dress to shock him anymore. It was just who she’d become. This mor
ning, she would get her boss back, and breakfast to boot.
She left the apartment as the sun was coming up, feeling a sense of anticipation. She didn’t mind spending the day in the air. Keeping an ever-cautious watch on her rearview mirror, she arrived at the private airport where she stored her Ranger, certain she hadn’t been tailed. Benny was standing in the open doorway of the hangar, and the Ranger was out and ready for her.
She parked her Mercedes inside, set its security alarm and walked back out.
“Morning, Benny,” she said.
“Morning, ma’am. Nice duds.”
She grinned. Benny didn’t give a shit about how she looked, which made her feel easier around him.
“I do what I can,” she said.
“And you do fine. She’s fueled up and ready to go. I’ll walk with you through preflight check, in case you see something you don’t like.”
Wyrick tossed her bag in the back of the chopper before beginning her inspection. Once she was satisfied all was well, she slid into the pilot’s seat to do a final run-through, then started the engine.
She put her headset on for radio contact, adjusted the fit and gave Benny a thumbs-up as she revved the engine. Once she reached maximum lift, she went straight up and made a quick half circle to get her bearings. Then she headed north for Denver.
The flight chatter on the headset was normal as she checked in with air traffic control at Denver Airport, informing them she was in the air.
They radioed back with an altitude setting, and told her they had her on radar.
Wyrick was good to go.
She was flying with the early-morning sun on her right, glancing every now and then at the panel before her, making sure there were no surprises brewing.
