by Sharon Sala
“Don’t cry. If that’s the kind of man he is, better you find out now.”
Miranda sobbed.
Johannes handed her his handkerchief.
She blotted her tears, then wiped her nose and laid her head back on his chest.
“I loved him. I feel so betrayed. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t find a man to love me. I wish I’d never been born.”
“Come, come, darling. Here’s your Binni. Let her get you back to bed. I’m going to call the doctor.”
Miranda turned to the housekeeper who’d become the stand-in for the mother she’d lost, and let the woman’s soothing words be her guide as she went back to her room and got into bed.
* * *
Johannes hurried down to his office to phone their personal physician, and explained what was happening. The doctor agreed to call in a prescription for Miranda and said it would be delivered.
“Thank you.” Johannes hung up.
He needed to think of something he could do for her. Something he could buy her that would get her out of this emotional state. He didn’t leave his office for almost an hour, and even then he didn’t go back to her. He didn’t know what to say.
It wasn’t long afterward that the pharmacy delivered the prescription. Johannes opened the sack, saw that it was Valium and frowned, then sent for Binni.
“Yes, sir, what do you need?” Binni asked.
“This is a prescription for Miranda. Please take it to her, dole out the amount she is to have and watch her take it, then bring the bottle back to me.”
“Yes, sir,” Binni said and hurried away.
But what Johannes didn’t know was that after the letdown, Miranda was thriving on being the center of attention. When the housekeeper came and handed her two pills, she happily downed the Valium and floated off to sleep.
This was not the outcome Johannes had expected when Miranda first told him she was dating Jason Dunleavy. Months later when she announced she was going to Europe to shop for a trousseau, he was even more pleased. This was the closest she’d come to getting married, and she was almost thirty. Finally, a wedding was on the horizon.
He had pictured his daughter marrying into one of the richest families in the US. And now this. After all the money he’d spent, it was not how he’d imagined things would be.
* * *
Jason was nearing the Dunleavy building when he got stuck at a red light. Being late for the board meeting was on his mind, so when the light turned green, he wasted no time accelerating. But as he did, he glimpsed movement to his right just as a car ran a red light and blew through the intersection.
“Asshole!” Jason yelled. He hit the brakes, then automatically leaned across the console to catch his briefcase from sliding to the floor.
At that moment his windshield exploded. He threw his arms up to shield his face and then slammed the car into Park. His heart was pounding from the shock, and he was already beginning to feel a stinging sensation on his face as he slowly sat up.
“What just happened?” he muttered and then looked at himself in the rearview mirror. There were tiny bleeding abrasions all over his face, obviously from the shattered glass.
Then he saw drivers getting out of their cars and running toward him. The first one to reach him was a woman in scrubs.
“I’m a nurse!” she said. “Are you all right? Were you hit anywhere?”
“What? Hit? No. I missed the car. I don’t know what happened.”
“Someone in that car fired two shots at you as he raced through the intersection. At least one bullet, maybe both, shattered your windshield. I saw it.”
Jason’s head was spinning. He clutched the steering wheel to steady himself as the nurse reached into the car and grabbed his arm.
“Ow!” he said and pulled back in pain.
“You’ve been shot,” she told him.
And the moment she said it, he began to feel the burn.
Sirens were approaching as everything began going out of focus.
“Getting dizzy,” he murmured.
The nurse had a hand on his shoulder. “I’m right here, sir. I’ll stay with you until the ambulance arrives.”
“My name is Jason Dunleavy. Tell the police to call Charlie Dodge. Number is in my phone,” he said, then passed out.
* * *
Dina was a little put out with Kenneth. They were going to take a drive this morning in his new car, but he’d insisted on having his lesson with the tennis pro from the club first. So here she was, sitting on a single tier of bleachers out by their court, watching Kenneth play. His stroke was getting better. At least that was something, she was thinking when she heard someone call her name. She turned toward the house, then frowned. Ruth was running in her direction, shouting, “Miss Dina! Miss Dina!”
Dina heard the panic in Ruth’s voice. She climbed down from her seat and started toward her.
Ruth was wide-eyed and out of breath by the time they met up.
“Miss Dina! The police just called. Mr. Jason’s been shot. He’s being taken to St. Joseph’s.”
Dina screamed.
Kenneth heard her, dropped his racquet and began running. Dina collapsed into his arms, sobbing hysterically.
“Ruth, my God! What the hell has happened now?”
“Mr. Jason has been shot. Detective Bruner just called again to tell us. They took him to St. Joseph’s for surgery. I don’t have any other information.”
“Does Edward know?” Kenneth asked.
“No, sir.”
“He won’t want to be left behind,” Kenneth said. “I’ll bring the car around. Please help him get ready and bring him outside. Can you do that for us?”
“Yes,” she said and took off running back to the castle, while Kenneth grabbed Dina by both shoulders and gave her a little shake.
“Darling. Get a hold of yourself. I need to change out of these shorts and get the car keys. Come with me.”
Dina took his hand, and by the time they got back inside, she’d gone into mother mode and pulled herself together. He ran upstairs to change out of the tennis gear, while she went to help Ruth.
Ruth was assisting Edward out of his house slippers and into street shoes when Dina broke the news to him.
“I don’t understand! I don’t understand! Why is our family suddenly under attack? I wish Carter was here,” Edward cried.
“I wish Carter was here, too, but we still have each other, right? And what one can do, more can do better,” Ruth said.
After that, Edward seemed to pull himself together, too, and let himself be led out the door to the car Kenneth had waiting. Moments later, they were loaded up and gone, leaving Ruth in tears as she watched them go.
Fourteen
Charlie was determined to visit Annie and was at his apartment getting ready when his cell phone rang. Denver PD. He frowned.
“Hello, Charlie Dodge speaking.”
“Mr. Dodge, this is Detective Bruner from the Denver Police Department. Jason Dunleavy was shot in his car on the way to work this morning. He asked that you be notified.”
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat as he turned around and bolted from his bedroom, looking for Carter. No success.
“Is Jason alive?” he asked, heading for Wyrick next.
“Yes, he’s in surgery now.”
“What happened?” Charlie asked and snapped his fingers at Wyrick to get her attention, and then pointed to his phone and mouthed, Denver PD. Jason was shot.
Wyrick flew out of her chair and ran to find Carter as Bruner continued to explain.
“He was stopped at an intersection. Light turned green, and as he started to accelerate, another car ran the red light. Jason slammed on the brakes, and if he hadn’t leaned sideways to catch his briefcase, this would be a different story. Whoever the driver was, it was a deliberate move. He fired two shots straight into Jason’s car. The windshield shattered, and he was hit in the shoulder. We don’t know yet if it was the same bullet, but according to a wi
tness, two were fired.”
“Tell the family I’ll get there as soon as I can,” Charlie said.
“Where are you?” Bruner asked.
“I’m in Dallas.”
“You’re the PI who found Carter Dunleavy, right?”
“Yes. Listen, I need to notify Carter myself because he’s still in hiding. Thank you for calling. We’ll talk more after I get there.”
Carter walked in as Charlie ended the call.
“What’s going on? Wyrick said it was an emergency.”
Charlie hated like hell to have to say this, but he couldn’t possibly sugarcoat the truth.
“Jason was shot on his way to work this morning. He’s in surgery.”
Carter groaned. “I’ve got to get home. How fast can we be in Denver?”
“I’ll call Benny,” Wyrick said.
“Just get packed, Carter. I’ll take you home, but I’m not leaving you there. I’m going to assume you have an extra bed somewhere in that castle of yours.”
“Make that two beds,” Wyrick said. “Flying back and forth is a waste of time when you need information ASAP. I’m staying with you. As long as you’re there, I’ll work from your place.”
* * *
Wyrick ran over to her desk to call her mechanic. As soon as she had everything she’d been working on downloaded onto a flash drive, she dropped it in her bag, put her jacket back on and ran down the hall, yelling.
“Charlie!”
He came out of the bedroom. “What?”
“Benny was on-site, so he’s fueling up now. My place is on the way. I’ll stop there long enough to pack a few things. You two meet me at the hangar.”
“Will do,” Charlie said and then stopped her. “Whatever there is about me that ticks you off, can we put that aside while we’re working from their home?”
“Yes.”
And then she was gone, slamming the front door behind her. She ran without her usual caution, and came flying out of the building into the parking garage—only to find Mack Doolin hunkered down beside the front fender of her car.
“You bastard!” she screamed, dropped her things and leaped on him before he could stand up.
The impact was so sudden, Mack’s chin hit concrete as he went down and then he rolled, taking her with him and took a swing at her before scrambling to his feet. She deflected the blow with her forearm, and then both of them were up.
He came at her again, only to get the toe of her boot between his legs.
“Bitch!” he screamed as he grabbed at his crotch, then sprang at her.
His momentum slammed her hard enough against a van that she lost her breath, but when he started to turn and run, she tackled him from behind and took him down hard.
And that was what Charlie saw as he and Carter came through the door into the garage.
“What the hell?” he shouted as he dropped his gear and ran.
Wyrick didn’t know Charlie was there until his arm was around her waist, pulling her up and off Doolin. Then Charlie grabbed Doolin by the back of the shirt and yanked him up so fast his neck popped.
It wasn’t until Doolin was on his feet, that Charlie realized he knew him as another private investigator.
“Mack! What the hell?”
But Mack wasn’t talking.
Wyrick’s eyes narrowed. “You know him?”
“He’s a PI for hire, like me,” Charlie said.
Wyrick snapped, “No! He’s not like you. He’s a stalker. And you don’t hit women, damn it!”
Charlie’s grip tightened on Mack’s arm. “You hit her?”
Mack shrugged. “I swung at her, but it was reflex, I swear.”
Charlie slammed Mack against the nearest car and pinned him there, then looked at Wyrick.
“Talk to me. What the hell’s been going on?”
“Oh, I’ll talk,” Wyrick said. “He’s been stalking me for weeks. He bugged my car. I watched him do it, and I caught him doing it again just now.”
Then she jabbed Doolin in the chest. “You’re working for them, aren’t you?” she snapped.
Doolin was angry, but she could tell he was also scared, and right now, he probably didn’t know which one of these two people scared him the most.
“Nothin’ personal,” he said. “It’s just a job.”
“Working for who?” Charlie asked, but again, Wyrick answered for him.
“A company I used to work for. And just so you know, Doolin, I got your tag number when you bugged my car the first time. I ran a search to get your stats. I know about you all the way from elementary school to getting kicked out of college, to the money you’ve been hiding in a bank in the Caymans. You have two choices. You can keep tailing me to collect your fee or you can tell them you quit. But if you choose to continue this chase, I will make that money disappear with one click on my keyboard and it’ll happen so fast not even God will know where it went.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I can and I will, and you won’t be able to say a word to the authorities without giving away the fact that you’ve been hiding money from the IRS,” she said.
“Before you bother to answer,” Charlie told him. “One son of a bitch already hurt her this week, and you just gave her another bruise and her knuckles are bleeding.” Then Charlie yanked Doolin so close they were barely an inch apart. “If I ever see your sorry-ass face again in the city of Dallas, I will beat you to within an inch of your life.”
Mack groaned. “I’ll quit. I choose the money, and I’ll be out of here by sundown. Is that good enough?”
“You know the way out. Take it before I call the cops and get your license revoked,” Charlie said.
Doolin ran.
Wyrick hated to admit she was shaking and blamed it on adrenaline, but when Charlie tilted her chin so he could see the abrasion on her face, the urge to lean into his strength was so strong it scared her. She pushed him away.
“I’m fine. He was a pain in the ass, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’ve been dodging people like him off and on for the past ten years.”
“Why?” Charlie asked. “Who is this company, and why do they want you?”
And because she was so rattled, she finally dropped her guard.
“Universal Theorem. UT for short. I used to work there. When I got cancer, they thought I was dying, so they no longer considered me of value and dropped me. When I survived, they wanted me back. That’s all.”
Charlie had never heard of them—but then he’d never heard of Carter Dunleavy until he was hired to find him. He needed to get out in the world more.
Carter had been quiet through all of this until he heard her mention UT.
“Are you that good?” Carter asked.
Wyrick froze. Charlie didn’t know squat about UT, but Carter obviously did as he revealed by asking that question.
She shrugged it off. “Obviously. However, we need to save this for another time.”
She gathered up what she’d dropped and put it inside her car, then got down on her knees. She found the tracking device he’d put under the front wheel well, another beneath the rear wheel well and one under her front bumper. She dropped them on the concrete and stomped them until they shattered.
“I’ll meet you at the hangar,” she said, then jumped in her Mercedes and peeled out.
* * *
Charlie watched until she disappeared. He went back to get their luggage, loaded it into his Jeep. He said nothing until they were out of the garage and back on city streets.
“Hey, Carter.”
“Yes?”
“What is Universal Theorem?”
“Their public face is a think tank of some of the most brilliant minds in the world,” he said.
Charlie thought about the abilities he’d witnessed over her time in his office, and wondered what other marvels she was hiding.
“So what’s behind the public face?” Charlie asked, as he negotiated moving into another lane to take the next on-
ramp to the freeway.
“Oh, there are always rumors, but no one knows for sure, although I’m certain Wyrick does.”
“What kind of rumors?” Charlie asked.
Carter was silent for a moment. “Rumors about medical experiments. About gene-splicing and manipulating DNA, most of which is still illegal. But as you know, when you have enough money and power, you can rise above legalities. There was talk some years back that they’d sidestepped using lab rats and the like, and were experimenting on human embryos.”
Charlie was silent, wondering how Wyrick fit into all of that, and was beginning to understand why she wanted nothing to do with them again. They’d left her to die and when she didn’t, they wanted her genius back.
“That’s cold,” Charlie finally said. “And all kinds of wrong.”
Carter shrugged. “But that’s all speculation and rumors.”
Charlie nodded.
Carter shoved his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have the words to express how much I appreciate all the effort you two are making on my behalf. I know I’m paying you, but I’ve paid thousands of people over the years to do jobs for me, and none of them have gone to the extent you have, Charlie Dodge. I won’t forget it.”
* * *
Miranda had cried for what felt like hours, until she was disgusted with herself for being this hurt. She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t stupid. She could find someone else.
She rolled off the bed and went into her bathroom to wash her face, grimacing at what she saw. Her eyes were red, swollen and streaked with black from the mascara she’d cried away. Her cheeks were tear streaked and puffy, so she began to clean herself up. Except that now, without makeup, she felt she looked like some long-ago European peasant woman with pink cheeks and a ruddy complexion. She made a face at herself and went back to her sitting room. She needed to eat something or she’d just fall asleep again. She called down to the cook, asked for soup and a sandwich, and then turned on the TV for something to do while she waited for her food.
She channel surfed for shows to watch, but she never watched daytime television and had no idea what the programming was like. So she chose one of the local stations to see what was going on in Denver.
