by Liliana Hart
“You need to tell me what happened. The truth and every bit of it this time. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I did it. I killed him.”
Jack pushed her water glass toward her and she wrapped shaky hands around it, bringing it to her lips. “Just start at the beginning. When did you start having a relationship with Caine?”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “He started coming around after John died, kind of like you and a couple of the others did. He’d fix things around the house or run errands if I needed anything and was stuck at the hospital with Katie. He was just so nice and I started to rely on him to be there. Nothing happened between us for years because I was a mess after John died. But then one day I woke up and realized Andrew was there, and I finally saw him as something more than a friend.”
“You loved him,” I said.
She nodded and another tear slid down her cheek. “We became lovers, but something wasn’t right. He was secretive and I knew he lied to me sometimes about the things he was doing or where he was going. He always said he was working and wouldn’t tell me anything more, but I knew it was more than that.
“He asked me to meet him that day at the motel room. I thought he was trying to be romantic. I thought he might ask me to marry him.” Her breath hitched and her lips trembled as she tried to get control of herself. “But he didn’t. He said he was being followed and that it wasn’t safe, so that’s why we had to meet like that. Then he told me what he’d found out. He said that you killed John.”
Jane’s gaze bore into Jack’s eyes as she said it, daring him to deny it. “Is it true?”
Jack didn’t look away from her when he answered. “It’s true.”
“I slapped him when he told me that,” she said. “Asked him why he was trying to hurt me with lies, but he wouldn’t stop talking. He said John had been a traitor and that he’d been working with the men who’d tried to rob the bank.
“He started asking questions about WMF just like you did. He knew about the payments they’d been giving me, and he wanted to know what they’d asked me to do in return. He asked me if I’d known what John had been involved in all along. If I knew that WMF had helped fund the operation that had killed John.”
“He asked that specifically?” Jack asked.
She nodded without looking at Jack.
“And were they?”
“I didn’t know that John was involved with those people. I swear I didn’t. Not until after he died. Then they came to me and told me I was theirs now.”
“Who came to you?”
“A woman named Genny Boxer. She said her son was killed with John during the robbery. She said I was theirs and I belonged to them now. That they’d be there for me during my grief and through the rest of it. And they said that I owed them because they’d saved Katie’s life.”
“Are you saying that WMF owns the Kids with Cancer charity?” I asked.
“I don’t know if it’s their charity, but I know that’s where the anonymous donation came from and the instructions were that it had to go to us for Katie’s treatment.”
“Give me a second, Jane. You’re doing the right thing.” Jack took out his phone and hit a number for speed dial.
“Carver,” he said once the call was connected. “You need to send someone to pick up Genny Boxer. She’s the one who initially contacted Jane to meet. And dig harder into the Kids with Cancer Foundation. Jane confirms that the money came from WMF. See if it’s just an offshoot of the same fund. We’re going to need a safe house for Jane and her children. Get that set up too.”
Jack was silent for a couple of seconds, listening to whatever it was Carver was saying on the other end and then he said goodbye.
The look on Jane’s face was devastating. She’d heard about the safe house, and it was starting to sink in what a dangerous position she was in.
“Oh my God, Jack. They’ll kill me. And the girls. You have to send someone to my mother’s house right now. Have someone get them and take them away.” Hysteria tinged her voice and the color seeped back into her face. Jane Elliott’s children were her strength and it was coming back with a vengeance at the thought of them being hurt.
“It’s already being taken care of,” he said. “The FBI is sending agents as we speak to get the girls and your mother to a safe place. They’ll take you as soon as we’re done here.”
“Take me to prison, you mean.” Her breath shuddered out and she stared at her hands, as if she could still see Caine’s blood on them.
“Just finish it out and tell me the rest. We’ll figure out what happens next.”
“I was so angry,” she said, tightening her hands into fists. “I knew what Caine was saying was true. When Genny first came to speak to me she didn’t tell me the details of what had happened and how John died. But I knew it was bad. That he’d done something wrong. And then Caine told me you were the one who killed him and I just went crazy. How could you do that? He was your friend.
“How could you!” Her hand cracked against Jack’s cheek like a whip, and her elbow knocked her water glass over so it spilled across the table. She crumpled and her body shook with harsh sobs. The manager started to make his way across the restaurant to us, but the look on my face had him turning away.
I felt the waves of hurt coming from Jack and knew he blamed himself everyday for John’s death. For not suspecting that he’d been dirty and for firing the shot that had ended his life, even though he’d had no choice. But he didn’t defend himself to Jane. I didn’t have any problem defending him. I didn’t care what Jane Elliott had suffered. She didn’t have the right to blame Jack for anything.
“Don’t ever touch him again like that or I’ll cut you in two,” I said, my voice hoarse with anger. “Jack did what he had to do.” I wasn’t going to stand by and let him take the blame when he’d done nothing wrong. “He almost died that day too. And by your husband’s hand.”
“It’s okay, Jaye—” Jack said, squeezing my thigh.
“No it’s not, but I’ve made my point.” I clamped my mouth shut before I said anything else I might regret.
“What happened next, Jane?”
“Andrew told me he would prove he was telling me the truth. That he had the documentation and that he was going to go to the FBI with the information. So he left me in the motel and told me he’d be back in an hour. I didn’t know what else to do, so I called them. They told me I had to if anyone ever asked about the foundation. They said they owned me. They’d paid for me. And they said they could take it all away just as easily as they’d given. They never said it, but I knew that meant they’d kill us if we betrayed them. I had to protect my children.”
She bowed her head and started crying again and Jack took my hand in his under the table. I was tired, and I wanted nothing more than to leave this place and never set eyes on Jane Elliott again. She was weak and a disgrace, and she was just as much to blame for the murders of Jack’s men as anyone.
“Finish it out, Jane. Who did you call?”
She was resigned now as she answered. “I called Genny. She’s my contact. There’s a chain of command.”
“Then what happened?”
“I relayed all the information that Caine had told me and that he was going to get proof. Genny hung up the phone and maybe fifteen minutes later I got another call. The woman didn’t identify herself, but I could tell by the way she spoke that she was the one in charge. She knew things about me. Personal things that she wouldn’t have known unless I’d been under surveillance.”
“Do you have your phone on you now?” Jack asked. “Is it the same one you had then?”
Jane dug through her purse and held up the phone. “It’s the same.”
“It’s possible we can trace the callers. It’ll give us something besides circumstantial evidence.”
She handed it over and Jack stuck it into his shirt pocket.
“What did she say to you?”
Her breath hitched against and quiet sobs shook her body. “She said that I had to kill him. Kill Andrew. I was still so angry and hurt by the things he’d said, and she played on that. She told me he was setting me up and that everyone would think that John died a traitor if I believed his lies. She told me that was all my girls would remember about their father, and she said the only reason Andrew had been sleeping with me was because he thought I was just as guilty as John and needed to get close to me to prove it. She said a man like him would never be interested in a woman like me otherwise.
“I—I believed her.” Jane’s eyes were drenched and searching, as if she wanted us to understand why she took a knife to a man. “And then she reminded me that the organization owned me and I had no choice but to do what she said or face the consequences. She said my girls had sure looked cute walking to school that morning. She even described what they’d been wearing.” Another choked sob broke through and she covered her face with her hands.
“Andrew came back to the room a little while later with a legal size envelope full of papers. I told him I didn’t need to see them. That I believed him and that I was sorry.” She swiped the tears from her face and managed to look up at us, and her lips trembled as she tried to gather herself. “He told me he loved me and that he would protect me, but all I could think about was what would happen to my children if I didn’t do what she said.
“Andrew always carried that big knife in his bag, and he’d left it in the room with me. So while he was gone I put it under the pillow and knew there was only one way to kill him. He was a big man, and I knew I couldn’t overpower him. So I seduced him instead.” Jane looked at her hands again like they didn’t belong to her. They were fine boned, delicate, and smooth. Hardly the hands of a killer.
“So I did it.” The words barely came out as a whisper. “I did it for my children and I live with the nightmares of the surprise in his eyes as he realized what was happening.” She laid her head down on the table and her entire body shook as she wept.
“It’s too late for all that now, Jane.” Jack’s voice was sharp, and I could feel the anger vibrating from him. He no longer felt sympathy for this woman—pity, yes—but not sympathy. “Who came to help you get cleaned up?”
Jane sat up but slumped in her seat, defeated. “I’m so sorry, Jack. Don’t be angry with me. Please. I need your help.”
“Then finish it out.”
“I don’t know who they were. I was so scared. In shock. And there was so much blood. It was everywhere. I got sick and had to run to the bathroom. All I could think about was getting the blood off. I climbed in the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go, and then I just laid there as Andrew’s blood washed down the drain.”
Her voice was almost robotic now as she relayed the rest of the events. “Two women showed up out of nowhere. I don’t know how they got in the motel room, but they were just there all of a sudden. They wore gray jumpsuits and they doused me in some kind of chemical. It got all the blood off, but it burned my skin. But not even the pain really got through to me.
“They cleaned the drains and used the same chemical on the bathroom to clean up all the blood and my handprints. They wrapped my hair in a protective cap and dressed me in a jumpsuit to match theirs. They put gloves on my hands and plastic booties on my feet, and then we went back into the room where Andrew was.
“It didn’t even seem real. He just lay there on the bed, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And God—the blood. I wanted to be sick again, but I wasn’t. All I could do was stare at his body and try to come to the terms with the fact that I was the one who’d done that. I honestly don’t even remember holding the knife. It’s like it was someone else.”
I shook my head in disbelief. When she went to trial she’d probably say that exact thing to give her a chance at diminished capacity. My anger was rising by the minute, and I wanted nothing more than to put my fist through something. But Jack rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb and I knew he wanted me to keep silent for just a little while longer while she got the rest of it out. I remembered then that Carver had asked Jack to keep his line open. She was making a full recorded confession.
“They cleaned the knife and all the surrounding areas with the cleaner and then they planted strands of hair and other things on his body. I was told they paid off the office manager and a couple of vagrants across the street to say they’d seen Andrew go in the room with another woman. A blond prostitute. Witnesses came forward from a bar down the street and said they’d seen him leave with a woman who matched the same description as the one the manager and vagrants gave. These people have so much power. You understand now why I don’t like to leave my house.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
I felt sick inside and I could only imagine how Jack felt. This was more than personal to him. “Did Andrew have a tattoo?” I asked her.
“Not by the time we started sleeping together. But there was a scar on his back, just above his shoulder blade where he said he’d had one removed. I knew it was the same one you all had. The one that matched John’s. Andrew didn’t want me to see it and remember John. Remember that they’d been as close as brothers once. So he had it removed. For me.”
“Can you give me a description of the women who cleaned you up at the motel?”
Jane had control of herself now, as if confessing her sins had lifted a weight off her shoulders, and she trusted Jack when he said he’d help her. She was just about to answer when the front windows of the restaurant exploded. Shards of glass and wood flew toward us and people screamed as the air filled with acrid smoke.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Down! Down!” Jack yelled as he threw me bodily to the floor. “Try not to breathe and crawl back toward the kitchen.”
My eyes watered from the tear gas and I started crawling while Jack covered me protectively. I looked back to see if Jane was behind us, but all I saw was smoke. Blood rushed in my ears so the screams and coughs of the other people were muted. My hands and knees bled as I crawled across broken glass, but I kept moving forward.
I coughed as we crawled through the swinging doors to the kitchen, but breathed in the fresh air as soon as it was available.
“Where’s Jane?” I choked out. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I noticed Jack had his weapon out and trained at the door, though his eyes were red and watery as well.
“She didn’t make it. A shot came in with the tear gas. It was long range and directed at Jane. Someone didn’t want her to talk.”
“Oh, my God.” I realized then how close Jack had come to dying. If Tydell had been able to get a second shot off then Jack would be just as dead as Jane. He was a target, and nothing was going to stop these men until they’d met their goals.
The kitchen was in chaos. Food had been left on the stove and was burning in pots and pans. Dishes had been dropped and plates lay broken on the floor.
“We need to get out of here. The police will take care of the people out front. Tydell’s shot hit its target, but they’re not going to want to let me go since I’m already here and separated from my protection. Stay close behind me. Do you have your gun?”
“I’ve got it.” I’d gotten in the habit of carrying it in my jacket pocket instead of my purse whenever I was out in public. I grabbed the gun and felt the weight of it in my hand. I wasn’t sure how accurate I’d be because my eyes still watered and my vision was blurry, but it made me feel better to have it just in case.
Just in case happened before we made it to the kitchen door that led to the area where trucks unloaded the food. All I saw was a blur out of the corner of my eye right before Jack crashed into a rack of cookware with the weight of a man dressed in BDUs on top of him. Jack’s gun skidded across the floor and my heart stopped as the other man pulled a knife long and sharp enough to cut to the bone with one slice. I knew without an introduction that I was looking at Lester Grimm. And he was here to kill us.
The man was heavier than J
ack, but Jack managed to use his leverage to roll them across broken dishes and food. Metal shelving crashed down as they rolled. They moved too quickly. My gun was trained on them both, but they were so close together I couldn’t risk taking a shot without hitting Jack too.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” I prayed over and over again. My eyes still watered and the two of them blurred together as Jack struggled to dislodge the knife from the man’s hand. Their positions reversed again and Jack was on bottom. Both of his hands gripped around the wrist of the hand holding the knife, but it moved closer and closer to his neck, nicking the flesh so a thin stream of blood ran in a single rivulet. I didn’t have any choice but to try and take a shot or Jack would die right in front of my eyes. And then I’d be next.
I used my shirt to blot my eyes and try to clear them a little, but it didn’t help much. I decided to aim high and below the waist just in case my vision was worse off than I thought. I didn’t think as I pulled the trigger. Couldn’t think or I would’ve been paralyzed with the fear.
The gunshot echoed in the cavernous kitchen and I saw the man on top of Jack jerk slightly, but he didn’t lose his focus on the task of cutting Jack’s throat. I moved around to see if I could get a better angle and my eyes started watering again. Though this time it was with tears.
“Come on, Jaye.” The pep talk wasn’t working. My hand shook as I took aim again and I noticed the blood pooling beneath them from the wound in Grimm’s leg. I was afraid to fire again and was glad I didn’t when their bodies shifted and they rolled once more so Jack was on top. He slammed his elbow into Grimm’s nose and I heard the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage, and then I winced as Jack’s knee pressed into the man’s groin.
An unearthly scream filled the air and brought chills to my arms, and the sound of gagging filled the room. Jack slammed the hand holding the knife against the floor and the man grunted as his wrist broke and the knife slid across the floor.
