by Kristi Lea
She rolled her eyes. “Why haven’t you turned me in yet?”
He pointed at his bandaged shoulder. “Because of this. I was given a personal order to sit and watch your gate the night I got shot, and now I’m on probation for whatever supposedly happened in that alley. Internal affairs has the video recording from my car locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Someone’s after my life or my career, or both. And it all started because of your necklace. What the hell is so damned important about this thing? You have two minutes left.”
Jessica squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the image that came to mind of Noah lying face down in the alley, not breathing. She couldn’t bear the thought of the death of another good man. Not because of her.
“It’s a fake.”
His eyes shuttered at her words. No anger, no surprise. Instead, he tipped his chair back and reached for his cell phone. “I’ve seen your insurance records after that make-believe theft. I know it’s a fake. One minute left.”
Jessica shook her head, panic gripping her midsection. “No. I mean yes. They’re both fakes. There were two copies of that necklace. The one from the safe had real stones. Real diamonds. The one in that envelope is a complete phony. It’s all cubic zirconium and lab-created junk.”
He seemed to digest that for a long moment. “This is what Senator Wilson’s thugs were after, isn’t it?”
Close enough. She nodded.
He straightened, and the legs of his chair cracked hard on the ceramic floor.
Jess jumped at the sound, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “I don’t buy it, Jess. Why didn’t you just hop your plane to the Caymans?”
“I don’t trust the staff.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Down in the Caymans. They aren’t permanent employees, just from a local service, and there are different workers there every time I’m there. One of them would have sold me out. You saw the rabbit in my dressing room. That wasn’t the first threat I’ve had the last few weeks. Someone wants to kill me.”
“I saw you running for your life in that alley. If Wilson wants the necklace bad enough to threaten you, why bring it right to him?” he fired back
“I didn’t bring the necklace with me. It was here all along.”
“What is the point of all this? You ride halfway across the country in a bus to collect a piece of worthless jewelry while trying to avoid your lover and his thugs who want to steal it from you. Do they even know the necklace is a fake? What the hell were you planning to do next? Hop another bus back to LA and pretend you never left? What are you going to do with a copy of a fake necklace anyway?”
She pushed back from the table and stood up. “I just want to leave. To go somewhere where Grant Wilson, and the Enquirer, and the FBI, and everyone else in this god forsaken country can’t find me. I am tired of the games. I am tired of the media circus. I just wanted a normal life.”
“You have three hundred fourteen dollars in cash, plus a single change of clothes and a piece of costume jewelry. How far do you think you’ll get? Louisville?”
Jessica crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself, trying to calm the chills that ran up her spine. She didn’t trust Noah not to arrest her, not yet. True he had driven her across the state and fed her and generally treated her well. But he was still a cop. And she was still a criminal. “There is a safe deposit box here in town. It has my passport and some money in it. Charles insisted that we keep it just in case. If I can get to the box, I can leave.”
“They will be watching the borders. Passport or no, you’re not leaving the country without someone knowing about it.”
“You mean Jessica Kingsbury isn’t leaving the country without you knowing about it. Please let me go. What possible good will it do to arrest me? Any trial will be a media spectacle, right up until they find my body floating in the Pacific.”
“This is where your story falls apart. Why would the Senator want to kill you? Your affair is yesterday's news. If something did happen to you, then the press would drag that whole mess out again.”
Jess's whole body shook so hard that she was afraid the chair would begin rattling underneath her. “I don't know if Wilson is the one trying to kill me. But I do know why he wants the necklace.”
Noah leaned in closer. Close enough that she could smell the crisp scent of hotel soap, and the hint of coffee on his breath. His brown eyes were lit up, focused. The excitement of the chase, she thought. On some men, that expression terrified her, but on Noah it fascinated. He won't stop until he solves this case.
“I will make you a deal. Take me to my safe deposit box, and I will tell you the secret of that necklace.”
“Just this necklace? What about the other two?”
She gathered her remaining scraps of bravado like so many hairs pulled from a brush. “If you let me leave and don't come after me, I will tell you the secret of all three.”
***
From the narrow strip mall cell phone shop, Noah could see most of the discount women’s' clothing store across the walkway where Jess rummaged through racks of clothes. If he was going to take her to the bank—still a big “if” in his mind—then she needed to at least have something clean to wear.
He idly checked out the display of pre-paid phones. “Try Before You Buy” shouted the orange and purple sign over a Plexiglas stand with a demo model leashed to the table.
He pulled out the sheet of hotel stationary where he'd scribbled Cole's sister's phone number. He had yanked the battery out of his own phone, and hadn't dared to call from the hotel.
It took no time for Analise to get her brother on the phone.
“Tell me you're back in LA.” Cole’s voice sounded tight, his words clipped.
Noah hesitated. “Well...”
“Shit.” There was a sound in the background like a door slamming.
“What's going on, Cole?”
“Cutlass has been pacing around the office looking like warhead about to explode. He says he's left a bunch of messages for you. Wants you in the office to give a statement for the investigation.”
“Did you remind him that I’m on leave?”
“Do you think it would have helped?
Noah snorted. “What did you say?”
“Only that you'd mentioned heading for the mountains for fresh air. He about went ballistic when I couldn't produce a hotel room number.”
“Huh. Sounds like him. The guy has a coronary if someone takes thirty seconds too long to piss.” Noah scanned across the walkway into the store. Jess had an armful of clothes on hangers and seemed to be inspecting price tags.
“There's more. A friend of mine from the academy works in internal affairs. He asked me what all the secrecy was about your file. Turns out, no one's been given clearance to investigate anything. Cutlass has everything sealed up tight. So the line about wanting you to report for a debrief is utter bullshit. And he put in a request for your phone records. I assume your cell is off?”
A chill settled over Noah. “Uh, yeah.”
“Noah, man, I don't know what kind of shit pile you fell into. And I don't want to know where you are, OK? How's your shoulder?”
“It’s been better, but I'll live. Can you look into something for me?”
“Depends on what it is.”
Jess had piled her choices on the counter and pulled out the small roll of cash to pay. Time to get off the phone. Noah motioned to the sales clerk and pointed to the phone he was talking on, then held up three fingers. He pulled cash out of his wallet as the clerk reached under the counter for three small boxes.
“Remember how Cutlass was making a big stink about his DC connections?”
“Sure.” Cole's voice sounded doubtful.
“Can you track those down? Figure out who he might be trying to impress. See if you find any familiar faces.”
“Done. What should I do if I find something?”
Noah smiled at
the cell phone clerk as he accepted the plastic package with his new phones in it. “Nothing. If my vacation takes any...interesting turns, I will give you a call. Maybe we could compare notes. I should go.”
“Take care, man.”
***
Jessica caught a glimpse of herself in the glass doors of the bank. With a pair of plain business-like trousers, loose fitting short-sleeved cardigan, high-necked shell, black shoulder tote bag, and flat-heeled loafers, she could almost pass for an average career woman on her lunch break. Dear heaven, she hoped so. With a stop at a discount hairdresser, the type where you can walk in without an appointment, she had her quick chop-job of a mane evened up and the color changed. She didn't look bad as a dusty blonde.
Her hands were cold with sweat and her stomach churned as she was led to the private room where she could view her safe deposit box. She caught furtive looks from some of the tellers, and tried to smile at them as though this particular bank service was as routine as cashing a Friday paycheck.
They had to know that it was anything but routine. Most of the boxes kept in the special division here were anything but routine.
The box had no key and she had no ID. Thankfully, there was also no account number to memorize.
Charles knew her, knew how numbers seemed to shift and rotate when she looked at them, and had found a safe place where all she had to produce to the staff was her own private code phrase. “Cadmium red and phthalo blue”. Paint colors, she could keep straight.
As she closed the door of the viewing room behind her, she felt alone for the first time in two days. Noah and his car waited in the parking lot. Like the getaway driver in a heist.
She figured he had his buddies on speed dial. She had fifteen minutes to re-appear or he would call her in.
The safe deposit box sat on a wooden table, and looked like a hotel safe. It wasn't very big—maybe a foot wide by a foot-and-a-half deep. She took a deep breath and looked at the hardest part: the combination lock. This part did involve numbers, though there were letters printed above each key on the keypad. Carefully, she typed in the letters of her last password, “rose”.
With a small metallic click, the lid released. Inside, there was another box, this one a sturdy black hardboard with a metal tag holder, just like Charles used to have in his office for organizing papers. She lifted it out and opened the lid, ignoring the lump that formed at the back of her throat.
Inside were three different passports—two American and one South African, all with her picture. One even had a stamp inside, as though the make-believe Jessica had traveled to Thailand with it. She stuffed those in the bottom of her purse, along with a small manila envelope full of cash. There was another envelope full of legal-sized papers, a USB thumb drive, a jeweler's box that contained a pair of diamond stud earrings that she didn't recognize, and a sealed letter with her name on it.
Charles' handwriting.
She glanced at the inexpensive watch on her wrist. Two minutes until Noah called in the cavalry. She would read the letter later—on her way to freedom.
Chapter 14
Jessica slid into the front seat of the dark gray rental car and buckled her seatbelt. Noah didn’t say a word as he pulled out of the lot. She fiddled with the hem of her cardigan and stared out the window as the small city scenes passed her by. Grocery stores vied for frontage with pharmacies, liquor, discount clothing. A hunting supply place offering two-for-one on shotgun ammunition.
It was the kind of shabby lower-middle-class neighborhood that she had spent her teenage years resenting. The kind of place where folks spent their days slaving in a factory or waiting tables or driving trucks, and their nights blowing their modest paychecks on cigarettes and booze and cheap discount store junk, and wondered why they never got ahead in life. The kind of place she’d fled.
And if it hadn’t been for her late husband, she would have landed somewhere far worse.
They passed a green highway exit sign but kept to the main drag. Surprised, Jess glanced at Noah. He drove one-handed, keeping his hurt arm down. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Don’t you want to know what I found in the safe deposit box?”
“Later.” He slowed to a stop at the traffic light and scanned the cross street.
“Do you need me to look up where the airport is? I think there’s a map in the glove box.”
“Not yet.” The light turned to green and Noah put on the blinker to move the right hand lane.
The commercial district was thinning out, with longer stretches of grassy lots in between parking lots and retail changing to warehouse and light industrial buildings. The busy thoroughfare stretched into a divided two-lane highway winding its way toward the mountains.
Jess bit her bottom lip. He drove like a man on a lazy Sunday afternoon, in no hurry to pass anyone. But where was he going? Was he driving her to the feds now? Had he changed his mind about taking her to the airport?
“Hang on.” He ground the words out half a breath before yanking the steering wheel hard to the left and jamming on the accelerator.
The jolt shoved Jess into the door despite her seatbelt as their car squealed through a vicious U-turn cutting across three lanes of traffic to the other side of the grassy median. Angry horns blared around them as he gunned the engine and wove them through the traffic at what had to be twice the speed limit.
Noah craned his neck around briefly and muttered something under his breath. He sped up even further, jerking Jess towards the center console fast enough to make her seatbelt lock.
Stomach roiling, head pounding, breath coming fast and hard. Jess tried to get her bearings, but the streets were flying by too fast. “What’s happening?”
“Get down. We’re being followed.” He had his gun holster in his lap.
He jerked the car to the right, turning down another side street. Jess squeezed her eyes shut and hunched down in her seat, hanging on to the door handle as hard as she could.
Something scratched against the side of the car and she peeked up only to see low hanging branches slapping her side of the front windshield for a moment before the hot blue sun replaced it. She closed them again.
“Come on. Come on.” Noah jerked the steering wheel around another wild turn, and then skidded the car into reverse. Pavement turned to gravel, crunching and pinging off the bottom of the car.
Finally the car jolted to a stop and Noah killed the engine.
Jess took in a ragged breath and pushed herself back up with shaking hands. They were behind a metal building on a weedy gravel parking lot. A line of scrub brush hid the view of the road where Jess could hear traffic sounds. She let the breath out, but the blood still pounded in her ears. “Where are we?”
“Hidden, I hope.” He had his gun out and ready. Not aimed at the window, but his fingers wrapped around the handle had a light tension that she sensed meant business. She licked her parched lips with a tongue that felt like glue, and glanced away from the weapon up to his face.
“How do you know we were being followed?”
He took off his sunglasses and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve before answering. “Well, for starters, they followed us through that U-turn.”
Jess gulped. “Do you think you lost them?”
Noah blew out a breath. “About three blocks back was an exit to the freeway. With a little luck, they’ll think we are on our way to Knoxville.”
“We need to get out of Tennessee.”
He quirked one side of his lips. “Working on it.”
She shook her head. “No, Now. Wilson is too well connected. He has friends on every major police force, state troopers, you name it. It’s a good ol’ boys network down here. They trade hunting lodges and their wives serve on each other’s charity committees. If we stay here, he will find us. If he finds us, he will kill us.”
The hum and rattle of a car engine on the road beyond the bushes slowed to a stop not twenty feet from where they sat parked. They c
ouldn’t see it, but Jess could hear the crunching of tires on dirt. She held her breath. Noah held the gun.
A car door slammed. Voices, arguing back and forth. Jess fought a wave of panic that curled around her chest and squeezed.
Noah tossed a look her way. In his eyes she recognized the steel-edged focus shadowed by something. Concern? Surely not fear. He jerked his head briefly to the floor, motioning her down.
There was a sound of leaves rustling, and Jess crouched lower in the car, eyeing the door handle. Inside the car, they were an easy target, nothing to do but sit. Outside, there was no cover. Nothing to do but run.
One of the voices made a sound like a groan, and Jess made out a sound like a hiss or like running water? After a long moment, they heard the car door slam again, and the car motor revved as it pulled away.
Jess slumped. She barely registered Noah putting his gun in the car’s center console.
“Why does Senator Wilson want you dead?’
***
Noah waited, his question hanging taut between them. Jessica’s face was too pale around the edges with bright spots of pink on her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell with a rhythm that was too fast and too irregular. And when she turned to meet his gaze, her eyes were slightly unfocused. Haunted by the thought of her own death, or by memories, he wasn’t sure.
He was becoming less and less sure that he wanted to hear her answers.
The woman sitting in his car had greater depths than any photograph could ever hope to reveal. Her body was beautiful, no doubt. Even wearing ordinary clothes and no fancy makeup, she moved like a woman who knew her body. Knew the swing of her own hips, the subtle bounce of her breasts, the tilt of her chin. It was obvious to him that she spent her life in front of one camera after another.
The touch of her fingers as she changed the bandage on his arm had revealed so much more than any picture ever could. She was skilled, confident, caring, but practical. She had engineered her own escape from the FBI and the paparazzi. No mean feat.
