by Debra Webb
Alex read over the message. The apartment building was over in Carol City. She knew the place. “What’s the rush?” Not that she didn’t understand the need to get a cleanup done, considering the most likely source of the problem, but hurrying wouldn’t change the fact that someone was probably deceased.
“The guy lived on the second floor. Apparently he’s been dead for almost two weeks without anyone missing him. He might not have been missed at all if his downstairs neighbor hadn’t noticed something oozing from her kitchen ceiling.”
Ugh. Alex’s favorite kind of duty. “I’m on my way.”
She popped into the bathroom and took care of business, pulled her hair up into a ponytail and stared at her reflection, wondering what Fate had against her. She was reasonably intelligent and attractive, why was it that her primary skill appeared to be cleaning up after the dead? Somebody had to do it. That was her stock answer whenever she felt sorry for herself.
Maybe that was the reason her life had not taken the usual journey. Never had a husband. No kids. No serious relationships. Single and independent was what she’d wanted. Wasn’t it?
She thought about Hitch and what he’d wanted, a long-term relationship... a commitment. What if she’d chosen that path? What if she’d taken the chance?
She sighed. No risk, no regret.
She never second-guessed herself like this. Evidently the recent rash of deaths involving people who basically lived alone or had no one who looked in on them had gotten under her skin. Yeah, right. If only it were that simple. It was Hitch. Damn it.
Shaking off the depressing sentiment, she headed for Carol City. The sooner she dived into the apartment’s cleanup, the sooner she’d be done.
The building’s super led her to the first-floor apartment where the neighbor had discovered the leak in her ceiling. The fluids had seeped through the ceiling and oozed down the wall next to her kitchen table. She’d refused to return to the apartment until it was cleaned up and repainted.
No problem. Alex would have this place tiptop in no time.
The apartment on the second floor was a different story. The moment the super opened the door, the stench assaulted Alex’s olfactory. Though the body was gone, the unpleasant smell of decaying flesh and dissipating putrid gases had permeated the space. The tenant had been dead, according to what the M.E.’s office had told the super, at least twelve days. He’d died in his kitchen, lying on the floor, directly above the kitchen on the first level.
Twelve days. That was more than enough time for things to get ugly. Immediately after death the body temperature started to drop, and rigor mortis began only to reverse itself about two days later. After nearly two weeks putrefaction had already taken place and things were pretty much flat and creamy. The body fluids that escaped had seeped into everything, including the kitchen downstairs.
Alex donned her hazmat jumpsuit, gloves, et cetera, and went to work, cleaning not only every surface involved but also the air. The gases released by decomposing body fluids, such as spinal fluid, could be extremely toxic.
By the time she was finished with the clean up, the day had passed. The super planned to do the painting, which was fine by her. She loaded the hazmat bags containing the remains she would need to dispose of into the cargo area of her vehicle. The jumpsuit, gloves, and shoe covers she’d worn were bagged and ready to dump as well. It wasn’t quite five, she noted as she slid behind the wheel and drove away. She should probably go back by the office after she’d taken care of disposal. Or maybe she’d go talk to Hitch’s partner again and broach the subject of the contact lens and the house over on Morningside.
All she could do was try to convince him that something very wrong had gone down last night.
“Alex Jackson?”
Alex almost ran off the causeway at the sound of the male voice coming from her backseat.
Her fingers went automatically to the console and the pepper spray she kept there.
“Whoever the hell you are,” she warned, “this stuff is potent. I’m going to pull over.” She was already slowing, simultaneously moving toward the emergency lane. “And you’d better get the hell out as soon as I stop or you’ll regret it.”
“Wait! Please. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
She relaxed marginally. Okay, what kind of robber, rapist, or killer apologized?
“Who are you?” Though she’d eased off the brake and shifted her foot back to the accelerator, she kept her hand on her weapon.
He cleared his throat. “I’m going to sit up now. Don’t freak out, okay?”
“Okay.” What was he, a leper or something? He’d apologized for scaring her when he was the one who sounded terrified. Not to mention he’d prepared her for whatever she would see when he sat up. What kind of bad guy went to all that trouble?
Green eyes and sandy blond hair appeared in her rearview mirror. Young. Twenty-something, she guessed.
“Who are you?” she asked again, her fight defenses still firmly in place.
“Timothy O’Neill.”
Her surprise had her weaving into the left lane much to the dismay of the other drivers on the street. Horns blasted.
She let go of the spray can and allowed her right hand to rejoin her left on the steering wheel. At least she knew now why he’d warned her not to freak out. Her first thought was to ask why he’d been hiding in her car. Second was… hell, she didn’t know what. “I thought you were dead.”
What the hell was she supposed to do with him? Take him to the police? How had he found her? More importantly, why?
“I’m supposed to be,” he said quietly. He looked away when she would have made eye contact with him again. “It was a buddy of mine. Back at my house. He was pirating movies and—”
He abruptly shut up.
“Don’t worry,” she encouraged, “whatever your friend was doing doesn’t make any difference now.”
His jaw worked futilely a couple of times before anything actually came out. “Anyway, last night I was in the kitchen getting something to eat. I saw Detective Hitchcock’s car pull into the driveway. I mean,” he cleared his throat again, “I didn’t really see his car. It was dark. I saw the headlights, but I knew it was him. I was expecting him. When he came to the door he wasn’t alone.”
“His partner was with him?” She felt certain that wasn’t the case, but she needed to ask. She didn’t know Patton that well, but he was one of the good guys. Hitch had said as much plenty of times.
“My friend answered the door so I didn’t see the guy, but I heard his voice.” He shrank back into the rear seat, looking like a small boy rather than a grown man. “I don’t think it was his partner. Hitch was saying stuff like you won’t get away with this and leave the kid alone, he was just doing me a favor.”
A keen sense of anticipation zinged through Alex. She’d been right. Timothy O’Neill was the guy Hitch had visited last night. Apparently Hitch had met with someone else on his way to Timothy’s house. Why hadn’t he mentioned that to her? Her breath caught. He’d said he was getting another call before he said goodnight. Could that caller have been the man who killed him?
Since Hitch hadn’t been alone when he arrived, the guy with him had to be the caller. Someone he’d rendezvoused with after talking to Alex. Goose bumps spilled over her skin. “What did you do, Timothy?”
He was staring out the passenger side window now. “I knew the kid Hitch was talking about was me. He always called me kid.” His voice sounded distant. “I heard a scuffle and arguing in the living room so I hid. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I hid in the pantry. Hitch and the dude with him were arguing... and fighting, I think.”
Ten seconds passed before he spoke again. Alex’s heart pounded three times for each one.
“I just froze. I couldn’t move. My cell phone was in the living room with them so I couldn’t call anyone.”
Alex kept quiet. Let him continue in his own time. She picked up some speed, eased more fully into the flow of
traffic on the causeway and tried to focus on driving. Back to her office? Home? She couldn’t decide so she just drove.
“There was a lot of noise.”
Alex met his eyes in the mirror but he wasn’t looking at her. He was remembering.
“I figured the guy was tearing up my house. I could hear Lenny, my friend,” he explained. “He was yelling that he didn’t know what the guy was talking about. Hitch was saying something, but I couldn’t make out his words. The guy told him to shut up or he would take care of him right there. I knew we...”
When he fell silent Alex glanced up again, this time his gaze collided with hers in the mirror. “I knew we were all going to die.”
But he hadn’t, obviously.
“What did you do then?” she prompted when he remained silent for more miles than she could bear.
“I took a chance and sneaked out the back door.” He heaved a big breath. “Then I just ran. I tried to wake one of my neighbors so I could call the police but no one was home. Or she was in bed.” He scrubbed a hand over his pale face. “I made my way back to my house, would have gone back inside to try to stop whatever the hell was going on, but Hitch and the guy came out.”
“Did you see the guy’s face this time?” Adrenaline did a number on her pulse rate. This could prove Hitch’s accident was no accident.
“No.” The croaked word was barely audible. “It was dark and I couldn’t see from where I was hidden in the shrubs next door.” He released a shuddering breath. “He sort of dragged Hitch to the car.”
Alex’s breath caught on the ache in her chest. Hitch had already been hurt even before he was dragged back into his car.
“When they’d driven away, I started to go check on my friend....” Timothy blinked. “The house exploded right in front of me.”
Damn. “You okay?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Yeah. Sure. I couldn’t hear for a few hours but it’s better now.”
Fury burned through her. The guy had no doubt driven Hitch to the very place where he would die that night. The accident hadn’t been an accident at all. Someone had killed him. Someone who had something to do with Charlie Crane’s death and that damned contact lens. “We should go to the police.”
“No way.” Timothy sat forward. “Just let me out here. I’m not going to the police. Whoever the hell that guy was, Hitch couldn’t stop him. I’m not getting involved with this. No way. It’s too dangerous.”
He scooted to the passenger-side door.
Alex divided her attention between him and the traffic all around her. She had to calm him down. “Let me take you to my place. You’ll be safe there.”
“You don’t get it.” He looked ready to jump out the door with her moving fifty-five miles per hour. “This thing you gave Hitch is like poison. Anyone who touches it is going to end up dead.”
Shifting her full attention back to traffic, she tamped down the natural trepidation his words evoked. “What exactly is it?”
“Some kind of new technology storage device, works just like a computer only it’s tiny and somehow the brain issues commands through the optic nerve. I’ve heard rumors about that kind of stuff but I had no idea it existed yet. It has a shitload of classified information on it. Most of it’s encrypted, but I deciphered enough to understand what I was dealing with.”
“What kind of classified information?” She’d made up her mind. They were going to the cops. If she could keep him distracted long enough he might not even notice until they were there already at the precinct.
“Government stuff. The kind of data we civilians aren’t supposed to see if we want to stay alive.”
Government? Classified? She thought about Charlie Crane. He hadn’t exactly looked like the James Bond type. Then again, she’d never known a real-life spy.
“Let me out at the next light.”
“Look, Timothy.” She sped through the yellow light instead of slowing for the stop, afraid he’d make a run for it. She needed him. Without this guy Patton would never believe her. “We really need to go to the cops.”
He moved up close behind her seat again. “I just wanted to warn you. I figured you deserved a chance to save yourself since Hitch liked you so much.”
Her chest tightened. “If we don’t go to the police they won’t be able to find his killer.”
“I have to stay dead.” Their gazes locked in the rearview mirror once more. “It’s the only chance I’ve got of staying alive.” He reached over the seat and placed a small plastic sandwich bag on the console.
She didn’t have to look to know it was the lens she’d given to Hitch. “You had it on you when Hitch and the killer arrived?”
He nodded. “It was too important to leave laying around.”
Damn. This was even worse that she’d suspected. What was she supposed to do with it?
“Make the next right,” he instructed. “I have to disappear for awhile.”
Alex took the turn and found a place along the street to park. “Do you have a car?” If walking was his plan for disappearing, he needed to rethink his strategy.
“I’m good,” he told her without telling her anything at all. “Like I said, I would have disappeared already but I needed to warn you and give you back the device. You may need it and… I owed it to Hitch.”
“I appreciate that.” What next? She wished she could make him understand that going to the police was the only reasonable option.
“I don’t know what he might have gotten out of Hitch before he killed him,” Timothy cautioned, “but I wouldn’t take any chances. You should disappear, Alex. Or you could end up dead, too.”
Jesus, she hadn’t even thought of that. What if Hitch told the guy that she’d seen the contact lens? No. She was certain Hitch wouldn’t have done anything to endanger her. No way. He would have died first.
Emotion swelled in her throat. More of those damned tears burned her eyes.
“Timothy,” she countered with as much determination as she could muster, “we have to talk to Hitch’s partner.”
“You don’t get it,” he snapped, “if they know I’m still alive, if they figure out I’ve contacted you, we’re both dead.” He reached for the door handle. “I’ve done all I can do.”
Chapter 9
“Alex, Alex, Alex. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Wyatt had been following her since she left the cleanup job in Carol City. With the locator he’d placed on her vehicle, finding her again had been easy. Apparently the passenger had hidden in her SUV before Wyatt’s arrival. The instant he saw the guy sit up in her backseat, he went on alert.
Johnson’s interrogation had provided the intel Wyatt needed. He now knew at least one of the other players working with Crane, and he also knew the detective hadn’t had the device in his possession when he was killed by Johnson. Detective Hitchcock had left it with a hacker named Timothy O’Neill.
As soon as the passenger bounced out of Alex’s SUV, Wyatt recognized him as O’Neill. Wyatt exited his vehicle and started after the kid. He’d catch up with Alex later.
O’Neill cut into an alley. Wyatt followed.
The kid spotted him and started to run.
Wyatt sighed and broke into a sprint. “Give it up, O’Neill.”
O’Neill glanced back, then around before bursting into a harder run.
“Have it your way.”
That was the thing about guys like O’Neill, he might be young but he spent all his time hunkered over a gadget or a computer. With one final push forward, Wyatt lunged for him. They went down. Wyatt pinned him to the ground. The kid struggled, but only for a moment.
“Let me go!”
“No can do,” Wyatt warned.
O’Neill screamed. Wyatt clamped a hand over his mouth. “Mr. O’Neill, we need to talk. Can I trust you to cooperate?”
His eyes wide with fear, his heart pounding so hard Wyatt could feel it, the kid bobbed his chin.
“I don’t want to h
urt you.” Wyatt had no desire to nail anyone else to the floor or to start breaking bones one by one. “I have one question for you. Answer it truthfully and I’ll see that you’re protected until this is over.”
O’Neill nodded again.
“Good. Now, listen carefully. I’m only going to ask you once.”
The kid stared at him expectantly.
“Where is the device?” Wyatt cautiously removed his hand.
“You swear you won’t hurt her?” O’Neill blurted. She’s a really nice lady.”
Wyatt closed his fingers around the kid’s throat. “Did you miss the part where I said I was only going to ask once?”
“Alex Jackson. I gave it to her! She was the one who found it anyway.”
Chapter 10
Alex sat on her closed toilet lid and stared at the contact lens, storage device, whatever the hell it was that Timothy O’Neill had given back to her. It was rubberlike and clear except for the metallic rim. Nothing like the usual sort of contact lens.
The words government, classified, encrypted kept whirling in her thoughts, getting all mixed up with the idea that this tiny gadget had gotten her friend as well as at least one other person killed.
And it was her fault.
If she hadn’t found it… if she’d just tossed the damned eyeball.
But she hadn’t. She’d done her job and now Hitch was dead. The worst part was that no one seemed to be aware of how and why he’d really died. To say no one cared would be wrong. Hitch had too many friends, including his partner. But no one had ruled out the “accident” assumption and moved forward with a real investigation.
She stared at the phone she’d been clutching since she’d come into the bathroom. Doing nothing was wrong. She had to do something. Holding her breath, she entered Patton’s number. She knew it by heart after more than an hour of sitting here trying to decide if she should call him or not.
Most likely he’d think she was crazy, but she had to do this for Hitch. He deserved justice, by God.
