Never Kissed Goodnight

by Edie Claire

  "I want to go see Trudy, as soon as we dock. Will you go with me?"

  Leigh blinked. "Of course, if you think it will help."

  Cara nodded. "I want Gil to take Mathias home, but I don't want to go to the hospital alone. And I think Trudy will be less intimidated by you than my mother, don't you?"

  Leigh surveyed her cousin's eyes, which were sparkling again for the first time in days. "Maybe. You feeling…better?"

  Cara turned away. "I'm managing," she said flatly. "Gil insisted we take not one, but two security guards with us, so we should be fine. Do you think Warren will mind?"

  Probably. Leigh waited until the riverboat was almost at the dock before mentioning the field trip. Warren was in high spirits, and she wanted him to enjoy it as long as he could. After buttering him up with a brief necking session on the top deck she launched rapidly into the plan, careful to mention the 1:1 guard-to-woman ratio and the fact that the whole thing was Maura's idea.

  He frowned throughout. "Two days ago I left you safely ensconced in our apartment under the capable care of Sergeant Frances Koslow, and you still managed to get shot at. And now you're taking off with the world's second strongest calamity magnet? I don't like it."

  She smiled. "I love it when you're overprotective, really I do, but you know this is something we should do."

  He frowned again. "Let me come too, then."

  "No way," she argued. "I heard Heather say everyone was heading out for drinks afterward—and you need to be there, at least for a while. You've got your cell phone, Cara has hers. We'll go straight back to the farm and you can pick me up there later."

  He gritted his teeth, but said nothing.

  "Great," she smiled. The gangplank was in place, and the passengers were starting to unload. She gave him a quick kiss and took off. "And by the way—" she said over her shoulder. "Maura is definitely seeing someone. You need to find out who."

  A devious smile flickered over his face, and she stopped cold. "Warren Harmon!" she screeched. "You already know, don't you? Tell me! I know him, don't I?"

  He had the nerve to laugh. "You'll find out when Maura's ready to tell you," he said slyly. "I see that Cara's down there waiting for you. Better get a move on."

  She delivered one last, perturbed glare and went to join her cousin.

  ***

  "This is Dan," Cara said pleasantly, "And this is Ed. They are under the strictest orders not to let us out of their sight, poor things."

  Leigh nodded a greeting to the mobile-home sized gentleman who had attached himself to her side. He smiled back politely, rotating his head on a square device that was supposed to be a neck.

  "Dan is Trent's brother," Cara continued. "You know, the PI? Dan and Ed played football together at Penn State." Leigh looked at the solid young black man who towered over Cara, wondering how he could possibly share a gene pool with the skinny, intellectual fellow she'd bumped heads with at the bus station. "Okay," she said with amusement. "I feel safe. Let's roll."

  Dan insisted on doing the driving, and since Cara was the only person Leigh had ever known to have a worse driving reputation than herself, that was fine. In no time their escorts had delivered them to the high-security wing of Allegheny Central, where Maura had had Trudy moved to as soon as Torr was suspected of the attack. The guards then waited patiently in the corridor while Cara and Leigh slipped inside the small room.

  Trudy Dublin didn't look much better, but as her alert eyes riveted immediately towards her estranged niece, it was clear she was feeling better. The corners of her mouth wrinkled in an odd arrangement that, barring the metal in her jaw, might be a smile.

  "Hello," Cara said amiably, sitting down on the foot of the bed. "It's good to see you again. I was sorry to hear you were in the hospital."

  Leigh stood a few steps away, not wanting to interfere. Her cousin, who had always been skilled at making people feel at ease, launched easily into a rambling line of chit chat that bore no witness whatsoever to their rocky meeting of yore. Trudy spoke only a few words, but her eyes spoke volumes. She seemed very pleased to see her niece again. And, Leigh was increasingly sure, she also wanted something.

  After Cara had talked for a while, Trudy raised a hand and began—slowly—to ask a question. "Have. You—" Every word seemed painful. "Seen. Mason?"

  Cara's back straightened. "No," she said calmly. "But I know he's here. He's talked to Leigh." She took a breath. "He's in trouble, Trudy. The man who beat you up is trying to kill him."

  Leigh's heart beat fast. This whole conversation was costing Cara a lot, and she prayed it wouldn't be for nothing.

  Trudy's eyes saddened, and she nodded her head.

  "If you know where he might be," Cara said gently. "Please tell us. I know you probably don't trust the police. But the detective on the case is a good friend of mine, and she told me that if Mason can help them catch Torr, he'll almost certainly get immunity."

  Trudy's face darkened, and she shook her head. "No. Police," she said staunchly.

  Leigh could see anger brimming in her cousin's eyes, but Cara covered it well. "I understand. No police. But we can't let Mason go to meet Torr alone. Maura told you the message Torr left on the mirror. If you understand it, you've got to tell me." She swallowed. "He could die, Trudy."

  Cara's voice faltered slightly on the last words, and Leigh's heart felt like lead. The effect was not lost on Trudy, either. The older woman's eyes began to tear, and she wrested them away from Cara and out into space. Her gaze moved toward the partially open door, and as Leigh followed it she saw Dan's head quickly duck away from the crack. Trudy's eyes hardened. "Don't trust." She said harshly. "Prison is death. To him."

  Cara stared at her aunt a moment longer, then rose from the bed. She turned away from them both, and Leigh could see she was trying to collect herself. When she faced them again, her blue-green eyes were moist, but determined. "Trudy," she began, her voice strong as steel. "I've never even seen my father." She held her aunt's gaze firmly. "And I don't want to see a corpse."

  Trudy made a groaning noise, then turned her face firmly toward the far wall, jaw clenched.

  Cara waited a moment, then dropped her shoulders. "We'll be going, then," she said, making an obvious effort to keep her voice kind. "If you need anything, here’s my number." She dropped a business card on the bedside table and started towards the door. Leigh turned to leave as well, but Trudy's pained voice stopped them both in their tracks.

  "His dog," she said intently.

  Cara walked back to the bedside. "Mason has a dog?"

  Trudy nodded. "I was. Keeping. Laurie Anne has. You take?"

  "You want me to take care of Mason's dog until you're out of the hospital," Cara translated. Trudy nodded. "I can do that. Maggie loves company. Laurie Anne—is she a neighbor?"

  Trudy nodded again, and painfully delivered an address. Cara listened carefully, said goodbye, and hastened Leigh out the door. "We'll have to make a little side trip," she announced to the guards in the hall. "An apartment complex here on the North Side." She delivered the street and apartment numbers, and Dan wrote them down on a pad in his pocket.

  "I'll let your husband know," he said dutifully, pulling out his cell phone. Cara nodded, and the foursome started walking.

  They were heading off in the car again when Leigh's mind flashed back to the day she'd met Mason in the hospital, and he'd asked for her phone number. It was a small thing, but it made her smile. Cara didn't need to write down numbers, either.

  ***

  Laurie Anne, a stooped black woman who looked only slightly younger than God, opened her door to the two women and two gigantic men without a trace of apprehension. "Who the hell are you?" she said fiercely, her hand attached firmly to the studded collar of a silent pit bull.

  Dan started to speak, but Cara interrupted him. "I'm Trudy Dublin's niece," she said as pleasantly as possible, her eyes darting nervously toward the pit bull. "She sent us to pick up her dog. Thank you so much for kee
ping it."

  The woman's wrinkled face broke into a smile. "Well, why didn't you say so?" she said pleasantly. She released her hold on the dog, which slunk disinterestedly back into the apartment. "Killer's a pussycat," she said disdainfully, shaking her head. "But I figure the harder I hold him, the scarier he looks, right?"

  Cara gave a smile of relief. "Do you think he'll come with us?"

  Laurie Anne looked confused. "Killer? Oh, no, child. Killer's mine. Had him since he was a pup. You're wanting the greyhound. Wait here. I'll get him."

  Leigh offered her cousin a supportive grin. She should have suspected Mason for a greyhound owner. He did work next to a dog track, after all. He had probably dropped the dog off at Trudy's when he went underground.

  In a moment Laurie Anne returned, pushing the reluctant retiree by the haunches. "He's the laziest sonuvabitch I ever saw," she said with exasperation. "Can’t believe he was ever a racer. You're welcome to him. How's Trudy?"

  "She's better," Cara answered. She reached down to pet the greyhound, which drank her in with liquid brown eyes and flicked its tail lethargically. "Was there—" she asked a little hesitantly, "a collar? Or something?"

  The old woman shook her head, and Cara's shoulders seemed to slump in disappointment. Leigh watched curiously. Had Cara expected the dog to be some sort of clue? Was that why she so determined to get him tonight?

  "No leash or nothing," Laurie Anne explained. "I dragged him out from under the bed while the hospital folks were working on Trudy. Helluva watch dog, eh?"

  "I'm sure he'll follow us," Cara said confidently. The dog had indeed taken to her, and was leaning against her legs as she talked. She moved a few steps away and clucked to him, and he bounced back to her like a spring.

  "Give my love to Trudy if you see her," the woman told them as they started to leave. "I'd go myself, but I don't get out anymore, you know."

  Leigh looked into Cara's disappointed face with concern. Had she really thought this dog was the key to finding Mason?

  "Oh, by the way," Laurie Anne called after them. "His name is Funny Money."

  Chapter 22

  Leigh's eyes locked with Cara's.

  Funny Money?

  "Funny Money line," Cara whispered. "Where’s the nearest dog track?"

  "Wheeling," Dan offered, and Ed nodded his massive head in agreement.

  "No," Leigh interjected, the wheels in her brain spinning. "That's not what it means. 'Greyhound line.' They're meeting at the bus station!"

  Cara stared at her, her lively blue-green eyes filled with sparks. "Well, let's go, then."

  ***

  The bus station was only one river away from the North Side, and Dan covered the distance quickly, protesting all the while. "I'm not supposed to take you anywhere but the hospital and home," he said, his voice the closest thing to a whine that a 250-pound man was capable of.

  "Just drive," Cara said authoritatively, punching on her cell phone. "I knew Trudy was giving us a clue," she exclaimed. "I knew it. She understood the message, but she was determined to keep the meeting place a secret from the police. She was hoping that if I figured it out later on my own, I would try to stop Mason myself."

  Leigh studied her cousin anxiously. "But you wouldn't. Right?"

  Cara threw her a defensive look. "Of course not! That would be idiotic. I'm calling Maura right now."

  Leigh breathed a sigh of relief. Warren would kill her for this, but Maura would be there soon, and they did have bodyguards, after all. What could happen?

  Cara hung up her phone just as Dan brought the car to a stop in a coveted on-street slot. "I didn't talk to Maura directly, but they're notifying her. And the city police are on their way."

  "So what do you think you're going to do now?" Dan asked nervously. Leigh shook her head in amazement. She'd never met a man yet—no matter how huge or domineering—that her petite, strawberry-blond cousin couldn't play like a harp.

  "I'm not sure," Cara answered distractedly, tapping her fingers on the car door as she peered out the window. "Mason could show up here any time or not at all. As could Torr." She bit a fingernail. "Or they could be inside right now."

  "We should wait for the police," Leigh said quickly. It was easy to be the voice of reason around Cara—she was probably the only person in the world with an even less well-developed sense of self-preservation.

  "Yes, we should," Cara agreed, stepping out of the car.

  Dan jumped immediately out after her, protesting.

  "You two stay here and keep an eye out for the police," she said calmly, completely ignoring the hulking man at her elbow. "If nobody's inside, we'll be back in a jiff."

  As Cara drifted fearlessly into the bus station with Dan at her heels, Leigh attempted to shift the weight of the antsy greyhound that had taken up residence in her lap. It will be okay, she told herself. The police will be here any minute.

  "I think Dan's met his match," Ed chuckled.

  Leigh grinned at the ex-football player, who hadn't said another word the entire trip. "And how," she agreed. Her eyes swept lazily over the entrance to the bus station, and her stomach churned nervously as she imagined Mason looking at the same view, wondering if he would ever come out alive.

  She shifted her gaze to the side street, and it was then that she saw him—two second's worth of a silhouette, dodging behind the back corner of the building.

  She sat up straight.

  "Whuzzat?" Ed inquired, following her gaze.

  "Mason," Leigh said in a whisper, pushing the greyhound onto the floor and opening the car door. "He's here."

  "Stay in the car," Ed ordered.

  "It's not Torr," Leigh argued, holding the whimpering dog back with one hand while she stepped out . "It's Cara's father. He's not dangerous."

  "But the police will be here any second," Ed insisted, getting out behind her. "Just sit tight."

  Leigh wanted to cooperate. Really, she did. But she knew the possible price tag. "If Mason sees a police car a mile away he'll take off again," she reasoned. "Then as soon as it's gone he'll come back and get himself killed. I've got to talk to him now."

  Not wanting to wait any longer, and not sure that Ed wouldn't pick her up like a sack of potatoes and stuff her in the trunk, she walked briskly away from the car and toward where Mason had disappeared. To her relief, she realized the bodyguard was following her. He was muttering profanity, but he was following her.

  She reached the spot where she thought she had seen the silhouette, and took a deep breath. It wasn't an alley, exactly, but it was close enough, with a line of trash cans and bins to hide bodies—or parts thereof—behind. It was also dark as sin, the street lamps failing to penetrate much farther than where she stood. Ed grabbed her behind the elbow and clamped down tight, but his zeal was unnecessary. Leigh had no intention of taking another step.

  "Mason," she hissed. "If you're in here, speak up right now. It's just me, Leigh, and I've got a bodyguard. The police aren't here yet, and I hope to God Torr isn't either."

  A dark figure stepped out of the shadows and walked quickly toward her. "Are you crazy?" it said angrily. "Get out of here, now! Do you want to get yourself killed?"

  "No," Leigh retorted, just as hotly. "But you seem to. And I won't let you. You've got to work with the police on this. They can handle Torr, I promise you."

  Mason stepped into the light. "No, they can't," he said firmly. "I'm not going to tell you again: Go away."

  Leigh grunted as Ed pushed her roughly forward. She fell onto the hard concrete with a "whomp," two-hundred plus pounds of linebacker following her. After a moment Ed rolled off limply, and Leigh struggled to her hands and knees, both of which were in pain. "What the heck did you do that for?" she cried.

  "Quiet!" Mason bent over the bodyguard, and Leigh realized that Ed hadn't rolled off her of his own volition. Her eyes widened in alarm as she noted his closed eyes and slack body.

  "Oh, no," she murmured in horror.

  Mason, who
had been feeling around under Ed's sweatshirt, pulled back a hand that, in the dim light, appeared to be covered with oil. Leigh felt her insides roll.

  Mason let loose with a long string of four-letter words, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and stuffed it back up under Ed's shirt. He then pulled off his own jacket and put it over the bodyguard's chest.

  Leigh heard a footstep.

  She could only presume that Mason heard it too, because before she realized what was happening, they were both up and running.

  "Get in!" He yelled at her, releasing her arm and flinging her toward the passenger side of a dirty tan Tempo. She obeyed without hesitation and fell onto the dingy vinyl seat in a heap. No sooner had she sat upright than the car took off with a violent lurch, toppling her back onto her side again.

  "You okay?" Mason asked anxiously as she fought her way towards vertical again. He was driving like a maniac. She grabbed the door with one hand and braced the other on the dashboard.

  The front of the bus station whizzed by, and though Leigh had the impression of passing close by a big black man and a petite redhead on the way, she couldn't be certain. Downtown Pittsburgh was jerking around in front of her like trees in the Blair Witch Project, and her stomach was somewhere in the vicinity of her Adam's apple.

  The car was moving forward, but as far as she could tell Mason was looking only backward, his eyes plastered on the rearview mirror. "I don't think he's following us," he said grimly. "Not yet."

  Leigh struggled to get her breath. "What happened back there?" she asked, thinking as she said it that it was a pretty dumb question.

  "Torr had me in his sights already," he replied angrily. "Making me sweat, no doubt. You two messed up his plans."

  "But he can't just go around shooting people in public!" The words came out in a shriek, and she immediately shut her mouth. She was beginning to sound hysterical, and she hated sounding hysterical. Not unless death was imminent would she ever let herself sound hysterical. "How can he be that careless and never get caught?" she said more evenly.