by Lynn, JB
Whitehat hesitated as though she was surprised by my outburst, and then continued toward me.
I clenched my fists, wanting to knock that calm, cool, and collected look right off her face.
“Easy,” God warned.
“Good morning, Ms. Lee,” Whitehat called as she approached.
“You almost killed me.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. She ran an assessing gaze over me. “There’s not a scratch on you.”
I glared at her.
“I do apologize for startling you, though.” She offered a half-smile.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I remained silent.
“I thought it was imperative we talk,” Whitehat continued.
“I told you I’ll get the bear,” I snapped.
She shook her head. “Not about that.”
“About Griswald?”
“No. I promised I’d tell you who wanted you framed for murder if you stole the bear. You fulfilled your end of the bargain…albeit incorrectly. I’m here to make good on my pledge.”
I squinted at her suspiciously, unsure of what this turn of events meant or if there were more strings attached.
“You’re not your niece Katie’s only aunt.”
“Yeah, she’s got Marlene and Darlene, too.”
Whitehat cocked her head to the side, waiting for me to figure out what she was getting at.
“Dirk’s family,” I muttered. I’d really disliked Katie’s dad, Dirk, and had not known his family. A while back, Patrick had helped me out when someone in that family had wanted custody of Katie, and I hadn’t thought of them since.
“Yes, the child’s father’s family,” Whitehat agreed.
“They’re going to try to take her away?” My voice cracked at the end, betraying my anxiety.
“I don’t think so,” she said carefully.
I squinted at her and practically yelled, “Then why bring them up?”
“You should stay calm, Ms. Lee,” Whitehat suggested.
There isn’t much that triggers my anxiety as much as the phrase, “stay calm”. I clenched my fists, my heartbeat racing. “Well then, you shouldn’t have run me off the road, making me think you were some kind of assassin,” I muttered.
Her lips twitched, like she was fighting back a smile. I guess hearing an actual assassin complain about being afraid of an imagined one is amusing to some, but it wasn’t funny to me.
She waited a beat before saying, “I think they want to destroy you.”
The tone she used conveyed just how serious the threat was. I leaned back against my car, suddenly feeling unsteady. “What do you mean destroy me?”
She took another step closer, something close to sympathy shimmering in her eyes. The lines around her mouth deepened, conveying how seriously she took the situation. “They tried to frame you.”
“That’s who Mia was working for?” I frowned, wondering how my high school friend had even come into contact with people who lived halfway across the country.
She nodded. “When that didn’t work, they sent the gunmen to your family home.”
“The ones the ninjas stopped?”
This time, a smile did break out across her face. For a second, she appeared genuinely amused. “You do know they’re not really ninjas, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “I’m willing to bet your name isn’t really Whitehat, either.”
She ducked her head in acknowledgment.
I sighed heavily. “Sometimes it’s just easier to play along with the illusion of the story that’s being presented rather than dealing with the truth.”
She nodded her understanding.
“How did you know to send them, the non-ninjas, to protect my family that night?”
“The same way I was able to send Zeke to save you from Mia. I keep a very close eye on you, Ms. Lee.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a valuable asset.”
I frowned, thinking something sounded wrong with that explanation, but not having a clue as to what it was. There were a lot of things that weren’t making sense. “Why do they want to destroy me? Why wouldn’t they try to get custody again? Or even try to kidnap Katie?” I shuddered at the thought.
She leaned back against my car beside me. I almost warned her that she was going to get her ivory outfit dirty, but then decided not to say anything.
“I have found that trying to make sense of how crazy people think can be maddening.” She spoke slowly, giving me the impression she was choosing her words with care. “Surely, you’ve known this to be true with your mother.”
I glanced at her sharply, momentarily annoyed she’d brought up my mom’s shortcomings. But then I realized she had a point.
She gave me a one-shouldered shrug, not quite an apology, but a half-hearted admittance she’d crossed a line.
“Yes, I have,” I admitted. “You think Dirk’s sister is crazy?”
“Not a sister, a cousin who calls herself aunt,” she replied. “And yes. Certifiably.”
A chill meandered down my spine. I could deal with bad people, evil people, even, but contending with a crazy is a more volatile problem. “What should I do?”
“I’m having your family guarded,” Whitehat replied. “But I imagine she’s going to keep coming.”
“Does she have a name?” God piped up from inside the car.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Daphne,” Whitehat supplied.
“Daphne the Demented,” God suggested.
Whitehat glanced inside the car. “I hear squeaking.”
“That’s the lizard,” I told her, even though I knew what the response would be.
“I do not squeak!” God bellowed.
“Noisy creature,” Whitehat muttered.
I banged on the door to get God to be quiet. I needed to get the conversation back on track. “What should I do about Daphne?”
She slid a sideways glance at me. “You’re a resourceful woman, Ms. Lee. I’m sure there’s something in your skill set that you could use to stop her.”
I scowled, realizing she was suggesting I eliminate this Daphne.
She pushed herself off the car and took a few steps away.
“Why did you tell me now?” I asked.
“Because your family is in very real danger and I’ll do what I can, but I think this is a problem you’re going to have to solve yourself.”
“Did you blow up the plane Mia and Leonard were on?” I asked, wondering if she, too, was capable of committing murder.
“I ordered it, yes.” She watched me carefully, her expression revealing nothing.
I nodded, grateful for her honesty.
“We like to think that we live in this advanced world, Ms. Lee,” she said, walking toward her SUV. “But really, we’re not that different than the animals. It’s kill or be killed.”
17
“This was not the morning to skip coffee,” I muttered after Whitehat had driven away.
God, once again in the center of the dashboard, flicked his tail with annoyance. “A lack of coffee is the least of your problems.”
“A lack of coffee exacerbates all my problems.” I pulled the car back onto the road, heading for Griswald’s place.
The lizard began to pace the length of the dash. “She’s probably right.”
“About one of Dirk’s crazy relatives being behind it?”
“About having to kill the demented Daphne.”
“I thought she was the Daphne the Demented,” I reminded him. “And even if I were to get rid of her, how do we know another family member won’t pop up to take her place.”
“What are your other options? Do nothing and hope that Whitehat’s people can keep Katie and the others safe?”
I shrugged, my stranglehold on the steering wheel making my knuckles throb. “Maybe if I leave Herschel’s place, everyone else will be safe. It sounded like it’s me she wants to destroy. I could move. Draw the attention away from the rest of the
family.”
“Are you delusional? Do you really think they sent teams of gunmen just to take you out? They were going to slaughter every last person there.”
Bile burned in my gut and tears stung my eyes at the thought of my entire family being wiped out. My throat closed, making it hard to breathe. My vision blurred and I had to pull off the road.
I rested my head on the steering wheel, my heart racing so fast I thought it might explode.
“Now’s not the time for a panic attack,” God said gently. “You need to hold it together.”
“I’m tired of holding it together,” I railed through clenched teeth. “My life is a cluster—”
“Worrying and breaking down isn’t going to fix a single thing,” God lectured. “You need to take action.”
I raised my head to give him my best death glare. He stared back, unperturbed. Then, he licked his eyeball.
Grossed out, I broke eye contact, sat up, and let out a shaky sigh. “Griswald.”
“Considering she’s your ally in this Daphne the Dangerous thing, perhaps it isn’t the time to push the Marshal about his relationship with Ms. Whitehat.”
I nodded my agreement, wondering how many names he was going to give my unseen enemy. “But I still need to figure out what he’s doing that involves clearing his father and potentially drags Delveccio into a mob war.” Determined to get some answers, I pulled back into the flow of traffic.
Griswald’s perfectly manicured cookie-cutter-house neighborhood was quiet when I arrived. A couple of high school kids wandered down the road toward their bus stop, but besides that, nobody else was out and about.
The lights were on at Griswald’s place, so I figured it was okay to approach for a chat. I was also counting on the idea that he’d probably give me a cup of coffee.
Tucking God into my bra, I climbed out of my car and hurried toward the front door, mentally rehearsing how I’d open the conversation. I was thinking the old classic “We need to talk” would be good.
As I reached to ring the doorbell, I realized that all wasn’t as perfect in this corner of suburbia as it appeared.
“Broken door,” I whispered, alerting God to the problem.
He scrambled up my bra strap and perched on my shoulder to see for himself.
The doorjamb was splintered, like it had been kicked in.
“Did you bring a weapon?” God asked.
I shook my head.
“Poor planning,” he chastised.
“You didn’t suggest I bring one, either, brainiac,” I snapped back.
“Perhaps dialing 9-1-1 would be prudent,” he suggested.
But I was already pushing open the door and stepping inside.
The place was trashed. Broken furniture littered the floor, housewares were shattered, even the art on the walls was askew.
“There was a struggle,” God opined.
I tiptoed around debris. “Thanks. I couldn’t have figured that out.”
“My perspicacity is impressive,” he whispered.
“Does that mean your ability to state the obvious?” I asked, creeping down the foyer.
He didn’t reply.
I gasped when I peeked into the kitchen. There was a large smear of blood covering the length of the floor.
“Blood,” God declared.
“I assume you’re going to tell me someone was hurt,” I muttered, wincing as I stepped around the remains of the smashed coffee maker. “That’s a shame,” I muttered.
“What is?”
“Griswald made good coffee in that thing.”
“Well, if he was the wounded one, he may never make a cup again,” God pointed out.
I swallowed hard, not wanting to think about that possibility. They’d tried to gun Griswald down, both at the cemetery and in the hospital, but so far I hadn’t seen any evidence of gunfire.
The blood trail exited through the kitchen door. Whoever the victim had been, he or she, had been dragged outside.
Seeing that Griswald’s knife block was still on the counter, I pulled out a carving blade to arm myself.
“Now, you’ve got your fingerprints on that!” God wailed. “They’ll arrest you for his murder.”
“I visit him here often,” I replied. “I can explain away fingerprints.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I had,” I snapped.
Like the front door, the kitchen one was ajar, too. I carefully pushed it open with the knife and stepped aside.
The acrid scent of smoke hit my nose, drawing my attention to the firepit. The embers were still glowing, as if it had burned all night.
“Maybe they cremated him,” God suggested in a horrified tone.
“That’s it,” I muttered. “No more true crime shows or police procedurals or whatever it is you’ve been watching that’s rotting your brain.”
“You’re right,” he said, sounding ashamed. “The optimal temperature for cremating a human body is 1400 to 1800 degrees Fahrenheit. This fire wouldn’t get hot enough. At least we know they didn’t turn him to ash here.”
“I take comfort in that,” I muttered sarcastically.
Seeing no more blood trail to follow, I went back into the house and moved to see if anything in the bedrooms had been disturbed. The main bedroom looked like it had undergone a perfunctory toss, but the room Griswald used as an office had been torn apart, papers everywhere, desk drawers overturned, and his computer smashed.
“What were they looking for?” God asked.
“Maybe what Dad gave him,” I theorized. After all, despite how I’d defended him to Susan, this whole thing seemed to have started when my father had wanted to make a deal with the Marshal.
“Do you think they found it?”
I shrugged. “No way of knowing.”
I used the knife to poke around in some of the piles of paper on the floor, looking to see if anything jumped out at me.
“You’re going to have to ask Archie what it was,” God said. “This is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “And I don’t even know what the needle looks like.”
My back protested being hunched over with a pained twinge. Groaning, I straightened up.
There was a creak behind me. I wasn’t alone in the house.
I whirled around, gripping the knife tightly, ready to use it to defend myself.
“Whoa,” Gino murmured, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Take it easy.”
Heart pounding, I stared at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking. Are you going to put that down?” He pointed at the knife.
I lowered it to my side. “Checking on what?”
“Griswald. You.”
I frowned. “He’s not here. There’s a blood trail in the kitchen.”
“I saw.” He grimaced. “We need to get out of here.”
“No. What I need is to figure out what happened.”
“It’s only a matter of time until the cops show up,” he warned.
“You were supposed to be watching him, protecting him,” I accused.
A flicker of emotion passed over his face. I couldn’t tell if it was guilt or annoyance. “Somebody took out my guys.”
“Dead?” God asked.
The squeaking drew Gino’s gaze to my shoulder.
“Are they dead?” I asked.
“Unconscious in their car. Put the knife back where you found it and let’s get out of here, Maggie.”
I shook my head. “I need to—”
“You need to not get pulled in by the cops,” Gino said forcefully. “There’s only so much my boss and your boyfriend will be able to do if that happens.”
“He’s right,” God seconded.
Turning toward the kitchen, I muttered, “Patrick’s not my boyfriend.”
While I wiped the handle of the knife with my shirt before I replaced it in the block, Gino studied the trail of smeared blood.
When I’d put t
he blade back, I turned to him. “Now what?”
“Now, we leave. You walk out the door, get in your car, and drive to the F&F Garden Center. You know where that is?”
I nodded. “Why?”
“Just go, Maggie,” he muttered, waving at me to leave.
“What about you?”
“I didn’t come through the front door,” he replied. “F&F.”
“Fine.” With an exasperated sigh, I hurried out of the house.
“It’s not his fault,” God said as I got into my car and drove away. “If he had men watching the house, he had every reason to believe Griswald was protected.”
“I know that,” I muttered.
“Don’t go blaming him. He’s your best shot of figuring out how to find Griswald.”
“Yeah.”
We fell silent as I drove. Finally, I voiced the fear that I’d been trying to hold back. “What if Armani was right? What if Griswald’s being tortured?”
18
Somehow, Gino beat me to the garden center and was standing at the edge of the road in front of the driveway when I pulled up. I stopped beside him, and he climbed into the passenger seat.
“Hey, little guy.” He waved at the lizard on the dashboard.
“I’d like him better if he wasn’t fond of demeaning nicknames,” God complained.
“His name is God,” I corrected.
Gino’s eyebrows launched skyward. “God?”
“Godzilla,” I explained. “God, for short.”
Gino grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
My breath caught, as I was struck by how attractive I found him when he wasn’t grousing at me. I stiffened, fighting the urge to impulsively lean closer.
“You okay?” he asked, catching my reaction.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Drive down to the fourth driveway on the right,” he instructed.
Reminding myself that now wasn’t the time to be indulging in flirtation, I focused on doing as he asked, then pulled into the drive he’d indicated. Its winding path led us to a small cottage tucked away on a private treed lot.
“You can park anywhere,” he invited.
I pulled close to the house. Once the car had stopped, he hopped out.
