For all he knew, Taylor was one of those people—a liar—and he hadn’t figured it out yet. Would she prove him wrong, or was he about to find out she was exactly like the others?
CHAPTER 3
IN A WARM ROBE, her fingers pink and wrinkled from the hour spent in the tub, Taylor grabbed her phone and studied the missed call. She’d recently seen the number, but who did it belong to? She ran it over in her mind a few times.
“Duh!” She smacked her forehead. “Right. Dustee.”
Her witness had changed her phone number yesterday because she’d given her last one to a guy named Wally who wouldn’t quit texting and calling her.
“Sigh. Of course it would be you, Dustee.” Taylor entered the number into her contact list. She wanted to be sure the next call would register with Dustee’s name, as there would be a next call. Another. And another. She phoned all the time. Like all the time. Complaining about most everything, frequently getting into battles with her twin sister, Dianne, and Taylor ended up refereeing the fights. Dustee had spent most of her teen years behind a computer and hadn’t developed strong social skills or any skills other than computer hacking. So she might be twenty-four, but she was very immature and acted like a spoiled teenager much of the time.
Taylor concentrated on positive thoughts and tapped the number. No way she’d lose the peace she’d found in her long soak, and complainer or not, Dustee deserved Taylor’s best effort. The call went directly to voicemail.
“Dustee, it’s Taylor,” she said, not sorry Dustee hadn’t answered. “If you still need me, give me a call.”
Taylor hung up and sat down at her laptop to transfer photos from her phone that she’d taken during her lunch break. She opened the first one of an elderly couple walking hand in hand, smiling at each other, love glowing on their faces. She tried to concentrate on cropping the image, but her mind kept going back to Dustee.
Taylor liked spending what little free time she had enjoying her photography hobby, but guilt had her closing her computer and reaching for her phone again. Why did she have to be such a people-pleaser? Her biggest flaw.
Taylor tried calling Dustee a second time and got her voicemail again. She could give up or she could call Dianne. She always knew what her twin was up to. Taylor dialed the number.
“Taylor, thank goodness.” Dianne’s relieved voice blasted through the phone. “I was just about to call you. Dustee should be back by now, but she’s not. I don’t know what to do.”
“Back?” Taylor made sure she sounded calm, but worry took purchase in the pit of her stomach.
“From the library,” Dianne said. “She’s been going there every night lately. Says she needs time to chill alone. I think it’s a good idea. I know I appreciate the time alone too, but tonight . . . I don’t know what happened. I keep trying to call her, and she’s not answering.”
Alarm bells went off in Taylor’s head. “Do you think she’s using the library computers?”
“I wondered the same thing. Even asked her about it. She said she wasn’t, but she’s really struggling with internet withdrawal. When she comes home from there, she’s in such a good mood. So maybe. Yeah. Maybe she is.”
Taylor glanced at the clock. Quarter after ten. “How late is she?”
“The library closed at eight.”
Missing for two hours. A problem? “She could’ve stopped for something to eat or to grab some groceries.”
“No. No way. After the shoe incident, she’s broke.”
Right, the shoe incident. How could Taylor have forgotten? Using the money earmarked for her share of the rent, Dustee had spent seven hundred dollars on designer pumps last week. A typical, foolish Dustee move. Dianne was right. Her sister didn’t have even a dollar to her name right now.
Taylor’s warning bells grew louder, ringing like an entire bell choir in her head, and she ran to her room to get dressed. “Which branch does Dustee go to and how does she get there?”
“She takes the bus.” Dianne shared the library’s location and Dustee’s usual route.
Taylor wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder to pull on a pair of jeans. “I’ll go look for her. You stay put with the doors locked and call me if she comes home.”
“Do you think something bad happened? Like maybe she did access the internet and Phantom found her?”
Taylor did. She totally did. But she wouldn’t admit it and scare Dianne even more. “Let’s not worry about that yet. You know how flaky Dustee can be.”
“You’re right. Let me know what you find.”
“You can count on it.” While Taylor hated hanging up on Dianne when she was in such a worried state, keeping the connection with her would only slow Taylor down.
Father, please. Please let Dustee be safe. I should have . . .
“Stop. Don’t waste time beating yourself up. Plenty of time for that after Dustee is found.” She tossed her phone on the bed and put on the first shirt she found, a bright pink knit top. She covered it with a leather bomber jacket for warmth and to hide her holster, allowing her to carry and not raise suspicion from anyone she might run into. She snatched up her phone to pull up the bus stop closest to the twins’ apartment, then raced for her car, grabbing her purse and credentials as she fled.
The streets were nearly deserted, and she made the trip from suburban Beaverton to Portland in record time, even with the dense fog. She’d have loved to run with lights and siren, but she had no clear-cut reason to do so and didn’t want to risk distracting the few motorists who were out and cause an accident on foggy roads.
She parked outside the twins’ apartment building and took off on foot, following the most direct route toward the bus stop. The overcast night, the fog, the mist so typical for April in Portland made a simple walk feel ominous and foreboding when in fact the neighborhood was safe with good walkability. That was one of the reasons the twins chose to live here. The rent was a bit higher than they should’ve committed to, and they often struggled to pay it, but thankfully they hadn’t been late in the six months since moving into this apartment. Even with Dustee’s shoe mistake.
Taylor climbed higher up the hill, where the dense wall of fog lifted a bit. No sign of Dustee. Up ahead on the shoulder, she spotted what looked like a pair of women’s pumps.
Dustee’s shoes?
Taylor kicked into gear, charging uphill, panting with the exertion it took to scale the steep incline. She squatted by the rainbow-colored shoes, size nine, kicked off and lying there discarded. Her heart dropped. No doubt these were the shoes that caused the disagreement between the twins last week.
Had Taylor’s worst fear come true? Had she let her guard down for just an hour and something bad had happened to someone under her care?
No. Please. No. Let her be okay.
Panic gripped Taylor. She couldn’t move. Think. That old familiar blanket of guilt over her brother’s death settled over her. She struggled to take a deep breath, the thick air clogging her throat, and she wanted to collapse in a heap.
No. Stop. Get a grip. Focus. Dustee needs you.
Taylor swallowed hard. She had to keep it together. Find her witness. No matter what.
Picking up the shoes, she stood and looked around. No other sign of Dustee, but no sign of foul play either. Had someone come along in a vehicle and abducted her? Maybe she’d struggled, and that was how her pumps ended up beside the road. What other explanation could there be for Dustee leaving such expensive shoes behind?
Taylor couldn’t think of a single one, but she could be wrong and Dustee hadn’t been abducted. Only a thorough search of the area would tell for certain. Taylor had passed an alley on the way up the hill, a place where Dustee might have hidden if she feared for her life. She could still be there. Maybe hurt. Bleeding. Terrified. Calling Taylor on the phone, and Taylor hadn’t answered. Then Phantom finding her. Finishing her off.
Please, no.
Adrenaline burned through Taylor’s body as she sprinted toward the
alley. She stumbled. Righted herself before making a crazy nosedive down the incline. Maybe this was what had happened to Dustee. Someone followed her. She’d bolted. Gotten off-kilter. Kicked off her shoes to run faster. Hopefully, Taylor would find her in the alley.
She hung a right at the fish market on the corner, home to her favorite wild-caught salmon, though now the fishy smell only made Taylor’s stomach roil. She entered the alley, her free hand resting on her gun. She eased cautiously into the space.
“Is anyone here?” she shouted but resisted saying Dustee’s name in case someone was lying in wait for her.
Taylor heard movement ahead. She searched the fog. Nothing moved in the haze. She dropped the shoes and drew her weapon, bracing it with both hands. She moved deeper into the narrow space. Thick fog clung to the ground, swirling around her ankles and dampening her clothing. If Dustee was lying injured or dead, there was no way Taylor could see her.
A noise clanged ahead, sounding like something crashing against metal.
Fear constricted Taylor’s heart. “Hello?”
“Help—I’m here!” Dustee’s frightened voice came from deeper in the alley.
She was alive! Dustee was alive!
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Taylor’s heart lifted, then immediately dropped again. Dustee might be alive but she could be seriously injured. The urge to rush toward her witness’s voice grabbed Taylor by the throat, but caution was always the name of the game for a law enforcement officer in a risky situation. And always her manner of operating.
“I’m coming. Hold on.” Taylor took slow steps, her heart pounding. Just ahead, she could make out a white grate lying on the ground. Ah, right, the clanking sound. She saw a large duct opening cut into the wall of the fish market.
“Dustee? Where are you?” Taylor called.
“Here.” The dejected voice came from inside the duct.
Taylor bent down. Found her witness folded over and lodged inside.
“I’m so glad you came.” Dustee exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m stuck and dropped my phone. I can’t reach it.”
“Why are you in there in the first place?”
“Phantom was chasing me.”
Taylor’s mouth fell open, and she fired a look around the area, searching for the hacker. “How do you know it was Phantom?”
“Who else would be stalking me?”
Gun still in hand, Taylor squinted into the fog. “Stalking as in tracking you for some time or just tonight?”
“Just tonight.”
Phantom could still be nearby, and he was a ruthless killer. Taylor had to take precautions. Their safety came before freeing Dustee from the duct. “I’m going to clear the alley to make sure he’s gone, and then I’ll come back for you.”
“I’m sorry.” Dustee began to cry. “I messed up big-time.”
“You used the computers at the library to access the internet, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Taylor opened her mouth to chastise Dustee, but her eyes were wide with terror. Taylor wouldn’t add to her misery. “I’ll be right back.”
She made her way carefully down the alley. Step after step into the misty darkness, her gun raised. She flipped open the dumpster. Found it empty and sighed in relief. She ripped lids off trash cans. Kept moving. Finally, she came to the entrance of the alley and surveyed the next cross street.
No one. No Phantom. They were alone.
Breathing deeply, she rushed back to Dustee and holstered her gun before aiming her phone’s light into the duct. Dustee flinched, but not before Taylor saw her red-rimmed eyes and big tears rolling over high cheekbones. A natural blonde with striking bone structure, Dustee was a real beauty. Model pretty. As was Dianne. They couldn’t go anywhere without drawing attention. Some of it unwanted, but much of it acknowledged and exploited by Dustee. She leveraged nearly everything, but not right now. Even if she’d accessed the internet and perhaps alerted Phantom, she was the victim here, and she was wedged in tight.
“I hope I don’t have to call the fire department to get you out of there,” Taylor said.
“It would be embarrassing, but um, hello! Hunky firemen.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. Still, she had to admit that Dustee’s humor helped lessen her worry. “And what logical explanation could I offer them for your predicament other than the truth? You know I can’t share your WITSEC status with anyone, so you’d better hope I can get you out.”
Dustee’s lip trembled. “I’m sorry. I am. Honest.”
Taylor stowed her phone. “I know you are, sweetie. I know. Press down now as tightly as you can and I’ll pull on your feet. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Dustee flattened out.
Taylor grasped Dustee’s ankles and tugged hard, inching her forward until her bare feet rested on the pavement.
“I can take it from here.” Dustee maneuvered herself all the way out and collapsed on the ground. She lifted her arms overhead in a stretch, those big tears returning.
“I thought he was going to find me. I thought I was going to d—” Her voice broke, and she drew her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her long arms around them, her body convulsing with gut-wrenching sobs.
Taylor squatted and patted Dustee’s back. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
“B-b-but he knows where I am n-n-now.” Her wailing increased.
Right. Not good. “Did you give out your actual address online?”
“No.”
“Okay then. Your apartment is still safe for now, but we need to get over there. Dianne is alone, and Phantom could show up.”
Dustee sobered instantly and got to her feet. “Let’s go.”
“Let me grab your shoes to protect your feet.” Taylor jogged back to where she’d dropped the pumps.
In Taylor’s opinion, the shoes were nothing special. Just basic leather pumps in a rainbow of colors. Taylor could appreciate a nice pair of heels, but how in the world did these cost so incredibly much? And why was Dustee so desperate to own them that she’d risk being evicted from her apartment? Not that she really had to worry about that. Dianne was a saver, and Dustee counted on her sister to bail her out all the time. Why would this incident be any different?
Dustee stepped into the shoes. Taylor was five-foot-nine, but in the pumps Dustee towered over her as she glided like a runway model toward her apartment.
Hand on her weapon, Taylor set off while continuing to check their surroundings, searching for the hacker who’d brutally murdered his partner. “Are you sure it was Phantom who tailed you?”
“Who else would it be?”
“What about Wally?”
Dustee shook her head. “Wally’s short. This guy was much taller. Plus his body language didn’t say he was a man interested in romance. I’ve seen that before. This wasn’t that. He looked rigid and angry.”
Taylor wasn’t certain you could get all of that from the way a guy approached, but Dustee knew men’s advances and surely believed it. “Regardless of who it was, your internet visits compromised your identity, and I can’t take a chance in leaving you here.”
“You’re going to move us? Change our names again?” Dustee gaped at Taylor.
“Yes. If my supervisor doesn’t kick you out of the program for violating your MOU.” Taylor didn’t need to explain, as Dustee knew every witness was required to sign a Memorandum of Understanding before entering WITSEC. The agreement outlined the witness’s obligations upon admission to the program, and that included acknowledging that if they violated said amendment, it was cause for being removed from the program.
“Kick us out?” Dustee shot a panicked looked at Taylor. “But Dianne didn’t do anything wrong.”
Exactly. “Maybe not but her status is dependent on yours, remember? You screw up, you both pay the price for it.” Just like every other time, Taylor thought but wouldn’t add as she was already being tough on the stressed-out woman.
“I-I . . .” She started cr
ying again and sniffled. “I really did it this time, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” Taylor let the word hang there for the next block, giving Dustee time to grasp the magnitude of her mistake. “I’ll go to bat for you, though. You know that, right?”
“I hoped, but even I can see this time I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“I’m thinking of Dianne.”
“Yeah. Help us. For Dianne.” Dustee swiped her forearm over her eyes and jogged up to the apartment door to unlock it.
Once inside, Taylor engaged the dead bolt behind them.
“Where have you been?” Dianne charged her sister and swept her into a hug. The pair were identical, even down to their hairstyles.
“No time to explain,” Taylor said, trying to convey her sense of urgency. “I need you both to pack a bag. Fast. I’ll arrange for backup and then we’re out of here.”
“A bag? Backup?” Dianne turned to Taylor. “I don’t understand.”
“Your new identities are blown. You’ll have to relocate. Grab only what you need for a few days. I’ll have the rest of your things packed and shipped.”
Dianne opened, then abruptly closed her mouth. Opened it again and shook her head. “Wait. How were our identities blown?”
Taylor glanced at Dustee, who bit her lip, clearly not ready to admit her actions to her twin. Fine, Taylor would have to do that. But not now. “I’ll explain later at the office, where you’ll be safe until I find you a new home.”
Dianne gaped at Taylor and wrung her hands.
Taylor took Dianne’s arm to steer her toward her bedroom. “Come on. Let’s get you packed.”
“I’m sorry,” Dustee called after them.
Dianne jerked free and spun to face her sister. “You did this, didn’t you? You couldn’t stay away from the internet. Broke the rules. Now Phantom is after us again. You’re ruining my life, and I’ll never forgive you.”
“I know, and I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Dustee said quietly.
Taylor wanted to rail at Dustee for the poor-pitiful-me act she was putting on. At least Taylor thought it was an act. It was her go-to method to play on Dianne’s sympathies, who usually fell for it.
Seconds to Live Page 3
