by Lisa Hughey
“Where did we implement phase two?”
“We had charges in Texas, California, and another town in Florida on the opposite coast from her original address.”
They had planted information and data in several states, all far away from Philadelphia where they finally settled Beatrice.
Her new name wasn’t in the files. That was to protect her in case their systems were ever compromised.
“I’m still tracing the information on that email. It came up when I did an in-depth search of her name.”
“Okay. Can you keep following up on that?”
“Sure.” He rubbed his forehead.
“Headache?”
He nodded.
Jill rummaged through her desk and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol tablets. She dumped four into her palm and handed them to Viktor.
“Spasibo.”
“Let me know what you find.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Jill blinked, inordinately pleased with affection in the simple word. Maybe she was getting the hang of this maternal thing.
Chapter 7
The next day Hamish tailed Jill discreetly, not wanting her to see him until they were on the plane. He couldn’t afford for her to leave if she spotted him first. So he lurked behind a post, listening impatiently as the plane boarded. Tension tightened his shoulders and cramped in his gut. He had listened in on her conversations yesterday, knowing she was headed to Philadelphia early this morning. He had thought about going ahead of her, then decided against it.
Because what if she had information that wasn’t revealed while he was listening? His goal was to track her movements. And to do that he first had to get up close to her just long enough to plant a tracker on her person.
But last night had gone on for an eternity. He had limited time left and eating up another sixteen hours hadn’t sat well with him. He had researched Philadelphia but with only a city and a hotel name, the intelligence wasn’t much to go on.
Finally, it was last call for boarding. He hustled onto the plane and they closed the door behind him. Brilliant.
Jillian couldn’t get off to avoid him even if she wanted to. He made his way down the aisle until he saw her. He’d even managed to snag a seat across the aisle from her. She was dressed in another fitted skirt, but this time she wore a more casual sweater and cardigan in a soft pale gray. The outfit suited her. And the softer sweater didn’t diminish her cool ice-queen vibe.
Her eyes widened as she saw him. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
Hamish smiled tightly as he smushed his bag under the seat. The overhead was full and he was going to be jammed into his little space. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long flight. “Checking out the seat of you Yanks’ rebellion.”
He sat down, buckled in, and waited for her explosion.
But Jill shifted in her seat, put on earphones, and picked up a ball of bright blue yarn and circular knitting needles. She began angrily knitting, focusing on the project in her hands as if he didn’t exist.
Hamish shrugged. Didn’t matter to him if she spoke with him or not. What he really hoped was she would lead him straight to Brianna, and once and for all he could get justice for his brother.
He observed Jill while a small beanie cap slowly took shape in her hands. It looked to be for a child and she was not even checking the pattern so she’d clearly done this before. He could practically see her wheels turning as she tried to figure out how he’d found her. Pretty sure the bug in her office was a lost cause after this. The element of surprise was blown and she would be on guard in the future.
He had hoped he would get more information about Brianna’s location before they took off. All he knew was that they had relocated her to the Philadelphia area. Why Adams-Larsen had done so was also a mystery. Although the why shouldn’t matter, it tugged at his subconscious like a boy on his mum’s dress when he wanted a treat.
Philadelphia was too big for him to just go and wander around without more specific data. Hamish tapped her on the shoulder, and she whipped her head around. She deliberately put down her knitting and took out an earphone. With an aggravated tilt, she cocked her head. “What?”
“So, where you headed?” He tried to soften his face, tried to smile, but the edge must’ve crept through his voice. Because she looked as if she wanted to stab him with her plastic needles.
“Not your business.” She returned to her knitting. Before she did, he could see the questions burning in her ice-gray eyes, but she refused to give in to her curiosity.
“This would all go a wee bit faster if you just gave me the information I needed.”
“Trust you?” She shook her head and went back to ignoring him.
Okay. Trusting him was a long shot, he’d give her that. The odd thing was, he wanted to trust her. Even though she was the enemy and she had helped Brianna disappear. He had gleaned that from her conversations with Kita Kim in the last two days. But she’d also jumped on trying to find Brianna as soon as she read through the transcripts from the trial. So she truly hadn’t known how evil Brianna was. The urge to trust her snaked through him even though he knew it was a mistake.
“I wager you have more questions.”
She turned her head again and pierced him with a deadly stare. “You bugged my office.”
Not a question.
Hamish could lie but she’d know the truth eventually anyway. He shrugged again. “Aye.”
“Illegal surveillance can’t be used in a court of law.”
“I don’t want to make trouble for you,” Hamish said. “And it will be worth it if I catch her.”
“Your persistence is confusing.” Jillian gave up the pretense of knitting and shoved the project into her bag along with the earphones. “You going to tell me why you’re so obsessed with this woman?”
“She’s a case.”
“Bullshit.” She tapped her finger over her pale pink lips. And not for the first time something hot and forbidden stirred inside him. Jillian Larsen was lush. Sexy. And he really needed to get his brain in gear and remember that she was hiding his enemy, which made her his enemy too. But all he could think about was pressing into her, taking her mouth and releasing all the pent-up fury inside him. That fury had morphed from rage to a dark, deep desire.
“This is personal for you,” she said intuitively.
“Every case is personal.”
She snorted. “So what do you expect to get from following me?”
“In a perfect world, you lead me to Brianna and justice will be served.”
“Justice?” She shook her head, the spun-silk white-blond hair catching on her soft gray sweater. “That’s a little vague for me.”
“Don’t you believe in justice?”
“I believe in following a moral code that protects the innocent.”
“Justice is the foundation of criminal prosecution. It gives closure to the victims and punishment for the perpetrators.”
“Sometimes the best outcome isn’t about justice. It’s about setting things right.” She studied him for another minute. “Why’d you become a law enforcement officer?”
“I wanted to catch bad guys.” Which was basically true. Keep the streets safe for everyone. Instead he’d failed the ones closest to him. Hamish shook off the dark cloud. Thinking about his failures right now wouldn’t help him find Brianna.
The only way to set things right was for his brother’s killer to be in prison…or dead.
“So where are we going first?” Hamish rubbed his hands together.
“We?” Jill snorted and Hamish couldn’t help but think about that nervous little giggle from her office yesterday when her employee had called him the Scottish Hottie.
Of course she’d then replied that perhaps he had a stick up his arse. He wasn’t uptight. Just driven. He’d certainly like to show her that he could be passionate. And based on her responses to Kita, she was attracted to him.
Hamish leaned back in his seat and smiled.
“I think we could be very good together.” It certainly wouldn’t be a hardship and he was willing to do anything to find Brianna Walsh.
Her lips parted in surprise. “Are you really going to go there?”
“I’m open to the idea.” Hamish cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, just shut that down right now. There is no we.”
He acquiesced for now, but he’d seen that little spark of uncertainty and that infinitesimal moment where she considered it. Even if it was mostly against her better judgement.
“Okay, no we. I’ll rephrase the question. Where are you going first?” And he’d be right behind her.
“None of your business.”
“That’s where you’d be wrong, love,” Hamish said. “Everything to do with Brianna, er, your Beatrice Winter, is my business.”
“What makes you think I’m going to Philadelphia to see her?”
“You’re smarter than that.” Hamish still kept his expression easy, light but inside he seethed. She hadn’t actually mentioned Brianna by name in her office but Hamish knew from her conversation with Kita yesterday that was why she was on this plane.
Jill studied her perfect French manicure. “Why would you think that I know where she is?”
“Let’s not play this game,” Hamish said. “Let’s work together to bring her to justice.”
“Nope. I hardly think our endgame is the same.”
Likely not. But he wasn’t about to give up.
“You know, wool would be warmer than that cotton.” He reached out to finger the cotton, subtly planting the tracker on it.
“What do you know about yarn?”
“I grew up on a sheep farm.” He made the peace offering sincerely, wishing he felt guilty about tracking her. “I’d be happy to get you some wool.”
“Wool isn’t what I need.” She dismissed him again. Somehow he thought she was actually saying, “You aren’t what I need.”
The overhead bell dinged indicating the short flight was almost over. The flight attendants bustled through the aisles and cut off their access to conversation. By the time the aisles were clear, she was back to ignoring him again.
The plane landed with a bump, ending their tense standoff.
Hamish followed her. She ignored him.
Jill slung her Hermès bag over her shoulder and made a beeline for the exit of the plane.
He had fucking bugged her office. What pissed her off even more was that it took her so long to figure it out. Then the bastard had the nerve to follow her off the plane with a lazy saunter.
No way was she leading him to where Beatrice Winter lived now.
Thanks to Kita’s computer skills they had recovered some information from Beatrice’s original file. Jill had known her relocation city was Philly, and Kita had been able to retrieve both her employer and her home address.
Beatrice had been placed in an apartment in downtown Philadelphia near a SEPTA line and within walking distance to her job.
First on her agenda, Jill called the office. Jake was on emergency call this weekend. “Hey, Jake.”
“Problem?” Straight. To the point. No words wasted. That was Jake Brown.
“I need you to sweep my office for bugs.”
“Seriously?” he burst out. Then he corrected his response. “Sure thing, boss.”
“I would bet there are more than one. So be extra cautious.”
“What should I do with them?”
“Crush them under your shoe heel and pretend they are someone’s balls.”
“Uh, Jill?” She heard Jake swallow.
“Okay, sorry. Just flush them down the toilet.” She hesitated. “But take a picture of them so I can see what they look like.”
“You got it.”
That done, she hustled to the rental car counter to pick up her subcompact. Before she left the counter, she leaned over and said to the attractive black woman waiting on her, “If a guy…about yea high—” she lifted her hand to Hamish’s height, “—asks about me…rather than tell him you can’t give out information about customers, would you give him false information?”
“Honey, you got problems?” The woman cocked her head, her shiny curls jiggling.
“You could say that,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry. I got you.” She handed Jill the folio with her contract and sent her outside to pick up her car.
Jill left the rental car lot, carefully checking behind her, but she didn’t see Hamish anywhere. The tension that gripped her shoulders didn’t lessen. He’d proven to be very resourceful and dogged at keeping tabs on her. Just because she couldn’t see him didn’t mean he wasn’t around somewhere. Damn him.
Jill eased into traffic and headed for downtown Philadelphia. Once she exited the city near her target she took another SDR, making sure that he wasn’t following. After fifteen minutes of driving in circles, confirming she didn’t have a tail, she pulled into a parking lot across the street from Beatrice’s new place of employment.
Jill pulled out her cell phone and punched in the number for the advertising agency where Beatrice was employed. She waited as the phone rang.
“Mercury Advertising,” said a perky voice on the end of the line.
“Hello.” Jill ran her finger over the steering wheel as her breath caught. Contacting a client after they’d been placed was a serious breach in their protocol, even though she believed the inconsistencies in Beatrice’s background were alarming. She was stuck between her faith in Marsh and the fact that he had completely gone off the grid. Hamish Ballard’s accusations were concrete enough that she needed to do this. She asked for Beatrice using her new identity.
There was a short pause and then the receptionist said, “I’m sorry. She is no longer with us.”
Shock zinged through Jill. “Are you sure?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Can I speak with your human resources manager?”
The receptionist said, “Hold, please.”
The phone rang several times before the human resources manager picked up. “How can I help you?”
Jill said pleasantly, “Hi, this is Constitution Employment Agency. We sent you an administrative assistant a few months ago.”
“Yes?”
“Can you tell me why she didn’t work out?”
“I have no idea.” There was clacking of the keyboard.
“How long was she employed there?” Jill asked.
“She only stayed about a week.”
“I am…very sorry to hear that.” Jill thought for a minute. “Did she, by any chance, leave a forwarding address?”
“No. She called in one morning and said she wasn’t coming back.” The manager hesitated for a moment. “She never even picked up her paycheck.”
“How…odd. Thank you for your time.” Jill hung up and pulled out the file with the scarce details she had on Beatrice’s relocation.
Beatrice Winter had quit a week into her new job. Jill skimmed her finger along the single sheet of printed paper until she came to Beatrice’s address. Sighing, she put the car in gear and headed to the apartment listed. But a sinking feeling in her stomach rumbled through her. She wanted to believe that Beatrice had found a different job and was still living in the place they had secured for her.
However, if the woman they had relocated was as manipulative and cunning as that transcript indicated, Jill had a bad feeling that Beatrice was going to be long gone.
Jill quickly drove to Beatrice’s apartment building. They had purposely set her up near her new job and near public transit so that she didn’t need a car. Jill walked into the old-fashioned apartment building, her heels clicking on the vintage black-and-white tiles. A guard sat behind the burled wood console with a desktop screen on his left and an old-fashioned phone system on his right. “Can I help you?”
“I sure hope so.” Jill smiled and got a picture of Beatrice from her file. “Can you tell me if this woman lives here?”
“Can I see some identific
ation?”
Her heart quickened. Now she was getting somewhere.
“Certainly.” She pulled a business card from her leather folio. A fake business card. “She has recently come into an inheritance. And I simply need for her to sign in order for her to collect it.”
The guard was still eyeing her suspiciously. “I’m sorry, she doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
“Nobody gonna forget a lady like that,” he said with a smile on his wide brown face.
“How long did she live here?”
“’Bout a week.”
ALIAS had paid for her first three months upfront. “Any idea where she might have moved to?”
“You’re going to have to talk to the manager about that.”
“Is he or she here?”
“Let me see.” He punched in some numbers on the phone system and waited as it rang. “Hey, Leonard. There’s a lady here about the lady tenant who only stayed a week.”
He listened for a moment then said, “Okay, I’ll send her on up.”
“Keep the card and if you see her, please give me a call. I’m sure she’d be willing to share some of that inheritance if you help her get it.” Jill dangled the possibility of money with little subtlety.
“I surely will do that.” He buzzed her through the next set of doors and Jill climbed a grand staircase to the second floor. Number 205 was already open and an ancient little man stood in the doorway.
“May I help you?” He had a wizened face and calculating eyes. He might be more inclined to help her.
“I hope so.” Jill pulled out another business card. The fake business cards had the name of a fake law firm, Adam’s Law Office, and a phone number that routed to ALIAS when needed. They used them when pretexting, fudging the truth, in order to get information. Technically, it wasn’t exactly legal. But in this case Jill felt she didn’t have a choice.
“What’s this all about?”
Jill handed him her card. “She has come into an inheritance, and this is the last known location I have for her. I was wondering if she left a forwarding address?”
