Exposing a Killer

by Laurie Alice Eakes

  If she ever could become the boss in a permanent way.

  “Do you know why anyone would do this to you?” Another man joined them. He wore a suit with no tie and an open top button on his shirt. “Detective Ryan,” he added.

  “Megan O’Clare.” She sighed, picturing a visit to the nearest precinct, hours in an interview room drinking bad coffee and again explaining what had happened the previous night. Unless she could simply refer them to Lincoln Park.

  “And, to answer your question, yes, I do believe I know,” she answered at last. “I think it has to do with one of my cases.”

  The police officer and the detective looked interested, but the fireman gave her some instructions as to what her next steps should be, then returned to his crew finishing up inside the office.

  “I’ll need a statement from you,” the policeman said. “Names, if you have them. When. Why.”

  And that someone had tried to kidnap her from the fire scene?

  Yes, she should probably report that to him, but in a split-second decision, Megan decided to wait until she reported at the station. Telling them now would probably get her hauled to the station at once for no good reason. The man was long gone.

  “May I give you all the details later?” Megan stared at her grimy clothes, at the bulge where the backup drive still rode inside her shirt above her waistband. She needed to sit down and think things through. “I need to get our receptionist and her dog home first.”

  Behind her, Amber snorted.

  Megan cringed. She hadn’t quite told the truth there. She didn’t need to get Amber home, not strictly speaking. Amber was capable of getting herself home, thanks to Tess. But Megan wanted to escort her home, wanted to keep her friend safe.

  “And I have people waiting for me,” she added, which was one hundred percent the truth.

  “You can come into the station later.” The detective spoke with deliberate slowness. “But I need to know how to reach you and anyone else who’s a witness.”

  Megan gave him her business card, scrawling her cell number on the bottom, and pulled out her phone to bring up Amber’s. “She was the closest to the bomb.”

  The cop’s gaze swept from Amber, to Tess, then back to Megan. “That’s all right.”

  “I’ll come with Megan to make a statement later today,” Amber said, an edge to her tone.

  The cop didn’t acknowledge her.

  Megan gritted her teeth before saying, “And you can contact Sergeant Dave Luskie at the Eighteenth Precinct about what went down last night. That will save us all a lot of time.”

  With that, she nodded, then turned to Amber. “There’s a mess up ahead. Do you want an arm?”

  Amber hesitated, then reached out her right hand for Megan’s elbow. With Amber holding Tess’s leash for a heel on her left side, Megan guided them through the rest of the detritus on the sidewalk, then the few onlookers who remained. On Belmont, the crowds were thicker and moving faster, hurrying to and from numerous restaurants for lunch. Red and Brown Line trains rumbled overhead, adding to the cacophony, so neither of them spoke. A pall of smoke mingled with the aromas of grilling burgers and frying doughnuts, making Megan at once nauseated and hungry. Most of all, she was tired, and the bone-deep, soul-deep fatigue made her feel like she carried a fifty-pound pack on her back. Every survival instinct told her to go home, crawl into bed and sleep for about twelve hours.

  But not business survival. She had a hospital to contact about Gary’s condition, other agents to call and tell the office was temporarily closed. A cleanup crew to contact and schedule. Worst of all, she needed to have the building inspected for serious damage. Of course, they would need to replace the carpet and possibly furniture in the lobby. The sprinkler system had likely gone off and damaged computers and other office equipment. That meant calls to the insurance company.

  She tripped on the curb in front of the L station.

  “I think I need to be guiding you,” Amber said with a chuckle.

  “Tess’s better at looking where she’s going than I am.” Megan scanned the crowd. “Where is Jack? He’s so tall, I should be able to—ah, there he is.”

  He stood next to a bench outside the station. Since he said he was meeting his sister, Megan wasn’t surprised to see the young woman beside him. An older teen with utterly stunning looks. A more delicate, feminine version of her brother, with his clear blue eyes and curly, golden brown hair worn in a high ponytail. And in front of her stood a walker.

  He hadn’t mentioned his sister had walking difficulties.

  The closer Megan drew to the pair, the more she noticed lines of pain around the young woman’s lips.

  Though the trip must have been an ordeal for Jack’s sister, he had brought her to keep her safe.

  Because of one case that should not have been important in the scheme of things.

  Megan doubted she could smile without it coming off as forced, so she merely held out her hand to Jack’s sister. “Hi, I’m Megan.”

  “Grace.” She took Megan’s hand in a soft, firm grip, then smiled, her whole face lighting. “I’m sorry my brother has caused so much trouble.”

  “Me?” Jack exclaimed. “That’s hardly fair.”

  “He’s...a troublemaker all the time,” Grace pressed on, her smile metamorphosing into a grin.

  Megan noted the hesitation in Grace’s speech—slight, but noticeable to someone trained to observe details. She loved how Grace teased her brother. Megan’s elder brother had teased her when they were young, before the race to enter the best schools, Ivy League preferably, drove them apart because Megan wasn’t interested in that route.

  She no longer had difficulty smiling at Grace. “Give him a break this time. I think the trouble came from me, unless his scaring me out of that tree started all this.”

  “I was trying to help you,” Jack protested.

  Megan rolled her eyes, then introduced Amber.

  “I think we should go back to our apartment,” Amber said. “We can have lunch and...” She trailed off, her right hand touching Grace’s walker. “But we’re four blocks from the L. Is that too far to walk?”

  “Yes,” Jack said.

  “No,” Grace said at the same time.

  They frowned at one another.

  Jack shrugged. “It’s up to you, but we still have to get home afterward.”

  “Or to the police station,” Megan pointed out. “Amber and I have to make a statement, and you should probably come, too.”

  “I should.” Jack scrubbed his hands over his face, looking even more fatigued than Megan felt. “I saw that man dragging you off, so they’d probably want to talk to me.”

  “What man?” Grace asked.

  “Long story.” Megan yawned. “Or maybe not so long. Just distressing.”

  “Is it going to bring Uncle Dave back into things?” Grace asked.

  “Probably.” Jack held his hand out to Grace. “If you think you’re up to this, let’s get going.”

  “We could take a rideshare,” Amber suggested.

  “Too much trouble with this thing.” Grace patted her walker with her hand. “And I need the exercise.”

  “We can take our time.” Megan turned toward the station door. “We live near the Bryn Mawr—oh no. That station doesn’t have an elevator.”

  “And neither does our building,” Amber said. “How thoughtless of us.”

  Grace ducked her head, cheeks growing pink. “Sorry to be so much trouble.”

  “Sorry the rest of us are so far behind the times.” Megan touched the girl’s shoulder. “We’re just fine staying around here.”

  * * *

  They ended up at a café down the street from the station, with coffee, water, sandwiches, and awkward conversation all around the table. In bits and pieces, Megan and Jack explained about the man who had
nearly kidnapped her, tossing details they’d seen or experienced back and forth like a ping-pong ball, as though they told stories together all the time.

  All the time, when they had known each other for little more than twelve hours. The longest twelve or thirteen hours of Jack’s life—other than those after Grace’s accident, when he had been unsure whether she would live, then whether she would walk or remember her own name, let alone his.

  And now she was doing so well, talking with ease to Megan and Amber.

  Because they had made her comfortable. Neither had reacted oddly to her walker or her slight speech impairment. They noticed. They wanted to accommodate for Grace’s needs and left the issue at that. Natural. Accepting.

  Jack had little time in his life for friendships with women, let alone dating, but the few times he had dated in the past year, the women had been so uncomfortable around Grace, he had never asked them out again. Grace was his sister, his ward. He needed anyone with whom he spent time to treat her like a thinking, intelligent person.

  As Megan had.

  Not that he would date Megan.

  He gazed at her across the table. Despite the dark circles beneath her green eyes, she was still so pretty. She wore no makeup he could detect, yet her skin was creamy and flawless, her lips a natural pink and so quick to smile.

  Under other circumstances, he might want to get to know her better. But he was leaving the state in less than six months, embarking on a new life that provided no room to care about anyone beyond Grace and himself for years to come.

  And surely only his weariness was making him think such absurd thoughts about getting to know Megan O’Clare. She might be the rebel in her family, but he doubted she was that rebellious. Ladies from North Point did not date men from Beverly even in the twenty-first century.

  So they would get through this crisis created by the events of the previous night, and then say goodbye.

  That settled in his mind, he realized someone had asked him a question. He straightened his posture and grabbed his glass of water for the chill of the ice-filled vessel. “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked you if you agree these people need to be rid of us because of what we saw,” Megan said, one eyebrow raised.

  “Definitely. They couldn’t get your phone in time to stop you from sharing the video, so they want to get rid of an eyewitness.”

  “Weren’t you an eyewitness, too?” Grace asked.

  Jack sighed and nodded in reluctant admission.

  “Then won’t they want to hurt you, too?” Grace’s speech halted more than usual.

  “That’s why I brought you with me today.” Jack saw no need to lie to Grace. Forewarned was forearmed. Except she couldn’t defend herself if anyone tried to harm her.

  “This is messed up,” Amber muttered.

  “We’d better get to the station and make our reports.” Jack reached for his wallet to pay his half of the bill.

  “It’s taken care of,” Megan told him, her cheeks a little pink.

  Jack narrowed his eyes at her. “When did you do that, Miss O’Clare?”

  “When you were dozing.” She smiled and rose. “I’m going to order an SUV to get us to the train station. Take your time coming outside.”

  She left, Amber and Tess following.

  “What was that all about?” Grace asked.

  Jack gave her a questioning glance.

  “Don’t play stupid, Jack. You called her Miss O’Clare like she’s twice your age, not the nicest lady you’ve met in a thousand years.”

  “She paid the bill, like I can’t.”

  “So she hurt your pride by being nice. Maybe she just has more money than she thinks we do.”

  “She comes from money.”

  Yet she’d said she needed this case so she could afford to buy the agency. A woman with access to her family’s funds wouldn’t need to do that.

  So maybe she was just being nice.

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” was all he could think to say.

  Grace laughed. “Practically snoring into your plate.”

  He pretend-punched her arm, then stood so he could help her up. The table didn’t look steady enough for her to use it as a brace while she pushed herself to her feet. By the time they reached the sidewalk, an SUV idled at the curb, Amber and Tess in the far seat, and Megan in the third row.

  “I hope this is all right,” Megan said. “He said he has a portable step if the running board is too high still.”

  Such nonchalant thoughtfulness of Grace.

  Jack forgot his annoyance with Megan. “I’ll just lift her in.”

  Grace settled, Jack slid between the captain’s seats to sit beside Megan, though the third row had surely been designed for children, not men over six feet tall.

  And Megan was too close—close enough for him to catch a whiff of fresh shampoo from her springy ponytail. Something that reminded him of Christmas baking. Gingerbread men. That was it. Warm, ginger cookies his mother used to bake.

  “All settled?” the driver asked.

  With everyone’s assent, he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. In moments, they pulled into traffic and headed down Belmont. Reluctantly, Jack took out his phone and texted his uncle. He hoped the older man was still asleep, having worked all night.

  He wasn’t. An answer popped back immediately. He would come to the station at once. And pick up Grace.

  Of course he would pick up Grace. The problem was, Jack couldn’t argue with him this time. She was safer with their aunt and uncle than with him. Someone had already tried to kill him twice. The stolen car left in front of his house and the tampered meter were the last straw. Another attempt on his life might catch Grace in the crossfire.

  Only until this is over, Jack responded.

  He didn’t realize he murmured the words until Grace twisted inside her seat belt to look at him. “Only what?”

  “Uncle Dave is coming to pick you up. You’ll stay with them until we get this all straightened out.”

  “And what do we do in the meantime?” Megan asked.

  “Leave town?” Amber suggested.

  “I can’t,” Megan said. “I have to run the agency, and you wouldn’t believe all the things I have to do to get the office up and running again.”

  “And I have a business to run,” Jack added. “I’m self-employed. I can’t afford to just drop everything.”

  Jack looked at Megan. Their eyes met, held. Hers blazed like green bulbs on a Christmas tree. Jack’s burned, not from fatigue, but from the intensity of his feelings regarding the situation into which they had been thrust, and something else niggling with a thread of intensity. Before he could examine that, before he could say anything, they reached the station and didn’t have a chance to talk at all.

  A young officer, following orders, insisted Grace and Amber remain in the lobby.

  “But I’m a witness,” Amber protested.

  “Sure, ma’am.” The officer addressed Jack. “The two of you can come back.”

  “Ma’am,” Amber grumbled behind them. “I’m only twenty-six.”

  “She is a witness,” Megan was saying.

  “But she couldn’t have seen anything,” the officer said.

  “She can see some, and she could hear and...” Megan trailed off and sighed. “Let’s worry about Amber being left out later and get through this.”

  They got through it in separate interview rooms, as though they might tell different versions of the incidents that day if they weren’t together. Of course, their stories weren’t the same. They each had a different perspective. By the time they finished talking to separate sets of officers and reconvened in the lobby, Jack wanted to go for a long, hard run or go to a gym and hit a punching bag.

  “They dismissed my concerns like I’m some hysterical Victorian ma
iden.” Megan spoke Jack’s thoughts aloud, her eyes flashing.

  “Same here,” Jack said.

  Grace giggled. “They treated you like a hysterical Victorian maiden?”

  “Practically.”

  “In short,” Amber said, “they didn’t take you seriously.”

  “They think the attack on the office was mere vandalism from a disgruntled client or spouse of a client or something,” Megan said, toe tapping a jig rhythm on the tile floor. “And I was nearly kidnapped by someone who saw an opportunity to steal my handbag and the hard drive.”

  “Because that happens all the time in Lakeview,” Jack grumbled.

  He dropped onto the hard chair beside Grace. “My uncle told them the video you sent doesn’t show enough to be useful, even serious.”

  “And my car getting stolen?” Megan asked. “How do they explain that?”

  “Cars get stolen all the time in this city.” Jack patted the chair beside him. “Have a seat. We can talk a little while my uncle brings his car around front.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” Megan lowered herself beside him as though her muscles ached from head to toe. “How it’s coincidental my car ended up in front of your house?”

  “We can try to figure that out,” Jack said. “But I was thinking we should talk about how we are going to figure out what’s going on and who is trying to do us in, if no one else is going to take us seriously.”

  EIGHT

  Megan gave her head a violent shake. “Neither of us is qualified for that kind of an investigation.”

  “I don’t think either of us is eager to die, either.” Jack’s response was immediate, as though he had already planned for her objection. “I have a future ahead of me, a sister to get back into high school and training to do at the FBI Academy.”

  “And you want to run the agency,” Amber added.

  “You two are ganging up on me.” Megan shoved her fingers into her hair, loosening her ponytail so it drooped to one side.

  She felt like drooping to one side, keeling over and hiding under one of the stained and shredded chairs in the stark police station lobby. Surely no criminal would come to find her in a cop shop.