Exposing a Killer
Page 12
His uncle’s eyes widened. His lips parted, but he said nothing for several moments.
Beside him, Megan began to speak, then pressed her fingers to her lips as though making herself be quiet.
“If it would put out Aunt Julie too much—” Jack began.
“No, not at all.” Dave turned away abruptly. “I’ll give her a call, and I’ll have someone drive you over there.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped the screen, while strolling down the hall.
“I can go to Mel’s house,” Megan said.
“Do you think you should?” Jack asked. “I mean, this man could have left town, but I’m not sure he did. Everything was too staged. The open doors. The lights left on. The dropped pillow—those are all signs of a hasty departure.”
“But who takes a feather pillow, then drops it when one is running away?” Megan fiddled with the zipper tab on her jacket. “I should have realized that right away. If the pillow is important enough to take in the first place, one isn’t going to leave it behind.” Her fidgeting fingers moved to her hair, her glorious red hair spilling around her shoulders for the first time since he’d met her.
She was always pretty. At that moment, despite dark circles beneath her eyes, she looked beautiful to Jack.
And he needed to get his mind away from such thinking. They were strangers thrown together under extraordinary circumstances. Nothing more. Ever.
“That’s why we need sleep,” Jack said. “One doesn’t notice the obvious and thinks absurd thoughts when one hasn’t had enough sleep.”
“Thank you for thinking about that.” Megan shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Do your aunt and uncle have enough room? I mean, Mel’s house is pretty small.”
“They have a good-sized condo in a high-rise along Lake Shore Drive.”
Megan shot him a questioning glance.
“My aunt is in sales. High-end clothes and jewelry.”
“So why—” She shook her head. “None of my business.”
“Why does he still work and at night?” Jack supplied the question for her. “He could have retired a couple years ago but feels the need to make up for the mistake with me.”
“Sounds like all of you need a little forgiving to go on—you of him and he of himself.” Megan’s voice was soft, barely above a murmur. After she said her piece, she ducked her head. “Like I have a right to talk that way.”
“Yeah, well, it’s always easier to see other people’s flaws than our own.” Since her hair hid her face now that a band no longer held the curls back, Jack brushed back the thick strands. They were soft, like some fancy yarn his mother had once used to knit a sweater for Grace. “Helps to recognize our flaws.”
Megan nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears. She appeared as though she were about to say something, but Dave paced toward them, phone still in his hand.
“Julie says for you two to come on over. Miss O’Clare can bunk with Grace in the guest room, and you can have the sofa bed in Julie’s office.”
As much as he wanted to sleep for a week, Jack hoped he would be awake in time for the sunrise. He hoped the clouds would blow away and they could see the sunrise over the lake. He didn’t know if he had witnessed anything more beautiful.
“We’re ready to go,” Dave called to them. “Go out back. There’ll be a car waiting for you.”
“Thanks.” Jack held out his hand.
Uncle Dave shook it. “Happy to help.” His voice was rough, like he had a need for a glass of water.
Feeling a little the same way, Jack offered his arm to Megan, as though they were striding up a red carpet instead of the slightly grimy halls of a police station, and left the building. As promised, a car awaited them. Since only one of them could sit in front, they opted to both sit in the back, like prisoners.
“Are you sure this is all right?” Megan whispered once the doors closed them in.
Locked them in.
In moments, they were on their way for the mile-long ride to the condo that overlooked Lake Michigan.
Jack glanced at the young patrolman driving. He had his dispatch radio on but might still be able to hear.
“Of course it’s all right. I think—” He paused to clear his throat. “I think me asking actually made him happy.”
“Absolutely.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“I can see his face without your bias.”
Jack nodded, then couldn’t resist. “Wonder if I’d see the same with your family.”
“Not likely.” Megan wrinkled her nose. “They don’t show emotion.”
“With a name like O’Clare?”
“Don’t stereotype us. Or them, anyway. I left when I was eighteen and haven’t gone back.”
“With them only—what?—ten miles away?”
Megan shrugged. “Ten miles. Ten thousand miles. It’s all the same when one leaves the nest.”
She sounded so distressed he wanted to reach out and take her hand in his, offer her comfort. He could say words, a lot of them, words about reaching out to them and forgiving them for their stubbornness and maybe examining her own willful attitude about going her own way. He said nothing. She was a smart lady. She likely knew all the responses already and wouldn’t welcome him saying them aloud.
“So what do we do tomorrow?” Megan asked in an abrupt change of subject.
“Go on about our business, I suppose. With a body in the picture, the cops will take this seriously.”
“But not our protection.”
“That’s a different matter. One I haven’t figured out yet.”
They stopped talking, and the car pulled into a circular drive before a tall, elegant building across the highway that ran along the lake. On one side, headlights, taillights and brake lights flickered past like a galaxy of stars running at warp speed. On the other, more light ran up and up and up like a constellation, or maybe a spaceship racing toward—what? Destruction? A bright and lovely future? Beyond the road, the lake stretched black and infinite in the darkness, only an occasional whitecap whipped up by the wind there to remind them winter was on its way.
Jack prayed for the bright future. He needed good news. He needed rest. He needed reassurance the next hour wasn’t going to be a disaster of accusations.
As though she read his mind, Megan tucked her hand into his and squeezed his fingers. “I doubt your aunt bites.”
“Nope, but she can bark your ears off.” Jack returned Megan’s finger hug and headed for the revolving doors on the front of the building.
Once they were beyond the glass barricade, the air turned warm. Thick carpet deadened the sound of their footfalls. A doorman stopped them to request ID and destination.
“Go on up.” The man gave them both a steely glare. “She’s expecting you, and I never forget a face.”
“Good for you.” Megan’s tone held just a hint of snark.
Jack didn’t blame her. Just because they appeared a little undesirable didn’t mean they weren’t respectable guests.
“Let’s go.” Jack tugged on Megan’s hand. “Before he changes his mind.”
An elevator appeared to be waiting for them. The instant Jack pushed the button, the doors opened. They stepped aboard, and Jack chose the twenty-first floor. When the doors parted on that floor, he turned to the left and strode to the end of the corridor. He hadn’t been there for six years, but he would never forget the location of the condo, with its view of the lake in one direction and downtown in the other. Megan would be impressed.
Or not. Her family probably had an entire house on the lake. Yet she had been excited about an apartment where she could catch a glimpse of the sky blue water.
At the door, he knocked softly in deference to the hour. Aunt Julie opened the door, petite and elegant even in yoga pants and a long shirt.
&nbs
p; He released Megan and held out his hand. “Thanks for letting us come here.”
“You know you’re always welcome.” She ignored his outstretched hand and enveloped him in a flower-scented hug. “So good to see you. I think you’ve grown another two inches.”
Behind him, Megan snorted.
Ears hot, Jack extricated himself from the embrace and made introductions. They entered the flat, the living room with its panoramic view and plush furniture to one side, a dining room to the other. “Do you want anything to eat or drink? I have tea and cocoa and coffee, though it’s late.”
“A glass of water and a bed are all I need, thank you.” Megan sounded quieter than usual and seemed to droop. Even her curls seemed to have lost their vibrancy.
“You look tired.” Aunt Julie cupped Megan’s elbow and guided her down the corridor to the room that had always been Grace’s. “I think you know where to go,” his aunt called over her shoulder.
Jack knew—a pullout bed in his aunt’s home office. He didn’t even warrant a guest room.
Yet Julie had worked hard to make the place comfortable. The bed was out and made up with pillows and a comforter. An extra toothbrush, razor and towels lay on the bathroom vanity, along with a set of pajamas. And she had stuck a sticky note to her computer monitor with necessary passwords should he need to connect to email or the internet.
He probably did need to, but he doubted he could see the screen for more than a few minutes before his eyes crossed with fatigue. He just wanted to sleep so he could think in the morning. Six hours would be good. Eight would be better.
He readied himself for bed and slipped beneath the comforter, falling asleep almost immediately. He intended to set an alarm, so when his phone rang while the sky over the lake was still dark, he thought at first the alarm was going off.
“Why did I set it so early?” he grumbled as he reached for the phone.
By the time it rested in his palm, he realized he had gotten the telephone ringtone mixed up with the alarm. An unknown number was calling him.
He was awake in a snap, sitting up, heart racing. “Yes?”
“Mr. Luskie,” said an unfamiliar voice, “this is your security company...”
Someone had set off the alarm. They had called the police to investigate and wanted to ensure Jack was all right.
“I’m not there and can’t get there for probably an hour.” He searched for his clothes, unable to find them anywhere. Instead, a terry robe lay across the bottom of the bed. Aunt Julie’s work. She had probably taken his clothes to wash, and he had no idea where the laundry room was.
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
Which wasn’t fast at all. Julie slowed him down. His clothes weren’t dry yet, so he may as well shower and eat breakfast. Jack wondered when she slept.
He did as she advised. When he emerged from the bathroom, his clothes lay fresh and still warm from the drier over the back of a chair. He dressed and shoved his things into his pockets. He could forgo breakfast.
But when he walked through the dining room to the kitchen, he found his uncle and aunt standing at the counter where the coffee maker gurgled its last drops of fresh brew into the carafe. Dave was just hanging up the landline. He turned to Jack, his face white.
Jack thought he was going to be sick. “My house?” He barely got out the words.
“It’s all right, thanks to a sharp-eyed rookie. If it weren’t for that...” Dave rubbed his jaw, whiskers rasping beneath his palm. “Jack, that alarm was set off on purpose. Someone wanted you to go home.”
“Why?” Jack posed the question, but he had a good idea about the answer, or something close.
“Your house,” Dave pronounced, “was wired for a bomb to go off the instant you opened one of the doors.”
ELEVEN
“Will you think I’m a horrible person if I tell you I’m glad you’re in the hospital?” Megan perched on the edge of a chair beside her boss’s bed. “I mean, I’m sorry you’re still on oxygen, but I don’t know where else—” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “But I don’t know where else I can talk to you and not worry...much.”
She doubted anyone would try to blow up a hospital just to kill her and Jack. Jack’s house and her own apartment were out of the question at the moment. Bomb squads had been sent to both, Jack’s house to disarm what was there, and her apartment to ensure nothing was there.
Feeling followed, or that the Cahill connection was looking up everyone she knew with the skill of an experienced PI, Megan didn’t want to bring anyone else into this. They might end up the next target.
She felt as though she had a giant bull’s-eye painted on her back. On the way to the hospital, she had considered stopping at a pharmacy and buying hair color. Or at a salon to cut off the long curls for something more manageable. Anything to disguise herself.
She also wanted to go to the beach path and run as fast and as far as she could to lessen the tension of adrenaline racing through her veins. And, for the first time in seven years, she wanted to call her family and warn them to be careful.
Of course she would do no such thing. They would use that as an excuse to remind her she had chosen a dangerous profession and they would still support her through law school or medical school or even an MBA. She would have to repeat that she hated all those options, that being a PI was rarely dangerous, and she liked what she was doing.
Most of the time.
She didn’t like sitting at her boss’s hospital bedside because he was still there after showing signs of pneumonia. Given his age, the doctors had chosen precautions and kept him there with an oxygen cannula hooked on his nose and a disgruntled expression on his face.
“I never would have assigned this case to you if I thought it would have gone sideways like this.” Gary’s voice still rasped from the smoke damage to his throat. “Workmen’s comp fraud is usually pretty cut-and-dried.”
“I know. I’ve done at least half a dozen before.” Megan fixed Gary with a glare. “But to whom else would you have assigned the case if you knew it would end up dangerous?”
Gary let out a wheezing laugh. “You and your boarding school grammar. To whom. Who talks like that outside the Northwestern English department?”
Megan stiffened. “I do, and I’ve never been near the Northwestern English department.”
The university was far too close to home for her liking.
“And you’re avoiding answering my question,” Megan added.
“I know.” Gary sighed, coughed. “You’re the best I have, though Mel might be tougher.”
Megan’s scowl grew.
Gary grinned. “Can’t resist teasing you, Meg.”
“Were you teasing me when you sent Jack Luskie to—what do you call it?—keep an eye on me during my investigation?”
“He told you, did he?” Gary kneaded his forehead as though trying to manipulate an answer to emerge. “I got worried when I found out Cahill was being investigated for embezzlement. Malingering so you can get more money from workmen’s comp is one thing. Embezzling a few hundred thousand dollars is quite another.”
“You couldn’t have just told me she might be...touchy?” Megan blinked back a sudden rush of moisture in her eyes.
She would not let Gary know she could get so angry she cried. She wouldn’t let him know his lack of faith in her was the cause of that tear-producing anger.
“You couldn’t just pull me from the job. You had to send a babysitter?”
“I’m getting too old to have gone with you myself. The ticker isn’t so good anymore.” He thumped his chest. “But I didn’t want you to lose the job, either. I know the commission is important to you, and I couldn’t be of much help if trouble came.”
“Which it did,” Megan said.
“And you didn’t have an old man to slow you dow
n.”
She didn’t know his age but guessed he was somewhere near seventy. His mind was still sharp. He could take bits and pieces of facts and boil them into answers with the speed of a computer finding the square root of ten thousand. But his body, wounded from twenty years in the military, was starting to give out, at least for the sometimes-physical demands of the job.
“Stop trying to gain my sympathy.” Megan had to pretend to be hard-hearted. “I didn’t need a babysitter.”
“Call me a chauvinist if you like, but I prefer to think of it as chivalry.”
Megan snorted. “If you don’t think women can do the job, then why do you hire only women?”
“Thinking about changing that. We should have at least one man—”
“You’re procrastinating.”
Gary grinned, sending the cord of the cannula bobbing on his wrinkled cheek. “All right. Jack called me about our end of the case, and I told him I had my best investigator on it.”
“Trying to butter me up?”
“He said he didn’t know if it was a good idea for you to be going near there alone at night. He said he was finding some pretty serious theft, and people did irrational things when they had that much time in prison waiting for them if they’re caught.”
“Apparently.” Megan slumped forward, her elbows on her knees. “And now we have murder and attempted murder.”
The room fell silent save for the hiss of the oxygen and the usual hospital noises outside the room—patients calling for help, staff calling orders back and forth, the squeak of wheels on a cart. Megan thought she heard Jack’s voice in the corridor, then a woman laughing. Janet, Gary’s wife. Megan would know that lilting sound of mirth anywhere.
Suddenly, she wanted to run into the hallway and ask for a hug. She meant Janet, yet her mind envisioned Jack’s strong arms around her.
She shook her head, sending her ponytail bobbing. “Okay, so it was chivalry.”
“And a good thing he was there,” Gary added.
“Why, so two of us can be in danger?”