by D. L. Wood
“Just one minute, let me check on it,” he said, sliding out from behind the counter and half-jogging towards the kitchen. After a few minutes, he returned with a large brown paper bag filled with foam boxes and set it on top of the counter. Pulling the stapled ticket off the side of the bag, he turned towards Chloe and declared, “Thirty-four, sixty-eight.” She paid and, leaving the sounds of the cheerful guitar behind her, stepped out into the night.
She had just turned the corner into the alley that led to the back parking lot, when a sleek, black Mercedes zipped up beside her, slamming to a halt and trapping her between it and the brick wall, leaving her nowhere to go.
THIRTY-THREE
There was no guard posted outside Reese McConnaughey’s hospital room door.
At first it surprised him, but then he realized that there had been no reason for them to think anyone would actually come back to finish the job. His warning had been about the kids, not further damage to the man inside the room. But still, it would have been smart to put someone there. Just in case.
After all, here he was now, just feet away from Reese McConnaughey and there wasn’t a person in sight to stop him from finishing what he had started.
The stainless steel door knob turned soundlessly, and he entered the dimly lit room. Reese, still unconscious or sleeping, lay in the bed beneath a thin sheet. The lights of the monitors on the rolling stand beside him kept watch over his blood pressure and heart rate, silently blinking.
He looked small in the bed. Harmless. But that would all change if he woke. He could do so much damage if he started talking.
He walked up to the railings that prevented any accidental rolling out of the bed. The metal was cold against his skin as he reached over it and fingered the intravenous lines in Reese McConnaughey’s arm, pumping in pain meds and who knew what else.
A loud banging out in the hallway jerked him out of his thoughts. It was busy, and the shifts would change soon. If he waited too long, someone would almost certainly interrupt him.
It was time to do what he came to do, and get out.
THIRTY-FOUR
“Hey!” Chloe bellowed at the same time a hulking, besuited man exited the front passenger door of the Mercedes, leaving it open so that she was further blocked in. “What do you think you’re doing!” Chloe snapped incredulously, as he stepped to her, then opened the rear door, giving them both a direct view into the back seat.
“Good evening, Ms. McConnaughey.” The calm greeting issued from a petite woman dressed in a pale pink linen business suit. She looked to be in her early sixties, her silver hair curled in a loose bob that framed her lined face.
“Good evening?! What’s going—?”
“Ms. McConnaughey, I’m a friend. I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
The man extended an arm, as if ushering Chloe into the back seat. Chloe eyed the woman like she had escaped an asylum and was still wearing the hospital scrubs to prove it. “Absolutely not. I am not—”
Before she could finish, the man beside her had muscled her into the car and shut the door behind her.
“Hey!” Chloe yelled, scooting back against the door and trying to wrench the door open. It was locked. “Let me out!”
“I’m sorry, Ms. McConnaughey. Abraham must have misunderstood you. He thought you wanted to get in and was just assisting you.” The car started moving.
“Yeah, right!” Chloe exclaimed, panic setting in as she was forcibly reminded of being stuffed into a car less than a year ago by the syndicate in Miami that had ultimately tried to kill her. “I want out. Now.”
“Of course. We’ll be happy to let you out.”
“Sort of hard to do while the car is moving,” Chloe sniped, as he pulled onto Franklin Road.
“Pearson,” the woman said, directing her comments to the driver, “let Ms. McConnaughey out as soon as you come to a safe spot to pull over.”
Jabs of fear sliced through Chloe as she evaluated her situation. They weren’t going that fast. There were a lot of people around. She could probably jump out without causing any real damage. But the door was locked.
“Unlock the door,” Chloe ordered.
“We aren’t here to hurt you, Ms. McConnaughey.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Chloe barked, anger and fear trading punches in her gut.
“We’re here to offer assistance. If you’ll give me a few moments, I’ll be glad to explain.” The woman’s voice was clipped, but with a hint of Southern sweetness to it. It was disarming and daunting all at once.
“You’ll take me back to my car?”
“We’re circling back around to it now,” she said, as the driver pulled into a left turn lane at the light. “By the time we get there I’ll be done. Sound good?”
“Who are you?”
A well-manicured hand showcasing a simple, diamond-encrusted band, slid a business card to Chloe across the cocoa leather seat. Elise Banyon, Banyon Associates, Memphis, Tennessee.
“What—you’re a lawyer or something?”
“Or something. But I do represent Mr. Eli Drake and Vettner-Drake. I understand you visited Mr. Drake today seeking information regarding his involvement, or rather lack of involvement, in Mr. Donner’s Franklin project.”
“Holt Adams—he’s Kurt Sims’s attorney—asked Mr. Drake some questions. I was only there as an assistant.” Chloe’s nerves hummed as she tried to maintain her composure.
“I see. Well, either way, we want to reach a mutual understanding regarding Vettner-Drake’s lack of involvement in said project and avoid any further unnecessary entanglements.”
“I’m not sure I—”
“As Mr. Drake explained today, neither he nor Vettner-Drake had any financial interest in Mr. Donner’s project, having declined on multiple occasions to make an investment.”
“That’s what he said. So why are you here now?”
“Because your Mr. Adams made it clear that, despite what Mr. Drake told him, he believes Mr. Drake has information on the subject. Mr. Adams also made it clear that he is willing to drag Vettner-Drake through the legal mill, if you will, to get it. We would rather avoid that. I’m sure you can understand how expensive and time-consuming a wild goose chase like that would be.”
“I’m sure.” Chloe struggled to keep her voice steady as more adrenaline kicked in.
“If you’ll examine Mr. Donner’s financial records with regard to the project, you’ll find that what Mr. Drake has told you is true. You are wasting your time looking into Vettner-Drake.”
“Well, we don’t have those records. Or at least,” she hedged, thinking about the discovery documents they had yet to go through, “we wouldn’t know it if we did. And I doubt Mr. Donner’s people are going to just hand them over.”
Banyon reached towards Chloe and turned the business card over in her hand. A time and address were written on the back. “In the case of Donner Properties, Mr. Donner’s ‘people’ consist of his accountant and his wife. Donner Properties was a closely held outfit. You have an appointment with them, at Donner’s home, at ten o’clock tomorrow, at which time they will make available to you everything that you need to confirm Mr. Drake’s comments to you.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Chloe eyed Banyon. “You seem to know a lot about Mr. Donner’s business for someone whose client wasn’t involved in that business.” She delivered the barb with more confidence than she actually felt.
“I never said Vettner-Drake wasn’t involved with Mr. Donner. It simply had no involvement in this particular project. Mr. Drake knew enough about Mr. Donner’s project to know it wasn’t the right investment for Vettner-Drake.” She stiffened. “So, after tomorrow, we would appreciate it if you would avoid contacting Vettner-Drake or Mr. Drake regarding this matter. As I’m sure you’ll realize, further contact would not be beneficial to anyone.”
“Is that a threat?”
Banyon snorted gently
. “No dear. It’s just the reality of the situation and an attempt to avoid an unnecessary waste of everyone’s time and money. And now,” she said as the car rolled to a stop, “you’re back at your car. As promised.”
They were, in fact, already back in the parking lot behind the Hot Chicken House, and the driver had stopped directly behind Chloe’s car. It unnerved her even more that they knew which car was hers. The man Banyon had called Abraham was out his door and had already opened Chloe’s door before she had shifted her weight off it, causing her to fall out a little before regaining her balance. Breathing deeply, she gathered herself and stepped out onto the pavement. Refusing to turn her back to them, she took small steps backwards towards her car. Abraham closed the rear Mercedes door behind her and returned to the front seat. As Chloe reached blindly for her driver’s door handle, the Mercedes’s rear window rolled down again, revealing Banyon once more.
“Ten o’clock tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
Ignoring the internal warning her gut was sounding to get out of there while she could, she pressed Banyon one more time.
“Why not just call Holt with this information? Why go through me?”
Banyon’s mouth rounded into a condescending smirk. “Ten a.m. tomorrow, dear,” she replied, just before her window rolled up and the Mercedes pulled away.
* * * * *
“Holt!” Chloe’s voice boomed through the kitchen as she barreled inside, her purse swinging from one arm, the take-out bag in the other. “Holt!” she bellowed once more, setting the bag on the counter. “Ho—”
She spun around and slammed into him. “Hey, I’m right here,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and setting her back from him. “We were about to text you to see where you were. Listen, you’ve got—” he cut himself off, taking in her frantic manner. “What’s the matter?” he said, eyeing her more closely, concern breaking out on his face. “You don’t look right.”
“This, this…woman. Elise Banyon. She threw me in her car and—”
“Wait, what? Slow down.”
Chloe inhaled deeply and started again. “This woman had her car pull right up next to me and had some thug throw me in the back seat. She said she wanted to talk—”
“Is everything okay?”
The words sounded from the door behind her, spoken by a voice deeper and richer than Holt’s. Chloe snapped her head up.
Jack Bartholomew stood in the doorway, worry furrowing the brow above his narrowed emerald eyes.
THIRTY-FIVE
“Jack!” Chloe yelled, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.
“You okay?” he asked, pulling back so he could see her face and better gauge her answer.
She nodded, her face split in a wide smile. “It’s nothing. Just…oh, I’m so glad to see you.” She kissed him, then pressed into his chest while he wrapped his arms around her.
“You didn’t sound okay just now. You sounded really upset.”
She pulled back, just enough to see his face. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just—well, I’ll explain in a minute.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing to—” Holt started under his breath, before Chloe shot him a repressive look. He stopped talking as she turned her attention back to Jack.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Pounding sounded from the stairs, followed by Tyler running into the kitchen. “Hey, Chloe. I’m starving! Is that it?” he asked, pointing at the take-out bag, as Emma walked in behind him.
“He’s been whining about it for half an hour,” Emma said, eyeing Jack, whose arm was still around Chloe.
“Emma, Tyler, this is Jack,” Chloe said.
“Yeah, we met earlier,” Emma explained, while Tyler tossed Jack a head-nod that Jack returned.
“Can we eat in the den?” Tyler asked.
“Sure, buddy. Just keep it off the carpet,” Holt told him as the kids ripped into the bag and started doling food onto plates. “Look,” he said, turning to Jack and Chloe, “I’m gonna head out.”
“Don’t,” she said, taking his forearm, not noticing Jack stiffen ever so slightly at the gesture. “I’ve got plenty of food and I need to fill you both in on what happened earlier. Stay.”
He mulled this over for a moment. “All right. Dinner. But I don’t think you need me staying over tonight.”
“He’s been staying over?” Jack asked.
Chloe’s eyes cut to Jack. “For the kids. They know him, and they were scared with the intruder still out there…”
“Oh. Right. Makes sense,” Jack agreed, although there was a whiff of skepticism in his tone.
“But obviously,” Holt piped in, “you’ve got a Navy SEAL here now so…”
“So,” she continued for him, narrowing her gaze as a caution to cut it out, “grab some chicken and let’s talk.”
Following her lead, the two men took their food into the dining room, away from prying ears. As they ate, Chloe filled them in on what had happened when she left the Hot Chicken House. She handed Banyon’s card to Holt.
“She’s set it up for ten in the morning.”
Holt examined the card, flipping it back to front. “A little vague for a business card.”
“I asked if she was an attorney or something,” Chloe explained. “She said ‘or something.’”
“So we’re just supposed to show up tomorrow and Donner’s people will just hand us everything we need to eliminate Vettner-Drake from this investigation? Just because she says so? You know, I made a call to Donner’s wife earlier today.” He shook his head. “I got nada. Zip. She made it quite clear she wasn’t speaking to anyone representing the man accused of murdering her husband. But this Elise Banyon shows up and suddenly we’ve got a meeting? There’s something screwy here.”
“And why approach Chloe?” Jack asked, his hand resting on her arm. “Why grab her up that way? Why risk it just to make a point?” For most of the discussion, Jack had sat quietly beside Chloe at the dining room table, where they had made a small clearing for their plates in the forest of files. Now he tensed as he spoke of Chloe being forced into the car.
Holt shook his head. “They wanted to be intimidating, and that was a pretty good way to do it. Catching her alone, on the street like that? They wanted us to know they’re serious about being left alone. And Banyon’s really not risking much by doing it. She’ll just argue Chloe misunderstood the invitation to talk. They dropped her at her car within five minutes. No real harm done.”
“Still. It seems like a lot of trouble to go to if Vettner-Drake really isn’t involved,” Jack argued. “Why not just turn the papers over, let you see that there’s no connection, and have it be over and done.”
“Again, the intimidation factor. Maybe Vettner-Drake’s involved with this project and maybe not, but either way, I’m guessing that it’s not a completely above-board operation. They don’t want us looking too deep. My guess is they’re hoping their actions tonight unnerved us just enough that we’ll go look at the documents tomorrow, and when we don’t find anything, we’ll just decide it’s not worth it to push the issue anymore and we’ll just walk away.”
“But I’m guessing you don’t scare easy,” Jack appraised.
“Nope. But, the ironic thing is, Drake might be telling the truth. His company might not be involved with Donner at all. In which case, I wouldn’t have really cared what they’re doing. If there’s no connection, I would have been more than happy to drop it. But now, with this stunt, they’ve got me curious.”
“So you think we should go in the morning?” Chloe asked.
“We?” Jack echoed, concern evident in his voice. “Why do you need to go?”
“Some lunatic is threatening the kids,” Chloe said, her head gesturing towards Emma and Tyler, blasting away on their video game in the other room. “I won’t feel good about leaving until we know who that is. Reese is out of commi
ssion and Holt’s on his own. I want to help end this if I can. As soon as possible.”
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Holt seemed to second guess his presence. “Umm, you know what?” He glanced at his watch perfunctorily. “It’s probably time for me to go. I actually have hearings tomorrow afternoon that I need to prepare for.” He rose, moving to gather up his plate and utensils.
“Leave it,” Chloe said. “I’ll get it.”
“Here, let me,” Jack offered, collecting the used plates and heading toward the kitchen. Chloe and Holt followed behind, carrying the glasses. Chloe put hers down, then went to retrieve the kids’ plates. When Holt set his glass in the dishwasher, Jack caught his eye. “Hey, I want to thank you for looking out for her,” he said, nodding at Chloe. “And her family. It means a lot to me.”
“Not a problem. Reese’s family means a lot to me too.”
“I can see that,” Jack said, his tone genuine, but heavy.
“So,” Chloe said, returning with the kids’ plates and pushing past Holt to load them in the dishwasher, “I’ll walk you out?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks. Good to meet you Jack,” he said, shaking Jack’s hand, then calling out a barely-acknowledged goodbye to Emma and Tyler. While Jack continued clearing the kitchen, Chloe escorted Holt to the kitchen side door, where he turned after stepping onto the outside landing.
“So that’s your mystery man, eh?” he teased in hushed tones.
“Stop it.”
“I thought you were on the outs.”
“I never said—we aren’t on the outs.”
He didn’t look like he believed her. “You still planning on coming tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Definitely.”
“I don’t think he’ll like that. And I don’t think he likes me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m just saying. Did you see the way he looked at me?”
“He’s just worried.”
“Yeah, but about what?” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“Not funny.”