by Laura Scott
She wasn’t running away from him, she told herself as she rummaged through her things for the medication. She just wasn’t comfortable with him being nice to her, that’s all.
“Thanks,” he murmured, as he took the pills she held out for him. He tossed them back and swallowed them dry.
“Yell out if you need anything, okay?” she said as she turned and walked back to her room.
“Only if you promise to stop putting yourself down,” he said. “Otherwise I’ll suffer in silence.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” she asked, smiling in spite of herself. “Because if so, you could use more practice.”
“Good night, Mallory.”
“’Night, Jonah.”
After everything that had happened, she would have thought she’d fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. But she kept hearing Jonah’s words over and over in her head.
Did he really think she was smart, beautiful and compassionate?
Did he really know the true Mallory?
Why did that thought scare her more than anything else that had happened since she’d met Jonah Stewart?
* * *
Mallory spent a restless night, and she didn’t even have cracked ribs to blame for her lack of sleep. As soon as the sun was up, she dragged herself out of bed. After a quick shower, she felt a little more human.
There was no sound coming from Jonah’s room, so she decided to let him sleep while she went in search of some breakfast.
The motel lobby had a continental breakfast set out, so she helped herself to a bowl of Cheerios and half a bagel with cream cheese. A family of four left the room, leaving behind a newspaper, and she went over to their table, planning to read while she ate.
But the main headline splashed in big letters across the front page stopped her cold.
Woman’s Body Pulled from Lake Michigan.
Overwhelmed with dread, she quickly read the article, fully expecting that the victim was Claire Richmond. But she was wrong. She had to read the sentence twice before the words could sink in.
The victim was identified as Abigail Del Grato, a young waitress who worked at Salvatore’s. They were still waiting for the ME to determine cause of death, but there was bruising around her neck, indicating she may have been strangled.
Mallory let out a low sound, covering her face with her hands as she remembered the stark fear in Abby’s eyes when they’d spoken about Claire.
Her stomach heaved, and she had to take several deep breaths. That poor frightened girl was dead. Because of them. The young waitress had died only because she’d talked to her and Jonah about Claire. She hadn’t told them anything specific, but her killer hadn’t known that.
Mallory wasn’t sure just how much more of this she could take.
TEN
Jonah eased out of the bathroom, using the wall for support. His effort at showering was pretty useless as the physical exertion already had sweat beading on his brow. At least he’d managed to dress himself. Raising his arms up to pull a T-shirt over his head had almost made him pass out from pain. Too bad they were running low on cash or he’d ask Mallory to pick up some shirts that buttoned down the front.
He made his way across the room, feeling disgustingly weak. His open wound had started bleeding again. He kept forgetting to take the antibiotics and he was afraid infection may have already set in.
Gingerly, he lowered himself into a chair, holding his breath when pain shot through his chest. He couldn’t figure out which hurt worse, having surgery or having a cracked rib.
At the moment, he would have said they were dead even.
“Jonah?” He glanced up in surprise when Mallory came barging through their connecting doors.
The alarm on her face made him jump back to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“She’s dead. Abby’s dead!” She thrust the newspaper at him. “We killed her, Jonah. She’s dead because she talked to us.”
Dread twisted low in his belly as he recognized the name of the waitress who’d spoken to them outside Salvatore’s. He took the newspaper, sank back into the chair and read through the article.
It didn’t take long to realize Mallory was right.
He knew in his gut Abby’d been murdered because she had talked to them.
Knowing they hadn’t forced her to talk to them didn’t make him feel any better. He’d gone to Salvatore’s restaurant on purpose. He’d poked the sleeping tiger with a stick, hoping for a reaction.
But he’d never anticipated something like this.
Dear Lord, forgive me. Please forgive me!
“What should we do, Jonah? Call the police?” Mallory’s voice was thick with suppressed tears.
This time, he couldn’t offer any comfort. Not when the acrid taste of bitterness coated his tongue. And especially not when the last time he’d held her in his arms, he’d been stupid enough to kiss her.
Feeling grim, he set the newspaper aside and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I’ll call Detective Butler, the guy I met with yesterday.”
“Maybe we should go back to Milwaukee.” A small tear escaped from the corner of her eye, rolling down the side of her face. He resisted the urge to wipe it away. “I don’t care if they arrest me for killing Wasserman. I can’t do this anymore, Jonah. I just can’t.”
He didn’t want to admit she might be right about going back to Milwaukee. Abby’s death proved the stakes in this game were high. Too high. He’d always known Caruso was playing for keeps, but he hadn’t bargained for this. He couldn’t bear knowing innocent people had already suffered as a result of their attempt to find proof against Caruso.
They needed help. Clearly, he couldn’t break this case without assistance from someone within law enforcement. But he couldn’t trust anyone within his district, either.
The only other contact he had was Rafe DeSilva, his buddy in the Coast Guard who’d helped him track Jefferson’s yacht after Alyssa had been captured. Since he couldn’t prove drugs were involved, and the crimes weren’t taking place on the water, the Coast Guard didn’t have any jurisdiction. But he hoped Rafe could get him in touch with someone who worked for the FBI.
At this point, he and Mallory needed all the help they could get. And then some.
* * *
Jonah made the call to Nick Butler, but the detective didn’t answer so he left a terse voice-mail message asking for a return call. He was just about to call Rafe DeSilva when Mallory returned with a Styrofoam plate heaped with food.
“Please eat something, Jonah,” Mallory urged, pushing the plate of food toward him. “You look pale.”
“Thanks.” He wasn’t that hungry, but took a few bites of bagel because he knew he’d need his strength. He
dialed Rafe’s number, wincing at the early-morning hour.
Rafe sounded suspicious as he answered. “Yeah?”
“Rafe, Jonah Stewart calling. I’m sorry to wake you, but I really need your help.”
“Do you have any idea what time it is, amigo?” Rafe demanded in his thick accent. “And this is my day off. I’m spending well-deserved time with my family.”
“I’m sorry. But I promise this won’t take long. I’m in trouble. Didn’t you have a friend who left the DEA to work for the FBI?”
“Yes, Logan Quail. What do you need him for?”
“I have a problem and can’t go to my boss. I need the Feds.”
“I don’t know if Logan will be able to help you. He’s been on a special task force busting up organized crime.”
Perfect. Logan Quail was exactly what he needed. His muscles relaxed as he realized he’d made the right call. “Yeah, well, organized crime is exactly why I need him. Can you give me his number?”
“Sure.” Rafe rattled off the number while Jonah hastily scribbled it on motel stationery. “Is this about Hugh Jefferson by chance?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t surprised Rafe connected the dots back to Jefferson. A
fter all, they wouldn’t have saved Alyssa and Gage without Rafe’s help. They’d been forced to jump off the burning yacht, and Rafe’s Coast Guard cutter had been there to pull them out of the water. “I’m trying to get evidence against the guy in charge of the whole money-laundering operation. Thanks, Rafe. Tell Kayla I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“No problem. Stay safe, my friend.”
“I’ll try.” Jonah closed his cell phone and took another bite of his bagel.
“You’re calling the FBI?” Mallory asked her eyes wide. “Do you think they can help us?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. The bureau likes to run things their way, and I’m not sure they’ll believe your story. But it’s possible this friend of Rafe’s will help us off-grid.”
“Off-grid? You mean unofficially?”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean.” He stared at his phone for a minute before punching in the number Rafe had given him. He could only hope that calling Logan Quail wasn’t another mistake.
Because if he put Mallory in danger one more time, he was never going to forgive himself.
* * *
Mallory wasn’t sure she liked the idea of bringing more people into their investigation. Wasn’t it bad enough that the one person who’d already talked to them was dead? She could remember, all too clearly, the stark fear in Caruso’s ex-wife’s eyes when they’d met at Crabapple Park. Too late now to undo any damage her impromptu request for a meeting might have done. She could only hope that Rachel Camille Simon and her son, Joey, would be safe.
The thought of anything happening to them made her feel sick to her stomach.
“Logan?” Jonah said into the phone. “Rafe DeSilva gave me your number. I need help bringing down the top guy in Jefferson’s money-laundering scheme, but I don’t want this information to go through the Fed’s normal channels, at least not yet.”
There was a pause while Jonah listened to the FBI agent. She leaned forward, trying to hear what was being said but she couldn’t distinguish much except for the hint of a Southern drawl. Was it possible this Logan guy wasn’t even close to them? For all they knew, he was down in Texas somewhere.
“I’m glad you’re familiar with the Jefferson condo project. I also have some additional information you might find interesting but I don’t want to go into everything now. I’m out here on my own and I need you to promise you won’t bring the rest of your team into this until we have the proof we need.”
There was another pause, shorter this time, giving her the impression Logan had indeed promised.
“That should work,” Jonah agreed, glancing at his watch. “I’ll figure out a way to get back to Milwaukee in the next four hours.”
Four hours? What on earth was he talking about? She wasn’t sure how they were going to get anywhere. And she doubted they had enough cash to take a taxi all the way back to Milwaukee.
The thought of going home filled her with a strange sense of dread. She hadn’t been in her condo in almost a full week, yet it seemed more like a month. During those first few days at the cabin, she’d wanted nothing more than to go home. But that was then.
For some reason, she couldn’t stand the idea of going back to her old job. Not that she minded her work—decorating was fun and she had an eye for color. But after everything that had happened over the past few days, she had a new perspective on life. Being an interior designer seemed so useless. A fluff job.
Truthfully, her entire life was useless. How much time had she wasted playing the role of someone she wasn’t? Too much time. She was stunned to realize she wanted to do something more. Something important. But she couldn’t be a nurse, like Alyssa. Or a cop, like Jonah.
Then what? She hated to admit she had no useful skills.
“Okay, thanks, Logan. See you later.” Jonah snapped shut his disposable cell phone and finished off his bagel.
“You really think we can trust this guy?” she asked, dragging her mind back to the issue at hand.
“We don’t have a choice. We can’t do this without help, Mallory. You said so yourself. And if you remember, it was your idea to go back to Milwaukee.”
Her thoughts were contradictory. Why was she so upset about getting more help? She should be glad they had another expert on their side, a federal agent no less. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d been much help. “As long as Logan doesn’t arrest me, I’ll be fine.”
“He won’t.” Jonah’s phone rang and he looked down at the screen to see who was calling. “Detective Butler, thanks for calling me back. I need a favor. Will you give us a ride to the closest train station? I have some information to share on your latest floater.”
She couldn’t hear what the detective said on the other end of the phone, but he must have agreed because Jonah nodded. “We’ll be ready. Thanks.” He turned toward her. “Go and pack your stuff. Butler is going to be here in thirty minutes.”
She crossed over to her room. There wasn’t much to pack, aside from the new clothing she’d purchased. Since she had extra time, she went through her purse, cleaning out the junk she’d accumulated.
Way down at the bottom, she discovered a bracelet Caruso had given her in the first couple weeks of dating. She hadn’t even remembered keeping it. She stared at the square-cut rubies and diamonds with distaste and seriously considered tossing the gaudy thing into the wastebasket.
But Abby’s words from last night echoed in her mind. She planned to go to the police with what she knew, and then cash in the expensive jewelry he’d bought her so she could start over someplace new. Had Caruso given Claire jewelry the way he’d given Mallory this ruby-and-diamond bracelet?
“Mallory?” Jonah called from his room. “Are you ready?”
She dropped the bracelet back inside her purse, tugged its strap over her shoulder and picked up her bag. At the last minute, she added the Bible to her bag. “Yes. I’m ready.”
There’d be plenty of time to get rid of the bracelet later. Besides, she thought, it was probably best not to leave anything too personal behind in the motel room anyway.
Jonah’s coplike instincts were rubbing off on her. And so was his faith. She hadn’t told him, but the few prayers she’d said had seemed to work so far. Maybe she was crazy for starting to believe, but she’d decided he was right when he’d told her believing in God couldn’t hurt.
She murmured another quick prayer as she went out to join Jonah.
* * *
She didn’t say much as Detective Butler drove them to the train station. She listened as Jonah explained what had happened the night before.
“Abby Del Grato actually said Claire was gone and wasn’t coming back?” Detective Butler asked incredulously. “And that Claire was planning to go to the police with what she knew?”
Jonah nodded. “Yeah, but she didn’t give us anything more. I’m convinced the reason she was killed was because someone caught her talking to us.”
“Too bad she didn’t come forward when we interviewed her along with the other employees.” Butler sighed heavily before glancing at Jonah with suspicion. “And how did you know Claire used to work as a waitress at Salvatore’s anyway? I didn’t tell you that.”
“It was a lucky guess on my part, but why didn’t you tell me?” Jonah countered.
“I didn’t even think about it.” When Jonah didn’t say anything, Butler shot him an exasperated glance. “Come on, you don’t seriously think I withheld pertinent information on purpose?”
Mallory held her breath as the tension between the two of them rose to a palpable level. Maybe Jonah shouldn’t have trusted the Chicago detective.
“I don’t know what to think,” Jonah finally muttered. “We spoke briefly to Abby outside the restaurant. And then our motorcycle was tampered with, causing us to crash. And we know Salvatore is a strong financial supporter of Caruso. So it just makes sense that this is all connected.”
“Maybe Salvatore is the one who killed Claire, rather than Caruso,” Mallory sa
id, breaking into the conversation.
Both men swiveled around to stare at her. Detective Butler turned back to concentrate on the road, but she still had Jonah’s attention. “What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “I mean, we know Claire was dating Caruso, because there were pictures of them together, but she also worked at Salvatore’s. Who knows why she was silenced? The fact that it happened a month after she and Caruso had broken up makes me think Salvatore is more likely to be the guilty one.”
“You have a good point,” Jonah agreed slowly. “Either way, it’s obvious the cases are connected.”
She thought so, too. When the detective pulled up to the train station, she gathered her belongings and opened the door.
“Thanks for the loan,” Jonah was saying as Butler slipped him some cash. “I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The detective waved him off. “Consider it payment for the help you’ve given me on this case. I think we’re going to have to take another long look at Salvatore’s business dealings, see if we can connect him to any other crimes.”
“I’d like to stay in touch, if that’s okay.” Jonah shook hands with Butler.
“I’ll count on it.” With one last wave, the detective climbed back in his car and drove away.
Mallory followed Jonah inside the downtown train station, gazing around apprehensively. She’d taken the train to Chicago before, but her senses were hyperaware as she scanned the crowd of people milling about the station. After being on the run for so long, the crush of people was unnerving.
“At least this time we get to sit on proper seats,” Jonah said as they prepared to board the train.
“True,” she agreed with a small smile, remembering the cargo train.
As they settled in side by side, she pulled out the Bible and prepared to read. Just sitting and staring out the window would only drive her crazy.