by RJ Blain
Before joining CARD, I had been different—a lot different. I had thought things through, taking my time before acting. Jake represented everything I needed in my life—that I needed in CARD and hadn’t found. I had worked hard to maintain an appearance of stability, something I needed and my partner had provided.
The man had a point; we worked well together on and off shift. Marriage hadn’t been something I’d considered. Men had wanted one thing from me: sex. After learning that lesson, I had abandoned dating and marriage as viable options.
Some men were a lot more aggressive about getting sex than others. Jake had spent four long years putting up with my shit without acting like he wanted anything other than a partner he could trust.
I wasn’t doing a very good job of talking myself out of marrying Jake.
When Ma and Pops found out, they were going to skin me alive and drape me from their porch railing. My parents were the type who took marriage seriously; if my guess was right, they were waiting for the day I bothered to date anyone or take an interest in having a husband. If Ma had her way, she’d plan a nightmare of a wedding for her enjoyment. Pops would go along with it, because he enjoyed the idea of marrying me off almost as much as Ma did.
I snapped my fingers. “There’s a flaw with your plan. You still need someone to handle the actual marriage part of things.”
“Already have a plan for that. I’ll waylay a judge. I’m not above waylaying a judge at the courthouse. I’ll make sure we arrive a few minutes early, abuse the privileges of my badge, and con one into handling the legalities.” Jake glanced up from his phone and smiled at me. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.”
“You know, a normal woman would be running for the hills screaming in terror right now,” I pointed out.
“Why the fuck would I want a normal woman?”
“That’s a very difficult point to argue,” I conceded. “Fine. Answer me this, at least. Why?”
“A woman like you comes around once in a man’s lifetime, and we’re a lot of things, but we’re not stupid.”
I lifted my brows, braced my elbow on the edge of the jacuzzi, and propped my chin in the palm of my hand. “Oh?”
“See? This is exactly why you should marry me. You call me out on my bullshit. For that alone, you should take a detour to a courthouse in the morning with me and make me the happiest man alive. Take responsibility for your actions, Karma Clarice Johnson.”
I faked a heavy sigh. “I suppose, if I must.”
“I’m afraid you must. I’m holding you responsible, after all.”
“Worst marriage proposal ever,” I muttered.
“Yeah, it was pretty awful, Karma, but I’ll forgive you this once. I’m generous like that. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me somehow.”
“You’re such an asshole, Jake.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what you like about me. Who else is going to put up with your shit?”
The man had a point.
“Well, when you put it that way…”
Twenty before eight in the morning, Jake parked the Corvette at a small courthouse near the Ohio and Pennsylvania border. I yawned, reaching for my coffee only to discover my cup was empty. “Well, shit.”
“Can you last thirty minutes?”
“Do you value your life?”
Jake laughed, grabbed his coffee, and handed it to me. “Maybe if you hadn’t eaten like a starved beast this morning, you wouldn’t still be half asleep. Drink mine so you don’t hurt someone, yourself included.”
“It’s your fault. You exploited my weakness for waffles.”
“Did you really have to steal mine, though? You’re not feeling sick, are you? I was going to order bacon and eggs but then remembered your unfortunate incident with the breakfast sandwich.”
“It isn’t even eight in the morning, and I’m sitting in a Corvette with my FBI partner waiting for a courthouse to open so we can, apparently, get married. I’m pretty sure that waived your rights to your waffles. I’m fine.”
Unlike yesterday, the introduction to foods other than pepperoni pizza wasn’t haunting me yet. Dinner hadn’t settled well, but I had managed to keep my chicken where it belonged.
Jake reached over and gave one of my ponytails a tug. “We’re buying you new clothes on the way to Johnstown.”
I batted his hand away. “Shut up, Jake. I’m dressed like this for a reason.”
“I don’t have to like it. At least you’re wearing more than you were yesterday. Couldn’t you wear a knee-length skirt or something?”
“What sort of rebellious high school student wears a knee-length skirt?”
Sighing, Jake shook his head. “You make a good point.”
“Why are we doing this again?”
“I’d go with the madly in love with each other angle, but you’d probably laugh at me.”
“Probably?”
“Definitely. You’d definitely laugh at me. We’ll just say I’m madly in love with you. You took pity on me and agreed to marry me so you wouldn’t have to watch a man cry.”
I checked the clock, unbuckled my seatbelt, and got out of the car, taking Jake’s coffee with me. Bending over, I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. Like yesterday, he was wearing a suit, and I liked the way the dark blue looked on him. “It’s your fault I kept eating pepperoni pizza.”
I shut the door and headed for the courthouse, which was connected to the local police station. A cop was standing on duty near the building, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as I headed his way.
I’d add the tally to my notepad later. Before he could say a word, I whipped out my badge and FBI identification card. “FBI. Any chance you can get us in early?”
“Us?” The cop looked over my badge and card before handing them back to me.
I pointed in the direction of the Corvette, glancing over my shoulder to see Jake walking towards me, his hands in his pockets. “He’s my partner.”
The cop chuckled and unlocked the door, waving us inside. “Sure, I can let you in. No problem.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“Who handles civil applications?” Jake asked.
“What sort?”
“Marriages, divorces, and so on.”
The cop pointed to the reception area. “That way, sir. The lady behind the counter over there can help you.”
“Thanks.” Jake planted his hand between my shoulders and pushed me in the direction of the counter. “You can’t run away now, not after telling me you ate pepperoni pizza for two months straight because you missed me.”
“You’re never going to let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance in hell. Just hurry up and marry me so we can get back to work.”
The instant the clerk realized she was issuing a marriage license to two FBI agents, she called over the judge. By the time we were finished with the basic paperwork, we had an audience of curious civil servants. The judge, chuckling between advising us of the legalities of what we were doing, married us on the spot.
I had lost my mind somewhere but decided it would take too much work to go find it, especially when Jake seemed to be enjoying himself so much.
My partner grinned and laughed his way through the entire process. Within twenty minutes we were finished, escaping the courthouse and the amused men and women who wished us well and good luck.
I was going to need all the luck I could get.
“Did we really just do that?” I demanded on the way to the Corvette.
“We sure did, Mrs. Thomas.”
“I filled out the name change form, didn’t I?”
“You did. It was the bright yellow one. Weren’t you paying attention to what you were signing?”
“I haven’t had enough coffee yet,” I confessed.
“You’ve had three and a half coffees so far today. How many do you need to function, woman?”
“I’d normally be on my second pot by now. I think. Maybe third. We done here?”
“One st
op left,” Jake said, unlocking the Corvette and sliding behind the wheel. “For the record, those shorts are killing me, Karma.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re going to be watching my back, then. If the stop involves a clothing store, you won’t live to regret it.”
“Your waiver clearly states you are not allowed to kill me.”
“Jake.”
“Jewelry store. We need rings.”
“Rings?”
“You know, wedding rings? They’re typically metal, worn around the left ring finger, and are used to indicate the wearer is unavailable for romantic pursuits.”
“You were serious about the rings? Jake, if we both show up in New York wearing rings, they won’t need to investigate anything.”
“I’ll keep mine in my wallet in the meantime.”
“Why do I have to be the one to wear the ring? Why can’t you?”
“I’m not nearly as gorgeous as you are. You have a reputation of being very secretive about your personal life, thus it’s plausible you were seeing someone. It’s no secret I don’t date, and there are a lot of people who can verify I haven’t been seeing anyone. Therefore, you should be the one to openly wear the ring.”
I tried to make sense of Jake’s logic and decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. “Do the rings come with coffee?”
“I suppose the rings could come with coffee if necessary.”
“I need coffee, Jake. I need coffee now. I have a lot of phone calls to make, and I can’t handle them without coffee.”
Laughing, Jake backed the Corvette out of the spot and went on a hunt for a coffee shop. Five minutes later, I had coffee, and once the first few sips were in me, I got on the phone and gave Daniels a call using the Corvette’s sound system.
“Good morning,” Daniels answered. “What do you need?”
“You promised us an update. Anything new on the wire?”
“The rest of your team is headed to New York to question Henry’s relatives.”
“They’re slow.”
“Too slow.”
The anger in Daniels’s tone warned me of trouble. I didn’t know my supervisor’s boss that well, but I’d been in the FBI long enough to know he was about to start issuing orders I wouldn’t like.
“You’re considering taking the team off the case,” I guessed.
“The team is about ten minutes from being dissolved. This is unacceptable.” Daniels inhaled, was quiet for a long moment, and exhaled long and slow. “You and Agent Thomas will remain a permanent pairing. I’m in the process of looking for a CARD team able to take you both.”
If the CARD team was dissolved and reassigned, we’d be off the Henry case, which didn’t settle well with me. “I have some leads I want to follow.”
“I haven’t nullified your waiver yet. Until I have a new CARD team to take over, your team is still on the case. Once the new team takes over, I’m going to have to call you both back in.”
“How long do we have, sir?”
“You have twelve hours. Make the best of them.” Daniels hung up.
Once we were kicked off the case, we’d be cut out completely; while the possibility existed we’d learn the outcome of the case, neither one of us would be permitted to help find Jacob or interact with the replacement team.
If we were lucky, Daniels would assign us to the team taking over the case, but I doubted it.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say something happened,” I announced, staring at my phone, wondering what I was missing.
“Sounds like a solid assumption to me. What isn’t he telling us? More importantly, why isn’t he telling us?”
“Hell if I know. Time to put this Corvette to the test.” I reached under my seat and searched around for the magnetic light stashed there. When I found it, I lowered my window and plunked it on the roof before plugging it into the cigarette lighter. “Do you remember how to drive, Jake, or do I have to show you how it’s done?”
Chapter Twenty
I took care of notifying the local police we were on the move, giving them a description of the Corvette and our planned route while Jake handled the driving. We got lucky with traffic, and despite the fact we hit Pittsburgh at rush hour, the car’s sirens and magnetic light cleared us a path. I was starting to believe yellow paint really did make the car go faster, because we made far better time than I could have hoped for.
An hour and a half after leaving the courthouse, we reached Johnstown. I killed the light and hid it under the seat. “Our first stop is Haney Street; it’s beneath the Route 56 overpass. The principal said it was a popular spot with the kids.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Guard my car and watch my back. You’re dressed too pretty for this. Pretend you’re my dad or something. You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.”
“You are such a bitch sometimes.”
“Why are you stating the obvious?”
“It amuses me.” Jake made his way into town and exited the highway, driving to the parking lot near Haynes Street. “Got your gun?”
“Gun, badge, handcuffs, phone, wallet,” I replied, patting myself down to confirm I had everything. Most of my things were in my coat pocket since there weren’t many places in my shorts to stash things.
I wasn’t ready to stoop to using my cleavage for storage quite yet.
“If you need help, scream.”
“If you hear gunfire, assume I’m screaming in my head and forgot to vocalize.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“Don’t go scaring people off. If anyone asks if you’re Kitty’s dad, the answer is yes. Tell them I’m researching an art project or something.”
“Kitty?” Jake made a show of shuddering, earning a punch to the arm. “Heaven help me. I have a daughter named Kitty? Do I look old enough to have a daughter named Kitty? I don’t want to name my daughter Kitty.”
While I hadn’t asked him if he wanted kids, Jake loved them almost as much as I did; it was part of what helped me accept him as my partner. “Man up, Jake. Don’t start whining on me now. Kitty is the name I gave one of the elementary school kids. Why would a girl like me hang out with a guy like you unless you’re my father? At least you look like you should own a Corvette.”
“Okay, fine. I have a daughter named Kitty. Fill me in so we’re on the same page.”
“I told Elizabeth, one of the elementary schoolers, that I was home schooled; something about my father giving me the Corvette. I probably stole it out of the garage, but you have me on your insurance, of course. You’re smart enough to know I’d steal it anyway. Saves a lot of hassle if I’m legally permitted to drive it.”
“You’re a terrible daughter. I must lose a lot of sleep over you.”
“You’ll live. Just play along.”
“Roger. Call me if you need me for anything. I’ll be watching up here, probably cursing you for making me stop here for whatever reason you contrived.” Jake got out, leaned against the Corvette, and glared at me, his arms crossed over his chest.
I nodded, got out of the car, and headed beneath the Route 56 overpass, marveling at how Johnstown had turned what was typically considered an eyesore into a work of art. Green lawns and flower beds contrasted with the mix of statues and artistic graffiti decorating the pillars of the bridge.
It had been far too long since I had gotten anywhere near something I’d classify as a crime scene. Very few people were out, although I noticed a few adults with younger children likely in elementary school. As I wanted, I drew attention, and I strolled around the green space, noting the older homes and more industrial buildings nearby. The pillars and the underlying structure of the bridge would offer me the most opportunity for clues if there had been any sort of violent crime in the area; with so much time having gone by since Jacob’s disappearance, it’d be difficult to find useful evidence unless I got lucky and stumbled on something Jacob had left behind.
Pulling out my phone
, I took pictures of everything, hoping to get a chance to blow the images up and have a closer look at them later.
I explored beneath the bridge, aware of people watching me as I examined everything, making certain to keep as bored an expression as possible. Within five minutes, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair starting to go silver at the roots approached me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.
“This is for school,” I complained, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets and making sure I kept my coat closed so my gun wouldn’t show. “Art.”
“Then where is the rest of your class?”
The best part of acting like a rebellious high school student was not having to hide my annoyance when people bothered me. I lifted a brow, met the woman’s glare, and snorted my disgust at the entire situation. “It’s a class of one. I’m home schooled, lady. Don’t like it? Complain to my old man.” I took my hand out of my pocket and pointed in the general direction of the Corvette. “He’s by the yellow car if you want to take it up with him. I’d like to get this over with sometime today, if you don’t mind.”
I couldn’t tell if I had offended her, shocked her, or both, but she backed off and headed in the direction I had pointed. Biting my lip so I wouldn’t smile, I resumed my examination of all the pillars and sculptures, making a point of taking a picture of everything.
Halfway through, I spotted something odd about one of the pillars, which was partially masked by the boughs of a pine planted nearby. I stepped closer, pretending to look at the abstract pattern painted on the bridge support. Bullets made a distinctive mark when they struck concrete, and the damage was recent enough the powder from the impact hadn’t washed away. The design of the art did a good job hiding the marks, and it wasn’t until I got close I realized one of the bullets was still lodged in its hole. I crouched and examined the entry points, which were around three feet from the ground.
The paint, which was a mix of browns, reds, and yellows, had masked the presence of blood spatter. I snapped photographs while the sinking feeling of dread cramped my stomach. I scooted closer to the pine, searching for the second bullet.