Guarding His Midnight Witness

by Anna J. Stewart

  “Like my skull?” Greta’s strangled laugh scraped against Jack’s heart. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone in so much emotional pain. She looked so confused. So lost. “No, I don’t mind.” She glanced at Jack. “I promised, didn’t I?”

  “You did. Thank you.”

  Ashley flicked a look at Jack, then her bag. Jack took the cue and handed the bag over. Ashley poked and prodded, earned a few flinches of pain from Greta. “Definitely some bumps and bruises. I’m going to want to take a closer look at that shoulder in a minute.” She switched on a small penlight and peered into Greta’s eyes. “No sign of a concussion, but we’ll keep an eye on that. Now about the pills, Greta?”

  “Um, yeah.” Greta licked her lips and frowned. “I took one when I got home. For anxiety. But that’s it.” She frowned, as if she wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’m not sure they’re working. They usually make me foggy and sleepy, but—” she lifted her hands that continued to tremble “—it won’t stop.”

  “Do you mind if I look at your prescription?” Ashley asked.

  Greta shrugged. “Go ahead. It’s in my medicine cabinet. Master bath, near the right-hand sink.”

  “Thanks. Jack, I’ll be right back.” Ashley zipped around the sofa and disappeared down the hall.

  “So, you have a sister, and she’s a doctor.” Greta twisted her legs under her on the sofa and tucked her hands between her knees. It was like watching a turtle pulling into her shell. “That’s nice.”

  “It is most of the time.” Because she seemed to need it, he sat on the coffee table so he could stay in eyesight. “She neglects to mention she’s younger than me.”

  Greta’s eyebrows arched.

  “Yep. She’s that smart. Zoomed right ahead of me in school. I went to her high-school graduation before I went to my own.”

  Greta’s smile almost looked real.

  “What?” Not that he minded. She was so pretty when she smiled. All he wanted to do was hold her, soothe her, tell her everything was going to be all right. Except he couldn’t do that. Not because it was completely inappropriate to become involved with a witness but because he didn’t know what or who she’d seen.

  “You don’t hate that nearly as much as you pretend to,” Greta said. “I can see it on your face. You’re proud of her.”

  Jack made a pffth sound and earned another laugh. “What about you? Is there someone I should call? Parents? Brother or sister?”

  “No.” The curtain dropped back over her eyes. “No, my parents died when I was very young. I have a guardian, an honorary uncle really, but he’s in New York. I don’t want to bother him with all this. I’ll tell him about it when he comes out for the show.”

  “No friends?”

  “None I want to call. If you want to leave—”

  “I don’t.” Jack reached out for her hands. “I’m not going anywhere.” He suspected she wouldn’t appreciate him noticing the tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Do you have any other family other than Ashley?”

  Jack let her change the subject. “The typical. Mother, father, an older brother.”

  “Let me guess, he’s a theoretical physicist.”

  “Try again.”

  “Rocket scientist?”

  “Nope.”

  “An Indiana Jones wannabe?”

  This time Jack snorted. “Hardly. He manages my parents’ deli back in Chicago. Makes a killer pastrami.”

  “Wow.” She frowned. “So a doctor, a small-business owner and a police officer. Quite the combination.”

  “You mean why is one of these things not like the other?”

  “I guess. Why did you want to be a cop?”

  She was trying to distract herself, he thought. Finally, she’d inadvertently given him something to do. “I think that—” he stood up as Ashley returned from Greta’s bathroom “—is a discussion meant for a dinner date. Everything okay?” he asked his sister.

  “Other than the fact I’m having an unrequited love affair with that bathroom, everything’s peachy.”

  Jack didn’t get the joke. What was it with women and bathrooms?

  “I probably should have warned you.” Greta sighed and started to roll onto her side but sucked in a breath so harsh Jack felt it in his own teeth. “Well, that hurts.”

  “Let’s get that shirt off. Jack, do you want to go brew tea or something?” Ashley fluttered her lashes at him.

  “No.” He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t want to let Greta out of his sight, either, especially since she’d told him more about her past in the prior few minutes than she ever had previously.

  “Well, then, you get to play assistant,” Ashley said. “Come on, Greta. Let’s sit you up.”

  “If it’s broken, I’m screwed,” Greta groaned as she cradled her left arm in her hand. Jack pushed her up, and Ashley guided her feet to the floor. “I’ve got work to do before my showing.”

  “Let’s not borrow trouble just yet. This is such a shame.” Ashley fingered the ripped edges of the fabric. “It was a beautiful blouse.”

  “I’m not meant to wear pretty,” Greta joked with a weak laugh. “The tie is just under here.” She started to pull her left arm up.

  “I’ve got it.” Jack bent down and unknotted the fabric.

  “So not how I imagined this evening ending,” Greta mumbled. “Ah, ow.” She swore and dropped her head back. “Sorry. I sound like a baby.”

  “You sound like you’re in pain,” Ashley said as she drew the fabric apart and then gently slid it down her arms. She pressed her fingers gently into Greta’s skin beginning at her wrist, moved up slowly, to her shoulder. Greta sucked in a breath. “The good news is it’s not broken.” She pressed harder. “Sorry. Need to...” Even as she prodded, Jack could see the bruises forming. “Nope, joint is fine. I thought maybe you’d dislocated it. Just a bad strain, but there you go.”

  “Awesome.” Greta shifted her gaze to Jack’s as Ashley helped her into a loose shirt she’d brought from the laundry, adjacent to the bathroom. “Doesn’t compare to a bullet in the chest, though.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Jack tried to smile through the concern. He didn’t like seeing her hurt, so much so he had trouble focusing on anything other than her. “But Ash here helped fix me up. She’s the best.”

  “He’s sucking up because he keeps messing up my sushi order,” Ashley teased. “I’m going to hold off on any pain meds until you sleep off the other pill you took. That okay?”

  “More than.” Greta scooted down on the sofa. “How about I start now?” Her eyes drifted closed.

  “What the—” Jack’s stomach lurched into his throat.

  “She’s okay.” Ashley stood up and caught him before he pounced. “Let’s let her sleep. We can get her into a sling later. If she’s still in pain tonight, she can come in for X-rays tomorrow. Now.” She planted her hands on her hips and pinned him with a look. “Where’s my sushi?” Jack’s phone jangled and at his helpless shrug, Ashley heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. Answer it.”

  Seeing Vince’s name blink onto the screen, he moved into the kitchen, sparing a last glance at a now sleeping Greta. “McTavish.”

  “Hey. I thought you’d want to know, I’ve got some information.”

  “On Fremont?” Vince’s slight hesitation spoke volumes. “On Greta?”

  “Yeah. Look, I don’t know if this means anything, Jack, but it’s something you’re probably going to want to have a conversation with her about.”

  “Spit it out already,” Jack kept his voice low as he pulled open the fridge and grabbed a soda. Then, remembering his sister was still here, exchanged it for a water. “What did you find?”

  “It’s more what I didn’t find. For whatever reason, her past only goes back ten years. Before that? There’s nothing on record.”

 
Jack shouldered the phone and twisted open the bottle. “So, you’re saying...?”

  “I’m saying that before ten years ago, Greta Renault did not exist.”

  Chapter 7

  Because he’d done little more than pace Greta’s loft while she’d slept off the pain pill Ashley insisted Greta take, Jack found himself at the station at sunrise, determined to grab a few hours’ sleep before resuming the investigation. If only his mind would stop spinning. The information Vince had given him about Greta was intriguing, although less than fruitful.

  It wasn’t so unusual, he kept telling himself. People reinvented themselves all the time; changed their names. Moved around. Kept to themselves. But that wasn’t often done with teenagers. Not without a court-compelling reason. She’d mentioned her parents had died when she was a little girl, and she’d referred to her guardian as just that, her guardian. Reinventions like this were extraordinary and only fed Jack’s stifled curiosity.

  A curiosity he’d satisfy himself. He asked Vince to shift his focus completely on to Doyle Fremont. Whatever Greta was hiding, she’d been keeping it to herself for a long time. Or maybe that was it, Jack reasoned. Maybe she was in hiding. Witness protection, maybe? Who knew?

  But he needed to know. Not only to satisfy his curiosity, but to make sure nothing in her past was going to interfere with any case they might bring against Doyle Fremont. Not asking her the questions would put his career and future at risk, not to mention the people he worked with. He was banking everything not only on the word of a witness who was being less than forthcoming about her past but on his own shaky judgment. It would take learning about one to solidify the other.

  At least he could stop worrying about Greta for a little while. Ashley, who was tired of being cooped up in his condo, was more than happy to stay with her patient if it meant easing some of Jack’s concern.

  Greta. That wasn’t her name. Not her real name. But so far, Vince hadn’t been able to unearth who she might have been prior to ten years ago. Or, maybe and more importantly, what would have caused her to change her identity. Given the roadblocks Vince had encountered, Jack would bet the only thing that would give him the answers he needed was an honest tough-love conversation with Greta Renault.

  Exhaustion crept over him, which was no doubt what had him falling into a deep sleep the second his head hit the anemic so-called pillow.

  It felt like only minutes later when a sharp rap on the door to the coffee room dragged him awake. He bit back a groan, pressed hard fingers into his eyes and pushed himself up. “Yeah?” If whatever Bowie had to tell him wasn’t case-altering, he was going to find out firsthand how long it took to strangle a man to death. “I’m up,” he called. “What is it?” He shoved his head into his hands and scrubbed at his hair. When he looked up into the open doorway, he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t still dreaming. “Cole. You’re back? But I thought—man, what time is it?” His head felt as if it had been wrapped in cotton. He rubbed a hand against his aching chest.

  “Almost ten.” Detective Cole Delaney lounged against the doorframe and looked at Jack with a critical, albeit friendly, eye. Why did the guy always look like he’d stepped out of a designer-menswear ad? The super-high-end kind. Not the Here’s the sales rack kind. “I got an SOS from the LT yesterday.”

  “Why would he do that?” Jack asked.

  “Other than Bowie’s ditched you for a family emergency in San Francisco?” Cole aimed a doubtful look at Jack that told him his partner didn’t buy that explanation for one second. “He didn’t really say, just thought you could use some help with a new case. Man, you do look raw. Eden and I took a late flight back. Got in around midnight.”

  “Santos must think I’m going off the rails if he called you. You didn’t have to do that. You were on vacation.” Even as he said it, he was glad to have his partner back. After hearing Vince’s report last night, the need for a steady rudder in this case was even more important.

  “I was into my sick days,” Cole shrugged. “So it’s just as well. So are you?”

  “Am I what? Coming off the rails? No.” The response was automatic, but because he knew he could trust Cole, he slipped back into uncertainty. “Yes.” This time yesterday he was brimming with optimism and excitement, ready to take on not only Doyle Fremont but also the world. Now? It was as if that car that missed hitting Greta had somehow slammed into him and thrown him completely out of whack. He sighed, dropped his hands and looked up at his friend. “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s get out of here. Find some coffee and talk.”

  Cole wasn’t just back, Jack noticed of his partner and best friend, but he was also ready to work. Cole had his badge clipped to his belt and his sidearm in place. But it was the gold wedding band on his finger that Jack knew brought Cole the greatest sense of pride. Not to mention accomplishment, Jack thought as he dragged his jacket off the hook by the door and followed Cole into the bullpen, where he unearthed a clean shirt from the bottom drawer in his desk. Eden St. Claire had not made things easy on anyone over the years, especially Cole. In the end, though, it hadn’t mattered. “Where’s Eden?”

  “Back on the boat.” Cole’s prized possession was the 1960s gentleman’s cruiser he’d somehow convinced Eden to live on. “She’s got new notes to organize on the cold case she’s checking. She probably won’t surface until tomorrow.

  “Eden is a bit of a Rottweiler when it comes to her cases,” Cole said. “Five kids, all from the same town, all vanished within a year. And no movement on the evidence at all. She won’t let that stand. Solving cold cases, bringing closure to families, it’s her calling.”

  Yes, Jack thought. Yes, it was.

  “So.” Cole pushed open the station-house door and they headed outside into the blissful, cool morning air. “You want to fill me in?”

  “That depends.” Jack smirked. “How fond are you of your career?”

  * * *

  “Either you move like a ghost or I sleep like the dead.” Greta might have leaped ten feet in the air if she hadn’t caught sight of Ashley, her Jack-appointed babysitter, moving into the studio out of the corner of her eye. “As I know it’s not the latter,” Ashley said, “you must be feeling better. How’s the shoulder?”

  Paintbrush in hand, Greta faced Jack’s sister and tried to ignore the frown on the other woman’s round face when she noticed Greta had ditched the makeshift sling. “Better.” Truth be told, it still hurt, but she was pushing through. Focusing, however distractedly, on her painting was helping.

  “Headache?”

  “Barely noticeable,” she lied, wondering what Ashley was thinking as the physician walked around her studio.

  “You didn’t take any more pain pills?”

  “I told you, I don’t like—”

  “Pills.” Ashley turned, all traces of sleep gone. She looked at Greta as if peering through a microscope to examine an unknown organism. “For someone who doesn’t like taking them, you certainly have a stash of them.”

  “Everyone has a hobby.” The joke didn’t land, but Ashley didn’t push back.

  “How long have you been up?”

  “Since—” Greta glanced at the clock on the counter by the door “—three, I think?”

  Ashley nearly tripped on one of the tarps covering the floor. “Three this morning? That’s almost seven hours.”

  “Okay.” Greta paid special attention to swirling her paintbrush in the glass of paint thinner. Her stomach clenched as it always had when she was forced into a conversation she didn’t want to have. “I’m most productive when the rest of the world is asleep.” And she had been productive. For the first time in months. Just not in the way she’d expected.

  “I was the same in med school,” Ashley said. “Used to drive my roommate nuts. Greta, as your current medical provider, those pills—”

  Greta closed her eyes. “I don’t want t
o talk about it.”

  “Too bad. Those are powerful antipsychotics, Greta. Does Jack know?”

  “No.” That question got her attention. She blinked and glanced at Ashley. “Why would he?”

  Ashley arched a brow. “Because you’re involved. Or if you aren’t yet, you soon will be. The two of you are like a flashing billboard when you’re together.”

  “We are not.” Greta’s face went hot.

  “Please.” Ashley rolled her eyes.

  Unfamiliar nerves fired under her skin. “Jack and I haven’t known each other very long. We haven’t reached the are you sure you have a grip on reality? phase of our relationship yet.” Except they had. Yesterday. And they’d blasted beyond it. If she’d seen who she thought she saw yesterday, the same man she’d seen the first night... Terror slithered up her throat, but she swallowed hard. Greta rearranged the tools on her small worktable beside the nearly finished painting she’d done only hours before. It had been mountains that called to her this time. Fire-tipped mountains with a swirling blue smog and scaled, purple dragons in the distance. It all felt so much safer than the real world. Afterburn, she was calling it.

  “You’re the main witness in a case that, in his words, is a political powder keg. This case could destroy Jack’s career if he’s wrong about anything, Greta. If he’s wrong about you.” Ashley caught sight of the large canvas Greta had thought she’d hidden better. Most of the image was obscured by a bold, green fabric, but given Ashley was more than familiar with the subject, of course it would have captured her attention. “Well.” She stooped down, pushed the fabric aside and stared into the eerily accurate image of her brother. “That’s impressive. And quite personal. Not very long, you said?” She looked over her shoulder at Greta.