by Mary Calmes
"You used my name," he said slowly, his voice deep and low. "If I don't show I lose face, so here I am."
I nodded. "Thanks for coming."
He squinted at Carrington. "You're not mine. Who are you?"
"He's nobody," I said quickly. "I just need to drop him off at the airport."
Rego nodded, called out the airport to his driver.
"Have you forgotten about the party?" The man sitting across from Rego asked him.
"No," he said, eying me. "Come here, I want to look at you."
I got to my knees and crawled across the space to him.
"You look like you got beat up."
"It was a while ago."
He nodded and reached for me, taking hold of the front of my sweater and easing me forward between his legs until I was almost against his chest.
"I really appreciate this. The FBI agent was a pain in the ass."
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
So I explained how I was in for obstruction and how Special Agent Calhoun had put me there. "God knows how long he was gonna stay mad. He's gonna bust something when he goes to look for me and finds out I'm gone."
"Special Agent?"
I nodded.
"FBI, Jory?"
I nodded again.
He hit me before I even realized he was planning to. The refrigerator stopped my momentum backward. At least I didn't hit my head.
We were dumped in front of O'Hare, Carrington climbing out unscathed, me being thrown out, bloody, twenty minutes later. He sat beside me on the sidewalk and used the sleeve of his shirt to pinch my nose shut, since it was bleeding.
"You're amazing."
I closed my eyes a minute so they wouldn't water. I didn't feel amazing.
"Your lip's split, Jory, and I think you're gonna have a black eye. He hit you really hard."
It had definitely felt like it. I was surprised I hadn't been knocked unconscious. I had seen stars.
"Now what?"
"Now," I said, taking a deep breath, passing him my cell phone. "You call your mom."
He took it, looking at me. "What should I say?"
"Tell her you're coming home."
I looked out across the parking lot from my sitting position on the curb and was surprised when he suddenly grabbed me.
"You're the best friend I've ever had and I've known you like an hour."
"Promise me you'll never come back here," I said when he let me go.
"I promise," he whispered, and he started shaking as the tears came.
Together we got up and walked into the terminal.
I went to get my ticket for Dallas, and Carrington got his for Raleigh, and when we were done we met at the golf store.
I bought a hoodie because I was freezing, and he got a polo shirt and a hoodie as well. We washed our faces, cleaned up so we didn't scare people, and ate dinner, with him asking me a million questions at once. When I watched him get on the plane two hours later, saw him turn and wave, I had an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. He was safe because of me. Put a line down in my good deed column for the day.
When I was sitting in the boarding area waiting for my flight, my phone rang.
"Hello?"
"I'm going to kill you, Jory."
"You gotta get in line to kill me," I told Rego and hung up.
He called back seconds later. "The FBI, Jory?"
"Just deny you ever saw me. They've got no proof it was you, and that officer was careful. He told us to put our heads down when we walked under the surveillance cameras."
Heavy sigh. "I'm sorry I hit you. I'll drive back around in front of the terminal, come out and meet me."
"You had a lot of guests in the car, I don't wanna interrupt."
"I dropped everybody off, it'll just be us."
"Unfortunately I have a plane to catch."
"What?"
"I'm leaving," I sighed. "When I get back, I'll call you. I really do appreciate you busting me out. When Sam comes to see you, just—"
"Sam? Who's Sam?"
I sighed deeply. "Detective Sam Kage. He's working the case I'm involved in. When he calls you—"
"Jesus, Sam Kage?" he breathed. "Are you kidding?"
"No."
"What are you wrapped up in, Jory?"
"Some kind of witness protec—"
"Lose my number," he ordered and hung up.
Apparently I had stumbled onto the one thing that scared Rego James... the FBI, and a little Sam Kage thrown in for good measure. It would have been funny if I didn't feel like crap. Just watching Sam's calls come in one after another to my phone was painful. I wanted to pick up and talk to him, but I also knew that if I did I was done. I could not have my phone call traced because I could not afford to be found. I needed to clear Caleb's name and I needed to go to Dallas to do that. The key to saving Caleb was in finding out everything about his mother. I wouldn't stop until that was accomplished.
An hour later, as I sat in coach listening to the flight attendant welcome passengers onto Flight 233 with nonstop service to Dallas-Fort Worth, I sank into the chair and tried to figure out what I was going to do next. My idea was good.
Since Susan Reid was in Chicago, I would go Fort Worth and see what there was to find at her house. They had checked Caleb's apartment, but not Susan's house. I was going to save my friend. Just because he loved his mother didn't mean that he deserved to pay for her crimes.
* * * *
The airport in Dallas was huge, but being from Chicago, I had no problem with it. In the cab, I chatted up the driver and asked him where I should go to pick up some clothes. He drove me to the Galleria, where I picked up a couple of pairs of jeans and socks, T-shirts, all the essentials, as well as a fleece-lined denim jacket. I didn't want to stick out. I grabbed a beanie, a pair of gloves, and shoved my old stuff into a duffel bag. When I went back outside to wait for a cab, I realized it was dark already. I had been too pumped up to sleep on the plane, and now, as I was finally tiring, I had no room or place to sleep. The good news was that from the grand I had taken out as a cash advance between my American Express and my Visa, I still had almost five-fifty left.
My second cab driver was even more helpful than the first and knew exactly where the closest Internet cafe was. I sent Dane an e-mail that I was all right. As it was connected to his phone, I knew he'd get the message quickly and be able to relay it to Sam. I wasn't in any danger, since the two people responsible for all the murders were thousands of miles away from me. I wasn't worried about Dane or Sam, though, as they had lots of people, plus one another, looking out for them. What I needed was a motel so I could sleep.
I was driven to a really nice bed and breakfast that had curtains on the windows, tubs in all the rooms, and brass beds. I was in the Magnolia room, and besides the pictures on the walls, there was soap and lotion and shampoo to match.
It was very quaint, as was the antique Princess phone and the sink shaped like a flower in the bathroom. I got in bed after a hot shower and didn't even get under the covers. I was too tired to even dream.
Chapter Twelve
My morning agenda was twofold. First I had to call Sam, and second I needed to go to Susan Reid's house and take a look around. See if I could find anything to incriminate her.
Knowing something in your heart and proving it were two very different things. As I headed out after breakfast, walking toward the street, I called Sam.
"Jory."
"Hi." I smiled into the phone "How are you?"
Long silence.
"Sam?"
"Jory... Jesus Christ, Jory! Where the fuck are you?"
"I'm fine."
"That's not what I fuckin' asked! Where the fuck are you?"
Up to that point I had thought I'd heard every variance in Sam Kage's voice. But cold fury had been missing from the repertoire without my knowledge. I had never, ever heard him so angry.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I really am."
"You have no ide
a how sorry you're gonna be."
"What does that mean?"
"That means that when I get you—"
"You won't leave me, will you? You're not so mad that you're gonna move out or something?"
"I haven't even moved in yet!" He was incredulous.
I laughed because it was absurdly funny.
"Jory!"
"What?" I chuckled, wiping my eyes. He was a riot.
"Tell me where—"
"I was just worried... I hoped you weren't so mad that you would leave me."
"Are you kidding me? For fuck's sake, Jory, there's not gonna be anything left to leave! I'm gonna fuckin' beat you
'til—"
I sighed deeply. "Beating's fine, just so long as you stick around."
There was a noise, and then an even icier voice.
"Where... precisely... are you?"
"Hi," I said. "Is Carmen okay?"
"Yes, Jory, Carmen's fine," Dane said, clipping his words, using the crisp tone I hated more than anything. "Where are you?"
"I'm all right now, even though the bruise from where he hit me—"
"Hit you? Who hit you?"
Muffled sounds and then, "Who hit you?"
"Rego James," I answered the love of my life. "But I'm fine. It just looks bad." And it did. When I had seen myself in the mirror in the morning light, I looked worse than I thought. I had a black eye and my lip was split.
"When were you with Rego James?"
"In the car."
"In what car?"
"His limo."
"Rego's limo," he clarified.
"Yeah."
"When?"
"Last night."
He growled at me. "And he hit you?"
"Yeah but I kinda deserved it. I freaked him out a little."
"Jory!" He exploded, pushed to the edge.
"Sorry," I sighed, "I'm really... I know I'm makin' you nuts."
He cleared his throat. "Okay... tell me now where you are."
"In Dallas."
He coughed.
"Sam?"
"Are you fuckin' kidding me?"
"What?"
"You left the state?"
"Yeah, I hafta save Caleb."
"Jesus Christ," he groaned.
"Sam, he's innocent, I know he is."
"And so you're gonna do what... find something nobody else could and vindicate him?"
"Yes," I said confidently.
"Jory, there are—"
"Jory!"
Dane had taken the phone back. This was fun.
"Is Aja all right?" I asked my brother.
"What?"
"Is Aja—"
"Aja's fine. She's with her folks and policemen and her very own bodyguard, who could kill most people with his pinky, so you don't worry about her. Right now we need you, and very shortly you're going to get a visit from the Dallas PD, and they're going to take you in for us and keep you safe until we get there."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," he corrected me. "So I suggest you sit tight and wait for them."
He was so full of crap. "Look. I really wanna see Susan and Daniel's house. I have a theory."
"Oh, I'm sure you do."
"Listen, Dane, I—"
The noise cut me off, something moving over the phone.
"Jory, you need to listen to me." Sam again. "I want you to just—"
"I can't stop now, Sam."
"You're just gonna keep doin' whatever the hell you think is right, aren't you?"
"Yeah," I told him honestly. "I hafta save Caleb."
"Jory—"
"He's innocent, Sam, I know he is."
"You don't know shit. You're just hoping that he—"
I grunted, cutting him off.
"Agent Calhoun wants to talk to you."
"Is he gonna put me in jail again?"
"No, Jory, what would be the point? You would just get out."
I chuckled and he growled at me.
"Jory," Sam's deep, resonating voice came over the line.
"Tell me where you are."
"I'll call ya later. I just wanted you to know that I was okay."
"Hanging up would be a mistake."
I hung up and climbed into the back of the cab that stopped for me.
The ride was long and boring and when I finally got to the house I was antsy and close to being claustrophobic. I felt the same way I did after a long plane ride, like if I didn't walk around I would just snap and start screaming.
Standing beside the mailbox next to the road, I saw how lush and manicured the front yard was. There were solar panels on the roof, three Golden Retrievers playing together in the front yard, and two hybrid SUVs parked in the driveway. The front of the house was a wall of windows, and I saw someone moving around inside. The trumpeting barks from the dogs brought Gwen, Caleb's sister, out the side door.
"Jory," she called over to me, waving.
I waved back as the dogs continued to bark at me.
"Shut up!" she yelled at them, which—surprisingly— worked the first time.
I watched her closely, unsure of what to do.
"Come here," she motioned me close. "Hurry up, it's cold as shit out here."
So not the greeting I was expecting. "Hey." I waved at her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, stepping down.
"I was in town for business and I thought I'd come see ya."
She let the screen door slam shut and rushed forward to hug me. "I'm so glad to see you."
"Me too," I sighed, hugging her back.
"Ohmygod." She jerked away, looking at my face. "You are not gonna believe this, but my folks are actually in Chicago right now."
I squinted at her. Was she kidding?
"I know—how funny, right?" She widened her eyes before turning back toward the house.
What about her brother? "Gwen?"
She turned around to look at me as I let the screen door close and then the kitchen door after that. "Yeah?"
"Honey, what about Caleb?"
"Oh, he's doing okay. Why?"
I just stared at her.
"What? Are you gonna see him while you're here too?"
I wasn't sure if she was messing with me or not.
"Jory?"
"What are your folks doing in Chicago?"
"Mom said they had to go see Dane about something." She made a face.
"What?"
She shook her head.
"Gwen?"
She let out a quick breath. "The business isn't going well, J. If Dad wants to keep helping other people go green, he's gonna have to either get a loan from Dane, get other investors, or get a partner. He doesn't like the idea of the investors or the partner, so I think he went to hit Dane up for money."
I nodded. "That's where they are? In Chicago, asking Dane for money?"
"Mom said they were going to see Dane and I'm not stupid. I hear what's going on, ya know?"
I didn't think she was stupid, but she was out of the loop big-time on this one. "So can I ask you a favor?"
"'Course," she yawned. "You want a mocha? I'm making myself one. Casey bought me a cappuccino maker for my birthday last month."
"Casey?"
"My boyfriend Casey," she giggled. "I only talk about him all the time."
"The paragon of virtue Casey." I smiled. "I remember."
She swatted my arm. "Jory, just because you're a huge slut doesn't mean everybody is."
Gwen Reid and Casey Mills had been dating for five years and they had, as of yet, never had sex. The whole no sex before marriage thing had me stumped, but I respected the choice if nothing else.
"So?"
I shook my head. "No thanks on the mocha thing, but do you think you could help me find all the stuff your mom has about Dane's adoption?"
She squinted at me. "Sweetie, all that stuff's in the safe, I'm sure, but... why do you wanna see it?"
"I just really wanna find the agency that put him up for adoption, because
I think maybe the Harcourts had another child that I wanna check on."
Her eyes got big. "You think the Harcourts adopted Dane and somebody else?"
It was a juicy lie. "Yeah. I think maybe Dane has another sibling out there, but I can't even dig until I know the agency."
"Okay." She nodded "Let's go see what we can find."
I was led to her father's den and then directed to the safe in the floor behind his desk. Gwen knew the combination and once it was opened we found it the deed for the house, invoices for various supplies and merchandise, birth certificates, picture negatives, five thousand dollars in cash, passports, and an extra sets of keys.
"Sorry, J." She sighed. "I would have thought this is where it would have been."
"Can we check her room?"
"Sure." She yawned, locking the safe. "C'mon."
We climbed the stairs to the second floor and Gwen explained that to the right was her father's room. I looked at her.
"Yeah, I know. But my parents have always had separate rooms. My dad snores like mad and my mom does this freaky throat-clearing thing in the night. It's all phlegmy and gross."
I smiled at her as we passed his room and walked to the next one.
Susan's room was connected to her husband's through a door, just like at a hotel, except there was no lock on either side. Which made sense. Why would there be a lock?
"Cute, right?"
Big is the adjective I would have chosen. Susan Reid's bedroom was all wood floors and a huge four-poster bed done in what looked like mahogany. It was very dark and just a little creepy. The entire wall at the headboard of the bed was comprised of drawers.
"You want me to help you look for any paperwork?"
"That'd be great."
Gwen carefully went through drawers with me, but after a half an hour left me alone to go get another cup of coffee.
She promised to bring me back a bottle of water. As soon as she walked out the door, I went immediately to check between the mattress and the frame of the bed. There was nothing there, but that gave me another idea, and I checked underneath all the drawers in the room.
There was nothing anywhere, and when Gwen came back, she told me that she could just call her mom and ask the name of the agency. She felt stupid for not thinking of that earlier, but she had gotten caught up in feeling like a detective, looking for a clue with me.