by Gina LaManna
Russo met my gaze. “Let’s get out of here.”
I stood, shoved my chair in, and headed toward the door. My hand was on the knob when he spoke.
“Maybe I’ll talk without my lawyer,” Elliot said. “But you’ve gotta give me something.”
I spun on my heel, returned to the table. I crossed over and perched myself on the desk next to Elliot. “Here’s what I’ll give you. We’re chasing a murderer who’s already killed since his escape. There’s going to be a long trail of bodies if we don’t catch up to him. And judging by the things we’ve heard from up north; they’ve got nothing to go on.”
“Because Wilkes is a genius.”
“I’m not denying it,” I said through gritted teeth. “Which means we need something on him. I can guarantee it’ll look good if you were the one to give us the information to catch up to him. We’ll get you a call to your lawyer after this and get everything documented for your next court appearance.”
“I don’t trust cops.”
“Nor should you,” I said. “I don’t trust anyone, least of all you. We’re taking a chance on you, Elliot. If your information sends us on a wild goose chase, it won’t be good for you. I will personally do whatever I can to make sure you serve the full sentence.”
“Who says I know anything?”
“I looked at your records. You’ve got a son, don’t you?” I waited for the implication to sink in. When Elliot’s gaze wavered for the slightest of seconds, I pounced. “You’ve been a saint in prison—except for your relationship with Wilkes. You want out as early as possible on good behavior. Your baby’s gonna be what—in his twenties when you get out? What if you could cut that time down, see him sooner?”
“What do you want to know?” Elliot’s words were tinged with disdain.
“I’m not the bad guy. We can both win,” I said. “You haven’t killed anyone—yet. It won’t be that hard to get you out of here early, especially with your record. So, tell us—how did Wilkes do it? How did he get out of here?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t still be in here.”
Russo exhaled a loud breath. “Let’s get out of here, Rosetti. He’s got nothing.”
“Shut up!” Elliot snarled at Russo. “I mean, he didn’t let anyone else in on his plan. He’s not that stupid.”
“Did you know he was working on an escape?”
“I suspected it. He’d say things while we were eating... things like what he’d do on the outside.”
“What sort of things?”
“Like eat a real pizza,” Elliot said dryly. “He didn’t confess to any future murders, if that’s what you’re asking. He wasn’t an idiot, but it was his way of telling us he wouldn’t be in here forever. A guy with a life sentence doesn’t talk about eating pizza when he ‘gets out’.”
“Could he have done it on his own?”
“I doubt it. But I wasn’t any sort of confidant. We just... got along.”
“When did he start dropping hints about an escape?”
“Right away,” Elliot said. “I think he had a plan since the day he arrived. But things changed, oh, I dunno, six months back.”
“What sort of changes?”
“He went to the library. Got into writing stuff.”
“Writing stuff?”
“A book? Love notes? Letters? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “He was getting mail from someone. I assumed it was like, a lover or something, but I didn’t ask.”
“Why would you assume it was a lover?”
“Who else would you write to on the outside? The dude never said a word about family. I don’t think he had any. Then again, he never seemed interested in anything—ladies, dudes, nada. Not even a dirty magazine. Nothing. It was like he didn’t care at all about sex, so I dunno—maybe it wasn’t romantic.”
“Did he keep any of these letters?”
“Maybe in his cell. But knowing Wilkes, he probably tore them up into pieces and ate ’em.”
“His letters?”
“The dude is crazy. Brilliant, but psycho.”
I glanced at Russo, then back to Elliot. “You don’t have any guess as to who he was communicating with on the outside?”
“No. And I didn’t really think anything of it, to be honest. I think it was a girl. It looked like chick-writing.”
“I thought you didn’t see the letters.”
“I didn’t. But I saw an envelope once.”
“What qualifies as ‘chick-writing’?”
“You know, neat. Legible. How many dudes do you know who write pretty?”
I made a mental note to get a handwriting sample of Jonathan’s from Jennifer. I didn’t trust Elliot’s unscientific analysis of the envelopes Wilkes had received. But it wouldn’t hurt to take a look and see if Jonathan’s handwriting might qualify as especially tidy.
“Did he ever have visitors?”
“No, not one. I mean, you can check the logs, but nobody came to visit him,” Elliot said. “Who’d want to?”
“Who’d want to help him escape?”
“That’s the thing with Wilkes. He gets in your head—convinces you that you want to help him. That he’s not so bad. That you’re a team.” Elliot shrugged. “Or, he kills you.”
“Sounds about right.”
Elliot gave me a flicker of a smile. “I do want to get out. I want to see my son, but I don’t have much more I can give you.”
“Could he have gotten out alone?”
“No.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Many have tried. None have succeeded. Anytime someone gets out of this place, it’s with the help of an insider. Either a guard or another inmate or someone. He had help, I guarantee it.”
“Did he speak with any other prisoners?”
“Crazy Carl, but you already talked to him. Bet he didn’t say much.”
“What about the guards?”
“Wilkes didn’t really bother people. On his first day in here, he sent someone to the medical ward. I think he was proving a point.” Elliot paused to shudder. “The dude barely survived. Since then, nobody messed with Wilkes, and he didn’t mess with anyone else.”
“Can we get the names of any guards you saw him interact with more than once?”
Elliot shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not that much of a snitch.”
“You haven’t given us a thing except that he might’ve received letters, possibly from a female. Which we already knew.”
“There’s a guard we call Dingus. Don’t know why. He and Wilkes talked once in a while. There’s another—Hank. He’s mean, but for some reason, he didn’t pick on Wilkes as much as everyone else. Not sure why, since it’s not like they were friends.”
“Sometimes it’s what a person doesn’t do that says more,” I said. “Anyone else?”
“The opposite. Bellows—you know, fits the name. Actually, I’m not sure if it’s a real name or not, but the dude is loud. He had a vendetta against Wilkes for some reason. Never outright pestered the dude, but you could just tell. Anytime Bellows could get away with something against Wilkes, he did.”
Russo had been scribbling down the names while I continued the conversation with Elliot. When he finished, I stood and thanked Elliot for his time.
“What about the signature?”
“We’ll follow up on these guards,” I said. “If something turns up, we’ll be in touch.”
“What about that phone call to my lawyer?”
“We’ll take care of it,” Russo said. “You have my word.”
Russo and I let ourselves out of the interview room as guards led Elliot in the opposite direction.
“So?” Russo asked as we came to a pause near a set of double doors. “Fancy a chat with a couple of guards?”
I shook my head. “I think it might be best if we wait on them.”
“By wait, you mean...” Russo watched me carefully. “Keep a low profile and sic Asha on them.”
“Exactly.”
“We might have a limited time,” Russo pointed out. “If Elliot talks to his lawyer and shares the names he gave us, it could get out. Any of the guards—if they are guilty—could take off before we get back down here.”
“Interviewing them now will only give them a head start.”
I pushed through the double doors and saw Gem on the other side of the metal detectors. He paced back and forth, his posture radiating an agitated energy. The second he saw us, he threw a hand up in the air.
“I’ve been calling you for half an hour,” he said. “Didn’t you check your phone?”
“We were with an interviewee,” I said, exiting and coming to stand by Gem’s side. “What’s up?”
“Your friend Asha called me.” Gem glanced at Russo but quickly fixed his eyes on me. “People have been trying to reach you. She knew we were together—somehow.”
“She knows everything. What did she want?”
“I don’t think she trusts me,” Gem said blandly. “You might want to call her back.”
I ducked outside into a corner free from the others’ ears.
Asha answered before the first ring had finished—not a great sign.
“He’s home,” she said.
“Home?”
“Kate, there’s another body,” Asha said. “Back here in the Twin Cities.”
“—don’t tell me—”
“The teeth have all been pulled out,” she confirmed. “The Dentist is back.”
Chapter 9
The three of us boarded the plane back to Minnesota in a somber procession. Russo hadn’t even reacted when Gem handed him the keys to the car to drive to the airfield. This time, there were no light-hearted wrong turns.
Once we were in the air, Russo excused himself to a private room near the back of the aircraft to make some phone calls. I idly wondered if he was working his magic pulling strings on Elliot’s case, just in case the info on the guards led us somewhere.
I was in the middle of sending off an email to Asha when I felt a large presence beside me. A few more clicks of the keys, and I zipped the note off to the computer whiz and looked up to find Gem sitting next to me.
“Any luck in there?”
I sucked in a breath and gestured toward my phone. “We’ll see. I’m not holding out hope. Even if we do get something, it likely won’t be enough. We’re three steps behind him.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I looked into Gem’s eyes and saw true concern there. “You are helping. This plane ride, the transportation—you really made Russo’s day back there.”
“How do you do it?” he asked gently.
“Do what?”
Gem raised a hand toward my face but, on second thought, pulled it back. “You can smile, even in the midst of awful things.”
“What do you—”
“I’m assuming they found another body?” Gem studied me curiously. “Don’t worry, I’m not snooping. Your expression says it all.”
“Then my poker face isn’t as good as I thought.”
“I want to help however I can.”
“You did. You have already. I’m not sure why you let us use your plane and took the day off to come with us—there must have been one million meetings you had to cancel.”
“Only thirteen.”
“Ah.”
“I wouldn’t have done it for just anyone,” Gem admitted with an attempt at a smile. “I figured it was dire if you came to me. You don’t like me enough to ask favors if they aren’t of the utmost importance.”
“Look at you, catching onto this smiling business in the midst of tragedy.” I flicked my own echo of a smile toward him, but it fell flat. “I don’t have an answer for you except that we have to survive, too. We have to cope.”
“Why do you do it if your days are like this?”
“Because not all of us were born with a silver spoon.” As soon as the words crossed my lips, I regretted them. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
Gem eased back in his seat, a hollow smile on his face that stung more than a retort would have. “Don’t worry, you’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“Doesn’t mean I should have said it. Sorry.” I shifted uncomfortably. “And I need to apologize for before, too. What I said about your money—none of that was warranted, and I didn’t mean it how it came out.”
“Accepted.”
“That’s it? You’re not upset?”
“People judge me for having money all the time,” he said. “Not my problem; it’s theirs.”
“That’s very mature of you.”
He grinned, but something behind the sheen of his playful eyes told me there was more to the story. Like me, he had secrets, and he didn’t want to share.
Curiously, I found myself wanting to squeeze his hand as if to tell him I knew, I understood. But before I could make any sort of move, Russo reappeared in the cabin. His eyes quickly scanned us both before he averted his gaze to his phone.
“Be right back,” he muttered.
When Russo disappeared, Gem tilted his head to stare at me. “Do you want to go clear things up?”
I frowned. “Clear what up?”
“I assume the reason you’re not interested in me is because you’re interested in someone else.”
“I hope you realize how cocky that sounds.”
Gem laughed, a genuine sound. “Am I wrong?”
“Shut up. For the record, there’s nothing to clear.” I pulled my phone up and flicked to my inbox. “I have a big case. I’d appreciate some peace and quiet.”
Gem stood. “For what it’s worth, I’d still love to invite you to my Valentine’s Day gala. You can bring a plus one.”
“Declined. I’m not a party person.” Grudgingly, I added, “But thank you for the invite.”
“Anytime. The invitation stands, in case you change your mind.”
After ten minutes in which Gem gave me the peace and quiet I’d requested, a thought bubbled into my mind that I’d been tucking away and storing for later.
“Hey, Gem.”
“Detective?”
“The other day at the coffee shop, you said you’d come in to find me for a reason,” I said. “Not just to stalk me.”
“I think stalking is a strong word.”
“I sort of blew you off. Is there something I can help you with?”
Gem waved a hand. “It’s nothing.”
“Come on. It’s the least I can do after all of this.” I gestured around to the airplane. “You spent your day with us. God knows how much your hourly rate is.”
“For you, Rosetti, it’s free.”
“While I’m touched, I hate owing people favors. I’d feel better if you let me repay you somehow.”
Gem set down the tablet on which he’d been reading. “You don’t owe me, detective.”
“My offer expires in five minutes. I mean it.”
A glimmer reappeared in his eyes. “If you insist. It was something small, and I just thought—”
Russo cleared his throat, leaning against a cabinet. “Mind if I join?”
I nodded, then turned my attention back to Gem. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing,” Gem said firmly. His eyes landed on mine. “It was nothing.”
“You two need me to step back inside?” Russo gestured over his shoulder. “I just heard we’ll be landing in twenty minutes. Thought I might need to buckle into my seat.”
“I was just inviting Detective Rosetti and a plus one to my Valentine’s Day party,” Gem said smoothly. “If you’ll be in town, Agent Russo, please feel free to attend as well. Either as a plus one, or as a separate invitee.”
“You’re big on the parties, aren’t you?” Russo mumbled. He glanced at me, caught sight of my glare. “I mean, thanks. I’m not sure I’ll be around then, but I appreciate the invite.”
The awkwardness hung in the air until we landed. When the doors opened, the tension washed out with a gust of the cool evening breeze
.
“I’d ask if anyone wants dinner,” Gem said faintly. “But I’m sure there are other, more pressing matters.”
“Thanks for your help today,” Russo said. “Rosetti, you coming with me? I’ll drive to the scene.”
“One second.” I let Russo get into his car before turning to Gem. “I really appreciate it. I hope you know I wouldn’t have asked you for help if I hadn’t thought it was absolutely crucial.”
“I know. And I’m happy to do my part.”
“What you were going to tell me on the plane...” I hesitated, glanced over my shoulder. “I really do want to help you. Maybe we can get coffee sometime soon?”
“Sure.” Gem crossed his arms. “Whenever you have time.”
The way he said it, we both knew that I would never have time unless I made it happen. The ball was officially in my court.
“I’ll call you,” I said. “I promise.”
Gem walked me over to the car, opened the door and heaved in the floral bag I hadn’t had to use on our day trip.
Then he gave a wave to Russo. “I hope you’ll take me up on the offer of a garage tour before you leave town.”
Russo’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s an easy promise to make.”
“Good luck,” Gem said as he backed away. His eyes landed on me. “Not that you’ll need it. And be careful.”
“I MIGHT’VE BEEN WRONG.”
I looked up to Russo. “Excuse me?”
“About Gem.” Russo’s fingers tightened over the steering wheel as he drove us through the suburbs back toward the streets of St. Paul. “He seems like a good guy.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“He likes you. A lot.”
“Man, you go from cold to hot real fast,” I remarked stiffly. “First, he’s after me only because I’m a tough nut to crack. Suddenly, you think he’s Romeo?”
Russo cracked a smile. “I didn’t say I liked it. But I’m honest.”
“No, you’re a man.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a man, and Gem gave you the keys to a fancy car,” I pointed out. “You’re practically mated for life now.”
The laugh that escaped from Russo was the first time I’d heard a deep, belly laugh from him. “It was a nice car.”