by W. L. Dyson
“You wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you?” Nick said.
She shook her head. “No, I told you. I'm trying to find her too.”
Nick's phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and saw that the call was from Jenna. “Hey.”
“I just got a call from Linc.”
“Hold on.” Nick nodded to Conner. “Give her our card.” He looked over at the woman. “If you see her, please call us.”
Then he turned his attention back to Jenna as he walked out of the apartment. “What's up?”
“You need to get down to the station. Krystal's been picked up for shoplifting.”
5
Tuesday, 2:45 p.m.
Downtown Baltimore
She was going to die after all. Her sister, Barbara, or the woman they knew as Zeena, was running from the law and would end up captured and put in jail. There was no way she could get Barbara's help if she were behind bars.
Annie sat down on the sofa. She stared at the bounty hunter's business card. Prodigal Fugitive Recovery Agency. They can run, but they can't hide.
Now they were out chasing her sister down like—
As she tapped the card against her palm, thoughts formed. Okay, when they found Barbara, they would take her straight to jail. She just couldn't let that happen. The bottom line was simple—she had to find Barbara first.
But between her and the bottom line was a long list of obstacles. She'd love to be able to use those bounty hunters to her advantage. Especially that alpha male, Nick. Attractive, strong.
But how could she get him to help her?
She returned to the sofa, tossing the business card to the coffee table. Then she reached for a tissue and wiped her nose.
There had to be a way. She just had to figure out a plan.
Tuesday, 3:20 p.m.
Baltimore County Lockup
Her dark brown hair looked as if it had been in a windstorm, and her big brown eyes were red from crying. Nick's heart immediately went out to her, but he steeled himself not to show any emotion at all. Ignoring her, he reached out to his old partner, Linc, and shook his hand. “I appreciate the favor.”
The officer returned the handshake. “First offense. Not that big a favor. But I won't forget when the time comes I need something from you.”
Nick laughed. “I figured that.” Then he turned to his daughter. “Let's go.”
“Why? So you can yell at me?”
The sarcasm cut right across his last nerve and vibrated right to his temples. She had done nothing but fling sarcasm and bitterness at him since he walked through the door. No gratitude for Linc dismissing the charges. No appreciation for his efforts. “I don't want to hear one more word out of you, young lady.”
She lifted her head and headed for the door. “I'm surprised you even bothered coming down here. You usually like to hand your problems off for someone else.”
“Krystal, not another word. You've pushed me far enough today.”
He unlocked the SUV and opened the door for her. She glared at him as she climbed in and reached for her seat belt. “Since we're so close to home, why don't you just drop me off there?”
“Because I can't trust that you'll stay put. Just relax. We're about to spend some real quality time together.”
Folding her arms across her chest, Krystal slammed back against the seat with a pout.
Whipping the steering wheel, he pulled up to the curb and put the SUV in park. Then he shifted in his seat to look at his daughter. “What exactly is your problem with me? You've been like this ever since —”He stopped, emitted a heavy sigh, and ran one hand down his face.
“Can't say it, can you?” She lifted her chin as tears began to spill. “Lisa's funeral.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Since Lisa's funeral.”
“Well. Are you surprised? You let her die. All because catching some criminal was more important than Lisa was. It's always been more important than me or Mom or anything. Even Lisa.”
“No, honey, you're wrong. I did everything I could to save her.”
“Oh yeah? Well, if it was so important to you, why didn't you even care enough to show up on time for her funeral? You didn't even get there until it was nearly over. Why? Because you were out chasing another criminal.”
It hit him out of the blue, and he stared at her for a long moment, trying to weigh the idea, determine the validity of such a thought. On the surface, it was ridiculous. Then again, he was dealing with a teenager. “Krystal? Is all this rebellion, shoplifting, lying — is all this because you figure acting like some criminal will get my attention?”
She looked out the window and then slowly turned to look at him again, and when she did, he saw the little self-satisfied smirk on her lips. “Well, let's see. My dance recital? You didn't show up. My soccer finals? You didn't show up. The school play I was in? You didn't show. I get arrested for shoplifting and bam. You're there so fast they didn't have time to fingerprint me. So you tell me, Dad.”
Tuesday, 3:50 p.m.
White Marsh, North Baltimore
Jessica Shepherd wasn't sure whether she wanted to scream or just cry. “Look. You promised delivery of those leather sofas for January first. Then it was mid-January. Then February. We are now at the end of March, and my client is understandably fed up and so am I. Now, if you ever want my firm to place an order with you again in the future, you will have those sofas delivered, as ordered, to the Chambers home by Friday.”
As the man started to sputter, she repeated, “Friday. By five. Or the next call you receive will be from our attorneys.” She slammed the phone down.
“You tell 'em.”
Jessica nearly jumped out of her chair. She looked over at the doorway to see her boss, Grace Harmon, leaning against the door frame, arms folded. “Was I too loud?”
Grace pushed off the door frame and walked over, easing down into the visitor's chair across from Jessica's desk. Grace Harmon was a legend from the sitting rooms of DC to the parlors of Philadelphia.
“I think the Nelsons heard you from their home in Annapolis.” Then Grace waved a hand. “No big deal. That's not what I came in here for. Heaven knows I've had my fair share of screaming matches with suppliers. Allie left a note on my desk that you wanted to talk to me about the Winston House restoration.”
The Winston House was one of the oldest mansions in Frederick County. Built in the mid-1800s by Byron Winston, it had reigned as the finest hotel in Northern Maryland. It once attracted only the wealthiest visitors traveling from Washington to Gettysburg, but around the 1950s, it began a downward spiral and had been empty ever since.
But the town council had recently decided its history was worth preserving. So they hired Grace Designs to handle the restoration. It was, without a doubt, the largest and most lucrative project in terms of money and publicity that Grace Designs had ever handled. The pressure was on, and everyone was feeling it.
“The Winston House restoration.” Jessica mused as she reached over and rifled through a stack of files, pulling one out. She flipped it open. “The centerpiece of the lobby back in the late 1800s was a red velvet circular sofa placed directly under a magnificent chandelier. I sent pictures of the original chandelier out to every supplier I could think of, and one of them hit pay dirt.”
Jessica pulled an eight-by-ten color photograph out of the file folder and handed it over to Grace. “Check this out.”
Grace lifted her glasses and perched them on the end of her nose and then looked at the photograph. “It's perfect. It looks exactly like the original.”
“Better. It is the original.”
Grace dropped her glasses. “You're kidding me.”
“Serious.”
“Wow,” Grace said as she leaned back and crossed her legs. “Good find, Jessica.”
“Thanks.” Jessica took the compliment and bathed in it for a moment. It wasn't often Grace gave anyone a pat on the back, much less a word of praise. Still, it was far more often than Ni
ck ever complimented her. Or showed any appreciation for the little things she did for him. And praise? The man didn't know the meaning of the word.
Just as Grace disappeared through the door, Jessica's assistant, Allie, slipped in. She waved a stack of pink slips and then set them down in front of Jessica. “Messages. One of them is urgent. I put it on top.”
Jessica thanked her and picked up the first message. Then she groaned. Krystal had been arrested.
Tuesday, 3:55 p.m.
Park Heights, Baltimore
The wind had picked up, whipping through the streets of Baltimore as if on a mission to send everyone inside. Zeena looked around the block, hoping to find a place where she could sit and be sheltered from the wind. Ahead, she saw a couple of old men sitting on the stoop of a row house passing a paper bag between them. At least they had something to help ward off the chill. Zeena shifted her backpack and huddled down in her thin jacket as she darted across the street.
“Zeena?”
Stifling a scream, Zeena whirled around. It was two of Jon's goons and two of the last people she wanted to see. “I'm not working right now.”
One of the men grabbed Zeena by the arm. “Mr. Carver wants to talk to you.”
“About what? I don't owe him anything.” She forced herself not to fall to her feet and beg for her life. She knew this was about that laptop that Danny Sloop stole from Jon Carver. If she didn't get away, she'd be dead.
“Danny said he gave you something that belonged to Mr. Carver.” He squeezed her arm a little tighter. She winced and tried to pull away.
“Danny is lying to you, Lester.”
“Mr. Carver doesn't think so. And he would very much like to get his property back.”
“Then get it from Danny,” she snapped. She knew Danny was probably dead, but it didn't serve any purpose for her to acknowledge that. Even now, she could see the doubt growing in the man's eyes. “Look. I haven't seen Danny in weeks, and Carver knows I'd never betray him. If Danny had given me something that belongs to him, I would have brought it to him.”
The grip on her arm eased up. She decided to press her luck. “Look, call Jon. Get him on the phone. He knows me better than this.”
The two men glanced at each other. The lock on her arm eased completely. She took a deep breath and yanked her arm free. Then she spun on her heels and ran, darting around a car, then around a Dumpster.
A bullet hit the concrete wall next to her, and a piece flew off and hit her across the cheek. She didn't bother to check it. A nick was better than dead. Hey, even a deep gouge would be better than dead.
Another bullet hit near her, and she sped up, whipping around the building and darting into a secondhand clothing store. They wouldn't dare come running in here with guns blazing. Too many customers. Too many witnesses.
“My ex-boyfriend,” she screamed. “He's trying to kill me! Tell him I went out the back!” She dove under a rack of clothes and curled up, wrapping her arms around her calves, trying to be as small as possible.
She heard the front doors open and a flurry of feet. Then she heard a woman speak up. “If you're looking for that dirty redhead, she went out the back.”
Zeena felt like crying with relief as the heavy boots thudded past her and then the sound faded. She eased out, looking carefully around to make sure they were gone.
“You can come out now,” a woman with a baby in her arms said. “Hurry out the front.”
Zeena scrambled to her feet, secured her backpack, and rushed out the front door, sprinting across the street and into a nearby alley. Only after she was a good block away did she realize that she hadn't even thanked those women for helping her. Oh, well.
Then she heard a gunshot and saw that it hit less than a foot away from her. They'd found her. She willed her feet to run faster. Looking over her shoulder as she turned a corner, she only saw the one man following her. Where was Lester?
She slammed into something. And then hands gripped her tight. “Hello, Zeena. Going somewhere?”
6
Tuesday, 4:20 p.m.
Prodigal offices, Baltimore
Nick drove back to the Prodigal offices in a silence broken only by his futile attempts to get Krystal to talk to him.
Once at the office, Nick dropped his vest inside the door and walked over to Jenna's desk to pick up his messages. One said that his gas credit cards would be temporarily suspended if he didn't send a payment within forty-eight hours. Nick dropped both hands to the edge of Jenna's desk and leaned in, bowing his head. “Could this day get any worse?”
“It could,” Jenna replied. “Let's pray that it doesn't. Where's Krystal?”
“Taking her sweet time, of course.”
Sure enough, the front door opened, and Krystal came dragging through the door, carrying the rest of Nick's gear and looking none too happy about being a pack mule.
Jenna smiled. “Hi, Krystal.”
“Hi, Jenna.” Then the girl disappeared through Nick's office door.
Jenna tucked her pencil behind her ear. “Nick, you know, Harvey owes us nearly three thousand dollars for skips.”
“Yeah. He's always slow to pay. Stay on him. Remind him that we've consistently taken good care of him.”
The front door flew open, sending a blast of cold, damp March weather through the reception area. Jessica swept in, clutching her red wool coat at her throat. He resented the punch to his heart when he saw her. How stupid was it to be in love with a woman who hated him? The woman was an iceberg, but she still had his heart in the palm of her slender little hands. He just wasn't stupid enough to let her know it.
He took a deep breath and braced himself for the next battle of the day. “I thought you were at work.”
“I was. Then I get a message from my assistant that my daughter has been arrested. I called the police department only to learn that her father had already picked her up. Not that you would think to call me and let me know.”
“Let me get this straight, Jess. First you scream for me to handle her. Then when I do, you gripe because I did. Why don't you make up your mind?”
She pointed a manicured finger at him. Red, probably to match her coat. And probably the suit beneath it. “Did it ever cross your mind that I might be concerned about her safety?”
“Linc said they couldn't reach you. They called me, and I picked her up. I haven't had a chance to call you. I've been a little busy.”
The phone rang, but before Nick could use it as an excuse to get away from Jessica, the ringing stopped. Jenna must have picked it up from somewhere else in the building. The traitor.
“Where is Krystal now?”
“In my office.”
Jessica looked beyond him toward his office door. “Krystal Marie Shepherd! Out here. Now.”
Krystal appeared in the doorway with a belligerent look plastered on her face. “Don't bother giving me a hard time. Dad has already ripped me apart more than once.”
“Good for him. Now it's my turn. Out in the car. Now.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Krystal shuffled out of the office without a word to either of her parents.
Jessica looked from her retreating daughter to Nick. “If you don't step in and do something with her, Nick, she's going to end up in jail for life.”
“Last time I checked, I'm the one that had to go face my friend on the force to get this dropped. I dealt with it.”
“I meant that you need to deal with her. All her life, she was your little princess. Every time she acted up, you made excuses for her, and now look what you've created.” Jessica turned on her heel and stormed out of the building.
Jenna quietly reappeared and handed him a slip of paper. “Harvey called to ask if we found the Bantham woman. I explained about the mix-up, but he swears the woman denied having any relatives when he bonded her out.”
Nick just nodded, stalked into his office, threw his keys on his desk, and sank down on the sofa. He didn't know whether to scream or just wave a white flag.<
br />
After several long moments of silence, he grabbed his keys and strode out through the lobby. “I'll be at the dojang if anyone needs me.”
Tuesday, 4:45 p.m.
En route to White Marsh, Maryland
Krystal ignored her mother on the drive home. It wasn't all that hard. It wasn't like her mom was doing much talking either. At least not until they got home. Then she apparently decided that Krystal was grounded.
“Two weeks? You're grounding me for two weeks?” Krystal slammed her backpack down on the kitchen table. “You can't!”
“I beg to differ with you, young lady. I warned you that if you got into trouble one more time, I was going to ground you.” Jessica slipped her coat off and draped it over her arm. “I think this latest little stunt of yours justifies my case.”
Krystal wanted to scream. This was all so unfair! “You just hate me, that's all. I remind you of the biggest mistake of your life!”
“And what mistake was that, exactly?” Jessica opened the coat closet and pulled out a hanger.
Krystal stood in the archway and screamed down the hall as her mother hung up her coat. “Marrying Daddy! You hate him, and you hate me because I remind you of him.”
“That is ridiculous.” She closed the closet door and returned to the kitchen. Krystal stepped out of the way to let her pass. “I don't hate your father. He and I have some issues, but that doesn't change my love for you.” Her mother hesitated. “Or his.”
“Whatever. I know you hate him.” She picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “I heard you tell Grandmother that I reminded you of him; stubborn, selfish, and incapable of considering others.”
Her mother blushed and started making a pot of coffee. “I'm sorry you heard that. I really am. I shouldn't have said it. But I do love you. And I do not want to stand by and watch you ruin your life. I refuse to let you turn to shoplifting or drugs or drinking or anything else just to lash out at me or your father.”