Material Witness

by L. A. Mondello

  * * *

  Cassie stared at Jake's face, trying hard not to read into the multitude of expressions stretching and changing his features. She was being ridiculous. She knew that. As much as she tried to convince herself what Jake said was true, she couldn't keep the hairs on the back of her neck from dancing on end.

  Maybe Jake was right. Maybe she had been writing about crime too long and it had tainted her, making her unable to deal with reality. She wasn’t living the story in one of her books.

  But then most people didn’t live with the reality of getting showered with bullets as they had last night at Rory's. That was not something out of one of her books. That had been real.

  She rolled her head on her shoulders, easing out some of the tension plaguing her. Last night and the long drive had taken its toll. She needed a hot bath and some distance from this incredible pull she felt toward Jake, so she could regroup.

  “Okay. Where?” she conceded.

  “The center room here,” he said, reaching dangerously close to her in order to open the door behind her. “It has a private bath with no windows. You’ll feel safe there.”

  Stepping inside, he reached for the light switch. Cassie was completely unprepared for such a beautifully decorated room. Sure, the rest of the house was gorgeous, but this room looked as if it had been decorated just for her. A queen-sized bed rested against the interior wall. The mound of floral throw pillows piled high against the wooden headboard looked like a huge welcome bouquet. The soft violet of the carpet brought out the delicate stripes in the wallpaper. In the corner by the bathroom door sat an empty secretary’s desk, just waiting for her and her laptop to set up home.

  Cassie had always dreamed of writing in a secluded place, free from noisy traffic jams and telemarketing calls. But never once in her wildest fantasies had she dreamed it would be like this. She had all the peace and quiet she needed now.

  She drew in a short breath, amending her thought. How could she have any peace when Angel Fagnelio was still out there? Until that was resolved, she didn’t know if she’d ever find peace.

  “I'll take the room right across the hall. Just knock if you need anything.”

  When she turned to the sound of Jake's voice, she saw that he was by the doorway, stepping back into the hallway.

  “Are you going to bed now, too?”

  He stopped and looked back at her over his broad shoulder. “Just as soon as I check in with Bellows and tell him we're all locked up for the evening.”

  “I'll just get my bag then.”

  She eased past him, filling her head with the scent of his lingering aftershave and the faint smell of the coffee they'd drunk on the drive up. He was still rooted in the same spot when she returned with her suitcase and her laptop.

  “I guess this is where we say goodnight,” she said, finding it hard to meet his gaze. She knew if she did, she'd see the same heat she'd seen last night when she'd gotten out of his car all dressed in that wild outfit Maureen convinced her to wear to Rory's. It would be her undoing because then he'd see the erotic fantasies that had been swirling around her head during the drive.

  If she closed herself in her room and locked the door, she'd feel safe from Angel Fagnelio and his ugliness. She'd also be safe from the emotional whirlwind she was caught in every time Jake flashed his drop-dead-sexy smile.

  “Goodnight,” he whispered.

  For a minute, one nanosecond, she thought he was actually going to bend his head and kiss her. His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered there. As powerful as her fear had been all day, the desire to have Jake dip his head and cover her lips with his was wildly intoxicating. She wanted to feel the power of being wrapped tightly in his arms again, feel the heat of his strong body crushing her without the fear of bullets and flying glass and death. She wanted his passion and strength. That would keep her safe.

  But Jake didn't kiss her. He stood ramrod still, his penetrating eyes echoing what she felt as his gaze washed over her.

  “Goodnight,” she said. “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “When you're finished with your phone calls, could you just come by my room and knock on my door before you go to bed?” She dipped her gazed and chuckled softly. “I know it sounds silly—”

  “No. It doesn't. I'll be done in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Jake,” she said softly.

  Cassie closed the door to the bedroom and was alone for the first time that day. Something deep inside, call it gut instinct or woman's intuition, just didn't feel right. And no matter how tired, she wasn't going to sleep until she allayed her feelings.

  Turning from the closed door, she hugged her middle. Not from a sudden cold chill now that the heat of being near Jake was gone. What she felt was spine-tingling jolt nagging her insides.

  But she was being ridiculous. Wasn't she?

  Bogey Monster.

  Jake had teased her to try to ease her irrational fear, but they were still there, nagging at her. Cassie’s sensible mind knew there was no such thing as the Bogey Monster. There was only Angel Fagnelio and whoever it was that leaked her name to the press, making her as wide open a target as a duck at a carnival shooting gallery.

  She'd silently watched him sleeping in the the car during the ride. She'd even allowed herself to brush her fingers across his forehead to push a thick lock of hair out of his eyes, giving in to the wild temptation she'd felt all day.

  Jake wasn't a man she'd run away with on a romantic weekend. He wasn't going to be her lover for the weekend or even for one night. He had a job to do. To protect her, keep her alive. That was the only reason either one of them was there.

  Cassie dropped her laptop case on the desktop with a big clunk, not caring she could have ruined it. The suitcase was heavier. She used two hands to lift it to the bed, then zip it open. She grabbed her nightgown and turned toward the bathroom door. But her eyes settled on the big oak closet door instead. There was a hook for her bathrobe and suddenly her mind raced to her suitcase and the fact that in her haste to pack she'd forgotten her bathrobe completely. What else had she forgotten? How much of her life had she left behind?

  She walked over to the enormous bed and plopped down at the foot of it, staring at the closet door. Bringing her hand to her cheek, she chuckled.

  Bogey Monster.

  “In Hidden Evil,” she muttered to herself, thinking about her third book. “There were no bad guys in the closet waiting to shoot CJ.”

  She paused breathlessly. But there was a man with a gun under her bed.

  Like radar, her gaze swept over the big beautiful bed with pillows piled ridiculously high in the center. No, this big beautiful bed can't hurt me.

  Jake's muted voice filtered in through the closed bedroom door. He was still talking to someone on the phone.

  “You're being ludicrous, Cassie,” she muttered to herself, clutching her face with both hands now and laughing. “This isn't Hidden Evil. This is life. Reality. This isn't a make pretend book you've dreamed up. And you're not CJ Carmen.”

  Still, Cassie’s mind kept racing to dark thoughts and before she knew it she was dropping to her knees at the foot of the bed.

  “Okay, if there's anyone under here, be prepared for battle,” she said, chuckling almost hysterically. “And if there isn’t, then I guess I better prepare myself for some serious psychoanalysis, because I’m losing my mind.”

  Of course, there wasn't going to be anyone hiding under her bed. The house had been checked. But she knew that the only way she’d be able to put her head down on one of these gloriously pretty pillows and sleep tonight was if she checked for herself.

  Her hand trembled as she reached for the white dust ruffle. Pulling the eyelet fabric up, she had to squint her eyes to focus. The small desk lamp was on, but it was dimly lit in the corner of the room, making it hard to see under the bed. Blinking, she fought to focus her eyes. Then again. They burned as she focused them so she rubbed them with two fin
gers.

  Cassie didn't really believe in the Bogey Monster. Her sensibility told her she certainly wouldn't find one under her bed. Nor would she find a masked man wielding a gun or a knife or any other weapon. Her creative mind was just working overtime, as it always did, and this time it was getting the better of her. She was just being silly.

  Still, Cassie had to look for herself.

  Through the dark shadows, something came into view.

  You're being ridiculous.

  But Cassie knew she really wasn't. She rubbed her eyes again. Even as her mind registered relief that there was no masked intruder hiding under her bed, waiting to kill her, what she did register most definitely would.

  #

  Chapter Seven

  Jake scrubbed his hand across his rough face with one hand. He hadn't bothered to shave that morning and now, with an extra day’s beard growth, his jaw itched like hell. But he'd be damned if he was going to take the time to rid himself of his whiskers before he climbed into bed. He'd just finished calling the guard’s station and decided to check in with his partner before turning in.

  “She insisted I look in the closet, Kev,” Jake said, shaking his head as he eased himself deep into the wing chair by the telephone. “She’s nuts. But do you know what’s more nuts?”

  Kevin laughed. “You did it, right?”

  “Yeah. I'm surprised she didn't insist I look under her bed.”

  “Man, you got it bad,” his partner said, a hint of knowing in his voice.

  “It's not like that,” Jake lied. It was exactly like that, but he wasn't about to admit it to Kevin. “I got roped into this.”

  “You looked like hell when I saw you and that was this morning. You must look a whole lot worse now. Maybe you frightened the poor woman.”

  “Fuck you, asshole.”

  “Just keeping things real.”

  He leaned over to turn the fancy lamp sitting on the end table off, but before he did, something caught Jake's attention and he missed the next thing Kevin had asked.

  “What's that?”

  “You're mumbling again. Sure sign of dementia.”

  Jake normally would have laughed but he was distracted by what had caught his eye.

  Kevin continued. “You sure you're okay with all this?”

  “Ah, yeah.”

  It was hidden well in the seam of the lampshade. Jake pulled at the threads that had been stitched until the device fell into his palm. It was the size of a flat pea. He probably wouldn't have noticed it at all except that the lampshade was slightly askew, most probably tilted when Cassie bumped into him earlier. The naked light bulb made it glaringly obvious at this particular angle.

  Terrific. Charley had appeased Cassie by telling her she wouldn't be watched like an insect under a microscope. She'd kept her word. But only because the agents on duty fully intended to bug the house. Jake was sure all the rooms were filled with these tiny devices. He'd have to figure out a way to warn Cassie about it without making her feel self-conscious.

  “It's been a hell of a day, Kevin. Did you manage to get any info on those names?”

  “A bit more than I bargained for. Maureen Phillips, Cassie's editor, came up clean. Not even so much as a parking violation with the DMV. But the other name—”

  “Adam Coel?”

  “Yeah, him. Seems he's had a little bad luck streak at the local casino. In hock up to his eyeballs and in desperate need of some major cash.”

  Jake let out a quick sigh. “So he's a possibility.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it,” Kevin said, still sounding unconvinced. “Legitimate newspapers don't pay for big stories. And it doesn't seem likely someone requiring the kind of cash Coel needs would give it up for free. Seems more likely he'd have gone to the tabloids and sold his story to the highest bidder.”

  “Keep checking for me, will ya?”

  “Sure. But there's more.”

  When Kevin hesitated, Jake braced himself.

  “I dug up some information on Angel Fagnelio that I thought you might find a little interesting.”

  “Such as?”

  “Debra Cantelli was Angel's sister.”

  The floor felt like it fell out from beneath Jake. “That can't be.”

  “I didn't think so either, so I double checked.”

  So had he, Jake thought dismally. At the beginning of his investigation he’d done a full sweep of Angel Fagnelio’s file. But if this was true, it was obvious he hadn't done his homework right.

  “It's true, Jake. Both had different fathers, different last names. She lived with her father most of the time. Probably why we were never able to make a connection. Debra was older by ten years and only went to live with their mother after she was of age. She practically raised Angel when his mom hit the bottle too hard, which was pretty much all the time.”

  He wiped his hand over his face and tried to clear his mind, tried to make some sense out of the last few months and how it connected to his past.

  “Angel knew all along I was undercover,” Jake said grimly.

  “That would be my guess. Puts a new spin on who he was actually targeting last night at Rory’s.”

  And how close Jake had come to being sent away in a body bag. If it hadn't been for Cassie's quick action, he was sure that's the way it would have gone down.

  “All things considered, I’d say you could use a good night’s sleep, Jake,” Kevin said.

  “Yeah, right.”

  He didn’t want to rest, Jake thought. He wanted Angel Fagnelio.

  “Do you have him yet?”

  “Not yet, but you’ll be the first to know when we do. You’re gonna call in periodically? Let me know how you're doing? Gloat about the good food and fill me in on any change in the sleeping arrangements?”

  That hint of amusement was back in Kevin's voice. It grated on Jake's tired nerves more than fingernails against a chalkboard.

  “There's not going to be any change,” he shot back.

  “Same ol' Jake. I’ll bet you were an altar boy.”

  Jake ignored the disappointment in Kevin's voice. “Three years.”

  Kevin laughed. “Oh, man. I can’t believe you get a cushy gig out in the middle of the mountains while I get to work my ass off here. You know, Russo's been riding my case since this morning. He’s still at his desk.”

  “Doesn't that guy ever go home?”

  “No.” There was a small silence between them. They'd both been there when the call came in about the death of Paul Russo, Captain Russo’s only son. The old man had never been the same since and would probably work himself into the grave before he'd face an empty house.

  “Don't work yourself too hard. At least not on the job,” Kevin finally said, his rich laughter floating through the telephone line before the connection was cut.

  Jake stared at the tiny bug in his hand until the dial tone blared in his ear. Only then did he place the phone back in the cradle.

  A few long strides down the hall, and Jake was in front of Cassie's bedroom door. He lifted his hand to the doorknob, catching himself before walking in. She might be getting dressed. Curling his fingers into a ball, he rapped his knuckles lightly against the door three times instead.

  No answer.

  He knocked again.

  Silence.

  Staring at the white paneled door, he hesitated before turning the knob. He'd only left Cassie a moment ago. She couldn't possibly be asleep yet. But then again, as tired as she was…

  The lamp on the dresser was still glowing when he crept into her room. A quick glance to the bathroom showed the door was open and the light was off.

  “Cassie?”

  She sprang upright from the floor at the foot of the bed. Sheer black fright clouded her delicate features, and it took but a second to figure out what she was doing.

  “Geez, it wasn't good enough to check the closets?”

  She shook her head vehemently, waving her hands back and forth. It took no more than two seco
nds to realize her fright wasn’t about her overactive imagination.

  “What’s that I smell?” he asked.

  Slowly she shook her head as if she were paralyzed and fighting to move. Her breathing was shallow and quick.

  “I think it’s gas,” she said quickly. “It’s coming from the heating unit under the bed. I thought maybe I was imagining it and hyperventilating, but if you smell it too then—”

  He took another whiff and then dropped to the floor, checking under the bed to inspect it himself. As soon as his face got close to the bed ruffle, the smell was stronger.

  “What the… We need to move quickly.”

  “What?”

  “Get out of the house!”

  In two quick movements, he was pulling Cassie up from the floor and dragged her across the room to the door. Cassie stumbled once as he dragged her around the bed, knocking into the dresser. The lamp pitched and Jake quickly grabbed it before it fell to the floor.

  “Wait. I need my laptop,” Cassie cried.

  “We’ll get it later.”

  Jake dragged Cassie through the house. The air was definitely cleaner in the living room, but it was filling up quickly.

  When Jake reached the living room door, he turned the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Cassie gasped. “It’s locked?”

  Jake didn’t need to confirm it. There was no time. He raced to the kitchen door and found that it wouldn’t budge either.

  “We’re locked in?” Cassie said on a sob.

  “Breaking the bolt on the door might cause a spark.”

  There was no time to speak, or breathe. He had to think and then act. They had to move faster.

  Ten seconds went by.

  Think, think, think. Surveillance cameras were littered along the driveway and the front of the house. There was no telling how many other cameras were positioned at the other corners of the safe house. It wouldn't take whoever did this long to figure out he and Cassie had escaped.

  If they escaped.

  “Jake the smell is getting stronger!”

  “Pull up your shirt and cover your face.” She did as she was told. “That’s right. Don’t breath too heavy or you’ll take in too much.