No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery)

by Julie Moffett

  “Crap,” I said because I knew he was right.

  “So we do it my way,” he said, brushing the dirt off his jeans and quickly retrieving his guns. “My car is around back. Get in. Now.”

  I wanted to argue but could hear the faint wail of sirens. “Okay,” I said, making an executive decision and grabbing my purse and bag.

  We left Beefy where he lay and the Jag peeled out of the gas station. Finn drove a little way and quickly pulled off onto a dirt lane. He drove into the shadows of the trees and then cut the lights. We sat there in the dark until the emergency vehicles passed us by.

  “We’re out of here,” Finn said, smoothly thrusting the car into gear and pulling back out. “Where to?”

  “North,” I said simply.

  “A little more information would be helpful.”

  I exhaled a deep breath. I couldn’t see how I had much choice. In my opinion, the plan was still salvageable; it just required a tiny bit of improvisation. Maybe Elvis would overlook the small deviation given the fact that I had just survived a near-death experience.

  “Buffalo, New York.”

  If Finn was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead he drove without speaking until we reached the interstate. Then he asked, “How’s the wrist?”

  “Other than the excruciating pain, it’s fine. At least I’m alive.”

  “We’re going to have to stop and get some painkillers or you’re not going to make it far.”

  I agreed with him but didn’t say so aloud. I didn’t want to appear weak and needy, even if that was exactly how I felt.

  “Are you going to tell me how you found me?” I asked.

  “Sheer dumb luck, actually. I was following Harry. I tried to warn you by cell but for some unfathomable reason, you had turned it off.”

  “It’s being tapped by the FBI and I didn’t want them to know my every move.”

  “The FBI? Are you joking?”

  “I wish. How did you know Beefy’s name?”

  Finn ran his fingers through his hair. “He works for CGM. You were right. He’s a hired thug.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “A little sleuthing. Unfortunately he caught me red-handed, snooping around on my boss’s computer. He politely informed me we were on the same side and I needed to keep my nose out of matters that didn’t concern me, or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  “He’d kill me.”

  “He said that? Nice guy. His name is Harry?”

  “Harry Jorrell.”

  “Even the name sounds beefy.”

  “Well, he was once a P.I., but had his license pulled for so-called unorthodox practices.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Then I guess the real question is how did Beefy track me here?”

  “He’s a pretty good ex-detective, I guess.”

  “And you?”

  “Okay, so I was playing detective, too,” Finn admitted. “After our little chat in my boss’s office, I decided to check Harry out. I followed him to your place in Jessup. When he didn’t find you there, he drove around the town looking for your car. When he found it, he parked a short distance away and began his surveillance. Then I noticed someone else in a dark-colored sedan was watching you, as well.”

  “That would be the FBI.”

  “They’re tapping your phone and following you? What’s going on, Lexi?”

  “You tell your part first,” I insisted.

  He didn’t look pleased but continued. “Well, I was curious why Harry was staking you out, so I stayed with him. For several hours I watched him keep an eye on your car. So I was surprised when he suddenly perked up when a man, young woman and kid left the house and climbed into a beige Toyota.”

  I sighed. “That would be me disguised as my neighbor.”

  “I didn’t get it, but Jorrell was on to you from the start. He followed the Toyota to the mall, and so did I, despite the fact that I thought it strange he’d left you at the house uncovered. We watched you switch to the truck and that’s when I realized Harry had made you. I guess he just waited for the first opportunity to strike. That, apparently, came at the gas station.”

  “Well, I guess that makes Harry a lot smarter than he looks. Except he didn’t make you tailing him.”

  “Maybe he did,” Finn said thoughtfully. “Maybe he figured he could kill two birds with one stone. I mean that literally.”

  “Great. I suppose that means the only surveillance team I fooled was the FBI.”

  Finn looked over at me. “What the hell is the FBI doing involved in all of this?”

  I didn’t answer and instead slouched down in the seat, pressing my aching wrist against my stomach. The adrenaline from my near-death experience was wearing off, and the steady hum of the tires across the pavement was lulling me into sleep.

  “Come on, Lexi,” Finn said. “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Give me a good reason for going along with whatever insane plan you have for rescuing Judyta and Basia or I’m driving you straight away to a hospital.”

  “Why are you so sure I have a plan? And by the way, I’m offended by the use of the word insane.”

  “I reserve the right to use the word insane until I hear your plan. You need me and you know it. It’s not rocket science, Lexi.”

  I sighed. “Okay. I admit that maybe, just maybe, I could use your help.”

  “Then fill me in. What’s happening? What is this Project Acheron?”

  I decided to tell him like it was—straight up. “CGM is cloning humans.”

  Swearing, Finn swerved across two lanes and pulled over in the emergency lane, slamming on the brakes. My skull banged against the headrest and I yelped as my wrist bounced against my knee.

  “What did you say?” he demanded, looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and shock.

  If he was acting, I had to give him credit. He looked pretty shaken.

  “It’s just what I said. CGM is cloning humans and getting big bucks for it.”

  I gave him the brief version of all I knew up to now, including how the twins had helped me, but minus the contents of Basia’s note and omitting any mention of Slash. I don’t know why it seemed so important to protect a guy I didn’t even really know, but our kiss had changed things even if I wasn’t sure exactly how.

  Finn ran his hand through his hair. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” he said under his breath. “I can’t believe it. Human cloning. I had no idea it was even scientifically possible yet. But I don’t understand. Who is killing the young women?”

  “I don’t know. But the U.S. government, including the FBI, would like to know.”

  He pressed a hand to his forehead and I noticed his arm was trembling. “I guess it’s all starting to make sense in a repulsive sort of way. Harold must have known about the cloning. He probably drew up the secret contracts for CGM. That’s why they gave him the bonus—to pay him off. He apparently got nervous about it and left me the generic contract in the safety deposit box, just in case.”

  “But who killed Harold?” I asked. “Someone at CGM?”

  “I’m having a hard time believing that. But after our encounter with Jorrell back at the gas station, I can’t discount the possibility.”

  For a minute we sat in silence as the cars on the highway whizzed past us. Then, without another word, Finn maneuvered the Jag back on to the interstate. He got off at the next exit and drove into the parking lot of a small gas station EZ-Mart.

  “You go get some painkillers and something to eat, and I’ll see if I have anything in the trunk that can serve as a makeshift sling.”

  I nodded and entered the almost deserted EZ-Mart, where I bought necessities such as ibuprofen, Diet Coke, coffee, chips, chocolate, crackers and some breath mints. By the time I returned to the car, Finn had taken what looked like an old rag and fashioned it into a sling. It smelled a bit like wax and gasoline, but it would do. He helped me get my arm into it a
nd I breathed a sigh of relief when my wrist was cradled comfortably against my stomach.

  While Finn pumped gas into the Jag, I washed down several painkillers with some Diet Coke and topped it off by eating a few peanut butter crackers and a chocolate bar. For some reason, I felt immediately better. Probably it was the chocolate. Then I felt the bump in my jeans pocket and remembered I still had the Pamela Anderson key. I pulled it out of my pocket and stuck it in Finn’s glove compartment. I wondered what he’d think when he found it, and smiled.

  “Can I drive?” I asked, opening the door and sticking my head out. “I’ve never driven a Jag.”

  “Not a chance, lass,” Finn said, screwing the gas cap back on.

  “Jeez, you’re not one of those men who is all touchy-feely about his car, are you?”

  “Is there any other kind?” he said, but I saw him grin as he climbed in.

  We drove for a while in silence, sharing the junk food. Finn turned the radio to a soft jazz station and kept the volume low. “Aren’t you tired?” I asked Finn after an hour had passed. “We can take a break, you know.”

  “I’ll let you know when I need one.”

  “It’s about six more hours to Buffalo.”

  “What’s in Buffalo?”

  “I don’t have the foggiest idea,” I answered. “Do you have your passport?”

  He gave me a wry, sideways glance. “I take it that means Buffalo is not our final destination.”

  “Yep. So, do you have your passport?”

  “Actually, I do.”

  “Well, I guess that’s convenient.”

  “But you’re still not going to tell me exactly where we are going.”

  “No. Not yet.”

  He sighed. “At this point, there’s no point in keeping secrets, Lexi.”

  “Okay. You spill first.”

  He stared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me who you really are?”

  “You know who I am.”

  “Do I?”

  “Dammit, Lexi, what are you going on about?”

  I popped a cracker into my mouth and ate it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were some kind of frigging celebrity?”

  Finn fell quiet for a moment. “Oh, you found out, did you?”

  “Better late than never. That doesn’t mean I’m not embarrassed for being in the dark for so long.”

  “It’s not a big secret. It just didn’t come up in conversation.”

  “Well, it just came up now.”

  He lifted his hand from the steering wheel and rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s the big deal? So I didn’t volunteer information on my family background. Sue me.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “What point?” he said and I could hear the exasperation in his voice.

  “The point is you’re asking me to trust you, with my life and lives of others, and I don’t really know the first thing about you. What’s a guy like you doing at CGM in the first place? And what other important information about yourself have you conveniently forgotten to mention because it, uh, didn’t come up in conversation?”

  I could almost feel his Irish temper rise. “Okay, Lexi, you want me to spill, so I’ll spill. If you really must know the truth, I’m at CGM because I needed a break from Ireland, my father and my notoriety, in that order. I wanted to find a quiet place to get established on my own as a lawyer. I’m interested in many things—the law, business, computers and biotechnology—and CGM seemed like a good fit at the time. There, now that you know I’m a frigging celebrity does it change your opinion of me?”

  “In some ways it does. It adds a new dimension to you. You’re a lot more high profile than I expected. But what bugs me the most is that I feel blindsided.”

  “Blindsided?”

  “You could have told me.”

  “Christ, Lexi, you expect every guy to spill his guts to you after just a few meetings?”

  “Hey, we went to dinner at least twice. That’s significant, I think.”

  He swore under his breath. “And women wonder why men think they are bleeding nuts. Okay, I’m officially sorry I didn’t spill my guts sooner. There, I have been the bigger man and apologized. Does that make things better?”

  “A little,” I said, slightly mollified. “The bleeding nuts comment wasn’t particularly helpful, though.”

  He shook his head and then laughed. “No one would believe what has happened to me since I met you. Trouble follows you around like a little black cloud.”

  I couldn’t exactly argue with that, so I changed the subject. “So you really came to the U.S. to get away from your family’s notoriety?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Maybe. I would think being a celebrity is fun.”

  “It sure as hell isn’t,” he said. “Not if you’re born to it, anyway.”

  I sensed some deeper issues here, but decided now wasn’t the time to explore them. “Well, I guess I’m living proof that you achieved at least a margin of that anonymity,” I said grudgingly.

  “Aye, and I actually kind of liked it.”

  “Well, don’t think that just because you appear in Celebrity Focus, that’s going to make me go all gooey eyes over you.”

  He glanced sideways at me, a grin on his face. “I’m devastated. Guess you’ll just have to like me for my rapier wit and intelligence.”

  I sat up straight. “Speaking of intelligence or lack thereof, what the hell were you thinking when you dropped the gun back at the gas station? Are you a complete idiot?”

  “Hey,” he protested. “I had another gun, you know.”

  “You’re a lawyer, not Dirty Harry.”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use a gun.”

  “Sure and by the time you pulled it out, we’d have both been toast.”

  “Yet here we are, safe and sound. Chalk one up for the lawyer.”

  “Excuse me, but I saved your life. Need I remind you that I’m the crazed, shrieking maniac who jumped on his back?”

  “From that you deduce you’re the one who saved our lives?”

  “Damn right. Gave him a heart attack, didn’t I?”

  Finn started laughing and the tension that had been building between us lessened. To my surprise, I was relieved. As wary as I was of trusting Finn, I realized I was even more nervous of getting to Sweden alone. In a way, I was kind of glad to have him along. Even if it did temporarily screw up the plan.

  I watched the dark landscape rush past as we drove. “Do you know when you’re nervous or mad, your Irish accent returns big time?” I said.

  “I’m not surprised. It’s hard to concentrate on perfecting an American accent when I’m pissing mad or my life is in peril.”

  “Why change your accent at all?”

  “I don’t like to stand out.”

  Right. A gorgeous, intelligent guy like Finn would stand out no matter who or where he was, his celebrity status notwithstanding. Shame on me, that I didn’t see that at once.

  “Tell me what Ireland is like,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “I’ve always wanted to see it. Is it really as green as everyone says?”

  Finn chuckled. “It’s green because it rains a bloody lot. In terms of the countryside, there are narrow and winding roads, deep bogs, sharp, jutting cliffs and lots of loose chippings.”

  “Chippings?”

  “Rocks sharp as nails. The way the lorries and the tour buses all tear around the roads of Ireland these days, it’s a wonder there’s a working tire in the whole country.”

  I noticed that when he started to talk about Ireland, his voice changed, becoming dreamy and poetic with the softest hint of a lilt. I liked it.

  “I suppose you play soccer there, too.”

  “We call it football, but yes, I play. Just for fun. But my first love is hurling.”

  “Gross!”

  He laughed. “Hurling is a game similar to hockey. It’s played wit
h a small ball and a curved wooden stick. It’s Europe’s oldest field game, created by the Celts.”

  “It sounds fun, I guess. Do you miss it?”

  He paused. “I do. But I don’t miss the rag photographers who follow me around night and day when I’m in Ireland. It becomes tiresome quite fast.”

  “Why don’t they follow you around here?”

  “Oh, they did at first. But once I settled into my dull and predictable routine, it wasn’t so fun for them anymore. I get up, go to work and go home. It took them less than three weeks to die of boredom. They need far more colorful people than me to sell papers. Thankfully, we seem to have reached a mutually satisfactory balance and I try to give them their fill of me when I’m home on holiday. These days they’re fixated on my younger sister, Maureen. She’s pursuing a career as a pop singer.”

  He fell silent, so I stared out the dark window, barely able to keep my eyes open. The steady sway of the car and the excitement of the day were catching up with me, and not in a good way. I yawned. My eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds.

  “So, tell me more about your sister Maureen,” I said, blinking. “What’s she like?”

  “She’s a bloody pain in the arse. But I’m crazy about her. She just turned twenty-one and thinks she’s hot shit.”

  “Hot shit, huh? I bet you thought you were hot shit at twenty-one.”

  “I was hot shit,” he said, chuckling. “Had the world at my feet.” He turned and smiled at me. “I haven’t felt like that in years…until tonight. You know, Lexi, you make a lad feel like he could do anything.”

  “I’m taking that as a compliment because I’m too tired to argue.”

  “I meant it as a compliment.”

  “Just checking. You know, if guys like you hung around geek chicks like me more often, you’d be surprised at what you could learn.”

  “So I’m discovering,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. “How about you close your eyes for five and I’ll wake you when I’m ready to take a break.”

  “What? No more desire for small talk?”

  He shook his head and turned up the radio slightly. The soft jazz sounds were soothing and my head fell back on the headrest.

  “Okay, maybe I’ll just take five,” I agreed.