by Debby Giusti
Now he had her.
The cops were combing the city.
Clay looked at her beautiful eyes and smiling face. The curls and curves and exquisite smile were all he’d ever wanted. If only he could spend the rest of his life holding her in his arms.
Oh, God, help me. Clay raked his hands through his short hair. He had to find her. Had to find her alive.
Lord, I’ve turned my back on You for so many years, but if You are a loving God, give me a break. Provide a clue that leads to Violet.
One of the officers stepped into the living room, a cell phone pressed to his ear. “Yes, sir. We’ve searched the house but didn’t find anything or anyone.” He paused. “He’s right here.”
The cop held out the cell to Clay. “Chief Howard wants to talk to you.”
Clay took the phone. “Sir?”
“We found Jimmy’s car. Went over the turnaround on a mountain road.”
“Violet?”
“She wasn’t in the car.”
“What about Jimmy?”
“Survived the forty-foot drop. He’s in bad shape but alive. They’re taking him into surgery.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He was unconscious, Clay.”
“Maybe Violet wasn’t with him.” Perhaps this had all been a terrible bad dream.
“We found her cell phone in the front seat.”
“Could she have survived the fall and gotten out? Maybe she’s wandering along some mountain path?”
“I’ve got a team searching the area.”
“Give me directions. I want to help.”
“The weather’s changing, Clay. A storm’s rolling in. Let my men handle it.”
“Chief, please. You said you could use me.”
His plea worked. The chief gave Clay directions. The mountain road wasn’t far from the safe house.
Clay covered the distance in record time. Violet could be wandering around the mountain injured. Temperatures were dropping. The wind had increased, and from the looks of the gray sky, Mother Nature was about to do her thing.
As he drove up the side of the mountain, a light drizzle began to fall. The precipitation increased with the elevation. By the time Clay pulled into the clearing, the rain had turned to sleet that froze against his windshield.
If Violet was in those open-toe heels she always wore and her cute lightweight coat without a hat or mittens, she’d freeze to death. He had to find her.
An ominous sense of dread settled over him. Violet was good and pure and innocent. She didn’t deserve to be sucked into this terrible situation.
Had he been the reason? If he’d said no to Jackson and stayed in Chicago maybe none of this would have happened. He’d interfered and tried to solve everything his own way. Once again, it hadn’t worked.
He glanced at the darkening sky, feeling the cold penetrate the car. He shoved the defroster to high to clear the ice from the windshield, but even the wipers couldn’t keep up with the heavy winter mix.
The wheels slipped in the freezing slush.
Nearing the turnaround, his cell rang.
He flipped it open.
Jackson’s voice. The words were tumbling out one after another. “Cameron spilled the beans on a guy who used to be a regular in some of the clubs the mob ran in Chicago. Thought he was a high roller. Got used to the nightlife but gambled away everything he had in savings. Said he’d make good on the rest of it. Not too long ago, the mob pulled in the chips. Told him to take care of a little problem in Missoula and they’d call it even. I notified Chief Howard. He sent a patrol car to the guy’s house, but he’d cleared out.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s got a cabin. Higher elevation. At the summit of Dead Man’s Peak.”
“Are you talking about Gwyn’s boyfriend?”
“No, the other guy you mentioned. The reporter from the Daily News.”
Clay tensed. “You mean, Jimmy?”
“No. I’m talking about Quinn Smith.”
NINETEEN
Violet’s eyes opened when the SUV stopped. She moaned. Everything was starting to come back to her in bits and pieces.
Jimmy had struggled to protect her from Quinn. The two men had fought. Quinn knocked Jimmy out then shoved him back into his car. She’d tried to stop Quinn, but he’d raised his hand and struck her. The last thing she remembered was Jimmy’s car, with him in it, crashing over the edge of the steep drop-off.
Violet had blacked out and awakened crumpled in the backseat until her glance out the window had slammed her into darkness again. She blinked and tried to get her bearings.
The wind howled and icy snow hurled against the windshield. A small shack sat huddled against the edge of the mountain.
The car door opened. Quinn grabbed her arm and yanked her from the backseat. Her foot caught on the door. She fell, crashing to the frigid ground.
He jerked her upright. She looked toward the edge of the cliff. Her head swam and her stomach roiled.
She gagged.
He ripped the tape from her face and pulled the wad of fabric from her mouth. She retched again.
Thrashing against his arms, she tried to get free. He caught her hands, his grip as strong as a vise.
“Control yourself, Violet.”
Snow and sleet stung her face. “You’re a madman,” she screamed into the wind. Her hair swirled around her face.
He pinned her against his hip and shoved her around the car.
“You never had information about my aunt.”
“No, but I saw your Web site and knew you’d do anything to learn how she’d died. Even meet me on the edge of the mountain.”
“What do you want from me?” Violet demanded.
“I want your boyfriend. Someone needs to teach him a lesson.”
“You killed Gwyn.”
“I had to. She recognized me and knew I had ties to the mob.”
Violet tried to make sense of everything that had happened. “You followed me to the coffee shop.”
“The mob told me to get rid of you. But I wanted to give you a chance, Violet. That’s why I tried to scare you. Fool that you are, you didn’t take the hint.”
“You were the man standing in my kitchen, and you deleted my files at work. Did you steal my home laptop, as well?” She knew the answer before he spoke. “How’d you get into my house?”
Once again she realized her error. “You lifted my keys from my purse when I was at work. Easy enough to make a wax impression and have a new one made from the mold.”
“Now you’re thinking like the mob, Violet. I’m sorry you could never write that story you wanted. I’ll write one, talking about how a bad cop from Chicago, who had beaten a guy almost to death, played up to you. Jimmy tried to save you but died when he went over the edge of the turnaround. Clay pulled you into his car. He thought the mountain road intersected with Highway 90. The weather was bad and his car—with you in it—skidded into the mountain and went up in flames. I’ll torch Clay’s car with both of you in it so the police will buy the story.”
The man was deranged. “You won’t get away with it, Quinn.”
“I know the cops. I’ll explain how Clay had been jealous of Jimmy. Clay brought you up the mountain, never realizing it was a dead end at the top.”
Quinn moved her closer to the edge. “Maybe I should shove you over now and get rid of you that way. Then I’ll wait out here for Clay and handle him when he gets here. The mob wants him out of the picture. He got too close in Chicago, throwing his weight around, beating up one of their men, infiltrating their operation.”
Her head swam. Her knees went weak. She had to fight to save herself, but Quinn held her in a death grip.
She screamed as the ledge crumbled underfoot.
Clay clutched the steering wheel, white knuckled. The back tires skidded dangerously close to the edge of the road that dropped off into oblivion.
The steep mountain peak loomed above him. Quinn would be waiting at the
top. Would Violet still be alive?
Clay had to get to her in time.
The temperature plummeted with the increased elevation, freezing everything into a sheet of ice. Up ahead, Clay watched as a portion of the road broke off and slid down the mountain, leaving only a tiny edge too narrow for a car to navigate.
Clay braked to a stop and forced the door open against the wind. He’d have to travel the last hundred yards on foot.
Oh, God, help me. Let me get to Violet while she’s still alive.
He blinked against the sleet that fell like shards of ice and froze to his face, chapping his lips and stinging his cheeks.
He glanced ahead.
One last switchback. The cabin was perched around the final turn where he’d find Quinn.
The only way to surprise him would be to leave the path and climb up the rocky side of the mountain. Approaching from the rear, Clay might be able to get a drop on him.
Clay grabbed the rough rock, found a foothold and hoisted himself up, then searched for another crevice so he could climb higher.
He glanced down the sheer drop-off. Vertigo rolled over him, throwing his equilibrium into a tailspin. He clutched the rock until it passed.
Wind whipped around him. The frozen stone numbed his hands. He started out again, gaining a foothold, then another. Inch by inch, he crawled to the top and hoisted himself over a final cluster of boulders. Flattening himself against the side of the small hovel, Clay peered around the corner.
His heart dropped.
Quinn held Violet around the waist while her legs dangled over the edge of the mountain.
Violet screamed. Quinn stepped back. Her feet touched ground again. She almost fainted with relief. He laughed and pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt.
Her heart stopped. She had to get away.
“Quinn?”
Clay’s voice. He stood at the side of the cabin.
“Watch out!” she screamed. “He’s got a knife.”
With one arm around her chest, Quinn pressed the razor-sharp blade to her throat, nicking her flesh. Drops of blood trickled down her neck.
She struggled, trying to get away.
“Let her go.” Clay raised his hands and stepped forward. “Take me instead, Quinn. I’m not armed. I can’t hurt you.”
“You don’t understand,” Quinn said. “I have to kill her.”
“It has to do with your gambling debts, doesn’t it?” Clay’s voice was calm.
“They told me the slate would be wiped clean if I got rid of Violet.”
She shivered from the biting cold and raw fear that made her gasp for air.
“Cameron’s back in Chicago,” Clay said. “He told the cops about you.”
“You’re lying.”
“They’ll find you, Quinn. Jimmy’s alive, but only barely. If he dies, you’ll get Murder One.”
Clay glanced at Violet. His eyes conveyed strength and determination. “Let her go and it’ll be easier for you.”
Quinn sneered. “You’re trying to fool me.”
He took a step back, dragging Violet along with him. She looked down. Another few inches and they’d both tumble over the edge.
“Violet?” Clay’s voice was reassuring. Instinctively, she knew what he wanted her to do. Somehow, she had to distract Quinn. But she couldn’t. She was too frightened.
She needed Clay. She’d always needed him.
“Help me,” she whimpered.
“Remember we’re a team,” he said with conviction.
A team meant she did her part and Clay would do his. For once, everything didn’t rest on her shoulders. She didn’t have to be totally in control.
Quinn’s hands shook. The cold was affecting him. He glanced over his shoulder.
Violet shoved her weight against him.
He lost his balance. The knife dropped through his fingers, and his hold on her eased ever so slightly.
She swiveled out of his grasp then started to fall. Clay grabbed her hand and pulled her to safety.
Quinn’s arms flailed.
Clay lunged for him. The two locked grips before Quinn slipped over the edge. His legs pedaled the air. A cross draft caught him, ripping his hand free.
Throwing himself down on to the frozen ground, Clay grabbed Quinn’s coat, catching him just in time.
The weight pulled Clay forward.
Violet screamed, slapping at Clay’s leg, trying to stop the fateful fall.
His foot locked around a boulder.
Straining, Clay dragged Quinn up and over the edge.
Violet reached for the discarded knife and shoved it into Clay’s hand. Holding the blade to Quinn’s neck, Clay forced him to turn over then tied the reporter’s arms behind him, using his own belt. Once Quinn was secure, Clay pulled Violet into his arms.
She trembled in his embrace. The terrible nightmare was over. She’d almost lost Clay. Nothing had terrified her more.
Far below, shouts from the police sounded.
“We’re up here,” Clay yelled. “Everything’s under control.”
Violet heard Clay’s heart beat in sync with hers. Wrapped in his warmth, she felt life flowing back into her trembling body. The mountain, the ice, the cliff, nothing mattered except being in Clay’s arms.
TWENTY
Two weeks later, Violet and Clay stood in the dining room of Bernice’s house. The endearing neighbor busied herself in the kitchen, while Violet arranged a bouquet of red roses Clay had given her in a crystal vase.
“They’re beautiful, Clay.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
Violet smiled as she placed the arrangement in the center of the dining-room table. Grabbing a pitcher from the sideboard, she filled the water glasses at each of the six place settings.
“Are you sure we can’t help you?” Clay called to Bernice in the kitchen.
“Everything’s almost ready. You and Violet visit in the living room. Leonard should arrive in the next few minutes. Watch for him while I take off this apron and put on some lipstick.”
“Micah phoned. He picked Jade up from that librarian’s workshop she attended on campus today. They’ll be here soon. Thanks for including them tonight, Bernice.”
“The more the merrier.” She stepped into the hallway, heading for her bedroom.
“How’d the meeting go at Police Headquarters?” Violet asked Clay once the two of them were alone.
“I told Chief Howard I’d accept the position with the Missoula P.D., if and when the problem in Chicago is resolved.”
“You haven’t heard anything?”
“Not yet. I thought they’d make their announcement by now. But I do have news that will interest you.”
She slipped her hand into his, eager to hear what he had to say.
“Cameron has been talking to the FBI. Do you remember Lettie’s boyfriend?”
“Brad Meyers. Of course I do.”
“I asked Jackson if he could find out anything about him. Turns out the FBI pulled a guy off the street who knew Brad in Detroit. The guy said alcohol loosened Brad’s tongue one night, and he bragged about killing a high school student and a gal who had been in love with him.”
Tears sprung to Violet’s eyes.
“They haven’t found him yet, but I’m positive once they do, your father’s name will finally be cleared.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, dabbing her eyes and trying to control the overwhelming gratitude that flowed through her. Clay kissed her cheek, which caused her to smile. “What about Cameron? Did he provide anything that could be used against the Martino family?” she asked.
“Not per se, but he did expose the guy who runs most of the prostitution on the South side. It’s not the capo, but this guy’s big enough. Chicago law enforcement will be able to clean up at least part of the city. They’re trying to help the women who want a new start in life.”
“That’s good news,” Violet said. “Stu got a call from Jimmy today. He’s impr
oving physically and agreed to long-term psychiatric care.”
Clay squeezed her hand. “I know you worry about him.”
“I feel responsible.”
“Honey, he was obsessed with you. That’s not your fault. It’ll take time, but hopefully, intensive therapy will straighten him out.”
Violet knew Clay was right, but she still worried about Jimmy. There was someone else she worried about, as well. “Did Micah mention Jen Davis?”
“Only that they located a woman who matches her description. She goes by the name of Hannah Shore. They’re keeping her under surveillance.”
“Olivia and Eloise?”
Clay shook his head. “No news yet.”
Before Clay could say anything else, his cell rang. He glanced at the caller’s name and smiled as he flipped it open.
“Hey, Jackson. How’s everything in Chicago?”
Clay’s face grew serious as they talked. Finally, he grinned. “Thanks. Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll put her on.”
Violet took the phone.
“Clay said you came to a decision about the Mafia story,” Jackson said.
“I decided to sit on it. I won’t print anything about the mob or the Martino family or the women who were killed until I hear from you.”
“Thanks, Violet. You’ll get an exclusive when it’s all over,” Jackson said. “I can promise you that.”
“But I would like to write a piece on Gwyn Duncan, if that’s okay. I’ll send you a copy of the story to get your approval before it goes to print.”
“No need to get my approval. I trust your good judgment. Enjoy your dinner tonight, and tell my brother and future sister-in-law I said hello.”
Violet handed the phone back to Clay. He looked like a helium balloon ready to explode.
“Do you have some news to share?” she asked once he had pocketed his cell phone.
“The inquiry voted in my favor. Chicago P.D. learned more from Cameron than they would have in the sting we had planned. Jackson said they found me completely in the clear.”
“Oh, Clay, that’s wonderful.”
“Better than that, it means I can accept the job here in Missoula. You’ll have me underfoot. Bernice will be happy.”