Brett still avoided eye contact. “No one else knows. We’re sorry we had to go to such extremes, but—”
Heather raised her hand. “Enough!” she shouted, and rubbed her temples to calm down. “It’s clear I have nothing to do with Dario or Rózsa or viruses and whatever the hell else you thought I was involved in. So please remove your spy devices and stay the hell away from me. Do you hear me, Brett?”
Brett finally looked at her. “It’s not that simple.”
Heather felt like pulling her hair. Was her life really unraveling before her eyes?
She went to the door and opened it. “I want you both to leave. Right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
hase got up and walked toward the door, and Jack followed a pace behind, but both stopped when they got within reach of Heather. “We need your help,” Chase said. She was standing so close to Heather she couldn’t help inhaling her scent. Her hair smelled of spice and vanilla, and the enticing aroma was making it hard to keep her focus. Everything about this woman intoxicated her. “Please, just hear what we have to say,” she said softly as she dropped her gaze to Heather’s mouth.
In her bare feet, Heather was a couple of inches shorter than she was, and she looked down as she seemed to consider how to answer, so Chase couldn’t see the expression in her eyes.
When Heather finally looked up at her, it was with such intensity that Chase’s breath caught. Her heart began to pound and it took all her willpower to back up a step instead of following the overwhelming compulsion to close the inches separating them.
Heather had a quizzical look on her face, and Chase was certain she looked just as confused. “Help you how?” Heather asked.
“Why don’t we sit back down?” Chase suggested.
She and Jack both waited where they were as Heather started toward the couch. Even without makeup, in jeans and a T-shirt, this woman was incredibly beautiful. She couldn’t stop staring.
“Focus, Landor. Emily is off bounds,” Jack said.
Heather turned to look at Chase, and Chase saw bewilderment give way to recognition. “He looks like you,” she said. “And Emily…she…”
“Looks like you,” Chase said, intent on Heather.
“While this is all very cool in a creepy kinda way, can we get back to why we need her help?” Jack asked.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Heather said abruptly, and shut herself away in the adjoining room.
Chase took the armchair this time. She needed to put some distance between herself and Heather, especially since Heather looked particularly uncomfortable.
“What’s up with the musical chairs?” Jack asked. “You’re in my spot.”
“Have you lost every sense of decorum?” she mumbled. “Just sit on the couch.”
“Easy, champ, this awkwardness is all you.”
“The awkwardness is because you can’t censor what comes out of your mouth.”
“Hey, give me a break. I’m pretty surprised here, too. Who knew all those hours of doodling would lead to Landor.”
“Try to deal with it mutely and sit down.”
“You’re in my chair,” Jack repeated.
Heather came out of the bathroom, still looking uncomfortable.
“She’s back,” Chase said in a low voice. “Sit the fuck down or I’ll hurt you.”
“Oooo, I’m scared. Look at me shake.” Jack sat down on the couch just as Heather did.
“So, this is the deal,” Jack said. “Rózsa kidnapped an operative before he disappeared.”
“I thought you said he had your girlfriend,” Heather responded.
“Who happens to be an operative,” Jack said.
“And you are…what, by the way, if you’re on loan to this organization?” Heather asked.
“Long, complicated, and irrelevant story, but I check out,” Jack replied. “Anyway, Rózsa has my girl, and the only way we can get to her is through him. And the only way we can get to Rózsa is through the only man we know who has had contact with him.”
“Dario,” Heather said.
“Yeah. Only problem is, if we scare Dario, he’s going to alert Rózsa,” Jack explained.
“And Rózsa will run,” Heather said.
“You’re catching on. Now, we know he’s about to leave for China to see a seller he owes money to. One who’s making life difficult for him. You see, Rózsa is wanted internationally, and by contacting Dario, he’s jeopardizing Dario’s safety. We’re pretty sure Dario wants to make Rózsa disappear, and we think he’s going to do it in China. So we have to get my girl out of there before Dario gets to her, because he won’t leave any witnesses.”
Chase had already considered that scenario but hadn’t expressed her concern to Jack. She was surprised how calm Jack remained right now, knowing what Dario might be up to.
“I’m really very sorry about all this,” Heather said, “and I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but what do I have to do with it?”
“We need someone to get close to Dario,” Jack replied. “We don’t know what he looks like and haven’t even been able to get a last name.”
“I’ve never seen him, either. Can’t the police help?”
“We know you’ve never seen him. You probably don’t know he’s in a wheelchair, either.”
“I had no idea.”
“If we involve the police, they would bring Dario in for questioning, which would lead nowhere, and we’d still be no closer to finding Cass…my girl,” Jack said.
“So what do you want me to do?”
“He wants you to go with him to China,” Chase said.
“So?”
Chase started squirming again, but she couldn’t help it. “We want you—”
“Oh, no,” Heather said, as the pieces fell into place. “No way. Forget it. I’m not going anywhere near that creep.”
Though they needed her cooperation, Chase was relieved to find out she was right about Heather; she would have never accepted Dario’s offer even if it meant a lot of money.
“I’m never going anywhere near him ever again.”
“Heather, I know the guy is scary, but we’ll have your back the whole time,” Chase said. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Oh, really? Will you take my place when he wants to be entertained? Because just the thought of having to…be around him makes me sick to my stomach.”
“I understand it must be difficult to—”
“Difficult? It’s difficult the first ten times. After that, it’s downright disgusting. I know what you both must think of me. That I’m some kind of…of…whore. But I’m not. Doing this, week after week, man after man, satisfying the needs of whoever can…afford you. Do you have any idea how revolting it is? How degrading, to have to pretend you enjoy it? How demeaning, to accept their money like they’ve just done you a favor? All of them, without exception, think I actually enjoy it.” She laughed, almost manically. “I don’t know any woman in this business who enjoys it. It’s all a farce. One big joke.”
Chase could feel Jack staring at her.
“I make them all feel they’re special, like stallions that have just mounted the world. But when it’s all said and done, the joke’s on me.”
Chase couldn’t look at Heather, and Jack wouldn’t stop staring at her. She hadn’t deluded herself into believing the call girls she paid lived the romance of their life during those hours, but she never considered they might feel nauseated afterward. She refused to believe that.
“But I digress,” Heather said bitterly.
“I won’t pretend to know how it is on your end,” Chase said. “But I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t have to sleep with anyone for Dario.”
“Not for Dario, not for anyone. I’m done with this. I just can’t do it anymore. Not for my career, not even for my brother.”
“Heather, we’ll protect you at all times,” Jack said.
Chase struggled to remain professional and keep to the n
eeds of their mission. Personally, she was glad Heather wanted to stop this life, and if it was up to her, she’d keep her as far away from Dario as she could. But she was being paid to save Lynx and stop Rózsa. “All you have to do is help us ID him.”
“Catch him at the airport,” Heather said.
“We’ve already looked into that. We can’t find a Dario booked for China. He’s either traveling under a false ID or privately.”
“I’m not going anywhere near a creep who buys viruses and hides behind two-way mirrors. And…oh, yeah, knows everything about me.”
“He doesn’t deal in viruses. That’s Rózsa,” Jack said.
“So why does Dario owe him?”
“Because he buys organs from Rózsa. Dario’s so-called furniture business is a front for a black-market organ ring,” Chase replied.
Heather looked horrified. “Organs?”
“Rózsa used human guinea pigs to test the virus,” Chase explained. “Once he was done with them, he sold their organs to help fund his research.”
“He killed them?”
“Are you surprised?” Jack asked. “Look at how many died because of the virus. The guy’s a sick son of a bitch.”
“And you want me to walk into this madness eyes wide open?”
“Like I said, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Chase forced herself to say, though she knew all too well the risk Heather would be taking and that even the best-laid plans went wrong. Stay focused, she kept repeating to herself.
Heather shook her head. “My answer is still no.”
Without warning, Jack dropped to one knee in front of Heather. “I’ve done a lot in my life. Good things, bad things, and things somewhere in between, but there’s one thing I’ve never done, even when my life depended on it.” Jack paused and looked down. When she looked at Heather again, Chase could see tears rolling down Jack’s cheeks. “I’ve never begged anyone to help me. But Cassady is my everything.” Her voice broke. “If I lose her, I lose everything. Please don’t let me lose her.” She placed her hand on Heather’s and Heather didn’t pull away; instead she caressed it.
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” she said in a soft voice.
Jack turned to Chase. “I can’t lose her again.”
Chase had never seen Jack like this, and her heart broke when she saw her crying. She would give everything to take her pain away right then. She looked at Heather. “Heather, it’s not just Cassady who’s in danger.”
Jack got back on the couch but looked miserable.
“What do you mean?” Heather asked.
Chase pulled the last trump card from her pocket. If this didn’t work, they were on their own. She turned on Francine Shelhorn’s cell, flipped through the pictures until she found the one she needed, and held the phone up for Heather to see.
“Gigi!” Heather covered her mouth in shock. “She’s my friend.”
“We found her phone at the house she called you from, the night she disappeared,” Chase said.
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know,” Chase replied. “What we do know is that she made a 911 call that night saying Dario was going to kill her.”
“Dario? She never met Dario.” Heather got up. “Gigi… Francine is dead?”
“I don’t know. But it’s the last time she was seen and his was the only name she mentioned.”
“So she could still be alive, right?” Heather looked from Jack to Chase, seeming desperate for one of them to give her hope. “Maybe he kidnapped her, the way Rózsa kidnapped your girlfriend,” she said to Jack.
“I can’t answer that, Heather,” Jack replied.
“I mean, what else would he want with Francine? Why would he hurt her? Dario always pays. He wouldn’t have to resort to violence if he wanted sex.”
Chase didn’t reply and Jack kept looking at the floor.
“Oh, my God. Do you think he killed her for…for organs?” Heather looked appalled.
“We don’t know.” Although Chase’s gut knew the answer, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Heather, and apparently neither could Jack.
Heather visibly paled. “Do you think he wants me to join him so he can…can…”
“No, he wouldn’t take you to China for that. I think he’s actually smitten with you,” Chase said between gritted teeth.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Heather swayed unsteadily, and Chase ran to her side and put her arm around her waist. Heather was shaking uncontrollably and Chase feared she’d pass out.
“Maybe you should sit down,” she said. Heather let her help her to the couch, and Chase made her sip some water. “I can’t believe that bastard killed Francine,” she said when she’d composed herself.
“He’s hurt a lot of girls like your friend,” Jack said gently. “And you can help us stop him.”
Heather looked up at Chase, who was hovering over her to make sure she was okay. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mouchamps, France
Next day, November 23
Claude Theroux’s evening was looking up. As the most recent hire on Mouchamps’s small police force, he was assigned to work the least desirable shift—evenings and weekends—and except for the occasional bar brawl it made for a generally boring routine. The schedule had also put a crimp in his efforts to woo the new clerk at the flower shop, but Therese had worked late tonight preparing bouquets for a wedding and happily agreed to let Claude walk her home.
As they ambled slowly toward her apartment, he said, “Please tell me you’ve no plans for tomorrow evening as yet. I apologize for asking on such short notice, but my days off just changed so I didn’t know I’d be free.”
Therese frowned. “I’m afraid I’ve made dinner plans. I promised my parents I’d drive up to see them, and they’d be horribly disappointed if I didn’t.”
Claude’s heart sank. A lot of other young men in the village had their eye on Therese—she wouldn’t stay unattached for long. “The morning, then? I’ll take you to breakfast, and we can spend the day however you like until you have to leave. Please say yes.”
Therese paused and smiled up at him. “I’d love to. And perhaps if we’re having too much fun, I’ll have to take you with me.”
“I’ll do my very best to ensure that is the case,” he replied. It wasn’t until after he’d said good night that he realized he’d completely forgotten about his promise to his aunt Agnes. She’d been nagging him to do her a favor, and he’d told her that morning he would take care of it on his day off. His shift ended at ten p.m., which was entirely too late to be dropping in, unannounced, on anyone. But perhaps the man she’d asked him to see might still be up and he could get the matter out of the way. If not, he could at least tell his aunt he’d stopped by and would try again.
Truth be told, he felt a little sorry for the man he was going to visit, the newcomer his aunt called Monsieur Elusive. He was Gwenn Etienne’s new neighbor, and Gwenn was the village’s most notorious busybody, so Claude pitied anyone within striking distance of her gossip and unrelenting scrutiny. Most likely, the man was simply a reclusive bachelor, or perhaps a foreigner still uncomfortable about interacting with locals, and that was why he was rarely seen outside his cottage.
He got into his Mini Cooper and headed toward the address his aunt had supplied. Gwenn Etienne’s house was dark as he went by, but a light was still on in the back of the cottage next door, so he parked and used his flashlight to negotiate through the weed-choked walkway.
Claude knocked twice, loud enough to be heard at the back of the cottage. When a minute went by with no response, he knocked again, even louder, and called out, “Hello? Is anyone home? I’m with the village police department, and I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
He heard a distant, muted sound from within. It almost sounded like a shout of some kind, but he couldn’t make it out. He tried again. “Hello? Are you all right?”
The loud click of the bolt startled him, but he
regained his composure before the door opened. A man with dark hair and a beard, dressed in crumpled trousers and a work shirt, stood before him, taking in Claude’s uniform with interest. “How can I help you, Officer?” the man asked in heavily accented English.
Claude responded in English. “I’m sorry to trouble you so late, sir. But your neighbors were concerned that you haven’t been seen much since you arrived and wanted me to make sure everything was all right.” When the man scowled in annoyance, he added, “We’re a small community, and we look out for each other.”
Just then, Claude heard that muted shout again. Louder, now that the door was open, and it sounded like a woman’s voice. He looked curiously past the homeowner, but could see no one else inside. “Do you live alone, sir?”
“That’s just my radio,” the man replied. “I left it on in my workshop. I appreciate your concern, Officer, but I’m fine, I assure you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was just about to turn in.” He started to close the door, but Claude put a hand on it to stop him.
“I’d like to come in and take a look around, if you don’t mind,” Claude said. Something wasn’t right about the man’s haste to get rid of him, not to mention the odd shouts, punctuated by silence.
“Is that really necessary?” the man asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
“It won’t take long.”
The man hesitated for another few seconds before he opened the door and stepped aside. “If you must.”
Claude entered and took in his surroundings. The place needed maintenance badly. A draft of cool air came from the ancient windows, and a long crack marred one of the walls. Not surprising, really—he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had lived here. “I can’t place your accent,” Claude said as he went from the living room into a bedroom, the homeowner trailing behind him. “Eastern Europe?”
“Croatia.”
He next came to a bathroom and storage closet. Nothing seemed unusual. “May I have your name, sir?”
Demons are Forever Page 19