A Just Deception

by Adrienne Giordano

  Blood.

  Footsteps sounded above and he shot a look at the ceiling. The sound halted somewhere around the kitchen-family room border.

  A sudden burst of voices, then immediate quiet filtered through the floor. The television volume being lowered.

  Fuck me. Someone was watching television. At 3:00 a.m.

  Un-friggin-believable.

  Peter stuck the flashlight between his teeth, set the garments back and, using his pick, relocked the drawer. He dug out his cell phone and fired a text to Izzy. Please hear your phone buzz. Otherwise he’d be stuck in the basement all night and everyone would wake up in the morning wondering where he was.

  Shit.

  Thirty seconds later his phone vibrated in his hand. Yes.

  With swift fingers, he replied: Stuck in bsmnt. Someone watching TV. Get them out of there.

  The answer was a swift and decisive Okay.

  “That’s my girl.”

  He stood in the center of the basement listening for footsteps. Five minutes had passed, so any time now, she should be hitting the first floor. The sudden click of heels tapped above him. She must have put sandals on so he’d hear her. Smart girl.

  He tracked her steps to the kitchen, then heard muffled voices. After a few minutes, the clicking heels started again. This time toward the front door. And then silence. He held his phone in his hand waiting for it to buzz with a text that said no go, but nothing happened.

  She must have gotten the person out of there. At least he hoped so.

  He made his way up the stairs, silently flipped the lock and peeked out. The kitchen light had been turned off. Nobody there. Good signal, Iz.

  After stepping out and making sure he was alone, he used the pick to lock the basement door. That took longer than he would have liked, but he finally nailed it and, with his back to the wall, crept into the kitchen and took a gander around the doorway. Nothing. The front door was open a crack and he heard Izzy’s voice.

  On the porch. Damn, she was good.

  He started up the stairs and heard Seth say, “I’ll get more lemonade.”

  Son of a bitch.

  Peter spun around and made like he was coming down the steps just as Seth came in.

  “Oh, hello,” he said, his squirrely face a cross between guilty schoolboy and oh shit!

  Peter continued down the stairs. “I heard voices. Everything all right?”

  “Yes. I was watching television and Isabelle came down for some lemonade.”

  Lemonade. Right.

  He walked past Seth, stuck his head out the door and saw Izzy sitting cross-legged on the porch swing. She kept her eyes squared with his, completely unfazed. Peter checked on Seth, but he was already in the kitchen.

  “Sorry if we woke you,” Izzy said, half-grinning at him.

  He nodded. “No problem. Just wanted to check.”

  “Everything is fine,” she said, heavy on the eye contact.

  Yep. She had this handled. Still though, he’d wait in his room until he heard her shuffle back to bed. If she didn’t come up in half an hour he’d figure out a way to get her back upstairs.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” he said.

  Several minutes later he crawled into bed with the vision of that medical office and the bloody underwear glued to his brain.

  Could Nicole Pratt have been pregnant? If so, was she killed because of it? And were those her clothes?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  At eight-thirty the next morning, with the sun pounding onto the patio bricks, Peter held the back door open for Izzy.

  He stalked toward the middle of the grass and slugged a shot of coffee from the mug he held.

  More. Coffee.

  Sleep had eluded him after the sneak and peek, and mainlining coffee would be the only way to boot him up. The overload would make him irritable as all hell, but life sucked that way. After all these years he was used to it.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked.

  “Seth took Mary Beth and the girls into town for something. They should be back by lunchtime. Courtney is in the shower. Where are we going?”

  “Away from the house. I don’t want to be overheard.”

  He stopped in the middle of the backyard where the swings rocked in the wind. This fucking place. It looked like Fantasyland, but nothing about it sat right with him. And the doctor’s office in the basement was just the tip of it.

  These assholes weren’t even trying to hide the money they threw around. What the hell would a non-profit be doing with five thousand dollars worth of granite countertops? Not to mention the fancy appliances and flat screen television.

  He turned to Izzy. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and edginess filled him.

  “Nice work last night,” he said. “I’m not happy Seth is so taken with you, but it worked.”

  He gulped more coffee. Seth Donner wanted Izzy. Simple fact. Nothing shocking considering her unbelievable hotness, but having her flaunt it to get what she needed was tough to watch.

  She knew how to get the job done, but he didn’t want her using her body to do it. Or at least he wanted her to be uncomfortable about it. And he didn’t seem to be getting his way in either case. Which pissed him off.

  Don’t judge.

  Reminding himself of her sexual abuse and the resulting birth of Creepy Izzy kept him from going insane. She thought of sex as a weapon in her arsenal. Nothing emotional about it.

  Maybe this pissed-off-at-the-world attitude was about Seth. Or, maybe Peter was freaking exhausted. Not so much physical exhaustion. He could go a couple of days on minimal sleep. But the mental shit was eating him alive. He wanted Izzy out of this place and away from Seth. Something fucked-up was happening here, and she didn’t have the undercover experience to recognize danger.

  “What did you find in the basement?”

  Peter inclined his head, taking in his favorite do-rag wrapped around her head. “It’s a medical office.”

  This information must have slammed into her with the force of a category five hurricane because she stepped back. “In the basement?”

  “It’s set up like an OB/GYN office. Medical supplies. An examining table with stirrups. The whole bit. Where does Courtney go for her doctor’s appointments?”

  Izzy shook her head. “I don’t know. I offered to drive her, but she said it’s not a problem.”

  Peter exhaled a sickening breath. “Probably because they’re doing them in the basement.”

  “But who’s playing doctor?”

  “Don’t know.” He drained the last of his coffee and rolled the mug between his palms. “I found a set of women’s maternity clothes and underwear with some blood. Not a lot, but enough.”

  Izzy put her hands over her face and slid them down. “Oh my God.”

  “We need to know if Nicole Pratt was pregnant when she left here. If she left.”

  Then I want to get you the hell out of here.

  Peter had broken the supreme rule of not getting emotional about an op. Knowing he could screw up and get Izzy hurt plunged into him.

  Billy’s advice about not trying to control every damned thing filtered back. Focus on the mission.

  “I talked to Janet at my office. She’ll send you an email to forward to Seth. She’ll plant a virus in the email that should let her grab what’s on his hard drive. In the meantime, we need to ask Courtney about the basement. See what she has to say.” He inhaled sharply as the full brunt of the coffee attacked his empty stomach. “This coffee is killing me.”

  Izzy eyed him. “I’ll talk to Courtney. You’re crabby and I don’t want Courtney upset.”

  Peter shrugged. “I’m not going to upset her.”

  But he would push her. Hard. No problem there. Not if it meant finding Nicole Pratt. A vision of a dead pregnant girl flashed into his mind. Jesus, he’d never get that out of there.

  “She’s skittish. If you intimidate her, we’ll get nothing.”

  The patio door opened and
Courtney, dressed in an oversized sleeveless maternity top and shorts, came outside. The strap of the top slipped down her shoulder and she righted it before approaching them.

  “Hey, Isabelle,” she said. “Rich boy, you’re dressed down today.”

  Peter glanced down at his khaki shorts and golf shirt. If she only knew. “Yeah. This is more my speed.”

  Courtney’s gaze swung between them. “What are you guys doing?”

  “I was having coffee before heading down to the cabins to find the residents I missed yesterday.”

  Izzy nodded. “He’s trying to get all his interviews done today because he’s leaving in the morning.”

  Yeah, he had one day to wrap this shit up and get her out of here.

  He was so screwed.

  Unless someone—like Courtney—started talking.

  Courtney shifted back to Peter. “How’s that going? The interviews?”

  “Well, I’ll tell ya,” he said in a tone Izzy clearly didn’t like because she shot him a WTF look. Sorry, babe. Business to transact. “I’m getting a weird vibe.”

  “Peter—” she said.

  But he ignored her and kept a hard stare on Courtney. “Like something’s not right in Oz. You have any thoughts on that?”

  Courtney swayed a little and Izzy reached a hand to her. “Are you okay?”

  She bobbed her head up and down and sent her long blond ponytail bouncing. “I’m fine. Just a dizzy spell. It happens sometimes.”

  “Courtney?” Peter needed answers and she had them. He was sure of it.

  “Why would I know anything? I’m just minding my own business until I have this baby and I can leave.”

  “Right,” he said. “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

  Courtney’s eyes went wild. Literally shifting all over the place. “Why?”

  “Okay.” Isabelle grabbed Courtney’s arm. “We’re done here. Peter can go do his interviews while we have breakfast.”

  The two women started toward the house and Izzy hurled him a sneer over her shoulder. Yep. She’s pissed. Nothing he could do about that.

  “You ladies do that. I’ll be back in a while.”

  And I want some goddamned answers.

  “Yeesh,” Courtney said as she and Isabelle walked to the house. “What’s his problem?

  Isabelle snorted a not-so-amused laugh at Courtney’s mind reading abilities. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  They entered the kitchen and Isabelle went to the fridge and grabbed the eggs and some cheddar cheese. “Omelet sound good?”

  “Sure,” Courtney said. “High protein.”

  Isabelle started cracking eggs into a large bowl. She blasted one and the shell disintegrated. Take a breath. She fished the pieces of broken shell out of the bowl. “I’m sorry about Peter. His radar is beeping on something. He’s worried he’s going to give half a million dollars to a charity that doesn’t deserve it.”

  Courtney gagged. “Half. A million.”

  “You can see why he’s concerned. Half a mil is half a mil, and Peter is a smart man. Even if he acts like an ass at times.”

  “Wow.”

  Isabelle cracked the last egg, threw the shell away and started scrambling with a ferocity that should have rocked the house. “Courtney, I don’t know what Peter is sensing but his instincts are good.”

  Courtney wiggled her head back and forth. “I don’t know anything.”

  Isabelle held up a hand. “Relax. I just want you to know if you need something, you can come to me. I have no loyalties to Seth. Frankly, I came here to close the door on my own demons and I’m not sure it’s working. I’m leaving soon, but I’ll give you my numbers. Even if I’m not here, it doesn’t mean you can’t come to me.”

  The stiffness in Courtney’s shoulders melted, and she collapsed against the back of the stool. She brought her gaze to Isabelle’s.

  Thinking.

  Isabelle put the bowl aside and reached across the counter. “I’ll help you.”

  Tears moistened the girl’s eyes and the air stilled in contrast to Isabelle’s pounding heart. Courtney had something to say.

  What is going on with her?

  “I’ll help you,” she repeated.

  Courtney swiped at her tears. “I can’t. I just need to have this baby and get out of here.”

  “I’ll help you after you have the baby. Peter will help you. We’ll find you a job and put a roof over your head. You can leave this all behind. If you change your mind and want to keep the baby, we’ll help with that also. There are plenty of single mothers out there.”

  But Courtney did the panicked head shake again. “No. The decision about the baby has already been made.”

  A whipping anger smacked at Isabelle. “You keep saying that. Are you not allowed to change your mind? I change my mind five thousand times a day over inconsequential things. Give yourself a break. If you want this baby, then keep her.”

  She bit down on her lip and stepped back. That was something. Regret licked at her for shooting off her mouth.

  “Screw you,” Courtney said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Go ahead and leave.”

  “Courtney—”

  “Shut up!” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I don’t need you telling me my life could be different. I don’t have your education. I’m just trying to survive and you’re going to mess it up!”

  “Hold on,” Isabelle said, coming around the breakfast bar. Courtney stood and squared off with her, her eyes cold and hard, like the light had been snuffed. Isabelle knew that kind of cold. She’d been living with it for years.

  She took a tentative step closer and waited. Courtney stood stone still. No movement. Good. She slowly put her arms around the frightened girl and the hard lump of Courtney’s belly pressed against her midsection.

  They remained in the quiet of the kitchen, swaying a little in the embrace. “I’m sorry I made you angry.”

  “You can’t help me,” Courtney said, her voice hitching with tears as she hugged back. “It’s too late.”

  And with that, she broke away from Isabelle and hurried from the room.

  Isabelle exhaled. Almost. She almost had her. Courtney wanted to talk.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  After Seth had returned home with Mary Beth and the girls, Isabelle walked into the kitchen to find the women preparing lunch while he did his usual disappearing act. Mary Beth stood at the stove browning meat and wearing a baggy T-shirt that said Go Ahead, Make My Day. How appropriate.

  Isabelle nodded. “Can I help?”

  “No. I’ve got it.”

  “Fine.” She glanced around the kitchen, stepped into a stream of sunlight from the glass door and tilted her face up. She suddenly yearned for the normalcy of going to her office every day.

  She needed to do something. The morning run-in with Courtney had churned her into a sour mood. She was so far over her head she should be staring up at the curb.

  “Have you seen Peter?” she asked.

  “I think he’s down at the cabins.”

  Isabelle pulled the door open. “I’ll find him.”

  Where could he have disappeared to? Being a smart man, he was probably hiding from the tongue-lashing she wanted to give him. She whipped out her cell phone and sent him a text while she tromped down the path toward the cabins. The exercise gave her muscles a long overdue workout, but these little snatches of exercise didn’t compare to the ass kicking she usually gave her heavy bag. The heavy bag helped her cope and her mind and body craved the release.

  A few minutes later her phone beeped and she punched the button to read the text. Peter. Talking to a family in the last cabin. Almost done. Wait.

  Great. She kept walking. Thick hundred-year-old trees separated the cabins and offered shelter from the sun’s heat. Five minutes later Peter emerged from the cabin. She picked up her pace to meet him by the end of the path. “Where’ve you been all mornin
g?”

  He waved his hand toward the cabins. “I’ve been talking to all these people. One lost his job and got his house foreclosed. One is on disability and can’t support her kids. One has cancer and can’t afford the medical bills.”

  “I know,” she said. “It makes me appreciate my life.”

  “No shit.” Peter jerked his thumb at the cabin he’d just come from. “Did you meet this guy? He hated Kendrick. Apparently, Kendrick had a thing for his teenage daughter.”

  “Oh no.”

  “It’s fine. He told the daughter to stay away from Kendrick. She’s a good girl and did so.”

  “Did you meet the family with the pregnant sixteen-year-old?”

  Peter scoffed. “Yeah. That guy. He was interesting. Did you know they got here through the same place that sent Courtney here?”

  Wow. “I didn’t know that.”

  “They’re all good, hardworking people. They don’t deserve this.” He shook his head. “This place is a breeding ground for the downtrodden.”

  “They’re trying to make—”

  Breeding ground.

  “What?” he asked.

  Isabelle ran her fingers over her mouth and focused on the tree behind Peter. Breeding ground. What an odd way to put it, but she supposed he was right. At least they had shelter, food and an opportunity to find work from Seth’s organization. Even if it was a front.

  Breeding ground.

  She tilted her head and silently replayed her conversations with Courtney.

  “What?” Peter repeated.

  And the way they’d all grimaced when she made the crack about not drinking the water because it made everyone pregnant.

  The medical office.

  Peter snapped his fingers in her face. “Izzy?”

  The decision is made.

  “I think I know,” she said.

  How could they have not seen this? She slid her hands down her face and wiped away the salty moisture of her sweat. No. No. No. It couldn’t be. Her eyes nearly exploded from the pressure behind them. “Could they be breeding babies? Selling them on the black market?”