He’d hoped things would be okay after the judge released him for lack of evidence, but his stepfather said a real man never let his girl get hurt. A real man would have taken the bullet for her, not held the gun that killed her. So much big talk, and now, because of “Mr. O’Connor” his mother was murdered. Beaten up, and bled to death.
Chapter 9
A knock sounded on Derry’s front door. Mary and Lamar had arrived.
“Come in.”
A second later, Lamar’s deep voice filled the house. “Must be at the wrong place. I smell something good.”
Derry leaned around the corner to where he could see his guests. “I’ll have the food ready in just a minute.”
Mary stepped into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can help with?” She set the plate of pumpkin flan on the counter.
“Naw, I got it.” He busied himself, avoiding Mary’s smile.
She shifted into his view. “Is something wrong?”
Derry glanced down at her. “I went by to see my mom and stepfather on the way home today.”
“It didn’t go so well?” Mary placed a hand on his arm.
Lamar moved in next to the refrigerator.
Derry relayed the day’s events to them. At the end, Mary put her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t move.
Pulling away a few inches, Mary peered into his eyes. “Who are you blaming for your mother’s death?”
It must have been evident in his tone. The answer came without much thought. “If he hadn’t kicked me out, I would’ve been there. I could have stopped it, saved her.”
Mary turned to grab the salad. “You said this happened about two years ago?”
“Yeah, why?” He carried the bread and butter to the table.
“And you think you would have still been living at home at twenty-one?”
“Maybe.”
Mary spun toward him with an inquisitive glance.
“Okay, I guess not.”
“You hated it there. You would’ve been gone the day after you turned eighteen.” She set the bowl down on the table. “Look, bad things happen. You can’t blame yourself, your stepfather, or your mother. You want to blame someone? Blame the kids who broke in. Blame the part of town they lived in. Blame their own families for the way they raised them. Blame everyone for the type of world we live in. Or, better yet, blame no one.”
“It’s somebody’s fault. I should have—”
“Then blame me for giving you a place to live.” Her penetrating gaze held him in place.
“You? Why you? You helped me.”
“I took you away from that part of town, away from your home. Blame me or God. We’re as much at fault as anyone else.”
He was thinking just like his stepfather, always wanting to blame someone for every bad thing that happened. But Mary was right.
“Neither you nor your stepfather are at fault for your mother’s death.”
But his mother was dead, murdered by a gang of kids. Why? Because his stepdad turned them into the police. He did what was right, and it cost him everything.
Derry dropped into one of the chairs around the table.
Small as Mary was, she was a powerful woman. Her gaze never wavered as it bored deep into his heart. He tried to look away, but couldn’t.
“Hey, you two. Are we done?” Lamar opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Coke. “I’m about to pass out from hunger.”
“There you go again. Thinking with your stomach.” Mary moved back to the kitchen to get the salad dressing.
Derry rose to his feet and retrieved the main dish out of the oven.
“That looks good,” Lamar said, genuinely pleased.
“Yep, spent hours over the stove—”
“Learning how to turn it on,” Lamar cut in.
Derry smiled. He always enjoyed the banter between him and Lamar.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I got a promotion, of sorts.”
“What does that mean?”
Derry told them about his new assignment as they ate. By the end of the meal, the conversation had worked its way around to the projects he had left to do on the house.
Lamar surveyed the room. “I thought you said you were going to fix this place up.”
“Hey, I’ve done a lot. Replaced the wiring and the plumbing and put in a new heating system. And you have to admit that the doors are looking pretty good. But it takes time and money.”
“And know-how,” Lamar quipped.
“Honey, you be nice to him or else. He was nice enough to invite us over, and you’re giving him nothing but trouble.”
Derry came back with, “I have know-how. His name is Kevin, and he lives next door. After talking with him, I’ve decided that since I’ve got the inside of the house livable, I should turn the garage into a two-room guesthouse. Rent it out and help recover some of my costs.”
“I’ve seen that garage, as you call it.” Lamar chuckled as he shoved the last bite of food into his mouth. “Nothing’s wrong with it that five gallons of gas and a match couldn’t fix.”
Chapter 10
“Ohhh.” Sara covered her face with her pillow. The stupid alarm was going off again. Had it been five times or six? She hit snooze once more.
Today was the day. If the test at Jasper’s was successful, she would be on her way to a new life. If the test failed, this might be her last day to live.
She forced her eyes open part way. It had been a long night. Even though the shades were down and she had added a blanket over them, too much sunlight made its way around the edges. She lay there for another fifteen minutes before swinging her feet out of bed and onto the floor. With eyes half closed, she made her way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Maybe it would wake her up.
She turned on the water, and waited the two minutes it took to warm up. Reaching under the sink, she grabbed a new bottle of shampoo. Climbing into the shower, she let the hot water run over her face. It wasn’t helping. Sleep still wanted to overtake her.
Opening the shampoo, she poured some into her hand. It leaked out between her fingers. Something was wrong. Raising her hand to her nose, she took a sniff. It smelled like soap, not shampoo. Fully opening her eyes, she read the label on the bottle. It was bath and tile cleaner. It would do a number on her hair. How’d she end up with it?
Sara tried to remember. She’d reached under the left side of the sink, hadn’t she?
Stepping out, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself. She knelt in front of the bathroom sink and opened the cabinet.
Everything looked the same, but the household cleaners and bath soaps were switched. She forgot about her shower. After dressing, she went through the rest of her apartment, checking every cabinet and drawer. Everything was close to where it should be, and in most cases so close she would have never noticed. Someone had been in her apartment.
That jerk! Levy sent someone to go through my stuff.
A dirty, slimy feeling came over her. A dark feeling from her past. She sat down in her living room chair. Pulling her legs up tight to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. The ugly nightmare tried to work its way in. She wasn’t safe. They could come in anytime they wanted.
No, not again. Not ever again.
She would win this time.
What was Levy after? Did he know about her plan to escape?
Sara reached for the pack that held her laptop and checked for the birth certificate, new driver’s license, and her two new credit cards. Still there. Good. She’d had her pack with her while her apartment was being searched. She was safe for now.
But she couldn’t let Levy find out about her new identity. She was so close. All she needed was a new passport. She could get out of the country, out of his reach
.
If they were able to go through her apartment, would they also be checking her mail? Maybe. She couldn’t take the chance. She couldn’t have her passport sent here. She needed a safe place. A post office box. But where? Levy had connections all over town. Maybe up in the mountains or out on the plains.
It was a dangerous game to play, but it was the only way to break free of Levy’s clutches.
Focus. I’ve got to focus.
The memory of Steve was all too clear. If only he hadn’t been so stupid.
Sara thought about the nearby towns outside of the metro area. Vail was the first to come to mind. Nice place, but Levy was sure to have friends there.
Estes Park was a tourist town, not the type of place Levy would go. It would be a perfect place to go without attracting a lot of attention. She’d have her passport sent there.
***
As Derry entered the tall building in downtown Denver, he checked his tie. This was his first solo account, and he didn’t want to blow it. He took the elevator up to the eighth floor.
The door opened. He stepped out and faced three sets of double doors leading off the large room in three different directions, all with the same sign: Innovations Through Software Solutions.
He made a guess and headed for the center door. It opened up to a middle-aged woman sitting behind a low counter. “May I help you?”
“I’m Derry Conway. I’m here from L&P Accountants International. We’ve been hired to audit your books.”
“One moment, please.” She picked up her phone and made a call.
Replacing the receiver, she rose to her feet—“This way”—and led him past several cubicles to a corner office. After a short greeting, the manager set up Derry with a desk in the accounting group. He went right to work. The job was scheduled to take three weeks. He hoped to complete it in two.
At 4:30, the accounting area emptied out. Looking around, he wondered if he should leave, too, but decided to stay a while longer.
“Hard worker, I see.” The manager stood in the entryway to Derry’s temporary office, a briefcase in one hand.
“Just trying to make a good first impression.”
The comment fell flat.
“We start early in my department. We like to get out before the rush hour hits.”
“Sounds fine to me. I’ll be here earlier tomorrow.”
“I’m here at six.” The man’s tone was emotionless.
“Sir, would it be a problem if I stayed after hours to work on your account?”
“Housekeeping’s here ‘til eight each night. Will that work for you?”
“Yes, sir. That would be great.”
“Are you planning to leave the building and reenter at any time during the evening?” This man was hard to read. No expressions.
“Just to get a quick bite to eat, maybe.”
The manager reached into his pocket, retrieved a business card, and wrote on the back. “Here’s the code to get back in through the front entrance.”
Taking it, Derry thanked him.
“There’s a Greek restaurant on the first floor. The food’s not that good, but it’s never crowded. You can get in and out in a reasonable amount of time.”
“Greek food?”
“Yeah, it’s not too bad, and it’s cheap.”
Chapter 11
Walking into a small fast-food restaurant, Sara wondered if Levy had one of his men following her today. If he did, he was doing a better job than Ryan did.
She needed to be more observant on her future trips, but today it didn’t matter. Today she was doing exactly what she was supposed to do.
Running her hand through her hair brought the morning horrors back to mind. She never finished her shower.
“May I help you?” The boy behind the counter woke her from her daze.
“Yes, I’ll take a fish sandwich and a small Pepsi.”
“Would you like a value meal? It’s the same price.” He had a nice smile, for a kid.
“Sure.” Sara was only two blocks from Jasper’s, but she wanted more business on the card before she took it there. This was the seventh store today, and would probably fill the card’s memory. Another part of the test—what would happen if the card’s memory was full?
Also, stopping here saved her from having to eat Jasper’s food. Anything to bug him was a plus.
The kid swiped the card twice as expected, then set it aside as he filled her drink. As he worked, he kept glancing up at her, smiling. On any other day, Sara would have returned his quick glimpses with a scowl. Today, she let him look. She even gave him a slight smile back.
Whatever, as long as he doesn’t question the card.
“Would you like a copy of your receipt?” He ripped one copy off the printer.
“No, that’s fine.” So far, everything worked.
After downing the sandwich, fries, and Pepsi, she headed over to Jasper’s.
“What are you doing here now?” He scowled as Sara entered.
“I came to eat some of your fine food, of course. Why did you think I was here?” Giving him a big fake smile, she paraded right past him.
He reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. “I have customers. Why can’t you come earlier when no one is here?” Jasper’s displeasure only pleased her more.
Twisting her arm free, she glared at him. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”
He took a step back, hesitating. “Ah, sor—” He leaned in toward Sarah but didn’t touch her. “Why can’t you come back around closing time, when no one will see you?”
Most days she would have played the game longer, but she was tired, and wanted to complete the test without any more problems. “We told you this would be the setup. We’d be coming in like any of your other customers. That means during meal times, not at closing. We need this to look as normal as can be.” Taking a quick look around, she added, “Besides, having more than one or two customers in here at your peak time can only help your business, and it looks like you need all the help you can get.” She twisted back around and headed into the seating area.
Only one table was filled with customers. Sara took a seat away from them.
Jasper followed her. He huffed as he handed her a menu. Opening it, Sara made a comment about the menu looking almost new, as if no one had ever used it.
He walked away. Sara examined the options, deciding what she would order and not eat. How about one of the house specialties?
***
His stomach rumbled. Derry checked the time on his computer. Five minutes past six. He grabbed the card with the reentry code on it and headed for the elevator.
Outside the building, the aromas from local eateries filled the air. The Greek restaurant was in the corner of the building. Approaching the door, he noticed the rich aroma wasn’t emanating from this restaurant, and he recalled the manager’s tepid praise. How bad could the food be?
The place was almost empty. This doesn’t look good.
“Come in, come in. Are you looking for some good Greek food?” The man looked to be about forty. He carried a plate of food as he walked out of the kitchen.
“Sure, I guess.”
“Have a seat anywhere.” The man headed toward one of the tables.
The restaurant was small, and Derry had a choice of sitting near an older couple or near a young woman who just received the plate of food. The choice was easy. He took the seat facing the young woman’s table.
Waiting for a menu, Derry studied what he could see of her. Dark brown messy hair that needed washing. Young slender smooth hands. Overall very petite. Her head rested on her left hand as she peered down at the food, but she looked up at him once, very briefly, revealing a beautiful face marred by a scowl.
Wait a minute. She r
eminded him of someone.
Tami! Is this the woman I saw last week, the one that triggered all those nightmares?
He couldn’t look away now. Maybe she’d look up again, if only to allow him to steal another glance.
“Here you are.” The man set a menu in front of Derry. “Sorry it took so long.” He wheeled around and disappeared from view.
Looking down at the menu, Derry also stole longer glances at the woman. She wasn’t eating her food. She just pushed it around on the plate with her fork.
She looked up at Derry again, then quickly back down. Her milk chocolate-brown eyes were empty, not really seeing the world around her. She appeared to be part Latino. No, not Latino, something else. Italian, maybe? Spanish? There was something about her that intrigued him.
“Hello, I’m Jasper Damaskinos, but everyone just calls me Jasper. Are you ready to order, sir?”
Jumping at the voice, Derry tried to cover his embarrassment. “You’re the owner?”
“Yes, the restaurant is named after me. I’ve owned this place for seven years.” Jasper had a strong accent and a proud smile. “So, what would you like?”
Derry peered down at his menu then back up at the man. “I need another minute.”
Jasper shifted his attention to the woman then back to Derry. He must have caught him staring at her. Jasper nodded then went to attend other customers.
Focusing on the menu, Derry’s mind kept picturing the girl’s face.
“I’m working way too hard,” he muttered. He finally got his mind away from her and onto the bill of fare. As he did, he realized he didn’t recognize any of the dishes. They were all in Greek.
Great.
His attention returned to the girl. She was still pushing her food around on her plate. It looked good, even if she wasn’t eating it.
Jasper came by again. “Are you ready to order?”
Too embarrassed to tell the owner of a Greek restaurant that he didn’t understand any of the dishes on the menu, Derry pointed to the woman’s table. “What’s the dish the young lady is eating?”
Fatal Transaction (Thriller & Suspense, Cyber Crime) Page 6