Secret Need (The Harper Sisters Book 2)

by Satin Russell

  She shuddered. “That’s exactly my point. Alex, we’ve been in over our heads since the beginning, and that was before they killed anybody.

  “I have to believe that Mason and this MDEA agent, Matt whoever, will be able to protect me. I need to tell him my story, and trust he’ll understand why I didn’t come in right away.”

  “That’s assuming you even get a chance to talk to him. What if they throw you in a holding cell and something happens before you have the opportunity to meet with him?”

  “Mason is there, he knows the situation. I know he’ll do everything he can to protect me. Besides, this is the biggest case the department is working on right now, I’ll be a priority.”

  Alex mulled her words over in his mind. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t fault her logic. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but my gut is telling me it would be a mistake to surrender right now.”

  “I realize turning myself in would affect you, too. It’ll be even harder now that they’re trying to pin Peter’s death on us, especially if the security footage shows you entering the building with me.” She paused, measuring her words. “I’d understand if you wanted to hang back until this is all cleared up.”

  Her words sliced him to the core. He stiffened. “What is it going to take for you to realize I’m in this until the end?” His hands lay fisted in his lap. “I’m not saying this because I’m worried about my name being dragged in the mud. Judging by that newscast, we’re long past that point. I’m. Not. Leaving. You. You should know this by now.”

  Her eyes softened before gripping the steering wheel a little more firmly. “I wish – I wish things could be different…” She shook her head in confusion. “How could I have missed all of this happening right under my nose?”

  “You’re not the only one,” Alex pointed out.

  An edge of doubt seeped into Liz’s voice where there had only been frustration. “Could Paul have seen something and not tell me? Maybe he was trying to protect me.”

  “Don’t you think we should ask him?”

  “You mean before we go to the police?”

  “I don’t see how waiting a few more hours to turn ourselves in could do any more harm, do you? It might be our only chance to get the unvarnished truth from him without our lawyers present.”

  “Fine. Let’s give it a shot.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Paul turned into the quiet neighborhood and pulled his car into the cracked driveway of a small ranch house. It had been another long, harrowing day at the police station. All he wanted to do was go inside and bury his head under a pillow.

  They had held him for hours, asking him the same questions over and over again. About the garage, the cars coming in, their customers, what his involvement was with the heroin they’d found, and if his nephew was a drug user. Even Mason had doubted some of the answers that he’d given.

  That had been bad, but it had been far worse once their inquiry turned to Liz. The MDEA agent had demanded to know what her role in the drug ring was. Paul’s heart broke, knowing her name was being dragged through the mud. He wondered if her reputation would ever be able to recover from an experience like this.

  He truly hoped so.

  Paul unlocked the door and let himself into the dark house. After fifty some-odd years, it was still hard to believe he was finally a homeowner. When his nephew had come to stay with him a few months ago, it had become readily apparent that his apartment was too small for two people. Providing Jimmy with a place to stay had been the best decision he’d made in a long time.

  With the sparse furniture, and the giant television taking over one wall, it was obviously a bachelor pad. But at least, with the shoes by the door and the coats in the closet, it was also starting to feel a little more like a home.

  He flipped on the hall light and took a moment to hang up his jacket before making his way to the bathroom. It was only after he emerged that he noticed a chair in the kitchen was lying on its back. Milk dripped across the table from where a half-eaten bowl of cereal was upended. He watched as it pooled on the cheap linoleum floor.

  Fear coursed through him, his hands damp with sweat. “Jimmy?”

  The only answer was the sound of the refrigerator turning on and humming into the quiet. Paul’s heart dropped at the implications. Quickly, he made his way to the back bedroom, telling himself not to jump to conclusions.

  His nephew’s room felt like a cave on the best of days. When he’d moved in a few months ago, he’d immediately installed black-out shades. Large glass and chrome desks covered two walls, dedicated to his computer equipment and monitors. Almost as an after-thought, a twin-sized bed was shoved into a corner. It was hard to tell if any violence had happened from the sheets tossed in disarray, since Paul knew the bed was hardly ever made.

  The first notes of “Welcome to the Jungle” pierced the silence. It was his custom ringtone for his nephew. Jimmy had programmed it into his phone as a joke. Paul fumbled the device out of his pocket.

  “Jimmy?”

  “No. But if you want to see him again, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

  Paul’s worst fear loomed before him, taking the shape of stark reality. “If you lay a hand on him…”

  “That,” the caller interrupted, “will be up to you.” Whoever was on the other end was using a voice modulator to mask their identity. The cold electronic tone further infused the exchange with sinister overtones.

  Panic grew in his chest. “Please, don’t hurt him. Just tell me what I need to do.”

  Paul grabbed a pen and wrote down the address given to him. Two minutes later, he was once again rushing out of the house. The slowly drying pool of milk was the only witness to his passing.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Liz wove through various neighborhoods and tried to stay away from the main streets. A route that would normally take twenty minutes took closer to an hour. Light had already begun to blossom on the horizon before they neared their destination. She pulled the car to the side of the road about a mile away. Neither of them talked as they made their way through the woods towards Paul’s place.

  Hidden in the trees, they monitored the house for a while. The air was dewy with fresh promise. A few birds were chirping in the branches above them, greeting the morning with optimism. Liz let her eyes wander over the small, postage stamp-sized front yard that she knew Jimmy mowed weekly. His car was in the driveway, but all the windows were dark.

  After another moment of quiet observation, she asked, “Now what?”

  Alex watched the area for another heartbeat before he answered. “Well, I don’t see anybody.” They both continued to crouch in the shadow of the trees, straining their ears for anything suspicious.

  She couldn’t see or hear anything unusual, but Liz had a bad feeling. “I don’t like this, Alex. It feels too risky.”

  He turned to her, his eyes intense. “We need answers, right? This is how we can get some.”

  She shook her head. “But it’s not just the cops I’m worried about. I mean, in the list of worst case scenarios, they’re actually preferable. At least let me go in there with you.”

  Alex let out a sigh of exasperation that put her hackles up. “We went over this. I’m just going to see if he’s there and let him know we want to talk. After that, if the situation is safe, you guys can meet.”

  The plan sounded so simple. She hoped it could be that easy. “Okay, fine. We’ll do it your way.”

  Liz tried to ignore the little smile of victory that crossed over Alex’s face. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. This will work.” His expression got more serious. “Just promise me you’ll stay here and out of sight until I get back, okay? Don’t give me a heart attack like last time.”

  She rolled her eyes, but agreed.

  Liz kept Alex in sight as he picked his way around the perimeter of the backyard. It took him ten minutes before she lost sight of him. Now the real waiting began.

  She�
�d just settled into a more comfortable position, when a long, high-pitched wail filled the air. Her pulse hammered in her throat as she jumped to her feet. Oh, no…

  From her vantage point, she could see the red and blue lights of multiple cop cars reflecting in the windows around her. They had been so careful! How had they not noticed the place was being watched?

  Needing to see what happened, Liz crept through the trees in the opposite direction Alex had taken, hoping no one would see her passing.

  What she saw had her heart dropping to her stomach.

  Alex was bent over the hood of a police cruiser, his hands cuffed behind him. She wondered if he was experiencing flashbacks from a few nights before. A long-faced, lanky man who was taller than Alex walked up, wearing a slightly rumpled suit and a five o’clock shadow. He pulled Alex upright and exchanged a few words before helping him into the backseat.

  That must be the agent she’d heard so much about, Matt Hagen. She hoped he was as interested in finding the truth as he was in climbing the ladder over at the MDEA. Otherwise, they were screwed.

  Liz struggled to fight off the voice screaming for her to step out of the woods and turn herself in with Alex. All she wanted to do was stop this entire maddening situation.

  But she couldn’t do it. Liz had promised him that she’d follow through with their plan before going to the police. Not only that, but with Alex taken in for questioning, she knew their version of the story would be relayed. She hoped he’d have a chance to tell it before someone tried to stop him.

  She had to stay out of the cop’s reach, protecting their interests until this whole thing could be cleared up.

  Finally, the three squad cars departed. Their sirens had been silenced but their lights continued to flash. Liz was surprised they hadn’t knocked on Paul’s door, or dragged him in for questioning. Then she knew, Paul wasn’t even there. It had been an elaborate setup all along.

  Liz debated going in to check right then, but decided it would be more prudent for her to wait until things had settled down. She doubted anybody else was watching the house, but it was better to be safe.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Liz muttered a silent curse as her pants snagged on the top of the fence. Why did these things always look so much easier in the movies? She grunted as she landed in a flower bed below.

  She crouched in the shadow of the fence, waiting to see if anybody had heard her. It had been hours before she’d wound up the courage to approach the house. Surveillance must have gotten what they’d come for, because as far as she could tell, they hadn’t come back. Her joints were too stiff to wait any longer. She had to move.

  Her heart pounded as she approached the back door and dug the spare key out from under a rock. She slipped into the laundry room and promptly stumbled over a basket left in front of the dryer.

  Oh yeah, you’re real sneaky, Liz. Frozen in fear, she stood and counted her breaths, straining to hear any noise inside the house. All was quiet, so she made her way towards the hall.

  “Paul? Jimmy?”

  Nothing stirred. Would they have brought Paul back to the station? That seemed like an excessively long time to question somebody. Had he been arrested, after all?

  Liz strode into the kitchen, feeling more confident now that she was in the house. Her new-found hope was dashed when she spotted the mess at the table. Warning bells rang in her mind. Whatever had happened didn’t look voluntary.

  Rushing down the hallway, she checked each room as she went. Other than a couple piles of laundry and some unmade beds, nothing seemed out of place.

  Stymied by the lack of evidence, Liz made her way back to the dried puddle of milk at the kitchen table. A pad of paper sat near the overturned bowl. She picked up the pencil lying beside it and started to trace over the top page. Maybe those spy movies weren’t complete fiction, after all.

  She recognized the address as it slowly began to emerge. The problem was it was clear across town. It didn’t seem like a very good idea to go back to the sedan they had parked a few blocks away, considering cops were probably searching for it from the moment Alex had been taken.

  But Jimmy’s car was sitting out in the driveway. Going back to his room, she searched the top of his dresser and bedside table with no luck. She was just about to give up when she spotted the set of keys hanging from a hook by the door.

  Oh, thank goodness! The thought of stealing yet another car was unbearable, but so was walking clear across town. After a quick glance to make sure no one was visible, Liz let herself out of the house. The rattrap that Jimmy called a car had never looked so good.

  It wasn’t until she was a block away from the address that Liz began to doubt herself. Should she try to contact the police? After all, the people hunting her had already proven to be dangerous and willing to kill. She knew Josh certainly was, anyway.

  Making her way along the sidewalk, she debated her next move. As she drew nearer, a figure stole out of the back door of the house. Not Jonesy. This guy was stocky and shorter. It was too dark to make out the person’s features, but they were obviously eager to get away from the premises. Without thinking, Liz chased after him.

  “Hey!” She ran across the yard in the direction the shadow was headed before finally coming to her senses. What on earth was she doing? Just this morning she’d learned Peter had been murdered. What exactly did she expect to have happen if she caught them?

  She stood with her hands on her hips and gulped down large breaths of air and logic. Shaking her head, she turned back towards the house. There had to be a reason why the person was fleeing.

  The back door was open and swinging, tapping the wall in the light breeze. She quashed the fear it raised in her throat. How could something so innocuous sound so sinister?

  Other than the door, the house was still. The windows were dark and full of secrets. If she hadn’t seen someone leaving, it would have been easy to see the place as deserted.

  Liz poked her head in before stepping through the doorway. Light filtered in from the hall. She was lucky there was power, since the house itself appeared to be vacant. She found herself in the middle of an outdated kitchen with avocado green cabinets that would have been amusing if things had been different. Instead, she barely managed a wince before heading deeper into the house.

  In the hallway she noticed large, brown rings that bore evidence of water damage on the plaster ceiling and walls. She entered the dim living room and instinctively searched for a switch. A ceiling fan illuminated the room. She stifled a scream as she crossed the threshold and took in the scene before her.

  Paul sat tied to a chair in the middle of the room. There was blood and sweat caking the front of his shirt. His head lolled so far back that it looked like his neck was broken. Drool dripped down his chin.

  She raced to his side and shook him, “Paul? Paul!” He didn’t respond. His eyes were swollen shut and turning a dark purple. He’d been beaten badly. Frantically, she lifted his eyelids, but his eyes had rolled to the back of his head.

  She pressed her fingers to his neck, relieved when she found a faint, thready pulse. He coughed. Tears rushed down Liz’s face as she helped to lift his head. “Paul? Paul, can you hear me?”

  Liz watched as he forced his eyelids open, barely a slit, but she could see his urgency as he focused on her face. “They took Jimmy. Find him, Liz,” he begged. “He doesn’t have anybody else.”

  Paul struggled, his neck moving like a loose ball bearing. He rolled his head back towards her, trying to maintain focus. Wonder and self-loathing infused his voice. “Oh God, Liz. The rush! N-no wonder she’s hooked.” The last sentence trailed off into barely intelligible mumbling.

  Liz leaned forward. “Hooked? Who? Who is hooked, Paul?”

  Paul’s eyes drifted off to a spot just beyond her shoulder. “My sister. She owed them so much money. I tried to help her. I did. They threatened to kill her if I didn’t work for them.” His face scrunched up with regret and guilt.

>   Her stomach dropped at the revelation. “You were hiding the heroin?” No, there had to be some misunderstanding.

  “Secret compartments in s-s-specified vehicles.” Paul began to sob. “I let them know when they could come in and stash the supply.” A pained look crossed his face before the drug once again overwhelmed him.

  Liz grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a hard shake. “Come on, Paul. Don’t pass out on me again. You gotta keep talking.”

  His eyelids fluttered, he began to mutter. “Be careful, Eliza. It’s not who you’d expect. They’re after you.”

  “What do you mean ‘they’? Who did this to you?” Paul’s whole body twitched violently and he began gagging. Liz realized with horror that he was choking on his own tongue.

  “Paul!” She tried to lift his head, but the terrible sounds continued. And then, just as suddenly, an ominous silence filled the room.

  Reaching over his shoulder, she gave his back a hard pound. “Dammit, you are not dying on me!”

  Registering what needed to be done, she blanched at the slimy process and tried not to hurt him any further. Liz gingerly pried his mouth open and pulled his tongue forward. “Ew, ew, ew…shit, Paul. This had better work!” With his air passage open, Liz moved behind him and tried to give him a modified version of the Heimlich maneuver, pressing on his chest instead of his sternum.

  Nothing. The utter lack of response was infinitely worse than when he’d been choking. Somehow, she needed to get him breathing again! CPR was out of the question until she could get him untied from the chair.

  Distraught, she tugged on the knots fastening him to the chair, but they were too tight. What to use? What to use? Liz made a mad dash to the kitchen, wrenching every drawer open. Seriously? Couldn’t there be a knife? Scissors? Anything?

  Stymied by her lack of resources, Liz rushed back into the living room. Paul’s face was beginning to turn a distressing shade of blue, his stillness a dark omen. Desperate, she pushed him more forcefully than she intended. The chair fell backwards to the floor with a crash.