by Debra Webb
The Colby family had fought evil and triumphed once more.
The telephone rang and Victoria paused at the door.
“We’re going to be late,” Lucas suggested, knowing his wife couldn’t resist answering the call.
“It could be Jim,” she allowed by way of an excuse, even though Jim would call her cell phone if he needed to reach her.
“That’s not entirely impossible,” Lucas offered with a knowing smile.
Victoria laughed as she made her way to where the phone sat on the side table next to the door. She answered, expecting to hear Simon’s or Ian’s voice. Either one could be calling to be the first to wish her a good Christmas morning.
“Victoria,” the unfamiliar voice said, “this is Clive Mathias. I apologize for calling you so early on this auspicious day, but I have an urgent matter to discuss that involves both of us.”
A frown spread its way across Victoria’s brow as the identity of the caller nudged its way through her distraction. “Good morning, Clive. How can I help you?” She shrugged in question at her husband who looked equally confounded.
“I’ve become aware that an investigator of yours is hindering a homicide investigation.”
Now Victoria was really confused. “I’m afraid you have me at a loss.” Of course, she was aware that the investigation of which he spoke was no doubt the Randolph case. What she could not fathom was why Clive Mathias, the head of Chicago’s Crime Commission, would feel compelled to call and discuss the investigation.
“You’re aware,” Mathias went on, “that your investigator, Merrilee Walters, is looking into the Randolph homicide.”
“Well aware,” Victoria returned. “Is there a problem with how the investigation is being handled? It was my impression that Ms. Walters intends to cooperate with Detective Whitehall in the event she learns anything of significance to the case.”
“The problem appears to be your investigator’s inability to maintain any manner of control over her actions and their repercussions. I’m afraid she’s making us both look rather bad.”
The suggestion riled Victoria. “Again, I have no idea what you mean, Clive.” To Victoria’s knowledge, Merri hadn’t called in last night or this morning, but she was well within her twenty-four-hour period of being incommunicado. There was absolutely no reason to be concerned yet.
“Ms. Walters has taken a person of interest out of our jurisdiction where he continues to be out of reach. It’s my understanding that after visiting the family of the deceased there was some disruption of the peace in a nearby neighborhood.”
This was all news to Victoria. “I can assure you, Clive, that I will look into the situation. If Ms. Walters has overstepped the bounds of her position as an investigator on my staff, appropriate measures will be taken.” Victoria knew without question that the suggestion was ludicrous.
“Mr. Thomas should be returned to this jurisdiction immediately, Victoria. He should not be causing distress for the family of a murder victim. I’m certain you understand how difficult things could become if this gets out of hand.”
Victoria assured the man that she would attend to the matter straight away. When she had replaced the handset in the charger stand, she turned to her husband. “Something’s happened with Merri.”
Lucas nodded. “Then you need to deal with the issue.”
As they drove to her son’s house, Victoria discussed the strange communication with Ian and Simon via a three-way call. Neither of her seconds-in-command had heard from Merri since the afternoon before.
“I’ll keep trying to get through to Merri’s cell,” Simon suggested. “If I don’t connect with her in the next two hours, I will personally look into the situation in Blue Island.”
As much as Victoria hated to disrupt Simon’s holiday, verifying Merri’s well-being was essential.
“My question,” Ian chimed in, “is what does Mathias have to do with this?”
Victoria agreed wholeheartedly. Clive Mathias rarely got involved with day-to-day operations. Particularly with a fairly low-level investigation—not that any murder was actually low-level. But Kevin Randolph was no one important to Chicago politics or society. Mathias rarely delved into anything less than a “high-profile” case. He had underlings for the “regular” work.
“I would like to know the answer to that one myself, Ian.” Victoria was thankful Ian didn’t proclaim this instance as a perfect example of Merri’s inability to handle an investigation alone.
“We’ll take care of this, Victoria,” Simon urged. “Enjoy your holiday with the family. If there’s anything you need to know, we’ll pass it along.”
For more than two decades, Victoria had maintained the helm at the Colby Agency. Now, she was more than happy to have her two most trusted associates take care of business for her.
She deserved this time with her family.
Merri Walters knew what she was doing. If she needed backup, Ian and Simon would see that she got exactly that. Clive Mathis had no reason to worry.
Merri wouldn’t let the Colby Agency or Chicago PD down.
Chapter Ten
Chicago, 9:00 a.m.
“I don’t care what you have to do,” Clive Mathias told his detective, “you get this situation under control.”
The silence that emanated from the other end of the line warned Clive that Detective Whitehall was out of his league.
Finally the other man said, “Sir, I’m doing my best but this situation is totally out of control. I can’t—”
“Just take care of it,” Clive almost shouted. “It’s Christmas, for God’s sake, man. You know what to do. Just do it.”
Clive disconnected. He had nothing more to say. Whitehall would regain control or else.
This was totally unacceptable. No one as pointless as Kevin Randolph, much less his inept friend, was going to ruin everything for Clive.
He slid his phone back into the pocket of his suit jacket and smiled at his wife as she entered the foyer. They were due at church in fifteen minutes. His children were presenting a short Christmas production.
Murder wasn’t going to get in the way of Clive’s enjoyment.
Chapter Eleven
Dwight D. Eisenhower High School
Blue Island, 9:30 a.m.
The Christmas tree in the corner next to the trophy display case mocked Merri. It was Christmas and she had facilitated a break-in at a high school.
How unorthodox was that?
Her parents would be mortified.
Like many of the actions she had taken in the name of getting the job done, they didn’t have to know. They were far better off not knowing. Or maybe she was the one who was better off.
The key had gotten them into the building. Fortunately the trophy display case was not locked. All they had to do now was determine how Kick had hidden a clue in or around the trophy.
As his sister had explained, the trophy, along with newspaper clippings regarding his success and a recent photo, held a position of prominence in the display case. No wonder Kick was so proud. Everyone who visited the school’s office would see that Mr. Invisible was no longer invisible in the least.
In fact, in some ways he had been too visible.
Brandon touched her on the shoulder. As usual, heat simmered in her belly. Holding her breath, she turned to him.
“There’s nothing on the bottom.” Brandon tapped the trophy’s marble base, then turned it upright. “I’ll see if it’s possible to take it apart.”
Merri had already checked the entire shelf, as well as the one above it, and the newspaper clippings and photo. Nothing had been written, underlined or circled. If Kick had been trying to send them a message, it wasn’t in the memorabilia related to the trophy.
Merri nodded her agreement. Like Brandon, she was certain the clues led to this collection. It was only a matter of determining what it meant.
If Kick had been trying to guide them to another location, they hadn’t understood.
; Brandon sat down on the tiled floor with the trophy. Merri eased down into a cross-legged position next to him. The only place the trophy appeared to give was where it was screwed to the base. Her pulse began that rapid rat-a-tat-tat as Brandon removed the base.
As soon as the marble square was pulled away from the faux metal trophy, a mini storage device, a jump drive, fell to the tiled floor.
Brandon waited until Merri was looking at him and smiled. His lips formed the word, “violà.”
Could this really be the evidence that had cost Kick his life?
“I should call Simon,” Merri said.
“Let’s see what’s on it first,” Brandon suggested.
Wouldn’t hurt. Her cell phone was dead anyway. The battery had given out sometime during the night, and her stuff was at the motel. No doubt there were working phones in the school, but Brandon was right. The call could be made after they had verified the contents of the storage device.
Brandon handed her the jump drive, then carefully replaced the base on the trophy. He got to his feet and returned the trophy to its place in the display case.
Merri levered herself upward with his help. “Where can we look at this?” A high school would likely have computers.
“Come on.”
She liked that he held on to her hand as they hurried down the dimly lit hall. With few windows in the long corridor, the route was very nearly dark. They didn’t dare turn on any lights for fear that someone would notice they were inside. Merri doubted that anyone else was on the premises, but neither she nor Brandon could be certain. Why take the risk?
He led her to the math department and then into the computer lab. Signs of the holiday dotted the room. A wreath on the bulletin board and relevant items in the window. Brandon pulled an extra chair in front of the monitor he’d chosen.
While he booted up the computer, Merri took the opportunity to study his profile. She wondered if there was someone special in his life. A woman who would question where he was.
It shouldn’t have bothered her that a significant other was a possibility, but it did. Somehow she liked it that he was all alone except for her. That he needed her. And she needed him.
Pathetic, Merri.
Just because she felt alone didn’t mean everyone else had to.
Not everyone else, she acknowledged. Him. Brandon. She liked being his saving grace.
She liked being close to him.
Maybe because he understood what it was like to be different. None of the men in her life before had understood that. Not really. Lord knew, her fiancé hadn’t cared, much less understood. She and her mentor, Steven Barlow, had attempted a relationship of sorts. But he was so busy playing protector that she couldn’t deal with his smothering ways.
Mason Conrad didn’t really count. He’d been a distraction for Merri. A dangerous distraction. He’d turned state’s evidence and gotten the charges against him dropped. He still called her from time to time, but she wasn’t going down that road.
He was into the protector gig, too. He wanted her safe. She reminded him of his sister. He’d said that to her. Merri wanted to be treated like an equal. Respected. Was that too much to ask for?
She shook off the thoughts. “What?” Brandon had spoken, but he hadn’t been looking at her.
He faced her. “Sorry.” He gestured to the computer screen. “Here we go.”
A box opened on the screen. Brandon selected the only icon contained inside it. A larger box expanded on the screen and a video flickered into view.
Kevin Randolph’s image cleared. “What you’re about to see,” he said, “is the statement of a man who is now dead. I copied the video to this storage device and hid it in a place only my best friend and roommate could possibly find.”
Merri glanced at Brandon’s profile. The hard, pained lines made her gut clench. This was more than a little difficult for him. He and Kick had been close despite their screaming matches over the rent.
Another image appeared, then cleared. This one an older man. He identified himself as a thug whose name Merri recognized from the obituaries a couple of weeks back.
She and Brandon sat, stunned, while the older gentleman cited all the infractions of those connected to Chicago’s prestigious Crime Commission—including the leader, Clive Mathias. He listed case by case, infraction by infraction before closing.
When the man had completed his dissertation, Kick faded back into view.
“I’ve been a pain in the ass,” Kick said. “But do this one thing for me, buddy. Make sure Clive Mathias doesn’t get away with keeping the funds rolling to his machine with continued Mob connections.”
Randolph paused a moment, then added, “Tell my family I love them. That I don’t regret what I chose to do.”
The screen went to black.
Brandon removed the storage device from the hard drive and tucked it into his pocket. “What now?”
Merri blinked back the tears that had brimmed in her eyes. She didn’t know Kevin Randolph, but he’d worked hard to prove he was as good as anyone else. He had a family. And now he was dead.
He deserved justice. It wouldn’t bring him back, but it would be a big step toward finishing what he’d started. Mathias was not going to get away with this any longer.
“We call Simon.” Merri pushed to her feet. “He’ll see that this evidence gets into the hands of the proper authorities. Considering this—” she gestured to the storage device “—I’m certain we’ll have no trouble proving you had nothing to do with his death.”
“We can use the phone in the office.” Brandon was out of his seat before he’d completed the statement.
They ran to the office.
This couldn’t wait.
The men tracking them could have gone to Kick’s sister’s house by now and figured out where they were. Merri needed Simon on this.
This part she and Brandon couldn’t do alone.
“Damn it!”
The office was locked.
“Try the key,” Merri urged.
The key that had allowed them access to the building wouldn’t open the door to the office.
“There has to be another phone.”
Brandon glanced around the corridor, then shifted his attention to her. “The cafeteria and library will be locked, as well.”
Each would likely have an individual key.
“We’ll have to drive to a pay phone.” Merri didn’t like the idea of allowing one more minute to pass without calling Simon but they had little choice.
“Wait.” Brandon crossed the corridor, picked up a random chair and rushed toward the office.
Merri’s jaw sagged when she realized what he planned to do. He slammed the wood chair into the glass wall of the office. It took a few tries, but the glass finally cracked, forming hundreds of veins before caving down onto itself in a pile on the floor. He tossed the damaged chair aside and grabbed her hand before treading cautiously across the broken safety glass.
“The alarm is going off,” he told her. “Make the call before the police arrive.”
Explaining to the authorities would steal precious time. The call had to be made before there were any interruptions.
Merri grabbed the handset from the cradle of the phone on the counter and began entering the numbers for Simon’s cell phone. He wouldn’t be caught without it wherever he was on this holiday.
She held her breath and counted to ten slowly, time enough for Simon to answer since she couldn’t hear the rings.
Brandon’s hand was suddenly on her shoulder. She glanced at him. “Put the phone down.”
What the hell was he talking about? He nodded toward the door behind her. Merri turned around.
Two police officers stood in the middle of the broken glass, weapons drawn. “Hands up,” one of them said.
Merri slowly placed the handset back in the cradle and did as the officer had asked.
Her heart thumped high in her chest. “Call Simon Ruhl at the Colby Agency,” s
he demanded. “It’s imperative that he come as quickly as possible.”
“The chief gave orders that the two of you were to come with us,” the second of the two officers commanded. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but we’re to take you to Larry Stover’s house.”
Merri’s attention flew to Brandon. What was going on here? Bethany had helped them.
“What’s happened?” he demanded, fury and fear tightening his jaw.
“Bethany Stover’s missing.” The second officer’s eyes narrowed. “And the two of you have her vehicle.”
Merri’s gaze met Brandon’s once more.
“They’ve got her,” he said, pain replacing the fury and fear.
Merri could think of nothing to say to reassure him.
Bethany Stover would end up as dead as her brother unless the criminals got what they wanted.
The evidence that would clear Brandon…that would ensure justice.
Chapter Twelve
Chicago, Home of Jim Colby, 10:30 a.m.
Jamie, Victoria’s granddaughter, had opened the last of her Christmas presents and the family was enjoying spiced cider when the doorbell rang.
Victoria’s gaze sought and found Lucas’s. This would not be good news.
“I’ll get it.” Jim was up and moving toward the front door before Victoria could voice her worries.
She prayed nothing had happened to Merri.
Victoria attempted to hold a smile in place for her sweet grandchild. It didn’t help that Tasha kept sending concerned looks Victoria’s way. Lucas’s stoic profile was equally troubling.
No one had been more certain than Victoria that Merri was fully capable of being a Colby Agency investigator and pursuing a case alone.
What if she had been wrong?
“Victoria.”
She turned at the sound of her son’s voice.
“Would you and Lucas come into the kitchen for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Tasha busied her daughter with installing her new digital game player while Victoria and Lucas silently followed Jim to the kitchen.