Relatively Risky

by Pauline Baird Jones

  For some reason, this focused her thoughts. Her head felt clearer than it had felt since she rode into Alex’s car jacking.

  The photo. Something about it had bothered her at the time—had it been just last night? With a sort of awful clarity—admittedly culled from watching television—she realized that it might be the kind of photo someone gave a hit man. Had he been the one hired to kill her parents? Had he dug through old photos, or weird trophies, for the photo, so he could pretend he’d loved Nell’s mom? Was she supposed to believe that he’d have been stupid or reckless enough to have an affair with a wise guy’s wife? Or that her grandmother had an affair with him? Forever no. Did. Not. Believe. Him.

  She gave him a surreptitious look out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look happy. This helped ease some of her unhappy, though not all of it, since he still had the gun. There were a lot of stop lights between here and home—at least she assumed there were, since she wasn’t sure where home was from here. How fast could she get out—

  “Do up your seat belt.” He gave her a bland look. “Wouldn’t like you to get hurt if someone rear ends us at the next yellow light.”

  Okay, he wasn’t stupid, just because he looked and sounded stupid. She pulled the belt across her chest and snapped it in place. She noticed he hadn’t done his up. Apparently he wasn’t worried about getting hurt. Despite having seen her driving. Her escape thoughts quit circling. Landed even. Yeah, it was time for a crash. It would probably happen whether she planned it or not.

  Light changed. This time she punched it. The force of it slammed her against the seat back. She may have half closed her eyes. She’d never felt the need for speed. And this was more speed than she’d ever wanted or needed.

  Curly squealed in terror.

  Nell peeked. Yelled. She spun the wheel.

  Managed to swerve around a car.

  Into oncoming traffic. She almost swerved back.

  But the sounds of Bald Curly’s pig-like squeals were kind of music to her ears.

  And it wasn’t as easy to swerve back as it looked in the movies. Not pelting along a seriously rutted road.

  He shouted something she couldn’t hear. Probably didn’t want to hear. Couldn’t shoot her until she stopped, so she probably shouldn’t stop…

  Cars came at them, swerved away with squeals and honks. Lots of honking. One car swung to the side, narrowly missing a parked car, revealing another car behind it, one that didn’t have as much time to react to her bad driving. Off to the side, she saw a free section of curb. It looked like a great parking spot.

  Though for her, it would more likely be a great crashing spot.

  She hit the brakes and cranked the wheel. Too hard. Car spun in a complete circle, but did skid toward the curb. And that sweet parking spot.

  Going to miss it—

  The incoming car clipped the fender, altering their trajectory just enough.

  Though it didn’t slow the sideways skid—

  The curb was high enough for the hit to jolt her to the roots of her teeth. The crunch of metal to cement was loud. Horrifying, yet kind of satisfying.

  Even belted, her head made painful contact with the steering wheel. Might have heard Curly’s head slam into something. His whine cut off, but any silence got swallowed up in the sound of multiple vehicles crashing into each other. Tires squealed from brakes applied. She heard a crash louder than the others and saw a truck sliding right at her…

  With an ice pack held against his aching head, Alex morosely scanned the chaotic scene. The attack squad, well, what was left of it, was face down on the street, their hands cuffed. Looking a bit surprised they weren’t cuffed, were the wise guys—what was left of them—making two uneasy huddles off to one side. A pity both Afoniki and Calvino had managed to come out alive. Looked like someone had winged Afoniki.

  The cops that weren’t watching bad guys and wise guys were searching the cemetery. Shouts hadn’t brought Nell out of hiding. Some cops were searching the surrounding area, but what if whoever had clocked him and taken Ben’s car had also taken Nell? If she saw the car, she might think it represented safety.

  One of the searchers came out, a cop name of Higgins. When he caught Alex looking, he shook his head.

  Alex didn’t sigh or look relieved. He was a cop with a bunch of cops. Higgins gave him the guy version of a worried look.

  “You look like you could use an ambulance—”

  “I need a car.” Alex cut him off. If she was in Ben’s car, if she was still alive, it was because someone still hoped she had useful information. Or they’d guessed she had the ring? And the only place where she had anything was back at the house. “Put out an BOLO on my brother’s car.”

  He gave them the deets and Higgins fed the info into the radio. Should he send people to the house? Ben was there, but he hadn’t answered his cell. Alex tried him again. Frowned as the call once again rolled over to his voice mail. It didn’t have to mean something bad. Just cuz nothing had been good for two damn days—

  While he waited, he considered what he knew. It wasn’t much, but he’d guess that no one would go to this much trouble to take out the former librarian. According to the first arrivals on the scene, someone had logged a bunch of fake 911 calls that had sent the first responders scrambling and had resulted in their late arrival here.

  “Um, Baker?”

  “What?” Alex spun around, his frustrated pacing cut short.

  “We have a hit on that plate. Accident about three blocks from here—”

  “Take me there, Higgins. Now.”

  In typical New Orleans fashion, the traffic snarl quickly out distanced the main crash site. Their progress stalled at least a block away. Alex shoved open the car door.

  “I’ll walk the rest of the way.” He looked around. “Get more people here, Higgins.”

  He had to jog for over a block, then turn a corner—there it was. Ben’s car. It looked like it was parked against the curb. Not a bad job except for the truck embedded in the back half. He rubbed his aching head, which jogging had not helped.

  A Lucky Dog cart hovered near the outer edge of the melee. He shook his head. He’d seen them beat the cops to an accident scene more than once, but it still surprised him.

  Speaking of which, the crowd looked unruly, angry—except for those buying dogs—and the center of angry was a big guy yelling and gesticulating to someone inside Ben’s car. Driver’s side. Sirens in the distance. One of them an ambulance.

  He started forward, used his badge to shift people out of the way. He felt a need to get to the car quickly—while reluctant to see what was inside. Who was inside. Some uniforms arrived from the other direction, also on course for the heart of the accident. He sorted through the jumble, saw five cars in addition to Ben’s, either smashed together or damaged.

  Alex reached the big mad guy and tapped him on the shoulder. When he didn’t turn fast enough, he spun him around. And saw—Nell. He shoved the bully to the side and bent to look inside.

  She gripped the steering wheel, staring out the windshield, beads of sweat turning her hair damp around her face. She was pale and had blood trickling down the visible side of her face but she was alive. Relief almost took out his knees.

  Beyond her, on the passenger side was—his brain almost froze. Curly? He tapped on the window when he wanted to smash it. “Nell?”

  After what felt like a long pause, she turned and looked at him, relief breaking over her face like a wave. She fumbled with the door, got it open, tried to scramble out and couldn’t. She looked surprised by that.

  “You’re still buckled.”

  “Oh. Right.” She looked down like she didn’t know how to unbuckle. Maybe she didn’t.

  Alex reached in and released her seat belt. She fell forward into his arms. Heat from the car came out with her. Lots of nasty, but not enough to make him move. He hugged her tight. Muttered soothing crap. It seemed to help. Her trembling began to ease.

  “Are you all
right?” he asked at the same time she asked him same question.

  A spurt of laughter shook her, or maybe it was tears. She scrubbed her face with one hand, glanced a bit uncertainly around.

  “He…I thought…I saw you…” She buried her face in his shoulder again.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine.” He had to add, “Nice parking spot.”

  A muffled chuckle. Then a sigh. “Your brother won’t think so.”

  Another pause, but Alex couldn’t disagree with her, so he just grunted comfortingly.

  “His gun is under my seat. I took it from him after—”

  She shuddered and he patted her some more. Then Curly gave a groan. Alex knew he probably had at least one more weapon unaccounted for, maybe two, if he’d brought his own with him. Which he should have.

  “Can you stand?”

  “I think I’d rather sit.” She shifted to the side, sinking onto the street with her back against the car. Used her sleeve to wipe her face.

  Still no color. A bruise formed around swelling on her forehead. Bleeding looked to have slowed some, though. They both owed Curly one. He crawled in and did a swift search, extracted two more weapons. Handed two of them off to a hovering uniform and stowed his back where it belonged. Then he crouched down by Nell and waited for Curly to notice him. He groaned a few times, finally turning his head and meeting Alex’s hard gaze.

  He blinked. Puzzled first. He glanced around. Alex saw the moment when memory dots connected. There was a mix of defiance and shame in his eyes.

  “Alex—”

  “Save it for your lawyer.”

  Nell watched as the EMTs extracted Curly from Ben’s car and settled him on a stretcher. Curly kept his eyes closed. Perhaps he sensed Alex’s stony glare following him, until he’d been stowed in the ambulance. Behind the fury, Nell sensed pain. He’d been a family friend. His dad’s friend and partner. That was a worry. Nell had no frame of reference for judging Zach, except by his kids. Until the swamp of her parents’ past has oozed up into her life, Nell would have taken that as proof Zach was clean. Now….

  Without comment Nell submitted to her own period of assessment while Alex strode around securing the crime scene and looking tough and yes, tragic. He had this wrinkle between his brows that made her knees go weak. She needed to quit mooning and start thinking about how to survive. It was more important than how to get the cop to kiss her again. Though if she was going to die—

  She shifted, trying to ease the stabbing pain in her side.

  “Something hurting you?” The EMT asked.

  Nell put her hand to her side and realized she still had a handgun stowed there. She’d shot someone. And left the scene. Was that going to be a problem? She didn’t think it would be a good idea to produce it in such a cop-intensive environment. They were all peeved at her, even though it was Curly who was dirtier than the gutters. Would that make them trigger happy? She did not want to find out. So she smiled a bit stiffly at the EMT and said, “Everything hurts right now, but not—”

  He seemed satisfied by her answer. He got up and handed her an ice pack. Nell must have looked confused.

  “For your black eye.”

  “I have a black eye?” Great. She applied the pack to the indicated eye.

  “You probably ought to have your head examined.”

  Not good to have someone say that to her two days in a row.

  “Can I get my head examined later or do I have to do it now?”

  The EMT shone a light in one eye, then the other. Considered it for several seconds. “You can go, but you need to follow up with your own doctor.”

  He was in Wyoming, but Nell didn’t mention that. Just nodded. If she didn’t figure things out, her next doctor visit was likely to be with a coroner anyway. Now there was a happy thought to add to all the rest. She gave herself a mental shake. Doing it for real would hurt like a son of a gun. She was a librarian for Pete’s sake, not a quitter or a whiner or—a wise kid. She didn’t have time to wait for the headache to clear. Suck it up time, as her dad used to say. That was one advantage she had. She didn’t know this—didn’t know their past. She didn’t know the wise family, didn’t know who they’d been, but she knew them. She knew her parents, obviously not as much as she’d thought, but they’d raised her. They might have tried to keep this from her, but they had to know that could change. They had to know the past could come back to bite them—or Nell—on the butt.

  Her best friend lived in New Orleans. They couldn’t have kept her away forever, despite the spirited attempts to do just that. That must have caused them some heart burnings, but they knew Nell, too. They’d raised her so—

  They’d prepared her. Her dad prepared for everything. He’d been a walking plan. She needed to sort through the past, through the homilies and lessons and things that didn’t look like lessons then, but probably were in hindsight. And then all she had to do was figure out which ones applied to this. She blinked. It hurt, but she persisted. Okay, the teaching her to shoot was obvious. Those hours at the shooting range, balanced against the family budget? Yeah, that was one of the lessons. It hadn’t seemed like it at the time. Most everyone in the state shot at something at least once. But what else?

  Have a plan.

  Suck it up.

  If you’re not dead, then you’re all right.

  Yeah, those were part of it. So what had been their plan for this? For the big reveal? There had to be something in the stuff she had—unless she’d given it away—no, she decided. They knew her. They would have made sure she didn’t give away the farm—and just like that she knew. She knew.

  12

  Alex was relieved to drive away from the crash site, even if it was in a rental car. He was surprised he’d managed to get one, though his insurance company probably hadn’t had time to black ball him yet. It had barely been twenty-four hours since his truck went down.

  He glanced at Nell. She stared out her window, as if the street were more interesting than it actually was. She had her elbow propped on the edge of the window so she could hold the ice pack over her eye.

  He cleared his throat. “How—are you all right?”

  She looked at him with her uncovered eye. “My mom used to tell me, if you’re alive, then you’re all right.” A pause. “Lessons from the former wise kids. Kinda gives it new twist or something knowing that…”

  Her grin was crooked. Her tone was wry. Her sigh made his chest tighten. He felt an all too familiar sense of not knowing what to do. With six sisters, it was almost a constant. “They were kids.”

  “Yeah. It’s kind of hard to imagine your parents as kids and then…” She adjusted the pack and sighed again. Silence reigned for a couple of blocks.

  “I saw it, well, one of them.”

  “Saw what?” It felt like he missed a beat. Also familiar feeling.

  “Toni’s tomb. The place where my mom isn’t buried.”

  “Oh.” Was that good? Bad? No clue.

  “Someone had left forget-me-nots there. They were pretty.”

  Most flowers were, weren’t they? Did he know what forget-me-nots looked like?

  “I wondered if someone didn’t want to be forgotten? Or they didn’t want to forget?” She looked at him. “It’s kind of sweet.”

  Women always thought flowers were sweet.

  He cleared his throat. “Did it…help…with your…problem?” He’d like to know he got shot at and tanked his brother’s car for something.

  “Oddly enough, it did.”

  He did not know what to ask.

  “It’s like, I’ve been trying to connect the dots between then and now and—”

  When the silence drew long, he reluctantly prompted, “And did you?” He had to admit, he’d never tried to connect his dad to anything. Wasn’t big on connecting dots if there weren’t bodies involved. He kind of winced, since this one did involve bodies. Lots of them.

  “Yes and no.” Her smile was wry, a bit sad. “I’ll probably never be able t
o wrap my head around my parents being those two kids.”

  “Don’t suppose anyone can with their parents.” Of course he’d seen pictures of his dad, of his mom, when they were young, but they didn’t look like his parents. Not even slightly.

  “They were just kids,” he said, surprised when he shouldn’t be, he supposed. He’d known, but he hadn’t known it. At eighteen he’d headed for college, not into hiding—well, it was a kind of hiding. He glanced at Nell. “What were you doing at seventeen?”

  The hand holding the ice pack lowered, as if she’d forgotten it, allowing both eyes to widen, then narrow in thought. She looked pretty cute with a shiner. She’d surprised him again, crashing the car and disabling Curly. Not to mention walking out of that cemetery alive. Her mom and dad would be proud of her. They should be proud of themselves, too. In some weird way, they’d managed to prepare her for this, while totally not preparing her for this. His temple throbbed a bit. His brain didn’t like this kind of non-crime-solving thinking. Never had.

  “Seventeen. Oh wow.” She half sighed. “Semi-painful. Graduating, not top of class, but not bottom.” A slight smile curved her mouth. “So excited to be going somewhere, I didn’t mind—” She stopped.

  “Mind?”

  “My parents talking me into becoming a librarian.”

  “Instead of art?” he guessed.

  She nodded. “They were big on practical. I guess pregnant at seventeen and fleeing for your lives does that to parents.”

  “Would do that to most people,” he agreed, using the pause for a light to study her. Wondering why he felt uneasy. There was a slight frown between her brows. Combined with swelling, it gave her a puckish look. “You didn’t mind leaving your high school sweetheart behind?” It was the fishing kind of question he usually only used in interrogations, but since he couldn’t call it back...