The 13th Victim

by Linda S. Prather

  “If she’s hurt herself, there’s no time for that.” Andi raised her hand to pound on the door again.

  “Okay. But if she complains, I’m going to get fired.”

  Andi felt like punching the air the way Shamus did every time something went right. The clerk knocked on the door. “Miss Carter?” She pulled out a key ring, inserted a key in the lock, and slowly opened the door. “Miss Carter?”

  Stepping around her, Andi did a quick survey of the room. The light was on, and a small diary lay on the flowered bedspread, along with a note.

  “It looks like she’s gone. When you find her, tell her leaving without checking out doesn’t end her bill. Now, I’ll have to call the manager.”

  “Don’t. I’ll check her out and pay any bill she might owe.” Andi picked up the diary and a note addressed to her.

  “Is Shamus her fiancée?”

  “Yes.”

  The clerk handed her a folded sheet of paper that was lying on the dresser and continued her inspection of the drawers before checking the bathroom. “There’s nothing else here.” She held up a set of keys. “And she left the keys.”

  Andi felt slightly ashamed as she opened the note addressed to Shamus and read it quickly. Maybe it won’t hurt him too much. “Thank you. If you can get her bill ready, I’ll check her out.” She felt like she was wearing weights around her ankles as she followed the clerk to the desk and waited while she checked the room record.

  “Looks like she’s actually paid through the end of the week. Do you want me to keep the room open until then in case she comes back?”

  “Keep the extra money and check her out. She took everything with her, so she isn’t planning on coming back. Thank you for your help.”

  “I hope you find her.”

  Andi rushed toward the entrance and out the front door. Her feet faltered on the steps as she stared at the empty space where her car had been parked. I wasn’t gone that long. Where the hell did he go?

  She dialed Shamus’s number, patting her foot in frustration. The phone went straight to voicemail. “Shamus, where are you? Call me back.”

  Sitting down on the top step, she swallowed hard, hoping to dislodge the lump in her throat. A sick feeling spread from the pit of her stomach as she held Tracy’s diary in her hand. Whatever Tracy was up to, Andi knew this was her end game. “Damn it, Shamus, where are you?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The sound of footsteps overhead woke Stuart from a feverish nap. The pain of moving was almost too much for his weak body, but he needed to be ready when she came down the steps. Seizing the Taser tightly in his right hand, he struggled to his feet as his body trembled and the room began to spin. Just a few more minutes. That’s all I need. The footsteps approached the overhead door, and he slid one foot in front of the other, moving slowly toward the side of the steps.

  “Is anybody down there?” a young female voice called out.

  His head came up, a small burst of energy making him move his feet faster. It wasn’t the Cobra. “Stuart Gambini,” he shouted, but he realized the words had come out as a mere whisper. He glared at the steps, ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth, and tried again. “Stuart Gambini. I’m hurt. Can you open the door?”

  Something rattled overhead, and he placed his foot on the bottom step.

  “It has a padlock and a key lock. I’ll have to find something to pry it open.” The voice was young.

  Hours had passed since the Cobra had left him. If she came back and caught the kid, she’d kill them both. “Not enough time for that. You got a pen, kid?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Take down this number.” Stuart rolled off the number. “You got that?”

  “Who is it?”

  “Her name is Jasmine. You tell her where I am and that the Cobra put me here. She’ll know what to do.”

  The silence from overhead was unnerving, and Stuart used the rail to lower himself into a seat on the steps. “You still there, kid?”

  “There’s an old shed out back. There might be some tools in it.”

  The spinning escalated, and vomit filled his throat. He spit it out and ran the back of his hand over his mouth.

  “You need to get out of here, kid, before the woman who put me here comes back. She’s a killer, and it won’t matter to her that you’re a kid. You understand me? Now get out of here and call Jasmine.”

  The footsteps retreated, and Stuart heaved a sigh of relief. If he didn’t get medical attention soon he would die anyway, but at least he wasn’t taking a kid with him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Tracy retraced her steps to the kitchen and out the back door. The man sounded weak, and he’d said he was hurt. She didn’t know who Stuart Gambini was, but if he was someone the blonde wanted to kill, then he was someone she wanted to save. She peeked around the corner before running through the hole in the fence and up the street. She’d make the call and watch to make sure someone came for him.

  She dialed the number and waited through three rings. She was about to hang up when a voice answered. “Hello.”

  “Is this Jasmine?”

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “Stuart Gambini told me to call you. He’s trapped in a basement at 323 Cordell Street. I think he’s hurt, and he said to tell you the Cobra put him there.”

  “This Cobra, is she there?”

  “Not yet, but I think he’s expecting her, so you better hurry.”

  “Who is this?”

  Tracy ended the call and shoved the phone into her purse, her fingers touching the hilt of the knife. It probably wouldn’t do her any good. The blonde had been vicious when she killed Marconi. Tracy found a spot behind the house next door and sat down. She could see a car from there without having to move around, and there wasn’t a fence in the back. If she had to run, there wouldn’t be anything in her way.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jasmine tossed the phone onto the couch and ran to the bedroom, pulling off the dress she was wearing as she went. It could be a trap set by the Cobra, but Stuart has been missing for two days. Two days in the hands of the Cobra was worse than a lifetime behind bars. What if it was TK who called?

  She ran through her wardrobe then quickly pulled on jeans and an oversized black pullover that would hide the gun she would be carrying. She grabbed a pair of boots, opened the bottom nightstand drawer, and retrieved her Glock and a second clip. She needed backup, but not the normal kind. If the Cobra was there, she didn’t want anyone hesitating and thinking they could take her in.

  She slowed just long enough to pull on the boots and grab her phone. She called Bart. “Bart, it’s Jasmine. I know where Stuart is, and he’s in trouble. Can you pick me up?”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”

  “Bring some firepower. We may be in for a fight.”

  “I never go out without it.”

  Jasmine took one final glance around the apartment then closed and locked the door behind her.

  True to his word, Bart was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps.

  “You should probably drive. You know the city better than I do.”

  He nodded. “My car is out back. Where are we going?”

  “323 Cordell Drive.” Jasmine followed him to a silver Ferrari Scaglietti. “Wow. Gambini must pay you well.”

  Bart opened the door for her. “It actually belongs to Stuart. He lets me drive it when he’s not in the mood for speed.”

  “Speed could be a good thing. The woman who kidnapped Stuart is a paid assassin, and if she gets there before we do, she may finish him off.”

  Bart slid behind the wheel and revved up the engine. “Buckle up, and we’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Want to tell me how you found out where he is?”

  “I got a call from a young girl.” Jasmine clung to the door as he roared out of the parking lot. “She said Stuart told her to call me.”

  Bart took his eyes off the road and stared at her. “Why would he tell her to
call you and not me?”

  “You’re going too fast to look at me. Watch the road.”

  He turned his attention to the road. “Are you going to answer my question?”

  “I’d rather not, but since you’re so insistent, Stuart knows who I am.”

  “What do you mean, he knows who you are?”

  “I’m CIA.” Jasmine sat back in her seat. “What unit are you with?”

  The question didn’t seem to surprise him, and he laughed. “That explains a lot. Special Agent Bart Graham Pratt, FBI. We’ve been guarding Gambini for the last six months. He’s our prime witness in a murder case. Unfortunately, he refused to go into witness protection.”

  Jasmine drummed her fingers on the side of the door. It was a habit she indulged when something was right at the edge of her understanding but still trapped in the shadows of her mind. “Do you think the Cobra was hired to kill him by your murderer, or was he just unlucky?”

  “McHugh wouldn’t have hired the Cobra. She killed his son. She must be after Gambini for some other reason.”

  Bingo. The shadows cleared, and Jasmine yelled, “Stop the car!”

  Bart screeched to a stop in front of a convenience store. “What?”

  “Give me a dollar.” He passed over the money, and Jasmine was out of the car and making her way to the newspaper dispenser before he could ask any more questions. Luck was on her side, and two copies of the Daily Drudge were still available. She bought one then made her way to the car, slid into her seat, and buckled her seatbelt. She opened the paper. “Damn it, that’s what Andi was going to tell me.”

  “What?” Bart pulled onto the road and sped up.

  “Her real name is Cherese Thomas. Her father was probably Richard Thomas. He killed a lot of people here ten years ago, and kidnapped Andi Carter and tortured her. Gambini rescued her, and then someone killed Thomas.”

  “She’s here for revenge?”

  Jasmine tossed the paper in the back seat. “That’s part of it. Have you been reading Andi’s stories?”

  Bart nodded but kept his eyes on the road.

  “I think she’s also here to find the young girl Andi is talking to before she reveals why the other girls were killed.”

  “This girl who called you—do you think it was her?”

  “Damn it, I don’t know.” She wanted to kick herself. If it was the girl, she could have asked her about Mollie, who was worth a thousand Gambinis.

  The car slowed, and Bart took a sharp right. “We’ll be there in five minutes. Anything else you want to tell me before we get there?”

  “Yeah, check the picture in the paper before we get out. If you see her, shoot fast and don’t ask questions.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Jerry caught Patrick’s eye as he entered the bar and nodded toward the back.

  “Any luck finding the kid?” Patrick asked before Jerry even had a chance to sit down.

  “We found Andi’s car parked near the church. No sign of Shamus, and the priest said he hadn’t seen him. Where is she?”

  “She took the diary upstairs to see if it contained anything that might help us. Gonna break her heart if anything happens to the lad.”

  “Listen, Patrick, I know you’re involved in things with McHugh. His men are all over the streets, showing the picture of the Cobra and roughing up anybody they think isn’t telling the truth. I figure he knows more about this situation than we do. Has he given you any clue why these people killed these girls?”

  “You’re wrong about me and McHugh. I only went to him to save Andi last time, and I went there this time to get back our markers. Right now, I’m not his favorite person.”

  The double doors opened, and Andi walked in. “Hannah said you two were back here. Did you find him?”

  Jerry shook his head, the sight of her red and swollen eyes tugging at his heart. “Anything in the diary to help us?”

  “Maybe. I made some notes.” Andi pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “This group of girls came together for protection. They were looking for a halfway house or someplace to stay and went into the warehouse one night to sleep. They saw a man murdered. Barnsworth, Marconi, Grange, and Sammons were all there, along with one other guy, but she doesn’t know his name. There was also someone behind a screen they all called the boss. Whoever this was ordered the girls be used for profit then killed.”

  “I’ll get some drinks for us. I think it’s time we put our heads together and come up with some answers.” Patrick headed into the bar.

  “Make mine a coffee.” Andi lowered her head to her hands.

  “Mine too.” Jerry pulled out a seat across from Andi, and she passed him the notes. “I don’t suppose they know who was killed?”

  “She thinks it was someone important. She really didn’t get a good look at him, and this happened three weeks ago. If it were a local, surely someone would have reported them missing by now.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so dumb about a case.” Jerry rose and took the coffee cups from Patrick’s hands, setting one in front of Andi. “Even knowing why the girls were killed doesn’t explain what part the Cobra plays in this mess.”

  “Opportunity.” Patrick pulled out a chair and sat beside Andi. “A job came up, and she used it to get here to find out who killed her father.”

  “Let’s take the Cobra out of the picture for a minute. If she weren’t here, what we would have is young girls being killed because they witnessed a murder. We need to find out who was murdered and why.” Andi stared at the notes she’d made. “We’ve also been assuming the councilman’s death and that of Mayor Morgan wasn’t connected to the girls. What if it is?”

  “I thought we agreed his wife killed him and used Eaves as a patsy?” Jerry sipped his coffee and shook his head. “That makes more sense than the two of them being involved in the girls’ murders.”

  “Divina said the Cobra called on her husband a couple of days before he was killed. Is there anything special the council is voting on in the next few weeks or months? Something that maybe Eaves or Morgan disagreed with?”

  “I think I need to take notes.” Jerry reached in his pocket for a pen. “I’ll have Cooper interview the rest of the council and see what’s up.”

  Andi frowned, and Jerry watched her, amazed at the way her mind worked. “You might also check to see if there are any other councilmen out of town. Maybe on vacation?”

  “You think the guy they killed may be another councilman?” Jerry asked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  The double doors swung open, and three of the four O’Conner brothers walked in. “You ready to go, lass?” Coilin asked.

  “Yeah, we’re just finishing up.”

  Jerry stood up. “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”

  Andi headed for the door. “We’re going to find Shamus.”

  Jerry started toward her, but Patrick blocked his way. “Let her go, lad.”

  The door swung closed behind them. “You knew about this?”

  “Aye, she told me.”

  “Damn it, Patrick, we’ve got to stop her.” Jerry moved to his left, pushing against Patrick’s bulky frame, which didn’t budge.

  “She asked me not to hurt you.” Patrick shoved him. “But I didn’t promise.”

  Jerry knew in a fistfight with Patrick he’d not only lose, his injuries would keep him down for a few days. “Detaining a police officer is a crime, O’Reilly. When this is over, you’re going to jail.”

  “Aye. You have some hard choices to make, lad. We can duke it out, or we can sit down like men and come up with our next move.”

  “What next move?” Jerry pulled out a chair and flopped into it.

  “Good choice. I’ll grab us another cup of coffee, and while I’m gone, you need to decide whether you want to save Shamus and Andi, or be a cop.”

  Being a cop was in his blood, and Jerry couldn’t just turn it off. He pulled out his cell, called Cooper, and relayed the information Andi
had found in Tracy’s diary. He was glad he’d been right about Cooper, and the young officer came back with the information he needed in minutes.

  “Thanks. Start looking for him.” Jerry ended the call when Patrick walked in with their coffee. “Andi was right about the councilman. Terrence Graves left on vacation three weeks ago and was due home yesterday. No one has heard from him.”

  Patrick sat down at the table. “Have you decided, lad? Do you want to save Shamus and Andi, or do you want to be good cop?”

  “Why don’t you tell me why I can’t do both.”

  “Because what I’m going to suggest is over the line, and possibly criminal. You may have to forget you’re a cop for a few hours.”

  “And if I decide I want to be a cop?”

  “Then we duke it out, because with or without you, I’m going.”

  Jerry stared at Patrick’s huge hands, which were wrapped around his coffee cup. I let Andi down once because I was a cop. I’m not going to do it again. “Black and blue aren’t my best colors. Tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

  “I’ve had someone keeping an eye on Divina Morgan. I think she’s somehow involved in this, and she’s packing to leave town. I think she knows where this woman is. I plan on making her tell me.”

  “She’s cagey. I doubt she’s going to tell you anything.”

  “I have me ways.” Patrick stood. “So are you with me, lad?”

  Jerry drained his coffee cup, set it on the table, and pushed back his chair. “Yeah, I’m in.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Cherese followed Gloria’s gaze to the back seat, where Shamus was tied and gagged. “You’re good luck for me, Gloria. The odds of running into our boy there, just when I needed him, were definitely against me.”

  “What are you going to do to him?”

  “That depends on you.” Cherese stretched out in the seat and placed her hands behind her head. “I hope you have a basement.”

  Gloria kept her eyes on the road and didn’t answer.