by Byrne, Wendy
“Shane’s sick. But he’s taking antibiotics, and I’m sure he’ll be better soon. Give me Walt’s number.”
“Here it is.” She rattled it off. “Now I’m going to burn this letter in case that prick comes snooping around again with a search warrant that he lied to get.”
“Thanks for all your help.”
“Keep in touch. And stay safe.”
“Count on it.”
* * *
By the second dose of penicillin, Shane was coherent enough for them to be able to make the drive into Chicago, despite the fact it was two in the morning. Under his directions, they made their way to the Ryan home in the northern suburb of Lake Forest.
Even in the dark of night, it was impossible not to notice the grandeur of the upper-middle-class neighborhood. In comparison to the other homes they’d traveled past, the Ryans’ home was modest.
Around the home were huge trees and lots of shrubbery, which worked in their favor. The last thing they needed was a nosy neighbor wondering why the Ryans had company at this time of night, especially when they were several thousand miles away.
“How do we get in?”
“Key in the garage door code.” Shane rattled off the number.
Though there was little light, she was pretty sure they were alone. She slipped out of the car and punched in the code.
The garage door opened like a charm. After everything they’d been through in the last few days, she half expected the entire CPD to mow them down in a hail of gunfire. Instead, she gingerly pulled next to a black Volvo sedan, then got out and hit the garage door button at the side to close the door behind them.
“You need to key the code into the alarm.” He pointed to the flashing red box to the right of the door to the house.
She sprinted over and keyed in the numbers he gave her. To her relief, the alarm disengaged with only seconds left on the clock. Next she went back to retrieve Shane and the few belongings they’d accumulated.
“To be safe, we should probably leave the lights out except for the ones on timers.” Shane shuffled inside, still looking like death warmed over.
For a few seconds she wondered if the penicillin prescribed for her was powerful enough. Since he’d mentioned he’d had mega doses in the past, she could only hope he hadn’t built up some kind of resistance. As if she needed that additional complication.
“Do you suppose they have any food?”
“Not sure. They planned on being away for a while, so probably nothing fresh. But Mrs. Ryan usually has a stock of stuff in the freezer and cases of pop and water, usually some beer.”
The thought of food made her stomach rumble. With everything that had gone on, she’d virtually stopped eating. Given all the worrying she’d done and the subsequent running from bad guys, there hadn’t been a whole lot of time left over to do much else.
It was hard to see much of the house with only a sliver of moonlight for light. Feeling her way along a massive hallway, which opened into an equally massive kitchen, she easily found the double door built-in stainless steel refrigerator. Opening the freezer section, she found several cartons of macaroni and cheese and was in heaven.
“I’ll put this on.” She didn’t leave room for him to argue because more than likely he’d say he wasn’t hungry.
Instead of protesting, he sat down at one of the stools around the center island. “Any water in there?”
She opened the refrigerator side, finding two cans of pop but no water. “I’ll look for some later, but these were handy.” When the microwave dinged, she searched until she found the eating utensils and plunked their gourmet feast onto the countertop. “I talked to Donna.”
His fork was midway to his mouth when he stopped and stared. Given the meager light she wasn’t sure if it was more shock or surprise on his face. “What’d she say?”
“First of all, Carissa’s out of the hospital and trying to reach Garrett. She also said Stu’s been hassling her since we left. But she’s also heard from Walt Cummings.”
“I thought that guy was long gone. Maybe, if I don’t end up dead, there’s hope he’ll take his damn bar back.”
“Doubt that. From what I can gather, Walt wasn’t running from creditors. He was running from the same people we are. He desperately wants to talk to you.”
“Do you think it’s a setup?”
“You’d know that better than me.”
Ten seconds later Shane was on the pay-as-you-go cell phone, ignoring the fact that it was the middle of the night. She watched his expression turn from consternation to skepticism when the phone was finally answered.
“Who is this?” Shane asked, putting the phone on speaker. The reception sucked; static and noise blurred most of the sound.
“Who wants to know?”
Without answering him, Shane continued. “You left a message for me.”
“I left a message for a lot of people.” At least that’s what she thought he said. Every other word was missing.
“This is getting me nowhere.” Shane was readying to disconnect the call when Walt spoke again.
“If it’s you Shane, I want to help. They killed her.” He mumbled something else she didn’t catch.
Although she could only hear bits and pieces of what the guy said, it sounded as if he were sobbing on the other end of the line. He was probably drunk. Fat chance Shane would get anything useful from him.
“Killed who?” Shane asked the first question that was on her mind. Drunk or not, with killing in the mix, getting him to spill had to be the number one priority.
Walt was on a crying jag at the other end of the line. Shane shook his head. “I can’t understand you, Walt.”
“Annie. They killed my Annie.”
Color her shocked. While she knew Annie fit in there somehow, this wasn’t how she would have figured it, even though she should have guessed when everything pointed to an older man in her life.
“Who killed Annie, Walt?” Shane’s voice reflected the urgency she felt.
“They’re on the video. They killed her, Shane. I want them to pay.” Walt dissolved into another crying jag in which his words and thoughts were pretty much nonsensical. “You’ve got to help me, Shane.”
“How can I do that when I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about?” Shane clicked off the phone.
“Why did you do that?” She gulped. Shane had suddenly become pensive and it made her nervous.
“He was too drunk to make any sense. I’ll call him back tomorrow and hope he’s sober enough to give us information.”
“It’s gotta be the same video those guys were looking for.” It seemed far-fetched right now, considering the reference had come from an incoherent drunken man, but what if?
“Hell if I know.”
“What if the video has nothing to do with the Marcos case but has to do with Annie and whoever murdered her?”
Shane’s expression went from thoughtful to dismissive. “That would mean Vince’s accident was just a coincidence. We know coincidences don’t exist.”
“Not unless we can tie Tony and Annie together. She did ask you to recommend an attorney. Maybe it was for Tony. We don’t know they didn’t know each other.”
“Walt was drunk. Maybe he was delusional.” He got up from the chair and grasped her hand. “We need to get some sleep if we hope to stay one step ahead of this.”
There was something he wasn’t telling her. She just didn’t yet know what it was.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Shane was still asleep when Gabriella got out of bed the next morning. At nearly nine o’clock, she figured it was safe to call Donna.
All night long she’d been thinking about Annie, Walt, Stu, Vince, and the Marcos case, so much so she was about to explode. She had come to only one conclusion.
“What do you think about Patrick?” she blurted out as soon as Donna picked up.
“What do you mean?”
“Can we trust him?” She chewed on the edge
of her lip while she thought about their options. They needed help. She was clear-headed enough to recognize this situation was bigger than the both of them.
“He’s Shane’s brother. What does Shane think?”
“Shane can’t be objective. But we can’t do this alone. We need help on the inside, and Patrick is the only cop I know in Chicago.” If she thought for one second it would help, she’d call in her brother Joaquin in a heartbeat. But at this point, she wasn’t sure it would.
“My gut says he’s one of the good guys. Then again, I haven’t been around him much.”
Her anxiety level had heightened during the course of the night, even though both Shane and his gun were tucked in close. Maybe it was the enormity of the house that made her feel so insecure. Maybe it was their close proximity to trouble central that had her adrenaline popping. She wasn’t sure. But she knew if she ever wanted both of them to be safe, she needed to do something. If there was a video stashed somewhere, she needed to get at it.
And fast. She couldn’t wait for Shane to feel better and figure it all out. The way things were headed they’d be dead within the next couple of days.
Impulsive? Maybe. But she’d still rather be that than dead.
Donna finally spoke. “What’s going on?”
“Walt told Shane there was some kind of a video with proof of whoever killed Annie…I don’t know, maybe more. It’s hard to figure. Shane’s not so sure he believes him. Did you know Walt and Annie were involved?”
Donna was quiet for a few seconds. “Now that I think about it…I don’t know too many bar owners who would have kept her on the way she was, drunk or high most of the time, but Walt always forgave her. Then, like I said, she straightened up.” She hesitated before she continued. “She did talk about a new man in her life who was going to help her. But she never mentioned any names. Now I know why.”
Gabriella’s breath hitched, and her heart began to beat faster in her chest. “If Annie knew about a video—even though we don’t know what it’s of—any idea where she would stash it? Where did she live? Or do you think she gave it to Vanessa and now the bad guys have it?”
“She had a studio apartment near Chinatown the last I knew. But she mentioned something about being evicted.”
“How about Walt? Where’d he live before he left town?” There had to be a million places somebody would hide something.
Donna asked the question that was plaguing her thoughts as well. “Are you sure a video even exists?”
“No. But it’s the only lead we have, and, if it does exist, that might mean we have a chance of beating this thing and not spending our lives in prison.”
“If it’s somehow connected to Annie and Walt, then the Blues Stop is logical, but I’m sure the police have gone over that place with a fine-toothed comb.”
“So they should have found it, right?” If the video existed, and that was a huge if, there was no way the police would be hunting them like dogs if they’d already found it.
“No way. They’d know you didn’t have diddly if you didn’t have evidence.”
“True.” She let the idea simmer around her brain for a minute. “How do you find something that might not exist?”
“Start at the source and think of all the possibilities.”
She nodded, thinking the same thing. “Where did Walt live?”
“Northern suburbs. As far as I know his soon-to-be ex-wife still lives there. Let me do some digging on my end and see if I can come up with an address. I’ll give Carissa a call and see if she has any ideas.”
“That would be great.” Somehow she felt more anxious than before but she didn’t know why.
“Did Walt say anything else?”
“Nothing that made sense. Shane’s going to call him back today. Hopefully Walt will be sober.”
There was a strong possibility Walt had been rambling, a drunken, guilt-ridden diatribe that had nothing to do with reality.
“I’m going to let you go. I’ll see what I can find out and call you if something comes up.”
“Great. I’ll talk to you later.”
It shook her to think how far reaching this whole situation had become. How could they trust anyone? For once, she could relate to Shane’s paranoia. Donna and Carissa were safe. The jury was still out on Patrick.
“What’s wrong?”
She jumped when Shane came around the corner. It was this darn house. It was so large it was like a mausoleum. “Nothing, other than the usual—afraid we’re going to go down in a blaze of gunfire. Why?”
“Because you were singing. So which is it, nervous or scared?” The stubble of hair that had started to grow glistened from a shower. For the first time since she’d found him in the alley, he’d taken the time or had the energy to shave.
She, on the other hand, was un-showered, uncoffeed and still wearing the t-shirt she’d worn to bed. It was no wonder she didn’t like being in charge; it was playing havoc with her sense of style.
“Was I?” Since she couldn’t remember singing out loud, she was more than likely closer to going over the edge than she’d thought. But the good news was Shane seemed to be on the mend, if the way he looked this morning was any indication.
“Yep. I think it might have been ‘Dead or Alive.’ But I could be wrong.” He gave her a smile that made her feel all squishy inside, proving once again that whatever was heating up between them was going from simmer to boil.
“My subconscious must be speaking.” Never having considered herself a violent person, she’d found out over the last couple of days how quickly that could change. “I hope that’s not a bad sign.”
“I’ll worry if you start using me for target practice.” He walked close and gave her a quick kiss. “Coffee?”
His kiss startled her in one way, but in another, it felt normal. Weird how in so little time things had evolved between them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the exact moment it had happened.
“I was about to put some on. I also found some waffles and breakfast sausage in the freezer.” She pointed to the boxes she’d set on the counter.
“You’re my new hero.” He opened the packages, plunking the sausage into the microwave and inserting the waffles into the toaster. After sitting down at the center island, he popped another dose of the antibiotic, chasing it with a glass of water. “I’m starving.”
She joined him, bringing cups of coffee for both of them. “Walt wasn’t real clear last night, to say the least. What do you think is going on? Did Walt and Annie really have a thing?”
“Walt had a thing with a lot of women, which is why his wife wanted a divorce. As for Annie, I couldn’t say. He sounded broken up about it, so I guess it could be true.” He stopped for a second, as if measuring what he was about to say. “No doubt he’s got himself into hot water and maybe thinks he can use me to worm his way out.”
“But why lie about something that’s so easy to disprove?”
He took a sip of coffee. “That part bothers me. But I still have to think about Vince Perry and why he’s laid up in the hospital. As far as I know, he’s got nothing to do with the Blues Stop or Walt.”
“I don’t see the connection, either.” How could two random incidents be connected when there seemed to be nothing even remotely tying them together? But it was there. She knew it.
“I e-mailed Garrett, too. Hopefully he’ll check his e-mail soon. He might have an idea about this video Walt’s talking about. If it even exists in the first place.”
“It does seem a little too-made-for-tv-movie-ish. Most bad guys, especially cops, would be a little too smart to get caught on video.”
“Exactly. It almost smells like a trap.”
Once again she tried to figure out the common thread linking Shane, Walt, Annie, and Mack. The Blues Stop was the obvious answer. But how did that tie into Vince Perry except for the remote possibility of Annie and Tony? What if it didn’t? What if they were chasing their tails? What if the video was a red herri
ng meant to throw them off track?
“What about Patrick?”
“What about him?” Shane ground his teeth together, which was never a good sign.
They needed Patrick, assuming he was one of the good ones. But how would she know until it was too late? “Maybe we should trust him.”
Saving them from what would no doubt be an argument, her phone rang. She picked it up without giving more than a cursory glance at the number.
“Hello.”
“Gabriella, it’s Donna. You’re not going to believe this, but Patrick just left my house.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to know if I knew where you were. Luckily I didn’t, and he believed me. He said he’s been looking into things and knows a way to help. But he needs to talk to you.”
Oh, God, why is life so complicated at times? Especially when Shane was glaring at her as if she were hiding something, mostly because she was. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think. That’s why I’m calling you. I’m willing to do whatever you want, but I need direction.”
“Let me get back to you.” She hung up the phone, feeling ever so guilty. While she hated to keep the conversation from Shane, she had to. He couldn’t be impartial, and he would get her mind headed in one direction when it might need to be going in another.
“What was that about?”
“Donna said the police are sniffing around and she doesn’t know what to do. She can’t get rid of them no matter what she does.” That sounded plausible, even to her. He didn’t know they’d talked fewer than fifteen minutes earlier.
Maybe it was her guilt, but he looked at her as if he knew she was lying. “Then why are you humming again?”
She was losing it. She was breaking into song and didn’t have a clue she was doing it. Keeping lies straight was definitely a full time job. “Don’t you think I’m under a little stress here? Is it so surprising I might use the one tool that makes me feel better?”
He grimaced. “Sorry. But you didn’t tell her where we were, did you?”
She must have made him feel guilty since he changed the direction of his questions. Not only that, but he got up and fixed a plate of sausage and waffles for both of them.