“New girl? How new?”
Mrs. Neel closed her eyes, counted silently, her lips moving. “About a week before the fire. It was a Wednesday, garbage day, and I had forgotten to take mine out. I got up early, and couldn’t go back to sleep. Saw a car drive up, a girl and a man get out. I assume her father. They went in, and a while later the man drove off.”
Mrs. Neel sat down on the porch swing. “Please excuse me, I’m getting old.” She sighed as she relaxed. “They really kept to themselves, and I don’t think Ivy would have spoken to me if her sister hadn’t wanted to visit. It must have been hard on them, but I’ll admit, I liked seeing how they looked out for each other. Families get torn apart these days, living everywhere around the world. I have three children, all of them more than a day’s drive!” She shook her head.
Lucy took a chance. She pulled Jocelyn’s driver’s license photo on her phone and said, “Have you seen this woman around lately?”
Mrs. Neel put on her glasses and looked closely. “Yes, yes I have. She’s been over several times. I haven’t met her.”
“Do you recall the last time?”
Mrs. Neel thought. “I can’t say, really. But it’s been awhile. More than a month, maybe two.”
That surprised Lucy. “Thank you.” She handed Mrs. Neel Noah’s card, but wrote her cell phone number on the back. “If Ivy or Mina or any of the girls contact you, please let me or Agent Armstrong know.”
“Is something wrong?”
“We’re worried about them. Since the fire, no one has spoken to any of them.”
“But they weren’t hurt, right? The firemen said no one was inside. I told you that, right?”
“No one was hurt in the fire, but we need to talk to them.” Then Lucy had another idea. She pulled up the unidentified girl from the Hotel Potomac. “Is this one of the girls?”
She squinted, put on her glasses again, and smiled. “Yes, yes, the new girl. Doesn’t she look young to be in college?”
Lucy didn’t respond to the rhetorical question, thanked Mrs. Neel for her time, and made sure she remembered she’d put Noah’s card—with Lucy’s cell phone written on the back—in her pocket.
* * *
Ivy didn’t want anything bad to happen to Pastor Marti North, but she didn’t know what else to do.
“If you can just keep Mina awhile longer,” Ivy said.
“As long as necessary,” Marti said.
Marti was pastor of His Grace Church. She was a forty-five-year-old former Army chaplain who ran the church and preschool for lost souls. At least, that’s how Ivy viewed it. She’d been coming to services ever since moving to the house on Hawthorne. She listened to the message of forgiveness, redemption, and love, but didn’t truly believe she deserved it.
Not when she harbored dark feelings of murder.
“Please be careful,” Ivy begged. “I’ll come for her as soon as I can.”
“Ivy.”
She turned to the pastor. “Once I get my sister safe, I’ll be back.”
“There are people who can help.”
“Like Jocelyn?” Ivy paced, her voice rising. “She’s dead. So is her husband. I’m worried about what could happen to you if you help me.”
“No one knows Mina is here. She hasn’t been outside. I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”
“I hate asking—”
Marti showed a rare irritation. “Ask, and you shall receive,” she quoted.
“Don’t—if God cared, Jocelyn would be alive. She never hurt anyone, she was only trying to help me. As soon as I get Sara settled, I’m coming for Mina. No later than tomorrow.”
She turned and started to leave the small, simple church.
Mina stood in the back.
“You don’t have to come back for me,” she said. “I’m okay.”
Tears threatened, but Ivy wasn’t going to cry. “I promised to take care of you, even after I rescued Sara. I promise I’ll come back.”
She shook her head. “You only had two passports.”
“I was working on getting yours.”
“It’s okay, Ivy.”
“You have to believe I care about you!”
“Sara’s your sister.”
Ivy strode over and hugged Mina. “So are you. In my heart. I’m not leaving you in DC. You’re coming to Canada with me. I just need to get the money, I already have three passports lined up.”
Marti said, “I have some money.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“It’s not enough, but it will help.”
Ivy squeezed her eyes shut, nodded her head once. “We’ll talk tonight.” She hugged Mina again and left.
Hawthorne Street was six blocks over. Ivy went the long way, through alleys, staying off the main streets. Truly, she didn’t know who was trying to kill her, and that made everyone a potential killer.
Ivy knew Mrs. Neel kept cash in a wall safe in her house. She also knew, because of Mina, that Mrs. Neel never remembered her password, so had written it in her address book, which was in her top desk drawer.
It was probably not enough, but it was something, and she would make it work.
She didn’t want to steal from the old woman, but she’d leave a note, promise to pay her back. Mrs. Neel had been so kind to them. Ivy already missed the house, the neighborhood, the small sense of peace.
No time for regrets.
If she had to, she’d sell her body to ten guys tonight, give blow jobs to a hundred, if that was what it took to raise the money to go to Canada.
Ivy came at Mrs. Neel’s house from the narrow alley that backed up to the rear yard. She kept hidden as best she could along the side of the garage, but she’d have to cross the driveway to reach the house.
Voices came from the front porch, and Ivy feared she’d have to wait. She didn’t have time. She peered around the corner and saw the back of a woman with long, dark hair pulled back, dressed professionally in slacks and a thin blouse. Cop? Arson investigator? Ivy didn’t see any law enforcement vehicles on the street, but she only had a partial view of the road.
Mrs. Neel seemed occupied, and the desk was in the back of the house, far from the front door. She had to take the risk.
Without giving herself time to change her mind, Ivy slipped in through the back door, using the key that Mrs. Neel had given Mina for emergencies. Guilt made her head ache, but she had no other choice.
She heard the voices, but not what was being said. Without hesitating, she flipped the address book over, memorized the passcode, and carefully took off the picture frame from the wall. She typed in the numbers, heard a click, and the light turned from red to green.
Her heart started beating again.
There were a lot of papers—insurance, bank statements, tax records, and for a moment Ivy feared Mrs. Neel had no cash.
Then she found the white, business-sized envelope.
She had no idea how much was inside, but she put it down her shorts, closed the safe, put the picture back, and slipped out of the house.
She’d been inside for less than four minutes.
The woman was still on the front porch, and down the long driveway, a black woman was talking to her next-door neighbor.
They had to be cops.
Almost at the same time, a dark blue van turned down the street. The driver wore a ball cap, but there was something familiar about him.
She’d seen him with Wendy many times.
What did Wendy call him? Dumb and Dumber. He had a brother. She called the two of them Dumb and Dumber, said they were her partners, but she ridiculed them.
But that was so long ago. Why was he here?
Did he have a hand in Wendy’s death? He shouldn’t even know where Ivy lived! Did Wendy tell him? Did Wendy hate her so much that she sent a killer after her?
Ivy didn’t believe it. They had a major disagreement, but Wendy wasn’t violent. And Wendy was dead.
Had the killer tortured the information out of h
er?
Ivy had to keep her wits about her. She’d run—but not to Marti’s church or St. Anne’s. She had to go far away, turn the attention away from her sister and Mina.
She wished Kerry had gotten in contact with her—she needed to be warned. But it had been three days and total silence.
What if she and Bryn were already dead?
A cry escaped Ivy’s chest and she swallowed it, the lump sticking like unchewed steak in her throat.
She squatted behind the shed, hoping he was gone. Waited. But she was nervous and antsy and couldn’t just sit here waiting for Dumb or Dumber to find her.
Wendy was obviously wrong about their intellect if they could kill so many people and not get caught.
She started across the backyard, but moved too fast. Or too slow.
The woman at the door caught her eye.
Ivy sprinted to the fence sealed it quickly. Then she and saw Dumb’s van again. He grinned at her, pointed his finger like a gun.
Ivy ran faster.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lucy ran across the street to Genie’s car. “Genie! I think I saw Ivy!”
Genie ran down the sidewalk and jumped into the driver’s seat while Lucy ran around to the passenger side. Genie called in the pursuit of a subject on foot, and Lucy directed her around the corner.
“She jumped over the back fence.”
Genie squealed around the corner and turned down the alley. It was much harder to pursue a suspect on foot while driving.
“Do you see her?” Genie asked. Lucy was scouring the area, looking around the Dumpsters and garbage cans and through cracks in the fence.
“Dammit!”
“I’ll go down the next alley, then go around wide, backup is on its way.”
Genie crossed a two-lane street and drove into the adjoining alley. She slammed on her brakes when a woman darted out in front of her car.
It was definitely Ivy. She looked over her shoulder, terror etched in her face, then back at Lucy.
Lucy shouted, “Get in!” and manually unlocked the back door.
Ivy was obviously torn, but another glance behind her had her running around the car. She grabbed the door handle, pulled it open, and jumped into the backseat, keeping her head low. Before she’d even closed the door, she shouted, “Go, go, go!”
Genie sped down the narrow space, looking in her rearview mirror.
“Is someone chasing you?”
“Yes.”
“Who? I don’t see anyone.”
“I don’t know!”
The bumper clipped a garbage can and the crash of metal made Lucy jump.
“Don’t slow down!” Ivy cried.
Lucy turned in her seat and looked through the back window of Genie’s sedan.
“I don’t see anyone,” she said. “Genie, slow down.”
“I got it under control.” She glanced at Lucy and grinned. “You look green.”
“I don’t like car chases.”
“Let’s just get to the station.”
“No!” Ivy screamed. “Please, no!”
Lucy looked back again and saw a van turn down the alley from a side street.
“Genie! Van, dark blue, behind you.”
“Can you see the driver?”
“White male. Baseball cap.”
“Tags?”
“There’s no front plate. He’s gaining.”
Genie turned out of the alley, but the street was also narrow, parallel to but higher than the main road. A low guard railing separated them from a steep drop. She called in the pursuit.
Lucy said to Ivy, “I’m sorry we have to meet like this. I’m Lucy Kincaid—I’m an analyst for the FBI, and I can help.”
“You did—you got me away from that guy. Now let me out.”
“You’re in danger. This is Detective Genie Reid with DC police; she’ll put you in protective custody. She’s investigating the murder of your friends.”
“You don’t understand. Just let me out!” Ivy hit the seat.
“Who else is in danger? We can protect them as well.”
The unmarked car wasn’t designed for carrying prisoners, had no shield separating the back from the front. Lucy watched Ivy’s hands, realizing she had been impulsive, that Ivy could have a gun, she could be dangerous.
“Ivy, please trust me.”
Ivy snorted. “I can’t trust anybody.”
“Do you know who killed Nicole and Maddie?”
“How—” She stopped talking.
“I know about your sister.”
Silence.
“Mina, right? Where is she?”
A screech behind them caught Lucy’s attention. The van had gained on them.
“Shit!” Genie exclaimed.
The van was on their bumper. The driver hit them hard. Genie barely kept the car on the road.
“That’s him!” Ivy said. “Can’t you drive any faster?”
“Officer in trouble!” Genie said into her mic. “Cleveland near Thirty-first. Dark blue van—shit!”
The van hit them again. A red light was ahead, cross traffic in front of them. Genie had her grille lights flashing. She flipped a switch on the dashboard and a siren whirled then died, whirled then died.
The cars ahead of them slowed, blocking the intersection.
The van rear-ended them and Lucy let out a startled yelp. Ivy had a grip on the door, as if debating whether to jump out.
Genie veered to the wrong side of the street and turned the wrong way down a one-way street. It bought them only a few seconds. The van squealed, sideswiped a parked car, and followed.
He stuck his hand out the window. Metal flashed in the sunlight.
“Gun!” Lucy cried out.
The gunman fired at the tires and missed. He fired his gun again and her back window cracked.
“Stay down!” Genie ordered.
A crossing guard guiding small children was right in front of their car. Genie turned the wheel sharply right, down an embankment, losing control of the vehicle. It was going too fast, and then it hit the bottom and almost went end over end. The airbags exploded, sounding too much like a gunshot. Lucy’s head banged hard against the airbag. Her body was jerked sharply back and suddenly the car fell on all four tires.
Lucy coughed from the powder released with the airbags. “Genie?”
The steering column was wedged tight against the detective and blood was dripping down her face. She was unconscious, but breathing.
“Ivy, are you okay?”
Ivy had a cut on her head and was coughing as well. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She tried her door but it wouldn’t open.
Lucy’s vision was blurred, but she located her handbag on the floor by her feet and retrieved her gun.
“Don’t,” Lucy told Ivy. She spit blood out of her mouth. Her head was spinning. She tried to unbuckle the seat belt, but it was jammed.
Their attacker had started down the embankment. He had a gun. There were onlookers at the railing looking down. Any of them could be a hostage or get caught in the line of fire. Lucy didn’t trust her aim because of double vision; she would have to wait until he got closer to fire.
She heard sirens at the same time as the gunman. He hesitated. She fired her gun at his feet—both pairs of them—then ducked. Screams from the road above cut through the ringing in her ears. He fired once into the side of her car, then a much closer siren and bullhorn sounded from the road below the embankment.
The attacker ran back up and jumped in his van.
Lucy leaned back.
“He’s gone,” she told Ivy. “You’re safe.” She had to convince Ivy to trust her, but how? All she had was a theory. “I know about Wendy,” she said. It sounded like she was talking in a tunnel.
Ivy stared at her. “What?”
“The room. The recordings. Let me help you.” Lucy reached up and touched her head, came away with blood.
“I have to go!” The door was still stuck. Ivy climbed out th
e shattered window in the back.
“Ivy. Stay—”
She stumbled through the thick shrubs along the embankment and disappeared.
Lucy tried to unbuckle her belt, not knowing if it was really stuck or she was more seriously injured than she thought.
Genie moaned, but didn’t open her eyes. The radio played static, but Lucy fumbled with the channels. “Officer down,” she said. “Need ambulance.”
Two uniformed officers approached from the road below. Lucy closed her eyes. She needed a minute to catch her breath. Just. One. Minute.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sean bypassed the nurse’s station and went straight to Lucy’s room. No one tried to stop him. As long as he looked like he knew where he was going, and didn’t make eye contact, he’d bet his Mustang no one would intervene.
And if anyone tried, they would fail.
Lucy was in the emergency room, a nurse changing her bandages. He stood outside the door, the privacy curtain partly obscuring her view so she couldn’t see him at first.
Sean pushed down on the fear, burying it under layers of false confidence and bravado. He’d seen Lucy in far worse shape than a few scrapes and bruises. She’d seen him worse as well. In fact, looking at her, other than her unusually pale complexion and the fact that she was wearing a hospital gown, she looked just fine.
She’s fine. Lucy’s just fine.
He had to repeat the mantra before the pendulum in his stomach stopped swinging. When he knew he could speak without his voice cracking, he shook off the remaining anxiety like a dog shakes off water. Took a deep breath. Only then did Sean push the curtain aside and step into the cubicle.
“You picked a lovely day to relax in the hospital.” He smiled broadly to mask his lingering fear. He walked to the opposite side of the bed from the nurse and took Lucy’s hand. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “If you needed a vacation, you should have called me. I’d fly you up to Maine. Beautiful in July.”
“Isn’t your plane still being repaired?”
“I’ll borrow one.”
“You’re not supposed to be in here.” The nurse glanced at him over the tops of her thick glasses. She was younger than Lucy, but the glasses made her look twenty years older.
He winked at the trim, efficient RN. “I won’t stay long. Cross my heart.” He made the gesture.
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