The Perfect Lie

by Dinah McCall

  He grinned. He’d just pulled a gun on the ice maker dumping ice in Jonah Slade’s refrigerator.

  Jumpy bastard.

  Quietly he checked the kitchen. As expected, it was empty. He moved down the small hallway, noting the two doors opposite each other and stopped. He took a step to the right and cocked his head toward the door, listening for any sounds of occupancy, but heard nothing. Gripping the gun a little harder, he leaned against the door and turned the knob. It swung inward on silent hinges to reveal a Spartan bedroom partially lit by a night-light beside the bed. The bedclothes had not been disturbed, although there was an imprint on the spread, as if something had been set there after the bed had been made. The closet door was closed, and from where he was standing, he could see the towels neatly folded on the rack in the adjoining bathroom.

  It was obvious Slade was not here.

  He stepped back into the hall and opened the other door. Slade had made an office out of the second bedroom. There were two computers, a fax and a copy machine, as well as a couple of printers. File cabinets lined one wall. He tugged on one of the drawers. It was locked, as were all the others.

  Now where did he go from here?

  The longer he stood there, the more certain he became that he knew where Jonah Slade was. What had happened to the Blaines was all over the news. It seemed plausible that someone had contacted him about his son’s kidnapping. Slade might not have known about the boy before, but he surely did now.

  The Snowman smiled. “If it was my son, I know where I’d go.”

  7

  Jonah stood at his bedroom window, staring down at the grounds below and watching two of several groundsmen on riding lawn mowers, who were in the process of keeping the lawns of the Blaine estate neatly mowed. Another gardener was on his hands and knees in a bed of flowers, carefully weeding, while yet another wielded a pair of hedge clippers. Jonah leaned closer to the glass, wondering which one was the man masquerading as Felipe Sosa, and what Ruger and his men had found out about him and his habits. He’d asked more than once, but Ruger had consistently hedged his answers.

  Jonah frowned as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Last night had been hell, and the longer he stayed here with Macie, the worse it was going to be when he left. He hated to admit it, but she’d gotten under his skin. Her beauty, coupled with her vulnerability, made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. As for his son, he wouldn’t even let himself think of what Evan must be enduring. He couldn’t. Not and remain objective about what had to be done.

  He watched as the gardener with the hedge clippers paused, then took off his wide-brimmed straw hat and moped his brow with the back of his shirt sleeve. As he did, Jonah realized it was the man from the video—the man who was calling himself Felipe Sosa. The fact that he was still on the premises was proof of how omnipotent Calderone considered himself to be. Control was everything to the man, and he was willing to sacrifice anyone to maintain it. If the impostor knew how expendable he was to the cartel, he would most likely have disappeared at the same time the kidnapping had occurred. It remained to be seen what his part in the attack had been, but Jonah would bet his life it was prime. For that reason alone, he could easily have killed him without a second of concern. But that wouldn’t help find Evan.

  However, Jonah held a trump card.

  Himself.

  He was willing to give Ruger another forty-eight hours, and then he was going to take matters into his own hands. Jonah knew how to blend into the underworld. He’d done it countless times before. With the right word to the wrong people, he could let himself be found, and if his theories were correct, he would be taken directly to Evan. The problem would be in getting them both out alive.

  A knock at his door broke his concentration. He called out as he turned.

  “Come in.”

  It was Macie. She was quiet and pale, her expression blank. Her black, ankle-length, short-sleeved dress was of a sheer, gauzelike fabric, revealing a darker slip dress beneath. She’d left her hair down, framing her face in a veil that was the color of new copper. Her shoes were nothing but a few strips of black leather fastened to a nearly flat sole. The only color she’d added to the ensemble was a thin wash of bronze lipstick.

  “You look beautiful,” Jonah said. “What have you been doing?”

  “I’ve been on the phone to Chicago, trying to iron out some problems at the company. It isn’t easy to do it long distance, but for now it’s okay.”

  “What do you do?” Jonah asked.

  “I own an import business. It’s time-consuming but lucrative.”

  Jonah looked at her with new respect.

  “I don’t think I knew that,” he said. “Good for you.”

  She shrugged. “I’m ready to go.”

  Jonah was so struck by her appearance that it took him a few moments to answer. Then he remembered. The crematorium. Today was the day she was going to pick up Felicity’s ashes.

  Hell. Well, there was no other way but to get this over with. He walked toward her. When he stopped, he was close enough to hear the soft inhalation and exhalation of her breath. She smelled of gardenias, and despite her carefully applied makeup, he could tell she’d been crying.

  Despite his better judgment, he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, then sighed. Soft. So soft. When he bent down and kissed the side of her face, he heard a quiet, almost indistinguishable sob. He wanted to say something that would alleviate her pain, but there was nothing to be said other than the mundane things that must come.

  “Ruger is sending a couple of men with us.”

  She nodded.

  He hesitated, then added, “Macie?”

  She swallowed, struggling to find a way to talk without screaming.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re not doing this alone. Lean on me. Let me be strong for you. It’s not much, but right now, it’s all I can do.” Then his voice lowered perceptibly, an indication of how deeply he was affected by what she was going through. “God only knows how badly I need to do something.”

  She shuddered, then momentarily rested her forehead against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne and feeling the power of his heartbeat against her skin.

  Strength? Right now she had none.

  Leaning on Jonah? It was something she would gladly do for the rest of her life. However, she would take what she could get, and if today was all it would ever be, then it would have to be enough.

  “Thank you, Jonah, more than I can say.” Then she flattened her hands against his shirt and pushed herself away. “Let’s go. The sooner this day is over with…”

  She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t have to. Jonah knew what she meant. Dying was easy. It was the living who had to struggle with the loss.

  “Do you have everything you need?” he asked.

  Macie looked at him, thinking to herself that as long as he was at her side, she would never need anything else, but she didn’t say so. Instead she patted her handbag.

  “Yes, all the papers are here.”

  He took her hand in his and gently squeezed her fingers.

  “Considering everything that’s going on, what you’re wearing probably doesn’t mean a damn, but just for the record, you take my breath away, Macie Blaine.”

  Macie looked up at him then. A slight shiver ran through her when she saw the look in his eyes. Dear God. If only—She shivered and pushed the thought from her mind.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Felicity always liked pretty things. I did it for her.”

  He held out his hand. She took it without hesitation, letting herself be led down the stairs, past the place where her sister had died, then out of the house and into the sunlight. Just as she started to get in the car, she stopped and turned, curiously eyeing the grounds and then the massive, three-story mansion.

  “Macie…what’s wrong? Did you forget something?” Jonah asked.

  She stood for another moment, still staring around the area
, then shrugged.

  “I guess it’s nothing.”

  “What?”

  She looked up. “I know it’s weird, but I just had the strangest feeling I was being watched.” Then she grimaced. “That’s stupid. Of course I’m being watched—by all kinds of police officers, right?”

  Jonah had managed to stay alive this long by trusting his instincts, so he wasn’t one to ignore anyone else’s. Without thinking, he put himself between Macie and the house, and quickly opened the car door.

  “Get in,” he said shortly.

  Macie obliged, only afterward realizing the urgency in his voice. Agents Sugarman and Carter were in the front seat, with Carter behind the wheel. Jonah leaned in the window and said something to Carter in a voice too low for her to hear. She watched as he got into the back seat beside her. As they were driving away, she saw a trio of men come out of the house.

  “Jonah?”

  He looked down at her and then took her hand, holding it as if to reassure himself that she was still there.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s going on? What did you say to the men?”

  “You said you felt as if you were being watched. I just told them what you said. Instinct is what keeps us alive, and in this business, we don’t ignore anything.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” he said. “Just being careful, you understand.”

  “Yes, of course,” Macie said, but she was lying. She didn’t understand any of this. They were supposed to be investigating her sister’s murder and her nephew’s abduction, not behaving as if she was about to be the next victim. Something was wrong, but they were keeping her in the dark. Her resentment grew as the ride went on. She watched the two men in the front seat. One of them was on a cell phone constantly, but when she leaned forward slightly, as if hoping to overhear what was being said, he clammed up. That only reinforced her belief that she was the last person to know what was being done. It not only hurt her feelings, it was making her mad.

  A short while later they exited the residential area of Bel Air and pulled onto a freeway. She leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.

  “There’s a more direct route,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carter said, and kept driving.

  Jonah touched her shoulder to get her attention.

  “It’s okay, kiddo. Just a little evasive driving.”

  Kiddo? Disgusted that she was being placated with smiles and pats on the back, Macie leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, too drained to notice the evasive maneuvers the agent was taking as he drove.

  But Jonah noticed, and more than once ran his hand down the front of his jacket, taking comfort in the bulge of the holster and handgun he could feel beneath.

  When they finally arrived at the funeral home, Macie had fallen asleep. Jonah, however, was a bundle of nerves. He’d stared intently at the driver of every car that passed them on the freeway, and now that they had parked, he was loathe to let her out of the car. Calderone had ordered a hit on Felicity, thinking she was his woman, even though they’d never married. If Calderone had any indication of what Jonah was beginning to feel for Macie, then her life was in danger, as well.

  Macie roused, then sat up. Agent Carter, who’d been driving, turned around.

  “Miss Blaine, would you mind sitting in the car for just a few moments while my partner checks out the area?”

  Flustered that she’d fallen asleep, she didn’t realize the implications of what he’d just said until both federal agents got out of the car. She shifted where she sat, absently running a hand through her hair while waiting as she’d been told. It wasn’t until she saw Sugarman take a stance by the car while Carter started toward the building that she realized something was amiss. She scooted toward the edge of the seat.

  “Jonah…what’s going on?”

  “They’re just being careful.”

  She sat for a moment, staring out the window at the perfectly manicured lawns and the sidewalks lined with stately palms. On the surface, everything looked so calm, so ordinary, and yet ordinary was no longer a part of her world. The longer she sat, the angrier she became. Her sister was dead, her father in a hospital clinging to life, her nephew missing and enduring only God knew what, and here she sat, hiding in the back seat of a car. Suddenly she snapped.

  Before Jonah knew it, the door was open and Macie was getting out.

  “Wait! Damn it, Macie, you can’t—”

  She shut the door in his face, smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and then lifted her chin as Sugarman turned, then started toward her.

  “Miss Blaine, you need to wait.”

  She held up her hand, stopping him where he stood.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got my orders.”

  “Fine, but they didn’t come from me, and you need to stay right where you are. I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of having people I don’t know in every corner of my home. I’m going into that building and coming out with what’s left of my sister, and you can wait right here or go home.”

  The agent eyed her nervously, then looked toward Jonah for guidance as he got out of the car.

  “Sir, Ruger will have my—”

  “I’ll go with her,” Jonah said.

  Macie turned on him. “You’re just like the rest of them,” she said. “This is my family that’s been decimated, and I’m the one who’s being kept in the dark. I ask questions and get half-assed answers that don’t make any sense. You want me to cooperate? Tell me the truth.”

  Jonah stood without flinching, taking the brunt of her anger while knowing it came from despair. He also knew he wasn’t going to tell her a damned thing more than she already knew. If she knew the depths of Calderone’s capabilities for evil, she would go mad thinking of Evan in his grasp. He would take any amount of her anger not to let that happen.

  “The truth? What truth? I can’t change what’s already happened, and no one knows where Evan is. If they did, don’t you think I would move heaven and earth to get him back?”

  For a moment Macie’s expression registered nothing of what he’d just said, then she pivoted sharply and started up the walk.

  Jonah glanced nervously over his shoulder, giving the area one last scan, then took off after her.

  Macie knew in her heart that there were good reasons for the things they weren’t telling her, but it wasn’t the secrecy that troubled her as much as her feeling of helplessness. She’d been in charge of her life and her career for many years now, and quite successfully. Being dependent and treated like an incompetent was not only insulting, it was unnecessary, and today it had all come to a head. She knew Jonah was right behind her, but she wasn’t slowing up and she wasn’t waiting—not anymore. She was the only one left in her family who could function, and by God, she wanted justice, even though all she was going to get today were her sister’s ashes.

  Jonah got as far as the lobby of the funeral home before Macie turned around. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment; then Jonah held up his hands in a gesture of defeat and took a single step back.

  Macie’s lips thinned, the only sign of her determination to do the rest of this alone, and walked away.

  Jonah didn’t entirely understand what had set her off, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was serious. He respected guts and determination, whether they came from a man or a woman. Right now, watching the length of Macie’s stride and the unyielding stiffness of her posture, he knew, for the first time in his life, he was falling in love. At that point he sat down in the nearest chair he could find and tried not to think of what that reality meant.

  One minute flowed into another and another, until twenty minutes has passed. Patience had never been his strong suit, so when he finally saw her coming, he bolted to his feet, then forgot what he’d been going to say.

  She’d stormed into this place lik
e an avenging angel, but somewhere between then and now, she had shattered. When he saw the small gray urn she held clutched to her chest, he knew. He took a step toward her, then stopped as she came toward him.

  She paused, as if suddenly remembering that he was there, and looked up. There was no question on her lips, no expression in her eyes. She was just waiting.

  Jonah started to touch her, but the subtle shift of her shoulder told him it was not okay. Instead he moved toward the door, then held it open as she walked through. Both Carter and Sugarman were waiting near the front walk. When they saw her, Sugarman automatically fell into stride beside her, while Carter hurried to the car. Jonah paused on the steps, giving the surrounding area a final sweep before following. When he was about halfway down the walk, the skin suddenly started to crawl on the back of his neck and he knew, the same way Macie had sensed back at the house, that they were being watched. Automatically his hand brushed the pocket of his sports coat. The gun was there—but where the hell was the enemy?

  By the time he got to the car, Macie was safely inside. He slid into the back seat beside her and then tapped Carter on the shoulder.

  “Get us out of here,” Jonah said.

  Carter swiftly obliged.

  A few moments later, a dark gray car pulled out of a an obscure driveway and into traffic, taking care to stay far enough behind the car in which Macie was riding so as not to be observed.

  The two men in the car were pros. They had their orders, and taking out a couple of feds and a bodyguard to get to Macie Blaine was just part of the plan. They talked casually as they continued surveillance, confident that at the next stop they would make their move.