The Perfect Lie

by Dinah McCall

  “I want to see his body.”

  Ruger’s frown deepened. “The warden said they released the body to a funeral home in East L.A. I’ll call him back and get the number.”

  “Do it now!” Jonah said.

  Ruger turned around and pointed to a nearby agent. “Get the warden on the phone for me again.”

  “Yes, sir,” the agent said, and made the call. A few moments later, he looked up.

  “He’s on line one.”

  Ruger picked up the phone. “Warden Henry, this is Agent Ruger again. I have a request. We need the name and number of the funeral home that picked up Calderone’s body.”

  “Just a minute,” Henry said. “I have it here somewhere. They left a card with the release sheet. Oh, yes…here it is. Got a pen?”

  “Yes, go ahead,” Ruger said, writing quickly as the warden read off the name and number of the funeral home.

  “Got it,” Ruger said. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “Glad to be of help,” Henry said, then disconnected.

  “Call them,” Jonah said the moment Ruger hung up the phone.

  “I’m calling, although I don’t know how looking at Calderone’s body is going to help us find your son.”

  “Damn it, Ruger…if you don’t make the call, I will.”

  Ruger resisted the urge to roll his eyes and punched in the numbers. The phone rang once, then twice, then three times. Then a recorded message came on the line.

  The number you have dialed is not in service.

  “Hell,” Ruger said, then hung up and dialed the number again. Again he got the same message. He handed the paper to his clerk. “I might have written the number down wrong. Call information and get the number for the La Paloma Funeral Home in East L.A.”

  “Yes, sir,” the clerk said. A moment later, he looked up at Ruger. “Sorry, sir. There is no listing for a funeral home by that name.”

  Ruger was starting to sweat. He turned around and stared at Jonah.

  “What the hell do you know that we don’t?”

  “You said they released his body to his sister. Miguel Calderone doesn’t have a sister.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he used to brag about the virility of his padre, who’d fathered eight boys. Other than his mother and two daughters, the only females connected to Calderone were the ones he took to bed.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Ruger said. “What the hell’s going on here?”

  Before Jonah could answer, Carl French came running into the room.

  “What’s going on?” Ruger asked.

  “The agent who’s been following the gardener just called. Something is going down. He thinks he’s packing to leave.”

  “Calderone is dead,” Ruger said.

  “No. Calderone is gone,” Jonah said. “He escaped.”

  Carl’s mouth dropped. “He escaped from Lompoc? Impossible.”

  “Not for him,” Jonah said. “They pronounced him dead, then hauled his sorry ass out in a hearse to a funeral home that doesn’t exist. Figure it out for yourself.”

  Carl shook his head. “I can’t believe this. Who claimed the body?”

  “The sister he doesn’t have,” Jonah said.

  “Oh, my God,” Carl said, then looked at Jonah. “You know what this means?”

  Jonah nodded. “Yeah. If Evan is still alive, it won’t be for long.” Then he started to pace. “I don’t know how, but I would bet a year of my life that Calderone isn’t dead and that he’s just pulled off his own ‘great escape.”’

  Macie had remained silent until now, but she couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

  “People…I need some answers, and I need you to explain this to me in words I can understand.”

  Jonah cursed softly, then strode out of the room.

  Macie turned to Carl. “Please. Tell me what’s happening.”

  “If Calderone is out, and if he’s alive, then he’ll be heading for Evan. There’s a little matter of revenge that he won’t pass up. Not even if it means putting himself at risk to stay in the States long enough to do the job.”

  Macie felt sick to her stomach. She was afraid to ask another question for fear of the answer she would get. She needed to find Jonah. He would know what to do.

  13

  By the time Macie left the library in search of Jonah, he was already out of sight. Rosa came into the hall with a fresh bouquet of flowers for the table in the foyer as Macie was trying to decide which way to search.

  “Rosa, did you see which way Jonah went?”

  “Sí, Miss Macie. He went up the stairs.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and hurried up the stairs, then down the hall to his room. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it aside and walked in. Jonah was on his cell phone. She started to leave, but he motioned for her to wait.

  Macie closed his door, then sat down on the edge of his bed. To her surprise, he circled the bed and sat down beside her, then put his arm around her as he continued to talk. Without thinking, she leaned into the comfort of his embrace and closed her eyes. Her heart hurt for Evan and for what he must be going through. She wouldn’t allow herself to think that he was already dead. She couldn’t think about that beautiful young boy on the verge of manhood never drawing another breath. The last time she’d talked to him had been less than two months ago, on his fifteenth birthday. His voice had been full of excitement as he’d talked about the time when he would be old enough to drive. If she didn’t constantly fight the urge, she could so easily start screaming and never stop. The devastation that her family was suffering was true hell on earth. And then she began to focus on what Jonah was saying.

  “Yes! That’s the one. The new tracking prototype. Consider it a test run. Okay. Yes, sir. I appreciate it. And you’ll get it back…one way or the other.”

  Jonah disconnected, tossed his cell phone aside and pulled Macie into his arms, holding her close, then burying his face in the tumble of her hair.

  “You always smell so good,” he said softly.

  Macie’s heart fluttered as she felt him shudder.

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “My boss.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “More news to back up my theory. Calderone didn’t die. He gave himself some kind of jungle poison that mimicked death. The prison doctor was coerced into helping. They’d taken his wife and were holding her hostage until it was over.”

  “Oh, no,” Macie said. “Is she all right? Did they let her go?”

  “No. They found her dead in a motel on Ventura Boulevard. The doctor killed himself after he heard the news, but he left a note explaining his part in Calderone’s escape.”

  Macie shuddered. “He’s crazy, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked up at him then, staring intently. “You’re not telling me everything.” She frowned. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

  He hesitated briefly, then pulled back and looked at her. There was a steadiness in her gaze that gave him hope and a longing for more.

  “I have no choice. We’ve run out of time.”

  Macie felt a weight settling in the pit of her stomach and knew that what he was about to tell her wasn’t going to be good.

  “But what can you do that hasn’t already been done?”

  “I know a way to get to Evan.”

  She frowned. “Then why have you waited?”

  “Because I’m not sure if I can get him out alive.”

  “I don’t understand,” Macie said.

  He sighed. “Basically, I give myself up to Calderone.”

  Macie froze. “You can’t! Think of all the people he’s already killed. You know what he’ll do to you.”

  “No. I know what he wants to do to me. That doesn’t mean I’ll let it happen.”

  “This is crazy,” Macie said, and grabbed his arms, as if by holding on to him, she could keep him from getting away.

  “So is th
e man who has my son,” Jonah said.

  Macie groaned. “Even if you do this…what guarantee do you have that you’ll be able to get to Evan?”

  “None, really, but I know Calderone. I know how he thinks. By now he’s surely been told that I didn’t know about Evan. It stands to reason that he will want me to bond with him just long enough to make watching him die that much harder.”

  “God almighty,” Macie muttered. She pulled out of his embrace and stood abruptly. Her voice was full of anger, her eyes full of fear. “I don’t want you to do this,” she said. “What if Evan is already dead? Then all you’ll have done is fall into Calderone’s trap. He will have accomplished exactly what he set out to do. He’ll have destroyed you and all you hold dear, and I’ll be grieving for someone else who I loved and lost.”

  Suddenly Macie realized what she’d said and turned away, her heart pounding, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Macie…honey, I—”

  She felt Jonah’s hand on her shoulder and twisted away, unable to bear his pity.

  “Don’t say it,” she said.

  He reached for her again, this time catching her, then holding her firmly against him.

  “Don’t say what?” Jonah asked, nuzzling the side of her neck. “Don’t say that your smile makes me weak…or that the taste of your lips on my mouth drives me crazy? Don’t tell you that making love to you was…is…the best thing that ever happened to me?”

  She felt his sigh against her neck.

  “I can’t do that,” Jonah said. “I won’t. I’m falling in love with you, too, sweet Macie. The timing sucks, but such is life. No matter what happens tomorrow, I will be forever grateful that we had each other.”

  Macie turned within his embrace, then threw her arms around his neck.

  “Jonah…oh, Jonah…my first instinct is to beg you with everything in my being not to go. But what you’re going to do is only part of the reason I’ve always loved you. You put others above your own happiness and yourself in harm’s way. Your heart is too big for your own good.”

  Jonah sighed, then lowered his head, crushing his mouth to her lips, then lifting her up and carrying her to his bed.

  Before she could speak, he had locked the door and was taking off his clothes. By the time he reached the bedside, he was naked. When he grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, she moaned beneath her breath. And when her clothes were lying on the floor beside the bed and he was naked above her, she started to shake.

  “Don’t, baby,” Jonah whispered. “I would never hurt you.”

  Macie pressed a finger against his mouth, as if to silence his words, then shook her head.

  “Oh, Jonah, this isn’t from fear. It’s nothing but pure pain. I ache for you. Do what you have to do tomorrow, but for now, do what you must to me.”

  Jonah shuddered. There was no time for gentleness or foreplay. This was about the affirmation of the living and saying goodbye. It couldn’t matter that it might be their last time together. If he let himself think about never seeing her again, he would go crazy. Instead, he didn’t think at all.

  She opened her legs for him, and he slid in. She was hot and wet, and he was hard and hurting—the perfect combination to go up in flames. Once inside, he paused for a moment, letting her body adjust to his size while he regained control of his lust. Then she said his name and started to cry. It was enough to break his heart.

  “Ah, baby…don’t cry. Not for me. I swear to God, if there is a way, I’ll come back to you, and I’ll bring Evan with me.”

  Nothing she’d experienced in life had prepared her for the past few days, yet the man in her arms knew nothing but danger and death. She didn’t know what the next hours would bring, but she did know that if she lost Jonah, too, she would die.

  “Make love to me, Jonah. Now.”

  He started to move, then groaned. “Damn, I forgot to get protection.”

  He started to reach toward the bedstand when she stopped him with a look.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, and put her hands on the sides of his face.

  His eyes went wide with shock. “Only once before have I ever been careless enough to make love without protection, and it got a woman pregnant.”

  “I won’t ever lie to you, Jonah. Please, make love to me now…without caution or care. If you give me a child, then so be it. If you go through with your plan, it could be all of you I have left.”

  “Jesus,” he said softly, then laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He was shaking inside, both from the tenderness of her words and the thought of never holding her again.

  “Please.”

  He groaned, then raised himself on his elbows and stared down at her face.

  “It should have been you,” he said quietly, then brushed the surface of her lips with a kiss. “If I’d known, I would have waited.”

  Macie sighed, touching his mouth, then his nose, mapping the feel and the shape of him into her mind forever.

  “But then you wouldn’t have had Evan, and he’s so perfect. Go find him, Jonah, and bring him back. Just make love to me again before you go.”

  There was no more need for words.

  The urge to move overcame whatever Jonah had been going to say. Macie arched to meet the thrust.

  Time stopped, then started with the next beat of their hearts, and for a little while, there was nothing in their world but the heat and the joy.

  After all his days in captivity, Evan had finally found a weapon, but his hands were so sore and swollen he wasn’t sure he would be able to use it. And he’d found it because of the bugs on his mattress.

  They often crawled on him while he slept. He’d felt them before, but couldn’t bear the thought of looking to see what they were. He would always awaken just enough to brush them away and then let himself go back to sleep. It was there in his dreams that his world was still complete, and he hated to wake to the reality of his life.

  But this time his sleep wasn’t deep enough, and there were too many bugs. When they crawled on his face, he woke with a gasp and bailed out of bed, cursing as he pulled them out of his hair and flung them across the room.

  He’d seen cockroaches before, but these were huge, some as long as four or five inches, and they were crawling up the walls and all over his bed. He kicked at the bed frame, taking some satisfaction in seeing them scurry.

  “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, and kicked at the bed again, still shuddering as he ran shaky hands all over himself in an effort to rid himself of the feeling.

  “What goes on in there?” the guard yelled.

  “Bugs the size of Denver, you sorry bastard! That’s what goes on in here!”

  The guard laughed, then hit the door with a fist.

  “You do not talk,” he ordered.

  “Then stop asking me stupid questions!” Evan yelled back.

  There was a moment of silence, then nothing except the sound of fading footsteps.

  “Good,” Evan muttered. “Keep your stinkin’ self as far away from me as possible.”

  Then he yanked the flat, filthy mattress from the frame and gave it a shake before stripping off his clothes, giving them a good shake, as well. The bugs were gone now, hiding as all cockroaches do when disturbed. Evan redressed himself, ignoring the stench of his body and his clothes. They were nothing compared to the pain in his hands.

  It wasn’t until he started to drag the mattress back onto the old metal cot that he saw it. Once it had probably been some sort of a brace for the springs, but it was now just a piece of thin, flat metal dangling from one bolt, almost dragging the floor. It was bent and red with rust, and almost twelve inches long, but it reminded him of a knife. It came loose without much effort, and the moment Evan had it in his hands, his hope was renewed.

  He thrust upward, then downward, getting used to the feel of it in his hands. It hurt like hell to make a fist, but Evan bravely ignored the blood and pus oozing from his fingertips. After all they’d do
ne to him, he knew he had the guts to plunge this into the soft flesh of his captor’s neck. The only problem would be getting close enough to do it.

  Excited, he slid it in the waistband of his pants, then groaned when it fell all the way through the pant leg and onto the floor. He’d known he’d lost weight, but not to this extent.

  Frustrated, he picked up his weapon and was, turning it over and over in his hands as he tried to figure out where to hide it when he heard footsteps outside his door again. His fingers tightened around the metal bar until they were throbbing. Finding a hiding place no longer mattered. He wanted to live, and to do that, he was going to have to kill.

  As always, the guard entered carrying a tray of food in one hand and his gun in the other. When he saw the boy, not only out of the bed but near the door, he waved the gun in his face.

  “Get away,” he said sharply, and motioned with the tray to emphasize the order.

  Evan moved, but it was forward, not back. He came at the guard, wielding the metal bar like a knife. It caught the guard’s gun hand on the downswing, knocking the gun off to one side.

  The guard grunted with surprise and tried to ward off the second blow with his other hand. In doing so, the tray of food he’d been carrying went flying, dumping part of the food on him and the rest on the floor.

  Evan hit him in a flying leap, plunging downward with the bar as they collided. The broken end of it sliced through the guard’s shirt, then dug into the flesh of his neck, drawing blood, but not deep enough to score a fatal blow.

  The guard’s roar of pain echoed within the small, airless room as he reached for the boy. Evan twisted swiftly, trying to get past the guard, but he was too slow. When he felt a hand suddenly grab his ankle and jerk, he kicked hard, trying to dislodge the grip. It was too little, too late.

  The guard grabbed Evan’s arm, wrenching the bar away, then throwing it out of the room. He staggered to his feet, dragging Evan upward with him and cursing with every step they took. He threw Evan against the wall, then caught him before he hit the floor, pummeling him over and over with his fists.

  Suddenly another man was in the room, pulling him off of the boy and shoving him back against the wall.