The Perfect Lie

by Dinah McCall

  “Stop, you crazy son of a bitch! If you kill that boy, Calderone will kill you.”

  The guard spun, instantly recognizing the man he knew as the Snowman.

  “He tried to kill me,” the guard said, and touched the side of his neck where blood still seeped.

  The Snowman looked at the boy lying unconscious on the bed, then back at the guard and grinned.

  “Looks like he’s got a lot of his old man in him, after all…which is why I’m here. The padrone is out of Lompoc and out of patience. He will be here sometime tomorrow or, at the latest, the next day. Make sure the boy is still breathing, you hear me? The padrone intends to be the one to take his life.”

  The guard glared, then shrugged and nodded. “Yes, I hear.” He looked back at Evan one last time, then kicked the side of the bed. Evan’s body rocked from the impact, eliciting a slight moan, which was exactly what he intended.

  “Little bastard. If not for the padrone, I would kill you now!” the guard yelled, then kicked the cans of food aside as he strode through the door.

  The Snowman stood beside the bed, staring down at the boy. He’d been beaten badly. Calderone wasn’t going to be happy, but at least the boy was still alive. He started to walk away and then, on impulse, leaned down and pressed two fingers against the pulse point on Evan’s neck. The pulse was rapid but steady.

  “It’s a shame about all this, kid. Looks like you would have made a damned good man.” Then he chuckled. “Don’t take any wooden nickels, although I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re not gonna live long enough to spend them.”

  Moments later, he was gone.

  Evan heard the man’s voice, but his eyes were too swollen to see. Rage came slowly, settling into his belly like food that had gone bad. Everyone kept telling him he was going to die. He never had liked being told what to do. And the smart-aleck tone of that other man’s voice pissed him off, too. If his lips hadn’t been so swollen, Evan would have told him not to get himself in a hurry about digging that hole to dump his body in. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

  He shifted slightly, giving his aching ribs some ease, and exhaled slowly.

  God…I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I sure do need help.

  The rat came out of the hole, hesitating briefly as it crept up on the floor. When nothing and no one moved, it began confiscating the scattered bits of food from Evan’s tray.

  Now and then Evan would moan, and when he did, the rat would stop and look up, its little black eyes scanning the room for new signs of danger. Satisfied that all was well, it ate its fill while Evan struggled to draw breath against cracked and bruised ribs.

  “Corazon…you have come back to me,” Elena crooned, and laid her cheek against the stubble on Miguel Calderone’s face.

  Calderone heard the voice, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to answer. His body felt weighted, his muscles aching as if he’d been beaten. He drew a slow breath, then exhaled on a moan.

  Elena took the wet cloth from his forehead, dipped it back into a basin of water and wrung it partially dry before reapplying it to his forehead. The medicinal value of the wet cloth was nil, but it seemed proper and gave her something to do.

  A man entered the room. She looked up, then smiled. It was Juan Carlos, Calderone’s other son.

  “Look!” she cried. “Your padre is waking up, just as he said he would do.”

  Juan Carlos nodded as he glanced at Elena. He had been waiting for three days at the northern California ranch. He liked it here and would have liked to stay. But thanks to his father’s legacy, a normal life was not his to choose.

  He moved closer to the bed, then laid his hand on Calderone’s chest. Even though he could feel the heartbeat, it was hard for him to believe that it was so. He’d watched Elena administering the CPR. His father had been cold and lifeless; then he’d started to breathe. Juan Carlos tried to tell himself it was a miracle, but he was just superstitious enough to believe it was more likely the work of the devil. He started to step back when his father suddenly grabbed his hand.

  He grunted in surprise. “Padre?”

  Calderone took a slow breath, savoring the fill of air into his lungs. He tried to open his eyelids, but they had yet to respond to his mental commands.

  “Mi hijo,” he whispered.

  Juan Carlos leaned over. “Yes, Papa, it is I, Juan Carlos.”

  “Stay.”

  Juan Carlos patted his father’s cheek and then smoothed the hair from his forehead.

  “Yes, Papa, I will stay. You are safe. Just rest and get well.”

  “Elena?”

  She laid her hand on Miguel’s other cheek.

  “Yes, Miguel, I am here, and I, too, will stay. Sleep now. Sleep and grow stronger.”

  It was all Calderone needed to hear.

  Jonah woke abruptly. For a few seconds he thought something had happened to Macie, but she was still there, asleep in his arms. But the notion that something terrible was happening was too strong to ignore. Confident that Macie was safe, he slid his arm out from beneath her neck, then got out of bed. After dressing quickly, he went downstairs in search of Ruger. There were things that needed to be said.

  There were two agents in the conference room. One was stretched out on a sofa; the other was still sitting at a computer.

  “Hey, guys. Anyone seen Ruger?”

  “He left a little after seven,” one of them said.

  Jonah frowned. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “He didn’t say. Want me to call him?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Jonah said, and started to leave, then stopped and turned around. “On second thought, yes. I need to talk to him before morning.”

  The agent picked up a phone and punched in some numbers, then handed the phone to Jonah. Jonah counted the rings, frowning when he got nothing but voice mail.

  “Ruger, it’s me, Jonah. Call me at the estate as soon as you can.”

  Frowning, he hung up the phone. “Where’re Sugarman and Carter?”

  “Carter went home. His wife is having a baby. Sugarman is with Ruger, I think.”

  “What about my friend, Carl French?”

  One agent looked at the other one, then shrugged.

  “He left right after you did. Said he was going to get something to eat.”

  Frustrated, Jonah started to pace.

  “In a couple of hours, a man will be bringing me a package. Let him in the house, then come get me.”

  “Will do,” the agent said.

  Jonah went back upstairs. Macie was still asleep, so he moved to the window, looking out onto the grounds below and letting his mind go free.

  There was something he was missing here, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. Who in hell did he know that was selling him down the river? He went over the list of things that had happened, trying to piece it all together.

  Calderone had found out about Evan before Jonah did, which meant someone who knew both of them had told him. But few people knew anything about Jonah’s background—especially before he joined the Company. Even more puzzling, who did he know who would have anything to gain by selling information about him to Calderone?

  And then there were the attempts on Macie’s life. There had been the bug planted on her at the hospital, the attempt to kill her on their way to La Jolla to scatter Felicity’s ashes. Every time they’d left the house, it seemed as if someone had not only been waiting for them, but had also known their destination. The only way that could be happening was if someone on the inside was tipping off Calderone’s people.

  He wiped his hands across his face, then walked away from the window. It seemed impossible to believe, but it made more sense than anything else he could come up with. And, if that were true, what he was planning to do could blow up in his face.

  Jonah sat down on the side of the bed and satisfied himself with just looking at Macie. She was so beautiful and caring, and he was falling so deeply in love. He closed his eye
s in a brief but fervent prayer. He wanted his son alive and in his life, and he wanted Macie with him forever. It was a lot to ask, coming from a man who rarely prayed, let alone prayed for divine intervention, but the rest of his life was riding on the outcome. Too restless to stay with Macie, he pulled the covers up over her legs and then went back downstairs. He’d just decided a change of plans was in order when the house phone rang.

  He picked it up without thinking.

  “Blaine residence,” he said.

  “I’m Cecelia Bardley, a nurse here at Cedars-Sinai. May I speak to Mercedes Blaine?”

  “She’s asleep. May I give her a message?”

  “Are you family?” she asked.

  Jonah hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Mr. Blaine suffered a stroke a short while ago. We had hopes that it might be a temporary event, but the doctors are saying it was massive.”

  “Is he dead?” Jonah asked.

  “No, sir, but he doesn’t know anything or anyone and there’s not much hope for his recovery.”

  Jonah sighed. “Okay. Thank you for letting us know. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “There’s no need,” the nurse said. “As I said before, he won’t know you’re here. The doctor just wanted to let you know.”

  “Yes. Well…thank you just the same.”

  He hung up the phone and then looked back up the stairs. Another burden to lay on Macie, and right when he could not be around to lighten the load.

  14

  Jonah went up the stairs, his steps a lot slower than when he’d come down. He walked into Macie’s room and sat down on the side of the bed again. He hated like hell to wake her, but it had to be done. He wasn’t leaving this news for someone else to give her.

  “Macie…sweetheart.”

  She rolled over on her back, then reached for Jonah’s hand and lifted it to her lips.

  “Is it morning yet?” she asked.

  He leaned down and kissed her, wishing he knew how to take away the pain of what he had to tell her.

  “No, baby, it’s still night. But I have something to tell you.”

  The tone of Jonah’s voice soaked into her consciousness. Within seconds, she was awake and sitting up.

  “What?”

  “The hospital called. It’s about Declyn. He’s had a stroke.”

  Macie closed her eyes, then covered her face, too afraid to ask the inevitable question. Jonah anticipated her fear and took her in his arms.

  “He’s not dead. But the nurse said the stroke was massive, and that he doesn’t know a thing.”

  Her voice started to shake. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have argued with—”

  “Stop right there!” Jonah said. “You didn’t do a damned thing to that old man that he hadn’t already done to himself. It was probably a blood clot. It’s common with gunshot wounds.”

  Macie listened, not sure if she believed Jonah, but wanting to—needing to—to be able to live with herself for the rest of her life.

  “I hate that this happened to him,” she said.

  “I know, honey, but it did. Do you want to go to the hospital to see him?”

  She was silent for a moment, and then she shook her head.

  “Not now. I was there twice before when he was conscious, and all he did was yell at me. If by some strange chance he might know who I am, it could make him worse.”

  “It’s your call. Maybe it’s better this way…at least for now.”

  Macie took Jonah’s hand, then threaded her fingers through his. His skin was warm, his grip firm but gentle, like the man himself. She kept trying to read what he was thinking, but he’d blocked off whatever emotions he was struggling with.

  “Are you going through with it…giving yourself up to Calderone’s man?”

  “It’s the only way.”

  Macie threw back the covers.

  “What are you doing?” Jonah asked. “It’s still night. Go back to bed.”

  “You expect me to sleep when I know what you’re about to do? Don’t be crazy, mister. I’m getting dressed, then I’ll make us some breakfast.”

  “It’s 3:00 a.m.”

  “Haven’t you ever had an early breakfast before?”

  He grinned.

  “I’ve had all kinds of things, baby, but not with you.”

  “Then it’s time you did,” she said, and reached for her robe.

  Macie was putting dirty dishes in the sink and Ruger was still gone when Collum McCallister arrived. It was a little after 4:00 a.m. Jonah took him straight up to his room, with only Macie as a witness to what was about to go down.

  Collum McCallister had been a Company man for twenty-six years and figured he’d seen about everything there was to see in his career. He knew Jonah Slade—had worked with him more than once—and had been more than happy to deliver the goods that Slade had requested from the director. But he was not able to hide his shock when Jonah asked him to keep the operation a secret—at least for now.

  “Damn, Slade, this doesn’t feel right,” Collum said. “What if something goes wrong? We won’t have the backup in place to help you.”

  Panicked, Macie couldn’t stay quiet.

  “Jonah…maybe you shouldn’t—” Then she saw the look on his face and stopped. “Sorry.”

  Jonah knew she was scared. So was he, but not of facing Calderone. What scared him most was the thought of finding his son alive and not being able to get him out and bring him home.

  “I have to, honey. You know that as well as I do, and what Collum brought is going to make it happen.”

  “But why are you doing this without telling Ruger or Carl?”

  He thought of Carl—his best friend for more years than he could remember.

  “I’d tell Carl, but he’s not here, and I don’t know when he’s coming back. I’ve left two messages on his voice mail, and he’s not answering, so…”

  Macie nodded. “I’m sorry for interfering. You’re the expert in cases like this. I’m just worried.”

  “So am I,” Jonah said. “But I’m more worried about Evan than ever now. Even though we have no proof that he’s still alive, I know he is. I also know that’s why Calderone wanted to get out of Lompoc.”

  Collum frowned. “Calderone’s out, all right, but he’s dead. How does that play into this?”

  Jonah shook his head. “I’m betting my life—and Evan’s—that Calderone isn’t dead but is somewhere readying himself to finish what he started. And now that he’s no longer behind bars, the time for waiting for the feds to find Evan is over. I’ve got to get to him before Calderone does.

  “What if he’s already there?” Collum asked.

  Jonah wouldn’t let that thought take root.

  “What if he’s not?” he countered.

  Collum grinned. “That’s what I like about you,” he said, and then pulled a small package out of the bag he’d brought with him. “This is what you wanted,” he said, and began shaking the wrinkles out of an ordinary-looking shirt.

  Macie frowned. “He brought you a shirt?”

  Jonah grinned. “Not just any shirt, right, Collum?”

  Collum arched an eyebrow. “Now why do I suddenly feel like Q in a James Bond movie?”

  “I don’t know,” Jonah said. “Because I damn sure don’t feel like 007.”

  “You’re better looking,” Macie offered.

  Jonah chuckled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  Macie’s smile turned into a smirk. “I thought there were other more obvious reasons than a compliment.”

  Collum grinned at Jonah. “I don’t think I ever saw you blush before.”

  “You still didn’t see it,” Jonah muttered, as he pulled off his own shirt and then put on the one Collum handed him. “It fits,” he said. “How does it work?”

  “It’s already working,” Collum said, pointing to the small clear buttons on the front of the shirt. “These ar
e state-of-the-art tracking units, but undetectable with any known debugging equipment. They activate the moment they’re pushed through the buttonholes.”

  “How do you track me?” Jonah asked.

  Collum pulled what looked like a small laptop computer from the bottom of his bag.

  “With this,” he said. “Let me boot it up and I’ll show you what I mean.”

  Macie leaned over Collum’s shoulder as the screen lit. With a few keystrokes, Collum had the program running.

  “See that little blip?” Collum asked, pointing to the right of the screen.

  Macie nodded.

  “That’s Jonah,” Collum said. “There’s just one drawback. I can only track you up to a distance of twenty-five miles. After that, you’re off the scope.”

  “So don’t lose me,” Jonah said.

  “Yeah, right,” Collum said.

  Still, Macie couldn’t let go of her fears.

  “What if you have car trouble? What if there’s a traffic jam? You know how California traffic can be. Don’t you think it would be better if you had a backup car?”

  “Not going to be in a car,” Collum said. “I’m going airborne.”

  “Can you use that tracking system and still fly the chopper?” Jonah asked.

  Collum nodded.

  “Then that’s good enough for me,” Jonah said.

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Macie said. “You’ll be in the air. What if there’s no place to land? How can you help Jonah if you’re up in the air?”

  Jonah slid a hand on the back of Macie’s neck. “He’s not going to be my rescuer, honey. He’s going to be the one who calls in the dogs.”

  “What?”

  “Once Collum sees where I’ve been taken, he’ll notify Ruger. They’ll take it from there.”

  “God,” Macie muttered, and turned her back on the men. “This is crazy. You’ve got dozens of feds at your disposal, as well as at least one more Company man, and you’re going to do this with only Collum as backup. How smart does that sound to you?”

  “Just being careful,” Jonah said.

  “That’s not careful, that’s suicide,” Macie argued.

  “He thinks we have a mole,” Collum said. “If he’s right, the mole won’t have time to alert Calderone that we’re on to him.”