by Dee Davis
"You said I'm perfectly safe. And it's a lot more important for you to get to the bottom of this. I won't really be able to rest easy until those guys are behind bars, you know?"
"Yeah. I do." Andy frowned. "It's just that I really hate the idea of leaving you on your own."
"You won't be. Grand Central is full of people. And you already said that no one is chasing me. I'll be fine. Really"
They got up and walked out of the diner. The cold wind whipping down Lexington reminded Jenny she didn't have a coat.
"You're freezing. Take this." Andy shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She pulled the coat around her, grateful for its warmth.
Andy hailed a cab and, miracle of miracles, one stopped almost immediately. He gave the driver instructions, then opened the back door, stopping Jenny as she started to slip inside.
"I'll be out there as quickly as I can. In the meantime, don't contact anyone. Just stay put, and call me immediately if anything seems off or out of place."
Jenny nodded and attempted a smile, but the result was more of a lopsided grimace. "I'll be okay. And I'll call if I need anything. You just find out who killed Sandy."
She slid onto the cab's vinyl seat, the door slamming firmly behind her. As the taxi pulled away, she turned to look back. Andy was already striding down the street, talking urgently with someone on his cell phone.
Her brain clicked, a memory surfacing, and she realized she hadn't mentioned the phone call at the apartment. Leaning back against the seat, she closed her eyes, the voice echoing through her mind. It teased her with its familiarity.
Get out... get out....
And Jenny wondered if she'd truly forgotten to tell Andy, or if maybe she'd held on to the information for reasons of her own.
CHAPTER THREE
The train was only about half-full. Jenny had purposely chosen a fairly crowded car, preferring the company of strangers. However, she drew the line at sharing a seat, and so she sat next to the window with Andy's jacket occupying the space next to her.
The night flashed by with only occasional bursts of light, the Hudson River illuminated by a soft swath of moonlight. A hunter's moon. Jenny shuddered, the thought hitting too close to home.
No one in the car seemed the slightest bit interested in her, but she couldn't help watching them. Most weren't suspect, either women or kids. Not that women or kids couldn't be involved, but Jenny figured if anyone was following her, it was most likely one or both of the men who had been in Connor's apartment. There was a lone male at the head of the car, but he was older and balding, and he hadn't looked up from his newspaper once since boarding the train.
So, for the moment at least, she felt safe. Sort of.
Andy's revelations were still eating at her. Loyalty to Connor, no matter their marital situation, was warring with the facts as Andy had laid them out. Cops went bad all the time. Especially when they did undercover work. The temptation was often more than they could handle. But not Connor. If he'd been going to cross the line, he'd have done it a long time ago.
And he hadn't.
Which meant that there had to have been something else, some motivating factor that explained his actions. Either that, or Andy was wrong. But Andy had mentioned IAD, and that gave the story a thread of legitimacy Jenny couldn't ignore. Closing her eyes, she felt the swaying of the train as it slowed. Two more stops and she'd be home.
The train lurched to a stop, and the woman in front of her got up to leave, gathering sacks full of Christmas gifts, the red and green wrapping paper sending a wave of longing through Jenny. Christmastime had always been her favorite part of the year. It was a time of joy and celebration.
Until last year—when she'd been left to celebrate alone.
Perhaps it had been the stress of the season, or maybe the burdens had finally become too great, but the joy had gone out of not only the season but the marriage. And when Connor had chosen work over home and hearth yet again, Jenny had had enough. She’d asked him to leave, a fit of anger making her judgment less than solid. If she’d only held her tongue, let him stay, maybe none of the rest would have followed. Maybe he wouldn't have turned to someone else. Maybe she'd still have a husband.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd still be alive.
She knew somewhere in the sensible recesses of her mind that she wasn't alone in what had transpired; that her actions, although emotional, had been reasonable. Besides, if Connor had wanted to make amends he could have. But he hadn't.
And now he was gone. Nothing was going to change that fact. Not blaming herself, and not wishing for do-overs. Reality was here on this train, and the sooner she accepted that, the sooner she could go on with her life.
Assuming she made it through the night.
Pulling her thoughts away from the past, she searched the train again, surprised to find that a number of new people had entered. A man and his son now sat directly in front of her and an elderly woman flanked her in the seat across the aisle.
She twisted slightly to view the back of the car. Two teenagers were necking three seats back, their obvious attraction blocking out all other distractions. Behind them a man was reading a magazine, the cover blocking his face.
Jenny shivered, something about him seeming familiar. Turning to face front again, she couldn't stop the feeling that the man was watching her, his eyes boring into the back of her head, but when she turned surreptitiously to check, his face was still hidden behind the magazine.
She swallowed her fear and purposefully sucked in a deep breath. The motion was intended to calm her, but it didn't. So with a sigh of resolution, she stood up and made her way to the front of the car, not daring to look behind her.
She pushed through the doors and across the platform connecting the cars, and on into the next coach. This one was more sparsely populated. An elderly gentleman slept with his head against the window, and two toddlers played with Barbies next to a harried-looking mother.
Jenny walked to the front of the car and slid into an open seat, this time on the side opposite the river. Trees and rocks whizzed past as the train picked up speed, and slowly Jenny's breathing returned to normal.
For all she knew Andy had already apprehended the killer. Maybe it was all over.
Then she shook her head at her flight of fantasy. If Andy had any news, he'd have called her. She reached for her purse, thinking that maybe she should call him, but managed only to knock it out into the aisle.
Obviously, she was more spooked than she wanted to admit. With a sigh, she reached over to retrieve her bag, and her gaze fell automatically on the back of the car as she straightened. The man with the magazine had moved.
She couldn't be absolutely certain, of course. But she'd swear it was the same magazine. And the same hands holding it. Like before, his face was hidden behind the pages, but Jenny shivered nevertheless, her mind filling in the features of the man who'd killed Sandy.
The train slowed, pulling into Cold Spring, but Jenny knew she couldn't get off. She couldn't possibly lead the man to her home. Besides, the tunnel between the station and the town would be dark and deserted at this time of night. It had scared her as a kid. Heck, it had even worried her a bit as an adult. Now, with real reason for fear, she knew that it would be foolhardy to try.
Instead, she'd call Andy and stay on the train.
Careful not to look behind her, she walked out of the car as if she were going to detrain. Moments stretching like hours, she waited until she heard the hiss of the train starting again, then dashed through the doors into the next compartment. Without looking right or left, she continued forward through three more cars until she reached one that was almost completely full.
She sat down on the edge of a three-seater already occupied by an elderly woman and what was probably her daughter. The two of them smiled at her, and Jenny smiled back automatically, grateful for the company.
Surely she'd be safe now until they reached Poughkeepsie.
The con
ductor appeared at the front of the car, working his way back toward her seat, and Jenny fumbled with her wallet, extracting enough money for the additional fare. It was tempting to tell the conductor that she thought she was being followed, but since magazine man had not appeared in this car, she felt foolish raising a ruckus about something that might very well have been her imagination.
Instead she paid the conductor, and with another smile at the two ladies next to her, pulled out her cell phone to call Andy. She punched in the numbers and waited as the phone rang and rang. Finally an automated voice announced that she was being transferred to voice mail. With a sinking stomach, she left a message saying only that she was detouring to Poughkeepsie.
The two women had ceased chattering and were eyeing her with interest, and Jenny again had the urge to share her fears; but the thought of Sandy dead on the floor stopped her. No sense in getting anyone else involved.
After a quick check to be sure that magazine man hadn't followed her, she leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, letting the gentle sway of the train soothe her mind. All she had to do was get out at the busy Poughkeepsie station and stick with the crowds until she could get hold of Andy.
Maybe he was already on his way to Cold Spring.
The idea cheered her immensely, and she breathed easily for the first time since Connor's apartment. All she had to do was keep her wits about her and hang tight. Andy would take care of things. Connor had trusted him.
And quite possibly betrayed him.
Andy and Connor had worked together from the moment they’d been assigned to Vice. The two seemed the perfect team. But looks could be deceiving. Jenny knew that better than most.
When she and Connor had split up, no one had been able to believe it. They’d been the perfect couple. The one that everyone had wanted to emulate. But that had been a lie, too. And maybe Connor's secrets had played a bigger part than she'd realized.
She shook her head against the vinyl train seat, her mind still refusing to believe that Connor had turned. There had to be something more. Something even Andy wouldn't know. But of course there was no way to find out for certain. The only one who could have told her the truth was Connor. And he was dead.
The train loudspeaker crackled to life, the conductor announcing Poughkeepsie—the end of the line. Jenny gathered her things, turning to pull on Andy's jacket, and her heart stutter-stepped as she recognized magazine man. He was back, this time only a few seats away.
Her mind scrambled for a plan of action. She ought to be safe in the crowds, but the idea of sharing any space at all with this guy was more than a little frightening. Complete escape was a much more comforting option.
She chewed on her lip, trying to come up with something solid, some way to get away And again, as if he were sitting next to her, Jenny heard Connor's voice in her head.
Five-second slip.
It was a game they'd played in high school, one of those adolescent larks that served to stimulate adrenaline. The train to Poughkeepsie pulled in at the same time that its sister train pulled out, heading back to New York. If one exited the right car at the right time, it was possible to get off one and onto the other before it pulled away.
Jenny had been horrible at the game, never quite managing the proper sequence to guarantee success. At last, Connor had helped her. He'd wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and with his breath warm against her cheek, he'd pushed her off at just the right moment, still holding her hand as they'd dashed across the platform and through the closing doors on the other side.
The exhilaration had come not only from her success, but from Connor's nearness, the feeling that the two of them were one against the world. Jenny felt tears rising, and she angrily dashed them away. There was no sense in letting emotion hold sway. It would only get in the way of keeping her safe.
Resolute in her decision, Jenny stood up and made her way to the back of the car, passing the man with the magazine along the way. He didn't look up from the pages, but she was fairly certain he tensed, and seen from this angle, he seemed familiar—not the man who'd held the gun. But maybe he was the other one.
She couldn't be certain, and she wasn't about to take a chance.
She hadn't done the five-second slip in years. Heavens, she wasn't even certain the trains would be running the same, but it seemed worth a try. If she made it, she'd buy herself some time. Maybe she'd even throw the man off altogether. There was no reason to believe he knew where she was headed.
Anyway, once she was on familiar ground at Cold Spring she'd feel better. The police were going to be watching over her, and Andy was on the way. All she had to do was pull off the maneuver and everything would be fine.
She started to count train cars, knowing that it was crucial she find the right one. The overlap had to be almost perfectly lined up. A straight shot across the platform was her only chance. Finally she stopped, certain now that she had the right place. Behind her, she could see magazine man making his way through the car, his gaze searching, his face tight with determination.
At least now she was certain of the truth. The man wasn't a figment of her overworked imagination. He was after her. And she had no doubt what the end result would be.
The train lurched as it pulled into the station, and the man stumbled, giving Jenny a few seconds lead. The doors slid open, and she stepped out, already sprinting across the platform. The other train beckoned, its car door still tantalizingly open.
She counted under her breath, hitting midway on three. A porter with a cart of luggage moved across her path, and Jenny's heart rate ratcheted up a notch, but she swung to the right, missing the man by inches. He shouted at her, but she didn't dare stop, leaping the final few feet between the platform and the train. The doors were already beginning to slide shut.
She barked her shin on the edge of the door, but made it, the blissful hiss of the closing doors sending shivers of relief flashing through her. She could still see magazine man. He was standing on the platform searching the crowd, trying to pick her out among the other holiday revelers.
She smiled and waved her fist in the air.
Turning, she made her way into the car and slid into a seat, her heart still pumping with the rush. The moon still shone over the Hudson, its silvery rays rippling across the black water. Jenny closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax. At least for the moment, she was safe.
Score two for the deer.
*****
"This was supposed to have been a simple retrieval. CYA all the way." Nico Furello clenched the edge of his desk as he tried to control his temper. "Instead, we've got two dead people, a woman on the run, and no fucking information."
"Two dead?" Andy Proctor frowned. "Who besides Sandy Markham?"
"Reggie was a liability" Nico shrugged. "The Fitzgerald woman saw him."
"Jesus, Nico, there's going to be a trail of blood a mile long."
"No way. We disposed of Reggie, and Sammy took care of the Markham woman." He watched Andy for signs that the man was regretting his choice of allegiance. It had been a risk bringing him in in the first place—a necessary one, but still a risk. Add to that the man's nosy partner, and the problems had increased tenfold.
But at least Connor Fitzgerald was no longer a threat.
"I assume the bodies went the same way?" Andy lifted his eyes to meet Nico's, and Nico was relieved to see the gaze was steady. "No one's going to find them?"
"No fucking way. Which means we're in the clear as soon as we take care of Jenny Fitzgerald." Nico sat down, not certain whether he was relieved or just exhausted. In the past month, his carefully laid scheme had nearly unraveled. He'd worked long and hard to make a move away from his father. To set up his own line of distribution. And if he failed—if his father discovered what he'd been up to—well, there'd be more than hell to pay. His life wouldn't be worth a nickel. Anthony Furello would see to that. Nobody crossed the old man, not even his firstborn.
"You talked to her. How much do
you think she knows?" Nico asked after a moment.
"Not much." Andy shook his head. "She was scared to death, but she didn't have any idea what was really going on."
"So what'd you tell her?"
"That Connor was on the take, and that maybe someone from his past was searching for something."
"You think that's wise?"
"I think she needed something more than 'it was a robbery.' And we've been planning to pin things on him anyway. I don't see that his being dead need alter that."
Nico studied the cop, wondering what flaw in his character allowed him to betray his partner. In Nico's world people were betrayed all the time, but never without provocation. There was a code, and though most people wouldn't condone it or even understand it, it existed. In his father's case, maybe it was a little outdated.
But Andy Proctor obviously had no such code.
Nico sighed. Whatever the man's motives, they weren't something he was going to lose sleep over. As long as Andy Proctor remained useful, he'd stay alive. If things changed, so be it. It wasn't as if Nico owed him anything.
The phone rang, and Nico reached for it, checking caller ID to see who it was. "So, Sammy, tell me something good."
"Not gonna happen." Sammy's voice held a note of frustration.
"You lost her." Nico met Andy's gaze across the desk, shaking his head.
"Yeah. Bitch just vanished. One minute I had her, and the next she was just gone. No idea what the hell happened."
"You've searched the area?"
"Twice. She ain't here, believe me." Sammy blew out a sigh. "What do you want me to do?"
"Hang tight. I'm with Proctor. Let me see what he thinks and then I'll call you back with instructions."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and finally a grunt of acceptance. Nico replaced the phone in the cradle, his face tightening with anger. "He lost her."
"So I gathered." Andy nodded, his face dark with anger. "What I don't understand is how the hell it happened. I told you she was heading for Cold Spring."