by M. E. Logan
“Henderson.”
No one said anything.
“Henderson here.”
The captain broke the connection.
“Damn fool kids.” Henderson hung up the phone and went back to his paperwork.
***
There were no clear fingerprints on the note. She must have used gloves. Paper and pen could be bought in any store in town. The computer experts tried taking away the old woman’s voice to find the real one, but it wasn’t clear enough for any identification. The caller remained a mystery, but the information was enough to get them going on an investigation.
Even as officially the department sought the identity of the informant, Jessie privately, quietly, did the reverse. There was only one person in her life that she hadn’t known much of anything about. She tried to find Diana.
She put together everything she knew about Diana, and as Diana herself had once said, they knew precious little about each other. Diana had wanted it that way and Jessie had never questioned. Now she was handicapped. But Diana did know Nicki and certainly Nicki looked enough like Jessie that anyone seeing them would have guessed they were related. Diana knew the Bungalow. Had anyone seen her there recently? Wouldn’t Nicki have recognized her? Jessie didn’t even have a picture of her. Diana had never liked pictures.
Jessie didn’t know a hometown—hell, she didn’t even know a state. Diana had talked about a lot of places in ways that said she had more than just a passing familiarity with them. Rental cars, that meant a credit card. Avis was one, Jessie remembered. She talked about going to France, that meant a passport. She started with the broadest general search and found twenty people across the country. She found a courier service, bonding information. That would have explained the traveling. Then that company disappeared. That was in Pennsylvania. There was a gun permit in Texas. That was recent. She found residences, none current, in Atlanta, Detroit and then none. No phone. No cell.
She said she lived with her father, her mother was gone. Another dead end.
Jessie ran out of ideas to search. She even went to the police sketch artist who used a computer and tried to make a composite. She was dismayed to realize that she was forgetting what Diana looked like. She could remember her touch, could conjure up an image of her but details? Her eyes, slanted or did she just remember them heavy-lidded with desire? Her mouth, were her lips so full or swollen? Her breasts, oh, shit. Jessie turned away from her memories.
There was nothing she found to confirm. Or deny. And bringing back all those memories, all those times with Diana, made a stark contrast with Julie. She finally had to put it aside, but she couldn’t completely forget. The door had been opened and it was damn hard to shut.
Two months later, the bust was complete. Tracking Henderson had revealed sources, deliveries, a trail. It was a big bust and Jessie got credit. She wasn’t happy about it though, seeing someone she had worked with, had over for backyard cookouts, pulled details with, being arrested. Henderson paused at her desk before he was taken away. “Jessie,” he said, “the shooting. I wasn’t in on that. And it wasn’t personal.”
“It was to me.”
***
The phone call came on Wednesday night after Jessie had gotten home but before Julie did. She was tired and depressed and when the phone rang, she dreaded answering. This case had taken more out of her; in ways, even more than almost losing her life. She had survived, but everything in her life had been shaken to the core.
“All wrapped up?” The voice wasn’t an old woman’s this time. It was a young girl.
“Yeah.” Jessie fell onto the couch, too drained to be inquisitor.
“You sound tired. I’m sorry. It’s always hard to deal with betrayal.”
Jessie closed her eyes. Strange comment from someone who had to be on the inside. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” She didn’t care if it pissed her off.
“Sometimes you have to sit back and decide where your loyalties really lie. Sometimes it’s not easy.”
What the hell does that mean? If you’re inside…If you are Diana…? Jessie thought but couldn’t say. “Are you in danger?” she asked instead.
“Why Jessie, you sound concerned.” Jessie made no response and the woman went on, answering seriously. “Not yet, but it’ll be too dangerous to call again.”
She had to ask. If it was Diana, she had to know. “Why?” If it wasn’t, she still wanted to know why someone broke ranks for her.
“Choices. Don’t like seeing women cops killed.”
“Thank you, you saved my life,” Jessie said.
“You take care. It’s a rough world out there.” And then the connection was broken.
Jessie frowned, looking at the phone. Words and speaking patterns tugged at her memory, but she couldn’t say for certain. Familiar phrases but that only said it was a possibility, a possibility that chilled her.
When she did do a trace, the call was like previous ones, from a disposable cell phone, locally bought, cash payment. There was no way to trace it.
Chapter Eleven
Eighteen months later
Margaret supervised the last of the packing, her eyes going over the empty rooms. The furniture had gone on ahead, these last things were those she didn’t trust to the movers. There were the books, the jewelry, and the mementos from Diana’s travels. Diana had said they were not important, but they were to Margaret. She packed them with care, supervised the helpers carefully, and woe be to anyone who jostled any of the boxes or was careless enough to drop one.
Suitcases and trunks of clothing were packed and carried to the truck. Margaret checked behind to make sure everything was taken care of and nothing was left. All this in addition to her usual duties and she was tired and irritable, a trait well noticed by anyone working for her.
“Oh, leave it, Margaret. It doesn’t matter,” Diana had said again and again about any number of things when Margaret did ask her opinion. Soon Margaret stopped asking, but she watched her ward, her employer, her mistress with worried eyes. This was not a good move.
No one knew why the old man suddenly wanted to move. It was just an announcement one morning that the family would be moving to Lexington. She immediately looked to Diana, but the expression on Diana’s face revealed nothing. It was only the set of her mouth that revealed her distress. That and her remoteness, even more than usual, told Margaret of her distaste for this move.
Other than her increased smoking, her sullen silences, she was still Diana. Yes, Papa; no, Papa; of course Papa, like some meek, mild, deferential little girl. Margaret knew differently, so did several other parties who had mistakenly believed this woman who had no name, no rank in the Family, could be ignored when she made polite requests. They did not make that mistake twice.
Margaret shook her head as she watched Diana on the gallery smoking one cigarette after another as the trucks were loaded and pulled away. That she smoked so much was a sign of strain and inner turmoil. Margaret had hoped so much that her little girl would not grow into this business. She had been such a sweet child, so beautiful, so quick to love, such a sunny cheerful disposition. She had stayed out of it for so long. There was that time she thought Diana was leaving. She had her college degree; she had stayed clean. No one knew she was her father’s daughter. She could leave the Family, make her own independent life. She could be happy.
Then she had come back from Lexington and nothing was ever the same. She had accepted the position her papa offered, had carved out her own specialty. She started smoking, even started drinking more, not a problem, but she hadn’t before. She had stopped talking to Margaret. There was no joy in her heart. There was a hardness in her heart. Now her papa trusted her, depended on her. She was still Margaret’s princess but she was not the same. It was all because of Lexington, and now she was being directed back there. Margaret didn’t like it at all.
“Is everything ready?” Diana asked as she came in the door.
“The last box is being loaded,” M
argaret reported.
“Did you get the hotel reservations?” Diana asked as they pulled out of the driveway. She did not look back at the home she had lived in for several years.
“Suites at the Hilton.”
“I don’t want them at the Hilton. Change them.” There was a coldness, a finality in Diana’s voice.
“Where would you prefer?” Margaret asked carefully. She watched the trucks fall into line.
“Anywhere, just not there.”
“Very good. I’ll have Stella change them.” Diana rubbed her forehead, her temples. Margaret glanced at her passenger. “Why don’t you put your headphones on and lay back. We won’t be stopping for several hours.” Diana shook her head. She put her head back and closed her eyes. “I picked up that new book you wanted. It’s out on audio.” After several minutes of nonresponse, Diana put her hand out and Margaret reached into the bin and pulled the book out. She wasn’t sure if Diana really wanted to listen to the book or if she was just humoring her. It was enough that her princess was occupied. She eased onto the interstate and picked up speed. They were on their way.
***
Diana wound her way through downtown traffic. How convenient for Papa to spend Wednesday afternoons with his girlfriend. Convenient even if Diana found the idea unsettling. She found it hard to believe her no-nonsense papa would pick up and move to Lexington just to be near a woman. Not like him at all. Yet it gave her an advantage. She had Wednesday afternoon free. She didn’t have to worry about him calling for her or looking for her. She could be out on her own. And Papa always returned looking both tired and yet rejuvenated. So they were both happy.
She pulled into the parking lot finding a place in the shade where she could see the outdoor seating of the restaurant. She did not know why she did this to herself. If she hadn’t gone to the game at Rupp Arena and—well, she did. And if she hadn’t heard Jessie’s laughter, she knew it immediately, she would have run right into the woman. Just seeing her—fortunately Jessie had her head turned to listen to her companion and didn’t see Diana—had been a dash of ice water. She had thought, oh what difference did it matter what she thought. The fact was that now she was obsessed with Jessie. She followed her, she knew where she lived, where she ate, where she hung out. And where she had lunch every Wednesday afternoon.
She watched Jessie park her car on the street, get out and casually look over the traffic, before she headed for the café. And from the other direction, the hospital, Diana picked out the auburn-haired woman coming to meet her.
She took a deep breath as they went inside and within a few minutes, came out on the deck alongside the café. She frowned when Jessie sat in the corner, her back to the wall. Good strategic spot for her but Diana couldn’t see her.
This is foolish, Diana told herself, maddening even. Why? Why? Why? And then she waited because she knew why. Just for a glimpse. Just to see her walk down the street. Just to see that she was alive, to see her smile, to see her laugh.
Every time she left the compound, she said she wasn’t going to go looking. And sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes their paths just crossed. Once as she drove down the street where Jessie was working, Jessie even looked up, looked straight at her, and Diana knew she had to have seen her. Then her partner, must have been Pete, called her and she had turned away.
“This is madness,” Diana muttered to herself as she settled in to wait until they finished lunch. “Margaret would kill me if she knew.” Yet she waited, hungry just to see her again. “No more,” she told herself. “Last time. I’ll leave now, before she comes out.” But she made no move. “The last time, I swear it,” she promised herself as Jessie came out the door, looking around as she always did and then turning back to her companion. A quick air kiss and then she went to the car, unconscious of the hungry eyes that followed her.
Diana forced herself to remain in place as Jessie pulled away, and then she turned back to watch Jessie’s companion, lover, Julie. Were you really worth waiting for? She started the car and pulled out into the traffic. She stopped at the light, still watching Julie, unable not to, as she thought of all the questions she wanted to ask. Were they happy? Doctor and Cop, both high-pressure professions. Were they able to deal with that? Did Julie love Nicki or resent the little sister who was Jessie’s family? All the questions she just wanted to know answers to.
She saw Julie pause at the entrance and look up the street. Diana followed her gaze and frowned. A man was walking over from the parking garage. He raised his hand to wave and Julie waved back. Diana started, all thoughts of Jessie forgotten in her shock to see her papa come up to Julie, greet her with the charm that he was capable of and so seldom displayed. He held out his arm for her to take. As she slipped her arm around his and they walked into the clinic together, Diana stared at the sign identifying the Hematology Clinic.
“Oh, good God,” she said as the car behind her laid on the horn. “What am I going to do?”
Chapter Twelve
Margaret drove around New Circle Road. Ten months it had been and she still hated this place. Her princess stayed in the compound, hardly coming out at all. And there was so much to see, so many things Margaret would have liked if her princess had been happy. No, she might as well been in Atlanta or Chicago or Cincinnati for all she had been out in Lexington.
Margaret had taken on housekeeper duties, not wanting anyone else around Diana. Diana ran her businesses by computer, by phone, leaving on her monthly trips to do personal checks. And other things. Sometimes she took Margaret along and sometimes she didn’t. The times she didn’t were the times Margaret worried. And then there were the times Diana just disappeared. Margaret would come home and Diana would be gone. Margaret had no idea where she was. She wouldn’t answer the phone. Discreet inquiries revealed nothing. Diana would come back, brooding, silent, uncommunicative, depressed, angry. This was the dark part in Diana, it was growing since she had come to Lexington.
And Diana wasn’t the only strangely acting one. Her papa. A girlfriend at his age. Margaret had carefully tried to sound Diana out, but Diana would say nothing. Her only change toward her papa was she was more cooperative, doing favors for him that she usually would have argued with, challenged. Like this one for Waldo. Waldo was a piece of garbage from way back that Diana would have nothing to do with until now. And this was even after Margaret had heard that rumor about his vendetta against some local cop. She didn’t understand. She just knew all this was going to end badly.
***
“I’ll drive,” Pete said as they came out the door.
“Fine with me.” Jessie got in the passenger side.
They had been assigned to investigate a body found in an abandoned house on Georgetown Street.
“You okay? Things going any better?”
“About as well as I can expect.”
“Julie?”
Jessie shook her head. She still wasn’t ready to talk about Julie. Even after three months, she still couldn’t quite take in Julie’s announcement that they were over. All the counseling, her feeling they were working things out. How could she have been so wrong?
They pulled up in front of the house, looking around. Once a prosperous area, now the narrow street was showing its neglect. There were three houses boarded up, obviously abandoned houses across the street, another one two doors down from the one they were looking at, but the remaining houses on the block looked maintained well enough, cared for.
“Looks harmless, doesn’t it?” Pete said as they got out.
The single patrol officer came down off the front porch. “Glad to see you,” he greeted them, looking first Pete and then Jessie over as they showed their badges.
“Anyone come around?”
The officer waved a hand at one of the houses across the street. “Neighbor came over earlier, he was home for lunch. Mr. Stoaks. He said there’s been some squatters staying here lately. He sees them leaving in the morning when he goes to work. He works at the university, will
be home about four thirty.”
“Anything else?” Pete asked.
“Haven’t seen you around before,” Jessie commented, looking at his name plate. Vanderpool.
“Just started, ma’am, about a month ago.”
She nodded as she and Pete went up the steps and opened the door. They ducked under the yellow tape.
The house was empty, their footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. Scattered litter and trash were around the edges of the living room and there was a stack of firewood by the fireplace.
Pete was looking through his notes. “The body was found in the back, through the kitchen. There’s a bedroom in the back.”
They went through the house carefully. Just as Pete was turning to say something to Jessie, there was an explosion. She was knocked down by the force. She saw Pete down, heard yelling, more than one voice, then she was grabbed, felt a blow to her head.
She struggled to get her feet under her as she was dragged away. Sunlight briefly as she was dragged out the back door and thrown through the open door of the van in the alleyway. She still struggled and another blow to the head brought total darkness.
***
“What’s on the agenda?” Diana asked that morning. More and more she was letting Margaret do all the day-to-day duties. She was focused on another project and Margaret didn’t like being shut out. But she never said a word, never complained.
“Waldo Tompson.”
“Damn, I’ll be glad when he’s gone.”
Margaret made no comment. She had only a vague idea why Diana had taken this one on other than a favor to her papa. Tompson was a piece of garbage.
Traffic was terrible—not that she thought it was ever really truly terrible. Lexington was a small city in comparison to some places they had been. What was disconcerting were all the police cars moving around. That always made Margaret nervous and was something she had not noticed before. She saw the news headline in a kiosk when she stopped for gas, and she picked up the newspaper. She read it quickly as she walked back to the car. Now she understood all the police activity and it gave her an uneasy feeling.