by Polly Iyer
Reece swallowed hard. Seeing Frank this way turned his insides tight, and he rallied all his powers not to break down.
“Now, Lana made a good dinner. Then you two need some sleep. You had a long drive. She fixed up the second bedroom nice. Leave the keys and go eat. You’ll have a new car in the morning.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Dana said.
“No thanks. Go.”
“I don’t want Dana to go north with me,” Reece said.
Frank nodded almost imperceptibly. “Then she’ll keep us company. You play Scrabble, Dana?”
Dana stopped, her focus shifting from Reece to Frank and back to Reece. “Wait. I want to go. You need me to go.”
“I don’t need you to put your face out there. If I’m picked up, I don’t want you with me. If they don’t get me, they’ll be watching Carl. You can bet on it.”
“He’s right,” Frank said. “Listen to him.”
Dana groaned. “If both of you think it’s the right thing to do, I’ll do it.”
Lana said, “If Frank says it is, it is. Now come eat.”
The aroma in the kitchen made Reece’s mouth water. “Smells wonderful.” Lana had set the kitchen table with placemats, silverware, and cloth napkins. She put plates of food in front of them, and they dug in.
“Pot roast and potatoes, carrots and beets,” she said.
Reece swallowed a heaping forkful, “This is delicious.”
“Yes, it is,” Dana said. “You’ll have to give me the recipe so Reece can make it. I’m a terrible cook.”
“Even a terrible cook can make this,” Lana said. “You throw everything into a pot and it cooks itself. Easy as pie. I’ll write down the ingredients before you go.”
Reece gave Dana an affectionate pat on the arm. “Easy as pie.”
Dana stuck out her tongue playfully in return. “Maybe eating pie, not making it.”
When they finished, Lana took their plates, refusing help, and Reece and Dana joined Frank in the living room. He had put the nasal cannula in his nostrils and raised the leg part of the recliner. “Lana turned on the window air conditioner. It smells bad tonight.”
“Yeah,” Reece said. “What is that?”
“Brown algae,” Frank wheezed. “Crap covers the beach. Been here since before the Pilgrims landed, I read.” He paused to take a breath. “Geniuses at all the big universities around here can’t get rid of it. Stinks, but it keeps the rent down.” He rested before continuing. “Most days it’s clear and clean, nice enough to enjoy the ocean. After the smells in prison, this is a piece of cake. Nature, in all its glory.”
Reece agreed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Sleeping Giant
When they woke, Dana sniffed the aroma of freshly-made coffee wafting into the bedroom. “I could get used to this, if only it were under different circumstances.”
They showered, dressed, and tiptoed into the living room when they saw Frank in his chair. He was awake, but his hollow eyes indicated a man who’d never gone to bed. He tossed Reece a phone and a set of keys.
“It’s a black Honda Civic parked in front. The car’s clean. Don’t exceed the speed limit and you’ll be okay. The phone’s a throwaway. Can’t be traced. I have a new one too. Phone numbers are on the map on the front seat. No GPS. Sorry. Take these.” He handed Reece a cap and sunglasses. “Won’t hide you if they’re waiting, but it’ll keep others from seeing too much. Now have some breakfast and get going.”
Reece took them and nodded. “We’ll get some coffee and join you.” But Lana appeared holding a tray with two cups of black coffee. Reece crouched down and grasped onto Frank’s arm. “Thanks for all this, friend. Would you believe I’ve never had a cell phone?”
“I believe it.”
“I’ll keep in touch.” Reece finished his coffee. He smiled at Lana, who never strayed too far from Frank’s side, his watchful protector, the same way that Frank had been Reece’s.
Dana followed him down the hall to the front door of the building. “I feel like we’re Bonnie and Clyde, on the run.”
“I hope we don’t meet the same end.”
She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “Be careful.”
He pulled her close. “There are words I want to say, but I can’t say them. Words like I love you and I want you, but I’ll have to wait until this is settled.”
She met his gaze. “I can wait.”
“Can you?”
“As long as it takes. Now go or I won’t let you do this alone.” He left without turning around. She hurried down the hall before someone saw her, struggling to still her raging heartbeat. What chance would Reece have if the cops were waiting in Portland? If he managed to avoid them, would they be lurking somewhere on the street when he returned?
What if? What if?
She was running on adrenaline, staying with people she didn’t know, without a car, without escape. She slipped into the apartment, squashing the doubt that things might not work out, and saw Lana injecting Frank. Her stomach roiled. There were things worse than being caught, worse than prison.
“It doesn’t take long to work,” Frank said, “and then I’m okay for a while. Lana made you some breakfast. Go eat while this kicks in. When you finish, come keep me company.”
“I’d like that.”
Lana took her arm. “Come. Have you ever eaten blini? They’re the Russian version of pancakes.”
Dana followed Lana to the small kitchen. “I’ve had pancakes and blintzes, but never blini.”
Lana moved close as if she were imparting a state secret. “Blini are better. I made some this morning. Frank likes them with sour cream, but there’s jam if you prefer. I have eggs and coffee. Frank takes so much medication, we’re up at the crack of dawn and eat early.”
“I usually don’t eat much in the morning.”
“Breakfast is the most important meal. I’m from Kiev, but there’s a Russian saying—eat breakfast yourself, share dinner with a friend, but give supper to your enemy.”
“We have a similar one. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and dinner like a pauper.”
“Yes, same idea.”
Dana took last night’s seat. She watched the woman prepare a plate. Lana had working hands—strong, with thick fingers. Short light brown hair framed a round face with high, broad cheekbones and a flattish nose, and eyes that shifted from brown to hazel with the changing light, expressing emotions as clearly as if she verbalized them.
“I don’t know how to thank you for taking us in and putting yourselves at risk.”
“All I’ve ever heard from Frank is Reece this, Reece that. I’m happy to have a chance to meet him while Frank is still—”
She swallowed hard and didn’t complete the sentence.
“How long?”
Tears welled in Lana’s eyes, but she regained control quickly. Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup’s handle. “Three to six months, maybe less. Not more. He’s tough, but for once in his life Frank can’t beat something. It makes him angry. He’s not used to losing a fight.”
“No, I can see that.”
Frank’s weak voice filtered in from the other room. “I can hear you in there. If you’re talking about me, don’t.”
Dana returned Lana’s weak smile.
Stuffed, Dana pushed her empty plate aside. “Delicious. Thank you. Let me help you clean up.”
“I’ll do it. Go keep him company. He doesn’t like being alone for long.”
Dana went into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. All the years I took drugs, and now I can do it legally. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
Frank wiped his sleeve across his forehead and sighed. “So, are you in love with Reece? Don’t be coy.”
Dana marveled at Frank’s directness. One didn’t beat around the bush when life was a ticking time bomb. “Coy is not a
word that describes me. Yes. I’m in love with him. Very much.”
“Is he your soul mate?”
Dana thought. “Yes, if soul mate means sharing what’s in our hearts.”
“That’s what it means. Lana is mine. I never had one before. ’Course, I spent most of my adult life in prison.” He looked out the window. “Didn’t leave much time for love. But I love Lana, and I love Reece.” He must have seen the curious look on her face. “Not like that. Did you wonder?”
“He told me how you saved his life.”
“Did. You. Wonder?”
After professing not to be coy, that was exactly how she was acting. She knew what Frank meant. “Yes.”
“No, never. It wasn’t my style as long as I had two hands. Now, if someone cut them off, I might have reconsidered.”
Dana broke into laughter. “I can see why Reece loves you.”
“He taught me to read. Taught some others too. Ignorance breeds violence.” He paused, wheezing. “That kid taught an ignorant prick like me how to read. Can you believe that?”
“You don’t have to talk now.”
“When then?”
A silent moment passed between them, and Dana said nothing more.
“I was forty-seven years old. Ignorant as they come. I’m not now.”
“One is never too old to learn.”
“That was our deal. I got more than I bargained for. A whole world I knew nothing about.” He summoned his strength. “I never finished sixth grade. Didn’t learn shit then. Besides, I had to go out and earn money for my mother. Ten years old and I prowled the streets stealing and conning. I didn’t know any of the good stuff till Reece.”
Until Robert, Dana had led a sheltered, idyllic life, entrenched in her small mountain town, going to a nearby college. She couldn’t have conceived of a ten-year-old kid working the streets, but some of Robert’s cases exposed her to the dark side. And Robert demonstrated firsthand the ugliness that lurked behind closed doors in suburbia.
“So you protected Reece, and he taught you to read.”
“Yeah. Now I read all the time, like I’m playing catch-up. He was a good teacher. Patient and persistent.”
“I can see how he would be.”
“But that was only after he learned a few things he shouldn’t have had to learn.”
She met Frank’s gaze. He wanted her to ask, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“He told you about his first week?”
Dana’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t expect him to bring that up, but she’d learned that Reece and Frank said straight out what they thought and felt. “Yes. He held back some of the more graphic stuff, I think, but he told me enough.”
“Those cocksuckers.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Lana’s made me clean up my mouth, but I’m afraid some bad stuff still slips out.”
“I’ve heard worse. I married a man who thought cocksucker and motherfucker were perfectly acceptable words. Even in front of our children.” She buried the fleeting thought of how her sons must feel about their mother on the run with an accused murderer.
“See this?” Frank pointed to the scar across his throat. “Two of those same cocksuckers that took Reece came after me. Revenge.” Frank raised a finger, taking time out for a few slow breaths. “They bided their time, then snuck up on me like a bunch of snakes ’cause they could never take me in a fair fight. But Reece came up behind the one who sliced me and jammed his fist in the guy’s kidney. My boy had some heft to him back then. He’d lost some weight, but he weighed more than he does now. I was bleeding like a stuck pig and—”
Frank held a handkerchief over his mouth while a fit of barking coughs overwhelmed him. Lana rushed in from the kitchen with a glass of something. “Here, drink.”
Frank swallowed a gulp, then pushed it away. “God, that stuff is vile.”
“It’s good for you. Ukrainian remedy. Drink.”
He did, and it calmed the hacking. Handing back the drink, he said, “See what I have to put up with?” Lana turned to leave, but Frank caught her arm and pulled her down to kiss her. “Lady Macbeth. But I love her.”
Lana blushed and put the glass on the side table. She turned on the oxygen and placed the nasal cannula in Frank’s nose. “Don’t argue.”
“See, Dana, I’m a lucky man.”
“Yes, I believe you are.”
He struggled to reposition himself. “Where was I?”
“Are you sure you want to go on?”
He spoke through a slow, twisted smile. “Now or never.”
“Okay, then. You were bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“Yeah, right. So the other son of a bitch swiped a blade up Reece’s side.”
“Oh—” Dana couldn’t muffle the gasp. Now she knew why Reece never told her how he got the scar.
“Reece didn’t quit until he took down that bastard too,” Frank went on. “He learned fast. He’s quiet, but you know what they say about still waters.”
Yes, Dana knew from the beginning that Reece’s feelings ran deep from the beginning.
“Your man holds his anger inside, where it festers. But when it erupts, it’s something to see. It erupted that day. Blew like Mount St. Helens. He ripped off his shirt and pressed it to my throat. Blood poured out of him, but he kept on like he didn’t have this gaping slice down his torso.” Frank sighed. “We both almost died that day. Quarter inch more, and that asshole would have nicked my carotid artery. If it wasn’t for Reece, you’d be in someone else’s house right now.”
Dana started to say something when the doorbell rang. Frank and Lana exchanged glances.
“Who the hell is that? It isn’t Reece.” Panic crossed Frank’s face. “See who it is.”
Lana’s eyes darkened. She pressed the intercom button, hesitating. “Um, yes?”
“Police,” the voice announced. “We’re looking for Frank Vance. We have a warrant to search the premises.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
A Little Feather Ruffling
Harold County, North Carolina
Clarence woke late. His head felt like a bowling alley resided inside. All the liquor he had poured into his body the night before wasn’t sitting well in the light of day. He remembered going to his room and crashing as soon as his head hit the pillow. He’d call Jeraldine after he brushed his furry teeth and injected a pot of coffee directly into his vein. If he’d called last night, he wouldn’t have made much sense. It had been years since he’d drunk that much, and he wouldn’t do it again anytime soon. He checked his cell. Jeri hadn’t called him either. Maybe she didn’t speak to her source. He called room service and ordered coffee and a couple of slices of dry wheat toast.
He needed to research Harry Klugh. PI, my ass. Stroud made it sound like Klugh was a gun for hire. If he had to go to Atlanta to check him out personally, he would. In fact, the idea appealed to him. No better way to research.
After his bathroom chores, room service arrived with his order. This must be what junkies felt like when they needed a fix. He blew the steam off the top of his coffee, took the first sip, and followed with an appreciative sigh.
He connected with Jeri’s voice mail. “Hey, babe, give me a call when you’re free.” Ten minutes later she called back.
“Sorry, I had court, and my source didn’t call until early this morning. Okay, here’s the deal. Dana’s theory about Robert’s case in Charlotte was on the money. This is straight from the horse’s mouth. Though they couldn’t prove it, the bosses believed Minette was directly involved in the witness’s disappearance. He acted cocky, as if he had the case cinched when he clearly didn’t. Minette resigned and moved back to his home county with a job in the DA’s office. There must have been a deal, but no one knows what it was.”
“Stroud told me the same thing, only I think he has proof.”
“Will he talk?”
“No. Minette has something on him. I couldn’t get him to budge, and I tried. Can we talk to the boss?”
“I already went that route. He’s dead. Died a couple of years ago.”
“Sounds like Minette had something on the boss, doesn’t it?”
“Like Dana said. He wants to know where everyone’s bodies are buried. When he left the firm in Charlotte, he told his co-workers that he’d had enough of getting off guilty slugs. The case is old news, Clarence. Cold and dead. I doubt we could prove anything now unless we flip Stroud.”
“I’m sure you’re right. This fits Minette’s profile. He doesn’t lose well. Any other scandals?”
“Not that I’ve found. He made a name for himself in the DA’s office, and the governor appointed him to the judicial district encompassing Harold County. He’s not well liked, and some question his methods, but he’s put away some bad people, so the voters keep re-electing him.”
“Yeah, his methods. That’s what Minette is all about.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see the sheriff one more time, then I might detour to Atlanta to see what else I can dig up on Minette’s hatchet man. I have a contact there who’ll help if I need him.”
“You’ll fly home from there?”
“Unless I get sidetracked again.”
“Be careful.”
Clarence cut the connection and called Sheriff Payton to make sure he’d be in his office. Yesterday, when he drove to the Harold County Sheriff’s Office, Clarence thought it was way the hell out in no man’s land, and it took forever to get there. This time, he took in the scenery. The area, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, wound through small towns along forests, rivers, and lakes. He liked this area. The majestic, serene beauty beckoned him to return some day when he wasn’t on a case.
The sheriff had someone with him when Clarence arrived. After a few minutes Payton called him inside. Clarence took a seat. “I wanted to let you know what I found out before I took off, Sheriff.”
“I appreciate that. I’ve been conducting my own investigation, as any cop with two murders on his plate would do.”