No Safe Place

by Fitzwater, Judy

“About you?” I stared him straight in his enigmatic eyes. “I haven’t. James has Cara and Patrice.”

  The levity that had played about his features was suddenly gone. “When?” he asked, leaning in.

  I could feel his breath on my cheeks, but I wouldn’t draw back, regardless of how unnerving it was to have him so close to me.

  “Yesterday or the day before. I sent them to New Mexico. That’s where he found them.”

  “Damn,” he cursed, shaking his handsome head. He flung the peeled shrimp to the side of the table.

  I felt my own breath quicken, but I forced my words to remain steady. “My sentiments exactly.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I phoned their hotel room and James answered. He wouldn’t let me speak to Cara. I don’t know if she was even there.”

  He studied my face. “You want my help.”

  I swallowed hard, aware of the sheer power of the man. “I can’t do this alone.”

  He nodded. “It’s dangerous. James is a clever man.”

  “You know him.”

  “Yes, I know him.”

  “And you knew Stephen.”

  “Yes.”

  I steadied myself against the table. I’d known the answer, of course, yet hearing it out loud took me aback. I was playing a very dangerous game with a very dangerous man.

  “There was someone on the inside,” Ian continued. “Someone Stephen trusted betrayed him.”

  “Someone like you?” I, too, wanted so much to trust Ian.

  His expression told me he saw the conflict in my face. I tried to release the tightness I felt in my jaw. I didn’t want him to sense the adrenaline that was running through me. He put his hand over mine, and I pulled back. I would not fall into his charming trap.

  “Who are you working for? Who was Stephen working for?” I pushed.

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  My anger surged but I said nothing.

  “I sent him back to you, Elizabeth,” he said softly.

  I could tell he wanted to touch me, but he knew I wouldn’t tolerate it.

  “Do you think I’d have done that if he wasn’t my friend?”

  I studied him. I could almost have believed him, if my daughter’s life didn’t depend on it. “Maybe. Whoever killed him would need to dispose of his body. What easier way than to have him cremated under his own name and have his ashes returned to his widow?”

  “Burying it in a remote area is the first thought that comes to mind. No fuss, no bother. No questions. Do you have any idea how many people simply vanish every year?”

  I wondered how many bodies he’d buried. How cold a man was he? His eyes told me not as cold as his words might lead me to believe.

  “Or I could have had him cremated under the name of James Phelps without ever having involved you,” Ian went on. “But I couldn’t do that to you. I’ve watched you, worked beside you for almost three months.”

  I would not let myself be taken in by the velvet in his voice.

  “You held Patrice at gunpoint.”

  “I needed her cooperation. I certainly couldn’t allow her to involve the police. If there had been another way, I would have used it. I had no intention of harming her.”

  “You shot her dog.”

  “Animals can’t be reasoned with. I assume he made a full recovery.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “You put tracking devices on my car and on Cara’s.”

  He ignored my last comment as though he were tired of this game. “Elizabeth, you’re an excellent professor. You care about your students, and they, in return, respect you. I admire your command of your subject and your dedication to your students, to your daughter. When I asked you to have coffee with me, I wasn’t just—”

  “Stephen didn’t ski,” I said, cutting him off. He didn’t have to make nice with me. I wanted his help, nothing more.

  “I know.”

  “How did he die?” I asked.

  He leaned back in his chair and drew in a deep breath, never once taking his eyes from mine. “I found his body in his room.”

  Ian shared that room.

  “There was no evidence of a break-in or of a struggle,” he went on. “I assume Stephen opened the door to whoever it was that knocked.”

  “He trusted him or he wouldn’t have turned his back,” I said.

  “Stephen wasn’t careless.”

  “He trusted you,” I added.

  He nodded. “As I trusted him.”

  “James was there with the two of you.”

  “Yes.”

  “If he killed Stephen, why didn’t he search his body then, instead of stealing it later?”

  “I’m sure he did, but a more thorough examination for an implanted microchip would have taken more time. James must have heard me coming back before he’d finished. After I discovered the body, I didn’t let it out of my sight until I was certain everything was taken care of.”

  Ian had taken Stephen out onto the snow, dressed him in some sort of parka, strapped skis to his boots and let him freeze. What kind of man was capable of that? I forced the image out of my mind.

  “I foiled your plan by canceling the cremation,” I said.

  “You did indeed.”

  All he said made sense, but I refused to let myself trust him, regardless of how much I wanted to. “I still have only your word.”

  “That’s all I have to offer.”

  An honest answer.

  “There was no microchip,” he assured me.

  “You looked, too.”

  Again, he nodded.

  “Where were you when Stephen was murdered?”

  “I was…otherwise occupied.”

  “With the judge? Edward Donovan?”

  “We met with Donovan, yes.”

  “Why?”

  I could see him weighing what to say. For a moment I held my breath. I thought he might actually tell it all. But then his eyes clouded over.

  “I don’t think you—” he began.

  “I don’t care what you think,” I spat out. “You staged Stephen’s death. Then you called in someone to pose as a police officer, and someone else to play the role of coroner and sign a death certificate. Maybe Donovan helped you with that one.”

  I could see that I had surprised him.

  “It seemed the safest and most humane choice. An investigation wouldn’t have been wise.”

  “You told the funeral director you and Stephen were brothers.”

  “In many ways we were. Stephen and I have worked together for years.”

  I tried to rein in my own surprise. Stephen had introduced me to James but not to Ian. Why?

  “How long have you known Peter Hirsch? You intercepted my e-mail to him.”

  “Actually, he forwarded it to me. The two of us were Stephen’s friends.”

  “Friends or colleagues?”

  “Whichever you prefer. Stephen asked me to watch over you while he was working this last case.”

  “Case,” I echoed. A “case” involving Edward and Will Donovan. Ian had already told me more than Stephen had in all our years of marriage.

  “That’s why I moved my base of operations to Maryland,” Ian continued. “He was afraid for you. Once I’d met you, I understood why. You’re an extraordinary combination of strength and vulnerability.”

  Afraid for me? Why would Stephen have been afraid for me? Why now more than before? Of course. Because Ackerman was involved. I swallowed my reaction and concentrated instead on Ian’s words.

  “You don’t know me,” I insisted, defiant that he would have the gall to try to analyze me.

  “You’re right. I don’t, despite my best efforts. I only knew Stephen.”

  If his intent was to make me feel we had something in common, it backfired. I couldn’t help resenting anyone who was privy to the life that Stephen hid from me.

  “Tell me what the three of you were doing and what Edward Donovan has to do with all of this,” I demanded.

/>   “I’m not at all certain that would be wise.”

  I’d had enough. “Why? Because it might put me in more danger?” I leaned forward, no longer concerned about his nearness. “News flash—the only thing I care about in this world is already in danger. Get this straight, Ian, or whatever the hell your real name is. There will be no more lies or strategically omitted information. I will find my daughter, and you will tell me what’s going on, or I’ll blow off you kneecap right here and now.” I nudged his leg under the table with the gun that I’d taken from my holster.

  For a second he looked startled, then his features relaxed into a half smile. “You truly are an amazing woman.”

  I nudged his knee again.

  “You don’t want to make a scene,” he insisted, losing his smile.

  “Not unless I have to. You don’t mess with a woman and her child and think you can get away with it.”

  Threatening the life of a man like Ian would hold little sway, but threatening his mobility—now that made him take notice. His eyes steeled. I think he was afraid I might actually be crazy enough to pull the trigger. Maybe I was.

  “That damn dog should have bitten me twice,” he stated, “to remind me again never to underestimate you.” He saw my eyes narrow, and I saw something change in his face, a new resolve. “You’ve heard of Will Donovan.”

  I nodded.

  “He’s not dead.”

  “And you know this because…”

  “Because Stephen Larocca made him disappear.”

  Chapter 18

  For a moment I couldn’t breathe. I knew it was possible. Everything I’d learned pointed to Stephen’s having done exactly that, but it seemed so incredible. And now all I could think of was Edward Donovan, who had just lost his wife and whose son might still be alive. Will was the leverage Ackerman needed to influence the judge presiding over his trial. He was also why Donovan wanted information from me. Stephen had hidden Will, and Donovan had no idea where he was.

  If it was true. If Will was still alive. If Cara’s wish that he were alive had been right all along…

  “Keep talking,” I said.

  Ian leaned in, his voice low, conspiratorial, seductive.

  “There was a threat made against Judge Donovan.”

  “Because…”

  “He’s presiding over Nicholas Ackerman’s trial.”

  I had deduced that much already, but I wanted Ian to confirm what I thought I knew.

  The waiter placed our entrees in front of us, and I slipped the gun back into its holster. I’d ordered the oriental chicken salad. He’d ordered the prime rib. Ian cut a piece of steak and put it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before he went on. Impeccable manners.

  “More wine?” he asked.

  I shook my head, and he refilled his glass. I had no time for manners, and I needed to keep my mind clear. “Go on.”

  “Ackerman has created an empire in Denver. He owns an estimated third of the businesses downtown.”

  “That’s no crime,” I pointed out.

  “No. But drug smuggling, money laundering, you-name-it are.”

  “How does he get away with it?”

  “Charges are brought and dropped. The few times he’s actually gone to trial, witnesses have recanted or judges and juries have been tampered with. He’s up on intimidation and bribery charges. Donovan’s untouchable and Ackerman knows it. Donovan sequestered the jury from the beginning. He’s determined to get him this time.”

  “And so was Stephen,” I added, more to myself than to Ian.

  My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what Ian was saying. To make the father comply, put the child in danger.

  “So Ackerman threatened Donovan’s son, Will.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And when the son couldn’t be found, the threat was redirected at the wife. Who do you work for?” I asked again, determined this time to get an answer.

  I watched him stiffen. It was the question Stephen would never answer.

  “Peter Hirsch.”

  I frowned. I knew they were connected, obviously, but could Peter actually be directing the operations?

  “Peter’s a federal judge,” I pointed out.

  “With a private agenda. Witness protection doesn’t always work, you know. Sometimes it’s necessary to take witnesses completely out of the system to keep them safe. They disappear before trial, then reappear to give their testimonies. If all goes well and the threat to their safety disappears, they are returned to their communities after trial.”

  “If not?”

  “Then they’re relocated for as long as it takes.”

  “Sometimes permanently,” I said.

  “Yes. But not often.”

  There it was, in the open at last. The secret Stephen had taken to his grave. Ian had trusted me with it. If he was telling me the truth.

  “Who finances this?” I asked.

  “Various sources. Frequently the individuals themselves, but Peter’s been most fortunate in his investments.”

  “Will Donovan was not a witness,” I said.

  “Not all the people we help disappear are.”

  “I can’t believe Peter would let Stephen…” I started, dazed.

  For Stephen to be involved with anything to do with Ackerman would be risky considering how much Stephen hated him for what he did to Josie. Peter would know that.

  “Peter warned off Stephen, told him to let someone else assist Donovan. This one was personal for Stephen, as you seem to know, and letting something become personal is the easiest way to get killed. Once Ackerman actually put out the hit on Donovan’s son, Stephen felt he had no choice.”

  “Nick Ackerman ordered Will Donovan’s assassination,” I stated.

  My sister had married a monster. My poor Josie.

  I picked up my wineglass and drained it. It burned my throat and brought me back.

  “Considering the venom Stephen felt for Ackerman,” Ian said, “I believe he would have killed him bare-handed if he’d ever been in a room alone with him. What did Stephen have against him?”

  Stephen, after all these years, you still hated him, hated him with the same all-encompassing passion that I felt for him. But you never once mentioned Nick’s name to me since Josie died.

  I cleared my throat. “All that matters is that Stephen offered Donovan his help.”

  “Yes. And the younger Donovan vanished.”

  Leaving his mother to grieve. Stephen, did you once think of her? Maybe you couldn’t afford to.

  “Where did he hide him?” I asked.

  Ian lay down his fork. “I don’t know. Only the operative directly involved in the relocation knows where the subject is hidden. Did he tell you?”

  I almost choked. “No. Is that what you thought? Is that what you want from me?”

  “I don’t want anything from you, Elizabeth, except to know that you’re safe.”

  That was a lie. I wouldn’t soon forget that he shot Odin with a tranquilizer dart and held Patrice at gunpoint. He’d asked for the envelope at Patrice’s. He knew I had it, and I knew he wanted it. The question was, would Stephen want me to give it to him?

  “Then what am I? Organization business?” I asked.

  “No. As I said, Stephen—”

  “You’re not chasing after me out of the goodness of your heart.”

  He brushed his napkin across his lips and then lowered it again to his lap. “Your safety has been bought and paid for, Elizabeth.”

  I touched my napkin to the top of my lip. I didn’t want him to see the sweat I felt beading there or the blush I felt coloring my neck. “By whom?”

  “By Stephen.”

  I swallowed my shock. “How much?” I managed.

  “Is this really necessary?”

  “Yes, I think it is. How much?”

  “One million dollars, the usual fee.”

  I felt staggered. Was it actually possible Stephen had that kind of money? I knew even less than
I thought I had about my husband.

  “How did he get the money?”

  “It was an insurance policy,” he said.

  With Ian as the beneficiary. Another motive for murder? Ian could have killed Stephen to collect. But if he had, why was he here? Why hadn’t he taken the money and left?

  Because he wanted the envelope.

  Another thought suddenly entered my mind: a second explanation for returning Stephen’s body for burial. To collect on the policy, the insurance company would have insisted on proof of death.

  “So you do this for the money,” I said evenly.

  He swallowed a sip of wine. “Of course. I like money and the things it can buy.” He refilled my glass and raised his to me.

  I had to fight to keep from throwing mine in his face. Yet there was something about his manner that made me doubt his words.

  “So your mission is to make me disappear, too?”

  “No. To make certain you’re safe. And to avenge Stephen’s death. That one I’ve thrown in at no charge.”

  “How chivalrous of you. Two for the price of one.”

  The steel was back in his eyes, reminding me I was dealing with no ordinary man.

  “I want Ackerman. He ordered Stephen’s death, but I want the operative who did this killing first, the one who belonged to our organization, the one who was turned. He’s looking for Will Donovan, and he needs you to find him.”

  “James,” I said.

  He nodded.

  “Why hasn’t Will already surfaced? I would think once he heard of his mother’s death…”

  He frowned and I knew he’d already been asking himself that question. Could Will already be dead?

  “That’s a question we need to answer. As long as Will remains hidden, you and Cara will be safe,” he assured me. “Once he’s found…”

  “We’ll no longer be of value to James.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know where Will is,” I said evenly. “Why do they think I do?”

  “Nothing was found among Stephen’s belongings. Nothing on his body.”

  “The autopsy—”

  “It wouldn’t have been an actual autopsy, although I can see why the Y-shaped incision would have been made to confuse authorities if the body was ever found. Families are rarely notified if a buried-at-sea resurfaces. An autopsy incision eliminates the possibility of death from foul play.”