The Common Thread

by Jaime Maddox

  With loyalty like that, Jeannie was understandably reluctant to retire and sell her practice. Yet she was constantly pulled by her desire to spend more time with Sandy. The solution was to take on a business partner, someone who’d share her passion and commitment, and her workload. It had to be an exceptional person, for she wouldn’t subject her staff to abuse from someone lacking social skills, or her patients to someone who couldn’t properly care for them. The search wouldn’t be easy, and she needed to be patient until the right person came along.

  A clicking behind her caught her attention, and she turned to see Sandy sliding the glass door open. They smiled as their eyes met. It’d been almost a year since they rekindled their old romance, and both still melted at the sight of the other.

  “Hi, there, beautiful. How was your workout?”

  Sandy bent and kissed Jeannie softly on the lips, then took a seat in the chair beside her. “I think it was an even exchange.” Handing a coconut-crème Danish to Jeannie, she took a bite from a second one and swallowed it. “There’s about three hundred calories in this, so I did three hundred calories’ worth of exercise. I broke even.”

  Jeannie’s eyes twinkled as she looked at the woman she loved, and her auburn hair shimmered in the morning light as she pushed it back behind her ear. “Yes, but the cardiovascular benefits go way beyond calories.”

  “That’s my thinking, too.” She grinned and took another bite, then sipped from Jeannie’s coffee.

  Jeannie took a bite of the pastry and moaned. “I think I’m in trouble living so close to all this good food. Unlike you, the only calories I’ve burned today have been on breathing. I’m only allowed about half a bite of this.”

  “I could help you burn some off,” Sandy suggested.

  Jeannie ran the big toe of her left foot along the inside of Sandy’s leg, from the top of her sock to the bottom of her running shorts, and then teasingly rubbed it along the hem.” I think I’ll be in the mood for burning calories tonight.”

  Sandy groaned. “Don’t we have dinner plans this evening?”

  “Ah, yes, we do. But I have no plans for after dinner.”

  “Well, then, after dinner it is. Anything exciting happening in the world?” Sandy nodded toward the paper folded in Jeannie’s lap.

  Jeannie handed her the sports section. “We’re going to need boots for our trek around Merion.”

  “As long as we don’t need umbrellas, I’m game.”

  Scanning the front page, Jeannie nodded. Two female Swarthmore students were part of a fledgling campaign to change the way colleges across the country responded to reports of sexual assault. That was good news. The Justice Department was preparing to file charges against Edward Snowden for leaking confidential government information, Boeing had won a huge U.S. Army contract, and a drug dealer had been shot in the Northeast. As Jeannie scanned the article about the shooting, she gasped. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed.

  “What?” Sandy sat forward, startled.

  Jeannie looked up from the news and met her gaze. “Katie’s in trouble.” Handing the paper to Sandy, Jeannie reached for her cell phone and quickly dialed Katie’s number.

  “Holy shit,” Sandy exclaimed as she read the details of Billy Wallace’s shooting. The article mentioned that the police were looking for Katie Finan as a person of interest in the slaying.

  Hopeful that Katie would answer her call, Jeannie listened helplessly as the phone rang unanswered and then diverted to voice mail. “Katie, it’s Jeannie. I heard the news and I’m just checking on you. You know my numbers if you need me. I’ll be at the clinic by nine. Call on the private line. Call no matter what. I want to know that you’re safe.”

  “Wow!” Sandy said.

  “Yeah. I didn’t even know he was out of jail.”

  “Is she with him? I thought things were developing with Jet.”

  Jeannie looked up and clasped her hands in relief. “Jet! She might be with Jet!” Jeannie dialed the number and this time was rewarded with an answer. It wasn’t the voice of the confident woman who ran her office, though. This voice sounded tired and strained. Obviously, she’d heard the news.

  “Hey, Jeannie,” Jet said.

  “Hi, Jet. Is Katie with you?” Jeannie tried to disguise her fear. If Katie wasn’t with Jet, she could be in real trouble. Otherwise, she’d have reached out to one of them.

  After the briefest of pauses, Jet answered. “She’s right here.”

  “Whew. Thank goodness. What’s going on?”

  Jet stammered, “I think I’ll let Katie talk to you.”

  Katie reached out for the phone. She should have anticipated this phone call. Jeannie Bennett wasn’t the kind of woman to ignore news like this. She’d always been there for Katie in the past, and she still was. “Hi,” Katie said.

  “Hi, Katie. How are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Jeannie demanded in a rush of questions.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” Katie replied, choosing to answer the easiest of the questions.

  “Then why are you running from the police?”

  Katie squeezed the bridge of her nose, her migraine suddenly worse as she faced the one authority figure in the world whose opinion truly mattered to her. Jeannie wasn’t just her boss. She was a mother figure and a role model and a woman she truly respected and admired. Katie couldn’t stand to disappoint her.

  As calmly as she could, she told Jeannie what had happened. “I wasn’t running from the police. Not at first, anyway. A man with a gun was chasing me. But I don’t think I can trust the police, either. What if they take my kids from me?”

  “Katie, that’s not going to happen. Everyone who knows you knows what a great mom you are, how much you love your kids. And we’re also sure you’d never have killed Billy. I’ll vouch for you, all the doctors at the office will vouch for you, all the nurses will vouch for you. Hey, even Judge Rabin will vouch for you. No one on this planet could say anything bad about you.”

  Katie walked across the living room to the long windows, draped to keep out the morning sun. Pushing the heavy curtain aside, she peered through the glass and was amazed at how normal the world seemed. Cars drove by, a squirrel ran through the grass, the sun shined down as if nothing had happened. She thought about Jeannie’s words.

  She knew she had Jeannie’s unconditional love and support. Jeannie had taken a chance on her when she was still all screwed up with drugs. She’d helped her build a life. As for the other doctors she worked with, Katie thought she’d probably earned their respect as well. She worked hard and did a good job, never called in sick, and they all seemed to like her. She didn’t rock the boat and got along with her coworkers. They were a tough group of women, mostly single moms and older women who’d earned their own keep and expected everyone else to earn theirs as well. And the judge—Katie had forgotten about the judge.

  Murray Rabin was on the board of the clinic, and when his wife had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, he’d asked for Dr. Bennett’s help with home-health services. Several of the nurses and techs had formed a team to provide virtually round-the-clock care for Mrs. Rabin. Katie and her kids had worked Friday evenings and Sundays for months, and Katie and the judge had developed a friendship of sorts. He’d sold the big house after his wife died two years ago and retired to Florida, but he still sent an occasional note and always remembered Chloe and Andre’s birthdays. He’d surely put in a good word for her if she needed one.

  Looking across the room at Jet, Katie felt her heart melt. She sat on the couch, with her hands clasped, her forearms resting on her thighs. She’d win the bed-head award again, with her dark hair sticking up in every direction. Even though she wore a wrinkled T-shirt and gym shorts, Katie thought her beautiful, and sexy.

  She recalled the special moments they’d shared in the last few months and the incredible passion they’d shared in the last few hours, how those still hands had moved frantically over her skin, giving her more pleasure than she’d ever known. Jet loved her, an
d she loved Jet. This was a chance for her to have a happiness she hadn’t known she even wanted, and she didn’t want to screw it up. Was going to the police the answer? Might she, after all these years, count on them?

  Jet had brought up some credible concerns during their talk in the early morning. Katie had thought of running, but how far would her inheritance check take her without some form of ID? She wouldn’t even be able to cash it. And if she could, what kind of life would she and her children have if they were forced to hide from Simon and the police? She wouldn’t be able to work, and the kids wouldn’t be able to attend school.

  Jet had told her she needed to talk to the police, and now Jeannie was telling her the same thing. The two smartest women she knew couldn’t both be wrong. It was a scary prospect, knowing the police might not believe her, understanding that they could put her children in foster care when they threw her in jail, but she also understood she had to take a chance. The alternative wasn’t so good, either.

  “I guess I should talk to the police,” Katie said at last. From across the room she saw Jet’s shoulders relax in relief, and on the other end she heard Jeannie’s supportive words.

  “You have to, Katie. You can’t hide from the police. It’ll be okay, because you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I hope you’re right, Jeannie.”

  “I’m always right, Katie.”

  She laughed in response.

  “I take it you won’t be coming to work today, then?” Jeannie asked.

  “I better take care of this first.”

  “Okay. Will Jet be coming in? Maybe she should stay with you. I can manage without you for a few hours.” Jeannie’s tone was teasing.

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Okay. Tell her she can have the day off. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Jeannie. Thanks.”

  “And Katie? If you need anything, call me.”

  Katie smiled as she walked across the room and sat beside Jet. If she wanted to spend her days and nights beside this woman—and she did—she’d need to find all of her courage. “I will.”

  Disconnecting the phone, Katie leaned against Jet’s shoulder, and immediately Jet reached around and pulled her closer. Already, she felt better. She wished she could shake her doubts, though. Did Jet really know what she was getting herself into? Looking up into the dark eyes she loved, she asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, then, what would you like to do today? Your boss gave you the day off.”

  “Uh…I think I’m going to take you to talk to the police.”

  “I want to talk to my lawyer first.”

  “You have a lawyer?” Jet asked, and Katie could hear the surprise in her voice. She supposed most people didn’t; she supposed most people didn’t need one.

  “He was a friend of my mom. He’s bailed me out of jail a dozen times…and he manages my trust fund.”

  Jet’s jaw dropped. “Your what?”

  “My trust fund.” Katie told her about the lawsuit and the judge’s decision to safeguard the money for her. “I’m an heiress of sorts.” Katie laughed, although the memory still hurt. She often wondered if her father would have been kinder to her if he’d gotten the money from the lawsuit. What she never questioned, though, was the intentions of his second wife. April was evil, and whatever money her father had, the woman would have spent, and she would have been no kinder to Katie in the process.

  Jet squeezed her arm. “Great, then. You can buy breakfast.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Police Work

  Phil Young sat back in the hard metal chair and closed his eyes. He was getting too old for this job. His daughter really was a student at Misericordia University, and in two years, when she earned her degree, he hoped to retire. He hated to give up the security of a steady income and a few more dollars in his pension by taking a private-sector job until he fulfilled his responsibility for his youngest child. Then, though, he was gone.

  He hated investigating murders. He hated seeing the battered and bullet-ridden bodies that had once been living souls. He hated the drugs that led to the violence. He hated the loss of family values that contributed to so many kids on the streets, taking drugs and committing a plethora of crimes. He hated that every murder caused him to question the security of his own family, who were just as vulnerable to random violence as any number of the victims for whom he tried to find justice.

  And he really, really hated that so many murders happened late at night and forced him to leave the comfort of his bed and lose the sleep his body loved. Billy Wallace had been shot at ten in the evening, nearly twelve hours earlier, and Phil hadn’t stopped running since he’d answered the call. He’d spent a few hours at the scene, talking to witnesses and waiting for the coroner to remove the body. He’d barely had a chance to begin digging into the victim’s background when he’d had to rush over to the hospital and figure out that fiasco. He’d have that officer’s badge if he could, just to make a point.

  After heading back to his office, he’d had a chance to read about the victim and his common-law wife, Katie Finan, and had issued the alert for her before heading to the autopsy. He was there when the call came in that Katie Finan had been apprehended, and he’d rushed downtown, eager to talk to the woman.

  According to the autopsy, Wallace would have died from either of the two bullets in his upper chest. The second, large-caliber round was literally overkill. The upper bullet ripped apart his aorta just as it exited the heart. The lower one entered the heart on the front side and exited on the back, then collapsed the lung. Death was instantaneous.

  Wallace’s bloody body had been found on the first floor of the small house, in the living room near the front entrance. The pattern of blood splattered there indicated that was the site of the shooting. He fell where he was shot, collapsing into the fetal position, with his legs bent, on his left side.

  They hadn’t found any bullets on the first floor but had retrieved two from Billy’s corpse. They’d also pulled a bullet from the window frame of the bedroom one floor above, and another one had presumably shattered the window. At first light, officers at the scene had uncovered a few more. All seemed to be from the same large-caliber weapon. They’d recovered casings from the hall, the stairs, the bedroom, and the alley beside the house.

  Witnesses, a total of seven of them, reported seeing a dark-colored SUV parked in the alley next to Wallace’s apartment. They also reported seeing Katie Finan, or a woman resembling her, sitting on the roof over the first-floor porch when the first shots were fired. Three women saw Katie jump from the roof a minute later. One man reported seeing a man and a woman jump from the roof, but that witness couldn’t remember who’d gone first in the bizarre game of follow-the-leader. The other witnesses had jumped for cover when the shooting started outside the house and couldn’t offer any other information.

  Some of the officers at the scene and neighbors outside speculated that Katie was the shooter. Phil already knew, without a doubt, that she was not. The evidence at the scene and the witness accounts told him that. If Finan had shot Wallace upstairs and missed, then chased him downstairs and killed him in the living room, why would she return to the bedroom and jump from the roof? She’d have fled through the front door, just a few feet away.

  And why would she leave her kids in the house with their dead father’s body there for them to discover? Everything he’d learned about her in the hours since she’d fled that house told him that Katie Finan lived for her children. Her criminal record—devoid of entry since her daughter’s birth—clearly reflected that. Her neighbors described her as a doting mother. And of course, there was the incident at the hospital. If that didn’t prove just how much she cared for her children, nothing did.

  No, Finan wasn’t the shooter. That meant the driver of the SUV had pulled the trigger. And Katie Finan knew who he was. He’d shot at her, too. If Phil could find her, she could finger the killer, and he could w
rap up the case and get some sleep.

  It seemed too good to be true when he’d heard that Finan had been picked up on Kelly Drive. But he’d rushed right over to Twenty-first Street, eager to question the woman. He’d missed her soliloquy to the two-way mirror but watched it on video several times before going into the room to question her.

  From the moment he heard her speak, Phil was concerned that they’d picked up the wrong suspect. The woman they brought in looked a lot like Finan, but he was willing to bet they sounded nothing alike. The woman in custody spoke well, eloquently and with proper English. He’d be surprised if a woman living in Finan’s neighborhood and with a drug dealer like Billy Wallace even knew the meaning of the word expedite. She wore expensive sunglasses and running sneakers, too, but that didn’t persuade him one way or the other. They typically found expensive items like that in drug houses. But the way this suspect wore them—her entire demeanor, in fact—bespoke a confidence he rarely witnessed in this setting. This woman wasn’t afraid and wasn’t in the least bit intimidated by her surroundings. She was just biding her time, awaiting her release, and that wasn’t at all what he’d have expected from Katie Finan. Katie had much to fear and even more to lose if their meeting didn’t go her way, yet the woman talking into the mirror was more annoyed than afraid.

  When he’d walked into the room to meet her, his suspicions were confirmed. The woman had an attitude, and gumption, but not the kind grown on the streets. She was just simply obnoxious, a spoiled brat, in his opinion. Used to having her way, but undeniably intelligent and articulate.

  From that point, it was just a matter of time before she produced the proof of identity that won her freedom. He’d enjoyed their banter, matching barbs with her and of course talking about a part of the state he’d come to love. He and his wife had purchased a vacation home in the Poconos at Big Bass Lake, and they visited the mountains every chance they got. From the way she spoke, and the glimmer in her eyes, Dr. Coussart clearly loved that part of the commonwealth as much as he did.