Cora bristled. “How in the world did they find that out? Hotels won’t release that information without a warrant. Right?”
While Cora stayed logical, I didn’t. “No way.” I shook a finger at the screen. “There is no way that happened. I would have seen her. Would have felt her.” I shuddered as if placed in a glass cage filled with cockroaches. The last time I had talked with Janie, she had altered her appearance, but I was adamant that wouldn’t have mattered. Okay, I was fifty percent certain I’d be able to pick her out of a crowd.
Avery set to work on a laptop, doing God only knew what.
Darrell shook his head. “I still don’t understand why in the world you would agree to help Janie of all people. After everything.”
“Because it was the right thing to do. To help track down a serial killer.” I avoided looking in Cora’s direction, still wondering if she had lied about Janie blackmailing her.
“With the woman who set you up.”
“I never liked that part, but what if Ian or Mia was one of the victims and I did nothing?”
“I still don’t trust Janie.” He rubbed his chin. “Wasn’t there another way?”
“I never trusted her, but I never guessed this would happen.” I pointed to the feeding frenzy of reporters outside the building. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if she knows.” Cora smothered her face, massaging her eyes.
“Who knows?” I shook a fist at Tish’s image, which was now on all ten screens as every news station replayed her bombshell. “That woman wouldn’t know if aliens landed and kidnapped her until someone whispered it into her fucking earpiece.”
“Not Tish!” Cora collapsed into her desk chair. “Mean Heather. She must have figured out you were working with Janie.”
I staggered back a step. “Not possible. We were so careful. No e-mails, texts, cont—” I faltered on the word contact, not feeling confident at all about my sleuthing abilities.
“How else do you explain this? This framing is good—CIA good.”
“There’s also Nicki. I’ve had a bad feeling about her since you recruited her.”
“Unless Nicki is Mean Heather or Nicki’s ghostwriter is.”
The stupid Disneyland song “It’s a Small World” blared in my head. Not able to restrain myself, I hummed the tune. Cora stared at me, open-mouthed, like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to deal with the shitstorm swirling around my feet. I squelched a desire to mutter, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
Claire entered the office like a five-star general ready to kick some ass. “Have you considered the most obvious option?”
After I’d spoken to her on the phone from the limo, filling her in as best I could considering I had no idea what exactly I was facing, Claire, with the aid of Silas (thank God he still liked me—or had he and Cora not actually broken up?) had arranged for our parents to fly out to get the kids and head to a house Cora and Silas still owned in the Caribbean, hopefully off the grid or away from computers and the media, since the media blitz showed no signs of slackening.
From the looks of it, Claire and I weren’t getting married anytime soon. If ever. Prison seemed more likely for me. Would I have to get a prison wife? A butch one? I didn’t like my odds of surviving on my own, not at just a little over five feet tall.
“Well?” Claire met my eyes.
“You,” I stupidly uttered.
Claire couldn’t help but smile. “How do you know Janie didn’t set this up from the beginning?” She stood in front of the panel of screens, each filled with newscasters and pundits analyzing every angle of the Janie saga, factoring in the “new” details about our alleged continuing affair. “This plot reeks of the actions of a scorned woman.”
“Holy shit, that’s brilliant!” Cora winced and mouthed sorry. “It’s even better than Flynn’s Gone novel. By the way, they never found a body in that one.”
“And yet the whole world was convinced he killed her. Wasn’t he arrested?” I countered.
Cora cocked her head. “I can’t remember. The cops threatened to arrest his sister, but was he—?”
Claire snapped her fingers. “How do you two manage to run a twenty-four seven online news site?” Her voice and expression didn’t hold any trace of humor. “We need to figure out if Janie is behind this or not.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. Why’d she leave me a note saying she was sorry?”
“What note?” Cora and Claire asked in unison.
I explained about the late-night meeting.
“That woman was in my house while I was sleeping?” She staggered back a step. “While our children were sleeping!” Claire stormed to the other side of the spacious office. “When was this?”
“Months ago.”
“Did you know about this?” Cora, fire shooting from her eyes, asked Avery, who shook her head.
All three women stared at me, one with an expression of murder on her face. Darrell sat in the corner, fuming. Right before I’d fired him, he’d claimed I was in over my head. Did he have to have a front row seat proving his statement right?
“Now what?” I asked.
“I think JJ and I need to talk in private.” Claire’s stiff body language and heavy breathing didn’t put me at ease, but I acquiesced of course. Even Darrell gave me a Man am I happy I’m not in your shoes look as he and the rest shuffled out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Claire, arms folded and nostrils flaring, barked, “Explain.”
Sitting on the edge of Cora’s desk, I gripped the sides with my fingers. “I…” I had no idea how to spin it. How could I explain the truth when I didn’t fully understand everything?
Angry tears moistened the corners of her eyes. “Why was Janie in our house?”
“She needed to talk.”
“You two are besties now?”
I breathed in through my nostrils and let the air out of my mouth. “It’s not what you think.”
“And you’re an expert when it comes to knowing what I think?”
I stood and reached out, but she backed away, shaking her head adamantly. “No. Don’t touch me.”
“I know you’re angry, but I need you to trust me. What’s on the news isn’t true. Janie and I never continued a relationship. Never.” I shook my head with neck cracking force as if she’d believe me more if I could physically show her how absurd the idea was.
“Then why was she in our house!” She paced in front of the bank of televisions, each with Janie’s image along with the words, “Miracle Girl’s lover missing.”
Again, it felt like I was living a nightmare.
Cora’s office door opened, and Avery appeared. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Not now!” I yelled.
Avery entered the room with Nicki, Cora tailing them.
My heart pounded in my throat, rendering me speechless.
Before Claire or I could say a word, Nicki held up an FBI badge.
I eyed Cora. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Cora put her hands up. “I didn’t know.”
“Am I under arrest?” I asked Nicki.
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
Her choice of words angered me, and I snapped, “You know as well as I do that Janie is alive and well.” I waved to the televisions. “This is an elaborate plan to railroad me. For all I know, you’re involved.” I shooed her away with my hand.
Nicki held my gaze. “You either let me stay or the cops will be here to question you. Which would you prefer?” She inched closer. “I’m on your side, JJ.”
“You’ve been lying this whole time.”
“And you knew it all along. Don’t feign being stupid, not now. I liked it better when you pretended we could get along.”
“I can’t handle this right now.” I rubbed my face with a hand and turned to Claire. “Are you okay?”
/>
Claire, bowled over by the latest turn of events, didn’t answer.
Cora put an arm around Claire’s shoulders and whispered something. She nodded, and before I had a chance to put two and two together, they left the room, arm in arm.
Nicki stayed silent until it was only the three of us. She turned to Avery. “We should get to work. Find out who in the hell is behind this plot.”
***
Moments later, I asked Nicki, “Why in the hell didn’t you tell us you were FBI?”
She laughed. “You would have run the other way. The badge has that effect on most people.”
“What about pretending to be the author of Beware the Trolls?”
“Who said I didn’t write it? You and Cora are so suspicious I worked it to my advantage.”
Not everything was clicking in my head, but I had to stay focused on the big picture. “But why join with us? Surely the FBI has better resources than Janie and—” I stopped myself.
“My bosses didn’t believe me regarding the possible existence of a serial killer. Janie and your team were the only ones making any progress. I had to do some creative tap dancing to get my supervisor to sign off on working undercover with you.”
“You really think Mean Heather exists?”
“Don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Her expression softened along with her tone. “I do, and I want to catch the bastard.”
“And all this, whatever is going on at the moment? What’s the point?”
“A very clever smokescreen, don’t you think?”
I was tiring of everyone being so flippant about the shitstorm called my life.
Claire’s image on the screens grabbed my attention, and I turned up the volume.
“Claire! Claire!” People swarmed her on the sidewalk.
Cora returned to the room, shoulders stooped, arms wrapped around her chest.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Avery glanced at Cora and then back to the televisions, puzzlement clouding her face.
The reporters swarmed around Claire and Darrell like half-starved pigeons fighting over a scrap of bread.
Tish stuck a microphone in Claire’s face. “Did JJ have an affair with Janie?”
Another newscaster shoved Tish to the side. “Did JJ murder Janie?”
A third jumped in front of the limo pulled up outside the office building. “Do you still love JJ?”
Photographers and tourists grappled, trying to get the best shot. Some held their cameras above their heads, snapping. Others jumped as high as they could. It was like watching footage of crowds battling over Black Friday specials, but the deal of the day was my life—or what was left of it.
Tish shouted, “Is the wedding off?”
At this question, Claire lifted her chin and stared directly at the blonde reporter—my new nemesis. Claire nodded crisply and then disappeared into the back of the limo. Darrell, utilizing football skills from the good old days, clotheslined one photographer and manhandled another who tried to climb in.
Cora stood by my side, watching the surreal images, knowing not to offer any comfort.
My eyes stayed on the television that showed the back of Claire’s limo until the city traffic swallowed it whole. Something told me that image would not only plague my thoughts for my remaining days, it’d be looped every news cycle until this saga ended one way or another.
I turned on Cora. “What in the hell did you say to her?”
Cora started to speak but stopped.
I wagged a finger in her face. “When this is done, I’m quitting. No more investigations. Cancel the confessions show. I’m fucking done!”
Again, Cora started to say something, but I stabbed the air with two fingers. “Twice now. I’ve lost Claire twice because of my career. Three if you count the time I met you when you lured me into working for Beale Media.”
I wanted to storm out of the office. Out of the building. But I had to do everything to make things right. Clear my name. Stay out of jail. It was the only way to get Claire back.
“Get me every piece of evidence that’s coming to light. Every photo. Every crackpot blog theory. Trawl the dark fringes of the Net. There has to be a way to piece this puzzle together!” I took a deep breath to settle my thoughts.
“Anything else?” Cora asked in a supportive tone.
I sucked in air, released, and repeated several times. “Get me Tish Reynolds.”
“This isn’t the time to settle the score,” Cora said, although her eyes said she was on the same page.
“Oh, her time is coming.” And whoever else had stabbed me in the back. “But now I need her. Offer her a fucking exclusive, if need be. My gut tells me whoever is behind this is feeding her information, and I want her close by my side.”
“It’s not a bad idea.” Avery conceded, looking sideways at Nicki, who was also nodding her head.
“Can you manage not to strangle her?” Cora wasn’t attempting gallows humor.
“I’ll play nice until this is over.”
Everything depended on it.
***
Hours later, still hidden in Cora’s office, Avery walked Tish through all the evidence to negotiate an alliance. I grabbed some quiet time, sitting on the floor in the windowless corner of the room.
My phone vibrated. The text read, I’m coming.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I barreled across the room. Cora, Avery, Nicki, and Tish regarded me with heightened suspicion. I could understand Tish’s motives for not trusting me. She probably still harbored the thought I had murdered Janie, but Cora and Avery? I still couldn’t wrap my head around Nicki being a federal agent. Cora was losing her touch if she truly hadn’t known.
Tish spoke with her back to me. “Either Janie is actually trying to locate Mean Heather, or she used her cousin’s death to hook you guys into believing she was working for MDD, all the while setting JJ up for her disappearance slash murder.”
Avery leaned against the conference table. “Or she could be doing both.” She didn’t verbalize it, but her expression said, “Why else would Nicki play along?”
“Revenge against Mean Heather for killing her cousin and against me for supposedly breaking her heart.” I rolled back onto my heels and appraised an image of Janie on the wall. “If that was the plan, bravo, Janie Evans. I clearly didn’t give you enough credit when we dated.”
“Oh, you broke her heart. Every woman in your life, besides Claire, was destined to walk away damaged.” Cora spoke with her eyes focused on the white wall showcasing all the evidence, but her voice claimed I’d broken her heart as well. She tapped a piece related to the cyberbully. “What about Mean Heather? Maybe she found out Janie was on to her and did some digging. Followed Janie to JJ’s and made the correct assumption about Janie trying to out her like she did JJ’s secret.” With Tish present, we were retracing our earlier theories.
“How do I know Janie is still alive?” Tish butted in.
“We’ve shared every scrap of evidence we have about the Mean Heather investigation. An FBI agent is vouching for JJ. What else do you need? Time with Janie in her bunker?” Cora rolled her eyes.
“It’d be nice.”
“This isn’t a movie, sweetheart. One of the keys you seem to be missing is that Janie, while working with us, is also a lone operative. We don’t know where she is.”
“Not even Nicki?”
“Not even me,” Nicki confirmed.
“And I’m supposed to believe all of you?” Tish rubbernecked at me over her shoulder and huffed.
“You won’t know for sure until the end of the story. This is real journalism. Tell me now, are you in or out?” I waited for an answer. “Let me put it this way; things are about to get much more interesting, so you have ten seconds to decide.” I hummed the final chords of the Jeopardy! theme song.
Cora and Avery jacked
their brows.
As reinforcement, I counted the final five by folding one finger down with each tick of the room’s clock.
When I reached the thumb—the last—she blurted, “All right, I’m in.”
“Just so you know, I loathe you as much as you do me, but from here on out, I’m going to trust you. Can you do the same?” I surveyed her face for any hint of danger.
“Of course.” Tish appeared sincere.
“Good, because we have a visitor coming,” I said.
“Who?” Cora demanded.
“Don’t know. Just got a message that said I’m coming. No number.”
Avery motioned for me to hand over my phone, which I did. Nicki was glued to her side. At the moment, I was determined to trust every woman in the room. With my eyes wide open of course, unsure who was playing even the tiniest of roles in the screw JJ Cavendish fiasco.
“If we don’t know who, how is our mysterious person going to get into a building that’s surrounded by reporters and tourists, not to mention the everyday crazies of New York City? It was hard enough smuggling Tish in unnoticed.” Cora tapped her fingertips against her mouth, her way of thinking. I never asked Nicki how she managed to get in, and one quick glance made it clear she’d never reveal.
I took a seat at Cora’s desk, exhausted, and glanced longingly at the video monitor connected to my office. What I wouldn’t give to be back in Colorado. “It’s clear the person behind this charade wants to ruin my life. Let’s speed up the process.”
The four of them looked dubious, but what did they have to lose?
***
Avery had taped all the photos of Janie at my book readings onto the sidewall. I studied each, while watching the televisions out of the corner of my eye. Tish, several floors below in MMD’s newly installed TV studio, which had been part of the preparation for my show, began her broadcast.
“You know, when I decided to put in the set, I had no clue the first time we’d use it would be to frame you for Janie’s murder.” Cora sipped a freshly brewed black coffee.
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