Chapter Nine
Vince rolled over, flung his arms wide, and accidentally knocked his cell and the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels from the nightstand. The double thump exploded through his head like a firecracker. He rose onto his elbows, made sure the bottle and phone were still in one piece, and peered at the alarm radio next to the bed. Four forty-seven a.m. Collapsing back, he stared up at the ceiling. Nothing like a vacation to relax a man.
He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into opposite armpits. He’d check out of the hotel this morning and head over to Sedona. There were resorts, spas, and golf courses—maybe not golf this time of year—but a few days at a spa would suit him. Rolling onto his stomach, he leaned over the edge, retrieved his cell, and turned it on. Two missed calls and a message immediately sounded.
Shelby.
Not moving from his prone position, he listened to the message then slowly lowered the cell back to the floor. Another email from the Ricci woman.
Well, there won’t be any more.
But the analyst didn’t know that—and Vince shouldn’t either. He groaned. Best to give him a call. He waited for the clock to roll over to five, and punched the number on his cell.
The analyst picked up on the second ring. “John Shelby.”
“It’s Elams. I’m on vacation, Shelby, so make it quick.”
“Nobody tells us anything.”
Which was why an analyst in the basement made the perfect inside partner. The exchange of information between analyst and agent was just that. No dots connected.
“No problem, but keep it simple.”
“In that case, I won’t update you on the Mancini tap, but I thought you should know about the Ricci woman. I know you said the case was pretty much sidelined, but still, considering what’s changed…I didn’t want you to have the wrong information. Not sure how it could—”
“Give me the bottom line.” Vince rose and sat on the edge of the bed. As the analyst backpedaled, a bad feeling crept up his spine.
Shelby cleared his throat. “Mandy Barker owns the house. Penny Sparks is the other woman in the house, and it turns out she’s Jianna Ricci.”
He set his jaw, reaching for calm. The analyst couldn’t suspect the impact of the mix up. “You want to tell me how you came to this conclusion?”
“Evidently, the real Jianna used her friend’s Gmail account.”
“Evidently?” Tightness rose from his neck to his temples, signaling a blood pressure surge.
“Obviously, the message was to her aunt and signed Jianna. What we didn’t know was Penny Sparks used Mandy Barker’s account. Well…I’d decided to do a trace on Mandy Barker even before I saw this second email—”
“Second?” His teeth gnashed. She’d sent another email and Shelby hadn’t informed him?
“Yeah, but even before that I continued the research on Mandy Barker, I mean more in depth research than when we’d first talked. We’d done a quick outline. Well, you have that. So, when I dug deeper, I found a past, a maiden name, which I hadn’t expected to find. I was going to call you. Then the second message came through. This time Jianna admitted to her aunt she’d used her housemate’s computer…her housemate being Mandy Barker.”
“Why am I just now finding this out?”
“I initiated the more extensive trace on Friday, right after we talked. She sent the email on Sunday. All of this hit my computer Monday, yesterday. I called you immediately, but you didn’t pick up.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d been right in wanting to watch the woman for a while…and wrong in contacting the senator right away.
“I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your vacation.”
“Nah, nah. The case is practically dead—to the FBI anyway. Thanks for the report. See you next week.”
He slammed his phone on the nightstand, bent and retrieved the bottle of whiskey from the floor, and clunked it down on the table. A deep growl grew in his throat.
“What a clusterfuck I’ve got now.”
What were the chances the cops in Flagstaff would make a connection between Barker’s murder and the murder of a family in Rock Springs, Nevada thirteen years ago? The MO was the same. The association wouldn’t be impossible to make. In fact, that had been the whole idea, had the target been correct. Even though the local cops most likely wouldn’t make the connection, the Ricci woman would definitely connect the dots. Would she flee or finally come forward? She knew about Westingly’s embezzling from the government, but what proof could she have that he’d ordered five murders—six counting her own?
The question still bothered him why Jianna hadn’t come home that day. The boy wasn’t supposed to be home, but she should’ve been there. Somehow she’d been alerted. Did she know he’d been there? He couldn’t wait to find out.
Fucking Westingly opened a can of worms. If he’d just let her continue hiding out—
Vince stood. He had to check out and get his ass back to Flagstaff. He’d make a reservation by phone at the Sedona resort and drop the information he’d been hiking all day and would be there later. The more convoluted his schedule, the less likely anyone would try to connect him to anything happening in Flagstaff. A lame story at best, but he had to have some sort of alibi. How to find the Ricci woman remained the next question.
When he did, she’d have to disappear.
****
Who did Penny think killed Mandy? The thought rocketed through Jake in the gray area between sleep and waking. His lids popped open. Light seeped around the edge of the curtained window. He swung his feet to the floor and sat. So shocked and distraught last night, he must’ve missed something in her tale.
According to Penny, Senator Westingly had the motive to make the woman who worked for him disappear and to murder Penny’s family. She’d said her family had been murdered soon after going to the FBI. Had she said she knew who pulled the trigger? Did it even matter now?
Hell yes, it mattered. His heart thumped heavily. It mattered as long as whoever killed his sister was still out there.
And they’d come for Penny when they realized their mistake.
His head hurt trying to make sense of how he felt. She’d gotten Mandy killed. She’d used her, and now his sister was dead. Dead. Murdered. How could she do that? Maybe used was too strong a word. Stupid. She called herself stupid. Oh, what she did went way beyond stupid. He raked hands through his hair. He wanted to hate her, blame her, turn his back and let her deal with whatever life would hand her now.
But Penny could end up dead.
If he turned away, he’d be the stupid one, the guilty one. Mandy wouldn’t want that. He could almost feel the punch of his sister’s fist in his arm. She loved Penny or Jianni or whoever the hell she was. And Penny loved his sister.
Hell, he’d been such an asshole. This must be ripping Penny apart. Why hadn’t she told the story to the police? He grabbed his jeans from the floor, shrugged them on, and opened his door. How poorly he’d acted when she’d confessed her part in his sister’s death. The blame couldn’t be placed on her, not entirely. She needed protection. He needed answers.
Jake finished dressing and bounded from his room to the hall. At Penny’s door, he knocked softly then tried the knob. The door opened.
“Penny?”
The room was empty.
His stomach tied in knots, and his breath raw in his throat, he whirled from the room. In the lobby, an older man stood behind the front desk.
“I’m looking for Penny Sparks. Have you seen her this morning?”
A door behind the man opened and Penny stuck her head out. “What do you want, Jake?”
Relief flooded him. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes narrowed, defiantly.
“Now.” He could be as stubborn as she was, and just as demanding, if he had to be.
Emerging from the room, she spoke to the clerk. “My request is complete. Janice is set to cover.” She strode to the end of the front desk and came beside Jake, still addressing her fellow employee. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Have fun on your vacation, Penny.”
Apparently heading toward the Rendezvous, he caught her by the arm. “Let’s go back upstairs.”
With a yank, she pulled away. “Why?”
“No eyes or ears.”
With a jerky glance around them, her defiance morphed into concern. “All right.”
In the hall, he opened his door and nudged her inside. “Have a seat.”
“I don’t think so. I called Detective Ranclin. We can get back into the house. I’ll take you to get your things and your truck. Jake, please, you need to get as far from me as possible. I’ve told you the truth, and there’s nothing more we have to say to each other.”
“There’s plenty more. You can’t just dump that kind of information on me and expect me to walk away.”
“No, run away.”
“Not on your life.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
Bad choice of words. He took her shoulders, and expecting resistance, held firmly. But this time, she allowed him to bring her closer. “Your life’s in danger. We need to go to the cops.”
“We?”
“I want to help.”
“Help?” Her eyes widened. “I’m the reason your sister is dead. How can you even stand to be in the same room with me?”
She was right. Logically, she was right. But besides his parents, there were only two people in the world he cared about—his sister and Penny. He’d lost his sister; he couldn’t lose Penny, too.
“I care about you, that’s why.”
She went limp. He caught her, and brought her against him. At first, he thought she might have fainted again, but a ragged breath and a sniff convinced him otherwise.
“Mandy wouldn’t blame you. You were lonely for family. She understood how important family is, and in your place, she’d have done the same thing.”
Penny buried her face hard into his chest. In a few moments, she stirred, and clutching his shirt tight in her fists, gazed into his face. “I—I don’t know.”
“Mandy loved you. I know you loved her, too. And I…” He brushed her hair from her face, wiped the dampness from her cheeks, and kissed her briefly. “I won’t let you go this alone. We have to make sure the cops get the son of bitch that killed her.” He pulled her back against him, keenly aware of her warmth on his chest and the salty taste of her tears on his lips. “Just know, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” His mind reeled with feelings for Penny, sadness with the loss of his sister, and hate for the man who pulled the trigger. “You need to call Detective Ranclin and tell him what you told me.”
Her head shook against his chest.
“Yes.” Her head shook again. “Why not?”
She breathed deep, patted his chest with both hands, and left his embrace. “I don’t know who to trust.”
“Who do you think…did this? Who’s after you?”
She gazed toward the window, apparently gathering her thoughts. “Senator Westingly is making a bid for the presidency.” Her voice took on a quiet, serious tone. “He’s been covering up taking millions from government contracts that his family business had back when he held the CEO position. But I don’t think he pulled the trigger. I think the FBI did.”
“The FBI is murdering people for a politician?”
“I don’t know how far reaching the senator’s cover-up is.” She faced his doubt, a finger raised with each statement. “I know that my family was murdered after my dad went to the FBI. I know I saw an agent’s car parked in front of my house at the exact time my brother warned me off going home.”
“Your brother…” An ache filled his gut. She’d had a brother who’d been murdered right along with her parents. A child.
“Yeah, we had this secret code that Dad devised.” She lowered onto the chair. “I got the code texted to me from my brother. But I drove by our house anyway. A black sedan with government plates was parked out front.” She rubbed her nose and pushed her hair from her face. “I never met the agent working with my dad. He had to deal with someone to take down Westingly, but he kept my brother and me out of it. The first time the agent came to the house, Dad had me take John and leave before they got there. But I passed a black sedan, just like the one I saw the day they were murdered, as I drove away.”
“Bugger.” He gazed into her eyes, sensed some of the fear she must have experienced as a teenager. “But what you know and what you can prove are two different things. Did you get the plate number?”
“I didn’t think about doing that. The shock of getting the message from my brother rattled me. Only blocks from home when he texted me, and seeing what I believed to be the FBI agent’s car at my house confused me. Yet I had to run. At the last minute, I took a picture with my phone of the car parked in front of the house. I kept the SIM card from that phone. The newspaper stated that an FBI agent found the family within an hour of the murder.” Her lips pinched together, then she huffed. “Like hell. He was there before they were killed.”
Jake sank onto the bed, his mind reeling with her assumptions. “So, you think the senator—hired—an FBI agent to make the accounting woman disappear and to kill your family?”
“Yeah, I do.” Penny rose and paced in front of him. “And how do I know he’s involved? Westingly wasn’t a senator back then. But he must’ve had aspirations. He sold off the nuclear waste division and bowed out of the company to go into politics. And you know what else?” She stopped, her eyes wide, fists at her sides.
He swallowed deeply. “What?”
“Those two other people, Burke and Severing? The two that Angie thought were doing the embezzling? They both died within a couple of years of when Westingly resigned from the company and went into politics.”
“Murdered?”
“Burke drowned while out on his yacht, and Severing died when a car hit her while biking after dark. Hit and run. Accidents. Hmph. That means anyone who knew what Westingly did is gone.” Her chest expanded with a deep breath. “Except for me.”
“Okay, so supposed accidents that might not ever be discovered. But this murder stuff, I’d think that eventually something or someone would lead to whoever pulled the trigger, if not the senator himself.”
“Not when there’s the perfect scapegoat—the Chicago crime syndicate.”
“The Mafia?” Jake shook his head to rattle the thought around.
“Oh, I guess I didn’t mention that part last night.”
“No, you didn’t.” He stared into her face, wondering how much more he could be surprised.
“I have family in Chicago who are purported to be…well established. How easy for the FBI to blame the crime on them.” She punctuated the air in exasperation. “The story concocted involved my family and an imaginary debt that the murders paid. The FBI made my family’s murders look like a mafia hit. No stretch for them to accomplish.”
“Are they?”
“What?”
“Well established.” He swallowed hard. “Do you really have family members who are in the mafia?”
“Yes.”
Had he jumped from the frying pan to the fire? From addiction, to his sister’s death, to a woman in the mafia who was on the run from a murderer? He didn’t know what to say. He stared dumbly into her face.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not mafia, Jake. Neither was my family. My dad’s parents got out of Chicago when he was a baby. He was a lawyer, for God’s sake. They were never part of that branch.”
The weight lifted from his chest. But only so much. Penny’s troubles ran deep, and he had to keep her safe.
“You won’t trust the cops or the FBI. But we’re going to have to trust someone. Eventually, and probably sooner rather than later…the FBI, the senator, whoever…will figure out the mix up and come after you.”
“There is someone. He’s totally honest and trustworthy. Sheriff Chance Meadowlark.”
****
Penny couldn’t believe Jake still remained by her side. He didn’t speak during the drive back to Mandy’s house. If he wasn’t reconsidering his promise to protect her and his declaration of caring deeply, then he wasn’t human. She left him alone in his thoughts; she had enough of her own. Fighting the guilt for Mandy’s death daunted her, but those feelings had to be set aside in order to focus on staying alive.
Everything Mandy had said about Jake rang true. And more. He would be so easy to love. She didn’t deserve him. And didn’t know if she could spend the rest of her life with him—because that’s what love meant—when every time she looked at him, the memory of Mandy and her responsibility for his sister’s death would haunt her.
“Circle the block twice. Look for any cars that don’t go with your neighbors or shouldn’t be on your street.”
She nodded and drove past the house. Jake’s truck, parked on the street, and Mandy’s Camaro in the driveway were the only vehicles. As she rounded the corner, she had an idea, and turned into the alley. “I’ll bet he parked out back.” Her heart thumped faster as she entered the alley, but no cars occupied the dirt and gravel path. She slowed behind her house, and Jake rose as high as he could in his seat to peer into the backyard.
“Looks clear.”
She drove once more around the block then pulled behind the Camaro and turned off the engine.
“We’re going to get what we need for a few days as quickly as possible. Then we’re going to buy you a phone. I don’t plan to leave you, but if for any reason we’re separated, you need a phone.” He stroked her arm. “No arguments. And then we’ll go see the sheriff you say you can trust.”
She caught his hand and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re here. You shouldn’t be, but I’m glad.”
He didn’t quite smile, but his soft gray eyes welcomed her. She expected to see loathing and accusations reflected. Her chest tightened, but she straightened up and breathed deep. Guilt in all its forms had to be pushed aside for now. She didn’t have time for self-pity. She had to save herself, and possibly Jake when the murderer came after her.
The murderer will come.
“When I spoke to the detective this morning, he asked if we could go through the house and see if anything had been taken. They’re looking for motive.” A slight shiver shook her core. “I know the motive. Anyway, Mandy kept a few valuables in a safety deposit box at a bank, not in the house. We aren’t going to look around. This guy wouldn’t have bothered trying to make the murder look like a robbery gone bad.” She opened her car door. “He wants Mandy’s murder connected to my parents’ murder. To look like a mob hit to cover his tracks.”
Because he thought Mandy was me.
She stepped out and waited for Jake to come around to her side. “Detective Ranclin said the police took her cell phone and computer to search for any clues as to the why or who.” As soon as the words left her mouth, icy prickles of fear traveled down her neck and spread across her shoulders and chest. Her head spun, and she leaned against the car to keep her balance.
That’s why.
“What, Penny?” Jake took a hold of her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Email. They mistook Mandy for me because of a cryptic email I sent to my aunt from her computer. But I sent a second email, uh, Sunday—yes, Sunday, before we drove to the Snowbowl.” She darted a glance behind her, then up and down the street. Her throat seemed to swell and restrict her oxygen. As if menacing eyes watched from every direction, she shivered. “Whoever is spying on me must’ve seen that one by now. The murderer will already know his mistake.”
Jake’s hands slipped down her arms, and he took hold of her right hand, pulling her forward. His stride was long. She had to trot to keep up as he dug the key from his jean pocket, and unlocked the door. “Let’s get in and out quickly.”
Inside, she turned into the kitchen while Jake went straight to his room. She grabbed extra keys from a hook by the backdoor and her favored black cardigan then headed toward her bedroom. When she passed by the living room and glanced in at the antique hutch that doubled as a liquor cabinet, she stopped. Her heart did a fast patter as an idea flashed. With a quick glance up the hall to make sure Jake hadn’t come out of his room, she darted over to the cabinet. She opened the middle drawer as far as possible, reached under a stack of papers, and lifted the case with Mandy’s P238. Now, moving faster, she removed the gun from the case, pulled the clip out to make sure it was loaded, and then returned the empty case to the back of the drawer just as Jake came beside her. She clutched the five and half-inch gun behind her back, fingers grazing the red handle. She knew Jake well enough to know he wouldn’t approve of her carrying a pistol.
Gray eyes frowned down on her. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I left one of my books in this cabinet. Guess not. Are you ready?”
He hefted his bag and guitar. “Yep.”
“I’ll get my things out of my room. Would you check all the doors and windows in case the cops forgot to lock up?”
“Sure.”
When he turned, she whirled, changing her booty from her back to her chest and hurried to her room.
In the closet, she retrieved a larger handbag and switched the contents of her smaller purse into it, including the small plastic case that held the SIM card she’d carried on her for thirteen years, and dropped in the extra keys. She examined the P238 Lady, remembering the lesson Mandy had given her two years ago on how to use it. The gun went into the bag.
If the murderer got to them, before Chance found a way to stop him, she’d be ready.
Taking a small suitcase out of the closet, she threw it on the bed and filled it with clothes.
“Are you about packed?” Jake appeared in the doorway.
She scanned the room, grabbed the old black cardigan Mandy had given her the day they met, and added it to the top of the clothes. Zipping the case, she nodded. “I am now.” She set the case on the floor, releasing the handle and yanking upward to the rolling position. “No offense, but I’d rather take my car than your truck.”
“No argument from me. The Eggplant has a working heater and starts on the first try. You want me to drive?” He stepped into the hallway.
“No. I know where I’m going.” One more glance around the room and she joined him. “There’s a store we can buy a cell on our way to the sheriff’s house.”
He jerked to a stop. “We’re going to his house?”
“Yep. The sheriff’s the only one we can trust right now. I don’t want any other cops around. I’m good friends with his wife and daughter and not a stranger in their home.”
“You said you saw the FBI agent’s car. Did you get a look at him? Would you know him if you saw him again?”
“No. I drove past the car, but I had no reason to pay attention. That had been the very first time Dad met with him, and he sent John and me away. I glanced as the agent drove by us. He had dark hair, suit. That’s about it. Dad tried to protect me, well, all of us, but me in particular. I think Dad might have met with him a time after that, but I’m not sure.”
Stopping at the front door, they shrugged into coats and gloves.
“But why are you so sure the car was even his? You remember government plates and a black sedan? The guy had on a suit?”
“Uh, photographic memory, remember?”
Jake grimaced. “Way off subject, but that means the night we met…”
“Yeah, I remember every little detail.” When he rubbed his face, she couldn’t help but smile. “You apologized, remember? And besides, other than your vulgar proposal, I kind of liked thinking about your unwanted hands on my butt from time to time over the years.”
That drew a crooked smile from him, and he diverted his gaze. He probably felt as guilty as she did for finding humor in anything right now.
He cleared his throat. “I guess I don’t have to say this, but be aware of everyone around us when we get out there. I can’t imagine he’d try something in broad daylight, in sight of anyone else, but who knows what we’re dealing with.”
“If he’s doing the bidding of Westingly, like I believe, he can’t let me go. He can’t ignore his screw up.”
The icy fingers of fear crept up her spine. Could she stay hidden? From an FBI agent who also moonlighted as a hit man? Yeah, an FBI puppet for a politician. Penny gritted her teeth as disgust stabbed her gut at the thought of his puppet master, the man behind him who continued on a steady rise to even more power.
“And since Westingly’s behind him, the senator is who we have to put out of commission.” She tightly gripped the bag hanging on her shoulder. Her palms sweated, her scalp crawled with a tingling sensation, yet her jaw set in determination.
“You mean who the police or sheriff has to put out of commission.” His face hardened with seriousness. “We’re going to lay it out, stay out of his way, and let them catch this guy.”
I hope so.
She fingered the strap of the bag again.
Unless he finds me first.
****
Vince cruised by the Barker house. The pulse throbbed in his temples when he saw not only the two cars, but also the truck he’d seen when he’d first scoped out the place. Local cops must’ve finished their crime scene observations and allowed Ricci to return home. She couldn’t drive two cars at once, which indicated another body to worry about. Either the friend would leave or they’d both leave, eventually. The three-block area around the house had only one way out. Driving past, and around the next block, he pulled the car into a space on the street in front of the park at the entrance to the neighborhood, but left the engine running for warmth. He opened the glove box and pulled out a map. With it spread on the steering wheel, he had a reason to be stopped. Adjusting his rearview and side mirrors, he relaxed. They couldn’t get past him.
His stomach growled. From the floor, he picked up the bag of chips half-eaten on his way to Camp Verde and mentally cursed the senator. The chips would help his missed breakfast, but his coffee craving couldn’t be dulled. Enough of this shit. It was time to retire. To disappear. He’d submit the paperwork first thing on Monday.
Mexico.
He crunched on a chip. His dad had told him stories of going hunting as a boy, with his father in Mexico. Vince couldn’t get interested in hunting, bored with the required hours of stalking prey through the brush in New Jersey where he’d grown up. His father had killed beautiful pheasants. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and he laughed out loud. Now, he hunted a woman, small and lovely like the birds his father shot.
A car appeared in his rearview mirror. The purple Dodge that had been parked at the house. He fiercely concentrated on seeing the face—no, damn it—faces through the window. As the car drew nearer, he strained his gaze on the side view mirror. The driver looked a lot like the Barker woman. A man occupied the passenger seat. As they rounded the corner, Vince pulled into sparse traffic several cars back. She couldn’t stay in the car and in the company of her friend, twenty-four-seven. He’d wait for an opportunity, and snatch her.