Chapter Ten
A train of thought ran through Jake’s mind as he and Penny drove to Walmart. Where was the murderer right now? How would he try to kill her? Did the murderer know she knew he was FBI and what he’d done?
They pulled into the parking lot.
“There. Get that spot. Looks like it’s as close as we can get.” The space was halfway down a row from the entrance. “We’ll get in and out quickly.”
Penny wheeled into the spot, but didn’t turn off the engine. “Maybe we should skip this and get over to Sheriff Meadowlark’s.”
Jake shook his head and opened his car door. “I know you’ve got a thing about cell phones and microwaves, but you need to put that aside—”
“No, it’s not that. Well, I do have a thing about microwaves, but not having a phone has had more to do with staying hidden. What I mean is, we don’t know where this guy is. He could be watching us right now.”
Jake tensed, and closed the car door. “I had the same thought. But we’re in a public place. He’s going to have to catch you alone, and that’s not going to happen.” He smiled to reassure her, while wondering what would keep the guy from shooting her like a sniper. They might be operating under the assumption he’d try to duplicate another mob hit, but the murderer might not be.
The urge to slump in the seat and tell her to race out of the parking lot accompanied prickles of anxiety across his scalp. If that was his game, if he had a rifle aimed at them at this moment, they wouldn’t get far. He fought the urge and continued.
“Even if he’s following us right now, we should stick to our plan. Let’s get in and out as quickly as possible. Although I’m not leaving you alone until this is over, a phone will give you an added layer of protection. Buying a burner and getting it activated won’t take long.” The jitters his unvoiced speculation brought threatened his forced calm. But no good would come from sharing his fears. More than likely, fear is what drove his imagination. “He’s FBI, not some wacko that will take out half the patrons in the store to get to you. He’ll be calculating and have a plan.”
She rolled her eyes and shut off the engine. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”
“It should.” He opened his door again and stepped out. “Come on. Let’s hurry.”
As they trooped across the blacktop, his cell chimed. Chris. He couldn’t talk now, even about the hoped-for job. He shoved the phone back in his pocket, looped his arm around Penny’s, and hurried into the store.
While the clerk rang up the purchase and activated the phone, Penny noticeably glanced around them from time to time.
As they headed for the exit, she stopped. “I need a bathroom break.” She scanned the front of the store. “Must be in the back.” Taking his hand, and threading her fingers through his, she guided him through children’s clothing and accessories. “I’ll be quick.”
Jake unzipped his jacket, and hung back, keeping watch for anyone from either direction. A short ways down the aisle to his left, an older, heavyset woman with a young child on her hip attempted to get a box down from a high shelf. The child whimpered and tugged on the woman’s hair.
She caught his glance and called out. “Young man, could you help me with this?”
He looked at the bathroom entrance, back at the woman, and without anyone else in sight, made a quick path to help the lady.
“Oh, thank you so much. I don’t know why they haven’t restocked the lower shelves with diapers. I really appreciate your help.” The whimpering turned into a full-blown cry. “Now, now, Jeremy. Grandma’s hurrying. Look at the nice man helping us.”
His fingertips could barely reach the bottom of the box. He took hold of the edge of the middle shelf and climbed onto the bottom one. As he got his fingers on the corner of the box, Penny’s voice pierced his ears.
“Jake! Jake!”
The box tumbled out of his hands, just missing the head of the woman. His foot slipped and he fell backwards. He yanked his body sideways to avoid the grandmother and child, sending him in an awkward position without footing. Pain shot through his hip when he hit the concrete. Sprawled at the woman’s shoes, he crawled a few feet and came up running.
When he reached the bathroom door, he collided with Penny, running out.
“What’s wrong?” He clutched her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“Did you see him?” Her eyes were wide, and her face strained with tension.
“No.” His head whipped side to side. “Who?”
“A man.” She leaned heavily into his chest.
A thin, redheaded woman came from behind Penny, stopping in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
He guided Penny to the side.
She lifted her head from his chest. “I’m sorry. I thought I…saw something in there.”
Eyes widening, the woman jumped away from the bathroom entrance. “Like what? I didn’t see anything.” She shuffled her feet. “You mean like a rat or something?”
“Yes. Yes, I think it was a rat.”
“Eww.” She glanced back at the bathroom floor and scurried away.
“What really happened?” He jerked at a shuffling noise behind him. A couple had stopped to scan a shelf of crib bumper pads. A toddler in tow by his mother now occupied the aisle from which he’d vaulted, and at the far end, a man examined a package of something.
Penny’s tense body relaxed away from him. “I was in the stall, and I heard footsteps. Then, it seemed like someone touched the door. A woman’s voice said, ‘You’re in the wrong one.’ I looked down and saw men’s shoes. That’s when I yelled. Where were you? Didn’t you see him?” She darted a glance side to side.
“Ah, hell. Some lady asked me to help her get something off a shelf. I turned my back for a few seconds.” Fear and regret swirled in his gut. “I’m sorry, Penny.”
“Maybe he was just some random guy who went in the wrong bathroom.”
“Doesn’t matter. I should’ve seen him.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “If it was him, he took a chance. We’ve got to get you to the sheriff. Let’s get out of here.”
****
When the guy and the Ricci woman turned down the next aisle toward the front of the store, Vince set the package of baby bibs back on the shelf. He’d half-considered entering the bathroom after the Ricci woman when he’d seen a man, then a second woman, go in. The idiot man must’ve gone in the wrong door. As he’d ducked around a corner to wait, he’d heard Ricci call out “Jake.”
Must be her boyfriend.
She’d been frightened, which meant they suspected he was after her.
He strolled toward the exit. Ricci and the guy named Jake were ahead and going out the door. What the hell was she doing? Outside, the couple got in their car. He headed to his in the row over. If she was afraid of being followed, why were they out shopping?
Vince picked up his pace, slid onto his seat, and buckled up. When they reached the parking lot exit, he wheeled out of the space and followed. She could’ve spilled her guts to the cops last night. But she’d kept quiet about her suspicions for thirteen years, so spilling her guts might not be her first reaction. He reassured himself she could only have suspicions. What proof could there be? None. But even voiced suspicions were enough to cause the senator problems.
If Ricci had gone to the cops this morning, she wouldn’t be out shopping. Accusations of the magnitude she’d have to make would tie her up for hours. Could their movements this morning mean they were running? Maybe they’d been at the house to pack suitcases. Came here and bought a phone. Probably a burner. If she thought he would come after her once the mix up was discovered, she’d run. After all, she’d been hiding for thirteen years. Why would she come forward now?
Running. That would be perfect. Maybe she didn’t have enough evidence for anyone to take her accusations seriously. He followed as they turned into another neighborhood. Maybe the Jake guy’s house. He dropped back farther as the traffic lightened to near non-existent in the housing district.
Ricci’s suspicions could cause Vince a few problems, too. He’d been the agent assigned to her family that ended up being labeled a mob hit. He’d cleaned the FBI files of any direct link to the senator. The initial report had been written in such a way to appear to be a witch-hunt by a disgruntled senior VP of Westingly with vague accusations about the disappearance of the controller’s assistant. That was then. Now? The case could be looked at again. He’d be brought in—unless the Ricci woman disappeared before the FBI became aware of the case reactivating.
What was she up to? Where was she going? Who had she told, if anyone? He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Fucking Westingly. Couldn’t let the last Ricci alone. Thirteen years and no threat. Dead case. No worries. And now…
The purple Dodge stopped in front of a tan, stucco, ranch style home. Vince continued on to the corner, turned and pulled alongside the sidewalk and an old oak tree. He opened his map on the steering wheel, but watched Ricci and Jake get out of the car then disappear into the house after knocking.
Probably not the guy’s house or they wouldn’t have knocked. What the hell? First shopping and now visiting someone. The woman she lives with gets murdered, and she’s just going about life as if nothing’s happened? Could that be possible? Man, that would be cold. He rubbed his eyes, threw the map aside, and shook his head. No. He couldn’t get his head around that.
His stomach churned. He had to have food and coffee, and remembered seeing a gas station just before the street into the neighborhood. He could keep an eye on their exit, if they left, and also get a newspaper to see what the press had to say about the Barker murder.
Pulling away from the curb, the options the Ricci girl had clicked through his thoughts like the woman was playing Russian roulette. Visit with whoever lived here, go home, go to the police station, or run.
If he saw the car leave before he got back to his stakeout, he could find her at the other two places.
If she ran? Good. He would, too, right into retirement. Mexico.
If she went to the cops, well, his strategy would have to be rethought, but not until they took it to the FBI. Which might never happen. Which might happen today.
He pulled into a parking space at the store and growled deep in his throat.
Fucking Westingly.
****
Lacy hadn’t asked questions when Penny and Jake appeared at her door. She was thankful her friend was patient and welcoming.
“I’m so sorry to hear what happened to Mandy.” Lacy closed the front door.
“I hope you don’t mind us just dropping in like this.”
“Of course not.” She hugged Penny then turned to Jake. “I’m happy to meet you, Jake.” He received a hug, too. “I’m so very sorry about your sister.”
“Thank you.” His eyes smiled at the warm reception.
Penny followed her friend into the entryway and across an American Indian style rug. Lacy’s long, ebony hair fell over her shoulders, and her jeans hugged a trim figure. She looked almost too youthful to be the mother of August.
“I really need to see Sheriff Meadowlark.”
The sheriff’s wife paused on the terra cotta colored tile floor between the entry and the living room. “Chance is probably at his office. Did you go by there?”
“I can’t…I mean, I hoped to speak with him in private. Here. Not at the sheriff’s department. About Mandy.”
Her friend frowned a moment, then slipped her arm around her shoulders with a nod at Jake to follow. “Let’s go into the living room.”
In spite of the fright at the store, and the urgency streaming through her to speak to the sheriff, her friend’s embrace had a calming effect.
“Please have a seat. I was about to have a cup of tea. Can I get you something to drink?”
She nodded. “I’ll have tea.”
“Sure. Something cold, if you have it.” Jake settled into a corner of the overstuffed sofa.
Penny sank onto the middle of the sofa. Her hand brushed at the woven material of terra cotta, turquoise, and black. They didn’t speak. He patted her shoulder once, and the reassurance gave her pleasure. She glanced around the comfortable living room with a southwest flair. Pictures of August and her family, and the sheriff’s daughter, Jenny, adorned the mantel of the stuccoed fireplace. Lacy returned with a ginger ale for Jake and tea for them.
From her chair, her friend smiled. “I’m sure Chance will be happy to speak with you, Penny, but you know, uh, what happened to Mandy will be handled by the city police department.”
“I know. It’s just that…” She glanced at Jake, but how much to say was really her decision. His sympathetic face seemed to reveal as much. “I have some information that could help find Mandy’s killer.”
Lacy’s eyes widened. “Have you told the police?”
“No. I can’t. I…I don’t know who to trust besides the sheriff.”
“Trust? Why wouldn’t you be able to trust the police?”
Penny leaned forward, set her cup on the coffee table, and rubbed her palms together. “I think whoever murdered Mandy meant to kill me. Thought she was me.”
Lacy’s expression changed from shock to disbelief.
“It’s a long story, and if I’m correct, then there are people within law enforcement and the government who have been complicit.” She rubbed her arms with the chill her words brought. The house was warm enough, but she wished Lacy would light the fireplace.
Her friend darted a glance at Jake, probably speculating on how far Penny had dropped from reality and into craziness. He responded by reaching for Penny’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
Lacy seemed satisfied with his reaction, and settled against the chair. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on, or just wait for Chance?”
“When will he be back?”
She stood. “I’ll see if he can come home now. My cell’s in the kitchen. I’ll call him.”
Beside her, Jake fidgeted and stretched his arm along the back of the couch.
“Don’t worry. I feel better just being here.” The jitters from what could’ve been a near miss in the ladies’ bathroom had subsided. “We’ll get them.” She picked up her cup and sipped the now tepid tea.
“They’ll get them. The sheriff will know how to take it from here. You just need to lay low, stay safe, and let the good guys nab the bad guys.”
Irritation prickled her neck. “You make the solution sound simple, but it isn’t.”
Gray eyes turned grayer. “Your part is simple, Penny. Tell your story.”
“Jake! I’m going to do whatever—”
“He’ll be here as soon as he can.” Lacy glided into the room. “Which, unfortunately, doesn’t sound too soon. He has some county business and then a meeting in the police department that can’t be avoided. Some arrangements he has to make. Senator Westingly is coming into town on Thursday for an appearance at party headquarters.” She picked up her empty teacup. “Have you two eaten?”
Like a belt had cinched around her waist, Penny sat straight and sucked in her breath. “Here?”
“What? You mean lunch? I could fix us—”
“No. Westingly. He’s coming to Flagstaff?” Her hand shook as she set her tea mug on the coffee table with a clunk.
“Yes, I think he’s making a tour of northern—”
“What time on Thursday?” Her breath quickened.
“I think Chance said midmorning.” Lacy tilted her head in puzzlement. “Why?”
“What does Sheriff Meadowlark have to do with the senator’s visit?”
“The Sheriff’s Department will be responsible for security when the senator’s outside city limits and in the county jurisdiction. Why, Penny? What’s wrong?”
She scooted to the edge of the sofa, her leg muscles tense as if ready to spring into action. “That man might have ordered Mandy’s murder.”
“The senator?” The shock in Lacy’s voice bounced off the walls.
Jake stirred, moving to the edge, and gripped her knee. “Penny—”
“Here, Jake.” Her fists balled, and she thumped the hand that gripped her leg. “Right here.”
“But there’s nothing you…you alone…can do. The sheriff will know what to do. Right?” He stared into her eyes, as if willing her to agree.
If the sheriff couldn’t help, if she couldn’t make anyone believe her, if her memory of the company records wasn’t enough, if the SIM card turned out to not be the evidence she thought it was…
“Right?”
Reluctantly, she nodded. To rant on the various scenarios with him now would be useless. He was convinced all would be well once the cops knew everything she knew.
Jake glanced at Lacy. “We haven’t eaten. Maybe Penny and I could help with lunch while we wait for the sheriff.”
As he rose, he clasped her arm and brought her with him. They followed Lacy to the kitchen. Before leaving the room, she glanced at her purse on the floor by the corner of the sofa. Her purse, and inside…the gun. What could she do if no one would listen? She had to do something, even if something meant confronting the senator on her own.
****
No one stirred in the middle class neighborhood. Vince had finished his turkey on white bread a few hours ago. He’d made two trips for coffee and changed the location of his parked car three times. A third cup of coffee would’ve suited him, but he didn’t need to imprint his face too solidly in the minds of the clerks. The last of his second cup of coffee went down cold when a dark green Jeep pulled onto the driveway of the house he watched. He punched the lock on the glove box and yanked out binoculars.
A man, taller than himself, but probably less than six feet and dressed in some sort of dark brown uniform, emerged from the truck. Vince quickly raised the binoculars and focused. Military? The sleeves had gold colored rings at the bottom of the arms, and a patch near the shoulder. He could make out only the top word on the patch: Sheriff. The man didn’t knock, but opened the door and entered.
Like he owned the place.
Vince lowered the binoculars. Ricci apparently knew the Coconino County Sheriff, yet had kept her mouth shut about murder for thirteen years. Then she slipped up and got her housemate killed. He shook his head while rubbing his eyes. The question remained: had she told the cops anything yet? Hard to believe she had. As the Special Agent of record, he’d be notified, vacation or not. If she’d told the local cops about the family killings, the tie-in to Westingly, the involvement of the FBI…the old case would be reactivated, and he’d have gotten a call.
He had a bad feeling things were about to change.
There were very few details in the local morning paper, which told him the cops were puzzled and not ready to even speculate to the public. The details in an unsolved case would be guarded. The Arizona paper had nothing. Westingly probably wouldn’t notice the lack of press until tomorrow. A woman two doors down stepped out of her house and gazed in his direction. He pulled his map up and ruffled the paper a bit for effect then tossed it on the seat. Time to move again. He drove out to the intersecting street and pulled alongside the curb in front of a house with closed blinds and no cars in the drive. With the motor running, he again pulled out the map and rested it on the steering wheel.
Until now, he was confident his tracks had been covered. His reputation and service with the Bureau were exemplary. There couldn’t be any reason to cast doubt on him. He and the Ricci woman had never met. If he got a call from the Bureau on the Barker murder, he’d take the case like he should. Until then, he’d watch her, then take her out when the opportunity presented itself. She might have something on Westingly’s crooked deals with government contracts, but beyond that—only speculation. She couldn’t possibly have real evidence that would tie Vince to Westingly.
A tiny spear of concern pierced his thoughts. If she’d been warned away by her parents or brother that day, had the warning given any hint of his presence?
That scenario seemed unlikely since she’d never spoken up. And it seemed improbable that any one of them had had the chance to warn her. So, what the hell could she do at this point in time?
Son of a bitch.
He’d go crazy thinking like this.
****
They sat at the kitchen table drinking Chai tea while Penny told her tale, flanked by Jake at one end and Sheriff Meadowlark at the other. A sense of safety surrounded her. Lacy sat opposite her, quiet, warming the tea when needed, and listening.
The sheriff asked her to start from the beginning. The more detail she revealed, the deeper she dove into memories and emotions suppressed for so long. At first, she spoke haltingly, waves of sadness and confusion relived. Angie’s disappearance after taking her suspicions to Clyde Westingly still stung.
“When I went to my father with what I knew, he didn’t appear surprised. He had me quit my internship with the company under the pretext that my school schedule was too busy. Plus, they needed to replace Angie, and I couldn’t work without an immediate supervisor. He told me he’d look into her suspicions. After a methodical investigation, his conclusions were damning for Clyde Westingly and his cronies.”
As her story unfolded, a slow simmering anger pushed her forward. “My father knew that if he came forward and blew the whistle on Clyde Westingly, our family could be in danger. Had Angie not disappeared, he might’ve not been so cautious. Even back then, there were rumblings about Westingly’s political aspirations. But keeping quiet was never an option for him. He had to do the right thing.” Her chest ached with missing her dad as she spoke of him. He was a loving father, but also a man she respected above all others. “He came up with a plan to protect us in case the authorities couldn’t. His worst case scenario came to be.”
As she retold the day her brother texted her the code, the shock experienced came to mind easier than the numbness that enveloped her as she made her escape. The only fact skipped was the existence of the SIM card. Even with the sheriff, she cautiously held close the most damning evidence. The pulse in her ears throbbed in her temples. She sipped her tea. “Dad had drummed the routine into us: throw away the phone, abandon your car, go to the bank, and empty all the new identity from the box. Buy a car and escape.”
Reliving that day, she could smell the sickening sweet scent from the coconut oil air freshener in the purple Dodge. She’d yanked the yellow cardboard palm tree from the rearview mirror before leaving the sales lot. The purchase had been easy. Her father had specified the dealer in the plan. The sales staff asked few questions when a customer walked in the door with cash.
Driving to Flagstaff, the nerves had set in. She’d stared at the burner phone, wishing and praying for a call that didn’t come. Had never come.
“The report of my family’s murder in the newspaper article had been my notification.” The Styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand had crushed in her grasp when she’d seen the headlines that day. Left alone in the world, Mandy had rescued her.
Her first night in Flagstaff, the waitress with jet-black hair piled messily on top of her head, black eyeliner, and pale skin had befriended a cold, lonely girl. Fingernails in black tapped the back of her order pad as she took her order with eyes that conveyed so much more.
“I want you to take this.” After setting a cup of hot coffee on the table, Mandy handed her a heavy, black, lumpy knit sweater. “You look a little sad and a lot cold. If you get something warmer than that jacket you have on, you can bring back the sweater. But if you don’t, or maybe can’t, hey, no worry. Keep it. Such as it is.”
Mandy had been her savior, and Penny got her killed.
The tale ended, silence rained down, and she blinked. No one moved. The only sound came from the clock on the wall behind her, ticking away the minutes. Her hands rested in her lap, at the end of weightless arms. When she’d told Jake about herself and how responsible she’d been for Mandy’s death, remorse and fear had at first filled her, but numbness quickly followed. Being numb protected her feelings. Now, a confession of such magnitude had spewed from deep within her, and she was drained from reliving so many emotions.
But not empty.
Although lighter from the release, fire now built from within. Anger replaced remorse, and hate shoved aside the fear. She wasn’t a scared teenager anymore. The senator and his henchman would pay for this.
She lifted her gaze from the table where she’d focused as she pulled all the past together, and stared at the sheriff. He leaned back, his copper eyes seeming to blaze for a moment. Still, he remained in thought, a slight furrow of his brow, a tick of his index finger on the table. Penny sensed his cop brain calculating.
“I’m going to start us some dinner in a bit.” Lacy rose and turned toward the refrigerator. “You can continue your discussion while I cook.”
Jake’s cell rang. “It’s my dad.”
“Go, go.” She shooed him away.
“I can understand your reluctance to trust anyone.” Sheriff Meadowlark finally spoke. “And I appreciate your faith in me, Penny. My advice is to tell all of this to Detective Ranclin.”
“Do you think what I know, what I have, is enough to put the senator away and to find the murderer?”
“You’re tackling some powerful people. The FBI. A senator.” He raked a hand through his hair, removed the band holding his short ponytail, and scratched the back of his head. “I’m not sure what enough is when it comes to accusing government entities.”
“I’ve got more than accusations, Sheriff. I have a photographic memory. If someone can get into the company records, what I’m telling you can be proven.”
“Let’s talk to Ranclin.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “I trust him. You can trust him.”
“He wouldn’t be in the office this late, would he? These two look exhausted. Can it wait until tomorrow, Chance?” Lacy came beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “They should stay here tonight. Right?”
“Yes. Both of you will spend the night here.” He glanced at the clock again. “We’ll see Ranclin in the morning.”
Jake came back to the table without a sound. Penny’s chest pinched when she saw his watery eyes and downturned mouth. Talking to his parents about his sister’s murder must be awful. She clenched her jaw. Of course, it would be.
“I’ll do anything to get him, Sheriff. Maybe…I…could be bait or something.”
“Jesus, Penny,” Jake’s voice rasped. “Let the cops handle this.”
“I’m in the middle of this, Jake, like it or not. I’m the only one who can put Senator Clyde Westingly away. We stop Westingly, we stop the murderer.” She stared imploringly into his gray, worried eyes.
If we can get to Westingly before the murderer gets to me.
****
Nearly an hour had gone by and no sign of the purple car or jeep leaving the area. Vince drove around the block, noted all the cars still at the house, and parked several houses down from where he’d parked earlier and could see the house clearly. It was getting dark. The front door opened, light spilling onto the front porch from inside. Through his binoculars, he watched the man, who’d been with the Ricci woman, go to the car. He opened the trunk and lifted a suitcase and a duffle bag then reentered the house. They were there for the night—spending the night at the Coconino County Sheriff’s house. And a sheriff’s house was bound to have tight security measures in place.
Absurd. He shifted into drive. This whole fucking mess had reached a level of absurdity he could barely grasp. Turning out of the neighborhood, he headed to the Sedona resort. He needed a steak dinner, a bottle of wine, and a bed. He’d be back at the sheriff’s house at dawn.
It was only a matter of time until he got the call from the Bureau.
Ricci knew someone would come looking for her. Sleeping at the sheriff’s house was safe. And tomorrow? He’d lay odds she’d finally go to the cops with her story. He’d be called in as the agent on record. Only a matter of time. But he was clean. The senator, on the other hand, was headed for a big headache. Could he take her out before the accusations hit the media? Once that happened, the senator would do everything in his power to point the finger…at me.
To protect himself, he had to protect the senator.
****
Jake stood just inside the doorway of the room where Penny would sleep. The walls were deep lavender and the carpet a plush cream. The room was definitely girlie decor. She’d been given Jenny’s old room, the daughter he’d met at the Rendezvous when he’d had hot chocolate with Mandy. His sister’s mischievous grin came to mind, and a deep ache tightened every muscle in his body.
As Penny lifted her suitcase onto the pale lavender bedspread, he thought of her nervous response when he’d seen her close the drawer on the cabinet at Mandy’s. He had a good idea of what she’d really been doing. When she’d retreated to her room, he’d found the empty gun case. His father had taught both his children how to fire rifles and pistols. Mandy had loved target shooting and always owned some kind of gun. He’d wanted to call Penny on it, but for now, remaining in her good graces was more important. If she pulled away from him, staying close to keep her safe would be more difficult.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay? Alone?” He wasn’t asking to spend the night in her bed. And though she was perfectly safe under the sheriff’s roof, he wanted to protect her and let her know he was there for whatever she might need.
He craved some time alone to think through the events so far, test his feelings, and grieve a little, too. But he also needed to be close to her at the same time.
“I’m not really alone, am I?”
“No. Not really.” Jake surveyed the room, then stepped to the window facing the street. He nudged the curtains aside and scanned in both directions. No one visible. No parked cars with hidden murderers lurking. At the corner of the eave were motion lights. The sheriff probably had other security options.
She stepped behind him. “See anyone?”
“No.” He turned back in time to see her shoulders relax. “Not even the duty officer the sheriff said would be driving by all night.”
“No need to worry, Jake. The sheriff checked the locks on the window, and the officer will be making rounds.”
Dark circles adorned her eyes. Exhaustion radiated from her.
With a light finger to her chin, he lifted her face. “Get some sleep. We’ll see the detective in the morning and get you out of this nightmare.”
“If only it’s as simple as that.”
He followed the line of her chin with his thumb, then dropped his hand to her shoulder. “You weren’t serious about being bait, were you?” Knowing Mandy’s gun probably hid within her purse had him nervous about her intentions.
“I’ll do whatever I need to do to get these guys.” Her eyes, so dark brown they appeared black, gleamed with fierceness.
He gripped her shoulder more firmly, wanting to keep her grounded in sanity. “They’ll use the SIM card and what you know, and it’ll all be over. They’ll get Westingly and whoever else is involved.”
“And if they don’t?” Her voice pitch rose. “If they don’t believe me or won’t use what I know or think the SIM card is too circumstantial?”
“We’ll figure out what to do.”
She shook her head and huffed a sigh. “I have figured it out, Jake. I’m getting these guys one way or another, if I have to pull the trigger myself.”
“Ah hell, Penny. Now you’re talking revenge.”
“Yes, that’s just what I’m talking.”
He stared into her face, saw the hate and the clear seriousness with which she uttered her intentions. His father’s words from earlier in the evening echoed in his head. “Why, why would anyone do this to our baby?”
His eyes burned and his vision blurred. Revenge would be satisfying. And yet, invoking revenge in the name of justice seemed like a sure fire path to hell. He’d only this year walked out of his own kind of hell.
Jake blinked, brought Penny’s face back into focus; his gut tightened at the thought of the pistol. He sure as hell was not letting her get out of his sight.
“That kind of sentiment can eat you alive.” He let his hand trail down her arm, and clasped her hand. “Let’s see what the cops say. Sheriff Meadowlark will help you get through this.”
“I know he’ll do what he can. But if it’s not enough…”
Grabbing her other hand, he pulled her close. “What then?”
He was afraid for her—afraid for himself. He’d only just found her, and a peace he’d not had in years, a short-lived peace now shattered. Penny had gotten Mandy killed. His throat constricted as he fought a rising panic. She could be next—should already be dead anyway. He couldn’t stop the vision from crossing his mind of his sister, face down, trussed like an animal and bloody. She took the bullet for Penny.
She pulled away, mouth a thin line, and turned to her suitcase.
Had his thoughts shown on his face? He didn’t want to blame her.
“You don’t have to help me, Jake.” Her tone came off casual while she opened her case and pulled out Batgirl pajamas.
“Help you what?”
She didn’t answer right away, taking the time to toss her pajamas on the bed and close the case before answering. “I’m not saying I won’t give the proper channels a try. But you heard Lacy. Senator Westingly will be here, right here in Flagstaff. On Thursday.”
“What do you think you can do? March in and demand he admit to fraud and murder?”
She let her gaze drop to the floor.
“Penny?” What the hell was she thinking?
Looking up, she slowly blinked and sighed. “We need to go to bed. I can’t think clearly, I’m so tired.”
Subject closed.
The distance between them spanned greater than the few steps it would take to reach her. The ache in his chest, the pounding in his head, and the sadness filling his soul weighed so heavy he could barely put one foot in front of the other.
Penny stared at the closed door. Jake had left without much fanfare—no hugs, no kiss. As time passed, the manner in which he dealt with the shock of losing his sister so violently, and knowing someone else should’ve been lying dead in her place, would progress in stages. She could see reality setting in by the hardened lines in his face. His earlier declarations of not blaming her, of caring for her, and sticking by her side, had probably turned bitter on his tongue.
She shrugged out of her clothes and slipped into the flannel. When she turned off the overhead light, a shiver traveled her body, and she immediately turned the light on again. The dark was now scary. The bathroom light could serve as a nightlight, and the bedroom light could be extinguished. With the room now dimly lit, she climbed into bed.
Jake didn’t feel the same as she did about getting revenge. He seemed almost repulsed by the idea.
Well, too damn bad.
To her, the idea had an overwhelming appeal, gave her a sense of exhilaration when she considered getting to the senator. He’d stolen too many people from her life. Ruining his career, hopefully putting him behind bars, wouldn’t bring back any of them, but she’d get some payback for all the heartache he’d caused. Too bad the senator wouldn’t be in town until Thursday. She’d have to go ahead and talk to the detective tomorrow as the sheriff advised.
But if they couldn’t get these guys, her days of hiding and letting a murderer rise to power were over. As a child, she’d followed her father’s instructions; she’d lived in a cocoon of fear and stayed safe.
“Sorry, Dad. Your little girl is an adult, and it’s time for her to stand up and do the right thing like you did.”