Countdown (3 page)

“I promised her I’d take care of him.” She could feel the tears sting her eyes. “I didn’t do it, Joe. I don’t know what happened. Everything went wrong.”

“You did your best.”

“Don’t tell me that. I didn’t
do
it.”

“Okay, but Sandra had no right to saddle you with that kind of responsibility.”

“She’s Eve’s mother. She loves Mike. Hell, I love Mike. I’d have done it anyway.”

“We’ll wait in the hall,” Sergeant Fox said. “Whenever you’re ready to make a statement, Ms. MacGuire.”

“Wait a minute. I’ll go with you,” Joe said. “I want to talk to you about the investigation.” He turned to Jane. “I’ll be right back. I want an update and then I’ll go back to the nurse’s desk and see if I can get more info about Mike.”

“I’ll go with you.”

He shook his head. “You’re upset and it shows. They’ll be walking on eggshells around you. Let me do it. I’ll get right back to you.”

“I don’t want to sit—” She stopped. He was right. She wiped her wet cheeks on the back of her hand. She couldn’t stop crying, dammit. “Hurry, Joe.”

“I’ll hurry.” He brushed his lips on her forehead. “You did nothing wrong, Jane.”

“That’s not true,” she said shakily. “I didn’t save him. Nothing could be more wrong than that.”

2
                                                                                          

S
o what do you know about these sons of bitches?” Joe asked as soon as he was out of the room. “Any witnesses when they took off out of that alley?”

Manning shook his head. “No one’s come forward yet. We’re not even sure there weren’t more than two men.”

“Great.”

“Look, we’re doing the best we can. This is a college town, and every parent of every student is going to be on our ass when they hear about this.”

“And they should be.”

“Ms. MacGuire offered to sketch the face of one of the perpetrators. Will it be accurate?”

Joe nodded curtly. “If she saw him, you’ll be able to use it. She’s damn good.”

Fox lifted a brow. “You wouldn’t be prejudiced?”

“Definitely. All the way. But it’s still true. I’ve watched her do sketches of people she’d seen for only an instant while she was under extreme duress, and they were absolutely correct in every detail.”

“The motive seems to be murky. Do you have the kind of money that would tempt someone to make a snatch?”

“I’m not a Rockefeller or a Dupont but I’m comfortable.” He shrugged. “Who the hell knows how much money it would take? I’ve seen drug addicts who’d cut their mother’s throat for ten bucks.” He glanced at his watch. Eve should be on her way here with her mother. Jesus, he’d hoped to have something to tell them. “What about tire tracks? DNA evidence?”

“We’ve got forensics going over the alley with a fine-tooth comb.” Manning glanced over his shoulder at the waiting-room door. “She’s a tough lady.”

“You bet she is.” Tough and loyal and loving and, dammit, she’d had enough trouble in her life without this happening to her.

“She was your ward?”

Joe nodded. “She’s been with us since she was ten. Before that she was in a dozen foster-care facilities and virtually grew up on the streets.”

“But she’s been on Easy Street since she’s been with you.”

“If you call working every spare hour to pay her way through college Easy Street. Jane doesn’t take anything she can’t pay for.”

“I wish I could say that about my son.” Fox was frowning. “She looks . . . familiar. She reminds me of someone. There’s something about her face.”

Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. “You’re right. She’s damn beautiful.” He changed the subject. “Which brings us back to another possible motive. Rape? Or white slavery?”

“We’re checking with Vice on any report of—”

“Shit.” The elevator doors had opened, and Joe saw Eve and Sandra get out. “Look, there’s Mike Fitzgerald’s mother. I’ve got to take her and Eve in to Jane. But I promised Jane a report on Mike. Will you try to pump one of those nurses and see what you come up with?”

“Sure. I’ll do it,” Manning said as he started down the hall. “You go back and take care of your family.”

T
ough bastard. For a minute there I felt as if I was getting the third degree. I don’t know if I’d be able to keep my mind on the investigation if my family was involved,” Manning said as they headed for the nurses’ station. “And it’s clear he cares about the girl.”

“Yeah.” Fox was still frowning thoughtfully. “Protective as the devil. Who did you say her—” He suddenly snapped his fingers. “Eve Duncan!”

“What?”

“She said she lived with Eve Duncan.”

“So?”

“So I remember who the kid reminds me of.”

“Duncan?”

“No, I saw a Discovery Channel show about a year ago about one of the reconstructions Duncan did of an actress buried in the ruins of Herculaneum two thousand years ago. At least, it was supposed to be her, but there was some kind of big investigation connected with . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t remember. I’ll have to go back and check on it. All I recall was that there was a big fuss about it at the time.”

“You’re getting off track. Who does Jane MacGuire remind you of?”

Manning glanced at him in surprise. “I’m not off track. It was the reconstruction. She’s a dead ringer for that woman Eve Duncan was supposed to be doing the reconstruction of.” He hesitated, searching for a name. “Cira.”

Cira.

The name was triggering memory in Manning too. He had a vague recollection of a statue and the reconstruction side by side in a newspaper. “Convenient. Then maybe Duncan isn’t as good at her job as she—” He broke off as the door to the operating room opened and two green-garbed doctors strode out. “It looks like we may not have to do any pumping. The operation must be over.”

S
andra looked terrible, Jane thought when Joe, Eve, and Sandra walked into the waiting room. Haggard, pale, and twenty years older than when she’d seen her a month ago.

“I don’t understand.” Sandra stared at Jane accusingly. “What happened?”

“I told you what happened.” Eve’s hand closed supportingly on Sandra’s arm. “Jane doesn’t know any more than we do.”

“She has to know more. She was there.” Her lips tightened. “And what the hell were you doing in that alley behind a bar with my son, Jane? You should have known that all kinds of drug addicts and criminals could be hanging—”

“Easy, Sandra,” Eve said quietly. “I’m sure that she has an explanation. It’s not her fault that—”

“I don’t care whose fault it is. I want answers.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “And she promised me that—”

“I tried.” Jane’s hands clenched into fists at her side. “I didn’t know—I thought I was doing the right thing, Sandra.”

“He’s only a boy,” Sandra said. “My boy. He came to me from that dreadful mother and he became
mine
. This shouldn’t have happened to him. It shouldn’t have happened to us.”

“I know.” Jane’s voice was shaking. “I love him too. He’s always been like a little brother to me. I always tried to take care of him.”

“You did take care of him,” Joe said. “Sandra’s upset or she’d remember all the times you pulled him out of scrapes and kept him on the right path.”

“You talk as if he was a bad kid,” Sandra said. “Sometimes he didn’t think, but every boy has moments that—”

“He
is
a great kid.” Jane took a step closer. She wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but Sandra stiffened and Jane stopped. “He’s smart and sweet and he—”

“Quinn?” Manning stood in the doorway. “The operation is over and Doctor Benjamin is on his way to talk to you all. Fox and I will get in touch with you later.”

The detective was carefully looking at no one but Joe, avoiding everyone else’s eyes, Jane realized.

Oh, God.

“Mike?” Sandra whispered. “Mike?” She’d interpreted Manning’s action the same way Jane had, and her eyes were wide with terror.

“The doctor will talk to you.” Manning quickly turned and left the room, passing the surgeon on his way out.

Doctor Benjamin’s expression was grave and sympathetic—and sad.

“No,” Jane whispered. “No. No. No.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “I can’t tell you how—”

Sandra screamed.

H
e’s dead, Trevor,” Bartlett said. “The kid died on the operating table.”

“Shit.” It was the worst-case scenario in an already bad situation. “When?”

“Two hours ago. They just left the hospital. Jane looked like hell.”

Trevor swore. “Are Quinn and Eve with her?”

“Yes, they showed up at the hospital right before the kid died.”

Then at least Jane had family support and protection. “Do you know when they’re having the funeral?”

“Hey, it just happened. And you told me to watch her but not to contact her.”

“Find out.”

“Are you going to the funeral?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do you want me to come back to the Run?”

“Hell, no. Stay there and keep an eye on her. She’s more vulnerable now than ever.”

“You think it was Grozak?”

“Good chance. The coincidence is a little too pat for comfort. They wanted Jane and the kid got in the way.”

“Sad.” Bartlett’s voice was heavy. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I failed her. I had no idea. It happened so fast. She disappeared with the kid into the alley and the next thing I knew the car was roaring out into the street.”

“It wasn’t your fault. We weren’t even sure that Grozak was on the scene. You hadn’t seen any suspicious signs.”

“Sad,” Bartlett repeated. “Life is precious and he was very young.”

“So is Jane. And I don’t want Grozak to get his hands on her. Watch her.”

“You know I will. But I’m not competent enough to handle types like Grozak if the situation becomes dicey. As you know, I have a brilliant mind but no lethal training. You’d better send Brenner or come yourself.”

“Brenner is in Denver.”

“Then you have no choice, do you?” Bartlett asked. “You’ll have to make contact with her and tell her.”

“And let Grozak know his guess was on target? No way. He could have been playing a hunch when he sent men to Harvard. I don’t want to confirm anything that would indicate Jane may be important to Cira’s gold.”

“Pretty rough play for a hunch. He killed Mike Fitzgerald.”

“Not too rough for Grozak. I’ve seen him cut a man’s throat for accidentally stepping on his toes. He’s probably the most vicious son of a bitch I’ve ever run across. But this was too clumsy. Whoever shot the kid ran off his mouth and tipped his hand. It was probably Leonard, and I’d bet Grozak didn’t order the kill. It’s more likely Leonard screwed up.”

“Then maybe he’ll back off now that Jane’s on guard and surrounded by family.”

“Maybe.” He hoped Bartlett was right, but he couldn’t count on it. “Maybe not. Stay as close as her shadow.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Christ, he’d hoped the kid would pull through. Not only because innocent bystanders weren’t fair game, but because Jane didn’t need another scar. She’d suffered enough wounds growing up in the slums to last her for a lifetime. Not that she’d ever talked about her childhood. Their time together had been too wary for confidences. Too wary for any normal personal interchange. But then nothing about their interaction four years ago had been normal. It had been stimulating, terrifying, disturbing, and . . . sensual. Christ, yes, sensual. Memories he’d carefully suppressed were surfacing and his body was tensing, responding as if she were standing before him instead of being in that college town hundreds of miles away.

Send those memories back where they came from. This was the worst possible time to let sex enter the picture. Not only for him but for Jane MacGuire.

If he could keep her at a distance, it would increase her chances of survival.

S
he’s sleeping now.” Eve came out of the hotel bedroom into the sitting room and carefully closed the door. “The doctor gave her a sedative strong enough to knock an elephant out.”

“The only problem with that is she’ll have it all to face again when she wakes up,” Jane said. “I knew it would be bad for her, but I had no idea she’d completely fall apart. Ever since I was a kid, she seemed almost as strong as you are, Eve.”

“She is strong. She kicked the drug habit, she helped me through that nightmare when my Bonnie was killed. She built a new life and a new marriage for herself and then survived a divorce from Ron.” Eve rubbed her temple. “But the loss of a child can destroy everything. It almost destroyed me.”

“Where’s Joe?”

“He’s making arrangements for the funeral. Sandra wants to take Mike home to Atlanta. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ll go with you. You’re staying with her tonight?”

Eve nodded. “I want to be here when she wakes up. She may not sleep as well as we hope.”

“Or she might have nightmares.” Jane added wearily, “But it seems being awake is the nightmare. I can’t believe it happened. I can’t believe Mike is—” She had to stop as her voice broke. She started again a moment later. “Sometimes life doesn’t make sense. He had everything to live for. Why did it—” She stopped again. “Dammit, I lied to him. He was so scared. I told him to trust me, that I’d make sure he was okay. He believed me.”

“And it gave him comfort. You didn’t know it was a lie. In a way it was more of a prayer.” Eve leaned back in the chair. “I’m glad you were there for him. When some of the pain fades for Sandra, she’ll be glad too. She knows how much Mike cared about you, how much you helped him.”

“Maybe he didn’t really feel like— He said a few things last night when I came to get him that— Mike wasn’t the most secure kid in the world, and I was tough on him sometimes.”

“And you were wonderful to him ninety percent of the time. So stop playing what-might-have-been. You can’t ever win that game. Think of the good times.”

“It’s hard to do right now. All I can remember is that bastard shooting Mike. Perhaps it was my fault. I acted instinctively when he attacked. Maybe if I hadn’t resisted, he would have just robbed us. Mike asked me why I didn’t give him the money. He didn’t ask for money, but perhaps if I’d given him a chance to—”

“You said that the other man said something about getting the girl. That doesn’t sound like robbery.”

“No. You’re right. I’m not thinking clearly.” She wearily pushed back her chair and stood up. “Maybe it was going to be a rape or a kidnapping, like Manning said. Who the hell knows?” She headed for the door. “I’m going back to my dorm and pack. I’ll see you in the morning. Call me if you need me.”

“What I need is for you to remember the good things about your years with Mike.”

“I’ll try.” She paused and then looked back over her shoulder. “Do you know what I remember most? It was when we were kids together and Mike had left home and was hiding out in an alley a few blocks from his house. His mother was a prostitute, and you know how bad it was for Mike whenever his father came home. I’d bring him food and at night I’d slip out of the house and go to keep him company. He was only six and he was scared at night. He got scared a lot. But it was better when I was there. I’d tell him stories and he’d—” Jesus, she was choking up again. “He’d go to sleep.” She opened the door. “And now he’s never going to wake up again.”