Elusive (On The Run Book #1) (26 page)

“Eddie and Francesca certainly had
the same business philosophy,” Zoe said dryly. “Eliminate anyone who got in
their way. Connor was a threat to Francesca’s fake ID business, and Jack was a
threat to her very existence. No wonder she went after both of them.”

“What I don’t understand is why
Francesca and Roy let Jack...well, live in the first place, back when they staged
her death,” Helen murmured, her attention on changing lanes and avoiding the
car braking in front of her. Then she seemed to realize what she’d said and
looked quickly at Zoe to see how she was handling the topic.

It was that concerned,
walking-on-eggshell glance that got to Zoe. She closed her eyes. “It’s okay,”
she said, opening her eyes and squaring her shoulders.

Talking about Jack with Helen was
different from talking about him with her new best friends at the FBI. She
could do this, at least for a little bit. After all, Helen had stood up for her
after Zoe had ditched her and left town. The least Zoe could do was fill in the
blanks for her.

“In the beginning, I think it must
have been Roy who convinced Francesca that Jack wasn’t a risk. Roy didn’t want
to kill him. Roy placated Francesca by saying that he’d keep an eye on Jack and
make sure he didn’t find out. If Jack did discover the truth, Roy must have
told Francesca that he’d take care of Jack, but I don’t think Roy would have.
He tried to warn us off in Naples. Roy followed us to Venice and tried to convince
Francesca not to kill us. And, in the end, he was the one who prevented her
from shooting Jack.”

The car was silent as they left
the freeway and navigated the streets of Zoe’s neighborhood. “Want to get some
take out and come over to our house?” Helen asked, as they rolled to a stop in
front of Zoe’s house.

Zoe climbed out. “No, I need some
time alone.”

“Okay,” Helen said, “I’ll let you
off this time, but I’m not going to let you become a recluse. You already spend
too much time by yourself as it is. It’s not good for you to be cooped up in
your house all day.”

Zoe grinned. “What are you talking
about? I just got back from Europe.”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Next week.
Lunch?”

“Sure.” Zoe swung the door shut,
grabbed her mail, and turned for a final wave before she rounded the house to
enter through the back door to the kitchen. Inside, she dropped the mail on the
counter.

––––––––

––––––––

––––––––

MORT left Zoe in the lobby with
her friend and returned to his desk. Sato was shrugging into his suit jacket.
“I’m heading out.”

“Meeting Chloe?” Mort asked.

“She’s out of town. Cousin’s
wedding,” Sato said with distaste, pulling his shirtsleeves and adjusting his
tie.

“You didn’t want to go with her?”

“You’re kidding, right? Never go
to a wedding with a chick. It messes with their minds.”

“Come by our house tonight then.
Pizza and a movie,” Mort offered.

“Nah. There’s a new tapas bar in
Uptown,” Sato said as he handed off the Jack Andrews file to Mort.

“You were kind of hard on her,”
Mort said, lifting the file to Sato’s back. He was already moving to the door.

Sato jostled his car keys
impatiently as he turned back. “We had to know. We had to ask her, see her
reaction.”

“So you don’t think she was
acting? She was genuinely shocked at the thought Andrews might be alive?”

“Yeah,” Sato said, his eyebrows
coming down in a frown. “Didn’t you?”

“I thought so, too,” Mort said.

Sato gave him a nod, a little
raise of his chin. “Almost got this one wrapped up. See you Monday.”

Mort tapped the file against his
palm. Things were coming together. Stefano was responsible for Connor Freeman’s
death, which had been initiated at the behest of Francesca, who was living
under an assumed identity. Her exclusive identity theft ring, which catered to
the champagne and caviar set in the criminal world had been exposed, and her
accomplice, Eddie, would soon be facing a wide range of charges.

Yep, it was all coming together
neatly. Even the missing money was back. Neat and tidy, all loose ends tied up.
Too neatly? Sato was good at reading people, and he’d thought Zoe Hunter had
been truly shocked at the idea Jack had survived. Mort agreed with that
assessment. Her face had that shell-shocked immobility he’d seen before that
was difficult to fake. And the paperwork, his specialty, was in order. He’d
poured over the bank forms earlier today and couldn’t find a decimal point out
of place.

He reached to toss the file in the
bin at the side of his desk along with their other closed cases. A few more
days and their part in this investigation would be mostly over. His hand
hovered in mid-air. After a few seconds, he dropped it on his desk instead.
He’d just keep an eye on things.

––––––––

––––––––

––––––––

ZOE had made herself a huge bowl
of mac-and-cheese. Comfort food. After she rinsed the bowl, she wiped the
cabinets down. When she got to the little glass jar half-filled with change,
she paused. Her travel fund. Well, she was an international traveler now. No
passport stamp to show for it, she thought ruefully. How hard was it going to
be to get a new passport? Maybe that nice investigator, Mort, would help her
out. She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. The kitchen looked
exactly the same. The unfinished ceiling gaped, exposing wood and wiring. The
island was covered with a spread of paper and her laptop, which was off. She
hadn’t touched it since she’d returned.

A gust of wind rattled the window
screen, the sink in the hall bathroom dripped with a steady plink in four-four
time that she could have set a metronome by. The air conditioner clicked on
with a gusty heave. All familiar, comforting sounds, but there were a whole
symphony of missing sounds. The creak of the floorboard upstairs under Jack’s
foot, the low murmur of his voice, which had always carried down stairs when he
was on the phone, the thud of his closet door when he closed it.

Zoe shook her head. Work. She’d
work. She had plenty to do. She needed to find a new tenant for Kiki’s office.
As for GRS’s office...she didn’t know if she could rent it. Would she even have
access to it? She’d have to find out. That could wait. Right now, she’d focus
on her e-mail. Her next editing job from Smart Travel was probably sitting in
her e-mail waiting for her. While she waited for her computer to whir through
its start-up routine, she opened the stack of mail. Helen had brought it in for
her each day and she had a pile of bills (too many), catalogues (why did they
send them to her? She hadn’t bought anything from a catalogue in years), and
junk mail.

She was several envelopes deep
into the stack when she opened a credit card offer, dropped the envelope into
the trash, then slapped the preprinted offer into the stack to be shredded.
Then she paused, running her fingers over the paper. It was lumpy as if
something else had been placed inside the folded paper that offered her free
balance transfers and a low APR. She picked it up, unfolding the paper.

A thin woven bracelet fell into
her palm. She frowned, smoothing the creases in the paper as she scanned it.
Instead of a chart with dates and interest rates, there was a white lined sheet
of paper with a ragged edge, like it had been torn from a notebook. Her heart
began to beat faster as she studied a small sketch of water and buildings.
Venice. Amazing how a few strokes of black ink could convey the arched bridges,
the flash of light on the water, the buildings on either side of the water. The
rest of the page was blank, except for the slight imprint where the bracelet
had rested.

She twisted the bracelet in her
hand, its texture silky and its color dark red shot through with copper and
gold strands. Her heart was thudding as she realized it was hair. Her hair.

“Jack,” she whispered. “I’m gonna
kill you when you show up.”

But she was smiling.

––––––––

The Ellie Avery Mysteries

––––––––

Moving is Murder

Staying Home is a Killer

Getting Away is Deadly

Magnolias, Moonlight, and Murder

Mint Juleps, Mayhem, and Murder

Mimosas, Mischief, and Murder

Mistletoe, Merriment, and Murder

––––––––

Many thanks to my first readers
Lauren Rosett as well as John and Edwyna Honderich. Mark Honderich provided
expertise on Dallas traffic and locales. David P. Vandagriff, AKA The Passive
Guy, helped with legal questions. Thanks to TJ, who helped get the manuscript
ready for readers. Couldn’t have done it without you all. Thanks so much!

––––––––

Thanks for reading
Elusive
! I hope you enjoyed
it. I love to hear from readers and reviews are appreciated. Honest reviews are
one of the most helpful ways to support authors. I had a wonderful time writing
and researching
Elusive
.
You can view pictures that inspired me as well as some photos from my trip to
Naples and Venice at the
Elusive board
on Pinterest. While the events involving Zoe and Jack are purely fictional, the
mention of the mafia member who was arrested because of his discarded designer
socks came straight from the headlines. You can find out more about me and my
books at my website,
http://www.SaraRosett.com
,
or you can sign up for my
newsletter
.
I hope you’ll connect with me on
Facebook
,
Twitter
,
Pinterest
, or
Goodreads
.
Happy reading!

Read more at
Sara Rosett’s site
.