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Authors: Melissa F. Miller

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Okay then.


I

m going to go. I want to give my undercover agent the good news. Have a Merry Christmas. Oh, and enjoy your anniversary trip.


Thanks, Charlotte. I hope you take some time to enjoy the holidays, too. You know, before you start nailing hides to walls.

Charlotte had regained her composure and was laughing politely when Sasha hung up.

She pocketed the phone and slipped into the chair that the host was holding out for her. Connelly settled himself across the table and leaned forward expectantly. The moment the host handed them their menus and turned to walk away, Connelly said,

So?


So the grand jury voted to indict Manetto, Riggo, the insurance broker, the fire inspector, and the two guys inside the company for arson, racketeering and conspiracy under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, and various and sundry related offenses.


Nice work,

he said.

She tilted her head and regarded him. He looked like he meant it. And the tension around his eyes seemed to have lessened.


Charlotte did all the work. But she did need a witness, so thank you for being so understanding about what I had to do.

She smiled across the table at him.


I don’
t know that I was all that understanding. But I also know that you

re the world

s smallest bulldozer when you

ve made up your mind, so there wasn

t much I could do other than stand aside so I didn

t get run over.

She pursed her lips at the unflattering comparison to construction equipment but didn

t pursue it. She flipped open the menu.

I think I

m going to try something new,

she said idly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him shaking his head.

Why do you do this? Pick something you enjoy and stick with it.


Spoken like a man who

s ordered the same exact meal for three years. Where

s your sense of adventure?

she teased as she closed the menu.


You

re kidding, right? I

ve been tailing you around town for a day and a half ready to shoot anyone who looked at you two seconds too long. I have all the adventure I can stomach, thank you very much. I don

t need to try a new curry to mix things up.

She changed the subject.

Speaking of mixing things up, I was thinking I might try hang gliding on our vacation or maybe parasailing.


No.


No?


No. You

re going to try sitting still and staring out at the ocean from a chair in the sand, taking long, lazy walks with your husband, and even longer, delicious midday naps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

Lunch was a lingering, languid meal that led into a stop in at a new wine bar just a few doors down from their Thai joint for a glass of mellow red wine. Over their glasses of pinot noir, they decided to do some last minute shopping for Sasha

s parents. An hour and a half later, their arms laden with packages, they ducked into the coffee shop on the corner to end their Shadyside shopping extravaganza with a peppermint mocha for Connelly and double espresso for Sasha.

By the time they made their way back to the condo building, the sun had set and LED Christmas lights were blinking on porches and front windows throughout the neighborhood. Even a few fat, wet snowflakes began to tumble down from the sky.

Sasha turned toward Connelly to remark that she felt like she was on the set of a holiday special when a large man stepped out from the shadows of their building and blocked their path. She gasped and dropped her packages. Connelly took a half-step in front of her and reached inside his jacket.


Where

ve you two lovebirds been?

the man rumbled in a deep baritone.

Connelly’
s hand fell to his side. Sasha leaned forward and squinted at the shape in the dark.


Hank?

they asked in unison.


Yeah, it

s me.

He stepped forward so they could make out his face.


What the devil is wrong with you?

Sasha demanded.

Connelly could have
shot
you.


Or she could have deviated your septum,

Connelly added.

Ask me how I know.

She ignored the crack and stared at Hank

s stony face.

Something

s wrong. Is it one of the kids? What happened?

He tilted his head toward the building.

I

ll tell you inside. I

ve been freezing my buns off out here. Keep that gun handy, Leo.

Connelly shot Sasha a worried look and bent to gather the fallen presents. She took the packages so he

d have his hands free. As they headed around to the front of the building, Sasha said,

Why didn

t you call one of us? How long have you been waiting?

Hank shook his head and blew into his hands to warm them.

Inside.

They hurried through the lobby. Hank didn

t even engage in his usual argument with Sasha about taking the stairs, although he did make Connelly go ahead and check that each landing was clear. Thanks in no small part to Hank

s behavior, by the time they reached the condo, Sasha

s heart was hammering in her chest and her mouth was dry.

Connelly unlocked the front door and shouldered it open, his gun drawn. Hank followed him in and hit the lights. Sasha trailed behind with the bags.


All clear,

Connelly called from the top of the stairs to the loft. He clambered down, followed by a blinking cat and a slow-moving dog. Apparently they

d woken the pets.

Sasha removed her coat and hung it from the stand in the foyer, then held her arms out for Hank

s. He shook his head.


I

m not staying long. And neither are you,

he added pointedly.


Okay, Hank. Enough with the cloak-and-dagger routine,

Connelly said.

Out with it.

Hank shook his head.

Your U.S. attorney friend got her indictment today, I heard.

He was looking at Sasha, so she answered.

Yes, she did.


Well this afternoon a birding group went out looking for a bald eagle

s nest that

s rumored to be located in an abandoned oil refinery down under a bridge off Washington Boulevard. They didn

t find the aerie but they did find Laura Yim

s wallet floating near the riverbank.

Sasha sucked in air, hard, like she

d just taken a punch to the gut. But Hank wasn

t finished.


The ornithology enthusiasts called the East Liberty police station-although apparently, they were on the wrong side of the river and should have called the Sharpsburg PD. While the locals were distracted by their turf war, the Bureau sent in a unit. I tagged along. They found her luggage. And her right hand. A couple toes.


Ah, I don’
t

I have to sit down.

Sasha was about to sink to the floor where she stood, but Connelly grabbed her under her arms and carried her to the sofa. His face was gray. His eyes drilled a silent promise into hers.
We

re going to be okay.
He held her gaze until she nodded and then he turned back to Hank.


Mafia hit?


She didn

t kill herself by sawing herself apart piece by piece, Leo.

Hank grimaced as if he immediately regretted the sarcasm.

Yes, we think it was one of Riggo

s men.


When?

Sasha croaked from the couch.


She

s been dead a couple days

reports aren

t back yet. But the good news for you, to the extent there is any good news, is that she was killed before you testified.


And that

s good how?


Whoever did her may not know about you

yet. They were trying to keep her quiet. And you

ve already talked,

Hank explained gently.


Right,

Sasha agreed.

And getting rid of me won

t make the data disappear. So I don

t think I

m really
in danger.


Were you not listening to me? Someone cut Laura Yim into pieces. Are you willing to bet your life that you

re right? I wouldn

t. And, luckily, you don

t have to. You might have enough time to get out of town before they come looking for you. Maybe,

Hank said grimly.

Sasha felt cold. Chilled to the bone as if she

d spent hours outside in the whipping wind, that kind of cold. She started to shiver violently.


Well, in three days we

ll be in Fiji,

she responded.

Connelly and Hank both shook their heads.


No, babe,

Connelly said.


What?


This isn

t hide-and-seek, Sasha. You don

t get a head start. And you certainly don

t head off to a vacation that you

ve blabbed about to half of Pittsburgh. You don

t have three days. You have three minutes. Pack a bag. Get in your car and start driving. Don

t tell me where you

re headed. Don

t tell
anyone.
Cashion

s got a leak and she has no idea where. The entire Task Force is under review,

Hank said in a firm, insistent tone.

Sasha

s head spun. She

d always thought that just a saying, but nope her head

well, the room, to be exact

was spinning in rapid, dizzying circles.

But, Christmas
—”


There

s no time, Sasha. I

ll take Mocha home with me. I

ll drop your cat off at Naya

s and tell her to let your family and Will know that there

s been an emergency and you and Leo aren

t going to be around for a while.


You can

t just tell my mother I

m missing Christmas because something came up. You

ve met her.


I
can

t, but Naya can. She

ll back your mom down

and fast. Now will you please go throw some clothes in a bag?

Sasha nodded wordlessly and trailed Connelly through the kitchen to the loft. As she started up the stairs, the gaily-colored treat bags filled with Russian tea cakes caught her eye and she pointed at them.

Well take those, too. The kids

ll eat them.

Stupid tears were welling up behind her stupid eyes. Laura Yim had been hacked to pieces, by someone who might be on his way to kill her, too, and she was crying over Christmas cookies and the fact that her vacation had just been canceled.


Hey, it

s okay. We

ll be okay,

Connelly whispered as he grabbed shirts and sweaters seemingly at random and tossed them into a duffle bag. He chucked a box of ammunition on top of the clothes and then headed into the bathroom to gather his toiletries.

She stood for a moment and waited for her emotions to die down, then she sprang into action as well. She swept up an armful of clean laundry and shoved it into a bag. She bypassed her heeled boots and stilettos and chose a pair of Uggs and a pair of running shoes instead. She didn

t know where they were going, but she had a feeling heels weren

t going to be the right choice. She was standing on a chair trying to pull down a basket full of gloves, hats, and scarves from the top shelf of the closet when Connelly reemerged from the bathroom.


Here.

He stretched on his toes and lifted the basket down for her.

I got your bathroom stuff. What else do we need?


I don’
t know,

she said feeling helpless.

Where are we going?


Nowhere we

ve ever been before. That much is for sure. Beyond that, I have no idea.


Well I don

t know what else to take. Food? Water? Cash?


All of the above. How much money do you have on you?


Less than a hundred.

He checked his wallet.

Me, too. We aren

t going to want to use credit cards

too easy to trace.


I can take petty cash from the office if you want to stop by.

Hank loomed in the doorway.

No time.

He shoved a wad of bills into Connelly

s hand.

Will you please get out of here?

BOOK: Irrefutable Evidence
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