The Devil She Knew (21 page)

Clay left for work and she endured a restless night on the sofa. Her hands cupped a mug of hot coffee as she leaned on the kitchen counter the next morning when he returned, carrying a bag of fresh pastries.

“You look like hell. Did you sleep?”

“Not really.” She couldn’t count the number of times she’d tiptoed to the sliding glass door and peered into the darkness searching for that man in the parking lot.

“You should try to rest today. We’re getting on the road early tomorrow, like about five
A.M.
You’ll need to be up and ready by then.” He tossed a second bag on the counter. “For you.” He walked away.

Inside was a shoulder-length blond wig with full bangs. With the hairpiece still in her hand, she walked to Clay’s bedroom door to find him packing a valise on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you we leave tomorrow.”

“You’re going with me?”

He stopped and looked at her incredulously. “Who did you think you would go with?”

“I thought … ” She didn’t finish the sentence, instead lifting the wig slightly and whispering, “Thank you.”

• • •

He was being hard on Cassidy, but keeping her scared might keep her on her toes. And he remained angry at her for leaving the way she did, for not trusting him. He had to admit, though, he admired her strength. Had she really planned to travel all the way back to Arizona by herself, walk into that police station and say here I am, not knowing if there was anyone in the building she could trust? That took balls.

Zipping the valise, he smiled in anticipation of the one-on-one time ahead of them. She may not be interested in him romantically, which still hurt, but she’d be a lively travel companion.

Strolling into the living room, he found her curled into the corner of the couch.

“What are you watching?”

She shrugged and muted the volume. “Nothing much. I don’t know how people watch TV all day. I’m about to go out of my mind.”

He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. He could probably ease up a little.

“You’ve been cooped up in this apartment for two days. Want to get out of here?”

She swung her feet to the floor, her eyes wide. “Really? Yes, please. I’ll get my shoes.”

He eyed her small, tight bottom as she walked into the spare bedroom where her duffel bag sat, silently berating himself for banishing her from his bed. Just because he was angry with her didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate an attractive woman. And he remembered quite clearly what was tucked into those jeans — soft, firm cheeks that fit nicely in his hands. He adjusted his pants as she returned, grunting uncomfortably. Not all of his parts were mad at her.

She stared at him expectantly, like a child waiting for permission to go outside. “Where is the wig?”

A momentary look of surprise flashed across her features before she returned to the spare bedroom. Minutes later she stood in front of him again. “Glasses?”

“I don’t really need them.”

“I surmised that myself. But they are a good add to the disguise.”

Dutifully, she retrieved the glasses from the bedroom. He inspected the transformation, ignoring the twinge of titillation. Long blond hair with bangs that barely edged over the red frames. “Do you wear lipstick?”

“Not often.”

“Some nice red stuff would work. Let’s go see if Maggie has any.” He opened the door then walked beside her out of the building and across the common area. Cassidy inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of autumn. She kicked the leaves along the walkway like a five-year-old, making him laugh.

• • •

Maggie swung open the apartment door and did a double take, then smiled and took Cassidy in her arms. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve been worried about you. Let me look at you,” she said, nodding approvingly. “This looks good.”

Cassidy welcomed Maggie’s proffered warmth. As if in silent communication, neither said anything to hint at their earlier meeting. “It’s good to see you, too. Thanks.”

Clay scooped up Jack from his blanket and said over his shoulder, “She could use some bright red lipstick, Mags. And anything else you think will add to her new look.”

Cassidy noted the monotone in his voice, no different than if he were referring to a stranger.

“It’s called lip gloss these days, caveman. Follow me, Cass.”

Moments later, after the women emerged from the bathroom, Clay cleared his throat. “I’m not a big fan of blonds but, ah, you look pretty good.” He ducked his head, but not fast enough to hide the blush on his cheeks, and turned away, cooing to the baby.

Cassidy’s heart leapt. Maybe, just maybe, she could regain his trust, and then his friendship. She wanted to count these two people as friends. Maggie winked at her and moved into the kitchen, returning with three glasses of iced tea.

“What time are you leaving?”

“Early.”

“You’ll check in at the station so I’ll know from Dan that you both are okay, right?”

“You’ll be asking your husband to violate department protocol, but yes, we’ll check in.”

She focused on Cassidy. “And you’ll do everything Clay tells you to do, right? Because if you don’t, and something happens to him, I’ll never forgive you.”

Cassidy nodded. She would protect him to the death.

Tony DelMorrie wiped his sweaty forehead with a napkin. He’d fucked up when he ignored the underworld code of behavior. So here he sat, picking red velvet cake that had been as dry as popcorn out of his teeth and waiting for the boss, Johnny Tanzini. At least they were equals on the pie chart of power.

The Drip Stick was Tanzini’s base, a coffee shop cover for his illegitimate businesses. He’d think Tanzini would be smart enough to sink some money into the joint and make it look like something. It was a hole. But most of the tables were full, so it must be popular.

All heads turned when Tanzini entered the room. Some nodded in deference. Christ, the man had a giant barrel chest and shoulders that reached to his face. The guy had no neck, he was just one bulging muscle. He must live in the gym. Who the hell had time for that?

“How you doin’?” Tony mumbled. He rose and extended his hand.

“Good. You?”

“Good.” The chair groaned beneath Tanzini’s bulk when he sat. He could probably splinter it between his thighs. “Talk to me, Tony. What are you doin’ on my turf?”

He’d expect respect on his home turf and he had to show it to Tanzini. Mindful that they were in a public place and one never knew when the Feds were listening, Tony chose his words carefully.

“I had this problem in Arizona that I tried to take care of, but it didn’t happen. I followed the problem here, thinking I could take care of it without bothering you.”

Tanzini’s expression hadn’t changed. He simply stared, waiting for more. “I meant no disrespect to you or your family by coming here without lettin’ you know,” Tony said. He felt sweat beads dotting his forehead again.

“I still have to take care of the matter at hand, but I can handle it. You don’t need to concern yourself.”

Tanzini removed a toothpick from an engraved holder and leaned back, lifting the front legs of the chair off the floor. “Let’s talk about this.”

• • •

The meeting had not gone well. Tony strolled out of the coffee shop, his demeanor belying his anger. Tanzini didn’t like a stranger shootin’ up his territory and wasn’t convinced Tony could settle matters successfully. He gave Tony twenty-four hours to find Cassidy Hoake or he would step in. Either way, she’d be taken care of, but now the DelMorrie family pride was on the line. How would it look back home if word got around that he’d come to Ohio and botched a hit, or worse that Tanzini, a rival family, had cleaned up his mess? How was he supposed to wrap it up when he didn’t know where the fuck she was? Shit. He was screwed.

At least Tanzini, out of respect for his position as a boss and an equal, had offered protection and one of his soldiers to assist in locating Cassidy, since Tony was unfamiliar with the city. It galled him to accept the handout, but if it helped find her, it was worth it. He’d owe Tanzini big-time though. Damn.

• • •

She just finished tucking her hair beneath the wig when Clay poked his head in the spare room. “I swear you sleep in your clothes. Here, don’t forget this,” he said, extending the drugstore cell phone she’d left at his kitchen sink. “Are you ready? We’ll grab some coffee on the road.”

He handed her his cargo jacket, the one she’d borrowed when she escaped to the bus station. “I believe this is your coat of choice.”

Wincing, she slipped her arms into the sleeves while following him outside into the darkness. An uneasy sensation crept over her in the eerie silence, like a spider crawling up her back. Clay walked to an unfamiliar car, loaded her duffel and his bag into the trunk, and then touched the key fob to open the automatic locks, motioning for her to get in. He tucked a smaller briefcase behind the driver’s seat.

“Whose car is this?” she asked, buckling her seatbelt.

“It’s a rental.”

“Where are we going?”

He turned the key and looked at her. “You don’t get carsick, do you?”

“No, why?”

“We’ll be driving for a while.”

“Clay, I’m nervous enough without added drama. Please tell me where we are going.”

“We’re headed to the airport.”

She considered his words, wondering what the exact plan was. “Are we leaving the car at the airport?”

“Yes.”

“What time is our flight?”

Clay eased the car out onto the deserted street. “We don’t have a flight yet.”

Her head jerked up. She could barely make out his features in the lights from the dash panel. “We’re going to the airport, but we don’t have a flight to board? Please explain your plan to me.”

“You might as well get comfortable. We’ve got about a six- or seven-hour drive ahead of us, depending on how many times you need to stop. I didn’t trust making travel arrangements from the police station. Too many unknowns. We’re driving to the Indianapolis airport. We’ll book a flight there.”

“You don’t trust the people you work with?”

Clay shrugged but remained silent.

“I thought you made arrangements with the Arizona detective. You said you felt comfortable about him, that he was on my side.”

Clay’s smile glowed in the dash lights. “I do think he’s on your side and I think we can trust him. That doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything, especially our travel plans. He thinks we’ll be there this weekend. I’m not taking any chances.”

The gravity of his words smothered her like a cape. It was just her and Clay on this mission to bring justice for the murders of Jill and Amber. Together, they might live or die. The feeling was crushing, almost claustrophobic. She reached for the button to roll down the window and let the cold air beat her face.

Clay adjusted some knobs on the dash. “Are you too warm?”

It took a minute, maybe two, to regain her composure, to be sure if she spoke, she wouldn’t break into a sob and spill her fear all over their laps. The suffocation of it was that tangible, so encompassing, she began to perspire despite the cold air rushing into the car. Finally, she eased the window closed.

“Are you all right?”

She inhaled deeply, trying to stabilize her heart rate. “No Clay, I’m scared beyond belief.”

He glanced at her, and then refocused on the road. “Scared is good, honey. It will keep us both on our toes.” His voice hardened a bit. “It’s too late to change your mind, Cassidy. If you’re thinking about running, forget it. There are other people involved now, people willing to risk their lives to help you.”

She knew that. Him for one, and Maggie and Dan. In a sense, their lives depended as much on her as she did on them. “I’m not changing my mind. I know I messed things up between you and me, but you said if we were ever going to have a life together, I had to make this right. I know that’s not going to happen, but I also realize that if I’m ever going to get my own life back, I’ve got to do this. You don’t have to worry about me running again. I’m just scared.”

Clay leaned over and squeezed her knee. “I read once that a brave man, or in your case a brave woman, is one who dares to look the devil in the face. I think you’re pretty brave to have been through all you have. And I’ve got your back, hon. Why don’t you try to get a little more sleep?”

Silently, she gave thanks that his mood had improved. His touch seared through her jeans, radiating down to her toes and up her thigh. How could she sleep with so much heat beside her?

“I can drive for a couple hours and give you a break,” she suggested.

“Thanks, but that’s not how it works. I’m fine.”

“Can we talk then?”

He hesitated and then smiled. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

In the darkness, with only the inside dials casting their faces in shadows, her guard came down. The emotion that welled up so quickly in her throat surprised her, as did the tears. “I can’t stop thinking about Amber. I should have never given her the key to my apartment. That day you and I went there and all my clothes were dumped on the floor, I knew, I just knew, Tony DelMorrie had been in there. I didn’t tell you then. Maybe if I had, Amber would still be alive.”

She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. “I liked her so much, Clay. She was so down to earth and so in tune with me. We were so different and yet, I think we could have been good friends. She was really smart, you know. She suspected from the get-go that I was hiding something. Did you know that?

“I think there was something fishy going on with her and Mr. Keaseling. She protected all those girls from him, covering for them when they made mistakes and bearing his anger, and most of them were mean to her. It is so unfair that now she’s dead. I feel so guilty, Clay. I should have never let her go to my apartment.”

“You didn’t shoot her, Cassidy. Tony DelMorrie did. You can mourn Amber and you should. You’re right, she was one of a kind and she deserves to be remembered. But you didn’t kill her. You have to keep that in mind.”

“I wish I had been a better friend to her. But I was too scared to get close to her. I will always regret not telling her how I felt.”