Enemies and Playmates (42 page)

Jesse clicked the phone off and drove the three blocks. He parked in front of a tan colonial. No lights shone through the dark windows. He slid his gun from the console, checked the safety. And waited.

Less than a minute passed before James Barnes stepped out onto his front porch. He squinted through the darkness. Jesse lowered his window and waved him over. “Get in.”

Barnes stared at the gun a moment, then walked around to the passenger side and slid in. He wore gray jogging pants and brown slippers. A baggy Harvard sweatshirt. His hair needed to be combed.

Barnes’ lips jammed together. His eyes registered surprise, though he had the nerve to sound petulant when he spoke. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Call them both off. Now.”

“Ryder, you have nothing. Your entire case is in the toilet. So do us all a favor and go back to whatever hole you were in before this all started.”

Jesse smirked. “You all must think I’m a real idiot. You think I turned the only copies I had over to Eldridge? You even think he had it all to begin with? No, Barnes, it’s far from over. I just have to make one call and the FBI will be all over your asses. Maybe you and Covington could be roomies over at Walpole.”

Barnes blinked several times. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He said, “If that’s the case, then why haven’t you already done it?”

“Always hold your best card for last,” Jesse said. “But, make no mistakes, I have a few copies, every single piece of evidence, all stored safely away. And anything happens to me, it’s in the FBI’s lap and it’s front page news.”

“For now, just keep your guys away from me. Anyone tails me, comes after me, or rips apart my apartment searching for what they’ll never find, and I’ll turn you over to the feds faster than you can imagine.”

“It’s not entirely up to me,” Barnes said.

“You handle your end. I’ll handle Covington.”

Barnes nodded again, said nothing. Jesse ran his hand along the barrel of his gun. “One other thing,” he said. “Fuck me over and I’ll blow your head off.”

Barnes turned away. “Are we finished here?”

“For now.”

Captain James Barnes climbed out of the car. He looked about to slam the door, but instead closed it quietly. He walked up his driveway, his head bent down. A scared and lonely man in a worn jogging suit. Jesse smiled, flipped on his headlights, and headed home.

32

Two blissfully uneventful days passed. Jesse spent the majority of his time at the hospital with Lauren, watching and listening as she and Raymond worked on their article. Despite her fatigue and emotional overload, Lauren insisted on putting in several hours each day.

Raymond left early on that second evening with everything he’d need to complete the article. He intended to work through the night in order to have it ready for print the next day. Lauren was surprisingly relaxed and content. Tomorrow’s paper would expose all those secrets she’d been forced to keep throughout her life. Knowing that seemed to bring her peace.

Jesse left a short time later. Exhaustion had finally gotten the better of him. He fell into bed and immediately began to drift off. Just as the dream world began to take hold, his phone jarred him awake and he teetered back to reality. He was still somewhere between the two worlds when he mumbled a hello.

“Jesse, it’s Marc. I need help. I don’t know what to do. They’re claiming they have proof of all this stuff that’s not true. I didn’t do any of this.”

Jesse recited his address, then disconnected. He groaned as he slid out from beneath the warm covers. He picked his clothes up off the floor and pulled them back on. Then he went to the kitchen in search of caffeine. The best he could do was a bottle of flat Coke. He took it into the living room, turned on the lights, and waited while trying not to conjure up any wild scenarios.

Fifteen minutes later, Marc was at his door. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. He looked as if he was strung out. But this was shock, not drugs. Jesse led him into the living room. “Okay,” he said. “Start at the beginning.”

“I left the hospital right after dinner this evening,” Marc said. “The medication is making Kara queasy and I thought she’d rest better if I wasn’t there. She tries so hard to keep a brave front. She doesn’t want me to worry, as ridiculous as that is. But that has no bearing on any of this. I’m rambling.”

Marc slumped back in the chair and swiped a hand over his face. “The police were waiting outside my building when I arrived home. They had actually questioned my neighbors!”

“I’m sorry. This is just so unbelievable. The police claim I’d been having an ongoing affair with some woman by the name of Alison Robbins during the time I was also seeing Kara. When Kara decided to leave Covington and move in with me, they claim I ended my affair with this Alison person. She supposedly went into a jealous rage and hired someone to kill both Kara and myself, only Lauren was there instead of me.”

Jesse silently cursed himself. He hadn’t seen this coming. He should have. Stupid. This whole ordeal had become a miserable game of human chess.

“I swear,” Marc said, “I don’t even know this woman. I don’t know where the police came up with this. I wasn’t seeing anyone else. No one.”

“Yes,” Marc said. “Then they asked for a DNA sample as well. I got really scared. I told them I wanted a lawyer. They finally let me go but they said they’d be back for me.”

“You need to listen to me carefully,” Jesse said. “Go home and search your house thoroughly. Look through all your knives. If she was cut up, then also check any saws you may have. If anything’s missing or looks out of place in any way, call me right away.”

“Don’t panic,” Jesse said. “Just do what I said. And quick. The cops will be getting a search warrant. I’m surprised they didn’t have one before they released you.”

“Jesse, if Kara finds out… I mean, I didn’t know that woman. But what if Kara doesn’t believe me? What if she believes it was my fault this happened to her and Lauren?”

“Kara knows Covington’s capabilities,” Jesse said. “She’ll believe you. But, for now, don’t say anything to her. I doubt the cops will question her. She’s still in ICU. They won’t want to tarnish their image by going after her just yet. Besides, they don’t really want the truth anyway. Covington will see to that.”

Immediately after Marc left, Jesse grabbed his phone and punched in Barnes’ number. Barnes answered right away, wide awake this time. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jesse said.

Jesse disconnected the call. He yanked his wallet from his pants and searched through a stack of business cards. He found the one he was looking for, a basic white card with bold black print. He’d had it since the week before he graduated from the police academy.

The card belonged to Robert Taylor of the FBI. Rob had told him to call anytime, wanted to give him a job. But Jesse hadn’t been interested. Still wasn’t. Not in the job anyway.

***

Alex had been pacing the length of his den for the past fifteen minutes. Wilkes should have been released long ago. He would have called Ryder for help by now. That was the logical step for the man to take. Ryder would be irate and no doubt would react accordingly. That was his nature. So what was taking so long?

He left his den and walked out to the living room. The house was silent. A chill clung to the air. He stood looking at the stairway, as if he expected someone to come down at any moment.

Finally he turned away. His eyes fell to the stack of CDs that sat on top of the unused stereo. Once that stereo had been a source of aggravation. All that angry music. Stephen had been too weak to vent that anger. Much too weak. And so he’d sought release in music. His only son had been a failure.

Sadly, Lauren had all the qualities he’d hoped for in a son. She had the strength Stephen had lacked. Alex had no doubt that he could have molded her at a young age, shown her the power available to her, given her a taste of his world and prepared her to work beside him.