No Turning Back (20 page)

I had to try twice to get a key in the lock and I took a deep breath to calm down. Finally, the knob turned and I eased the door open as I stepped into Mark's kitchen.

It was eerily quiet. I stood still for a moment, just listening, and heard nothing to make me think I wasn't alone. I'd left my purse in my car so I tucked the keys in my pocket and started walking through his house.

It was your typical bachelor's place, functional without being particularly homey. I kept repeating what he'd said – think like a smuggler, but was still drawing a blank. It didn't help that I didn't even know what I was looking for.

I couldn't see Mark hiding anything in the kitchen so I moved on through the house. Going upstairs, I saw that his bedroom was also nothing spectacular. A bed, dresser and lamp were all it contained. Opening his closet, I moved aside his clothes, searching for any cabinets hidden in the walls, but found nothing. I crouched on the floor and peered under the bed and even lifted up the mattress. Nothing. I searched through his drawers, knocking on the backs of them like I'd seen people do in the movies, but they all sounded pretty solid to me.

After about an hour, I decided nothing was hidden in his bedroom. Following the hallway, I came to another room where apparently Mark had expended all his decorative energies.

The room was filled with science fiction paraphernalia. I watched as much television as the next person but I didn't know what some of the stuff was. Complete sets of action figures sat in various scenes and poses throughout the room on shelves. Computer equipment also filled the room, piled in the corners along with books on programming. Spaceships were hung from the ceiling with transparent wire, simulating various flight patterns, and I had to duck to avoid them. I didn't know where to begin searching in here, but I had a gut feeling that this was the room he'd meant by his clue.

Glancing at my watch, I knew I didn't have a lot of time. I had to be at The Drop by six and still had to get back to my apartment and dressed. Steeling myself against my inherent tidy nature I delved in, pulling apart stacks of computer equipment and flipping through books to see if he'd hollowed anything out like that guy in
Shawshank Redemption
. I took shelves off the walls, the tiny figures so carefully placed on them falling heedlessly to the floor.

After another hour, I wanted to scream in frustration. It seemed hopeless and I thought Mark had greatly overestimated my ability to solve his puzzle. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by the mayhem I'd created, I heaved a sigh of defeat. Apparently, I wasn't able to think like a smuggler. Getting to my feet, I inadvertently cracked my head on one of the overhanging spaceships and I cursed. It was a big ship. Reaching up in frustration, I grabbed it with both hands and yanked it down from the ceiling. I was about to hurl it across the room in a fit of temper when I paused and looked at what I was holding.

I'm not a huge sci-fi fan but even I knew
Star Wars
backwards and forwards. I was holding a replica of the
Millennium Falcon
. I gasped. Of course! Han Solo had been a smuggler! And where had he smuggled things? Inside his ship!

I just knew I was right. I eagerly inspected the ship, looking for a way to open it, but it had been glued tightly shut. Grabbing something heavy, metallic and unrecognizable to me from one of the piles on the floor, I hammered at the plastic until I felt it give way. Pulling it apart, I was able to see inside the replica ship.

Taped to the inside was a small, rectangular object, a little smaller than the size of my palm and only about a quarter inch thick. I pulled it out to take a good look at it. It was another piece of computer equipment, and if I had to guess, maybe a hard drive.

Shoving it into my pocket, I stepped into the hallway and froze. I could hear voices coming from downstairs. Men's voices. I looked around, but there was no way out. On my left was the bathroom, and without thinking, I ran inside, pushing the door nearly shut behind me. Moving as fast and as quietly as I could, I climbed behind the shower curtain into the shower, thankful that Mark had a darkly opaque curtain and not glass doors. I tried to be as still and breathe as quietly as humanly possible.

I could hear the men's voices getting louder, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. The door to the bathroom suddenly flew open, bouncing against the wall, and I nearly screamed. The voices were clear now as they stood in the hallway.

"...know what we're doing here. We've already searched this place." The man sounded angry and affronted.

"You obviously didn't search it good enough." The second voice sounded vaguely familiar to me but I couldn't place it.

"Gimme a break, Jimmy. Just because you tore that girl's apartment apart like a hurricane went through doesn't mean we're any closer to finding it. You think it's here? Then you find it."

"Frank sent me to watch and make sure you're thorough. Not to do your work for you."

I did know that voice and if I had been scared before, now I was terrified. It was Jimmy Quicksilver. I remembered how coldly inhuman and deadly he had been on the two occasions I'd had the misfortune of meeting him. Without consciously making the decision to do so, I drew back further, pressing myself against the shower wall, hardly daring to breathe. I didn't want to consider what would happen to me if they found me.

"Make yourself useful before I decide you're worth more to us dead than alive," Jimmy replied, with a condescending sneer in his voice. To my relief, they moved further down the hall and I sucked in a lungful of air. My heart was pounding like it would leap out of my chest and I felt light-headed. I recognized the classic signs of fight-or-flight and I tried to slow my breathing.

"What the fuck happened here?!" They must have gotten to the office and seen the mess my searching had caused. I closed my eyes and prayed, hoping they'd think whoever had done it was already gone.

"Looks like someone else was better than you," said Jimmy coldly. I heard a hard thump against the wall and a grunt, then nothing. I strained to listen.

I heard footsteps pass the bathroom door on their way downstairs. After a while, I heard the front door open and close.

Even though they were supposedly gone, I didn't move. It could be a trap with them waiting for someone to come out of the house. I looked at my watch and waited. Thirty minutes should be good.

After about fifteen, I smelled something funny. Sniffing the air, I realized what it was. Smoke. Tearing through the shower curtain, I ran to the hallway and stopped short, a small shriek escaping my lips before I clamped them shut.

A man was laying face-up on the floor. Although his eyes were open, he was very obviously dead. His throat had been slit from ear to ear so deeply it was a wonder that his head was still attached to his neck. Blood pooled in a dark red puddle beneath him. Bile rose in my throat but I swallowed it down. I didn't have time to be sick.

Smoke billowed up the stairs and I started coughing, my eyes watering. Jimmy must have started a fire. That was what took him so long to leave. Dropping to my knees and carefully avoiding the dead body, I tried to see through my now streaming eyes. I crept down the stairs, hoping to reach the kitchen and back door, but could hear and feel the fire the nearer I got. The heat and smoke became too intense. I had to turn back.

Scrambling back up the stairs, I went down the hall, thinking furiously. There had been windows in both Mark's bedroom and office and I thought there had been a tree in the back yard. That would probably be my best bet.

I got to my feet and ran into the office, shutting the door behind me. Swiping at my eyes to clear them, I stepped over the junk on the floor to the window. Unlatching it, I tried to shove it upward. It didn't budge. I tried again, putting all I had into it, but it still didn't move.

Frantically glancing around the room, I grabbed a piece of equipment that looked heavy enough to do some damage. Taking it in both hands, I smashed it against the glass and saw, with satisfaction, a spidery web appear in the window. Three more times and the glass had given way. I made as big a hole as I could, trying to clear as many shards as possible, then reached through to shove the screen out.

I was right. There was a big oak tree that grew beside the house, but it wasn't close. I would have to jump to it. I looked down at the ground and gulped. If I missed, I would break a leg, or worse.

I climbed out of the window, wincing as the glass shards cut into my hands and legs, and straddled the frame. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the pain, I leapt for the tree.

My fingers just managed to grab a branch, though the weight of my body made the muscles in my arms scream with pain and I nearly slipped. Wrapping my legs around the branch, I shimmied closer to the trunk. Twigs caught at my hair and hurriedly I yanked myself free. I had climbed trees since I was very young so I was down the tree in no time flat. The sound of an explosion and glass shattering came from the house and I saw flames leaping out of another window. Without a backward glance, I ran for my car.

I raced home and made a beeline for the shower. I reeked of smoke and my hands were bloody from myriad tiny cuts. The beautiful sweater and slacks were beyond repair and I grimly tossed them aside. Blowing my hair dry, I set my jaw and put it in pigtail braids, complete with fluffy white bands just like Britney's. As I got ready, I thought about the conversation between Jimmy and the dead man and my hand stilled as I was braiding. "The girl's apartment," he'd said. Well, I guess now I knew who had trashed my apartment looking for Mark's backpack.

I put band-aids on my hands and taped a couple larger bandages to a few deeper cuts on the inside of my thighs where I'd straddled the broken window frame. Ruefully, I realized I'd have to wear latex gloves tonight while making drinks. I couldn't risk bleeding into someone's glass.

Inspecting my face in the mirror, I saw that I had a livid bruise on my cheekbone that was slowly seeping underneath my eye. By tomorrow, I'd look even worse. Fantastic. Tonight I figured I could hide it with a thick layer of makeup. The low lighting at the bar would help.

Dumping out the paper bag Tish had given me, I chewed my lip uncertainly. A black sports bra, white shirt, gray cardigan and schoolgirl miniskirt complete with knee socks lay on my bed. It wasn't terribly skimpy, but would definitely show more skin than I felt comfortable revealing.

Glancing at the clock, I realized I didn't have time to be picky. I threw on the costume, knotting the shirt between my breasts and rolling up the sleeves. I didn't need a picture – I knew exactly how Britney had worn this costume, though I didn't have the heart to look in the mirror to see how I compared. I had a larger chest than Britney had and the amount of my cleavage on display was considerable, but had no time to do anything about it. Putting a tiny pair of silver hoop earrings in my ears, I grabbed the hard drive I'd retrieved from Mark's house and hurried out. Scant seconds later, I was pounding on CJ's door.

It took a few bouts of persistent knocking before I finally heard the locks turning, then CJ opened the door. Her mouth fell open when she saw me.

"You have got to be kidding me," she said flatly, eyeing my costume, but I waved my hand to interrupt her. She didn't seem the type to appreciate Britney Spears anyway.

"It's for work," I explained. "Listen, I need your help."

"I'm listening," she said carefully. I handed her the drive.

"A friend of mine...gave...me this," I said. "Can you figure out what's on it?" CJ turned it in her hands, looking it over.

"Sure," she said, shrugging. "No problem." I felt a niggle of guilt. I couldn't help it, I had to warn her.

"Listen," I said, "whatever's on here, I think it might be dangerous. Two people may have been killed because of it." CJ looked at me like I was nuts. "I'm serious," I said earnestly. "I just...want you to be fully informed before you say you'll look at it."

She examined me for a moment, a frown creasing between her brows.

"I can tell you're serious," she finally said. "It's just a little hard to believe, that's all." Pocketing the drive, she pulled out a cigar and lit it, still examining me as if deciding whether or not to believe me.

"Please be careful," I said, "and don't tell anyone. I'll stop by when I get home tonight." CJ took a puff of the cigar and nodded.

"All right," she agreed. "See you then." With a quick smile, I jogged to my car.

I arrived at The Drop only a few minutes late, parked around back, and hurried inside. The place was already busy and Scott was glad to see me. I did a double-take when I saw him. He'd dressed as a Navy officer in dress whites, complete with mirrored shades. I was briefly reminded of one of my favorite movies of all time,
Top Gun
. Yum.

"About time you showed up," he snapped when he saw me. I felt a little satisfaction when he did his own double-take. He let out a low whistle as he looked me up and down. "Holy shit, Kathleen," he said. "You look good enough to eat." The smile he gave me made me blush and I quickly turned away to shove my purse in a cubbyhole under the bar. Well, at least I knew I looked good, even if I did feel like I was about to fall out of my top.

"Kathleen!" I turned and saw Tish standing there. She was wearing a Madonna outfit, complete with cone bra.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, laughing. "Where did you get that? You look fantastic!" She was wearing a platinum blonde wig done in a Marilyn Monroe style and had on platform heels with fishnet stockings. Tish preened for me.

"Thank you," she said, winking at me. "Just something I had stashed away in the closet." She grinned. "And you look perfect, Kathleen! That outfit suits you. We'll be pulling in the bucks tonight!" I hoped she was right. I caught glimpses of Jill and Deirdre out of the corner of my eye as I hurried to get my station set up. They both looked amazing. Jill was beautifully, and scantily, dressed as Christina and Deirdre looked exotic with her skintight Beyoncé outfit. Romeo would be pleased, I was sure.