The Ringer (17 page)

“You’re lucky.” He reached into his jacket and turned his back on the brat since he didn’t care to witness the elation on his face. “Blanchard,” he barked.

“We ran into a bit of a problem and got banged up in the process.”

“Did you take care of it?” He didn’t care how close to death Mortiz and Franco had come; he just wanted Thornbird out of the way, now more than ever.

“Not yet.”

“Call me when you do.” Tired of the incompetence, he began to hang up but his detective kept talking.

“They called in the murder, Captain.” Franco’s grizzled voice came over the line.

“Did you get a trace?”

“Burner phone placed around the Nebraska-Iowa border, but that’s all we got.”

“Sounds like he’s headed to the Szohre home.” He gave his order to kill them all.

“All parties involved?” Franco asked.

“Consider this a fire sale—everyone must go.” Julian didn’t care if the missing kid’s bitchy mother ever saw the light of day. She’d spent weeks on the news, stirring up trouble. It was only a matter of time before Thornbird got a whiff of her sob story. A nice shiny bullet in the head would serve her right. “Every single one of them.”

He hung up the phone and wondered what he should do with Franco and Mortiz once they finally finished with Thornbird. Those two thugs stuck out like a sore thumb, but they were loyal to a fault. He considered his options to keep them around or just get rid of them entirely.

He headed for the garage. Julian didn’t bother to check to see if the kid followed him. Either the boy wanted a ride home, or he wanted to walk.

Fall was back. Colorado’s heavy snow nearly made Jax forget autumn still existed everywhere else in America. He drove to Altoona, a small town past Des Moines, to meet with Matthew Szohre’s mother, Nancy.

In an almost knee-jerk reaction, he reached over and laid his hand on top of Lane’s. Quiet, she had said very little all morning. The tense and frightened look hadn’t left her eyes since last night, and he couldn’t help but be worried. He pulled the truck into guest parking of the youth shelter where Matthew Szohre’s mother worked.

“Are you okay?” he asked, helpless in his ability to console her. Their run from the law had taken a toll on Lane, and he felt responsible.

“Getting there.” She tucked a slip of hair from her ponytail behind her ear. Caught up by her innocence, he admired the fresh face looking back at him.

He took solace in her honesty and moved in to kiss her. Strawberry gloss lingered on the tip of his tongue from the taste of her mouth. He pulled away from her pouty lips reluctantly and asked, “Got your gun?”

He rested his forehead to hers. He wished they had come together under better circumstances.

“Uh huh,” she said.

Tired all the way down to his bones but eager for answers, he gave her one last kiss before they got out of the truck. “Mrs. Szohre wanted to meet us after lunchtime.”

“What is this place?” she asked.

They headed toward the plain brick building. Since there were no decorations outside for Halloween or a playground, he couldn’t say for sure if it was a school or not.

“Jackson Thornbird.” A woman waited for them at the front door. She had wild, brown hair with a stern expression that appeared permanently etched on her face. A modern day nun. Deep sadness was his next impression of her. Shivers ran up his spine at the memories she conjured from his childhood, hard rulers and even harder glares. He’d never gotten out of line to see if they would test the thickness of the wood across his knuckles.

“Principal Szohre.” He shook the woman’s hand. Dressed in all black, her curly hair framed her face. It helped her to preserve a youthful look.

“Please, call me Nancy.” She took Lane’s hand before leading them into the building.

They passed by several small rooms that were decorated with different teaching aids for kids.

“We have quite a number of autistic children whose parents can’t afford to help them,” she began to explain without being prompted. “And the rest of our student body is at-risk youth.”

“Wow, all under the same roof?” she asked. “Must be difficult.”

“At first, but with the right training, the troubled youth are very helpful with the special needs children.”

“Where are the kids?” he asked. The place was curiously silent.

“Free period. They’re either painting or making music. We allow the time after lunch to get in touch with themselves in a constructive manner.”

“Tell me if I’m out of line, but who funds your school?”

“No, Mr. Thornbird, I don’t mind. Private donors contribute. We also use government funding to keep us afloat.”

Nancy guided them down a hallway. When they entered the principal’s lair, déjà vu washed over him. It was a ubiquitous room that always managed to loom at the end of every school hallway. He did not relish the times he’d spent with the staff in the principal’s office.

“This is impressive,” he complimented her.

The beginnings of a smile graced Nancy’s face, but soon fell away before it could be fully actualized. “We’ve put in a lot of hard work. Please.” She flicked her hand toward two seats.

Children’s paintings covered most of the wall, the rest taken over by books on education and therapy. Nancy took her seat across from them in her office.

“I’m sorry. Out of sorts today.” Nancy shuffled through the papers on her desk. “You’re here about the winter fundraiser?”

“No,” he said, tired of being the bearer of bad news. “I’m here about your son. I’m a homicide detective for the Chicago P.D.”

“Oh!” Hostile, red blotches appeared and ate away at the woman’s olive-colored skin before her face set in a serious frown.

“I’m on your side,” he assured her. “Recently, I’ve been suspended for looking into cases similar to your son’s. Regardless of my state of employment, I want to find out what happened to Matt.”

A war played in her eyes, whether to trust him or not. He began to doubt himself, wondering if he had laid all of his cards out too soon.

As if bracing herself for some kind of blow, Nancy sat back in her seat,. “Did you find something?”

Most family members hoped shielding themselves from the pain would help lessen it somehow. In his experience, bad news hurt no matter how one got it.

“Do you recognize this woman?” He pulled up a picture of Parker’s missing employee on his phone and handed it to Nancy.

“Yes, it’s Tara Penske.” She squinted at the screen. “Did something happen to her?”

“Why do you ask?”

“After the city claimed they found Matthew, but nothing matched his medical records, I went to the press,” she admitted while passing his phone back. “Tara came to the hotel, saying she could help me.”

“Did she say how?” he pushed.

“Uh—” Nancy licked her lips. “An acquaintance of hers held irrefutable evidence. Tara’s exact words were, ‘What happened to Matthew is so big, you could own this city.’”

“When was the last time you spoke with Tara?”

“Last September. She promised she would get back to me soon.” Nancy swallowed hard. “But I haven’t spoken with her since.” Her lower lip trembled, her tightly held composure starting to crumble. “He’s dead. I can’t change that.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m not a fool. It’s just all the lies.” Nancy snatched a tissue and dabbed away her tears.

“What do you think happened to your son?” Lane asked softly, reaching across the desk. “You’re his mother, Nancy. What do you think happened?”

“I think—” Nancy stared off into space for a moment before she accepted Lane’s kind gesture and grabbed her hand. “—someone took his kidney, and if I weren’t so rabid with anger, I would have demanded to look at his body. Now….”

Grief blanketed the room and sucked the air out of it. Jax felt like a shit. This woman had already been through too much, but he sat, quietly waiting for the paralyzing emotion to loosen its grip on her.

“Urban legends,” she sniffed. “This is stuff my kids sit around and tell each other.” She pointed beyond them to the outer walls of her office before she let out a ragged sigh. “According to Tara, this was an organized operation that could cost a lot of big wigs their jobs.”

Somewhere in the facility, a school bell rang, cutting their talk short. Nancy stood up. Jax looked at the clock on the wall as they joined her.. “Tara, she’s dead, isn’t she?”

“I believe so,” he told her. Already in way over his head and close to drowning, he found no good reason to start lying now.

“Is it because of me?” Nancy asked. Fresh tears threatened to spill down her face.

“Not unless you killed her,” he said with finality on the subject, hoping to assuage any guilt she had about Tara Penske.

“What now?” She led them back down the hallway toward the entrance.

Kids piled into the main room, younger children guided by older ones. Some of them made eye contact, but most avoided even a glance in their general direction.

“If you can go to a relative’s house or take a vacation, it would be for the best,” he warned her. Nancy appeared to be strong with a good head on her shoulders. He didn’t want to see another person hurt because of him.

She opened the door, allowing the outside world in as the sun dipped low. Night came faster than usual. Much darker than it was a half an hour ago, he wondered how long the calm weather would last.

Nancy stared off into the distance. “Is this where we’re at?” Her voice sounded far away.

“We’ll do our best to keep in contact.”

“I’d appreciate it,” she said.

Matt’s mother stared straight through him in an unnerving way. A chill ran through Jax by the dissection of her gaze. Hopefully, he could keep his promise and tell her what she needed to hear—that everyone responsible for her son’s death would be held accountable.

***

Fairies with wings danced in front of Lane. She giggled at the little girl who had a flock of ghouls and assorted superheroes next to her.

“I love Halloween. It’s one of my favorite holidays.” She sighed wistfully while they stepped onto the sidewalk. Children happily went by the Bed and Breakfast they planned to stay in for the next week.

“Not Christmas?” Jax asked.

“Maybe if I had a family.” She shrugged. “But no. Halloween takes the cake.”

More kids dashed by them as they made their way up the stairs to the yellow Victorian house. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her.

“Halloween is a nightmare for the beat cops, and don’t even get me started on New Year’s.” He pushed the doorbell and turned his face into her hair while they waited. An attack of teenage giddiness got a hold of her.

“Did you just sniff me, Jackson Thornbird?”

“You smell good.” He pulled her even closer.

“Hi,” said a sunny blonde with a bowl of candy. “You two aren’t trick-or-treaters or are you?”

“No, we’re newlyweds,” she said sugary sweet. “We heard about your B&B. We just couldn’t resist stopping by and checking it out.” Lane believed it was the perfect cover to give them the privacy they needed to work on a plan.

“Oh, customers!” the woman said. “Maw Maw will be so happy. We don’t usually get very many this time of year.” She shoved the screen door wide and held it open for them to enter. “Welcome. I’m Shelly. How long did you plan on staying?”

Lane glanced at Jax for confirmation. He mouthed something she couldn’t understand. Confused, she waved him off and decided to wing it. “A week.”

“Great. Next week is the fall fair, and we’ll be booked up. I’m sure you two want your privacy.” She opened her mouth to respond, but Shelly fired off another question before she could answer the last one. “When did you two get married?”

“Last weekend. Got one in the oven,” she quickly belted as she rubbed her belly.

“What the hell?” Jax whispered from beside her, but she ignored him since she had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Congratulations,” Shelly squealed. She led them through the cozy house made up with different types of oak and an overabundance of lace.

Dainty touches of fall were here and there. A bowl of potpourri decorated a beautiful, mirrored vanity while a pumpkin sat on top of the check-in desk. The dark and light colors worked wonders with the simplicity of the house. If she hadn’t been on the run from two crazed cops, she would have been more than thrilled to stay there.

“Don’t worry about the sign in,” the innkeeper told them. “You guys are it for the week. Besides, Maw Maw just baked some desserts for her poker game and we need testers.”

Led more by her nose and less by the perky blonde, Lane trailed the woman around the corner. They followed her into an airy kitchen where a ton of pastries greeted them.

“Maw Maw, we have newlyweds,” Shelly announced.

Lane’s insides rumbled. She fought the urge to grab Shelly’s grandma into a tight and crushing embrace. The tiny woman was damn cuter than print-dress-wearing, beehive-flaunting Aunt Bee from
The Andy Griffith Show
. She had always wanted an Aunt Bee but never got the privilege of having one.

“Well, isn’t that wonderful,” Maw Maw said. She cleaned off her hands and offered a goody. Delighted, Lane grabbed her into a deep hug, never wanting to let go. “Please, help yourself.”

The kitchen table held a spread of two fresh-baked pies, a dozen cookies, and a pan of brownies. Puzzled by how big Maw Maw’s poker game could possibly be, the rumbling in her stomach helped her to abandon any thoughts of contemplation.

For the past few days, her appetite had been nil. The shock of her sham marriage, along with another dead body, sent her nerves into overdrive. But the delicious display laid out in front of them forced her to accept the brownie Maw Maw passed over to her.

She pulled the square apart to see the moistness inside as Jax picked up a cookie and sniffed it. Satisfied, she raised the chocolate treat to her mouth, but he stopped her before she could eat it. “Uh, sweetheart, maybe we shouldn’t. We had so much cake.”

“Are you shi—?”

“And you said you didn’t want to gain too much weight.” He put his hand on her stomach and made sweet puppy dog eyes at her, which didn’t lessen the urge to slap him. “For the baby.”