The Wrong Side of Dead (16 page)

Jessie gritted her teeth, fighting back nausea. Her loyalty to Seth Harper clashed with the sickening guilt over playing a part in Jade’s death. Her path and Seth’s had crossed when they were both kids, and it was happening again. And all the darkness lurking under her skin and wedged deep in her memory had been stirred awake. She’d have to deal whether she wanted to or not.

But in the end it might come down to one thing.

Could she track down a friend to stop a killer? She hoped Seth would understand.

After Ray and Sam left, Jess sat with Alexa in silence on her living-room sofa. Her appetite had bitten the dust. And to her credit, her new companion gave her plenty of time to think—an intuitive gesture she appreciated.

Finally, she spoke. “Did I get Jade killed?”

Jess stared across the room, unable to look the woman in the eye. She had only thought about finding Mandy’s killer so Harper would walk on the charges. Her sole focus had been on her friend. Had she known someone else would have been murdered, would she have acted differently? The fact that she had to think about the answer scared her.

“Jessie, look at me.” The blonde waited until she did. “You had nothing to do with that woman’s death. My theory is that she got picked because she knew her killer. Whoever did this knew she’d file charges against Harper and probably beat her up to make it look good. You can’t take credit for all the bad choices Jade made in her life. She became a loose end, and someone felt the need to eliminate the threat. You had nothing to do with that.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say I had nothing to do with it.” She shook her head and pulled a pillow to her chest. “My gut tells me Harper would be safer in police custody, like Ray said. But I’m not sure I can be the one who takes him in.”

Duping Harper and betraying his trust felt so wrong. Even though Ray and Sam made a good point that it was time for tough love, she found herself flogging her brain for another option.

“I can do it, if you want,” Alexa offered.

“No, that would only be a cheap shot. He’d know I had something to do with it anyway. No, I gotta do this or find another option.” She took a deep breath. “But I could still use your help. Get me those financials. Maybe we can find something to chase while I’m looking for Harper. Can you put a rush on that?”

“Yeah, I’m on it.” Alexa stood and headed for the door, but turned to add, “You’re not alone in this, Jessie. And neither is Harper. We’re gonna find the bastard who’s really to blame.”

“Thanks, Alexa.” She forced a smile until the woman shut the door, then her smile faded.

Before she devised a scheme to track down Harper, she had a stop to make that was long overdue. Thinking about it brought on a rush of nausea. And her heart ramped up to the rhythm of her shallow breaths, the start of a panic attack she’d experienced far too many times whenever her past threatened to erode the makeshift foundation of her present.

But she had a feeling that facing Detective Max Jenkins alone would be important, an ordeal that fate had set in her path to try out her courage, taking it for a test drive. Confronting the demons of her childhood had always been her destiny—her way of dealing with it. In the back of her mind, she had always known that. Surviving her ordeal and being rescued had only been the beginning.

The real test was yet to come.

Golden Palms Villa
Late afternoon

In the back of her mind, Jess always suspected this day would come—and with it, a flood of mixed emotions gripped her. Driving up to the nursing home gave her a sense that her life was about to come full circle. And even though the prospect of that scared the hell out of her, she felt on the verge of change.

“Max Jenkins.”

She said his name aloud, a mantra that grounded her in the reality she’d soon be looking into the man’s eyes—the detective who had saved her life, taking her from darkness into the light. Seth’s father. She knew that seeing Max again would dredge up the ugliness of her childhood, but in order to confront her fears, she had to see him—to make him real and fix his face in her memory.

She owed him that much and more.

And for the first time, she felt strong enough to do it. This wasn’t about locating Seth. It was more about confronting her demons. Jess didn’t want to believe in fate. The concept was not only depressing, but she couldn’t fathom living in a world that had condemned her to the fate she had experienced as a once-innocent child. Yet how Seth’s life had crossed hers then and now had haunted her thoughts ever since she’d first learned of his connection to her past.

“Another puzzler from Harperworld.” She tried to smile but couldn’t summon one.

She parked her vehicle on the street facing the property, choosing to walk the rest of the way and work out the kinks in her sore muscles. The sunny afternoon carried a nice breeze, downright cheery. But she had serious doubts the good cheer would rub off.

“It’s now or never, Beckett.” She headed for the front door.

Located at the end of a street, the nursing home was set off the road, with a well-manicured front lawn and a wide, curved drive that led to the main entrance. A four-story building of red brick with a white column portico. Toward the back, a wall gave the residents privacy when they ventured outdoors onto the grounds. And a mix of commercial properties and older residences lined the street. The setting was modest but real homey. She’d seen fancier places. And if Anthony Salvatore had had more say in where Max lived, his accommodations might have been different. But she got the distinct impression that Seth had picked this place for his father.

Double glass doors listed the hours the facility would be open for guests. She had called ahead to make sure when she arrived that visiting hours would be under way. Stepping inside, she was greeted by a friendly face behind a reception desk. The young woman chose to ignore the bruises and cuts on her face, treating them as if they were invisible, a gesture Jess appreciated.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Max Jenkins. Can you tell me which room he’s in?”

“I’ll need you to sign in please.” While the woman hit a few keystrokes to pull up the information on her computer, Jess signed in under a fake name, not wanting to leave a trace she’d been to the place. But she took her time discreetly looking for Seth on the roster of guests. It didn’t take long to find his name, and she recognized his handwriting. He’d last visited late on a Friday—the week before his life went into the crapper—nearly two weeks ago.

“Mr. Jenkins is on the second floor. Number 204.” The woman smiled and pointed down the hall. “The elevators are to your right. And you’ll find signs upstairs to help you locate his room. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually, I’d like to speak to someone about Uncle Max. One of his nurses maybe. I live out of town, and this is my first visit. I’d like to get an update.”

“Then you’ll want to speak to Bernice Withers. She’s the second-floor nurse on duty. Her station is by the elevators. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

When Jess got to the second floor, she found the nurses’ station, but no one was there. That left her only one option. She took a deep breath and went looking for room 204, Max’s room. When she got there, his room was empty, but that didn’t stop her from looking around.

She wandered in and checked the view from his window, noticing his room faced the front entrance, a convenient situation for the stakeout she had planned. Even though seeing Max had been a huge part of why she’d come, the other reason for her visit left her feeling guilty. Jess had come to track down his son. And no amount of justifications or sugarcoating would change that fact.

“Excuse me. Can I help you?” A woman’s voice. Jess turned to see a nurse at the door.

The nurse wore a name tag, and Jess smiled when she saw it. Bernice had found her—a sturdy woman in white uniform and sensible shoes. She looked to be in her forties, with short brown hair streaked with gray. And she had a no-nonsense expression with the twinkle of good humor in her blue eyes—a face easy to trust.

“Yes, I’ve come to see Uncle Max. Is he here? I just got to town and wanted to see him before I headed out again.”

“I’m Bernice, honey. What’s your name?”

“I’m Michelle. Hi.”

“Michelle, come with me, dear. I took him to the dayroom. I’ll show you where it is.”

Jess accompanied the woman down a corridor toward a large sunny room at the end of the hallway. She took advantage of their time together by asking Bernice about Harper.

“I was hoping to see his son Seth while I was here. Has he been in lately?” She took the risk that this woman hadn’t seen Harper’s booking photo in the paper, but she’d know soon enough.

“You know, he missed last week, and that’s not like him. He comes every Friday, the last visiting hours of the day.” She smiled. “I told him once that his father isn’t aware of his punctuality, but he always said he wanted Max to count on him. Something about a promise to his father that he wanted to keep. I never had kids, but if I knew mine would turn out like that boy, I might’ve reconsidered.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Jess wondered how badly Seth wanted to keep the promise he’d made to his father. Getting arrested for murder had mucked up his last visit. And the cops seeking Harper as a person of interest in a second killing had “train wreck” written all over this week’s visit. And black humor aside, Harper would probably avoid daytime hours as too big a risk. To play it safe, she’d made up her mind to stake out the nursing home at night for as long as it took.

One thing she knew to count on was Harper’s loyalty. He’d told her once never to question it, that some things about him never changed. Of course at the time he was talking about his peculiar devotion to all things Jerry Springer, but she knew he’d intended to make a point, and she totally got it.

People who mattered to Harper got his full attention—the legacy of a father’s unintentional neglect.

Bernice led her across an airy room of sofa and chair groupings, card tables, and two televisions set to low. Windows along the far wall looked onto the grounds behind the nursing home, a pristine setting. Other residents took advantage of the inviting room and the view.

But one man in a wheelchair captured her attention. It had to be Max.

He sat alone, staring out a window. His body twitched and moved, and he muttered words she couldn’t hear. When she got close enough, his frailty shocked her. She remembered, as a child, being carried in his strong arms and hearing the comforting reassurance of his voice. It was all her young traumatized mind had grasped.

Time had changed everything—for both of them.

“Max, you’ve got a visitor.” Bernice raised her voice to make sure he heard. And to Jess, she gave advice. “It helps not to expect too much, honey. He’s got good days and bad. But you have a nice visit.”

She waited until Bernice walked away.

“Hello, Max.” She knelt in front of him and touched his hand. Nothing about this man triggered her recollection of his face until she looked into his eyes. Then it all came back in a rush, a flicker of images that connected.

“You may not remember me, but I sure as hell can’t forget you. You’re the man who saved my life. My name’s Jessica Beckett. You used to call me little Jessie, remember?”

For a brief instant, she saw recognition in his eyes. And he stopped his fidgeting and looked straight at her. But as quickly as their connection came, it faded away when his eyes glazed over again. Maybe it was only wishful thinking on her part that it had been there at all.

Undaunted, she pulled up a chair and began to talk—without a plan and without any expectation he’d understand. She would search for the words to explain what it meant to see him again and how things had been for her, then and now. And Jess wanted to tell him about his incredible son.

She hoped he would hear her.

10:15
P.M.

The stakeout looked to be a bust. Harper was a no-show, and the nursing home would soon shut its doors for the night. Jess finished the last of her cold coffee and stretched her aching back one more time. She’d moved the van down a side street and now sat steeped in the murky shadows of her vehicle. A bruise on her cheek throbbed with an aching heat, the aftermath of Pinzolo’s message from Nadir Beladi.

But Jess killed time by replaying the afternoon she’d spent with Harper’s father.

It had been a long day. Emotionally draining yet cathartic. Jess had told Max things she hadn’t even admitted to herself, knowing the one-way conversation had all the privacy of confessing to a priest. At the end of her visit, she had no delusions the truth would set her free, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

When she was a kid, the counseling sessions provided by the state had seemed like nothing more than a requirement, a box for an adult to check on a form. She preferred silence and isolation to the lip service of a state-provided psychiatrist. But after all these years, she felt ready to reopen the wounds that had never healed because talking to Max had been her choice.

The rush of emotions, old and new, had been instigated by Seth’s impact on her life. She was still grappling with those feelings when she noticed movement at the entrance to the nursing home. With binoculars, she confirmed the night nurse had shut the front doors for the evening. Visiting hours were officially over, and Harper hadn’t made an appearance. She took a deep breath and reached for the key dangling in the ignition to give it a turn when her cell phone rang.

“Yeah.”

Without any semblance of a greeting, Alexa got down to it. “You do realize I still have that tracking beacon on your van, right?”

Jess started to smile, but the effort hurt too much. “Yeah, I kind of like you knowing. You’re my anchor to a saner world.”

“That’s a scary thought,” she said. “What’s so fascinating? You’ve been in one spot for hours.”

“And you apparently have no life. Who’s worse off?” She sighed, and added, “I’m parked outside a nursing home.”

“You catch many bail jumpers in the blue-hair set?”

She would have made an effort to laugh, but she didn’t want to encourage her. “No, my money is on Harper keeping a promise. And I want to be here when he does. What’s up?”

“I received an encrypted file for the background checks and financials you requested. I’ve been digging into them today. You want the short version?”

She hoped having more information on Beladi, Burke, and Mandy would leave bread crumbs to follow. Harper could use a break.

“Yeah. Short works.”

“As you might have guessed, the smoker is cagey. We had to modify our searches to only his last name, and we found links to a series of corporations. Sleaze goes Wall Street. If I had to speculate, I’d say the man has family. And he’s been generous doling out his assets for the legitimate side of his enterprises, a way to launder his more lucrative business dollars.”

“You’ve got a list of assets I can see?”

“Yeah, I’ll send you what I’ve got. Give me an e-mail address.”

Jess gave her what she needed. And as curious as she was to see the material, she wouldn’t sneak a peek via her high-tech cell phone. These documents would require downloading and quality time for her to focus on each page.

“Hard to imagine Mandy hitting this guy up for cash.”

“Yeah. Now
that’s
a scary thought.”

Nadir Beladi certainly had the maliciousness and the deadly connections to be the bastard behind Harper’s frame job. But why? Had Mandy been stupid enough to blackmail him and drag Harper into her mess, guilt by association? Sure the smoker had deep pockets, but someone like Beladi would squash her like a roach underfoot. And he’d get Pinzolo to do the dirty work. She’d seen that firsthand.

Jess had a hard time imagining the self-destructive nerve it would have taken for Mandy to demand money from the smoker. But good sense was the first casualty when it came to drug addiction. More than likely, the crank did the thinking and talking for her.

“I’m thinking aloud here, but what would Mandy have on Mister Nicotine?” Alexa asked. “It wouldn’t take much for a guy like him to kill her. He doesn’t need a reason. Did she witness something that made her a target?”

“Could be. And Pinzolo looks like a guy who’d have a tattoo. Body art would be an improvement to butt ugly.” Thinking of him made her ache all over. “Anything on Mandy?”

“No, not much. She wasn’t exactly living on the grid like you and me. Well, like me,” she corrected. “I figured she did everything on a cash basis. Not much of a trail, and nothing current, but Burke is another story, one of the reasons this couldn’t wait for morning.”

More lights blinked off at the nursing home. And security lights kicked on.

“What’s up with Nipple Rings?”

“He’s not a financial wizard. No surprise there. But if he’s got cash stashed, it’s not showing on his bank statements or being reported to the IRS, which could be a nice club for the feds to wield if we find out otherwise. A couple of steady payments do stand out. Automatic debits. Nipples has a safe-deposit box and a storage unit he’s maintaining.”

“Nice. We won’t get close to the safe-deposit box, but that storage unit is another story.”