Читать книгу Mischief 24/7 - Kasey Michaels, Кейси Майклс, Kasey Michaels - Страница 12

“No. NOT YET, NOT YET, you idiot… don’t leave yet, don’t go…” Jade pleaded, keeping her eyes firmly closed, trying to recapture the dream. No, not a dream. A memory. Her life, the one she’d had within her grasp and then so carelessly thrown away.

She gave up and opened her eyes, silently cursing the ringing phone that had awoken her, sparing one of her choicest swear words for Court, who seemed to think nothing of doing business in the middle of the night. The least he could do was answer the damn phone.

“Four o’clock?” she muttered, aiming her outstretched arm toward the nightstand. Her fingers closed on the receiver and she pulled the phone onto the bed with her as she fell back against the pillows. “Mr. Becket will be with you in a moment,” she half slurred into the phone, praying she was right. Otherwise, she’d have to get up and go hunt Court down. And then kill him.

“Which one are you?”

Jade pulled the phone away from her ear and squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment, hoping she’d feel more awake when she opened them again. The voice was deep, most probably male and obviously disguised by one of those electronic devices anyone could pick up on eBay. Probably the same guy who had called before, the one Matt’s friend Ernesto had thought was a kid playing phone pranks.

Fully awake now, Jade held the phone to her ear once more. “Screw you,” she said, and then winced. Obviously she couldn’t be as awake as she thought she was. Screw you wasn’t exactly the snappiest comeback in the books.

“Okay, you’re the bitchy one. Jade, right? Not the actress? I’ll bet most of your callers want to talk to the actress. Too bad, but as long as I have you, how about we just chat?”

“How about I just hang up and you go seek professional help?”

The caller went on as if Jade hadn’t said anything. “Brains are messy, aren’t they, Jade? They hit that knotty-pine paneling, and then they slide down it, the bits that don’t get hung up on the pieces of skull stuck in the wood like shrapnel. No, never mind. You don’t have to answer me.

You know how it looks, Jade, don’t you? You saw how it works.”

Jade quickly covered her mouth with her hand, afraid she might vomit. Then she took it away and sucked in a lungful of air, letting it out again slowly. She had to calm down, refuse to let this guy get to her. They’d had a million phone calls since Jessica had the bright idea of putting their number on the air during her news-magazine show, asking for help from the public. What they’d gotten were whack-jobs. One good lead with Melodie’s shampoo tech, granted. But most of the calls were like this one, complete with electronic voice disguisers. So many sick tickets out there with time on their hands. “And you’d know this how?”

“How do you think I know?”

She should just hang up, but she was too angry. “Are you confessing to killing my father? Hey, terrific. But first tell me what you did with Jimmy Hoffa. Is he really buried beneath the goalposts at the Meadowlands?”

“Back off, shut down that smart mouth of yours, or else I’ll show you how I did it. I can get at you, any one of you, anytime I want. For instance, do you know where your blond-bimbo sister is right now? I do. Should I reach out and touch her, or are you going to behave?”

Okay. This had never been funny, but now it was turning ugly, and Jade was beginning to get a cold, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, because she didn’t know where Jessica was right now. She was already half out of the bed when her bedroom door opened and Court stepped inside, a cordless phone to his ear. He lifted one finger to his lips and then motioned to her to keep talking, keep the caller on the line.

“It’s a little late at night for fairy tales,” she said as she subsided back onto the bed, her eyes on Court as he advanced across the room toward her and squeezed her outstretched hand. “Or should we just call that threat what it is—you’re blowing smoke.”

“Am I? Do you really want to find out?”

Oh, my God oh, my God oh, my God. Jade began to rock back and forth on the bed as Court put down the cordless and fished his cell phone out of his pants pocket. She knew what he was doing. He was calling Jessica’s cell, or Matt’s. Hurry hurry hurry. Make her answer make her answer.

“All right, you’ve got my attention now, so talk to me,” Jade told the caller, clutching at anything she could think of to say, hoping to keep the monster on the line. Joshua Brainard? Was she talking to Joshua Brainard? No, that wasn’t likely. What were the odds? Jess had said something about the whole world knowing something soon. Whatever she and Matt had done, were doing, might already be public knowledge. “Why are you calling me? What do you want?”

“You know what I want. I want you and your sisters to stop digging where you shouldn’t be digging. Parading yourself all over television and the newspapers, crying about your poor dead daddy. A person could get hurt sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Your old man is dead. You don’t really want to join him, do you?”

Court smiled and held his cell phone to Jade’s free ear.

“Hello? I said, hello! Do you have any idea how scary it is to hear a phone ring at four in the morning, Jade? Damn it, Jade, talk to me, and if someone isn’t bleeding to death, I’m going to—”

Jade sagged in relief as Court pulled the phone away and walked to a corner of the room to tell Jessica what was happening. Matt was with her. Matt was a cop, he carried a gun. He’d protect her.

“Party’s over,” Jade said to the anonymous caller. “We won’t say it hasn’t been fun, you getting to play with your little electronic toy and pretend you’re a real bad guy, just like in the movies, but I’m hanging up now.” Jade climbed out of bed, her fears all turned to cold, hard anger.

She’d decided it was time she took control, control she had ceded to the man the moment she’d picked up the phone, and got rid of this squirrel once and for all. If it was Brainard, she knew where to find him. But chances were it wasn’t—Brainard was too smart to play phone tag with her. “Look, hey, before I go, let me tell you something. Call here again and I’m going to make finding and prosecuting you my own personal project. You got that?”

She slammed the phone back down even as Court took her in his arms and held her trembling body close against his strength. “Good girl,” he crooned into her hair. “Good girl. That had to be an idiot with a sick sense of humor. Matt warned us this could happen again. Not that the bastard didn’t have me going for a minute there. I think it’s that electronic disguise of the voice that makes it all sound so real.”

“That’s the whole point of it, to weird us out that way. I should have hung up the minute I realized it was a wacko with a hard-on for causing other people misery,” she said against his chest before pushing herself away from him to begin pacing, burning off her adrenaline-burst of energy.

“It’s that he had Sam’s private number—that’s what kept me hanging on the phone. This makes twice he’s called. Not your average squirrel, like Matt said, and he really had me going, too, when he started asking if I knew where Jess was. There are some badly bent people in this world.”

“Matt got on the phone with me once Jess calmed down. He said you and I are to stick here at Sam’s until he gets back,” Court told her, watching her from the bed. “They’re in South Carolina, by the way, but they’ll definitely be back tomorrow night, as promised. Tonight, actually. Or sooner, if they can get an earlier flight. Not that I hadn’t already half planned to call Matt before this phone call and get him back here, in case you hadn’t figured that out on your own.”

“I did. But I was hoping you wouldn’t do it.”

Court ran his fingers through his already mussed hair. “I know how much you want to confront Brainard on your own. I was still wrestling with my conscience when our new friend called.”

“Pretty much taking the decision out of your hands, at which point you told Matt everything. I understand.” Jade stopped pacing to look questioningly at Court. “South Carolina? What in hell are they doing in South Carolina?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but they’re down there meeting Matt’s mother and father,” Court said, smiling. “That’s where his dad retired when he left the force, some rural area that took them a plane change to get to, he said. According to Matt, Jess has already charmed the socks off them, even if they had to drag themselves to the airport at midnight to pick them up. I don’t understand the rush, but Matt said something about it all going public on television by tomorrow morning, anyway, just as Jess hinted to you, so he wanted to get to them first. I didn’t pursue it. They’re already planning the wedding, Jess and Matt’s mother. Oh, and Matt sounds a little… dazed.”

“I wish I’d taped her show tonight. I have a feeling it was pretty good.” Jade tried to smile. She was happy for her sister, both her sisters. Out of tragedy had come Jolie’s reconciliation with Sam, and Jessica’s meeting Lieutenant Matthew Denby could almost be seen as Teddy reaching down from heaven to make sure his Little Princess would be taken care of now that he was gone.

Leaving her, Jade, to wish she could see the same sort of happy ending for herself. But again Teddy had left her with the responsibility, hadn’t he? Just as he’d left her to find him in his—“Oh, my God, Court.”

Court was on his feet immediately. “Jade? You’ve gone white as a ghost. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Jade began pacing once more, her mind racing. “I was only half-awake when the phone rang, still fighting off a dream I’d had about… Never mind. It’s my only excuse. I was only half-awake and I was mad, not thinking clearly. How else did I miss it? He was trying to scare me, sure, but he slipped up, said too much. Cocky bastard, blowing his own horn. He said knotty pine, Court. Knotty pine.”

“Damn it, you’re right. I heard that, too, but I didn’t pick up on it. Teddy’s office had knotty-pine paneling. Jesus, Jade.” Court pulled his cell phone from his pocket once more. “I’m calling Matt. He needs to get back here now, even if he has to charter a plane to do it. He can do things we can’t. He might even be able to find out where the bastard was calling from.”

Jade raced over and closed the cell phone, torn between relief and a new urgency. “No, please don’t do that. He tried doing that after the first call, and it didn’t work. These guys use throw-away cell phones now and we can’t trace them. Besides, it’s already almost morning. You said they’ll be home tonight. Don’t bother them.”

Court looked at her, his expression tight. “I never thought you believed me to be stupid, Jade. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re not still doing this on your own, not after that call. Not if I have to tie you to the bedpost.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m just going to talk to Brainard, in his office, in a public place. That’s all, Court. The plan hasn’t changed. What else would I do—go in there with my six-guns blazing, like we’re in the Old West?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, you’re not doing it. This call changes everything, and you know it. You’ll look at him, and he’ll see that you know, that you’re a real, imminent danger to him, and suddenly the target is pinned to your back. He’s talked to you now, he knows you’re no pushover. That surprise element you’re hoping for, charging in there and springing what you know about Tarin White? That’s all gone now, Jade. Hell, if he’s got a brain at all, he’ll simply refuse to see you.”

“I can play a role. I’ve done it before. You’ve seen me do it.” Jade winced, as they both knew she was referring to the night they’d met. “Besides,” she added quickly, “half of being a PI is acting.”

“You’re not Jolie. Besides, nobody’s that good an actor. You won’t let me contact the police, and

I understand why you’re against that after the way you were treated the night Teddy died, which means we’ll wait for Matt. So scratch any visits to Brainard’s campaign headquarters, his house or anyplace he might be later today giving one of his speeches. You’re not going, it’s not happening. I forbid… Oh, damn. I should have quit while I was ahead, shouldn’t I?”

Jade smiled at him. She couldn’t believe it, but she actually felt… happy. They hadn’t discussed it, but both she and Court knew what hearing the words knotty pine really meant. Just those two small words, and everything had changed. Those words meant that Teddy hadn’t been alone when he died and he hadn’t killed himself. The call also meant that they were getting close, really close, and it might have been Jade who’d felt spooked by the call, but it was the killer, it was Joshua Brainard, who was really spooked. She felt like rubbing her hands together in glee like a mad scientist. She felt like dancing a jig—which was stupid.

“It doesn’t matter where you quit, Court, because I’m still going to do what I’m going to do. You know that. I know that. That call didn’t change my plans, it just made them more urgent. We’re almost there, Court. We’re already looking at the right answers, and Brainard knows it. I can’t not confront him—we have to end this.”

“I agree that we’re close. I’ll give you that much.”

“Good. So, please, let’s not argue. Although, if you want me to yell at you, you could always try that ‘I forbid it’ line again. Now excuse me, I’m going to go shower and look over the files one last time. I’m betting we have more of the answers, more of the puzzle pieces, than we think we do, more fact than conjecture. I can’t sleep anymore, anyway. Besides, don’t you have phone calls to make?”

“I do, unfortunately,” Court said, and sighed. He looked rumpled, and worried, but Jade could see that his sharp mind was also considering the ramifications of the phone call. “He did say it. I heard him. Knotty pine. He could have said ‘the wall,’ or even just ‘paneling,’ but he was specific.”

“And, according to the decorating magazines, knotty pine isn’t exactly a big trend out there right now.”

“And probably hasn’t been since the middle of the last century. Teddy’s whole office was one big time warp. Brainard really slipped up with that one. What I’m not quite getting is why he’s making these calls at all. I mean, what’s the point?

Nobody ever backed away from something important because of a threatening phone call.”

“Maybe not you, Court, not a man—but a woman might,” Jade pointed out sarcastically. “At least that’s how a man who has no real respect or regard for women might think about it. The calls make for one more nail in Brainard’s coffin—something else that leads straight back to him. I’d say he’s afraid of what we’re doing, but even I don’t completely buy that one.”

“I understand. He’s worried, but he still thinks he’s in the driver’s seat.”

“His ego again, right. He thinks he committed the perfect crimes all those years ago, and again now. Reaching out to touch us, talking about seeing Teddy? That was arrogance, Court, plain and simple. And a man who can’t stand not being in control, not being the one giving the orders. He almost told us who he is with this latest phone call, although I doubt that was part of his plan.”

“He’s someone used to being obeyed, as well, maybe used to having his name and background pave over any potholes for him.”

“Exactly. That threat about Jessica was a sort of ultimatum—drop what you’re doing or suffer the consequences. He had control for a while, too, until I heard Jess’s voice. Then I took control back by hanging up on him. It’s all shrink stuff I’ve read about a thousand times, the ceding and taking of power. We’re not dealing with Joe Blow Average Guy here, Court. We’re dealing with a man used to being in the catbird seat his entire life, giving all the orders and getting what he wants. Which again leads right back to Joshua Brainard. He fits the bill, right down to his poor opinion of women. He cheated on his wife, remember?”

“So that’s what, bottom line, you think these phone calls have been about? The man is trying to control you? You?” Now Court smiled, but it was a self-mocking smile. “Lots of luck with that. I’m still living with the consequences of my own stab at offering you an ultimatum. And no, we probably don’t want to go there right now, so I’ll shut up.”

“Who says men aren’t intuitive?” she quipped, trying to smile. This was no time for ancient history. But the time was coming, and they both knew that. In some strange way, Teddy’s death, the old cases, Brainard’s imminent arrest for murder, they were all preludes to the main event. At some point, she and Court had to talk about the past. Only then could they consider a future.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You’ll be all right? We have an agreement here? No ditching me and sneaking down the back staircase and out into the foggy, early-morning darkness, swirling your cape as you head off to confront Joshua Brainard on your own?”

“Last time I had to do a pinky-swear was with Jess, when she was eleven. Yes, I promise.”

“I’d ask what a pinky-swear is, but it’s probably a girl thing, right?”

“Pretty much. And I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I checked on the Internet, and Brainard isn’t scheduled to appear in public until seven-thirty tonight. We have all day to get through before anybody swirls any capes.”

“So Matt and Jess will most probably be back by then. And you made me go through all that business about warning you not to try anything on your own?”

Jade nodded, feeling almost childish. “Yeah. You’re cute when you’re concerned. I mean, I could have done without that ‘I forbid it’ part, but the rest was pretty nice. I, uh, I like when you care. It’s nice.”

“No, Jade. It’s love,” Court said quietly. He was silent for a moment while she felt herself longing to melt into his arms. “Okay, then. I’ll see you downstairs at seven.”

“If Mrs. Archer isn’t up yet, I’ll make us some bacon and eggs,” Jade promised as she lifted her hand in a halfhearted wave. Once Court was gone, she grabbed clean underclothes from a drawer and half ran for the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the fear she’d felt when she’d thought Jessica might be in danger. She shouldn’t have let Brainard be the one in control, not even for a moment.

“Always be the one pulling the strings, Jade, honey, never the one dancing to someone else’s tune at the end of them,” Teddy had told her more than once when he’d explained the balance of power as it applied to the way he’d worked suspects during his years on the police force. She had the strings now, nearly all of them, Jade believed, and it was time to make Joshua Brainard dance to her tune.

Daylight couldn’t come soon enough for her, and the all-day wait until Brainard’s first public appearance at his seven-thirty rally seemed light-years in the future. Still, she had to prepare, as well as find a way to fill the hours. She’d read those damn files so often she knew most of them by heart. She’d give them one more shot, but she couldn’t face another day of doing nothing but reading them again.

She had a command of the facts now. She’d filled in any blanks with supposition and intuition. She’d practiced a killer opening line for when she confronted Brainard, sure, but after that she was prepared to simply wing it, go where Brainard took her for a while and then lead him where she needed him to go.

She’d save the Baby in the Dumpster for her coup de grâce, hit him right where he lived. No quarter, as Teddy would crow, no mercy.

So maybe, to kill some time, she’d do a little more work on the Scholar Athlete case, the one she’d chosen when she and Jess and Jolie had first divided up the cold cases. Jermayne Johnson haunted her, the sad, lost little boy still residing deep inside that huge, mostly grown-up body. If she needed closure about Teddy’s death, how Jermayne must have been longing for the same thing in his brother’s case this past decade and more.

Yes, that was what she’d do. She’d take another run at Jermayne, press him to remember more about the friends his brother, Terrell, had run with before he was killed, things like that. People knew, remembered, more than they thought they did. It was just a matter of coming at them from the right angle. You could ask the same question a dozen times and not be happy with the answer, and then, the thirteenth time, trying yet another approach, you could hit pay dirt.

Court could go with her, since he was feeling so protective of her. She had a feeling he’d be like gum on the bottom of her shoe until Joshua Brainard was arrested.

Then again, Court Becket, rich and powerful, also liked being in control. That was why they’d fought. That was why they’d both won their last argument, just as they’d both also lost it.

Jade had already begun stripping out of her pajamas when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sink and stopped, approached the glass.

Who was this woman? Her hair long and straight, with no hint of curl because the curling iron had broken and she hadn’t bothered to buy a new one. When was that? A year ago?

Jade touched a hand to her cheek, her too-thin cheek. She unbuttoned her no-nonsense cotton pajamas and pushed back the material to see the hollows around her collar bone, actual concave scoops. Thin might be in, but not this thin. When was the last time she’d had an appetite?

Tipping her head to one side, Jade continued the inventory. Eyes, huge but dull. Her complexion almost muddy. She leaned in close to the mirror, tracing what looked to be fine lines forming between her nose and mouth. She didn’t wear foundation or powder. She didn’t even bother with face creams or sunscreen. And it showed.

She was only eleven months older than Jolie, and Jolie looked a good five years younger.

Where was the young, carefree Jade, the girl she had been? Where was the well-loved woman she’d seen in the mirror at Court’s hotel the morning after their first night together? Where had that woman gone?

Was there any way to get her back? Any way to get back what she’d lost?

“It doesn’t matter,” she told her reflection. “Nothing matters now but proving Joshua Brainard murdered Teddy. Nothing and no one can matter. Not me, not Court, not the past and not the future. Just the now. You got that?”

Jade turned away from the mirror, unable to lie to herself face-to-face.

Changing her mind about the shower, she returned to the bedroom to pull on cotton-knit shorts and a sleeveless top, and headed down to Sam’s exercise room, intent on running a couple of miles on the treadmill.

If only the treadmill was a time machine, and the faster she ran, the more the calendar flipped backward, until she’d returned to those first days after she’d met Court. Then, this time, she could move forward without making all the same dumb mistakes.