Читать книгу Running Blind - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 12

Hundreds of mourners picked their way across rain-soaked earth, following the pallbearers to a large tent covering the open grave. Black umbrella butted against black umbrella, the drip of rain and rustle of fabric mixing with hushed conversation and the slosh of feet on wet grass. Nikolai followed the crowd, his eyes on the vibrant blue umbrella near the head of the pack. It had been a week since he’d seen Jenna, but he had no trouble conjuring up an image of her face. He’d thought about her often in the days since he’d left her at the hospital.

Too often.

He’d wondered how she was doing. Worried that her vision hadn’t returned the way it was supposed to. He’d found himself calling Kane to check in on a daily basis, had almost given in to temptation and gone to the airport the day Jenna and her family had flown in for the funeral. That annoyed him. He was, after all, a confirmed bachelor. A guy who enjoyed freedom from the trappings of family and relationships.

At least he had been.

Things had changed in the past year. He’d reconnected with the sister he’d thought had been lost to him forever. He’d accepted a job working for Information Unlimited. He’d found himself with family ties and career ties, a small apartment in Houston and a church family that prayed for him when he was on assignment.

And now he found himself attending the funeral of a woman he didn’t know, offering support to someone he barely knew.

For sure he was changing, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

He skirted past a young couple carrying a crying toddler, bypassed several older couples and found a spot a dozen yards from the gravesite. Rain splashed onto his head and dripped down his face, but he didn’t bother wiping it away.

Under the tent, the pastor began to speak, his deep voice carrying across the cemetery, the words meant to comfort. How, though, could one find comfort in death? Even knowledge of God and Heaven did not take away the sting of goodbyes said too early. Nikolai had said enough of them to know that.

Magdalena Romero had been shot in cold blood. The truth of that tainted the victorious message of everlasting life that the pastor offered. Had a woman so admired by so many been involved in drug trafficking? That seemed to be the angle the DEA was pursuing. Nikolai had heard the same from the Mexican police he’d spoken to.

Yet Jenna was convinced of her friend’s innocence.

Either way, a young mother was gone, her son childless, her husband a widower.

The pastor finished speaking and family members placed pink and white roses on top of the casket. One by one, the mourners who’d braved the weather did the same. One by one, they said their goodbyes, shook the rain off their shoes and got back into their cars. A dark-haired man ushered a toddler away from the grave. The little boy splashed in a puddle near one of the limousines. Was he Magdalena’s child? If so, he was much too young to understand the finality of his mother’s death and burial.

It didn’t take long for the gravesite to empty of all but a few mourners. The dark-haired man and the child were joined by an older couple, and the four climbed into the limousine. The driver slowly pulled away.

Jenna stood beneath the tent, her umbrella held loosely in her hand. Kane and an older couple stood to her right. She said something, and the three walked toward a dark sedan parked nearby, leaving Jenna in front of the casket.

Alone, she seemed much smaller than Nikolai remembered. More fragile and less tough. In his memory, she’d been someone for whom losing would never be an option. Looking at her now, seeing her bowed shoulders and head, he had the impression of defeat rather than victory.

Grass and water sloshed under his feet as he crossed the space between them. The tent was nearly empty, the funeral home staff hovering a respectable distance away, waiting for the last mourner to leave. Hundreds of roses covered the gleaming mahogany casket, and the area surrounding the grave was littered with glistening petals. Nikolai lay his rose on top of the pile, saying a silent prayer for Magdalena’s family.

“She would have loved this.” Jenna spoke quietly, and Nikolai turned, his breath catching as he looked into her eyes. He’d been wrong to think she was vulnerable, to believe that she was defeated. There was fire in her pale blue eyes, and a need for revenge that Nikolai understood only too well.

“You’re Nikolai, right?” She smiled and took a step toward him, the scent of vanilla hanging in the air as she offered her hand.

“That’s right.” He clasped hands with her, feeling the strength of her fingers and the calloused ridges on her palms.

“I thought so, but my vision wasn’t that great when we last saw each other, and I wasn’t sure.”

“I wondered if you’d recognize me.”

“I almost didn’t. I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“I wanted to pay my respects, and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Thank you. For both things.” She stepped past him, the scent of vanilla stronger as she placed her hand on the lid of the coffin. “She was much too young to die.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

She glanced over her shoulder, offering a sad smile. “I suppose so, but Magdalena really was young. Just thirty. With a young son who needed her.” She shook her head, let her hand fall away from the casket. “It shouldn’t have happened. I want to know why it did.”

“Your brother told me that when we spoke last.”

“And that’s why you’re really here? To make sure I don’t go running off to Mexico in some mad quest for revenge?”

“I already told you why I’m here.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that my brother needs to get back to Washington and doesn’t want to leave me here for a few days?”

“He mentioned that, but it’s not my reason for coming.”

“No? So Kane never asked you to play bodyguard when he returns to Spokane?”

“Not in so many words.”

“I knew it. I’m going to have to have a talk with that brother of mine.” She would have walked away, but Nikolai put a hand on her arm, holding her in place. Despite the fire in her eyes and the calluses on her hands, she was very thin, her bone structure fine. He loosened his grip, not wanting to bruise her.

“Your brother simply asked me to check in on you a few times while you were in Houston. Since I live just a few miles from the hotel, it wasn’t an unreasonable request.”

“You don’t need to check in on me at all, Nikolai. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“That’s what I told your brother.”

“Yet you’re still here.”

“Would you rather I not have come?”

She frowned, smoothing a hand over her hair, her thick bangs parting to reveal the fading bruise on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. Too many people asking too many questions that don’t make sense, I guess. But, then, none of this makes sense.” She gestured to the casket. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

“How are her husband and son holding up?”

“John is…stoic. There’s been a lot of media attention surrounding the case, and I think he’s trying to keep his emotions in check. Little Benjamin keeps asking when his mother is coming home. I don’t think he can wrap his mind around the word never. He’s too young to understand and too young to retain many memories of his mother.”

“He’ll have you and his father and his family to remind him.”

“Yes. That’s true.” She turned back to the casket, bowing her head, perhaps praying as Nikolai had done. Did she wonder, as he often did, how God could allow good people to die so brutally? Or did she simply accept that the world was a sinful and fallen place and that tragedy was not limited to those who truly seemed deserving of it?

The wind gusted, blowing rain under the tent and scattering rose pedals across the slick green grass. Jenna shivered. “I guess this is it, then. Goodbye, dear friend.” She kissed her fingers, set them on the casket one last time and turned away.

Nikolai fell into step beside her as she walked away, not speaking, knowing there was nothing he could say that would ease Jenna’s grief.

The silence lasted until they reached the black sedan and the door opened, Kane stepping out into the rain. “Umbrellas are more useful when they’re open, Jen. You’d better get in the car where it’s dry,” he said, nodding a greeting at Nikolai.

“A little rain never hurt anyone,” she responded, not bothering to do as he’d asked. “Will you be coming to the reception, Nikolai?”

“I understood it was only for close friends and family.”

“And their guests. There’s no reason why you can’t be one of mine.”

“It might be best if I leave the family to their privacy.”

“John is expecting 150 people. I don’t think privacy is something he’s worried about. Besides, I had a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”

“A proposition?”

“A job.”

“What are you talking about, Jenna?” Kane sounded exasperated, and Jenna patted him on the arm.

“Nothing worrisome. I just needed some help doing some research. You said Nikolai does freelance work for you, and I thought he might like an extra job.”

“Does this have something to do with Magdalena?”

“What if it does?” She met her brother’s eyes, the fire back in her gaze.

“The men who killed your friend are dangerous, Jenna. I don’t want you going after them. Leave that to the police.”

“So far, the police haven’t done squat. Will you come to the reception, Nikolai?”

The look Kane sent his way told Nikolai exactly what his answer should be, but he’d never been one to conform to others’ expectations. Obviously, Jenna had a plan for finding her friend’s killer. Obviously, she was going to keep searching until she found someone to help her. Nikolai wasn’t sure he’d be the person to do that, but there was nothing wrong with hearing her out.

“Sure.”

“Good. You can follow us over.” Jenna’s smile was brilliant, and Nikolai found himself smiling in return as she slid into the car and turned to speak to one of the occupants.

“You’re not seriously considering helping my sister,” Kane asked quietly, and Nikolai’s smile fell away.

“It depends on what she needs and what she’s willing to pay.”

“That’s rather mercenary, even for you.”

“It is what it is.” Nikolai shrugged, not at all offended by Kane’s assessment. If he chose to help Jenna, he’d probably do it free of charge. But that was his business and his decision, not something he planned to discuss with Kane.

“She’s been through a lot in the past few years, Nikolai. Don’t make things worse by stringing her along, promising her something you can’t deliver.”

“If I promise her something, I’ll deliver.”

Kane frowned, but didn’t push the conversation any further. He’d been the one, after all, who’d called Nikolai when he couldn’t reach Jenna by phone during her trip to Mexico. He’d been the one to call him and ask him to check on Jenna during her stay in Houston.

“Are you two done? We need to head over to the reception,” Jenna called out from the car, and Kane nodded, shooting Nikolai a hard look as he got in and closed the door.

Nikolai ignored it. He wanted to know Jenna’s plan. Only if he knew it could he be sure that she wasn’t going to put herself right back in the path of danger. He jogged the few yards to his GTO and climbed in, following Kane to an upscale neighborhood on the edge of downtown Houston. Executive homes stood on large lots, their mature landscaping speaking of a well-established community. Dozens of cars lined the street, and Nikolai found a parking spot and waited as the Doughertys got out of their vehicle.

“I’m glad you came,” Jenna called out as she walked toward him.

“It’s not a problem.”

“I’m sure my brother asked you not to.”

“I did not,” Kane said as he and an older couple joined Jenna. “I don’t think you’ve met my parents, Nikolai. Lila and Richard Dougherty, this is Nikolai Jansen.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nikolai offered each a brief handshake.

“We can’t begin to tell you how grateful we are for all you’ve done.” Mrs. Dougherty pulled Nikolai into an unexpected hug, and Nikolai wasn’t sure if he should pull back or let her have her way.

“Mom, give the poor man some room to breathe,” Jenna said, tugging her mother away.

“Sorry, but I’ve been waiting nearly a week to thank you.” Mrs. Dougherty patted his arm, and he smiled. Her eyes were the same pale blue as her daughter’s, and looking at her gave him a glimpse into what Jenna would be like in thirty years.

“There’s no need to thank me. I did what anyone would have, given the chance.”

“You went above and beyond, and we won’t forget it,” Mr. Dougherty added, and Nikolai met his gaze, saw the worry there.

“Why don’t you guys continue your lovefest inside?” Jenna broke in, her cheeks blazing.

“Good idea. Is that the house?” Nikolai gestured to a large Greek Revival that sat far back on a manicured yard.

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Jenna agreed, but she didn’t sound like she meant it.

“You don’t like it?” Nikolai walked up the driveway with her.

“It doesn’t seem like Magdalena’s style.”

“What do you mean?”

“Big fancy house, big fancy lawn. She liked simpler things.”

“Yet she lived here.”

“John wanted something larger than the little condo they had downtown. This is the first time I’ve been to the house. The opulence surprised me.” She reached out to ring the doorbell, but before she could, the door opened and a young man ushered them inside.

He took their coats and umbrellas, then disappeared, leaving them standing in a large foyer. Marble tiles gleamed in light from an ostentatious chandelier, and a wide curved staircase led to a second-story landing. Obviously, the doctor and her husband had been doing well financially.

“The reception is in the ballroom,” Jenna said, leading the way through a long hallway.

“A ballroom? I thought ballrooms went out of style a century ago.” Richard Dougherty spoke in a hushed voice as they made their way through wide double doors and into an expansive room.

“Apparently they’re back in style,” Kane replied, but Nikolai wasn’t sure he agreed.

Maybe ballrooms were in vogue, but the cavernous room echoed with the sound of quiet conversation and clinking glassware, and Nikolai couldn’t imagine that such a place would ever be in style. The waitstaff milled around the mourners, offering drinks and finger foods. Off to one side of the room, in a back corner where it was barely noticeable, a poster-sized photo stood on an easel.

“That’s Magdalena. Would you like to see what she looked like?”

“Sure.” He followed Jenna across the room and studied the photo of the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman. “She was lovely.”

“As lovely on the inside as she was on the outside.” A tall dark-haired man moved toward them, his brown eyes meeting Nikolai’s briefly before he turned his attention to Jenna. “I’m glad you made it, Jen. I was worried this all might be too much for you so soon after…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

“You know I wouldn’t be anywhere else, John.”

John? As in John Romero, Magdalena’s husband?

Before Nikolai could ask, the other man pulled Jenna in for a hug, keeping his arm around her waist as he met Nikolai’s eyes again. “You must be Nikolai. I was hoping Jenna would ask you to come. I know that if my wife had survived, she would have wanted to thank you for saving her best friend’s life.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to save her as well.”

“I am, too, but I know that you did all you could.” John offered a sad smile that didn’t sit well with Nikolai. Something about the guy’s response seemed rehearsed. As if he’d stood in front of a mirror and practiced just the right smile and just the right words.

Then again, his family had been in the spotlight since Magdalena’s death. Some people were jumping to Magdalena’s defense. Others were whispering about the possibility of drug addiction and illegal drug trafficking. Perhaps John merely wanted to avoid more undue attention and was hiding his true emotions because of that.

“How is little Benjamin doing?” Jenna’s mother asked, and John offered a more relaxed smile.

“As well as can be expected. He’s down in the playroom with some of his buddies. My mother and the nanny are watching them.”

“I think I’ll go down and see him.” Jenna stepped away from John’s arm, and Nikolai wondered if the embrace had made her uncomfortable. Did she know John well? Or were they simply two people brought together through their mutual love for Magdalena?

“Would the rest of you like a tour of the house? It was Magdalena’s pride and joy. Showing it off makes me feel a little closer to her.”

The Doughertys were quick to accept the offer, though Nikolai was sure he saw tension in Kane’s shoulders as he walked away. Maybe he, too, sensed something phony about Magdalena’s husband.

And maybe Nikolai was looking for trouble where there wasn’t any.

He didn’t join the group following Romero. Instead, he followed Jenna back through the large ballroom and into the corridor. He expected her to find the basement door and retreat to the playroom, but she veered to the left, walking into a large dining room. French doors opened onto a covered patio, and she pushed them open, walking out into the gray day.

She probably wanted to be alone, and Nikolai probably should have respected that. But there’d been something about the look in her eyes when Romero talked about his wife, something about the tension in her face that begged questions.

He crossed the room, walked out onto the patio. Rain pattered against the roof and dripped from the eaves, the sound quiet and soothing. “Did you come out to get away from the crowd or from Magdalena’s husband?”

“Both,” Jenna responded, not turning to look at him.

“You don’t like him?” He walked up beside her, the wind splattering rain across the porch.

“Magdalena loved him.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I’ve never thought my opinion of John mattered much. He was Magdalena’s husband. He supported her dreams and her humanitarian missions. He’s a good father to their son.” She shrugged.

“But you’ve never liked him.”

“I’ve never not liked him. It’s just that aside from Magdalena, we had nothing in common. Now that she’s gone, we have nothing to say to each other.”

“Has he asked about your time in Mexico?”

“Once, but the details were too difficult for him to hear. Magdalena and Benjamin are his life, and he couldn’t stand to think of Magdalena terrified and hurt.” She shuddered, and Nikolai put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through, Jenna. I know how difficult it is to lose someone you love.”

“Then you’ll understand why I need your help.”

“I understand that you want your friend’s killer to go to jail, but you have to understand that the likelihood of that happening is slim to none.”

“Did you think that’s what I was going to ask you to do? Go after her killer?” She turned and they were inches apart, her hair dark with rain, her skin dewy. Long lashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked, and Nikolai found himself being pulled into her gaze, losing himself in the pale blue of her eyes.

“Is there something else that you need?”

“Magdalena was a woman of faith. She was committed to God, to her family and to humanity in that order. She never, ever would have done anything that would hurt another person. Ever. Now people are talking about her as if all the things she did while she was alive mean nothing.”

“The circumstances of her death were unusual.”

“That doesn’t mean she was guilty of a crime.”

“What is it that you want me to do, Jenna?”

“I want you to prove that Magdalena had nothing to do with the Mexican Panthers.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“You seem like the kind of person who would be up for the challenge.”

Nikolai could have said no. He’d said it before to other people in other situations. As sorry as he felt for Magdalena’s family, he could have walked away, let things play out however they would. It was the responsibility of the Mexican police and the DEA to uncover the truth about why Magdalena had been executed.

He could have said no, but he’d always liked a challenge, and he’d always had a passion for the truth. And he found he couldn’t look in Jenna’s eyes, couldn’t see the sorrow there and deny her request.

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“I don’t need promises.”

“Then I guess I’m your man,” he said, before he could think better of it.

“Thanks.” Jenna smiled, shivering again as the wind blew more rain under the porch.

“Thank me after I’ve done the job. Come on. We’d better go in before you freeze.” He took her hand, started to lead her back to the door. A sharp crack split the air, and Nikolai dove for cover, grabbing Jenna by the waist and pulling her down, covering her body with his as another crack followed the first. Dirt and grass flew into his face, water and mud splashing into his eyes. He blinked it away, scanning the area beyond the porch. Trees lined the back edge of the property, and he was sure he saw someone there.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Someone called out from the house, and the figure in the trees moved away.

“You okay?” Nikolai looked down into Jenna’s face.

“I will be once I can breathe again.”

“Sorry.” He stood, searching the tree line again, tracking the figure. “Go in the house, okay?”

“What—”

“Have someone call the police. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Nik—”

He didn’t wait to hear what Jenna said. The shooter had disappeared, and if Nikolai planned to catch him, the time for doing so was now.

And he did plan to catch him.

Jenna had escaped death in Mexico, but it seemed that it was hunting her again. Why?

It was a question only the gunman could answer, and Nikolai had every intention of making sure he did.