Secrets That Kill: A Shelby Nichols Adventure Read online

  Warren dropped down just as a loud banging sounded from the front door, and I heard someone yelling a command to go around to the back. Warren grabbed my wrist, and we ran across the parking spaces to an alley where a black Mustang was parked out of sight. Warren popped the trunk open, and we threw in our stuff and jumped into the car.

  I had barely closed the door when Warren put the car in first gear and peeled out. The alleyway turned into another parking lot, and Warren made a hard right, the back tires skidding on the pavement. I cringed, hoping no one was coming our way, and grabbed the seatbelt. I clicked it in place and glanced up to find the lane coming to an end.

  Warren pushed on the brakes and deftly pulled between two parked cars, continuing to the turnout leading onto the street. He glanced both ways before taking a left and pulling into traffic.

  He let out a breath, thinking that was close, but we’d made it out. Good thing he’d been ready to leave in a hurry. He glanced at me, noticing my hands braced against the dashboard. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure,” I answered, tucking my hands into my lap. I didn’t want him to see how shaky they were. “Where are we going?”

  “I’ve got to pick up the…item Manetto wants. Then I’ll take you to the airport.” He was thinking he would probably just drop me off somewhere and let me catch a cab. He’d paid for my cab fare to his house, so I should be good for it. Besides, Carson would probably be watching for his car at the airport, and taking a cab would be better for both of us.

  If he hadn’t thought that last part, I would have been mad at him. But his reasoning made sense, and I was more than happy to leave him behind. “So who’s this Carson person?” As soon as it was out of my mouth I realized he’d never said the guy’s name out loud. Damn! Why did I do that?

  Warren looked at me, his eyes round with horror. “How did you know? Did Manetto tell you? Does he know anything else?”

  “Manetto doesn’t know anything,” I assured him. “Earlier, you said something about Carson’s goons, and hoped they hadn’t spotted me or the yellow cab. I’m assuming that’s who was after us, and I was curious, but hey, you don’t have to tell me anything. I was just trying to start a conversation. That’s all.”

  He remembered thinking exactly that, but he could swear he’d never said it out loud. But he must have if I’d heard it. He’d better come up with something, as long as it wasn’t the truth. “He’s just some guy who thinks I owe him some money. No big deal.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  When I didn’t pursue it, Warren relaxed. He was thinking that Manetto never needed to know he had used the information he’d gathered for him to blackmail Carson himself. Although Carson had no idea how much information Warren really had on the thumb-drive, his threats were enough to put him on Carson’s hit list. With them watching, and me showing up, it had to have been the incentive they needed to take him out. Probably not the smartest thing he’d ever done, but he needed the cash to disappear. Too bad Carson had decided he wouldn’t take it anymore. With both Carson and Manetto on his tail, he couldn’t get out of town fast enough.

  I could hardly believe it. This guy was nuts. Trying to pull something over on Uncle Joey was bad enough, but using his information to blackmail someone else was even worse. Plus, from Warren’s thoughts, I knew this Carson person was all kinds of bad. I needed to get away from Warren as fast as I could. I didn’t care about the thumb-drive. It wasn’t worth my life.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I blurted. “Why don’t you just let me out, and I’ll take a cab to the airport. You can figure out how to get the…um…whatever it is Uncle Joey wants without me.”

  Warren’s brows drew together in confusion. Why was I changing my mind? “Wait. No, you have to help me.”

  “I’d really rather not,” I said. Warren wasn’t buying it, so I played my trump card. “Besides, I don’t think that’s what Uncle Joey had in mind when he had me deliver the letter. You don’t want to upset my Uncle now, do you?”

  “Um…of course not.” His face paled as he realized that I’d called Manetto my Uncle several times and he’d missed it. “But, please…don’t bail on me now. I promise…I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I sighed. He wasn’t making this any easier, and his desperation was heartfelt. He really needed me to do this. Argh! I hated being in this situation.

  “We’re almost there,” he continued, sensing that his pleas were getting to me. “All I need to do is get the thumb-drive and give it to you. It won’t take more than a minute. Then you can jump in a cab, and that will be the last you’ll see of me.”

  “Where is it? Where are we going?”

  “To a restaurant where I used to work. I hid the thumb-drive there. It’s about five minutes away. You can even wait in the car if you want.”

  “No,” I said forcefully. “I don’t want to wait in the car.”

  “That’s okay. You can come in. I’ll even buy you a drink and give you some money for the cab fare if that will help.”

  I let out a breath. “All right,” I said, exasperated. “I’ll do it, but you don’t have to buy me a drink, and I still have some money left over from the first cab fare, so I’m good.”

  He sighed, relieved that I’d agreed. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” He was thinking he’d do whatever it took to get me back to Manetto in one piece, mostly because he didn’t want Manetto to send Ramos after him. He knew how that would end. A picture of Ramos holding a gun to his head and slowly pulling the trigger came to his mind. He blinked, shaking his head to clear the vision, scared to even think about it.

  It scared me too, given how Warren had visualized Ramos. In his mind, Ramos stood at least seven feet tall, was big and bulky, and had a sneer on his face like a crazy person. I sure wouldn’t want to run into that vision of Ramos either. Strangely, something inside me settled down, and I didn’t feel so nervous anymore. It was like Ramos was here protecting me, even though he wasn’t. How crazy was that? Still, maybe this could work out after all.

  We pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant with the name “The Blue Heron” posted above the entrance. It was a few minutes before noon. Although the place wasn’t crowded, there were still several cars in the parking lot. Warren parked in a far corner, backing in for a quick get-away. I glanced up and down the street, but there wasn’t a taxi in sight, and I had no idea where I was.

  Warren started toward the restaurant, and I panicked. “Wait! I need my bag out of the trunk.”

  “Oh, yeah.” With his mind focused on the thumb-drive, he had forgotten about everything else. He popped open the trunk and glanced around, thinking this was dangerous because Carson’s people knew he still worked a few shifts here. Since they hadn’t caught him at his apartment, they might send someone here, so we had to hurry.

  Oh great! So he lied about that, and still worked here? This was worse than ever. Warren hurried inside, but I followed more slowly, wanting to keep some distance between us, especially if there was someone watching for him.

  I entered the restaurant and blinked into the dark interior until my eyes adjusted. Warren walked toward the back of the restaurant like he owned the place, so I waited at the hostess desk wishing I could disappear. The hostess approached with a smile, asking if I’d like to be seated and how many were in my party.

  “Just me,” I blurted, in self-preservation. “Could I sit at that table?” I pointed to a booth in the furthest, darkest corner there was. From there, I could also watch the door, and it was only a few feet from where Warren was talking in hushed tones with a waitress.

  “Um…sure.” She grabbed a menu and thought that I was probably meeting up with someone I shouldn’t, like I was cheating on my husband, mostly because I looked so nervous. I should have dressed nicer though, since a theme park t-shirt and jeans made me look like a tourist. Hmm…maybe that was the idea. She bet I wouldn’t order anything but a soda.

  What? I liked my t-shirt. It was white with cap sleeves, and
had brightly colored blue and green sequins on it in the shape of waves with dolphins jumping out. I didn’t think it was that touristy. Annoyed, I pursed my lips and slid into the corner of my booth, stuffing my big bag down by my feet.

  I took a moment to scan the thoughts of the few people here and relaxed. At least no one seemed to be paying any attention to Warren or me. As I focused on Warren’s thoughts, he noticed me sitting at the booth.

  With relief, he pointed the waitress in my direction, hoping to use me as a diversion while he got the thumb-drive out of the…cleaning supply closet? The waitress was not so easily deterred, and from her mind, I realized she was an old girlfriend who was seriously ticked off. Pointing me out only escalated her anger. How dare he bring another woman here?

  Good grief! I needed to get out of here and call a taxi. This was getting out of hand. Before I could slide out of the booth, a man with a stone-cold face stalked into the restaurant, and my stomach clenched with fear. This guy was pure muscle and sported snake tattoos on his biceps. He spotted Warren and frowned in confusion before putting together who he was without his beard and glasses.

  Warren noticed him and stiffened with alarm. Then he glanced my way before making the decision to leave me behind and run. He took off through the back, and the snake guy took off after him, passing me as he went. I picked up that he wasn’t alone, and I was afraid it might be the end of the line for Warren.

  If they caught him, would he tell them where the thumb-drive was? Should I try to get to it first? Before I could even think about it, another man entered the restaurant, scanning the people, and looking for a woman with long blond hair and a touristy white t-shirt. Yikes! That was me!

  I ducked under the table and held my breath. Listening intently, I realized he hadn’t seen me, and I sighed, clenching my eyes shut with relief. A few seconds later, I sensed him turning around and leaving to find the back exit. I peeked over the table, making sure the coast was clear, then slowly sat up on the seat.

  Had Warren gotten away? Were the men still outside? Should I make my escape while they were busy with Warren? I tried to get my legs under me and stand, but I couldn’t move; my muscles felt frozen to the seat.

  A sudden shriek sounded from the back of the restaurant, shocking me into action, and I ducked back under the table again.

  “Call nine-one-one!” a feminine voice yelled. “He’s been stabbed!”

  From her thoughts, I knew it was the waitress Warren had been talking to, and she was thinking that Warren was bleeding so bad he was going to die. I jumped up and pushed through the crowd to the kitchen. Warren was lying on his side in a pool of blood with a meat cleaver in his back.

  He glanced at me, moving his lips in a silent message. Even though I couldn’t hear him, I knew what he was trying to say. He was sorry for getting me into this mess, but that wasn’t the message he was intent on telling me. Before his eyes rolled back into his head, his blood-chilling message came through loud and clear. They think you have the thumb-drive.

  Chapter 2

  Stunned with shock, I hardly noticed the paramedics who pushed me aside to get to Warren. I watched them take his pulse before all that blood got to me, and I started to feel light-headed. I lurched out of the kitchen and back to my corner booth, sliding into the bench. I lowered my head onto the table and took a few deep breaths.

  The ringing in my ears slowly abated, and I began to hear the commotion around me. One voice stood out, and I realized it was Warren’s ex-girlfriend, explaining to someone that he’d come into the restaurant with me.

  That caught my attention, and I sat up. Glancing around the restaurant, I was chagrined to find it flooded with police. Crap! I should have left before they came. Now I had to talk to them, and I would have to make up something fast, because I certainly couldn’t tell them the truth.

  That stupid ex-girlfriend was ruining everything. A cop came over to my booth and took a seat across from me. He was thinking that I looked as white as a sheet, something he’d never imagined seeing in sunny Florida. He figured I was from out-of-town, and that made him a little suspicious.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I answered. Just then, the paramedics walked down the aisle carrying their equipment back to their vehicle. One of them was feeling bad that the guy had died, but there wasn’t much any of them could do about it. A meat cleaver that big, and hacking right into the liver…they’d done everything they could, but he didn’t stand a chance.

  A sudden wave of nausea passed over me and I closed my eyes. “Maybe not so much after all. Could I get a glass of water?” The cop nodded, hoping I wasn’t going to be sick all over the table, and left me alone.

  Grateful for the space, I concentrated on pulling myself together, but it was hard. Poor Warren was dead. I pretty much knew that already, but it was still a shock. Tears flooded my eyes, but I wiped them away. I needed to keep an emotional distance if I was ever going to figure out how to answer the questions from the police without arousing their suspicions about me and what I knew.

  That meant I needed to focus on the policeman’s thoughts so I could figure out what to say. In other words, I had to lie. I hated lying, especially to the police. It didn’t sit right, but if I wanted to go home, did I even have a choice?

  He came back before I was quite ready with a glass of ice water. I took several swallows and felt my nerves settle down a bit. The cop was going to ask about my relationship with Warren so I spoke before he could.

  “This guy came into the restaurant,” I explained. “He had tattoos of snakes on his biceps and his head was shaved. He walked right past me. He looked like he was after the guy who got hurt. Is he going to be all right?” I turned to look back toward the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Warren’s shoes behind the propped-open door.

  The cop frowned. If I didn’t know the victim, then what was the waitress talking about? “Um…I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  “Oh no! That’s awful!” I said. “I heard the commotion and ran back to see what was going on, but I get queasy at the sight of blood, so I came back here to sit down. So he’s really dead?”

  “Yeah,” the cop said. He was thinking that I obviously didn’t know the guy, and the waitress must have made a mistake. But why would she lie to him? Something was off. My description of the man with the snake tattoos fit what the others had seen, and if I could identify him it would be helpful. He’d make sure the detectives talked to me when they got there. Maybe they could figure out what was going on.

  “I need to ask you to wait and talk to the detectives who are coming to investigate. They’ll have a few questions for you, and then you can go home. Just don’t leave until you’ve talked to them. Okay?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “Anything I can do to help.” I was pretty sure if I seemed anxious to leave, he’d pick up on that. I also needed to let him believe that home wasn’t so far away, or I might not ever get out of here. I checked the time and cringed, twelve-forty and counting. I still had some leeway to make my flight, especially since I didn’t have to check a bag. I could still make it.

  The minutes ticked slowly by with no sign of the detectives and, try as I might, I couldn’t help thinking about Warren’s last words to me. His sudden death was a shock, but now I had to worry about the guys who’d killed him and the fact that they were after me. How had this happened? When had they seen me? Warren hadn’t even had a chance to retrieve the stupid thumb-drive, and now Carson, whoever he was, thought I had it? Could things get any worse?

  I considered looking for the cleaning closet to see if I could get the thumb-drive but decided that was a bad idea. It was safer in the closet than if I had it. Not only that, it was safer for me to leave it alone. Plus, someone might be watching me and wonder what I was doing. No, I just had to sit tight and try not to freak out.

  Ten long minutes later, two men in suits and ties walked into the restaurant. They talked to the policemen and examined the body,
which was still lying on the floor of the kitchen. Just thinking about Warren lying dead a few feet away was giving me the willies, and I tried not to listen to the Detectives’ thoughts about how he died. They made his death sound so clinical, like he wasn’t even a person. I sniffed, feeling bad all over again, and wished I could just go home.

  More cops entered the restaurant, taking pictures and documenting the crime scene. I was grateful to be out of the way in my booth. The detectives came out of the kitchen and started making the rounds of talking to all of the witnesses. I hoped they’d talk to me before the ex-girlfriend, but she butted in like she was the most important person there. Great. I kept my face averted and tried to ignore her as she pointed them in my direction. I glanced up as they came to my table.

  “I’m Detective Fitch, and this is Detective Castro. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” Fitch was clearly in charge and had the gray-streaked hair and fine lines in his face to show he’d been on the force for a long time. Castro was younger and was thinking this was his first case with Fitch. He was excited to learn from the best.

  “Sure,” I agreed, hoping I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt. If Fitch was that good, I might be in trouble.

  They slid into the booth across from me, each studying me in their own way. Fitch immediately concluded that I was involved, mostly because I looked spooked and panicked, a sure sign that I knew what was going on.

  My heart rate doubled. This was bad.

  “How long have you known the victim?” he asked.