Marked for Murder Read online

  Since he was full of remorse, I figured now was a good time to grill him. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you after you ran off yesterday.”

  He grimaced and ducked his head. “I know, sorry about that.” We reached the exit, and he held the door open for me. “I’ll give Billie a call and get to work on Claire’s case, but I should head back to the office now.”

  “Sure, but first you need to tell me what’s going on with Chris. Did you set him up?”

  He swallowed, thinking that waking up in the middle of the night with a hitman standing beside his bed had scared the crap out of him. Did I have something to do with that? “You don’t need to worry. I’m taking care of it.”

  He glanced down the street, wanting to get away from me. Yesterday had freaked him out. I knew stuff I shouldn’t, and he didn’t want to be around me more than he needed to. “I’ll tell you about it sometime, but not right now. Okay?”

  “So you’re not going through with it? Chris isn’t in danger?”

  “No.” It would cost him, but he didn’t have much of a choice now. He’d just have to pick up the pieces afterward.

  “Okay. Thanks Ethan.” As he scurried away, relief washed over me. I guess Ramos had gone back and done what he did best. Watching Ethan’s hunched shoulders sent a pang of remorse over me. I didn’t like intimidating him. But, on the other hand, I didn’t want Chris in trouble either.

  At least I didn’t have to worry about that anymore, and Ethan was mostly telling the truth. He was taking care of the threat, but it wasn’t a done deal. I picked up that by refusing to do Strickland’s bidding, he might make someone else unhappy, but since they went way back, he hoped they’d get over it. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I guess I’d find out soon enough.

  Walking back to the precinct, I put a call through to Billie and gave her the good news about Claire’s release. “I’m not sure what time she’ll get out, but I’m headed that way, so I’ll see if they have an estimated release time. It might be nice if you could talk to her for your article before you wrap it up. And I gave Ethan your number, so he should be calling you.”

  “Okay,” she said, then blew out a breath. “I wish that solved my problem, but now I’m having trouble finishing the story. I mean… how do I end it before we have the test results from her relatives that prove my assertion that she’s her own twin?”

  “I see what you mean,” I agreed. “But since your article is a series, can’t you put this part of it on hold until you get back? I’ll bet Michael will be good with it, especially when you tell him your findings. I mean… being your own twin is kind of crazy. Do you think he’ll believe it?”

  “Well… he’ll definitely want proof of chimerism, which I won’t get until the DNA test results come back. Since we haven’t even figured that out yet, I’ll probably be back from my honeymoon by then. I’ll talk to Michael and give him a heads up. I’ll just have to make sure Claire and her family get the testing done as soon as possible, so the results will be back by the time I get home.”

  “That should work out. I’ll find out when Claire will be released and let you know.” We said our goodbyes and disconnected.

  At the precinct, I took the stairs to the holding cells and asked the holding officer when he thought Claire would be back from her arraignment. “They’re supposed to release her today.”

  “It’ll be later this afternoon because they have to process her out,” the officer said. “Why don’t I tell her to call you?”

  “Sure. Here’s my number in case she needs it.”

  He took my business card and clipped it to Claire’s file. He lifted his gaze to mine, thinking about the rumors that I was a psychic. He’d heard all about my quick thinking in disarming the shooter yesterday, especially since he’d had to deal with the woman. She’d ranted and raved like a crazy person, and he was grateful she’d gone into a psych unit after that.

  “So she’s not here? The crazy person?”

  His eyes widened. “No. Not anymore.”

  “That’s good… I mean… I think she could use some medication.”

  “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  “Well. I’ve got to go. Thanks for your help.”

  He nodded, and I picked up that I made him nervous, so I sent him a quick wave and hurried out the door. Heading upstairs, I decided to see if Dimples was around. It would be nice to know what he thought about my sudden notoriety.

  He sat at his desk, finishing up some paperwork. I caught his thoughts about getting done before the big day. With the big push for Billie to get her article finished before the wedding, he worried that she’d be too busy to take care of all the last-minute details. She might even consider postponing the wedding if the article wasn’t completed in time. She wouldn’t do that, would she?

  “She won’t,” I said, sitting beside him.

  He jerked and swore a blue streak in his mind. Then his eyes widened, knowing I’d heard that too. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Sorry,” I said, a big grin on my face. “But at least you know you don’t need to worry about Billie blowing you off, right?” He shook his head and let out an exasperated breath, so I changed the subject. “Did you see today’s paper?” At his nod, I continued, “What do you think about the article?”

  “Looks like you made it on the front page.” He was thinking that I probably hated it. “But it was nice. It gave you the credit you deserve, and I liked the picture.” He grinned, and his dimples did that little dance that always lightened my mood. “Take a look at your desk. The chief got you a computer.”

  I glanced at my new desk in the back corner. It finally fit in with the rest of the desks in the room now that it had a monitor and keyboard. There was also a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting beside the monitor. “Wow. Nice.”

  “Yeah. After the shooting went down yesterday, I think he was really impressed with your “hero” status. He wanted me to show you how to set up your own account, which will give you access to the police database. That should come in handy, right?” He was thinking that was a real concession on the chief’s part, especially since I hadn’t even asked for it.

  “Yeah, for sure. If it got me a computer, I guess it was worth it. Did he get me the flowers too?”

  “Uh… no I don’t think so. They were delivered this morning. Why don’t you open the card and find out who sent them?”

  We both stepped to my desk and I reached for the card. Pulling the envelope open, I read, “To Shelby, Thanks for your service. From: A Secret Admirer.”

  “What does it say?” Dimples asked. I handed him the card. “Hmm… looks like you caught someone’s attention.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I got another one yesterday. At home. It basically said the same thing. Do you think they’re from the same person?”

  His brows drew together. “I wouldn’t think so.” He looked at the card. “You could check with the florist. It looks like it’s from Brown Floral.” He handed the card back. “They’ll have records, so it should be easy to find.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it.” Glancing at the card, I realized there was a shop nearby. “I’ll check it out on the way home.” That helped settle my stomach. If both arrangements were from the same person, I could make sure they weren’t some whack job, and politely tell them thanks, but enough was enough. It also didn’t hurt to know I had a hitman at my disposal to back me up. It had worked pretty well on Ethan.

  Dimples nodded, thinking it might not be a good thing to get so much attention about my psychic abilities. Too bad I hadn’t told them I’d seen the gun, instead of saying I had premonitions. Then he thought about Manetto and hoped I wasn’t in trouble with him. He raised a brow. Was I?

  I frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, not believing me for a minute. “You’d tell me if he threatened you, right?” Dimples knew I worked for Uncle Joey. So far, Dimples hadn’t been successful in getting me to turn on Uncle Joey
, but he still held out hope that I’d come to him if I ever changed my mind. Needless to say, it was a sore spot between us.

  “Did Billie tell you about her article?”

  He knew I was changing the subject, but he let it go for now. “She said she had a good lead. Did she find out more?”

  “Yes. It’s really interesting.” I explained her findings and asked, “Do you think someone can really be their own twin?”

  “I guess it’s possible. We’ll see if that’s what it really is when they’re tested, but right now, Billie needs to finish up so we can get married.”

  “I just talked to her. I think she’s resigned to completing the series once you get back from your honeymoon.”

  “Oh good.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m working until Thursday and taking Friday off because that’s when most of the family is flying in.” He licked his lips. “It’s hard to believe we’re getting married this week. I hope I’m ready.” He was thinking how everything in his life was about to change.

  “You’ll definitely have to make some adjustments,” I said. “But it will be worth it. Billie’s great.”

  “Yeah, she is.” Dimples knew she could be a handful, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Hey Harris,” Detective Bates called. “You still coming with me?”

  Dimples checked his watch, noting it was almost eleven, and stood. “Sorry I’ve got to go. We have to talk to an inmate out at the prison. Hey, do you want to come? It might make my job easier.”

  “Did you say it’s almost eleven?” I jumped to my feet, grateful for an excuse not to go. “I’ve got an appointment.” I took a few steps before turning to wave at him. “I’ll get the flowers later. Have fun!”

  “Yeah right.”

  I gave him a big smile and hurried to my car. Since John Brown’s office was close to the city center mall, I drove there, parking underground, and took the escalator up to the plaza.

  The Randolph Tower stood on the northeast corner of the property, and I made it inside the sliding doors right at eleven o’clock sharp. A few ladders and plastic tarps were hanging throughout the lobby. Men in white coveralls, with all kinds of tools dangling from their utility belts, worked behind them.

  I took the elevator to the top floor, exiting to find more evidence of construction work. Panels of stacked sheetrock lined one side of the hallway, and several open offices held sheets of plastic to keep the dust from spreading.

  I checked my phone for the office number, grateful to see it was on the other end of the building away from the workers. At the end of the hall, I spotted the door with the right number on it, but nothing else to say who it belonged to.

  A chill of unease ran down my spine, and I slowed my step. What was going on? Looking at my phone, I checked the office number one more time. This was it, but there was no sign of people anywhere. Not even the construction workers. This whole floor was empty.

  I stepped to the door and reached for the knob, only to find the door slightly ajar. It squeaked open with the pressure of my hand. I stood on the threshold and peered inside the room.

  Amid the clutter of renovations, the open space was empty except for a desk that sat in the center of the room. A piece of paper lay on top, and I stepped closer to see what it said. Seeing the letters of my name at the top of the page, I immediately picked it up to read.

  Shelby, I see you made it to my office. So sorry I couldn’t be there. Now you’ve left me to wonder why you didn’t already know that. I think someone with real premonitions would have known. I’m not sure what you’re playing at, but I’m more intrigued than ever. In fact, I have a proposition for you. Please meet me at the food court in the plaza. I’ll be sitting at an outside table reading a newspaper and enjoying the sunshine. I’ll explain everything then. Yours, John Brown.

  What the freak? Was this just an elaborate ruse to test me? I glanced around the room, hoping to spot anything that would tell me more about him. But, besides the desk, the place was completely empty.

  A window faced the food court, so I stepped beside it and moved the plastic to take a look. From here, the people were too far away to see clearly, but I thought I could make out a man sitting at a table reading a newspaper. Was that him?

  With growing trepidation, I carefully stuffed the note into my purse. If nothing else, at least it was evidence that he’d contacted me. But why was he playing this little game of cat and mouse? To answer that, I needed a face-to-face with him. I’d know immediately what he was up to, and what I needed to do to put an end to his shenanigans. Using determination to quiet my fear, I hurried out of the office to confront him.

  After taking the elevator to the main floor, I made my way out of the building and to the food court. There were several tables spread around the plaza. I glanced toward the area I’d seen from the office above, looking for the table with a single male occupant reading a newspaper.

  Finding it, I headed in that direction, keeping my mind wide open. The man sitting there held the newspaper in front of him, so I couldn’t see his face. With his attention on the written words, I didn’t have a chance to find out what he was thinking.

  Dammit! Now what? Steeling my resolve, I walked toward the table, hoping he’d look up so I’d catch something in his mind. It wasn’t until I reached his table and slid into the seat across from him that I caught his attention.

  His surprised gaze found mine, and he immediately lowered his paper. “Hi,” he said. “Do I know you?”

  The voice was different from the one on the phone, and I picked up that he didn’t have a clue who I was. My brows dipped together in confusion. “Uh… are you John Brown?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Just then, a girl carrying a tray of food set it down in front of me. “Are you Shelby?” At my confused nod, she continued. “Great. Here’s your order.” She turned to leave, but I stopped her.

  “Wait. I didn’t order this.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. Your boss was here earlier, and he ordered it for you.”

  “What did he say?”

  She shrugged. “He said something about you never eating properly… and he wanted to surprise you with something good.”

  A chill ran down my spine, but I tried to smile at her. “Oh… uh… thanks.”

  She smiled. “Sure. Have a nice day.”

  I glanced at the man across from me. “I guess you didn’t order this?”

  He let out a huff, thinking that was a dumb question. “No. Didn’t she say it was from your boss?”

  “Yes… of course.” What was going on? Why was I sitting across from this guy who had nothing to do with me? Was this some kind of joke? “How long have you been sitting here?”

  He checked his watch. “About ten minutes.”

  “Did you notice anyone else sitting here at this table before you?”

  “No,” he said, a little exasperated that I kept interrupting him. Straightening in his chair, he continued, “If you’re waiting for someone, I can move somewhere else.”

  “Oh… no. You’re fine. I guess he left.”

  The man thought I was talking about my boss, so he cut me some slack. “Well… at least he ordered your lunch.”

  “That’s right,” I agreed, trying to sound normal. “But it wasn’t my boss I was meeting, it was someone else.” The tray held a delicious-looking turkey croissant sandwich with fries and a soda that said ‘diet’ on it. Besides the napkin, there wasn’t a note, or anything else on the tray. “I wish he would have let me know.”

  “Maybe he had to leave in a hurry.”

  I nodded, but couldn’t push away the feeling that this was another test of some kind.

  “I’m Jerry, by the way. Jerry Mortensen.” He held out his hand.

  I shook it and responded. “Shelby Nichols.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, smiling. Then his eyes widened, and he turned the paper back to the front page. His gaze went back and forth from me to the photo a few times
. “That’s you.”

  “Uh… yeah,” I admitted.

  “You’re a bona-fide hero. So do you really have premonitions like it says?”

  “It doesn’t look that way. I mean, the person I was supposed to meet didn’t show up, and I had no idea, right?”

  He chuckled. “You make a good point.” He wondered what was going on. For someone with premonitions, it didn’t make sense. And why did I join him at this table? Did he look like the person I was supposed to meet? Or was this just a random encounter?

  That caught my attention. Did John Brown set this all up for me to meet Jerry Mortensen? Why would he do that? This was starting to freak me out.

  “Are you going to eat that?” he asked, eyeing my sandwich.

  Even though the food looked amazing, I’d lost my appetite. “No. You can have it if you want. I think I’ll take the Diet Coke though.” I took the drink and pushed the tray toward him.

  “You sure?”

  I nodded. “Please, help yourself.”

  He picked up the sandwich and took a bite, happy to eat it, but feeling a twinge of guilt that it wasn’t his. Maybe he should have tried to talk me into it a little harder, especially since my boss thought I never ate right.

  “Do you come here often?” I asked.

  He swallowed his bite and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Yeah. I come out here most every day to read the paper. It’s nice to be outside, and the courtyard is beautiful.”

  “Yeah, it is. Do you work around here?”

  “Oh no. I’m retired.” He smiled, flattered that I thought he looked young enough to still be working. “I bought into one of the new condos above the mall.” He pointed to the building above us that held elegant, high-class apartment condos.

  I’d always wondered what they looked like inside. “Nice. Do you like it?”

  “I do. It’s great to be living downtown. Everything I need is within walking distance. I don’t have yard work or house maintenance to take care of, so I love it here.”