Jake had thrown her a police radio. What was she supposed to do with that?
A sound. Damn. Her phone. She put down the radio, hit the green button on her cell. Was it Jake? It couldn’t be. She looked out the window, crouching below the sill, just in case, so she couldn’t be seen.
“Jane. Tuck. Sorry about the delay. We had to get my car. We’re almost there. Almost at the Brannigan. Wait for us, okay? Lots to tell.”
“Tuck-wait-don’t-”
“We’re in traffic, kiddo. Gotta go. See you in five. Maybe sooner.”
She hung up. Tuck. She’d call her back. Stop her.
Out the window. Nothing. Damn the trees.
She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. She was terrified, trapped. And had no idea who the good guys were.
One chance. And it was now. He was behind a bush. Five steps away.
“DeLuca!” Jake aimed at Munson, fired.
Missed.
A gunshot. It was. Jane peered over the windowsill. Could not see a thing. Tears came to her eyes. Jake.
Munson turned, fired back.
DeLuca grabbed Ardith, twisting her away, yanked her into cover behind the car.
“Down!”
“No!” she cried.
Jake flattened himself against the wet grass, fired again.
Munson clutched his leg. Screamed. Fell to the concrete.
Jake flew the five steps to the parking lot, kicked Munson’s weapon away from him.
It skittered across the parking lot, spiraling over the snow-slicked pavement.
Jake jabbed a knee into the middle of Munson’s back, grabbed one hand, then the other. Clamped them together with the same handcuffs he’d worn minutes earlier. He hoped the concrete was hard and cold and wet and filthy.
“You okay, D?” Jake called. “Collins Munson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Lillian Finch.”
“Now I am.” DeLuca brushed the grit from his legs as he ushered Ardith upright from her cover. He took out his own cuffs and pulled Ardith Brannigan’s hands behind her back. “Ardith Brannigan, you’re under arrest as an accessory to murder.”
“But I didn’t-he only-I never-it was his idea to kill her,” Ardith sputtered, twisting against the restraints. “Lillian had discovered the footprints. She was about to-”
“Shut up, Ardith,” Munson’s voice came from beneath Jake.
“Such a happy couple,” DeLuca said.
“We’d be pleased to hear your story, Mrs. Brannigan. Might cut a decade or so off your sentence.” Jake couldn’t help but adjust his knee. Munson cursed, his cheek crushed against the pavement. “Oh sorry, Munson.”
He thought about yanking Munson to his feet, then heard the sirens. Fine. He could stay like this for two minutes more. About time Jake had the upper hand. “You have the right to remain silent…”
It was the most fun he’d had all day. The sirens drew closer as he finished the Miranda.
“Hear that?” Jake said. “Say your good-byes. You two are done.”
“This is going be some freakin’ police report,” DeLuca said. “Jake, how’d you get-?”
“Long story,” Jake said.
80
“You sure you’re okay? Both of you?”
Jane handed DeLuca his radio, and looked Jake up and down in the Brannigan parking lot. A squadron of cop cars had swooped in, sirens wailing. Jake explained that Ardith Brannigan was on her way downtown and Collins Munson en route to a hospital.
Funny that the sky was so blue. Funny that the cold sun was glowing in the winter sky. Funny that a couple of sparrows flittered into the warmth of the evergreens. Like nothing bizarre had happened. Jane looped her arm through Jake’s, ignoring DeLuca’s knowing smile. He was a pal. She couldn’t believe she’d suspected him, even briefly.
“Our Jake here’s the hero of the day, Jane,” DeLuca said. “I’m fine. The good news? I heard Ardith Brannigan start talking the moment she hit the backseat of the cruiser. Her lawyer’s gonna be pissed, but that’s not our problem. Apparently Lillian Finch discovered some footprint scheme Munson was using to-” He shook his head. “Must have been a big deal. Anyway, I’ll give you two a moment. I’m going inside to make the necessary phone calls.”
“Kat,” Jake said.
DeLuca looked at the pavement, then nodded. “Yeah. And then I’ll inform the Supe you’re on your way to fill him in on what happened.”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Jane almost stamped her foot in impatience as D walked away. “Ardith talked about footprints?”
Jake gave her arm a squeeze, then stepped away from her. “Jane? What do you know about them? That’s the question.”
“Remember the fire?” Jane said.
Jake rolled his eyes. Jane always had to tell every detail. There was no such thing as long-story-short with her. He loved her for it.
“Okay, fine. You remember. Anyway, Ella gave me a piece of paper, apparently one of the things she found in Lillian Finch’s house before-” She paused. “Okay, fine, fast forward. It’s a footprint. They were-”
“They?” Jake said.
“You want me to tell you this?”
Jake shrugged. Her ears were turning red and her hair was tousled and she’d run out without gloves. He wished he could grab her hands, grab all of her. Maybe he was simply feeling relieved. And alive. “Sorry.”
“Anyway, someone-now I guess it was Munson, or Ardith and Munson-was taking the footprints, the baby footprints, out of adoption files,” Jane said. “I can’t figure out why, except that’s the only thing in the documents that would absolutely clinch the identities of the children. Chief Monahan told me Ella was trying to carry out a pile of documents, but they all burned in the fire. Except this one.”
She zipped open her tote bag.
And stopped, mid-zip. Jane looked up as she heard the beep-beep of a car’s horn, the crunch of tires on the salted pavement. A black SUV rounded the corner into the parking lot.
“What now?” Jake’s hand hovered over his gun.
“Don’t worry.” Jane knew that car.
“Huh?” Jake said.
“It’s Tuck,” Jane said. “She’s how this whole thing started. Anyway. Look at this paper.”
Baby Girl Beerman. Jake read the typed description on the creased and wrinkled paper Jane handed him. It smelled like fire. A tiny baby footprint, impossibly small. So what?
He looked up as Tuck slammed the car door. A woman he didn’t recognize was getting out of the passenger seat.
“Hey, comrades,” Tuck called. “What’re you all doing here?
By the time Jane neared the end of the story, her hands were frozen and her ears would never be the same. She tried to tell the whole story, fast as she could, since they were still out in the parking lot.
“So if this is your footprint, Tuck,” Jane said, “you really are baby girl Beerman. If it isn’t-well, that’s why we came to see you, Carlyn.”
She handed the paper to Tuck and Carlyn. They examined it together, shoulders touching. Judging by their expressions, the two women didn’t seem to understand.
“Get what I’m saying?” Jane said. “If this footprint doesn’t match, that proves Tuck is the wrong girl.”
“The wrong girl?” After hearing Jane’s explanation, Jake worried about fingerprints on the document, about Ella Gavin’s potential testimony, about the documents destroyed in the fire, and how to link it all to their growing case against Munson and possibly Ardith Brannigan. Was it fraud? Deception? The wrong girl?