Jess found a spot to park along the curb outside the six-story building, but before she got out, her cell rang. Her phone display gave no caller ID, but that didn’t stop her from hoping she knew who was on the line.
“Yeah, Beckett here.”
“Hey, it’s me.” Harper’s voice sounded distant. “I don’t suppose you’d agree to the Vulcan mind meld to forget what happened.”
“I’m not sure I want Leonard Nimoy messing with my head, Harper. I’m screwed up enough.” Like Seth, she resorted to humor to broach the subject, but before she could tell him how she really felt, he interrupted her.
“If you can forget it ever happened, I’m okay with that,” he said. “Irrational behavior is part of an insanity plea I’m building.”
When Humphries had reminded her that Seth wasn’t as young as she thought, the notion had surprised her. She’d always thought of him as a kid, probably because the harsh life she led had hardened her beyond her years. And Harper struck her as a naïve kid trying to find his way.
He had an open innocence to everything he did. Seeing him in this new light—as a man—had taken her off guard.
“I’m not sure I want to forget it happened, but we do have other things to worry about.”
“Yeah, I know the cops are looking for me again. What they’re saying…it isn’t true, Jessie.”
His frustration came through over the phone, despite the loud traffic noise in the background on his end.
“You didn’t have to tell me that, Harper.” She plugged an ear to hear him better. “Where are you?”
“I haven’t landed yet.” His polite way of saying he had no intention of putting her in the middle with the cops. “And I’m on my own this time. I won’t drag Tony Salvatore into the shambles of my life. Man, how did things get so screwed up?”
“I don’t know, Harper, but I’m gonna find out. You have an alibi for when the hooker got beat up?” She gave him the time she’d gotten from Sam.
“With the way my luck has been going, what do you think? And I’m too stupid to lie.”
Too honest, she thought.
But Jess had to give Harper strokes for more than just honesty. This time he hadn’t pulled his usual vanishing act in stealth mode. He’d reached out to call her. But she had a sickening feeling this would be the last time she’d hear his voice. If he’d severed his tight link to Salvatore, it wouldn’t take much for him to shut her out.
Jess closed her eyes to imagine him standing in front of her now, to help her focus on his words—but picturing him wasn’t enough. Knowing Harper, he had a throwaway phone, and he had probably made arrangements to bury himself deep. If she had any lifeline to him, the rope was fraying.
She had failed him. That was all she knew. And failing the son of Max Jenkins—the man who had sacrificed so much to rescue her—was unacceptable.
“No one ever tells you how important it is to eat black-eyed peas at New Year’s,” he said. “Now my luck is for shit.”
“Yeah, and being framed for murder really blows, but this isn’t over.”
“Come on, Jess. I think it’s time to cut your losses. The odds of me getting out of this are slim to none.” He sighed. “I’m not running away, but I just can’t sit in jail.”
“I completely understand, Harper. And I commend you for thinking outside the box, but the cops aren’t likely to embrace your exile strategy—especially if you have room service and cable. Your taste in upscale digs would piss them off.”
“You think they’d go for it if I stayed at Motel 6?” The old Harper she knew and loved rose to the occasion—black humor and all—but he didn’t stay long.
“I can’t do this, Jess.” Fear edged his voice. “And if they lock me away and someone finds out I’m a cop’s son, what do you think will happen? Hell, maybe I’ve seen too many prison movies.”
He tried to laugh but failed miserably. It only made her sad.
“Oh man, I have enough trouble sleeping,” she admitted, fighting back tears and a fierce lump in her throat. “But Seth, you’re only making things worse. If the cops find you…”
“That’s my new job, Jess”—his voice sounded far off, like he’d turned his head away from the receiver—“making sure they don’t.”
“That isn’t a solution.”
“I know, but it’s all I’ve got,” he said.
Silence. She knew he’d said everything he had intended. Dial tone would be next.
“What about your father, Seth? If you leave, what will happen to him?” Desperation left her grasping at straws, even if it meant hurting him to do it. She hated trumping him with the father card, but she had nothing else.
“Low blow, Jess.” He sighed. “With me in jail, all he’s got is Tony Salvatore anyway, but good try.” An awkward silence reminded her how fragile their connection had always been. “Have a nice life, Jessie. I think my dad would have been proud how you turned out. I know I am.”
Harper didn’t wait for her reply. With a catch in his voice, he ended the call, leaving her wallowing in dial tone.
“Damn it.”
Someone was determined to frame Harper. And to cover their tracks, they’d taken a second shot at it, adding an assault charge for good measure. Yet Jess knew from experience that if the boy didn’t want to be found, he could shape-shift into a damned ghost—for real. But that wouldn’t fix the hole left in her life where he’d been.
Jess had to turn things around with a new game plan. Up until now, the real killer had dictated the action. The coward! She’d been reacting—shoring up Harper’s defenses—but that hadn’t worked. Jess needed results, and there was only one way to meet that challenge.
Head-on!
She had to stir things up, even if it meant becoming a target for a killer. And, unfortunately for her, she knew exactly where to start.
CHAPTER 16
South Side of Chicago
1:10 A.M.
Hookers don’t get workman’s comp. And forget about sick days, not even in Nevada, where prostitution is legal. Being an independent contractor herself—of a different sort—Jess knew all about operating without benefits.
So she had a pretty good notion where to find Jade.
And if the woman had known Mandy, she figured chances were that they traveled in the same circles. She didn’t have to start from scratch to track her down. It was a theory—one that had paid off. And she didn’t have to shell out much coin to score Jade’s favorite spots. Even if someone hadn’t given her a usable description, she recognized Jade by her fresh stitches and distinctive limp in stilettos as Jess drove by her on the street.
Finding a spot under the pale glow of blue and red neon, the woman lit up a cigarette with her back to the wall of Phat Jack’s. Next to the lounge was a dark alley, probably the closest thing a streetwalker had to an office. Jade wasn’t working it hard, judging by her slouch and lack of interest in the few men who came out of the bar.
Jess parked the blue van down the street and approached Jade on foot, keeping her hand near the butt of the Colt Python, which she wore under a jeans jacket. When she got close, she heaped on the familiar and added a dash of honey to her voice.
“Well…what happened to you?” She smiled as if she were an old friend, but Jade gave her the stink eye, clearly not in the mood.
“None of yo’ business. Now get outta my face.” The woman flipped a hand—flashing an insane set of long red nails—and turned her shoulder like that would discourage her. Who was she kidding?