"Goddamn it, Kate." Glaring at her through the windshield, he slammed a hand down on her hood in frustration as she started the ignition. Then, as she put the transmission into drive, he got out of the way.
Smart man.
He followed her all the way to the Perrys'. Which was fine. By the time she reached Ben's babysitter's, she had a plan. She was going to take Ben and run.
She didn't know exactly who those goons in the SUV were. What she did know was they scared her. Worse than Mario ever had. Because she didn't think they were street punks. There was a deadlier, more organized, more polished feel to them. Like they were professionals. Like they were Mob.
Were the Black Dragons associated with the Mob? Who the hell knew? Who the hell cared? A few days from now, it wasn't going to matter to her anymore.
Because this was too big and too dangerous for her to deal with. Taking on Mario was one thing. Taking on a group like this—she knew as well as she knew her name that she couldn't win. She knew how these people worked from bitter experience. She would end up doing their bidding forevermore, or she would end up dead. It was as simple and as terrible as that.
She and Ben couldn't go tonight, because she didn't have any money except the few dollars stuffed in her pocket. If they were going to head for California—or maybe Oregon or Washington, somewhere as far away as she could get—she needed every dime she could scrape together. All that was in her bank account was her most recent paycheck. Could she afford to wait for another one? The more she could get together, the better off they would be, but the problem was, she didn't know how much time she had.
The creeps in the car wanted a "favor." But she had no idea what the favor was, or when they would cash it in.
Waiting around to find out was probably not a good idea.
She could clean out her 401(k), which had maybe a thousand dollars in it. There were things she could pawn. Her wedding ring, which she never wore but kept carefully to give to Ben one day. A video camera. Probably other things if she looked around. Getting money that way was quick and easy—she'd done it plenty of times before. It wouldn't be a lot, but added to her paycheck, it would have to do, because she didn't think she could take more than a week max to get ready. At least the money would get them a place to stay for a month or so, and she could waitress if necessary until she could find another job.
Just thinking of leaving behind everything she had worked so hard for made her sick. The house, the furniture—she was going to have to abandon it all, except for what she could carry in her car. Backing a U-Haul up to the door and loading it up with all their things would not, she was sure, be wise. Because they might be watching her.
The thought made her heart start tap-dancing in her chest.
She had things going on at work, too. Hearings. Depositions. Trials. The idea of just walking out on them was staggering. But there just wasn't any other way that she could see to keep herself and Ben safe.
At this point, if they left, she didn't think the goons would come looking for them. She was no threat to them, not like she had been to Mario. If she lit out now, before she got in any deeper, she didn't see any reason why they wouldn't just let her go.
So that was the plan.
Even if every time she thought about it she felt like she was bleeding to death inside.
It was hard putting on a happy face for the Perrys, for Ben, apologizing for being late and pretending all was well and things were going to go on this way forever, world without end. As quickly as she could get things together, they would be gone.
Ben would be sad.
She would be sad.
But what choice did she have?
"Are you okay, Mom?" Ben asked, as they pulled into the driveway. Tonight she was using the garage, and to hell with any bad karma from Mario's ghost, because she wanted to load a few things in the car to pawn tomorrow, and she didn't want to go outside to do it. It was far-fetched, she knew, to think that the goons might be watching her twenty-four-seven, but still...
Pressing the button for the garage door—God, she was even going to miss the damned glacier-slow door—she looked over at Ben.
"I'm fine. Why?"
"Because I told you I made a basket in gym, and all you said was
mm-hmm."
"You made a basket?
Wow."
Despite everything, Kate's face lit up. For the first time since she had picked him up, she really focused on her son. He nodded and grinned at her.
"It was a fluke, though. I just kind of threw it up there and it hit the edge of the backboard and rolled in."
"That works. What did the rest of—?" The door was up, and she was just getting ready to pull forward when Ben interrupted her.
"I got to go tell Tom." Grabbing the door handle, he opened the door and burst out of the car like a mini-explosion.
Looking in the rearview mirror, Kate saw that the Taurus was pulling in behind her.
C h a p t e r 28
KATE DROVE ON INTO the garage and parked. As she got out, she saw that Tom had parked in the driveway. He was standing beside his car, and Ben, practically vibrating with excitement, was standing in front of him, no doubt telling him all about the basket he'd made.
Tom was smiling down at Ben.
Kate's heart clenched. Her stomach turned over.
The hardest thing about leaving was going to be Tom.
As much as she knew that getting involved with him had been an error, as surely as she knew that ending it was the only possible course of action she could take, leaving Tom behind when she ran was going to hurt like nothing she had ever felt.
Gritting her teeth, she walked toward the pair of them.
"Sweetie, why don't you run on in?" she said to Ben when she reached them. Tom looked at her over Ben's head. His smile was gone. The drive had apparently cooled his temper, because he was no longer obviously seething. But there was a glint in his eyes as he met her gaze that told her the underlying anger was still there.
"You want to talk to Tom, huh?" Speculation was plain in Ben's face as he glanced from one to the other of them.
So much for trying to keep stuff from Ben.
"Yeah, I do. So would you please get out of here?"
He made a face at her, glanced at Tom, who responded with a sympathetic grimace, and then obediently headed through the garage for the house.
"You can go ahead and get started on your homework," Kate called after him out of habit. Although, of course, (a) he wasn't going to, and (b) homework for this school didn't really matter anymore, in a week or two, he would be starting over somewhere new.
"I want you to leave," Kate said without preamble when Ben disappeared inside the house. "We took a chance, we had fun, but it's over."
Tom leaned a hip against the side of his car and looked at her consideringly. The light from the garage was behind her, which kept her face in shadow. His she could see. His expression was grim.
"Look, I know you're lying to me. I know you've been lying to me from the first. I admit, I don't quite have a handle on what you're hiding, but I will figure it out, unless you want to make this easier on both of us and just tell me."
Okay, at least his bulldoglike tenacity was making this less painful than it could have been for her.
She turned away. "Good-bye, Tom."
"They're professional hits, Kate. The two guys in the U-Haul, and Castellanos in your garage. I'm willing to stake my badge on it. What's scaring the life out of me here is the thought that you could be next. Think about it: Everybody we know of who was in any way involved in that escape attempt is now dead—except you."
That stopped her in her tracks. She closed her eyes for an instant— her back was to him so he couldn't see—as an icy finger of fear ran down her spine. Her hands clenched into fists. What if the guys in the SUV came back, only this time with murder in mind? What if they weren't the only ones out there? The possibilities were endless—and terrifying.
"I keep telling you, I wasn't involved in it." But she turned back to face him. Her heart was racing. She had to force herself to breathe normally.
"And I take your word for that." He straightened away from the car. His eyes were intent on her face. "You don't want to continue our personal relationship? That's fine. Not a problem. Consider it over. But I don't like the idea of you and Ben being alone here at night. Even with the new locks and the alarm system, you're too easy a target. All somebody has to do is kick in the door, pump off a few bullets, and get out before the cops show up. Piece of cake, especially for a professional."
Kate felt her throat dry up. She had never thought of it that way before. She wished she wasn't thinking of it that way now.
"If you go telling everyone down at the PPD your personal theory of what happened in the security corridor, I won't have to worry about it, will I? According to you, I'll be in jail."
His face tightened. "I'm not planning on telling anybody just yet. Except for me and Fish, you're not on anyone's radar screen yet. What I've got so far is exactly what you said—theory, but no proof."
Kate understood what he was telling her: Despite what he'd said earlier, he was going to keep what he knew, and what he suspected, to himself.
For now, at least.
"Okay, fine, you can stay." Her tone was less than gracious. A moment later she added, almost gruffly, "Thank you."
And she wasn't just talking about his offer to stay the night.
His eyes were dark and unreadable as they met hers. "You're welcome."
Turning away again, she headed for the house. Having him stay over until she could get things together and take off with Ben was only smart. As many unknowns as there were in this, it just might keep them alive.
But at the same time it was going to be hard on her heart.
Tom followed her in without another word.
Two days later, Kate acknowledged the truth: She was stalling. Even while she was making preparations to run, she kept putting off actually leaving. During the day, she continued to handle her normal workload while also going over her schedule for the next few weeks, postponing and handing off what she could without rousing suspicion, and making copious notes about other things she was working on so whoever took over for her—probably Bryan, at least at first— would know what was going on. She amassed as much cash as she could. She packed suitcases in secret and stored them in the Camry's trunk. Their most prized possessions—Ben's baby book, the few things she had of his father's, precious mementos and photographs that couldn't be replaced—she tucked away in the trunk, too. If her heart ached when Bryan called her for an update on a case, or when Mona brought in her long black dress and sparkly earrings and insisted Kate try them on, or when a hundred other ordinary, everyday workplace happenings went down, well, she could deal.
She was having a much harder time dealing with the idea of leaving Tom.
Not that there was anything going on there anymore. He met her at work and followed her home; he ate supper with them (ordering pizza once, and helping with the cleanup each night); he played ball with Ben (who had yet to make another basket in gym, but who seemed philosophical about it); he watched TV and slept on the couch. He didn't grill her, didn't ask her any questions at all, as a matter of fact, and spoke to her very little. Their relationship could best be described as polite but guarded. In fact, Ben asked her in private if they'd had a fight, and when Kate responded with an "of course not," he gave her a look that said,
Yeah, right.
The bottom line was, he was there as a protector only, and she did her best to stay out of his way. She had the feeling he was doing the same thing with her. Nevertheless, just from living under the same roof with him, she learned certain things: that he was prone to being grumpy and taciturn in the mornings before he had his coffee. At night he was cheerful with Ben, less so with her, though occasionally she would catch him following her with his eyes. That he left dishes in the sink and the toilet seat up.
The thing was, though, she loved having him in the house.
She should never have let him stay.
Because more than ever now, she didn't want to leave.
Mid-morning Thursday, she got the wake-up call she needed. She went to the ladies' room during a break in an evidentiary hearing at the Criminal Justice Center, which was once again open for business. The restroom was empty when she went in, and she ducked into a stall, meaning to make it a quick in and out because the judge had given them only a ten-minute break. She was in the stall, actually sitting on the toilet, when something made her glance to her right.
There, just visible beneath the wall of the stall next door, was a man's leg, which she could see from just above the ankle down, in black trousers and a black wingtip shoe.
Her eyes went wide. Her heart leaped. Her pulse surged.
"Hello, Ms. White." He spoke before she could move or suck in enough air for a scream. As she realized who it was, her heart started beating very fast. "It's almost time for you to do us that favor. Answer if you can hear me."
She went cold all over. But what could she do? Clap her hands over her ears? Pretend to be deaf? Jump up and run?
Play the game out.
"I can hear you," she said.
"Good. Tomorrow night, you're going to a fund-raiser for Jim Wolff at the Trocadero Theatre. We'll call you while you're there with further instructions. Please repeat what I just said."
Kate's hands clenched into fists on her lap.
"You'll call me with instructions while I'm at the fund-raiser for Jim Wolff."
"That's right. You go to the fund-raiser, stay there until we call, do what we tell you then, and we're square. We leave you alone. You screw up, or tell anybody about this, and we kill you. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Good."
There was the sound of the stall door opening, a quick footfall, and then he was gone.
Kate, on the other hand, sat there shivering for so long that she was late for the rest of the hearing.