You Can't Escape (18 page)

“NO.”

September headed out of the squad room and pushed through the door to reception, where she was confronted with a woman in a tight, burnt-orange dress and heels, her brown hair artfully pulled into a messy bun, her dark eyes boring into September as if looking for flaws. She seemed vaguely familiar, but September couldn’t place her.

“I’m Detective Rafferty,” she said. “Did you want to see me?”

She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, in a consciously, or maybe unconsciously, arrogant post. “I thought Detective Rafferty was a man.”

“Ahh, I believe you’re looking for Detective August Rafferty, my brother,” September said.

“Oh.” A pause. “Yes.”

“You might have better luck at Portland PD, as he’s affiliated with them now, more than here.”

“I called Portland PD. They told me Detective Rafferty was the man I should talk to about the bombing, but the hospital told me Detective Rafferty was with the Laurelton PD.”

It was September’s turn to pause. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” But she suddenly knew, in that precognitive way, even before the woman said her name.

Her brain made the frizzing leap, at the same moment she introduced herself as, “Carmen Danziger. I’m Victor Saldano’s daughter, Maxwell Saldano’s sister.”

September was momentarily at a loss for words. This woman was a far cry from the fresh-faced, hazel-eyed woman with the almost coltish look, the one who’d been introduced by
Jay Danziger himself,
as Carmen Danziger, his wife.

“Detective?” the woman asked when the moment hung out there a bit too long.

“Yes . . . um . . .” Out of the corner of her eye, September sensed Guy Urlacher’s growing interest and it brought her back to the present. “Yes . . . Mrs. Danziger. My brother is the one you should really talk to. But I do know a little bit about the case, so you can come on back to my desk, if you like. I’ll hunt down Auggie for you, er, the other Detective Rafferty, in the meantime. I know he’ll want to talk to you.”

“Thank you,” she said, coolly imperious.

September shot Guy a look. If he chose now to play his game and not buzz her back inside . . . but instead he decided to be the picture of helpfulness . . . greeting Carmen Saldano with a brief nod before buzzing them both past security. In front of others—people who mattered—Guy could be a totally different person.

Snake in the grass
, September thought as she held the door for Carmen. She followed after Jay Danziger’s real wife, watching as she tip-tapped her way quickly and efficiently toward the squad room, moving on extremely high heels with practiced ease. September was given a view of her undulating hips as the orange dress swayed to and fro ahead of her.

You were right, big brother.
There was no missing the woman’s overt sensuality. She practically sizzled.

So, who the hell was impersonating Carmen Danziger? And why was Jay Danziger playing along?

September led Carmen to the chair on the far side of her desk. While Carmen arranged herself into the seat, September heard the squeak and squeal of George’s desk chair. She slid him a look. George was gazing raptly at Carmen. She could practically see the slaver. She held his gaze until George came back to himself. With an annoyed noise, he returned to his computer monitor.

“Let me text Detective Rafferty,” September said, pulling out her cell phone.

“I understand a woman managed to fool you all into thinking she was me.”

September was in the middle of creating the text for her brother and fumbled a bit over the tiny letters. She hoped her face didn’t reflect her dismay. “You . . . were at the hospital?” she guessed.

“That’s right.” She was clearly seeking to hold in her emotions, but she was doing a piss-poor job of it, as she was seething with rage.

Forced to defend herself, September said, “Mr. Danziger identified the woman as his wife.”

“His wife . . .” She clearly wanted to say more, but what came out was, “Well, now
Mr. Danziger
is missing from the hospital, kidnapped by this imposter.”

September added, Hurry, may have a situation here to her longer message about the appearance of the real Mrs. Danziger and quickly sent Auggie the text.

“I believe Mr. Danziger was complicit in the deceit and left on his own free will,” September answered carefully.

“Complicit.” She sniffed. “He had a head injury.”

“He signed the release papers.”

“Or, were they forged?”

“I’m . . . sure that can be determined.” September didn’t want to say too much, but neither did she want to act like she was stalling. So far Carmen seemed to be feeling her way, and September didn’t want to set her off.

On my way

Thank God.
“Detective Rafferty’s on his way here now. Would you like a coffee while we wait? Or tea? Water?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “How soon will he be here?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head, as if she just couldn’t believe their ineptitude, then settled into the chair, recrossing her legs in a manner that had George craning his neck and goggling once again.

“4G, my ass. I’m getting nothing out here,” Jordanna grumbled, staring at her phone. “Must not be a cell tower for a hundred miles.”

“Take it into town,” Dance suggested.

She gave him a suspicious look as she reached for the handles of her laptop case. “You trying to get rid of me? For the Love of Joe looked like it had Wi-Fi.”

“One of us should be doing something we want to.”

His earlier good mood had evaporated and she suspected he was in some pain. Better to get the hell out while the getting was good. “If I learn anything, I’ll let you know,” she said on her way out.

“Good,” he answered, and she had the feeling he really meant it.

Carmen Saldano was not a patient waiter. She tapped her foot and gazed over the tops of September and George’s heads as if she were mentally sending herself to some distant place, far away from the riffraff and peons before her.

When Auggie appeared, she perked up, her gaze lingering on him in a way that both amused and annoyed September. Yes, her brother was attractive: near black hair, blue-gray eyes, strong chin, the hint of a dimple, and a mouth that quirked with humor.... The man had turned more than a few female heads. But August Rafferty had met his waterloo when Liv Dugan crossed his path, leaving the Carmen Saldanos of the world shit out of luck. Not that Jay Danziger wasn’t equally attractive, she reminded herself. Beneath the bruising had been a pair of piercing blue eyes and a lantern jaw, and the five-o’clock shadow had added a raffish air.

She was annoyed with herself for fantasizing.

“Detective Rafferty?” Carmen greeted Auggie, unfolding herself from the chair and slowly rising to the feet. In her high heels, she was only a few inches shorter than he was.

Auggie thrust out a hand. “Mrs. Saldano.”

Her mouth tightened momentarily as she shook his hand. “You’re the man in charge of the bombing investigation?”

“I’m working the case,” he answered easily. Clearly she hadn’t connected with the feds yet. “So, I understand you weren’t the woman at the hospital with your husband,” he said. “You have any idea who she might be?”

“Isn’t it your job to find out?” she said, throwing a look around the room to encompass all of them.

“We’re investigating the bombing, and to that end, anything your husband can add would be helpful,” Auggie countered. “September—Detective September Rafferty—already spoke with him. I’m sure she told you about it?”

“I just want to know what’s being done,” Carmen said before September could respond.

Her preemptive manner didn’t phase Auggie. “Fair enough. Right now we’re examining the mechanism that controlled the bomb, and we’re checking video footage from different cameras angled toward Saldano Industries. There were several across the street that may give us something, since the cameras inside weren’t working.”

“I mean about this woman,” Carmen said impatiently.

“Mrs. Saldano—” Auggie began.

“Carmen,” she corrected.

“Carmen,” he began again. “We certainly want to find her and talk to her, but . . .” He took a moment and rubbed the tip of his nose in a gesture September had seen him employ as a means to gather his thoughts a hundred times before. “She’s not the focus of the investigation as your husband went with her willingly.”

Carmen reared back as if she’d been slapped.

“I spoke with your husband’s physician, Dr. William Cochran, who said your husband was eager to be released. Having this woman impersonate you is unorthodox—”

“Criminal,” she hissed.

“—and we certainly want to get to the bottom of it, but our prime focus is to find the parties responsible for the bombing.”

“Maybe she’s responsible,” Carmen said, flushing. “I can’t believe you’re going to let her get away with this!”

“We’re determining if a crime’s been committed,” Auggie tried to appease her, to which she practically shivered with rage.

“When you figure it out, talk to your superior, because that’s who I’m calling next. Thank you for your time,” she practically sneered. With that, she moved smartly toward the front exit, no sashaying this time, and Auggie, after lifting his brows at September, followed after her, clearly hoping to ameliorate the situation.

“Whoo,” George expelled.

“Glad she’s Auggie’s problem,” September said.

But when her brother returned a few minutes later, she learned that she’d spoken too soon. “Check up on the relationship between Carmen and her husband. I want to know who this impersonator is.”

“You acted like she’s a low priority,” September reminded him.

“Maybe she isn’t. I want the hospital camera footage when she left with Danziger.”

“You think she’s involved in the bombing?” September questioned.

“It’s an anomaly, that’s all.”

September’s desk phone rang at that moment. When Auggie turned to leave, she held up a finger. “Wait.” Picking up her line, she said, “Rafferty.”

The dispatcher said, “Pauline Kirby from Channel Seven called for you.”

September swore pungently, and both Auggie and George stared at her in surprise. “I’m not available right now.” She slammed down the phone.

“Who was that who got the truck-driver mouth treatment?” Auggie asked.

“Pauline Kirby wants to talk to me.”

“Oh. God.” Auggie shook his head. “Don’t say anything about the bombing.”

“Like I would.” She snorted. “I’m not going to call her back.”

George said fatalistically, “She won’t give up.”

September made a choking noise and her brother said, “I gotta go. There’s a woman on one of the cameras who was across the street at the time of the bombing and was knocked over by the blast. The camera was damaged from the same concussion, so we’ve only got a small amount of videotape, but it’s something.”

“Was she injured?” September asked.

“Don’t know yet. Maybe she went to an ER, but so far we haven’t found her at any hospital. We’re checking other cameras, too, even if they’re too far away. Just sifting through whatever we can find.”

“And you want me to look into the Danziger marriage?” September asked.

“It pisses me off that it’s not really our case anymore. I want to get as much as I can before I’m yanked off completely. Let’s check Jay Danziger. Find out where he took off to, once he left the hospital, because he clearly didn’t go home.”

“You think he’s involved in the bombing?” George asked.

“Took a pretty big risk to his own health, if he is. I think it’s much more likely that he knows something, or at least suspects, and that’s why he’s gone off the radar.”

“And the fake Carmen?” September asked.

“Find out who Danziger’s women friends are,” Auggie said. “Maybe there’s one that’s very close.”

“Who looks like his wife,” September said.

“Except more coltish,” Auggie answered with the faintest of smiles.

Chapter Eleven

For the Love of Joe’s clientele had slowed down from the morning rush but was still a fairly steady stream by the time Jordanna stepped inside. She found a table toward the far end of the narrow coffee shop and headed for it before someone could sit down. The problem was it was situated right up against the front window. Anyone and everyone in Rock Springs could pass by and see her. Still, she needed Wi-Fi, so she ordered a cup of black coffee, asked for the wireless code, then was able to flip open her laptop and connect to the free service.

She went straight to the
Rock Springs Pioneer
site, which could be accessed for a small fee on her credit card, and searched past stories. There was mention of an unidentified male body found by a nine-year-old boy, Zach Benchley, while he was riding on an ATV three years earlier. The boy’s dog had run into the brush and started barking and the boy had gone to see what he’d found, thus discovering the body. This was likely the “homeless” man who’d been branded, because Jordanna was fairly certain her father’s property—or mother’s, depending on whom you asked, apparently—abutted, or was near, Benchley property. The Benchleys themselves were shirttail relatives of some sort. She recalled her father—or was it her mother?—saying something about them, but it had been a throwaway line. Aunt Evelyn had mentioned that the psychologist Jordanna had seen for a time, Dr. Anna Eggers, was a Benchley, so maybe that’s what she was remembering?