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“Honey no, I don’t miss him, in fact, it slipped my mind. There’s a hole in the bottle of wine.”
April stared at the bottle in her hand, the famous country song of Kelsea Ballerina blaring from the U-tube video on her laptop as she looked for the famous hole in the bottle of her wine.
“I’m with you, girl,” she pronounced to Kelsea out loud. How many glasses had she drank? She stared at her wine glass as it slowly turned into two and then slid back to one. She could actually believe there might be a hole in her bottle; she didn’t remember drinking that much of it.
April rarely drank, but she did enjoy a nice glass of wine now and then. Her mother didn’t used to drink either but now she did. Since Shatemuc had died, a lot of things had changed, especially her mother. Last Christmas she’d slipped a bottle of merlot in April’s bag before she’d left. Until now, it hadn’t been opened. What was it about a man that drove a woman to drink? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?
A slight hiccup escaped her lips as she slowly replaced the cork in
the bottle that was mostly gone. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her pictures again until she reached the one of her and Nat in Hanover Park with Mel Folger’s reindeer behind them. He had his arm around her shoulders and was holding her close to his body. His big smile turned up the corners of his mouth, revealing his sexy dimples. The cleft in his chin, as well as the rest of his jawline, was covered in a five-o’clock-shadow that was totally hot. Slowly she slid sideways on the sofa until she was laying down and then rolled over to her back. She zoomed in on the picture until Nat’s face filled the screen and then she covered it with kisses before pressing it to her breasts. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and slid down her face.
When April woke up, the sun was licking her eyeballs, trying to annoy her awake. It was working. She groaned as her hands went to the slight weight pressing on her chest.
Oh yeah...her phone.
She must have fallen asleep with it in her hands. Groaning, she forced her eyes open and picked it up. Gah! It was Nat staring right at her. She vaguely remembered kissing the picture before she fell asleep.
Quickly she turned it off and set it aside. She didn’t need to be judged by those eyes this early on a Monday morning. Her gaze landed on the bottle of wine and the glass on the coffee table. Wow, the bottle was almost empty. No wonder she’d been so maudlin last night. It had nothing to do with the fact that she super missed her handsome detective, right? Nah, of course not. Having settled that, she stumbled to the bathroom; her bladder was killing her.
A hot shower and a giant cup of coffee did wonders for April’s morale. There would be no repeat of last night, she scolded herself. The entire weekend had been wasted pining after someone she couldn’t have. Not that it mattered, she had nowhere to go anyway until her meeting this afternoon. Until she figured out what had happened to her dad, she definitely had to stay away from Nathaniel Murphy.
No matter how much she missed him.
It had been an unexpected shock to have him almost catch her yesterday, so she’d allowed herself to wallow in the misery of wanting what she couldn’t have. But today was a new day—time to get back to work.
When her cell phone suddenly rang in the morning stillness, it almost made her drop the blonde wig she was settling on her head. No one called her anymore except her mother and an old friend from school that had shared her interest in auras. They and the apartment complex were the only people she had given her phone number too.
“Hi, Mom,” she said breathlessly into the phone, her heart racing. Obviously the effects of the wine and yesterday’s scare hadn’t completely worn off yet, her nerves were shot.
“Have you been out jogging?” her mother asked, her voice filled with curiosity. “You sound out of breath.”
“No...no. Just...ah...getting ready to go to work.”
“How is your job going at the law firm, honey? Getting their computers all up to code still?”
“Don’t say things like that out loud, Mom,” April hissed. “You know it’s a hush hush project and the older Mr. Smelt doesn’t want anyone to know what I’m doing. I’m a girl Friday, remember?”
Her mother laughed. “You and your father, always so secretive. Bollix then, I won’t mention it to anyone. I think not even being allowed to call you at work is above and beyond, but whatever you think, honey. I’ll keep your secrets,” she added wistfully. “When are you coming home? I haven’t seen you since Christmas.”
“Soon, I promise,” April replied. She hated lying to her mom, especially since she seemed so sad all the time. How she would love to see her face brighten like it used to when her father would walk in the door. She’d give a lot to see that happen. Maybe once she figured out who stole the light of her mom’s world, her mother would bounce back.
“Make it soon, sunshine,” Rebecca ordered softly. “I miss you.”
Tears clogged her throat. “I miss you too, Mom. I’ll try to make it this weekend.”
Maybe she should get out of the city for a few days. Seeing Nat had really unnerved her, and her last lead hadn’t panned out anyway. Maybe it was time for a break.
“I’ll hold you to that and have the kettle on with your favorite tea,” Rebecca replied.
“Can we have a crab boil outside?”
Rebecca chuckled. “Of course we can. It’s July after all. It will be good to get to the beach and feel the sand between our toes,” she added wistfully. “Your father always loved a good crab boil.”
“See you Friday night.”
“Friday, sunshine.” Her mother rang off.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away,” April sang softly as she laid her cell phone down and tucked her braid up beneath the blonde wig. She had fond memories of that song, her mother had sang it so often to her.
It occurred to her once again that what she was doing was dangerous. Her mom had already lost the light of her world. What would happen if her sunshine disappeared?
Brushing the depressing thought aside, she shored up the crumbling bastions of determination to find her father’s killer in her mind. That would make her and her mom both happy—ecstatically happy.
No one had listened when they’d told the police that her dad hardly ever drank, let alone got drunk enough to kill himself. Besides, who got that drunk anyway? No one had cared. Even the FBI didn’t care. His old boss, Jason Ambones had completely agreed with the local police and the case had been ruled an accidental drowning. No loyalty there.
“Accidental my wicked tatas,” April muttered.
Her dad had dedicated his entire life to the FBI and that was the best they could do? Her gentle loving father moved into private detective work just so he could continue helping others. He’d always told her that when you had the kind of skills they had been blessed with, it was important to use them for the benefit of your fellow human beings. To give back.
Well, no one was giving back to Shatemuc Hudson.
Appraising the girl in the mirror, April was satisfied. Green contact lenses, blonde wig, a white business suit with killer red 4-inch stilettos—she was ready. One more job on her list to finish up today.
Grabbing her briefcase with her laptop, her handbag with her small caliber pistol inside, and her cell phone, she looked around the apartment with a practiced gaze. If she never returned here, she’d left nothing of consequence behind. It was another thing her dad had taught her; don’t keep your valuables where you lived. That’s what lockers and bank deposit boxes were for.
Making her way down the first-floor steps, cell phone to her ear as if in conversation, she saw him coming up the lower steps.
He’d found her!
She watched Nat’s sharp eyes stray to her left ankle and was profoundly relieved to know he wouldn’t see the butterfly tattoo. It was covered with a fake skin graft. She sailed past him on the landing with a confident stride, listening to her fake conversation on her phone and nodding her head like people do even though the other person can’t see you.
Nat proceeded on up the stairs after a quick appreciative body swipe of his dark blue eyes when they passed. She continued down the second flight of stairs, her heart beating a rapid tattoo. She forced herself not to panic, she was more kick-ass than that. She was also glad she hadn’t left anything behind to come back for. Once again her dad had proved to be right.
As she slid into the seat of her Lincoln, her eyes shot upward at his tall figure outside her door. Drinking in the sight of him, she hesitated for a moment. Suddenly his gaze whipped towards her and she casually put her cell phone down and pushed the start button on her car. She could feel his stare, it was heating her body, making her ache with regret.
Snapping her seat belt in place, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he placed his hands on the railing and studied her. Forcing herself to stay calm and unhurried, she backed out and drove away. In her rearview mirror before she turned the corner, she could see him still staring after her.
Had he made her?
She was sure he hadn’t, or he would have come after her. It had been a near miss though. Her fingers trembling, she whipped into a parking lot and pulled into an empty spot facing the street a few rows back. Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax. How had he found her when she’d been so careful? If she’d hesitated just thirty seconds longer he'd have seen her coming out of her apartment. Or worse yet, still been there when he’d knocked.
To be on the safe side in case he’d taken her license plate, she called for an Uber and had the driver deliver her a few blocks away from her appointment. From there she walked. And she’d liked that Lincoln too. “Bollix,” she muttered. “Now I have to get another car.”
She’d put the fake license plate stickers on the front and back of the Lincoln to prevent the police from finding her car right away. They’d just cruise the parking lots looking for black MKXs, but the plates wouldn’t match so they’d move on. There were plenty of Lincolns to go around. Until someone actually reported her car had been sitting there for days, they wouldn’t run the plate. Even then it wouldn’t come back to Winona, it would come back to a farmer in a small town in Iowa who would have no idea what they were talking about. She snickered, imagining the frustration on Nat’s handsome face.
Back to the question at hand, how had he found her? Had she raised a hacker flag after all with the FBI? It occurred to her that using her dad’s handle might have been a mistake. The wind’s daughter or wife would be the first place they’d look, especially since she and her mother were disgruntled that his death had been closed. Okay, so there would be no more searches from the wind. From now on, it would be—kickasstornado.
April was glad when her target building finally loomed in front of her. How did women walk in these stilettos all day long? Her feet were aching. Her brow was slightly damp from the heat of the July afternoon and her head was wicked hot beneath the wig. Wigs were expensive, oh yes they were. She wouldn’t be doing this again. Dying her hair would be the better option next time.
The plate glass carousel door opened to swing her around and into the lobby of the black steel and glass building. Her appointment with James Mason was at 3:00 pm. It was now 2:20 pm and she knew he was in a board meeting, and she would have to wait when she reached his office.
The soft snick of the doors closing behind her had her pulse speeding up. The whir of the elevator as it whisked her to the 10th floor was muted. When she stepped out on the soft thick carpet of the lobby of the Boston Coroner’s office, she turned to her right and made her way to the reception desk.
“Mr. Mason’s office, please, I have an appointment,” she told the polished woman behind the desk.
The brunette in the black suit frowned, her red fingernails glinting as she tapped the head of a pencil against the top of the glass desk. “You’re early.”
“May I wait in his office? He’s expecting me.”
The eyes behind the glasses perched on an aquiline nose studied her suspiciously. Finally she made her decision. “All right. Come this way, I’ll turn you over to his secretary, Miss Weathers. You can sit with her until Mr. Mason returns.”
“That will be fine,” April agreed, following the robust hips of the office watchdog down the hall and around a corner where she opened a wooden door with James Mason plated to the front.
“Mr. Mason’s 3:00 pm appointment is here early, Miss Weathers, I’ll leave her here with you to wait for him.”
Miss Weathers smiled, her face warm and interesting. Much different from the rawboned, tough look of the watchdog. Obviously, James Mason liked his secretaries young and pretty.
Miss Weathers pushed a few buttons on her keyboard. “Yes, I see she’s on the schedule for today,” she replied. “Thank you, I’ll take care of her.”
The watchdog left, leaving April alone in the plush office with the lovely Miss Weathers dressed in pink and black with a barbie doll face and blonde hair. Wicked pissah. Things were going as planned at exactly 2:30 pm.
At 2:35 pm, April began to fan herself and moan slightly.
Miss Weathers looked up from her computer. “Are you all right? You don’t look well.”
“I-I may have to reschedule,” April stammered, wiping her brow. “Maybe something I ate for lunch that didn’t agree with me? I hate to though, it took me 3 months to get this appointment.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry. Yes, it is hard to get appointments with Mr. Mason, he is a very busy man.” Her sympathetic face was just what April was hoping for. Her aura was showing kindness.
“C-could I maybe get a glass of water? Or even a cold soda? Maybe a coke would settle my stomach a bit better.”
Miss Weathers stood up, her face concerned. “Of course, I’ll get you something to drink. I’ll just be a minute, we have a kitchen on this floor.”
“Thank you,” April replied, gushing.
The moment Miss Weathers was gone and the door closed behind her, April hurried to Mason’s office door and slipped inside. Within another 30 seconds, she had hooked up her laptop to Mason’s computer and located the coroner’s file cases on Shatemuc Hudson. She hadn’t been able to hack them in a low-grade hack outside, but here, where the FBI stored their coroner findings, she had direct access.
It took exactly 30 seconds for the upload to complete. Quickly, she disengaged and ran back to the door, opening it to peek out to see if Miss Weathers was back. She was just seating herself when the young woman returned with her drink. Fanning herself, she accepted it and took a few sips.
Perfect.
Suddenly she jumped to her feet, holding her stomach. “I really have to go, I’m so sorry. Tell Mr. Mason I’ll make another appointment. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Miss Weathers stood up as she hurried to the door. “Oh dear, yes, I’ll tell him!”
April left with Miss Weathers’ “feel better” ringing in her ears. She rushed past the watchdog, holding her hand to her mouth, and caught the elevator just as the door opened to let someone out. The time on her watch was 2:45 pm.
Down in the lobby, she rushed into the bathroom and slipped into the handicapped stall. Quickly she changed her clothing, put the lid down on the toilet, and sat there while she checked her laptop and the file she’d uploaded. Her lips thinned and anger shook her slender body.
Shatemuc Hudson hadn’t had any water in his lungs!
The coroner’s report in the county of his death showed that the FBI had confirmed the local coroner’s finding, but they had known better. And she had the proof. Her father had been murdered.
The FBI knew about it and had done nothing!
April uploaded the file to a micro-USB and slipped it into the cavity in the brim of her Boston Patriots’ cap. Then she sent the file to her dad’s private email that only she knew about, took a picture of it with her phone, and deleted the file from her laptop. The briefcase she wiped clean and left empty in the trashcan. Her handbag was turned inside out and held everything else.
Several people had been in and out of the bathroom by this time, so it was time to leave. If they happened on her trail and checked the cameras, there wasn’t one directly on this particular bathroom. She’d scoped that out in advance. And there were two sets of doors to the building. She went out the back one that emptied her around the block. The girl in the white leggings, navy blue tank-top, and the patriots ball cap with a bag over her shoulder would not be the most suspicious person to look at if they were checking cameras for Winona Ferguson in killer red heels. The time was 3:00 pm.
Walking along the crowded street, she finally found an opening between the buildings that didn’t have a street camera aimed at it. Slipping into the cool darkness of the alcove, she quickly stripped off her tank top and put it in her bag. Her cap went in the bag and her hair went up in a messy bun clip. The pink sports bra that matched her soft sided pink flats turned inside out completed the change into someone else yet again.
Slipping out from the building, she called an Uber to drop her off at Boston National Bank. Inside, Candy Matthews deposited the laptop with the file into a safety deposit box and took out the key to April Aponi Hudson’s red Honda she had stored in long-term parking at the airport. She would have an Uber driver drop her off there.
Uber drivers were the best invention since sliced bread. Plentiful, always available, discreet, and hard to track, they were her go to when she needed a ride—which she often did.
After picking up her red Honda, she made her way to her apartment in Revere at the Waldorf apartments under her real name. This was her third apartment there. Now that she had some proof that her dad didn’t drown, she intended to pack a bag and head back to her dad’s detective agency and then go home to see her mom.
The patch covering her ankle went out the window and her transformation back to April Hudson was complete. She’d told her mother she’d be there Friday, but things had changed since then.
When she reached the apartments, something didn’t feel right. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled in warning. Instead of turning down the lane to her apartment, she left the complex and got on the freeway headed north. Unless Nat put out an all points on her Honda, she had no reason to worry about being stopped.
April was no fool. If Nat had found Winona, he would soon be knocking at April Hudson’s apartment door. And from then on to Rebecca Hudson’s door. It was only a matter of time. Where had she screwed up?
Warmth stirred in her belly. It would be good to see him, but should she pretend she didn’t know him? The fact was, she couldn’t. Her ta-tas would give her away as soon as he looked at her. Nat was no fool either. To expect him to believe that was ridiculous and juvenile. He wouldn’t like her doing what she was doing either, but that was just too damned bad. She would find her father’s killer, she was getting closer.
Automatically her thoughts shifted to the information she’d found, and how many places she could hide it so no one could take it from her. Why had someone wanted her father dead?
The pain she’d been ignoring since she’d found that file finally blossomed like an unfolding flower in her chest. Silent tears trickled down her face as she drove. The security was extremely tight in the FBI coroner’s office, it wouldn’t be long before the file breach was discovered. Jason Ambones would know the truth was out. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
***
NAT WATCHED THE BLONDE with the killer red heels drive away in the black Lincoln. He took note of the license plate. He should have looked closer at her face, but all he’d seen was a flash of green eyes while she was on her cell phone. April didn’t have green eyes. She could have been wearing contacts though, and Jason had said this apartment was where Winona Ferguson lived. He just didn’t have a description.
When he’d knocked on apartment 217, no one had answered. It just felt empty somehow. His gut instinct had kicked in and he’d been drawn back to the blonde beauty. She was as cool as a cucumber, he’d give her that, if it was April. The body could be, but nothing else matched. No butterfly tattoo either, he’d checked.
He dialed into the station. “Sheila, run a plate for me, will you?”
“Go ahead,” Sheila replied in a brisk, professional voice.
“A43-PM2”
Within just a few seconds Sheila was back. “Adam four three Paul Mary 2 comes back to a 2009 Lincoln MKS to a Winona Ferguson out of Revere.”
Nat rolled his eyes, that was the name Jason had given him. “Thanks, Sheila. Ask any blue and white in the area of the Waldorf apartments on Hasher to look for a black, Lincoln MKS with those plates on them. She just left here and she’s a person of interest in something I’m working on.”
“Ten four,” Sheila replied.
“And run her through NCIC for me, will you?”
“I already have, she isn’t there.”
“Tell the boys the driver is a hot little blonde in a white suit and killer red heels. That should get them looking faster,” he replied with a chuckle.” Nat hung up his phone with a grimace. It had to have been April all right, the hot little mess had given him the slip again. She was good, really good. And like her father, an expert in disguises.
A part of him was madder than a mean hornet that she didn’t trust him, but another part of him had to give her credit. The girl had skills. Then again, why should she trust him? They’d only known each other a few weeks. If she was hacking illegally, then of course she wouldn’t want to tell him. He might arrest her and haul her little ass in. She couldn’t know that the only place he wanted to haul her little butt was over his lap for a long overdue spanking. Especially now that he knew what she was up to. Another part of him was afraid for her, afraid she would end up dead if she kept going like she was. He didn’t intend to let that happen.
Since Winona had now become a person of interest, the manager finally came up to Winona’s apartment to let Nat in, and like he’d figured, he came up with nothing. He did take the wine bottle that was almost empty for fingerprints and DNA to verify her identity. He’d keep it on the downlow, he didn’t want Jason to get any evidence that could connect April to the wind.
On an impulse, he called back to the office and asked if an April Hudson had an apartment in their complex. What were the chances? If she had two here already under different names, it stood to reason, only her crazy reasoning, that she might have a third. Hide in plain sight seemed to be her modus of operandi.
He’d be damned if it wasn’t working for her too because they did! They confirmed that she was on the far side of the complex from the apartment he was in though. He’d have to drive around to the other side.
Driving around and parking in the other parking lot, he looked up at the door to apartment 317. Ironic...each apartment had been one floor higher than the last. He didn’t have a reason to get into this apartment though, and no way to get one at the moment. April Hudson was a law-abiding citizen as far as the law was concerned. He picked up his phone.
“Hey, Nat, what’s up?” Oliver Tremaine asked.
“Feel like bringing me some Starbucks and keeping me company for a while?” Nat asked with a yawn.
“I’m taking it you’re on a stakeout again?”
“Strictly a stakeout. No arresting, so you’re fine.” Nat didn’t take civilians for ride-a-longs anymore, except for Oliver. And not then if he was expecting any action. There was no way he would put an untrained person in a position of danger. He’d had a ride along once that had turned into a traffic stop. The kid from the police academy had tried to help when the two suspects had decided to pull a gun on him as he walked up to the window of their car. The kid had been shot in the leg when he tried to get out of the police car and play hero. He’d had no idea what he was doing and they were both lucky the two had driven off. Nat had called an ambulance and the suspects in a robbery had gotten away. That was the last time Nat had accepted a ride along in his vehicle.
“Text me your address and I’ll grab a thermos and have them fill it,” Oliver instructed with a chuckle.
“Sounds great, thanks.” Nat yawned again and glanced at his watch. It was 3:20 pm. Sleep had eluded him this weekend, and stakeouts made him tired anyway.
He knew Winona wouldn’t be coming back to her apartment if she mirrored what April Sue Madison had done. So, unless she had yet another identity and another apartment somewhere, she might be forced to come back this afternoon as the real April.
And he would be waiting.
Gazing up at the door above him once again, he realized there was something stuck on it. A piece of paper. Curiosity drove him to see what it was. After quickly climbing the stairs and reading the note, an idea formed in his mind. The paper taped to the door was from the apartment complex announcing they would be doing an internal spray for spiders and any other pests inside the apartment at 3:30 pm—today! He couldn’t help the feral grin that lifted his lips.
Perfect! He had a way inside.
He called Oliver back and cancelled stake out duty.