“Where are you?” Jackson asked, his frustration returning and going into overdrive. While he appreciated this informant, he wished he could get the woman to tell him her true identity. But that had been part of the bargain. No questions about who she really was.
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Look, lady, I need real help here. I’ve got other problems right now.”
“I can only tell you that Vincent is still in Montana and he’s searching for Eloise Hill—nothing new there—except he’s so mad he’s out of control. Someone told him exactly where to find the woman, but as you well know, that discovery didn’t pan out. His men are closing in, but he wants to take you out himself, Agent McGraw. He’s furious about one of his men getting shot. And he thinks the cop who showed up this morning is part of your sting. So he’s not going to send out henchmen anymore. Now he’s out on the prowl himself and he wants to be the one to make the kill.”
“I get that,” Jackson replied, not daring to tell her that Parker was a big part of all of their problems. “If you have any pull with this man, you’ll urge him to stop this.”
“I have no control. He doesn’t even know I exist. Just be forewarned. He’s going to find you sooner or later.”
The connection ended. Jackson gave Eloise a long stare, the warmth of their earlier kiss giving him courage and reminding him of why he was here. “Let’s get inside.”
She glanced around. “Are we in danger out here?”
“We’re always in danger.”
Eloise followed him back into the den. He wouldn’t listen to her and he certainly wouldn’t tell her what he’d heard on the phone. He’d put himself on the line until the very end. Until it was too late. And she was helpless.
She watched as he shouted out orders. “The Veiled Lady sent us another warning. Martino is getting antsy and he’s definitely in the area. Apparently, our little brawl this morning has put him over the edge. He’s not issuing orders to his thugs anymore. According to our lady, Martino wants to finish this himself. He’s looking for us.”
“How does she know all of this if she’s never in contact with him?” Roark asked.
“She has to have someone inside the Mob,” Jackson replied. “Someone close to Martino. And I think that someone was at Eloise’s apartment during the shoot-out.”
Marcus whistled low. “Well, I pity that person if Martino gets suspicious.”
Jackson nodded. “That’s why the Veiled Lady is so afraid to let us know her identity. And that’s why Martino doesn’t even know she’s alive, according to her.”
Thea stepped forward. “Sir, could this woman possibly be Vincent’s mother? Supposedly, she’s dead. But what if—”
Jackson lifted an eyebrow. “Francesca? No. She was killed when she tried to get away from her husband years ago when Vincent was around seven. She had Vincent with her, but they found her, killed her and brought Vincent home. She’s dead.”
Eloise cleared her throat. “You said this woman told you Vincent doesn’t even know she’s alive.”
Jackson stood stock-still, his mind spinning back over the details of his meetings with the mysterious woman. “Her exact words were that he doesn’t even know she exists. I’ve never seen her face. But she has a raspy voice. Could be an older woman.”
“You taped some of the conversations, didn’t you, sir?” Thea asked.
“Yes, but that won’t help. We don’t have Francesca’s voice on record anywhere to compare.”
“Or he would have done that already,” Roark said with an edge.
“I made a deal with the Veiled Lady—that I wouldn’t force her to identify herself as long as she dished out information.”
“And so she has,” Roark said. “But…it’s kind of vague. Too bad she can’t give us a location on Martino.”
“Yeah, too bad,” Jackson replied, his tone just as sarcastic as Roark’s. “Maybe she knows but she’s afraid to go that far.”
“That makes sense. They’d figure it out if she gave details.”
“They’d figure out one of their associates or capos has turned traitor,” Jackson replied. “And we all know where that leads.”
“Bang, bang,” Marcus said, his blue eyes icy cold.
Eloise shivered. “If this woman is Vincent’s mother, she might be able to get through to him.”
Jackson played that scenario in his head. “I don’t know. He’s an evil, misguided psychopath. I doubt even his own mother could get him to stop.”
“But…even evil, misguided psychopaths need a mother’s love,” Roark said with a wry smile.
Jackson nodded. “Thea, see what you can find on Francesca Martino. And while you’re at it, examine Vincent’s top capos again and get back to me with a full report. Oh, and keep me posted on the Secret Crush roses, too.”
“Yes, sir,” Thea said, heading upstairs. “I’m on it.”
“What about us, Big Mac?” Roark asked, pivoting, Duff following him around.
“Stand watch,” Jackson ordered. “Take shifts and don’t dare blink.”
“I don’t ever blink,” Marcus replied.
Eloise watched as they left. “I believe him.”
“They’re dedicated,” Jackson said, turning to look her over. “But don’t worry. You don’t have to feel guilty about them, either. They love their jobs.”
“I can’t see how.”
“They want to keep the world safe.”
“Do you all think you’re superheroes?”
“No,” he said, his tone flat. “We just do our jobs and hope we make a difference.”
She shrugged. “Let’s change the subject. Are you hungry?”
“No,” he said, his gaze moving over her face. “Let’s sit down. I’m tired.”
“Okay.” She followed him to the sofa. “I wonder how Verdie’s doing. She has to be wondering if I’m okay.”
“I talked to her today,” he said. “Sorry, that was the least of my concerns but she called me. She’d seen the news report. I told her you were safe and not to worry. And I told her not to talk to anyone from the police department or anybody else for that matter.”
“So…no one’s bothered her and Frank?”
“Not so far. I think she’s in the clear.”
His cell went off again. “Hello?”
“Jackson?”
Kristin’s soft voice came through the line. He’d also called her earlier, afraid she’d hear an AP news report on the shoot-out and panic. “Hi,” he said, getting up and turning away from Eloise. “Are you okay?”
“I just need to hear my mother’s voice. Please?”
Jackson weighed the risks. Even though he’d called her, he’d told her to wait until she heard from him again. “It’s not a good time.”
“It might be the only time,” she shot back. “I won’t talk long.”
Jackson turned to Eloise. Maybe Kristin was right. Things might not go as planned and then he’d regret refusing to let her speak to Eloise. “Okay. Keep it short.”
He sat back down then offered Eloise the phone. “Someone wants to talk to you.”
“Who is it?” she asked, clearly surprised that he’d let her speak to anyone over the phone even if it was a secure line.
“It’s your daughter,” he said. Then he handed her the phone and left her sitting there staring at it.
Eloise held the fancy gadget to her ear. “Hello?”
“It’s…Kristin.”
The voice seemed so near. Her daughter’s voice. “Kristin.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement full of awe and wonder. Tears hit like nettles against Eloise’s eyes. “Kristin.”
“I was worried,” her daughter replied. “Just so worried.”
“It’s hard, honey,” Eloise said. “It’s always been hard. I…I did the only thing I could—to protect you.”
“I understand that now. I never knew. I never knew you even existed.”
Eloise thought about what the Veiled Lady had said to Jackson. Almost the same words. “I wanted to keep you safe. It was the only way.” What if that was why Francesca had pretended to be dead and had stayed away—to keep her son safe?
“I don’t blame you,” Kristin said. “I just want to see you, get to know you.”
They talked a few minutes more, mostly about Kristin’s childhood. Eloise was glad to hear it had been a good one.
Jackson came back into the room then stood over her, signaling she needed to end the call.
It was too soon. A whole lifetime in a few minutes. “I…I have to go now,” she said, her voice cracking. “Kristin, I hear you’re getting married soon.”
“I’m waiting for you, Mom. I want you there, please.”
“I’ll be there, baby. I promise. And, Kristin…I love you so much. Always remember that.”
She heard the soft intake of a sob. “Okay. I love you, too. Bye, Mom.”
The connection was gone, the phone quiet now. But oh, inside her heart, in that place that had ached and hurt for so very long, the warmth of hearing her daughter’s voice brought a blossoming of hope to Eloise’s soul.
She handed the phone back to Jackson then wiped her eyes. “She called me Mom.”
“You’re her mother.”
His words were straightforward and solemn but his eyes held the faint sheen of moisture.
Eloise nodded, her hand going to her mouth as tears fell down her face. “I never dreamed…that I’d hear her voice again, that I could even hope to see her again. I never dreamed…Jackson.”
He sat down beside her then tugged her into his arms. “Yeah, what are the odds, huh?”
Eloise knew the odds. And they didn’t look very good from where she was sitting. But the man holding her made her feel secure and hopeful. Very hopeful, in spite of her dire worries and her fear that she’d lose both him and her daughter all over again.
“Let’s go over everything once again,” Jackson said. “From the top.”
His agents didn’t look thrilled about that demand. Maybe because it was nearly one in the morning. But his brother, Micah, had come up to Great Falls to meet with the task force and he didn’t seem in any hurry to go to bed. “I’m willing to go over all the details again,” he said.
“Brothers!” Roark shuffled the papers. “Can we do the short version, sir?”
Jackson stared him down. “No. I want the long and thorough version. Again.”
“January,” Roark began. “Special Agent Jackson McGraw gets a visit from a veiled female informant in his Chicago office. Informant tells him to expect activity from the Martino crime family soon. Old don is dying, young hotshot don is taking over and wants to ‘avenge’ his father.” He went over the merging particulars of the case, from the time Kristin Perry had contacted Micah trying to find her mother and how in the middle of that, Micah had protected Jade Summers. “One capo arrested after trying to kill Marshal McGraw and Jade Summers but he’s not talking. And in the meantime, FBI in conjunction with the U.S. Marshal’s office discovers a possible leak within the ranks.”
Jackson leaned forward. “Micah and I compared notes and realized these killings might be in connection with the Witness Protection Program and subject Eloise Hill, missing for twenty years.” Here he glanced over to the big leather couch where Eloise lay sleeping under a chenille blanket. He’d insisted she stay downstairs until everyone went to bed. “Enter reporter Violet Kramer and Officer Clay West, who just happen to compare notes on the same subject and almost get killed trying to investigate.” He broke down the details on that. “Veiled Lady informs FBI that Vincent Martino is still on the prowl and after Eloise Hill, who can’t be located at this point. Leak keeps Mafia one step ahead of our investigation.”
Marcus took over. “Hannah Williams, aka Jen Davis—also under protection regarding an unrelated case—hides out on ranch owned by Austin Taylor, nursing his ill daughter. Hannah threatened and almost killed—mistaken for Eloise Hill.”
Thea pulled at her files. “Witness Protection subject Olivia Jensen reunited with her husband, Ford, after he tracks her to Montana. Ms. Jensen then set to testify against Vincent Martino in April, after witnessing him killing a man in Chicago. Olivia Jensen is pregnant and scared so her husband takes her into hiding to protect her. Mob locates them. Ford Jensen gets shot but Olivia Jensen does testify and Vincent Martino goes to jail, only to escape. Jensens now out of country under assumed names.”
Jackson nodded. “Veiled Lady reports Vincent is out for blood and headed to Montana. Which brings us back to Kristin Perry, who visited Micah, talked with me here in Montana and in Chicago…and secretly attended the trial of Vincent Martino—where we believe she was identified by the Mob.”
A gasp from the couch brought all of their heads up. Eloise shot up, her eyes wide. “My daughter was in Chicago at that trial?”
Jackson watched as she pushed at her mussed hair and got up off the couch to stare over at him. “Why would Kristin go to Vincent Martino’s trial?”
“Excuse me,” he said to the others. Then he got up and walked over to Eloise. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
She pushed at him. “Do you actually think I was asleep? I’ve been lying there listening to all of this, wondering how in the world the Mob could keep killing women simply because they have green eyes like me. Am I so valuable to them that they’d try to kill anyone who attempted to investigate me or find me and that they’d kill my daughter just because she belongs to me?”
Before he could answer that, she rushed to the front door of the house and opened it wide. “Hey, I’m here. It’s me, Eloise Hill, in the flesh. You want me? Come and get me!”
Jackson ran to grab her and pull her back inside, kicking the door shut, his hands on her arms. “Are you crazy?”
“Yes, I am,” she said, shouting the words at him. “I’m on the verge of having a complete breakdown. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t.”
He lifted his head just an inch, his gaze on their now-wide-awake audience. “Take a break.”
The others scattered. But Micah kept his eyes on Jackson and Eloise. “You sure about this, Jackson?”
“Go,” Jackson said. “Take five.”
Eloise waited until Micah left the room. “I thought you’d told me everything. But you’ve been keeping things from me all along, haven’t you?”
“I can’t talk about all the aspects of this case, Ellie.”
“But you should have told me everything regarding my daughter,” she shot back. “Kristin shouldn’t have gone to Chicago, ever.”
“She came to see me,” he said, wishing he could make her understand. “I didn’t want her to attend the trial but she insisted. She wanted to see the man who was trying to kill you. And she wanted to learn more about his father.”
“Well, I guess she learned a lot since Vincent has a hit on her now, too.”
Jackson put his hand on her chin, lifting her head. “Ellie, you didn’t need to know all of that. You only needed to know that you weren’t safe. And that your daughter wants to see you again.”
She looked distant, her anger coloring her eyes a dark green, but then her features softened. “I can’t believe any of this. It’s like a bad movie-of-the-week. All because of me, Jackson. Me. Tell me, did the Mob ever threaten Kristin? I mean, really come close the way they have with me?”
Jackson thought back on what he’d told her—only that Kristin had been and still could be in danger. Deciding to level with her, he said, “They came close once but she got away. After that, Zane helped to protect her until I finally convinced her to back off. Martino shifted gears after that and started concentrating on finding you. I think the leak probably tipped him off that the FBI was close to finding you, too, so he just waited until he could get more inside information.”
“So he did and now, he’s close.” She leaned back against the door. “I’d rather he be after me than after Kristin.” Then she lifted up, her chin jutting out. “I could be a decoy to lure him out.”
“Absolutely not. No.”
“But—”
“Don’t mention that to me again, ever, Ellie.”
She was about to protest when his cell went off. He held up a finger then turned to answer it. “Agent McGraw?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Captain Lewis. Randall Parker just called me. He’s going to turn himself in—just for questioning at this point, but it’s a start.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. He said he’s tired of running and he wants protection. The Mob is after him.”
Jackson let out a long sigh. “Well, that is good news for us, at least. And, Captain, did you have time to go over that report my agent faxed you?”
“Sure did, sir. Looks like we have a case against Parker. We got a warrant about an hour ago to search his apartment and guess what we found in his closet?”
“The shoes he was wearing three years ago when he killed his first wife and put her in that hole?”
“Yep. The man apparently never throws anything away. And they are expensive shoes—in pretty good condition, too. We’ll do a plaster cast of both prints to be sure, but I can almost guess they’re gonna match perfectly. We gathered some other things from his apartment, too. We’ll analyze the climbing rope to see if we find any trace fibers to match what your lab found. I’d say he won’t be leaving after we get through questioning him.”
“Thanks, Captain Lewis. Let me know when you have him in custody.”
“Will do.”
Jackson shut the phone then turned to Eloise. “Parker’s giving up. He’s turning himself in. And the captain’s doing a comparison on the shoes we think Parker was wearing at both crime scenes and some other items they found at his apartment. He made a big mistake when he didn’t get rid of those shoes.”
Eloise sank against the door again. “Wow.”
“The Mob’s after him, apparently. He’s going to jail to seek protection.”
“Good luck with that,” she retorted. “So one down and a whole Mob to go.”
Jackson nodded. “Now at least we can concentrate on nailing Martino. Thea’s already connected the roses to a farm in South America. We have agents in place down there and I’m thinking they’re gonna find more growing on that remote farm than just pretty roses.”
“Such as?”
“Opium—for heroin for distribution in the States. We’ve been trying to link to Martino through some of the drugs coming into Chicago. We might have enough evidence to shut their whole operation down once and for all.”
She touched a finger to her scar. “That would be poetic justice, don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure about how poetic it would be, but I’ll settle for plain, old-fashioned FBI justice.”
She nodded, her hand on his arm. “You should have told me everything, Jackson.”
“I should have. But I didn’t. Let’s just get on with this so I won’t have to keep any more secrets from you, okay?”
“All right.” She stalked past him to the kitchen.
Jackson watched her then called out, “Hey, let’s get back to work, people.”
He heard a collective groan from the vicinity of the darkened sunporch.