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Chapter One Mary Jane Brooks understood the news was bad the moment she opened her door and saw the resigned slump of the detective’s shoulders. “We’ve confirmed that the—” Detective Brandon Bailen, Chicago PD, cleared his throat “—the remains are Rebecca’s.” Mary Jane’s heart plummeted and her knees weakened. Holding on to the doorframe was all that kept her vertical. “You’re certain there’s no mistake.” She moistened her trembling lips and struggled to hold back the tears. “Labs do make mistakes. I read about—” “There’s no mistake, Ms. Brooks.” Rebecca was dead. On some level Mary Jane had known for a while now that her sister was gone, but hearing the words somehow made it new…made it hurt so badly. “Thank you, Detective.” Mary Jane managed to draw in a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you know what happened? Was she—” working up the courage to say the word took monumental effort “—murdered?” Sympathy softened Bailen’s usually firm expression. He was a tall, thin man with stark features
Chapter One
Chapter Two Shane Allen stared at the blinking light on the telephone for five seconds, which lapsed into ten, then twenty before he decided to pick up the receiver. He didn’t want to take this call, now or ever, but he had little choice in the matter. He pressed the blinking button and said, “Shane Allen.” “Mr. Allen, this is Harry Rosen, attorney for—” “I know who you are,” Shane interrupted. He didn’t want to hear the man explain how he represented Shane’s ex-wife. He also didn’t want to hear how his petition for visitation rights was totally unfounded. It seemed impossible that the woman he had once loved could do this, but she had. Matt wasn’t his son, but Shane had loved him for three years as if he were. It just wasn’t fair that because the marriage had ended he was now supposed to stop loving the little boy and never see him again. Nor was it fair that his former partner was the reason his life had gone to hell in such a hurry. “Your attachment to Matthew is understandable,” Ro
Chapter Two
Chapter Three Shane Allen did not look like any of the U.S. Marshals Mary Jane had seen on television or in real life. Not that she had seen that many, but she had been interviewed by two shortly after her sister’s disappearance. Once the marshals had realized she didn’t know anything, they hadn’t visited or called again, nor had they returned her calls whenever she’d tried to get information about her sister’s case. Mr. Allen wore his hair long, almost to his shoulders. Dark and full, he made no effort to restrain the wavy length. A goatee on his chin drew her attention to the strong lines that delineated his square jaw. He looked not only dark…but dangerous. She resisted the urge to shiver. He was not at all what she had expected. Where was the tailored suit and polished oxfords? She’d noticed a couple of other Colby Agency employees while she had waited to see the woman in charge, and all had been dressed in a very businesslike manner. But not Mr. Allen. In contrast, he had worn jea
Chapter Three
Chapter Four Park Place Towers was in the vicinity of Lakeshore Boulevard and appeared just as upscale as it sounded. A gleaming high-rise with an exclusive setting amid one of Chicago’s wealthiest and most famous neighborhoods. Shane followed as Mary Jane parked her car next to the curb in front of the building’s main entrance. Again, he stationed his Harley behind her vehicle. While he removed his helmet and gloves, she climbed from behind the wheel of her car and studied the spare tire, made for emergencies, not aesthetics. Her shock had been palpable when she’d realized that he was right, someone had slashed her tire. He doubted the conservative teacher had ever experienced such an affront against her person or property. It was entirely possible that the vandalism had been random, but his instincts were buzzing with the opposite impression. Someone had sent the woman a warning. He wondered if she had already been receiving warnings and simply hadn’t recognized them as such. But the
Chapter Four
Chapter Five “How many ways are we going to go over this?” Mary Jane was exhausted. She dropped her head against the sofa back. She had told all she knew over and over. To the FBI. To the marshals involved with her sister’s case. To Detective Bailen. And now at least twice to Investigator Allen. Stationed in the chair across the coffee table from her, he leaned forward, the intensity in his eyes a stark counterpoint to her fatigue. “Ms. Brooks, I know this is difficult, but it’s also necessary. My goal is to reconstruct those final weeks of your sister’s life. To attempt to comprehend what might have been going through her mind. What her motivations were for any actions she did or didn’t take. Assuming she did, why did she call the Colby Agency? No one recalls speaking to her.” Mary Jane put up her hands to stop him. “How do we know she spoke with anyone? Maybe she hung up when the receptionist answered.” Fear might have kept Rebecca from going through with whatever request she’d hoped
Chapter Five
Chapter Six By midnight, Victoria Colby-Camp had assembled her two right-hand staff members, Ian Michaels and Simon Ruhl. Both men had been briefed on the recent developments. Shane paused as the woman next to him hesitated before entering the conference room. The past hour had been extremely difficult for Mary Jane Brooks. She had just learned that there was a possibility that her sister was not dead. As much as she wanted to believe this was good news, there was no evidence to support that conclusion as of yet. The one thing they knew with any certainty was that nothing about this case was what it appeared. There were far too many unknown variables. And if her sister wasn’t dead, where was she? Why hadn’t she contacted her only living relative? The dental hygienist, Cassie Scott, had asked not to be identified unless absolutely necessary. Shane wasn’t sure he could keep her name out of the investigation, but he would give it his best shot. The woman had turned her life around—going t
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven Shane swerved into the left lane and made a hard turn. The instant the rear wheels were back in line with the front, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. A glance in the rearview mirror told him they were still coming. At least two perps. The driver and a front-seat passenger. One weapon doing all the firing. “What’s happening?” “Stay down!” He pushed the sedan harder. The vehicle on his tail was a muscle car, lots of horses under the hood. A hell of a lot more than this meek midsize economy job. A shot pierced the rear window. Mary Jane screamed. Evasive maneuver to the right. Then left. Even at a speed of nearly one hundred miles per hour, Shane took his right hand off the wheel to reach for his cell phone. Another shot finished shattering the rear window. Glass spewed. Heat tore through his left forearm. He dropped the cell. Grabbed the steering wheel with his right hand as pain roared down his left arm. He was hit. Damn it. Mary Jane fumbled around in the floo
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight “Thanks, man.” Shane slapped the top of the car and it rolled away. Mary Jane’s gaze moved from the taillights disappearing down the street to the small house sitting on a postage stamp-size lawn. Craftsman-style bungalow. The streetlamp on the corner chased the shadows from the yard onto the porch. The neighborhood was quiet save for a dog barking three houses away. Apparently their arrival had awakened him from his sleep. There were about a dozen questions she wanted to ask as Shane ushered her up the walk to the steps, but she was too busy attempting to see the details through the darkness. He unlocked the door, reached inside and flipped a switch, then waited for her to go inside first. Three steps and one deep breath later and she knew for sure she was in his home. It smelled like him, like leather and earthy spices. The click of the latch and a chain sliding into place echoed behind her as he secured the door. She gasped as something brushed her leg. Then she smiled
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine At 8:00 a.m. sharp the knock came at Shane’s door. Simon Ruhl had arrived with a dossier on Jason Mackey and a bag of essential items from Mary Jane’s home. “Coffee?” Shane asked as he accepted the file. “No, thanks.” Ruhl set the overnight bag on the floor and glanced around the living room. “How is Ms. Brooks this morning?” Shane glanced toward the hall. “Still asleep. Yesterday wasn’t exactly a normal day in her life.” Not by any stretch of the imagination. Mary Jane Brooks was a quiet, conservative school teacher who took care of the ill and needy. A regular Florence Nightingale. The kind of woman who represented wholesome living and selfless giving. And still, she’d kept him from sleeping last night. Not a single thing about the ideas that churned in his brain had been wholesome or selfless. Mostly they’d been about getting so deep inside her that their bodies would be like one. Ruhl gestured to the bag at his feet. “Nicole assembled the essentials as well as changes
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten The street Rebecca had named was part of a neighborhood on the verge of extinction—the dilapidated homes were way overdue for demolition. This wasn’t exactly a safe place to be even during the daylight hours. Certainly not the sort of place he would expect Mary Jane’s sister to hang out. Shane didn’t like this, he didn’t like it one little bit. He’d put in a call to Simon Ruhl to let him know their destination and reason for going. Whether or not backup would be needed was yet to be seen. If Rebecca Brooks was here they didn’t want to risk spooking her. But he didn’t expect that to be the case. Mary Jane turned all the way around in her seat and surveyed the sad structures they passed. “Does anyone live here?” “Not legally.” He slowed as they neared the block designated by the call. “Homeless folks have taken over the slightly more livable properties, but even those aren’t safe. No running water or electricity. Roofs falling in. Not exactly decent living conditions.” “Why d
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven The key. Mary Jane sat in the middle of her living room floor and stared at the key in her palm. Ann Martin, Shane’s colleague from the Colby Agency, had determined that the key definitely came from a bank. But which one wasn’t known yet. Grasping the key in her right hand, she reached for the card with her left. She reread the single line for the third or fourth time. She couldn’t remember, she’d lost count. Maybe she’d read it a dozen times already. You know the place. “Bec, why did you do this?” Simon Ruhl had gone to the FedEx service center with a picture of Rebecca, and the clerk still couldn’t identify her as the woman who had mailed the package. But she couldn’t say it wasn’t her, either. Everything was going further and further out of control. The thirty-eight suspected of being used to kill Detective Bailen had been wiped clean of prints. Jose Torres’s girlfriend had vanished. And there hadn’t been any more calls to Mary Jane’s cell. The voice analysis on the o
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve She could see his mouth moving, but the words were so far away she couldn’t hear. Shane. The ground. She was lying on the cold asphalt. Mary Jane tried to sit up but he stopped her. “Don’t move.” She read his lips this time. Why did he sound so far away? There was a cut on his jaw. Blood dripped like crimson tears. What happened? His right hand pressed against her right side. She tried to move away from the pressure but pain arced through her and he pressed even harder so she kept still. Don’t move. Don’t move. Why did her body hurt so badly? The car. She turned her head to where the car sat. The hood was partially open, twisted and scrunched as if it had impacted with a tree. Had they hit something? She didn’t remember driving out of the parking lot. The memory of a horrific blast echoed in her head. Explosion. Her heart thumped against her sternum. Bomb? But they were okay…weren’t they? She tried to rise up again, but he stopped her. “You’ll be okay.” This time she cou
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen Mary Jane awakened to the scent of warm male flesh. She inhaled deeply and relished the smell and heat of the man lying next to her. He’d been so careful how he held her last night. He’d even insisted on sleeping to her left so that he wouldn’t accidentally bump her injury. It was early and he was still asleep. One muscular arm lay draped across her chest in a protective manner. She wanted so to trace the ripples and ridges of well-defined muscle along his chest and abdomen as she had last night but didn’t want to wake him. And she dreaded moving. She was sore from the impact with the asphalt, and her side ached fiercely. More painkillers would be nice, but she needed a clear head. Shane had told her about the plan Simon Ruhl would be setting in motion to lure the traitor out into the open. Sometime during the hours they’d held each other, he’d also warned her that both he and Simon had concluded that Rebecca was dead. The voice analysis had pretty much brought Mary Ja
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen Shane waited by the Ferris wheel at the Navy Pier. The wind sliced through him like a knife. It was 12:04. His cell phone hadn’t rung even once. If anything happened to Matt… He pushed the thought way. Couldn’t bear to even think it. Focus. He surveyed the die-hard shoppers and tourists rushing to and fro as if it weren’t freezing out. No one approached his position. His cell phone didn’t ring. Voices, conversations and laughter ran together, punctuating the grind and whir of rides and games. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy scented the chilly air, floating in off the water. To these folks it was just another day at the park. But for Shane…his world was coming apart. What the hell was going on with this son of a bitch? Why hadn’t he called or showed? Matt. His chest constricted. He had to be all right. At least Mary Jane was safe. She and Ann were at the lake house. He was thankful for that. But Matt…Anguish tore through him again. Who the hell could hurt a little
Chapter Fourteen
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