The Murder That Never Was

  “It’s not your job to escape,” Emma replied. “It’s our job to give you back your freedom. And we will. We’ve got our FBI contact fully on board now. He’s a get-it-done guy, just like the rest of us. I can’t get into his exact role, because we owe him the same confidentiality we owe you. But he’s got skills, contacts, and experience. Trust me—he’s the best.”

  Emma stopped to take a healthy swallow of her own water, using that time to regroup. The outer layer of the onion had just been peeled away.

  It was enough for now.

  No surprise that Lisa had other ideas.

  “Can you tell me something about this FBI agent and what he’s doing on our case?” she asked, spreading her arms wide, palms turned up in frustration.

  “Like I said, there’s not much I’m at liberty to say.” Emma shifted in her seat, gazing through the glass pane that separated Lisa’s office from the rest of the gym. “Plus, I don’t think we should get into anything heavy while we’re here. Not only is our privacy limited but we only have fifteen minutes. I’d rather just hang out and then have some fun with you and this spin class. Afterwards, we can grab some takeout, head back to your apartment, and get into your concerns when we’re all together. I promise I’ll tell you everything I can. Okay?”

  “I guess that works.” Lisa sounded reluctant but resigned. “There’s a great Chinese place a block away if you like Chinese.”

  “Like it? I’d kill for some General Tso’s chicken. Add some great house special fried rice, an egg roll, and a super-hot guy to pay for it, and my life is complete.”

  Lisa began to laugh, and Emma gave herself a pat on the back. She knew that when she turned on her whole youthful enthusiasm thing, it was infectious. It also humanized her and inspired trust. She could already sense that Lisa’s paranoia about being kept out of the loop was abating. Emma had to capitalize on that, not only with Lisa but with Shannon, as well.

  “Oh, Emma, you’re such a breath of fresh air,” Lisa said. “I can’t tell you how much this visit means to me.”

  “Enough to pay for General Tso’s?” Emma’s eyes were twinkling.

  “I’m not a super-hot guy,” Lisa reminded her.

  “Oh, well. You can’t have everything.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “But, hey, I’ll settle for a free meal anytime.”

  A pained expression crossed Lisa’s face, and Emma recognized it immediately. She herself had worn it many times, and it had nothing to do with the investigation. “It never completely goes away, does it?” Lisa murmured.

  “The memory of being on the streets and grabbing anything you can because you’re afraid it won’t come around again—including something to fill your belly and make that horrible gnawing pain disappear?” Emma was right there with Lisa, connecting in a way that few others could. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Lisa fidgeted with her water bottle. “Julie paid for my lunch the day I met her. She watched me wolf down a burger and fries like some kind of wild animal, and she knew my whole resume was bullshit. What’s worse, I knew that she knew, but I didn’t care. I was just so hungry.” Glancing up, Lisa met Emma’s damp-eyed gaze. “She was very good to me, better than anyone had been in a long time. I relive that day, and the day she was killed, and I feel guilty all the time.”

  Emma reached over and squeezed Lisa’s hand. “But now you know her death wasn’t your fault. No one was after you. They were after her.”

  “I know.” A pause, and Emma got the feeling that Lisa was about to say something she’d thought long and hard about.

  Her next words proved Emma right. But their content stunned the hell out of her.

  “When all this is over, I’m going to do the right thing.” Lisa’s tone was firm. “I’m not going to run. Neither is Milo. I’m going to give Julie back her identity, and all the respect that goes with it. Shannon isn’t the only one who cared for her. Her other students, maybe a bunch of friends—they all did, too. She deserves to be mourned, not resented for taking off without a word. And, once Forensic Instincts exposes whoever’s running this PED operation, Julie can be acknowledged for the brave and heroic woman she was.”

  Emma blinked. “Lisa,” she blurted out. “You understand what that means for you, right? Leaving the scene of a crime is a felony. So is identity theft, stealing someone’s inheritance…”

  “And I’ll probably go to jail for it all,” Lisa interrupted to finish Emma’s thought. “I know. But I won’t go on living a lie. And I won’t let the world keep thinking the worst of Julie. She didn’t take off. She was murdered.”

  Before Emma could respond, a buzzer went off on Lisa’s iPhone, and she rose from her chair. “Spin class time,” she said, striving for a lighter tone. “Time for me to see what you’ve got.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Slava had found a dirt alcove diagonally across from Julie Forman’s apartment building, where he’d parked the van. The area was concealed by trees and scarcely noticeable. He settled himself behind the wheel and opened a newspaper, looking as if he were hanging out waiting for someone—which, in fact, he was.

  He had three quarries: Julie Forman, Shannon Barker, and whatever security team was keeping an eye on them. His own new hires were hovering around the gym. They’d informed him that the Forman woman was inside. Now they’d wait, advising him immediately if she left.

  So for now it was the Barker girl and the bodyguards he was looking for—more the latter than the former. He doubted the Barker kid would be coming out anytime soon. After nearly being kidnapped, she was probably quaking inside Forman’s place. Plus, she probably didn’t have any great insight into what she was being protected from. Feds, cops, and PIs weren’t in the habit of briefing teenagers on anything more than the basics. At least one of them had to be armed and stationed either right outside or inside the apartment unit. There’d be another couple of them in or around the parking lot, keeping a watchful eye.

  Not a challenge for Slava. He’d spot them. Analyze them. Pick out the weakest link. Then he’d wait until the guy was heading off for a break. He’d drag him into the van and use whatever methods of torture were necessary until he got his answers.

  After that, he’d slit the guard’s throat and take care of his body before reporting back to Max.

  He hunched down in his seat and waited.

  Forty-five minutes later, his plans changed.

  A phone call from his guys told him that the Forman woman was on her way home. And she had a friend with her.

  Surveilling the guards could wait. Something better was being delivered right into his hands. This was going to be one hell of a party.

  Lisa was actually laughing as she and Emma approached the apartment. They were carrying bags of tantalizing-smelling Chinese food, and Emma had her backpack slung over her arm. She was telling Lisa a story about when she was a kid and had bitten into one end of an eggroll, squirting its contents all over the waiter.

  “I’d never tasted an eggroll before,” she was saying. “How did I know it was filled with so much stuff, or that the shell was so breakable?” She wrinkled her nose. “It blew out of the back end like a cannonball. The waiter stumbled backwards, then slipped and fell. He was okay—he got up in one piece—but he was gritting his teeth and spitting out words in Chinese. I’m sure he was swearing at me. Anyway, my parents didn’t punish me, but we never went back to that place again. I guess we weren’t welcome.”

  “Yeah, I’d guess not,” Lisa agreed.

  Both women dissolved into giggles as they walked through the parking lot and into the apartment building.

  That fucking, fucking bitch.

  Slava’s entire body was coiled with rage. It pounded through his body, coursed through his blood. He could barely see past it.

  But he’d seen enough.

  He’d known her the instant he saw her, e
ven in her workout clothes, carrying that ridiculous backpack. And that voice—how could he forget it? It had haunted his dreams and heated his loins since she’d promised to call him, walked out of the building, and disappeared off the grid.

  No one deceived him like this. No one. He was too smart to be taken in by a slut who was really a cop. But he’d been thinking with his dick, not his brain. He’d bought her coffee. She’d walked out with the cup and probably his DNA. She knew who he was and what he was.

  Well, he was about to know a hell of a lot more than her name.

  Fuck the surveillance. Fuck the Forman woman and the Barker girl. Fuck all his strategic plans.

  He was getting his hands on Isabella.

  The Chinese food was consumed in record time.

  As they ate, Emma explained to Lisa, Miles, and Shannon where things stood on the case—precisely the way Casey had told her to. She started with the fact that Shannon was part of a big medical experiment involving designer PEDs and a whole bunch of targets. Quickly, she reassured them that FI was on the brink of uncovering the mastermind who was orchestrating the whole operation, along with whoever he had working for him—and that included not just Shannon’s attempted kidnappers and those surveilling them but the Jim Robbinses all over the country, who were the reapers of this medical experiment.

  Emma finished her update by giving her word to Lisa, Miles, and Shannon that this nightmare would be over in days, not weeks, after which they’d all be safe.

  Of course they had questions. They wanted details about the monster running the show, about precisely how Forensic Instincts planned on bringing him down, and about how their mysterious FBI contact fit into the picture.

  Emma deflected the questions by stressing the sensitivity of the situation and the need to keep them safe by telling them as little as possible.

  “Trust me,” she said with her customary frankness. “I’ve never lied to you, steered you wrong, or placated you—and I’m not doing any of that now. I’m helping my team put an end to this. Please, let us do our job. Once it’s over and you’re safe, I’ll personally tell you every single outstanding detail.”

  “Emma, you know how I feel about you.” Lisa shoved aside her empty plate and shook her head. “I trust you implicitly. But it’s our lives that are at stake. We have the right to know everything—now, not later.”

  “Leave it, Lis.” Miles surprised Emma by stepping in and helping her cause. He looked deeply pensive, staring at Emma as if focusing in on her thoughts and succeeding in reading them. “Forensic Instincts is afraid that, if we know the whos and the whats of the situation, we’ll jump in and do something stupid that could jeopardize their entire plan. And, given our mental states, they’re probably right.”

  He turned to meet Lisa’s frightened gaze. “Think about it.” He put a soothing hand on her arm. “Can you swear that if you knew who all the players were you’d just sit still and stay put? I know I couldn’t.”

  Lisa’s gaze faltered. “I… No,” she admitted. “I couldn’t make that promise.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and there were tears shimmering on her lashes when she opened them. “I just want this to be over.”

  “And it will be.” Emma was speaking to Lisa. But she was watching Shannon in her peripheral vision. The young girl was openly weeping, her body trembling with fear.

  Instinctively, Emma reached over and gripped Shannon’s hands. “Don’t be afraid, Shannon. No one will hurt you again. You’re safe here. And soon you’ll be able to stop living like a prisoner. I promise.”

  “I just want to go home.” Shannon’s choked words reminded them all that, despite her maturity and bravado, she was still a sixteen-year-old girl who had been pushed beyond her limits. “I miss my family. I miss my friends. I want to be normal again.” A sob escaped her. “As normal as I can be with the damage that’s been done to my body and the stuff I’ve gone through.”

  “You’ll go back to seeing that great therapist you said you were visiting right after your accident—the one Julie referred you to,” Lisa said, her attention shifting from her own unease to Shannon’s. “Dr. Hawke, right? She was helping you a lot. She’ll help you now. You’ll get through this. We all will.”

  “I guess.” Shannon took a huge shuddering breath.

  “We have a bond, Shannon, one that’s formed by going through a life crisis together.” Lisa reached over to tuck a hair behind Shannon’s ear, giving her a small smile. “That’s not going away. Miles and I are your friends for life.”

  Shannon managed a smile in return. She dashed away her tears and even finished the last of her fried rice.

  “Okay, enough drama. Subject closed.” Emma popped up and began clearing the table. “I came here today for two reasons—one, to fill you in, which I just did. And, two, to spend some fun time together.” She pointed at her backpack. “I brought some mindless DVDs with me. Plus I just downloaded some new apps on my iPad—games we can play against each other.” She arched a brow in Miles’ direction. “I expect you to cut us some slack. If you start winning every game, I’m taking away your iPad and tossing your iPhone out the window.”

  A broad grin spread across Miles’ face. “As long as you pre-acknowledge my superiority, I’ll agree to that.”

  Emma rolled her eyes, turning off the kitchen faucet. “You sound just like Ryan; it’s nauseating.” That made her remember Ryan’s offer. “By the way, while this big reveal is going on, Ryan said you could contact him with any questions you have. I guess he figures great minds should stick together.”

  Miles looked relieved and pleased. “Thanks, Emma—for the offer and the compliment. It’s good to know that Ryan’s got my back.”

  “We all do.” Emma picked up her backpack and dumped out the DVDs. “Okay, Shannon, you get first pick.”

  Across the street from the building, Slava stared at the apartment window, his eyes still blazing. If anything, his rage had intensified as the couple of hours had passed.

  It had taken him about ten minutes to figure out who the security detail was on Isabella. The guy had been following her and the Forman woman—a respectable distance away—as they arrived at the apartment building. And he’d been perched on a nearby bench ever since—talking on his cell phone, working on his tablet, scrolling through some fascinating material. All amateur bullshit to Slava. The guy reeked of law enforcement. When the time came, Slava would have to put him out of commission. Temporary, permanent—it didn’t matter. Whatever was quicker. Screw the interrogations. Screw his orders from Max. He was burning to get his hands around that fucking bitch’s throat.

  Her throat and a whole lot more.

  It was after three o’clock, and Emma remembered her promise to Casey. Be back at four. Gotcha, boss.

  With hugs all around, she shoved all the things she’d brought into her backpack, gave her promise to call the second things were over, and headed out.

  She said a quick good-bye to Patrick’s security detail, posted just inside and outside of the apartment, and left the building. She trekked through the parking lot, spotting Brian casually reading on the sidewalk bench. She had no doubt he was totally aware of her and of the time. He’d wait for her to cross the street and then follow her to the train station and back to the Forensic Instincts brownstone.

  Without so much as glancing in his direction, she looked to the left and to the right. The street was empty. No traffic. Great.

  She stepped into the road.

  Slava had turned the van’s ignition key the instant he’d spotted her leaving the building. Now he remained, hunched down, waiting for the exact moment he needed.

  There it was.

  Isabella was three-quarters of the way across the street. Her guard had risen to follow. Slava eased the van out of its alcove. The guy took one step. Then two. Then he was off the sidewalk and into the street. Three steps more and he was too f
ar from the curb to jump back to safety.

  Slava floored the gas.

  He saw the stunned expression on the man’s face as the van plowed into him, sending his body crashing into the windshield and then careening off to the roadside, where he lay, unmoving.

  Isabella spun around, her backpack toppling to the sidewalk as her hands flew up to her face and she let out a voiceless scream.

  The rest happened in a burst of activity.

  Slava swerved the van over and leapt out. Grabbing Isabella around the waist, he clamped his big hand over her mouth. He flung her into the van, shoved her aside as he jumped back into the driver’s seat, and screeched off.

  He watched her struggle to a sitting position, his expression smug as he waited for her to see who her kidnapper was.

  Recognition was immediate.

  Her eyes found him, and they grew round with shock and fear.

  Slava’s smile was pure evil, his Russian accent thick. “Hello, Isabella. It is time for that date we never had.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Marc and Ryan were arguing over strategy, and Claire was fidgeting in her seat with some inner growing agitation when Patrick’s cell phone rang.

  “Yes, John,” he answered. Frowning, he covered his other ear with his palm. “Speak up. I can barely hear you, it’s so loud. What the hell is going on there?” A pause, and Patrick lurched off the chair, firing questions into the phone. “Mowed down? What’s his condition? What about… He took her? Did you get the van’s license plate? Is there anything left on the scene but the backpack?” Another pause. “I’m assuming Mountainside Hospital? I’m leaving now. I’ll meet you there. If there’s a medical assessment before I show up, find out when he’ll be up to talking.”

  All eyes were on Patrick as he slammed down his phone.

  “Slava Petrovich got to Emma,” he said, his expression grim. “He ran down Brian and took Emma right off the street. Brian’s in an ambulance on his way to the local hospital. And Emma is…gone.”