Don't Tell (2 page)

Winters released the boy’s hand and clamped his fingers around his dirty, scrawny neck, pushing him face forward into the street as the boy cradled his injured hand in his good one. „Her name?“

„I don’t – “ A strangled cry of pain cut off his pathetic denial. Winters lifted his thumb from the boy’s larynx. „Chaniqua,“ he gasped.

Winters’s boot connected with the boy’s hip. The boy rolled into a ball, crying like a baby. „Last name, you worthless“ – he kicked again, the tip of his boot catching the boy in the gut and flipping him to his back – „spineless, piece of shit.“

A faint moan floated on the air. „Pierce. Chaniqua Pierce. Cuts… hair. Down… town.“

Winters grimaced as the boy lost the contents of his stomach all over Winters’s boots. „You disgusting – “ Rage rose to mix with the disgust and he kicked the boy again. And again. And again. „Now you know how that old man felt curled up in a ball on his own floor dying in a pool of his own blood.“ He wiped a boot on the boy’s dirty pants, transferring most of the filth where it belonged. Then he aimed and kicked again, savagely. The boy’s scrawny body hit the brick wall and his eyes rolled backwards, blood flowing steadily from the corner of his mouth. A final kick to his head finished the job and the boy shuddered out his last breath.

Winters drew a deep breath and wiped his other dirty boot on the boy’s shirt.

One less punk on the streets. He considered it a job well done. He peeled the thin latex gloves from his hands and tossed them in the third dumpster he passed. One could never be too careful with street punks. Nasty diseases all over the damn street.

By the time he’d walked the quarter mile to his parked truck he’d pulled the cotton from the gap between his cheeks and molars, the false overbite from his upper palate, and the gray wig from his head. Nobody could tie him to that punk even if anyone cared enough to call the police. He cast a brief look up and down the street before carefully putting his wig away. He changed his boots, stowing the fouled pair in the back with a frown. They were his best ones. Then he shrugged. Sue Ann would clean them later. He swung up into the driver’s seat, ten feet tall and bulletproof.

It was time to pay a visit to Miz Chaniqua Pierce.

He’d driven less than five minutes when his pager buzzed against his hip. He glanced at the number from the corner of his eye while keeping his gaze pinned to the low-lifes that skulked about in the hours most decent people were in their beds. Dammit to hell. Couldn’t that bitch leave him alone for five minutes? He pulled his phone from his pocket with a snarl, punched in her number.

„Ross.“

Winters ground his teeth. Ross, as in Lieutenant. As in Q-U-O-T-A, written in big black letters. As in the bitch that stole the job that should have been his.

He injected as much oozing sincerity into his voice as he could muster on a semi-full stomach. „Winters. What’s up?“

„The same thing that was up the last six times I paged you in the past hour. What seems to be more important than returning my calls, Detective?“

Winters drew a breath. She’d written him up for insubordination once already. Insubordination. The very thought made his stomach burn as rage ate at him. He’d been „warned.“ Warned, goddammit, by some incompetent bitch with an ass the size of South Carolina. He managed to control his tone, barely. „I was with an informant, Lieutenant.“

„Did you find Jones?“

„No, but I know where he is.“

„Care to share it with me?“

So she could send in one of her handpicked ass-sucking favorites to make the bust? No fucking way. „I’d prefer to wait until I’m certain.“

„I guess you would. I prefer you tell me now.“

Bitch. „He’s with his girlfriend.“

There was a short, tight silence on the other end. Small victory, he thought. „Does this girlfriend have a name, Detective? And please don’t play games with me again. I want answers and I want them now.“

Winters bit down so hard his teeth hurt. „Her name is Chaniqua Priest.“ Or Pierce. The kid was gurgling there towards the end. He could have said Priest.

„You have a location?“

„Just downtown.“

„Helpful, Detective. Keep your informant available in case we have more questions.“

Winters swallowed the chuckle. His informant was now answering questions at the business end of a fiery pitchfork. „Yes, sir,“ he said, knowing the „sir“ pissed her off more than anything else, but technically was not something she could get him on. „Did you have a particular reason for paging me, Lieutenant Ross?“

„Yeah. You got a call from a Sheriff Hutchins, Sevier County, Tennessee. He says it’s urgent you call him.“ She rattled off the number and he memorized it instantly. He had a good memory for numbers and names. He’d been through SevierCounty on his way to Gatlinburg, but he’d never heard of Hutchins.

Winters pulled into the first convenience store parking lot he saw and punched in Hutchins’s number. The sheriff was available, his assistant told him, if he’d please hold. Winters grumbled as he waited. This had better be important, he thought. He was using up cell phone minutes waiting on this yahoo. Finally the illustrious sheriff came to the phone, huffing and puffing.

„Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Officer Winters,“ he said and Winters could hear the creaking of a chair in the background as the sheriff apparently sat down.

„It’s Detective Winters,“ he corrected sharply. Didn’t Ross tell him that? Bitch.

„Oh, sorry. Your lieutenant told me you’d been promoted. My brain’s a little fried at the moment. We’ve been draggin’ DouglasLake all day lookin’ for an accident victim and I just had the pleasure of tellin’ his parents.“

„That’s a shame,“ Winters offered, rolling his eyes.

„But what does that have to do with you, huh? Listen, Winters, when we were dragging the lake we came up with something else. I thought you should know before the bureaucrats get involved.“

Winters listened and suddenly Lieutenant Ross and Alonzo Jones were the last things on his mind.

They’d found his car. Seven years of helpless fury came rushing back with the force of a freight train. They’d found his car, but his boy was not inside.

Neither was his wife.

Chapter Two

Chicago

Monday, March 5

7 a.m.

„So what’s the occasion?“

Caroline jerked, sending her mascara wand skittering up her forehead, leaving a thick black line in its wake. She turned her head deliberately, mouth bent down in a frown, eyes narrowed. She hated the nervous reaction time had failed to diminish. Made her feel like a stranger in her own skin. She drew a breath and slid the wand back into the mascara tube.

„You know not to do that.“

Dana leaned against the bedroom doorjamb, arms loosely crossed, one eyebrow elevated. „Sorry.“ One corner of her mouth turned up. „You look like a lopsided raccoon.“

Caroline blew out a sigh as she surveyed her ruined makeup in the mirror. „I don’t need this today, Dana. I’m stressed enough without you sneaking up behind me.“ She fumbled in her drawer for a tube of eye makeup remover.

Dana stiffened. „I didn’t sneak. I called your name when I came in the apartment and talked to Tom for five minutes before I came back here. You just weren’t listening. Oh, for crying out loud, Caro. You don’t have to make such a production about it. Just wipe it off.“

Caroline closed one eye and scrubbed. „I can’t. It’s waterproof.“

„I hate that waterproof stuff.“ Dana leaned over Caroline’s dresser and picked up the tube of mascara. „Since when did you start using waterproof mascara?“

Caroline took the tube from her hand and focused on redoing the job. „Since Eli died.“

Dana’s face fell. „I’m sorry, Caroline. I didn’t think.“

Caroline closed the drawer with a snap. „It’s okay. You’d think I’d be over it by now, but I can’t seem to get through a day without at least a sniffle or two.“

„It’s only been two months, honey.“

„Two months and twelve days.“ Eli Bradford had been her teacher, her boss, her friend. Besides Dana and Tom, Eli had been the only other person in the world to know her deepest secret. Her throat tightened in the now-familiar response to any memory of the man who’d been the closest thing to a father she’d ever had. Now he was gone and she missed him more than she thought possible. She made herself think of something else. „Well, now that you’ve invaded my space, how do I look?“

Dana pursed her lips and tipped her auburn head to one side, playing along with Caroline’s need to change the subject. „Your roots are showing. You need a touch-up.“

Caroline leaned forward to stare at the top of her head. Sure enough, a thin ribbon of gold ran along the part in her hair in stark contrast with the coffee brown waves. „Darn it. I just did my roots two weeks ago.“

„I told you not to choose such a dark color. But did you listen to me? Noooo.“

„Smartass. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.“ Quickly she braided it back, hiding most of the telltale gold.

Dana shook her head. „It’s too dark. It’s always been too dark. You should lighten it.“

„Da-na.“ It was a sigh of exasperation Caroline didn’t even try to hide.

„Caro-line.“ Dana mimicked her tone, then sobered. „After all this time you still think you need to hide behind that hair color?“

„Better safe than sorry.“ It was her stock response.

„How true,“ Dana murmured, her eyes downcast for just a moment She looked back up, still serious. „You could lighten it just a little. The contrast makes your face seem so pale. Especially this time of year, coming out of the winter.“

„Thanks a lot.“

Dana grinned and the atmosphere in the room suddenly brightened. „Don’t mention it. But I do like the sweater. The blue matches your eyes.“

„Too little, too late, my friend. And I do use that term loosely.“ It was the farthest thing from the truth and they both knew it. Dana’s unique combination of laughter and sobriety had pulled Caroline through many a dark day. They were best friends. And having gone so many years so totally alone, Caroline Stewart was fully aware of the value of a best friend like Dana Dupinsky. They didn’t come any better, smarter or more loyal. Caroline slid her feet into a pair of low-heeled pumps. „Can you tell these are $10.99 Pay-less specials?“

Dana squinted, looking down at Caroline’s feet. „No. Why all the fuss this morning? And to bring us full circle – what’s the occasion?“

„My new boss starts today. I just want to make a good impression.“ She turned sideways in the mirror, inspecting the final package. „I want to look professional without overdoing it.“ She peered more closely. „Do you think these earrings are too Saturday night?“

Dana snorted. „Those earrings are the closest you’ve ever come to a Saturday night, girl.“

„Don’t nag me on my love life now. Just answer the question.“

„You don’t have a love life, Caroline. And they’re fine. Don’t worry. You look wonderful. You are a terrific secretary. Your new boss will be impressed.“

Caroline sighed. „I hope so. I got so used to working for Eli. I knew what he wanted before he even asked for it. I really need to keep this job, just until graduation.“ After graduation, she’d be off to law school, the day-to-day worries of managing the CarringtonCollege history office a thing of the past.

„You’ll be fine.“

Caroline glared mildly from the corner of her eye. „You always say that.“

„I’m always right.“

Caroline smiled. „You’re such a fathead.“

„But I’m a fathead who’s right.“

„That you are.“ She stepped closer to the mirror and pushed the turtleneck collar of her sweater aside, inspecting the side of her neck.

„You can’t see them,“ Dana said softly. „Stop worrying.“

Caroline let her collar spring back into place and straightened her spine. „Then I’m ready to meet Dr. Maximillian Alexander Hunter.“

Dana laughed. „That’s his name? He sounds like he should be a four-hundred-year-old history professor.“

„He is a history professor.“

„My point exactly.“

Caroline shrugged. „He’s probably no older than Eli was. As long as I don’t have to work for Monika Shaw, Hunter could be a four-hundred-year-old stuffed kangaroo and I’d still be a happy woman.“

She started for the kitchen, Dana at her heels. „How’s old Shaw-claw taking it?“

Caroline snickered, then her face went serious as she saw Tom sitting at the tiny dinette eating Cheerios. He must go through a box a day. At fourteen he was growing more and more, truly eating her out of house and home. She put on her „mom“ voice. „You must stop calling her Shaw-claw, Dana.“

„Give it a rest, Mom,“ Tom said, his spoon pausing mid-lift. „I saw you laughing.“

„Doh!“ Caroline ruffled his wiry blond hair. Cut short in a crewcut it felt like a scrub brush, tickling her palm. „Busted. You need to hurry or you’ll – “

„Miss the bus,“ Tom finished. He shoveled another four spoonfuls in his mouth before grabbing his backpack. „Gotta go. I got practice after school, Mom. I won’t be home until five.“

„Be – “

„Careful,“ he finished with a saucy grin. „You too. Good luck with Hunter today.“ His smile faltered. „And be careful with Shaw, okay?“

Caroline reached up to cup his cheek. At six-one Tom’s cheek was almost out of her reach. „I will. I told you not to worry. Shaw can’t hurt us. She’s mean and vindictive, but it’s more likely I’ll win the Nobel peace prize than that Shaw will take the time to dig up our family secrets. Don’t worry, honey. Please.“

Tom frowned, his blue eyes stormy with a mixture of fear and anger. „Don’t you ever worry at all?“

Caroline studied his face, a replica of her own. Fate had been kind to them that way. If he’d looked like him, he would have been so much more difficult to hide. „Yes, I worry,“ she replied honestly. They’d been through so much together he deserved nothing less than the truth. „Sometimes I get through a day without worrying he’s going to jump out from behind some bush and drag me back, but those days are few and far between. There are days I wish we could go back and hide at Hanover House, but I know Dana would kick our butts out on the street.“ She saw the glimmer of a smile in his eyes and knew humor had taken the edge off his fear, as usual.