Mama Said (21 page)

“Where is it? And how does it all connect with what’s going on? And more importantly, why didn’t he show the video to somebody himself instead of leaving town?”

“The video Annie did on her own. She was supposed to follow him out of town later. When he found out she had been killed, he tried to get in touch with me. When I wasn’t answering my phone and he heard what happened, he contacted Donna, hoping she knew another way to reach me.”

She mulled everything he said over in her mind. It all fit together except she sensed he was leaving something out. A large chunk of information was missing.

“And?”

“What do you mean?”

“The obvious. Where’s the video?”

“She hid it.”

“Duh. Where? And what’s on it?”

“He thinks she hid it at the Blues Stop.”

“The Blues Stop? That doesn’t make any sense. The police would have found it by now.”

“I’m just repeating what he told me.” He gave her a forced smile. “He said Annie knew about a secret compartment behind the bar safe and figures she probably put it there.”

“I hate to be the harbinger of doom, but do you think the fact that there’s a price on our heads might be incentive for him to lie? He could very well be setting us up. Besides, we don’t know what’s on the video.” She finished off the rest of her breakfast and chased it down with the remainder of her coffee.

“That’s why I’m taking everything he says with caution. Unlike us, he’s got nothing to lose.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Go to the Blues Stop and check it out.”

“What?” Her heart started its newly adopted staccato rhythm. “That’s too dangerous. The police have to be crawling all over that place. Maybe we should wait for Garrett or somebody else.” Like Patrick, or her brother Enrique, or Joaquin. Anybody, not just the two of them. “Did you check to see if Vince sent you an e-mail under that secret name?” Surely there had to be another way, even if she knew their time was running out.

“Haven’t checked.” He shrugged. “The Blues Stop is our only lead so far.”

“We can’t get into the Blues Stop. There’s probably an army of cops guarding the place, and we don’t know they haven’t already found it. Besides, you are still not one hundred percent.”

“I’m fine.” Shane’s jaw clenched tight. Obviously, he didn’t like being reminded of his weakened state. “In my experience there are three types of guys when on a mission.”

She didn’t know what had gotten him in such a snit all of a sudden. It was almost as if he were purposely trying to make her mad.

“I’m assuming you mean guys in a strictly gender-neutral sense?”

He nodded, oblivious to her dour expression. Since she knew he was seeing much better than he had over the last few days, he must be ignoring her glare. “As I was saying, there are three types of guys—the seers, the doers, and the talkers.”

“I see where the moral of this story is headed. Please save me from the punch line or risk bodily harm.” She folded her arms across her chest and contemplated hiding the penicillin she’d worked so hard to get for him.

“The seers observe, they get the lay of the land, strategize and report back. The doers do just that—they take care of the operation and get the job done. Then there’s the talkers—yap, yap, yap. Nothing gets accomplished.”

“Excuse me. Are you trying to tell me something?” This guy would irritate Mother Theresa. Put him in a room with her for five minutes and she’d be a changed woman, drinking, swearing, and throwing the nearest inanimate object at his head.

“There can be only one chief, and I’m it. So let me do what I do best.” He slid back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“Any moment now I’m expecting you to bang on your chest and grunt. Maybe swing from the trees outside.” All she’d been thinking about for the last several days was for Shane to be well so he could take charge and let her off the hook, but now that it was starting to happen, she couldn’t help thinking she might have a better handle on the situation than he did. It might sound a little crazy, but a part of her saw real logic in what she was thinking.

“What are you trying to say?” A slight smile pulled up the edges of his mouth, as if he could no longer put up the tough guy pretext with her.

“I’m saying there’s so much testosterone flowing right now I might grow facial hair from the latent effects alone.”

“But that’s what I do. I take charge. It’s who I am. Take it or leave it.”

She rolled her eyes and hoped he’d get the hint. “But you don’t need to go off doing your Tarzan crap. Sometimes a slow, methodical approach utilizing a little conversation works better.”

“And I suppose you’re the one who could best accomplish that task?” His left eyebrow rose.

“Finally, we agree on something.” She plastered an innocent smile on her face. This was not the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

“I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand perfectly. Because you have a penis and are halfway well, you think you can take over and leave me out of things because you believe I’m an incompetent idiot.”

He glanced down at the zipper of his pants. “That’s not what I said.”

“Sometimes it’s what you don’t say that tells the real tale.” She huffed and contemplated why she’d suddenly become so territorial about her ideas. “You think you know best and I should fall in line behind you.”

“I’m saying I have more experience, that’s all.”

“Then why the speech? Why not bark out orders regardless of my feelings? Regardless of the fact I’ve saved your life more than once. Regardless of the fact I was scared to death when those cops were chasing me across campus but still worried you might be killed while I was gone.” She figured she’d lay a little guilt on him to get him to come clean. He was hiding something from her.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ve done nothing but worry about you for the last five days. Despite what you think, you’re still not one hundred percent. And you’re still wrong about Patrick.”

“What does he have to do with this?” he huffed. “Besides, I’d rather die than ask him for help.”

“But the question is, would you rather me die as well? Because I hate to break it to you, fellow, but it might come down to that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It wasn’t as if Shane didn’t have enough guilt hanging around his neck to last a couple of lifetimes. If it weren’t for him, she’d be doing her thing and making hoards of men fall into lust as soon as she walked on stage and started singing. Instead, she’d been risking her life to take care of him.

He should have known this would happen. Anything he touched had a way of going south real quick, starting with his mother. She’d loved him unconditionally and that had only led her to a life filled with marital infidelity and tragic death.

Then there was the day Garrett had nearly died due to Shane’s ineptness. He’d been the one who thought he could finesse information out of that woman despite Garrett’s reticence. Shane had set up the meeting. He’d turned on the charm and coerced her into coming to the remote location to exchange information. But in the end, she’d gone after Garrett with a butcher knife, determined to kill them both. He still didn’t know why. Luckily, he’d intervened and stepped in the middle to take the brunt of her attack.

Now he had to worry about Gabriella as well. The thought of something happening to her shook him to his core. Which is why he had to keep her far away from his plans. She couldn’t know what he was up to.

It had nothing to do with him not trusting her, but no doubt she’d think he needed help, either hers, or worse yet, Patrick’s.

* * *

While Gabriella ruminated on a way to negotiate around the problem, Shane was working out in the gym set up on the ground floor. Since she heard a whole lot of swearing coming from that room, she guessed his recovery wasn’t progressing as quickly as he’d anticipated.

She logged onto the Internet and did a little research, looking up old newspaper articles on the Marcos case. Out of curiosity, she checked Shane’s e-mail. He probably would regret he gave her his account name and pass code if he knew what she was up to. But she couldn’t help herself.

She spotted the message from H. Mann and read it. Then re-read it. Maybe she was wrong about the name because the message made no sense. ‘A new US 10.28.1952.’ What could that possibly mean? It was kind of like spam mail, but somehow she knew it wasn’t.

He was keeping something from her. The question was what. Assuming it came from Vince, he wouldn’t have bothered sending an inconsequential e-mail.

What did Shane plan on doing about it? And where did Walt fit into this? Or did he?

The part that wasn’t in question was why Shane was keeping her in the dark. He felt a need to protect her, which in the past she could have understood. But hadn’t she proved herself over the last few days?

That was a pretty new phenomenon for her. Couldn’t he see that? Or was she just deluding herself into thinking things had gone well? Maybe it was dumb luck she’d managed to avoid trouble thus far.

Still, she couldn’t help thinking about what had happened in 1952 and what it might have to do with the trouble they were in right now. It made no kind of sense, but at the same time she knew it wasn’t inconsequential. Maybe, even though it was written as a date, it wasn’t. But what else could it stand for?

She re-examined the newspaper reports on the Tony Marcos case to see if there was some kind of connection. Just as Shane had said, the kid was charged with armed robbery and murder. He was accused of resisting arrest, resulting in the death of a police officer.

Somehow there had to be more to the story. Why were both Vince Perry and Shane so convinced of this kid’s innocence? And why was half the Chicago police force determined to prove the opposite? The logical answer was they wanted revenge. Nothing got a cop’s blood pumping more than an attack on a fellow officer.

But why go after her and Shane? How had they become embroiled in the mess? And where was the tie-in to the Blues Stop?

She needed help. Who knew better about dirty cops than one of their fellow officers?

Maybe while Shane was in the gym, she should call Patrick. Could she trust him? Maybe he’d know something. Donna said he wanted to talk to her, that he had information. Or was that just to trap them?

Okay, thinking like that sucked big time. She definitely needed to stay more positive.

While Shane was torturing his body with every machine in the Ryans’ arsenal of fitness equipment, she did her own bout of self-torture. Gabriella called the one person who could cause a conflict of biblical proportions between her and Shane.

The good thing about the size of this house was there was plenty of space for her to roam and remain out of earshot of Shane. He was hard at work on the treadmill now while she was feeling like crap talking to his brother in the library.

“Gabriella, where are you?”

Right away, that question brought out goose bumps along her arms. Maybe it was just the natural thing to say, but maybe it was something more sinister. “I can’t say.”

He huffed out a breath. “You need to let me help you or you’ll both be dead.”

Nothing like a gloom-and-doom prediction to make her even more nervous. “What’s this about?”

“I have a friend in Internal Affairs, and while she can’t say much, there’s a big investigation going down. I know it involves the Blues Stop.”

She hiccupped. “Maybe if we wait, it will all work out.”

“These things take time. It took six years and a couple of billion dollars to prove cops were torturing suspects to get confessions, even though the evidence was overwhelming.” He paused and drew in a long, shaky breath. “What I’m saying is, it’s not going to be safe for long. Half the police force is chasing you two. There’s a target on both your backs.”

“Why mine?” She knew her voice squeaked, but what he’d said shocked her.

“I’m not sure. Speculation is you’ve been in on everything from the beginning. Truth is, I think you know too much.”

“Shane didn’t kill Mack. And that guy in the motel room in Madison came to kill us. Shane defended himself. ” She sounded desperate because…duh…she was. If she thought it would work, she’d get some ruby slippers and click them three times. She wanted her old life back, the one where her biggest worry was choosing the right accessories.

Since that wasn’t about to happen, she contemplated asking him what he thought about the phrasing in Vince’s e-mail, but in the end couldn’t bring herself to do it. If she did, in her head at least, she would have crossed over some imaginary line of betrayal.

“They found blood at the Blues Stop that wasn’t Mack’s.”

“Of course not. It was Shane’s.” Her voice was tentative because she knew nothing is ever that easy.

“It only proves he was somehow injured. It doesn’t prove he didn’t kill Mack. We need more.”

“Are you saying that so I’ll cooperate?” While her gut told her she could trust Patrick, there was still a smidgen of doubt in her mind. Of course, with Shane beating her over the head with how sneaky Patrick was 24/7, it was amazing she’d gone even this far in trusting him.

“I’m saying things are too suspicious for me to go with the flow. Shane was set up. I can see that.”

“Why the sudden change of heart? You’ve done nothing but tell me how bad Shane is since the day I met you, and now all of a sudden you’re on his side. I’m not naïve enough to believe that happened overnight.”

“You’ll have to trust me. I heard something I shouldn’t have.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Believe me, I didn’t want to believe it at first, but let’s just say I came across irrefutable evidence of Shane’s innocence, even though you know I’d like nothing better than to hang him from the highest tree if I could.”

“Nice to know that brotherly love is still present.” In other words, Patrick had been hard at work to prove Shane’s guilt and somehow stumbled across evidence to prove his innocence instead. “If that’s true, why don’t you come forward?”

“Being around here is scary right now. Half the people here are already on a witch hunt and not listening to reason. This is bad, Gabriella. And it’s about to get a whole lot worse. They’re pretty sure you’ve left Wisconsin. It’s only a matter of time before they find you. You’ve got to let me help. It’s the only way you’re both going to stay alive.”

* * *

With that cheery thought rattling around her brain, Gabriella went into the workout room. She couldn’t give away their location to Patrick, but maybe she could somehow convince Shane they were in over their heads. He’d have no choice but to utilize Patrick’s help.

After searching the shelves, she found the docking system for her iPod and plugged it in. She began to hum before the music started. Her nerves popped inside like a popcorn kettle heating up with oil.

Shane stopped mid-pump of the machine. “What’s wrong?”

“What could possibly be wrong?” Even though she heard her voice go up an octave with each word she spoke, she couldn’t help it. She was scared, more scared than she’d been in her whole life. Having Patrick confirm everything Donna had told her this morning had only ratcheted up her anxiety.

“You’re singing again.” His body glistening with sweat, he sat upright on the bench to face her. “And I’m telling you, I can handle this. It’s going to take some time.”

“Don’t you get it, Shane? We don’t have time. Every second that passes by, we’re that much closer to getting caught.” All she could think was that the bad guys knew they weren’t in Wisconsin. How long would it take for them to figure out they were hiding out in the Ryans’ home? Her heart beat wildly inside her chest as she sang along to Sarah Vaughn.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He brushed away the hair from her shoulder and touched her arm. “Trust me.”

She wanted to tell him she’d talked to Patrick and let him know how much worse things had become. But he wouldn’t understand. He had his own idea of how things would play out, which somehow didn’t feel all that realistic. “We can’t just sit here. I’m about ready to jump out of my skin.”

“Working out will give that adrenaline a place to go.”

Given the options she had, working out with Shane seemed preferable to, say, spinning her wheels, going nowhere, and waiting to die. Besides, it gave her all sorts of excuses to ogle his body in the process, which would keep her mind occupied. Maybe for a short period of time she could forget how much trouble she was in.

Within minutes, sweat was pouring off her body while Shane played the role of personal trainer. He stood above her, spotting her on the bar while she lifted weights. “I kinda like pumping iron. It makes me feel powerful.” She sat up on the bench, flexing her muscles while humming the theme song from Superman.

He snickered. She couldn’t help noticing how relaxed and comfortable he looked. If he knew what was going on behind his back, he’d hate her forever. But how could she broach the subject that they were in over their heads? He didn’t like feeling vulnerable, which she, on the other hand, was used to. Maybe that made her think about things more realistically than he did.

“By the time we leave here, you’re going to be ripped.” He felt her bicep, causing her internal heat index to ratchet up a notch or two despite the fact the remainder of her life was going to hell.

But she needed to stay focused. She needed him to agree to let Patrick help them. Maybe if she made him feel guilty, that would get him to become more forthcoming. Somehow, she had to get him to see reason.

“It’s good to know I’ll look good in my casket. A girl has her standards, after all.” She gave him a cheeky smile.

He stroked her hand. “We’re going to be fine. Once I find the video, we can make a plan.”

“But what if it doesn’t exist? What if they are figuring out where we are right now?” Somehow she had to convince him of the urgency.

“They’re not. Because it was inherited, this place is still in Mrs. Ryan’s maiden name. It would take some massive kind of digging for them to figure it out.” He took her face in his hands. “What’s going on, Gabriella?”

Oh, man, he was good. “This is some scary stuff for me. I’m not like the rest of my family, I don’t do well under pressure.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Pfft.” She chewed on her index finger. This whole experience was playing havoc with her manicure, but it was a habit she’d developed of late due to all the stress. Playing both sides wasn’t good for her nerves. “Despite the fact I come from a long line of strong, intelligent black women, I somehow got skipped over. I didn’t do well in school, especially in comparison to my siblings, who are off-the-charts brilliant. I’ve always felt inadequate intellectually.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, somewhat surprised by the words that were coming out. Getting him to see reason must be cathartic for her as well.

“Relatives would always say I had the beauty and my younger sister, Juliana, had the brains. I guess it’s one of those things people say. Juliana went to Harvard Law. My older sister, Francesca, is a savvy business wiz who owns a chain of spas in South Florida.”

She continued, not thinking too much about her tale. “It bothered both of us in our own way. Juliana always thought of herself as this nerdy little geek, though she’s absolutely stunning.”

“And you always thought of yourself as average when you’re anything but.” He intertwined his fingers with hers.