The Wrong Side of Dead Page 13

  But eventually, the shock had worn off, and she realized what was happening. That was when she reacted.

  “Seth, what are you…” Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she pulled away from him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Seth scrambled to his feet and stood. He backed away from the sofa and headed across the room. His face flushed pink.

  Jess had never seen it coming. Had she misread what he’d done, made more out of it than was there? She replayed the moment in her head and found it hard to misinterpret what had happened.

  Seth had kissed her. And damned if she hadn’t returned the favor.

  CHAPTER 15

  Chicago suburbs

  Two hours later

  Being the bearer of bad news about Seth Harper didn’t sit well with Ray Garza, but it was a hair better than sharing it over the phone. He hoped Sam Cooper would appreciate the difference.

  With a hand on his steering wheel, he leaned forward and held up a note with an address scribbled on it. The light coming off a nearby streetlamp was enough to see the house number as he drove through the older residential neighborhood, a street lined with small, well-kept bungalows. He’d never been to Sam Cooper’s house, but the homey street suited her.

  One more block.

  Nudging the gas pedal, he felt anxious about seeing her, a strange mix of feelings that were hard to unravel. Emotions were a black hole he had no patience for. Part of him couldn’t wait to see her—like a damned kid with a crush—but another side wished he were in better control. Hell, he was a seasoned cop. He should know better.

  From the first day he’d seen her in the squad room, he had to stifle how he felt. And her being smart and a good cop made his infatuation worse. He wondered if she felt the same, but he didn’t trust his instincts where women were concerned. Taking things slow worked best. At least, that was what he told himself.

  Ray knew he’d taken a risk coming to her home, when he could have called. But in his mind, a phone call wouldn’t cut it. Not with the news he had. It was late, but not completely out of line. He only wished he had a better reason for showing up on her doorstep.

  He found her home and parked behind her vehicle in the drive. The small brick bungalow had interior lights coming from what he guessed was a living-room window with curtains drawn. The front stoop and the flower beds beneath the porch were lit. It reminded him of his parents’ place, when they were alive.

  He hit the front buzzer, and she answered the door wearing jeans and a black CPD T-shirt, her hair in a ponytail. The word—CUTE—could have been stamped on her forehead without lying.

  “Ray, what are you doing here?”

  When she first saw him through the curtain, her heart leapt. She ran fingers across her hair and fiddled with her clothes—fighting the urge to stall until she could change. But that wasn’t going to happen. Sam prided herself on being a low-maintenance woman.

  But that was before Ray Garza showed up on her doorstep.

  “Hey, Sam. I was…ah…” He gestured over his shoulder, pointing toward his car, as if the vehicle had brought him against his will.

  “You were in the neighborhood?”

  She tried to bail him out, but a smile gave her away. She was enjoying herself. Normally, Ray was the picture of confidence, but not tonight. Seeing him like this made her cheeks heat up.

  “Come in. Can I get you a beer?” She stood back and let him in.

  “No, but thanks. I’m on duty.”

  The man looked good in her house, but by the expression on his face, he’d come for a reason. This wasn’t a social call. She stepped toward her small living room, but he stayed in the foyer.

  “What’s up, Ray?”

  “We gotta talk, Coop. There’s something you need to know about Seth Harper.” Ray Garza took a deep breath and told her, “I’ve got news, and I figured you’d want to hear…in person.”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s going on?” A worry knot clenched Sam’s stomach.

  “Another hooker filed charges against him a few hours ago. Camille Regan, street name Jade. She claimed he beat her up earlier today…and she says it had something to do with that dead hooker. Detective Loren Clampitt out of Central is checking her story.” He gave her the time of the alleged assault. “The woman was stitched up at an ER, but she’s out now. We’ve got an APB on Harper, but so far no luck. I think the kid skipped.”

  “Oh, my God. I can’t believe this.” She slumped to the armrest of her sofa. “Ray, that doesn’t make sense. You don’t know this kid, but I swear…”

  “For what it’s worth, it doesn’t make sense to me either. That guy would have to be an idiot to take his fists to a hooker right after makin’ bail. But until we talk to him, we’ve got only her side of the story. You got any idea where he is?”

  “No, but I’ll call Jess. Maybe she’ll know.”

  She had left Seth at Jessie’s place not long ago. The guy had looked antsy and wired, but she had a hard time picturing him doing anything violent. Keeping what she knew from Ray went against the grain, but she owed Jessie a heads-up. And it would look better for Harper if he turned himself in. She had to give him that chance.

  “You think she’d tell you?” He cocked his head, his cynicism showing. “You care to make a wager on that?”

  “Nope.” Sam heaved a sigh. “No bet, Ray. Not this time.”

  When he had delivered his news, Ray headed for the door, but turned around, waggling a finger. “Hey, did you know that kid is the son of a cop?”

  “What?” She wondered if Jessie knew. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, Max Jenkins. He used to serve at Central, detective division. He cracked a big case in his day before he retired. The Danny Ray Millstone case, the serial pedophile who killed and abused all those kids? You and me, we were pretty young back then, but people still talk about it.”

  Sam felt like someone had smacked her in the head. That name, Danny Ray Millstone, had triggered a gut-wrenching sensation. Jessie had been one of Millstone’s young victims. And Sam carried her own memories of how her path had crossed Jessie’s all those years ago—a secret she had kept between them.

  As a kid, she had seen Jessie poke her finger out of a dark basement one day, but she didn’t mention it to her parents or anyone else. Later, she admitted it struck her as odd, but as a kid she had no idea the old man in that house could have done such vile things. Detective Max Jenkins eventually rescued Jessie and the others, but not before weeks of abuse continued, and another little girl had been taken. Even after all these years, Sam held on to the guilt of not telling—and became another victim herself.

  “When did you find this out, Ray?” She barely recognized her own voice.

  “I heard it came out at the kid’s bail hearing. Some big developer named Anthony Salvatore made his bail. The guy was a friend of old Max. Guess the kid has ties to the community after all. Big ones.” He narrowed his eyes when she didn’t respond.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” She waved him off and forced a smile that had all the staying power of a snowflake on a hot sidewalk.

  “Well, I gotta go.” He wanted nothing more than to stay, but something in her eyes told him he wouldn’t be welcomed. Nothing personal. “Good night, Coop.”

  “Yeah…good night, Ray. And thanks.”

  She closed the door behind him and locked it, then leaned against the doorframe, stunned. Jessie had heard about Seth’s father at the bail hearing. And she’d deliberately not told her about it. Her friend’s life had its dark corners, ones she’d never get to see. And of all people, she understood Jessie’s reasons.

  But that didn’t stop the guilt she felt for playing a part in Jessie’s childhood torment. The dark memory rose hot, like bile in her stomach—and always would.

  Jess hated to let Harper go, but she had no choice. With his cheeks flushed red, he had refused to stay. His bruised male ego had taken over, an
d she completely understood. He’d left her place looking more depressed than when he’d arrived—and that was saying something. She understood his need to be alone, especially after she’d overreacted to his sudden show of affection. She’d been guilty, too. She had not only let it happen, she’d kissed him back. The awkwardness of the moment hadn’t helped their strained relationship, but why hadn’t she seen it coming?

  “Damn it,” she cursed under her breath. She could have handled it better. Her shock had hurt him. She’d seen it in his eyes. In hindsight, they had both been vulnerable and had probably only reacted out of need for comfort. Maybe he hadn’t meant anything more than that, and she had overreacted and embarrassed him.

  And after getting Sam’s call about the downhill slide of Seth’s life, she wouldn’t wait until morning to go looking for him. It gave her more of a legitimate reason to search for him, beyond the personal one that had left her baffled. She only wished that she’d insisted they talk about what had happened between them rather than letting him walk out the door.

  After all, she had a roll of duct tape and a gun. She could have convinced him to stay.

  And on top of it all, Sam had sounded distant on the phone: but when Jess asked her about it, her friend denied it and told her to focus on finding Harper.

  Not an easy task.

  The first place she looked was his downtown residence, the one she’d found with her taxi-company search. According to the late-night concierge, Harper had cleared out in a hurry without explanation. As usual, he had packed light, carrying only a knapsack on his back, but she had no idea if she could trust what the concierge had said.

  If Harper was on the run again, his living nightmare would be ramped up with no end in sight. Even if his bloodwork came back positive for the date-rape drug that had taken his memory—casting doubt on the state’s case against him—the cops could arrest him for the assault if he didn’t have an alibi. And if this new charge could be linked to Mandy’s murder, even if the accusation was false, it would be damaging to his defense. With the evidence piling up against him, the ADA would have plenty of time to make her case without a hitch.

  She had one other location to check, a posh condominium project off Lakeshore Drive near the Chicago Harbor, but it would be a long shot. Harper had vacated the premises months ago, and she had the feeling he never covered the same ground twice. But searching the address would make her feel like she was doing something.

  Jess found a spot to park along the curb outside the six-story building, but before she got out, her cell rang. Her phone display gave no caller ID, but that didn’t stop her from hoping she knew who was on the line.

  “Yeah, Beckett here.”

  “Hey, it’s me.” Harper’s voice sounded distant. “I don’t suppose you’d agree to the Vulcan mind meld to forget what happened.”

  “I’m not sure I want Leonard Nimoy messing with my head, Harper. I’m screwed up enough.” Like Seth, she resorted to humor to broach the subject, but before she could tell him how she really felt, he interrupted her.

  “If you can forget it ever happened, I’m okay with that,” he said. “Irrational behavior is part of an insanity plea I’m building.”

  When Humphries had reminded her that Seth wasn’t as young as she thought, the notion had surprised her. She’d always thought of him as a kid, probably because the harsh life she led had hardened her beyond her years. And Harper struck her as a naïve kid trying to find his way.

  He had an open innocence to everything he did. Seeing him in this new light—as a man—had taken her off guard.

  “I’m not sure I want to forget it happened, but we do have other things to worry about.”

  “Yeah, I know the cops are looking for me again. What they’re saying…it isn’t true, Jessie.”

  His frustration came through over the phone, despite the loud traffic noise in the background on his end.

  “You didn’t have to tell me that, Harper.” She plugged an ear to hear him better. “Where are you?”

  “I haven’t landed yet.” His polite way of saying he had no intention of putting her in the middle with the cops. “And I’m on my own this time. I won’t drag Tony Salvatore into the shambles of my life. Man, how did things get so screwed up?”

  “I don’t know, Harper, but I’m gonna find out. You have an alibi for when the hooker got beat up?” She gave him the time she’d gotten from Sam.

  “With the way my luck has been going, what do you think? And I’m too stupid to lie.”

  Too honest, she thought.

  But Jess had to give Harper strokes for more than just honesty. This time he hadn’t pulled his usual vanishing act in stealth mode. He’d reached out to call her. But she had a sickening feeling this would be the last time she’d hear his voice. If he’d severed his tight link to Salvatore, it wouldn’t take much for him to shut her out.

  Jess closed her eyes to imagine him standing in front of her now, to help her focus on his words—but picturing him wasn’t enough. Knowing Harper, he had a throwaway phone, and he had probably made arrangements to bury himself deep. If she had any lifeline to him, the rope was fraying.

  She had failed him. That was all she knew. And failing the son of Max Jenkins—the man who had sacrificed so much to rescue her—was unacceptable.

  “No one ever tells you how important it is to eat black-eyed peas at New Year’s,” he said. “Now my luck is for shit.”

  “Yeah, and being framed for murder really blows, but this isn’t over.”

  “Come on, Jess. I think it’s time to cut your losses. The odds of me getting out of this are slim to none.” He sighed. “I’m not running away, but I just can’t sit in jail.”

  “I completely understand, Harper. And I commend you for thinking outside the box, but the cops aren’t likely to embrace your exile strategy—especially if you have room service and cable. Your taste in upscale digs would piss them off.”

  “You think they’d go for it if I stayed at Motel 6?” The old Harper she knew and loved rose to the occasion—black humor and all—but he didn’t stay long.

  “I can’t do this, Jess.” Fear edged his voice. “And if they lock me away and someone finds out I’m a cop’s son, what do you think will happen? Hell, maybe I’ve seen too many prison movies.”

  He tried to laugh but failed miserably. It only made her sad.

  “Oh man, I have enough trouble sleeping,” she admitted, fighting back tears and a fierce lump in her throat. “But Seth, you’re only making things worse. If the cops find you…”

  “That’s my new job, Jess”—his voice sounded far off, like he’d turned his head away from the receiver—“making sure they don’t.”

  “That isn’t a solution.”

  “I know, but it’s all I’ve got,” he said.

  Silence. She knew he’d said everything he had intended. Dial tone would be next.

  “What about your father, Seth? If you leave, what will happen to him?” Desperation left her grasping at straws, even if it meant hurting him to do it. She hated trumping him with the father card, but she had nothing else.

  “Low blow, Jess.” He sighed. “With me in jail, all he’s got is Tony Salvatore anyway, but good try.” An awkward silence reminded her how fragile their connection had always been. “Have a nice life, Jessie. I think my dad would have been proud how you turned out. I know I am.”

  Harper didn’t wait for her reply. With a catch in his voice, he ended the call, leaving her wallowing in dial tone.

  “Damn it.”

  Someone was determined to frame Harper. And to cover their tracks, they’d taken a second shot at it, adding an assault charge for good measure. Yet Jess knew from experience that if the boy didn’t want to be found, he could shape-shift into a damned ghost—for real. But that wouldn’t fix the hole left in her life where he’d been.

  Jess had to turn things around with a new game plan. Up until now, the real killer had dictated the action. The coward! She’d been re
acting—shoring up Harper’s defenses—but that hadn’t worked. Jess needed results, and there was only one way to meet that challenge.

  Head-on!

  She had to stir things up, even if it meant becoming a target for a killer. And, unfortunately for her, she knew exactly where to start.

  CHAPTER 16

  South Side of Chicago

  1:10 A.M.

  Hookers don’t get workman’s comp. And forget about sick days, not even in Nevada, where prostitution is legal. Being an independent contractor herself—of a different sort—Jess knew all about operating without benefits.

  So she had a pretty good notion where to find Jade.

  And if the woman had known Mandy, she figured chances were that they traveled in the same circles. She didn’t have to start from scratch to track her down. It was a theory—one that had paid off. And she didn’t have to shell out much coin to score Jade’s favorite spots. Even if someone hadn’t given her a usable description, she recognized Jade by her fresh stitches and distinctive limp in stilettos as Jess drove by her on the street.

  Finding a spot under the pale glow of blue and red neon, the woman lit up a cigarette with her back to the wall of Phat Jack’s. Next to the lounge was a dark alley, probably the closest thing a streetwalker had to an office. Jade wasn’t working it hard, judging by her slouch and lack of interest in the few men who came out of the bar.

  Jess parked the blue van down the street and approached Jade on foot, keeping her hand near the butt of the Colt Python, which she wore under a jeans jacket. When she got close, she heaped on the familiar and added a dash of honey to her voice.

  “Well…what happened to you?” She smiled as if she were an old friend, but Jade gave her the stink eye, clearly not in the mood.