Double Down (26 page)

This was a quiet neighborhood. Running under the streetlights, anyone looking out their window could easily see us. Although I was wearing light grey sweat pants and a white tank top, surely a barefoot woman, chased by a man dressed in black, couldn’t be dismissed as a simple jogger. Just my luck, all the houses I passed were dark. This was a twenty-four-hour town. Even at two a.m., someone should have been up.

As I rounded the corner, I must have slowed down, or he put on a burst of speed, because I felt his fingers touch the back of my shirt. A jolt of adrenaline kicked in, keeping me just out of reach. Spying a light in a back window of the next house, I darted to my right, running down the side yard banging on the wall as I went. A dog barked, but when I reached the back patio, the curtains stayed closed, and no one came to the doors. Racing across the patio, I skirted two black rubber trashcans. I threw them down behind me before racing around the other side of the house. I heard him kick one out of the way. Then glancing over my shoulder, I saw him slip and go down. I’d almost made it back to the sidewalk, when something crashed into me from the side, knocking me to the ground. The second man was on top of me, pinning me to the ground, sliding one gloved hand over my mouth.

I nearly passed out. With his weight on me, and his hand over my mouth, I couldn’t breathe. Barely mended ribs screamed in protest.

Putting a gun to my temple, he leaned down and whispered, “I’m going to take my hand away. Make one sound and it will be your last. You understand?” His glove smelled like smoke.

Desperate for air, I nodded. Keeping the gun in place, he withdrew his hand. The pressure of his weight lifted. He stayed straddling me on his knees until his partner caught up with us. Lying on my stomach with my head to the side, I concentrated on gulping down air. All I could see out of the corner of my eye was a black gloved hand, gripping a huge gun, the barrel touching the side of my head. Panting, his partner reached us. My attacker swung one leg over me and got to his knees. He moved the gun so it was pointing between my eyes. His partner grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet.

For the first time, I looked beyond the gun at the man who had tackled me. I’d never seen him before. In addition to the gloves, he wore a black long sleeved t-shirt, black jeans, and boots. At about six foot, he was sturdily built, barreled-chested, with thick muscular arms. Without lowering the gun or taking his close-set icy blue eyes off my face, he reached down and retrieved a black knit cap that had presumably covered his short blond hair.

I couldn’t see my running partner. Standing behind me, he twisted my arm up, pushing me forward. Together they marched me over to a black car, idling at the curb. It dawned on me, that while my running partner chased me, the gunman who set fire to my house, must have jumped in their car and followed us. My detour around the house had given him time to jump out and tackle me. My flight into the night was pointless. Between the two of them, they would have cut me off long before I reached any kind of safety.

The gunman opened the door to the back seat, and motioned me inside. I expected him to slide in next to me, but instead, he handed the gun to his partner. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, and got behind the wheel. I finally got a look at my running partner when he slid in beside me.

I knew instantly that this must be Joey Green. Now I understood why he had been willing to kill to protect his identity.

Chapter Eighteen

As soon the door shut, I heard all the locks click. I assumed that the driver had activated the child locks. Wanting to make sure, I tried the handle on my side. Joey just watched me, making no move to try to stop me. Of course, it was locked. The driver made a u-turn and drove slowly past my house. I stared out the tinted window, watching police cars and fire trucks pull up in front. Firemen, already suited up, jumped out and unrolled lengths of hose. No one paid any attention to us as we slowly passed by. Tears slipped down my face as I surveyed the wreckage. The flames already engulfed my living room. I could see them shooting through the roof, sparks lighting the night sky. The diaries must already be ashes. Once they killed me, no one would ever know that Joey Green was still alive. Two people had already died to keep his secret. I was certain they planned to kill me as well.

At least it would be quick. There was no reason to drag it out. They didn’t want information from me. They just wanted me dead. I flashed back to when I told my brother I would be safe, because I would never have any information that I hadn’t shared with the police. So much for my well thought out plan. I was the only person who knew that Joey Green was still alive, and now I would die. No, I refused to accept that. I searched my mind for some way to escape. The chances were dismal at best, locked in a car with two men bigger and stronger than me, one with a gun trained on me. No one knew where I was. My car was still in the garage. The police, including Delgado, would assume I was still in the house. It might be hours before they gained enough control over the fire to go inside. By that time, it would be too late. No knight on a white horse would be riding to my rescue.

I wondered where they were taking me. We left my housing area, made a left on Las Vegas Boulevard and another left on Charleston, before getting on interstate 15 going south. If they planned to shoot me and leave my body in the desert, then they should have gone north. Joey still had the gun lying casually on his lap.

I had no weapons to defend myself. I didn’t have a purse. I didn’t even have shoes. The only thing I had in my pocket was the phone. The phone, I’d completely forgotten the phone. I wasn’t sure how to use it without letting them know I had it. It didn’t have GPS, so no one could use it to follow me. Actually, the worst thing that could happen right now was for it to ring. If I could flip it open without Joey noticing, I could keep it from ringing, and maybe I could dial 911, hoping they could track the signal somehow. However, even if I could find the right buttons, the keypad made noise. Even if he missed those tones, he would be sure to hear the operator answer. All three of us had been sitting in silence. Talking . . . I needed to get him talking to cover the noise.

“
Why did you kill Monica?” My voice sounded loud in the quiet car.

Joey turned to face me. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I really cared about her, just not as much as she wanted.” He turned back toward the window.

Great, just when I needed him to be long winded, I was getting one-liners. I tried again. “Was killing Danny an accident as well?”

He shook his head. “No, that was Hugo being overprotective.” He lifted his chin to indicate the driver in the front seat.

Hugo heard us. “It had to be done. You were just too squeamish to do it yourself.”

Joey nodded. “I suppose. Danny called me after Monica’s death, trying to blackmail me, inferring he knew all about the history between Monica and me. It’s too bad I didn’t realize he was only talking about my affair with Monica. Once I agreed to meet him, and he realized I had something to hide . . . well I guess Hugo’s right, we really had no choice.” He sounded sad.

When he looked back toward the window, I carefully reached into my pocket and flipped open the phone. It didn’t make a noise. “You took the identity of the man killed in the hit and run accident in front of the restaurant all those years ago, didn’t you?”

He looked at me and shook his head. “See I knew you’d figure it out. I tried to warn you. I didn’t want to have to do this. You just couldn’t leave it alone could you?”

I had to keep him talking to cover the sound of the keypad. “How did you get away with it? Weren’t there relatives, people who would know that you weren’t him?”

He smiled. “That was the beauty of it. This young man about my age came into the restaurant that night. Even after he’d eaten, he just sat there drinking coffee. He seemed lonely and upset. When I was refilling his coffee, I asked if he was all right. He said he needed to talk to someone, would it be possible for me to sit down. We weren’t busy. It was late and most of the other diners had already gone, so I asked Louie and he said fine.

“
He just sat there lost in thought, not saying anything at first, until one of the waitresses came over and asked if we were brothers. She said we looked alike. He just shook his head. He said I should be glad we weren’t related. I tried to tell him that his life had to be better than mine.”

My fingers found the buttons.

“
He told me that when he was very young, his mother left his father and took him to England. He lived there with her, until she died the year before. The first time he saw his father was at her funeral. Since he was still underage, his father arranged for him to come to Chicago as soon as the school year ended. His father gave him no choice in the matter. All his friends, everything he knew was in England, but he had no relatives there to turn to. His father refused to continue paying for the boarding school he was attending.”

Joey was caught up in the story now, so I took a chance and pushed the buttons. Thankfully, even I couldn’t hear if the operator answered.

Joey continued. “He told me his father left, and he had no further contact with him until two weeks before the end of the school term. He received an envelope with the plane tickets, $200, and a short note saying that someone would meet him at the airport. Having no other choices, he took his passport, packed what belongings he could get into the only suitcase he owned, and boarded the plane. However, when he arrived in Chicago, there was no one there to meet him. He waited around for a couple of hours, but when no one showed up, he took a cab to the return address on the envelope. The cab deposited him in front of an office building. It was after five o’clock and the building was locked.

“
He was wondering what to do next when a young woman came out of the building. He stopped her and asked if she knew his father. She was a new employee, but she remembered hearing that his father had died the previous week of a heart attack. She had no idea where he lived, or if there were any other relatives. Saying she was sorry, she left him there standing on the sidewalk. Inexperienced, alone in a foreign country without a clue what to do next, he simply walked aimlessly. Finally, he saw our sign and realized he was hungry.

“
After dinner, he realized he would need a place to stay. He had only meant to ask me for a recommendation. Now having told me the whole story, he asked what I thought he should do He had no place to go, and not enough money to return to England. I asked his father’s name, thinking we could look in the phone book to see if we could find a relative. However, when he told me the name, I remembered reading the obituary. His father was a wealthy and influential man in Chicago. I told him to wait while I ran to the back. I dug through the trash until I found the newspaper article. The article mentioned a surviving grandfather. We looked up the phone number. Louie allowed him to use the phone to call. After a few minutes of conversation, he wrote down an address. We called him a cab.

“
Much relieved, he thanked me for my help. He said he would wait outside for the taxi. The restaurant closed. As the last one out, I was just locking the door, when a drunk driver careened around the corner, hitting the young man and killing him instantly. The driver never even stopped. Passersby called the police and an ambulance. I hurried over and knelt down beside him. I could see that he was dead. His eyes were open and staring. Blood oozed from the side of his mouth and nose. I sat there thinking that he almost had it all, and wishing I had a rich grandfather to take me in.

“
I don’t know why I did it. When no one was looking, I went through his pockets, removed his wallet and passport. I looked at his picture and realized that we did look a great deal alike. When I looked up, I saw his cab, stopped at the intersection. Almost before I had time to think about what I was doing, I stuffed the wallet and passport in pocket, grabbed his suitcase still leaning against the building, and ran and hopped into the cab.

“
His grandfather welcomed me into the family. He sent me to college, introduced me to his high powered friends, and when he died a few years later, he left me his estate.” The story finished, he sat back stroking the gun in his lap.

We’d passed through the downtown corridor. As usual, I hadn’t recharged my phone that day. Had the call even gone through? We passed Flamingo, Tropicana, and then Russell Boulevard without turning off.

Hugo looked at Joey in the review mirror, “We’re cutting it pretty fine, but I think I can still get you there in time to catch the plane.”

Joey looked up at him. “What about her?”

Hugo’s eyes shifted to me. “I’ll take care of her after I drop you off.”

Joey nodded. Hugo changed lanes, taking the 215 exit going toward the airport. Time was running out. I needed to do something quickly. They would have to stop the car and unlock the doors for Joey to get out. If I could just make it out of the car, they wouldn’t dare shoot me in front of all the people at the airport. Inside the tunnel where it was dark, I reached out to clasp the door handle, poised and ready to make a break for it the minute the car even slowed down.

Reaching over the front seat, Hugo handed Joey his briefcase. Joey snapped open the case and reached inside. He looked at me and said, “I’m really sorry about this.” He pulled out a syringe. I tried to bat it away, but he grabbed my wrist. Before I could pull away, he plunged the needle into my neck. The tunnel seemed to close in on me.