Evil Without a Face (12 page)

Word on the street was that Baker was neck deep into a string of missing kids. That’s what set Jess on his trail, but she had no proof—yet. There’d be no bounty on this case, but as she told Sam, some things were more important than any stash of cash.

“You ain’t goin’ anywhere, honey.” Some jerk outside the office stopped her. A beefy hand reached out with splayed fingers pressed to her chest, copping a feel. “Not without a strip search. Rules of the house.”

The guy smirked and looked real impressed with himself.

Jess locked eyes with Baker’s muscle, feeling the weight of her .357 Magnum Colt Python at the small of her back. A square-jawed cowboy dude in a tight white tee, wranglers, and a no frills burr cut blocked her path. He had a knife clipped to his jeans pocket, made to look like a money clip or key chain to the untrained eye. Lucas had to be behind the cheap theatrics, and she had no patience for it.

Enough was enough.

Sam couldn’t sit in Jess’s car any longer. She got out and paced the sidewalk under a glow of red and blue neon, catching movement to her right. Night shift lowlifes re
mained faceless in the shadows, but she felt their eyes on her. And a hooker glared with suspicion then walked around the corner, taking her business down the block. She probably smelled cop.

So much for keeping a low profile.

Sam’s eyes darted across the street to the front door of The Cutthroat. It had only been ten minutes since she last heard from Jess, but ten minutes in her friend’s world could mean plenty of trouble. Besides, instincts born of a lifelong friendship had started to niggle at her belly.

“Jess? Are you okay?” She keyed her mic. “Talk to me.”

Radio silence. Nothing.

Sam wanted to respect Jess and her reasons for confronting Baker alone. Even if she didn’t buy the whole story, she trusted Jess to do the right thing. But now that trust was being tested, and her cop instincts told her something didn’t feel right.

Jess was supposed to speak up if she got into trouble, but was her silence the equivalent of sending up a flare? Sam clipped her badge to her belt, preparing to go in. And with steady fingers, she touched the service weapon under her jeans jacket, an old habit.

“Damn it, Jess. What’s going on in there?”

Jess narrowed her eyes at the brute standing in front of her, his hand pressed to her breast. He squeezed to see if she’d react and the bastard wasn’t disappointed. She grabbed his hand and twisted his thumb backward. In reflex, he bent over and turned his back to her, writhing in pain. When he did, she shoved a hand hard against his elbow and thrust his arm up between his shoulder blades.

“Aarrgh,”
he cried out. “You’re gonna break it.”

“Good. I was afraid you wouldn’t get the point.”

She shoved the jerk into a wall with a sharp crack, pinning him in place with the weight of her body and the awkward position she held his arm. He twisted against her grip
so she wouldn’t wrench his shoulder, but he couldn’t break free without doing serious damage. He grunted and let out another yelp. By now all eyes were on her again. Jess held firm and glared at each face.

“What are you looking at?” she demanded, yelling above the blaring music from the jukebox.

For an instant she thought someone from the crowd might interfere, until a sound came from near the bar. One guy started to clap, then another. As the room erupted into a standing ovation with whistles and shouts of encouragement, Jess turned her head to the door marked
OFFICE
, still grappling with the bouncer.

“You’re comin’ with me.”

She kicked at the door and waited for someone to answer. When it opened a crack, she shoved the cowboy through it, using him as a shield as she walked in with gun drawn. Beef Boy sprawled to the floor in a huff—all under the wary eye of his boss.

“What the hell?” Baker jumped to his feet and pulled his weapon.

Jess yelled, “Hey now, hold your water, Lucas. Let’s not get crazy.”

She aimed her weapon between Baker’s eyes but kept her voice calm, trying to defuse the situation.

“I came here to trade, but you’re the one who left that bulldog outside,” she persisted.

Two men stood near the desk with guns drawn. Their eyes shifted between her and Baker, waiting for orders. Although she was clearly outnumbered, she gripped her weapon and held firm. In an instant things could have gone very wrong. Someone had to make the first move.

Jess decided it should be her.

She raised her weapon toward the ceiling and relaxed her grip, both hands in the air. After a very long minute, Baker followed suit. He ordered his men to stand down with a nod and a disgusted look meant for the cowboy at her feet.

“Shut that door. And get off the damned floor, Gary,” he demanded. “You’re making me look bad.”

“And that you can do on your own,” she said, holstering her weapon as one of Baker’s men shut the door behind her. “Where’s Seth?”

Still standing, Baker tightened his jaw and glared at her. After a long beat, intended to intimidate her, he finally nodded to one of his goons, who went to a side door and opened it.

In a dark closet, Seth had been bound to a chair with duct tape.

He squinted into the sudden light, his face swollen and bloody. His shirt was drenched in sweat and his skin looked mottled and bruised under the fluorescent light. And Baker had cut his lip. But when the kid’s vision cleared, he found her in the crowded room and his eyes filled with relief, tinged by fear from his time with Baker.

Innocence destroyed, the look on his face broke her heart.

He’d been beaten because of her vendetta. And she’d been careless, leading Baker to him. She wanted to rip away his restraints and help him out of this rat hole, but she knew these men would never allow it, not until they concluded their business.

Before she could speak to Seth, Baker intruded. “I noticed you came here a little light. I don’t see my property.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your eyesight, Lucas,” she replied with her gaze still glued on Seth.

“Well, your boy ain’t leavin’ here without that laptop, so what’s it gonna be?” He cocked his head.

“That’s fair.” She shrugged and turned. “I came to trade, but I’ve got a new deal.”

Slowly, she stepped toward Baker. “This time we’re playin’ it my way.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass, Beckett.” Lucas Baker shook his head, royally pissed. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“Coming from you, I consider that a compliment.” Jess forced a faint smile. “I thought you had the market cornered.”

One of Baker’s boys smirked, a flinch behind the man’s back. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out something to hold in front of Baker’s nose. He narrowed his eyes.

“A key? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“Generally, keys open locks. And if you hurry, you can use this key to retrieve your property tonight.” She handed him a note that she’d prepared beforehand after making a stop on her way to Sam’s place. “Here’s an address and locker number. It’s a nearby skating rink off Greenwood.” She gave him the cross streets. “The place closes at midnight. Your laptop’s there.”

“How do I know you’re not just blowin’ smoke?”

“’Cause you know where I live and I’m not going anywhere.” She fought to keep her expression unreadable. “I
don’t want any more trouble. You’ve made your point. I’m done.”

She had to convince him that she’d rolled over and he had won. The bastard glared at her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth.

“The locker could be empty,” he pressed. “Hell, there might not even be a skate rink at this address.”

“Look it up,” she challenged with arms folded.

Baker snapped his fingers and held out her note. Cowboy Gary made himself useful and took the paper. He started pulling open the drawers to the desk. In short order he had a phone book spread on the desktop and was flipping through the yellow pages to confirm the address.

“It’s here, boss. Just like she wrote.”

“Clock’s ticking, Lucas. They close at midnight.” Jess stood in front of his desk with hands on her hips.

“Then you better have a seat and pray Gary don’t get lost, ’cause you ain’t leavin’ here until he gets back.” Baker handed her note and key to the wannabe cowboy, then continued, “Go on. Sit. That ain’t exactly a request.”

Jess clenched her jaw and plopped into a seat, her arms folded. Now she had a dilemma. First off, Gary looked to be one bronco shy of a rodeo. It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine him getting lost on the painted pony of a merry-go-round. Second, Sam would be getting impatient about now.

Jess hadn’t counted on Baker holding her and Seth until he got his laptop back.
Damn it!
She wanted to leave and take care of Seth, but that idea looked shot to hell. She had to face reality. Even if she made contact by radio, what could she say in front of Baker that wouldn’t stir up questions from Sam? And as paranoid as Baker was, he’d probably think SWAT was right outside. No, she’d have to let the chips fall, and knowing Sam, she wouldn’t have to wait long.

Even expecting it, the knock on the door jolted her heart. Jess shut her eyes tight.

Oh, hell! Right on time.

Baker grimaced and shot her a nasty look.

“If this brings trouble down on me, you and your friend here won’t like how fast shit trickles downhill.” He snapped his fingers at Gary. “Open the damned door.”

As she figured, Sam wasn’t a patient soul. Her friend stood in the doorway, not saying a word, at first. She shifted her eyes around the room, trying to puzzle out what was going on. Jess had seen the look before, and she held her breath, waiting for Sam to open her mouth.

“Well, I’m not selling Girl Scout cookies. And this doesn’t look like a Kiwanis Club meeting. Are you all right, Jess?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” She nodded. “We were about to head out.”

“We?”

“Yeah, he’s coming.” Jess pointed to Seth. “Introductions will have to wait.”

Seth waved a finger, trying to look casual in duct tape. “Hey.”

Sam grimaced at the kid, but before she got a good look at him, Jess stood and blocked her view, turning to Baker.

“Lucas has an appointment to get to, but we’re all done here, right?”

The man took a slow breath and narrowed his eyes—more intimidation—but after a long moment, he flinched. That’s when she knew she had him.

“Yeah, I gotta go. Cut the kid loose. But our business better be done and over, Jess. Neither of us wants a repeat.” Then he pointed a finger. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Jess headed for Seth and helped him to stand once he got free. She wedged a shoulder under his arm. “Oh…and Lucas? I’d like my gun returned. You know, the one you borrowed from my place?”

He smirked, his eyes shifting from Jess to Sam. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sorry.”

Jess clenched her jaw. Her Glock 21 would be a casualty, but at least she had Seth back.

“What happened to him?” Sam asked. “Was it nickel beer night if you came dressed in duct tape?”

Before Jess could reply, Seth intervened.

“I picked a fight and got out of control. The duct tape was for my own good.”

“Yeah, right. You look like a real animal.” Sam crossed her arms and cocked her head. “So what happened that got you all riled up, sport?”

“A guy took offense to my
Jerry Springer
tee.” Seth winced as he walked toward the door. “And nobody slams Jerry.”

Real tough guy!
Jess almost smiled. Seth looked like a total flounder out of water in this dump. He would never have come here on his own. And by the look on Sam’s face, she wasn’t buying any of it, but to her credit, she let things play out. She seemed to appreciate their urgency to leave.

“Next time, be more careful, young man.” Baker laid it on thick, but he didn’t show a speck of amusement. “We can get a pretty rough crowd in here. You’re lucky no one pressed charges.”

“Yeah, I feel real lucky.” Seth didn’t bother to hide his cynicism and never looked back.

When Jess got him to the door, she handed Seth over to Sam. She wanted to make sure business with Baker was concluded out of Sam’s earshot. Jess looked back at him and tapped a finger to her watch.

“Time’s a-wasting. We done here?”

“We better be.” The man scowled, rooting her where she stood. “’Cause if I get that déjà vu feeling from you, you’re gonna find yourself on the wrong side of the turf.”

Jess wanted to say something clever as she turned to walk out the door, but nothing came to mind. She knew Baker meant every word.

On the drive home, after Seth insisted he’d be okay without a trip to the emergency room, Jess introduced Sam to the kid and told her about how she’d hired him. Given what had just transpired, the thought of Seth punching the clock like an hourly employee sounded ludicrous to her. Sam heard it in her friend’s voice as Jess tried to explain why she’d crossed paths with him in the first place. Any other time she might have found humor in Jess’s version of a “summer intern” job, but not tonight.

The situation only made her sad.

Road noise and the sounds of Chicago traffic had filled the void in conversation over the last ten minutes. Sam had picked the backseat to put distance between her and Jess. She stared out the window, the ebb and flow of street lamps washing over her. Seth Harper rode shotgun in stone cold silence. Apparently, he sensed the rift and kept his mouth shut. Smart boy. And although she had no concrete reason to believe Jess had lied about her confrontation with Lucas Baker, she knew it in her bones.

And that hurt worst of all.

Jess had always been a loner. Sam knew this, but being hit with the harsh reality that her best friend would never completely trust her had hurt all the same. Jess maintained her privacy like a miser hoarded coins, and Sam wanted to respect that. Her friend had come by that philosophy honestly and with good reason. But when Jess kept her at arm’s length under a misguided attempt to protect her, Sam hated not being included in the decision.

Jess did things her way. End of story. Sam had no idea how to break into her world, and after tonight, she realized she might never get a passkey.

“Pull over, Jess. I need to walk.”

Jess slowed the car and looked in the rearview mirror, making eye contact in a flash of light, but she didn’t question her need to be alone. Of all people, Jess should understand
that. Sam was close enough to walk the last couple miles. When Jess pulled to the curb of the older residential neighborhood, a street lined with small well-kept bungalows, Sam opened the car door with some parting words to Seth Harper.

“If you need it, I can put you in touch with a twelve-step program for
Springer
addicts. The first step is recognizing you have a problem.”

“Yeah, very funny.” He nodded with his head down, not looking back. “Good to meet you, Sam. And thanks.”

From the backseat, she tousled his hair and got out of the car. Jess followed after putting the car in park and leaving Seth to wait.

“Are we all right?” Jess faced her in the dark, hands in her pockets.

Sam wasn’t sure how to answer. After an awkward silence, she began to put her feelings in perspective.

“You know, I get the fact that you’ll never let me in, but it still hurts.”

“I didn’t intend—”

“No, you never intend to hurt me, Jess, but that doesn’t mean I’m bulletproof.” Sam took a deep breath and stared into the night sky. “Look, I’m tired and you need to get him patched up. Let’s talk…tomorrow. I gotta get some sleep, but I’ve got things to sort out first.”

Jess stared at her for a long moment, looking as if she wanted to say something real, but then changed her mind. Moonlight painted pale blue streaks through her hair, giving her an ethereal quality. The image disturbed Sam, as if she was staring into the face of a ghost. Jess nodded and turned to walk away without saying another word, then hesitated and looked back over her shoulder.

“You know, I trust you with my life.”

“Yeah, but not with what’s in your heart, Jess. I mean, I know you love me like a sister, but you sure don’t trust me with who you are as a person. That, you keep all to yourself.” She tried to smile but it wouldn’t come. “And this obsession
of yours is consuming you, but you just don’t see it. I don’t know what you have going on with Baker, but…you’ve changed. And not for the better.”

After a long moment of silence between them, Sam let it go.

“Good night, Jess.”

She turned to walk away, but as Jess drove by, she watched her go. Something had changed between them tonight. Jess had stepped over a line with their friendship, and she only hoped she could get past it the next time—if there
was
a next time.

At ten minutes before midnight, when Lucas Baker pulled in, the skating rink parking lot was quiet. It was on the way to where he’d be spending the night. Jess Beckett had been a regular pit bull, latching onto him and making his life a living hell over the last several weeks. Living out of a suitcase was no fun, but he had a feeling he was finally on the downhill side of the ordeal now. Pretty soon it would be business as usual.

Before he got out of his vehicle, he looked around to case the place. With his engine and radio off, he heard the steady thump of muffled music coming from the rink. A few vehicles were still parked in the lot, and a group of kids hung by the entrance, talking it up and smoking cigarettes. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, so he got out of his car and locked it.

As he headed for the entrance, he fumbled in his pocket for the key Jess Beckett had given him, along with the note for the locker number. He clutched them in his hand, ready to make his stop quick. As a precaution, he reached down to touch the butt of his .45-caliber Glock 21 tucked in a belt holster under his suit jacket.

You’re a real piece of work, Beckett.
This damned trip, along with everything else, had been a royal pain in the ass. While he was out of commission, he’d found a temporary way to get online, but only on a limited basis. Beyond the
strict instructions he’d been given when he first got his laptop, he had never strayed from protocol—until now. He’d restricted his usual routine, being on an unsecured setup, but hell if he’d call attention to his fuck-up. He would handle things his way but needed to get back online pronto.

Still, he had to admit, Jess Beckett picking this place had been a smart move on her part. With the rink closing at midnight, she knew he’d have to hustle to make it. And the locker had been a stroke of genius. If she’d walked into The Cutthroat toting his laptop, he had a whole different scenario planned for her. That would now have to wait for a time when she least expected it.

Baker smirked when he thought about spending quality time with that bitch.

The skate rink looked run-down, a reflection of its surroundings. The older neighborhood had a reputation for being rough, but Baker remembered a day when that hadn’t been the case. As he came closer to the group of black kids near the entrance, they grew quiet and watched him with wary eyes, as if he had a tattoo on his forehead marked with the word “outsider.”

When he got inside, the lights had been flipped on and the last customers were getting ready to leave. Rap music blared on the overhead speakers. There was no one behind the ticket counter, but he spotted the location of the lockers and began his search for the number written on the paper.

“We’re closed, mister.” A guy pushing a broom and picking up garbage yelled at him from across the rink.

“I’ll only be a second. My kid forgot something.” Baker turned his head, not giving the guy a clear look. He didn’t like the attention and had hoped to get in and out without notice.

After he found the right number, he stuffed Beckett’s note in his pocket and tried the key. When the locker opened, he saw his black computer bag inside. He pulled it out, unzipped it, and turned the laptop on. It had enough
juice to power up. He wanted to check the desktop to make sure it was actually his, but the damned manager or janitor kept watching him. Baker knew he wouldn’t have much time.

The monitor kicked its blue light across his chest and face as the screen popped on. After a minute, he had his answer. The laptop was his. But to drill down further, to see if the bitch had tampered with his stuff, he’d have to do a closer inspection elsewhere. He packed up his gear and headed out, shifting the shoulder bag tight under his arm and away from prying eyes.