The Chase: A Novel (50 page)

“The man I love was almost murdered! Someone tried to shoot him in the back!” She was shouting. Two nurses walking past turned to look at her. Claire flushed and lowered her voice. “Elgin tried to murder him.”

“So now you are in love with him?” Jean-Léon asked. He sounded resigned.

“Yes, I am,” Claire said firmly.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I am trying to protect you?” he returned. “And I did a bit of checking. There was a rumor that Elgin died, and maybe it’s true. And I certainly did not lie about Bill Marshall. The police believe the murder to have been a pointless mugging.”

“It wasn’t a pointless mugging,” Claire whispered.

“Why can’t you let things alone?”

“I can’t because I love him and he could be dead right now. Elgin has to be caught, Dad.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that he is using you, Claire? Ruthlessly, for his own ends?”

She took short, hard breaths. “No, Dad. It has not occurred to me that he might be using me,” she said, but his words struck a painful and frightening chord. Ian had used her initially to try and get close to David. But Claire would not consider that he might still be using her. Now she summoned up all of her courage. “What’s occurred to me is that you are trying to protect Elgin,” she said.

Absolute silence fell.

“Dad?”

“I am trying my best to protect you, but you aren’t being very cooperative, Claire,” her father rebutted.

“I know that Elgin is your brother
.”?

He was silent again. He did not deny her words.

Claire tried to tell if the silence was one of surprise and shock, or resignation and acceptance. She could not tell. “Dad? He’s a killer.
A ruthless, cold-blooded killer
. He has to be brought in. You can help.
Please help.”

“I need to think about this,” Jean-Léon said. “I’m going to come to New York tonight. We should meet. We’ll talk about everything then.”

“All right,” Claire said, sagging against the wall.
He hadn’t denied it.
She had been hoping, foolishly, that he would. The child who lived within her harbored a foolish notion that Elgin was not William Duke and that William wasn’t Jean-Léon’s brother, and that there was some reasonable and sane explanation for everything. Claire felt overwhelmed. Could she really handle this?

“Claire? We have to meet tonight, as soon as I get to town,” Jean-Léon said firmly.

Claire gripped the tiny phone. “Okay. I can meet you tonight. When and where?” she asked harshly—before the phone was ripped right out of her hands.

Claire cried out. But it was Ian who had ripped the phone from her hand, snapping the lid closed.

Claire stared at him in absolute disbelief.

He stared back, his eyes wide, incredulous, angry. “What the hell do you think you are doing, Claire?”

“I . . .” Claire gasped, still shocked that he would tear the phone right from her hand. She had never seen him so angry, and she flinched. “I was trying to help. I asked
him
to help
us.”

He was so angry that he couldn’t speak. Claire’s own anger disappeared as he turned and walked back to his bed. He was wearing a hospital gown that was gaping in the back, and in other circumstances, it might have been funny or awkward, but it was not. He climbed into the bed, where he seemed to collapse. Perspiration beaded his brow.

“I was trying to help,” Claire insisted.

He turned his head to look at her. “Do you want to be the death of me, Claire?”

She stiffened as if stabbed with a red-hot poker. “That’s not fair.”

“No, that’s not fair, and neither is life. Eddy’s death, my father’s, David’s, none of that is fair. I do not trust your father, Claire.” He stared at her. “And neither should you.”

She was frightened all over again. “But it’s William,” she whispered.

He hesitated. “That’s your theory, not mine.”

“No, Ian.” Claire shook her head. “Please don’t do this.”

He had closed his eyes. For one moment, Claire blinked, thinking he had fallen asleep. But his lids lifted, and his regard was direct. “There’s a reason I wanted you to go home. Now you know what that reason is.”

Claire didn’t want to hear any more.

“I am going to do whatever I have to in order to end this hunt once and for all. I will bring Elgin in, Claire—no matter who he really is.”

Claire didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t think. She could only feel sick with fear.

There was a knock on the door. Claire was relieved by the interruption. Lisa Marshall, Ian’s sister, was standing in the doorway with an armful of flowers. They had met briefly earlier; Lisa was small and blond and very pretty, too pretty, Claire thought, to be in the FBI. She was chic in a pleated, navy blue skirt that did not cover her knees, and a short matching jacket. She smiled at Claire, her eyes shining with excitement, and deposited the flowers on the windowsill with half a dozen other arrangements.

“You’re back,” Ian murmured.

“Not only am I back, have I got news,” Lisa said, settling down on the foot of his bed. “Guess what we found in the apartment across the street?”

“Spent casings?”

“No kidding. Guess again. There’s more.” She smiled at Claire.

“I’m too tired to play twenty questions,” Ian said.

“He’s done it again, Ian. He left this behind.” Lisa tossed a tiny object in a plastic bag onto the bed.

Claire stood up in order to see and realized she was looking at an extremely small knife, the size of nail clippers. It looked unused. Claire came closer. “Oh my God,” she said. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes,” Ian said harshly. “It is. It’s a goddamn thumb knife.”

“He’s playing with you, Ian,” Lisa said, no longer smiling. “This looks to be new and clean as a whistle. Still, he dropped it off as his calling card. I don’t think he even meant to kill you. I think he meant to miss.”

“That’s pure speculation,” Ian said.

Lisa stood. “It’s my gut.” She picked up the bag. “This is going to my favorite lab rat, and how much do you want to bet this is the exact type of weapon that did in Hayden and Suttill?”

Ian did not answer.

Claire stared at the knife, thinking how strange it was that such a tiny object could inflict so much death.

“After this one, bro, you owe me big-time.”

“Anything,” he said, waving somewhat tiredly at her.

Lisa grinned. “Set me up with that hunk Feinstein, will you?”

Claire realized that Ian was exhausted. She moved to his side. “You need some sleep, Ian.”

“She’s been mothering me for hours,” Ian said to Lisa.

“Smart woman. The way to his heart is Gap jeans and chicken soup, but make sure there’s toe cleavage.”

Claire looked at her. She was too numb to reply.

Lisa turned to Ian. “Duke’s in custody right now. He has an alibi for the time of the shooting.”

“No surprise there.”

“No. And we still can’t make the hit man from Wales.” Lisa hesitated and glanced at Claire. “We’re going to get a search warrant for William’s residence, Ian. See if we can’t find a trail tying him to either hit, or Hayden, or even Elgin.”

“About time,” Ian said.

Lisa shrugged. “Hey, we’re the best.”

Claire looked from one to the other, her fear far more intense now.

Lisa glanced at her again.

“What is it?” Claire whispered, unable to move. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”

“I need to speak with Ian alone,” Lisa said.

It was about Jean-Léon.
Claire just knew it.

“Give us a moment, Claire,” Ian said kindly.

Claire looked at him, and her eyes felt pried open with crowbars. She turned and left the room, but she did not shut the door. It was almost impossible to get enough air now. Her breathing was harsh, making it impossible to eavesdrop, which was what she had to do.

But as she stood outside the hospital room, Lisa came to the door. She smiled at Claire, then closed the door in her face.

Claire fell against the wall, overcome with panic. What were they discussing?

“Hi, Claire. What are you doing?”

Claire blinked and saw Leonard Feinstein standing before her, holding a paper bag. Succulent aromas were coming from it. Claire had to guess Chinese.

Claire tried to find her voice. “Hanging.” Her smile felt sickly.

“Are you all right?” He looked closely at her.

To her horror, she shook her head no and felt tears welling.

“Can I help?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Only if you produce Elgin—and he isn’t someone I love.”

Feinstein stared. Before he could respond, the door to Ian’s room opened.

“Oh,” Lisa said in real surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”

Feinstein seemed to be flushing. He held up the bag. “Can’t let our big guy starve.”

“Feinstein to the rescue,” Lisa agreed, sniffing. “Chinese?”

“French Thai.”

Claire hardly heard their exchange. She walked slowly past them and found herself staring at Ian. He stared back.

Claire didn’t know how long she stood in the center of his room, locking gazes with him. But there was no mistaking the look in his eyes—he felt sorry for her.

Lisa breezed in. “The Feinstein Food Squad is here, and I gotta go. Sleep tight, bro,” she said, leaning over Ian and kissing his cheek. “No naughty dreams.” She smiled at Claire. “Are you going to stay for a while?”

Claire nodded.

“If you wait a minute, I can give you a ride,” Leonard said somewhat stiffly to Lisa. “I have a driver downstairs.”

“Too cool,” Lisa said, with nonchalance that belied her previous statement of interest in the man. “But I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“You won’t,” he returned. He walked over to Ian. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked, placing the bag of takeout on the bureau.

“Let’s touch base first thing tomorrow,” Ian said.

“Okay.”

Claire didn’t like their conversation. She felt an unspoken communication between them. Or was she now thoroughly paranoid?

Leonard picked up his briefcase. “You be careful,” he told Ian. “And you have one helluva woman to count on, so listen to her if she has something to say.” He smiled at Claire. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

Claire nodded, trying to smile. It was hopeless.

Lisa suddenly came up to Claire and hugged her. “Take care of him,” she said with a smile, but she mouthed,
Be careful
, and then she and Leonard waved and walked out. Lisa’s voice drifted back from the hall: “Hey, what about a quick martini?”

Claire faced Ian again. “What is it?”

“Your father has disappeared, Claire.”

Claire stared, his words echoing in her mind. “That’s crap. He hasn’t disappeared. I just spoke to him. He’s in Chicago.”

“Claire. The police want to bring him in for questioning, and he has disappeared—no one knows where he’s gone.”

Claire inhaled hard. Tears burned her lids. A memory she had forgotten for too many years to count suddenly assailed her. She had owned a horse as a child, and when she was about thirteen, it had run away with her. She had fallen off while on the trail.

Claire remembered returning home, bruised and still frightened, knowing how hard it would be to take her horse out on the trail again. Jean-Léon had been on the phone when she walked into the house, and even though he saw her, he nodded at her to wait. William had been sipping a drink on the patio. He had taken one look at her, seen that something was wrong, and sat her down and gently encouraged her to tell him what had happened, and finally, to reveal her worst fears. By the time Jean-Léon joined them, Claire wasn’t afraid of the idea of taking the horse out again, and she had been smiling and laughing at William’s jokes.

William Duke had always been one of the kindest men she knew.

Her father had been the one who was remote and difficult to reach.

“We had better talk.”

Claire wanted to weep. “Not tonight.”

“Then when, Claire? You tell me when.”

She bit her lip. Her pulse felt explosive now. “All right. Because I can’t take it anymore.
You think Elgin is my father.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You don’t know anything!” she shouted. “So why did you arrest William if you are really after Jean-Léon?”

“William hasn’t been arrested—no one has. And I am not the one who arrests anyone. And”—he hesitated—”damn it, Claire, I hope I am wrong.”

“I have to go. I need to crash. It’s been a long day.” She whirled away.

“Wait! He’ll contact you again!” Ian cried.

That stopped her in her tracks. Slowly, Claire turned. “What?”

“I heard a part of your phone conversation. You agreed to meet with him.”

Claire was stunned. “That was before.”

“No,” Ian said.

“Don’t do this, Ian. Not if you care about me.”

He was the one to make a harsh and ragged sound now. “This is bigger than you and me, Claire. Why can’t you see that?”

She shook her head. “It’s my life. My life, my father—the only family I have.”

“Elgin has done despicable things. But it’s more than Eddy’s murder, it’s more than the others. He was a part of the Nazi war machine, Claire. Just one tiny cog, but he was a part of it. And that is inherently unforgivable, and there must be retribution.”

“I’m going home,” Claire said, then realized that the only place she had to go was Ian’s condo. Of course, she would not stay there now. She would never stay there again.

“Please. Wait.”

His tone was anguished, but Claire was having trouble with her limbs, anyway. Her body did not seem capable of obeying her brain.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, his gaze earnest and pleading all at once. “Not intentionally. That has never been my intention.”

Claire was reeling. “I think it’s too late.” And it was. It was just too damn late for sorrow and regret, and it was certainly too late for them.

“Claire, I love you.”

She almost laughed, but it would have been a tearful sound. “I have to go.” She knew she would have given anything to hear those words in another time and place. Now they didn’t matter.

He’s using you ruthlessly.
Out of nowhere, her father’s horrible statement pierced her mind. Of course, Jean-Léon was wrong. Ian was not using her. Claire knew that for a fact.