Trust No One (16 page)

“Hands up!”

The command came from behind her. She spun to look, and another man hovered at the counter with a shotgun pointed at the clerk. He hadn’t seen her, or baseball cap man. Hadn’t even glanced their way, so that might mean baseball cap man was–

Before she could finish the thought,
‘in on it with him’
baseball cap man grabbed her in a rear choke hold and pressed a revolver muzzle to her head. Oh, really bright there, MJ. Very alert for a trained agent.

“Don’t shoot!” The clerk raised shaking hands in the air.

“Cooperate, honey, and this will all be over in a minute,” baseball cap man said in MJ’s ear.

“You don’t see me moving, do you?” she pointed out. Most criminals were stupid, it was best to explain things to them.

“Get the money,” shotgun crook yelled.

“I-I don’t have much–”

“Just get it.”

MJ watched it all unfold, her lagging brain now awake and functioning. Armed robbery. Were they going to rob the place and run, or did they mean to use the weapons? She watched the man with the shotgun. He was shaking badly. Drug addict needing a fix? Dangerous, if so. Nothing, life or death, was as important as that fix.

But the man holding her from behind wasn’t shaking. The muzzle against her head was steady.

Nerves, then for shotgun man?

The clerk opened the drawer, visibly trembling himself.

“What’s up?” MJ said, chatty and friendly.

“What’s it look like, are you some dummy?” baseball cap man answered.

“This isn’t the richest place to hit.”

“Shut up,” the shotgun man at the counter said without taking his eyes off the clerk. “Johnny, keep her quiet.”

Gang? She sized up the man in front of her. No obvious gang signs, but it was chillier here than in Texas, and they were bundled in jackets, gloves and cap. Their coats might be hiding gang clothes or tell tale tattoos, though there was an earring dangling out of shotgun man’s left ear.

“New career?”

“Honey, don’t think because you’re a woman that Boomer there won’t take you out if you don’t shut up.”

If a gang hit, did the guys get extra points for killing the victims? She didn’t think she’d take the time to hang around and find out.

“That’s all.” The clerk shoved the money across the counter. “All I have.”

Boomer, the shotgun man, shoved the money into his dirty pocket. Nice distraction. Especially since the grip from Johnny the baseball cap man behind her had slightly loosened.

A sharp sense of déjà vu from the Italian job blanketed her, although Keith’s man hadn’t had an arm wrapped around her throat. As adrenaline poured through her, she mentally prepared to take action but focused enough to keep her muscles loose so her captor wouldn’t suspect anything.

She drew a shallow breath. Now or never.

She punched straight up with her right fist into his wrist, knocking the gun arm away. She followed with a quick thrust of her elbow back into his ribs. His grip loosened and the gun clattered to the floor.

“What the hell?” Boomer turned around as she used momentum and took Johnny to the floor and followed with an axe kick to his head. He went cold.

Boomer pulled his shotgun up. She ducked and rolled and came up with the loose .357 Magnum. “You don’t want to do that,” she said to him when he pumped the shot gun. She cocked the hammer. Johnny boy liked heavy duty guns.

“That gun ain’t loaded.”

An old trick. She gave him brownie points for trying. “Nice, try.” She adjusted her aim and shot the dangling skull and crossbones earring off his left ear.

“Shit!” He grabbed his ear, stumbling a step backward into the counter, but managed to hold onto his shotgun. “You fucking tried to kill me.”

His ears had to be ringing, hers were, but she was used to it.

“If I’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead.” She lined up the barrel with his forehead. “Next one’s a bulls eye.” She eased back the hammer with a click.

He must have read the intent in her gaze. “Hey, wait, lady–”

“Put the shotgun on the counter. Carefully, so it doesn’t discharge. You don’t want to scare me into pulling the trigger.”

After Boomer put the shotgun down, she told the clerk, “Place the weapon on the floor behind the counter.” She pulled her cell phone with her left hand, punching 911.

She didn’t have any confidence the clerk could manage the phone call. Still visibly shaking, he looked quite green as if at any moment he was going to toss tonight’s dinner. 

“What’s the address?” she asked. When he told her, she added, “Why don’t you go splash water on your face, catch your breath.” He stumbled his way toward the back. MJ gave the dispatch the information then settled down to wait on the police.

By the time the cops arrived, and she’d given her statement and signed all the papers, almost two hours to the minute elapsed. When she finally drove out of the parking lot, the sun had long since risen high in the sky. At least she got a free large coffee and a sandwich for her trouble. She pulled out her phone to call Angel, but saw the battery low signal. Figured.

She plugged her phone into the car charger and turned back to the highway.

Chapter 9

Early afternoon found MJ about an hour away from her destination, and looking for a place to buy food. Lauryn wasn’t domestic in the least, had never been warm and welcoming, and MJ didn’t expect that to have changed with Ed’s death. Tasha, cold and reserved herself, didn’t seem to mind Lauryn’s lack of warmth, but MJ, used to her own mom’s hugs, found Lauryn a hard adjustment.

At a busy truck stop, MJ slid out of the car and stretched stiff muscles. The sun shone warmer than earlier, but the cold, crisp air definitely hinted promise of winter.

After a pit stop, and buying a turkey sandwich, spicy chips and a cold drink with an extra shot of caffeine, MJ called Dottie and learned Angelina was down for a nap—she had been cranky and asking for MJ since waking up in a strange bed.

MJ’s chest twisted into a tangled ball of pain. Poor Angelina. MJ knew all too well what it was like to miss the ones you loved. Only in her case, her parents hadn’t come back.

She would return for Angelina.

Chomping at the minutes ticking away, she planned to eat on the road, not wanting to waste any more time. With a quick bite of her sandwich and a check of her map, MJ put her Mustang into gear.

The road stretched endlessly, the miles of driving wearing. This last hour seemed longer than all the others combined. The ominous feeling that she would be hunting for Tasha forever and would never get back home nagged at MJ.

Heavier traffic at Indianapolis demanded extra attention and gave her something to temporarily focus on besides frustration. She began to look for exits and street signs to find the right neighborhood. Lauryn technically lived in Carmel, a little suburb north of Indy, and MJ found the place without any trouble. At last. Maybe now she could find some answers.

MJ checked the address and pulled into the driveway of a sleek, two-story brown brick house. She didn’t see a car in the driveway and with the closed garage door there was no way to tell if Lauryn—or anyone—was home. For all MJ knew, Lauryn could have remarried and moved.

Earlier when MJ had called no one answered. She’d left a message, figuring Lauryn was likely volunteering, her usual distraction. MJ parked her car and made her way to the front of the house. Lauryn opened the door just as MJ’s finger touched the doorbell.

“Good, you made it. I haven’t had a chance to return your call. I have to leave again soon.”

Hello to you, too, MJ thought. Lauryn definitely hadn’t changed. At least in manners. Looks, however, there was a subtle difference. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a severe style, which left gray showing at the temples. That shocked MJ. She always pictured Lauryn to be a cover-the-gray kind of woman.

“I don’t know where Tasha is,” Lauryn said, turning to head down the hallway, not bothering to invite MJ inside. She kept talking, as if she expected MJ to follow, which she did.

“She mailed you a letter, said to hold it for you.”

MJ mentioned in her message the need to find Tasha, not wanting her surrogate mother to think this was a social visit. “A letter? For me?”

Lauryn’s heels clicked on the tiled hallway. “Said you’d be here eventually to pick it up in person. I’d forgotten about it until you called.”

“How long ago?” Maybe MJ could put together some sort of timeline to tell when this mess started.

“Not too long after Ed died. I think. Time is a little fuzzy from then.” To Lauryn’s credit, her voice hitched, as if a knot had blocked her airway.

A small lump lodged in MJ’s throat as well.

“She stayed here a few days,” Lauryn discreetly cleared her throat and continued, “and went through some of Ed’s papers, attended the funeral, then left. A month or so later, the letter came."

“What papers?” And why had Lauryn allowed Tasha to rummage through Ed’s personal papers?

“Papers he gathered for you kids. I’m not sure what they were about.” She turned the corner and led the way into Ed’s office. “Most likely something related to work. You know Ed retired, but he never really stopped working. He lived that business.”

Unlike MJ, Ed had never been happy retired, had never taken well to relaxing. The last time she’d seen him, right before her last mission for Vista, he’d looked tenser than she’d ever seen him. That he died of a heart attack a few months later hadn’t come as a surprise. The odd idea occurred to her that something in those papers might have set Tasha off on this supposed killing spree. If it were something that bad, perhaps the information contributed to Ed’s heart attack.

Nah. Mentally MJ shook her head. She was being too paranoid, even for someone who had been trained to be paranoid.

“May I see those papers?”

“Tasha took them.”

More and more curious. Why hadn’t she mentioned it when they were playing chase?

“What about Niko, was he here?”

“He was here, too.”

MJ wondered about the papers, why Tasha had them, and why Niko had never mentioned anything about this. Did he know?

“Then Niko saw the papers as well?”

Lauryn shrugged in a manner indicating she’d wasted enough time. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s likely he did.”

MJ processed the thought that Niko knew and hadn’t told her. An unreasonable feeling of being betrayed swept through her. She couldn’t even trust the ones she loved.

At Ed’s desk, Lauryn rubbed her hand across the top of the polished wood surface, a distant, soft look shone in her eyes as if touching the inanimate object brought back memories of Ed. Lauryn was showing emotions she’d never revealed when MJ shared their home. Had Ed’s death opened the woman’s heart to reveal a vulnerable human?

Immediately, MJ’s cynical thoughts caused a trickle of remorse. She had her own memories of Ed at his desk, tie loosened perhaps, but never off, staring at the computer monitor, his marvelous brain working on the latest crisis. Why would his wife be any different with her own memories?

With a barely audible sniff, Lauryn came back to the present and opened the top right drawer. She handed MJ the letter. The typed address looked oddly formal and out of place. Why did Tasha send it here when she had so easily found her in Texas?

“I’ll be here for a little longer. If you need to stay, I’ll get you a spare key.”

There was no ‘I’d be happy to have you spend the night’, or ‘plan on staying for dinner’. Lauryn offered bare minimum as usual, but that was Lauryn, and MJ hardly gave it a second thought.

Once alone in Ed’s office, she walked around the room, tracing her fingers over the cherry bookshelves and matching desk. While this wasn’t the same house she’d grown up in, this was still Ed’s furniture, and she could almost swear she felt his presence hovering over her, making sure she learned what she needed. Had he set this up before his death, then? Leaving behind papers for some nefarious purpose to turn their lives upside down? No answers in speculating.

With a shrug, she leaned against a bookshelf, opened the envelope and pulled out Tasha’s letter, hoping for some answers.

Dear little sis:

If you’ve come to visit, enjoy your stay. If you’ve come looking for me, don’t worry, I’ll see you soon if I haven’t already. It might help to relax a bit, go fishing even. I know how we used to get bored and managed to get into trouble on every vacation, but perhaps the years have changed you. If not, stay out of trouble until I get there. Catch some fish.

Vacation? MJ drove halfway across the country to read a letter Tasha left about vacations? There’d only been a few family vacations at a cabin Ed bought, but rarely took time off from work to use. Each time they went there, MJ and Tasha did manage to get into trouble; but mainly because it was Tasha who bored easily and MJ went along to try to keep up with the older, beautiful girl. Tasha and the great outdoors never made a compatible pairing.