Promises Page 12

  Yes, I could slip into the security brought on by our new names and lives.

  And then something would happen, something seemingly innocuous that would set my heart to racing and bring a cold layer of perspiration to my skin. Today it was a man who came to our door, saying that he was doing a survey for the next census.

  At first, I was fine, no alarms sounded, until Renee came running up behind me and peered up at him from the safety of behind my legs. Though the screen door was between us, my pulse sped up as the man smiled, a smile that twisted my stomach into knots. He lowered himself to his haunches and spoke directly to Renee.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?”

  She looked up at me with her chocolate eyes as I shook my head no.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “You can talk to me. Your mommy was talking to me.”

  I ran my hand over her soft, silky hair. I’d pulled what little bit she had back into two pigtails, reminding me of the youngest child on a show I watched as a kid. We teasingly called her Cindy when her hair was like that, me for the daughter on the Brady Bunch and Byron because he thought it made her look like Cindy Lou Who from Dr. Seuss, some of her favorite books for us to read.

  I tucked her behind me. “We’re teaching her not to speak to strangers,” I said, my neck straightening as I stared down at the man still staring at our daughter.

  Finally, when she wouldn’t answer, he stood back up to his height. “She sure is pretty, ma’am.”

  “Thank you. I believe we’re done with your survey.”

  He looked down at his clipboard. “Just the three of you living here?”

  “And Mr. Kitty,” Renee said in her sweet three-year-old voice.

  He bent back down. “You have a kitty?”

  Renee nodded. “That’s his name.”

  “Kitty is your cat’s name?”

  She nodded again, once more moving to behind my legs.

  He stood tall again. “I believe, Mrs. Marsh, that does it for now.”

  I started to take a step and close the solid door when he paused. “You all stay safe.”

  My stomach twisted, knots on top of knots, as my hands shook as I fumbled with the solid door and lock. Trying not to alarm Renee, I casually walked about the house. Door by door, I moved until I’d confirmed each outside door was secure.

  “Mommy, Mr. Kitty is out there,” Renee said, pointing to the backyard. “Memeba, you let him outside?”

  I peered beyond the taut white curtain obstructing the windows on our back door. Sure enough, sprawled out on the back deck, lying in the sun, was Mr. Kitty. I told myself he’d be all right. The backyard was fenced, a six-foot-tall wooden fence, and the gates were always closed and locked.

  “Go get him,” she said, her eyes pleading. “I don’t wants him outside with that man.”

  I looked again at the deck. Mr. Kitty hadn’t moved. Steeling my neck and shoulders, I unlocked and opened the door. Mr. Kitty’s head turned my way as my gaze scanned the yard beyond the deck to Renee’s swing set and sandbox. “Come on in, Mr. Kitty,” I said, talking to him while watching. As I reached down to lift him, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The side gate was open wide.

  Carrying Mr. Kitty and shooing Renee back into the house, I again locked the door.

  “Why did you say you didn’t want him with that man?” I asked, wondering what she’d seen.

  “‘Cause he was a stranger.”

  That didn’t answer my question though I hesitated to push, to alarm her in any way.

  Now, I was here with Byron, wanting him to share in my alarm, as Renee was in the living room singing and dancing to one of her Disney sing-along videotapes.

  He shrugged again. “I don’t know, Josey. I might have left it open after mowing the yard.”

  “You never leave it open. What if Mr. Kitty had gotten out?”

  “I don’t have an answer.” He reached for my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “I understand why you worry, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

  I lowered my voice. “Do you know that? Have you talked to Mr. Sparrow?”

  “No, Neal Curry is dead to the outfit. I can’t just call him. You know we have very specific instructions on sending information on Renee. I can’t just show up at Sparrow Enterprises. Remember, I also walked out on my job there. I’d be shot if I approached the house.”

  “What if that man was Sparrow’s?”

  “Then he saw what he was supposed to see. Renee is still here. So are we. We’re doing as we were told.”

  “I don’t like it. Maybe we could get away sooner rather than later?” I asked.

  “We need to save money. I’m doing that, but it takes time.”

  “What if Mr. Sparrow knows about the money? What if that man was a warning?” I stood straighter. “He told us to stay safe. Who does that?”

  “Maybe a kind gentleman who wants people to stay safe.”

  “I saw McCrie on the news the other day. He’s back to working for McFadden.”

  Byron shook his head. “Baby, that life is over for us. Don’t fixate on it.”

  “I still don’t understand why if McCrie works for McFadden, if his sister is married to Rubio, why McCrie would arrange for Allister Sparrow to watch over his daughter.”

  Byron opened the refrigerator and took out a beer. “When’s dinner?”

  I closed my eyes. “Think about it.”

  “I have,” he said through a clenched jaw. “I’ve spent three years thinking about it.”

  “And what have you decided?”

  “Maybe he didn’t ask for Sparrow’s help.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The paper said that...” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “...they announced the death of their child. Maybe neither McCrie nor his wife know she’s alive.” He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know.”

  “McCrie was at the hospital. I think he knew.”

  “You went to the hospital? Why haven’t you ever told me?” His hand went to his hair. “Oh my God, Josey, what if Sparrow would have found out.”

  “He’s the one who sent me.” I shrugged. “One of his people. I was supposed to get Renee. I couldn’t imagine giving up a child. I had to talk to the mother.” Tears came to my eyes. “She didn’t know. I wanted to tell her the truth so badly, to ease some of her pain. But what could I say? Your daughter isn’t dead, but I have to take her.” I peeked around the corner to the living room, confirming that Renee’s interest was on the television and not on us. I lifted my right arm. “She gave me this bracelet, telling me to please have it buried with her baby girl, Araneae.”

  “Araneae? Is that why you wanted her name to be Renee?”

  I nodded. “I hoped the one request could be granted by Sparrow’s people, the ones with the documents.”

  “I thought that was some old bracelet, one you said you didn’t want to leave behind.”

  “I didn’t lie to you, Byron. It is.”

  He lifted my wrist and looked at the charms dangling from the gold links. “What are you going to do with this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I imagine one day giving it to Renee, telling her it was from her birth mother and that she loved her too, like we do, so much that she knew that giving her to us was best, safest.”

  Byron shook his head. “You can’t tell her any of that. She can’t know how we got her.”

  “She knows she didn’t grow in my belly. When she asked about Patricia, next door, and why her tummy was getting bigger, I told her that babies grow in their mommies’ bellies. She made the natural assumption. I told her that even though she didn’t grow inside me, we loved her very much and she was our gift.”

  “She’s three years old.”

  “And she accepted it. No more questions.”

  He took a deep breath. “Next time, talk to me first before you tell her anything that could come back to hurt her.”

  “That’s what I’m tr
ying to avoid, hurting her. I’m being as honest as I can. She’s smart. She asks questions. She watches and sees. That’s why I’m afraid she saw that man in our yard.”

  “You don’t know that,” Byron said.

  I didn’t reply.

  “I’ll get new locks for the gates.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sterling

  The note in the package with the cell phone had directions for Kennedy to call as soon as she arrived from Chicago. If we were right and the house was being watched, our time was nearly up. The entire house silenced, holding a collective breath, as Bridget put the phone on speaker and pushed the call button.

  I nodded to Patrick and Mandy, telling them to send in Carlos’s men. Patrick had set this operation in motion, but now that I was here, I was in charge. Both men nodded as they sent their appropriate messages. The only instructions to the cartel men had been to rescue Louisa. If possible, I wanted the chance to question the kidnappers, but not as badly as I wanted Louisa safe. If the cartel got their kicks taking McFadden’s men out, they could go for it. Reid could trace all their electronics to confirm their connection to McFadden. If it wasn’t him, we were back to square one.

  “Ms. Hawkins?” a deep voice through the phone’s speaker asked, “Kennedy Hawkins?”

  Familiar chills of anticipation ran down my spine. This life wasn’t for the faint of heart. It took the right men and women to stare death in the face and walk away unscathed. To willingly face it time after time was either insanity or incredible fortitude. All of us gathered here were standing on the edge of a cliff, the spot where adrenaline kicks up the pulse and fingers blanch as they clench into fists. It was the fight-or-flight instinct that in people like us was defective.

  There was no flight, only fight.

  No backing away. No receding into hiding places.

  It was kill or be killed.

  Though I could say that people like Reid, Patrick, and I, as well as others in my outfit, acquired that psychological response in the army or in other branches of the military, it wouldn’t be completely accurate. With the three of us, I believed we honed it in the army, in the desert, and in decimated towns. However, to truly stand tall and unwavering and stare down the grim reaper time after time, that defective instinct had to be wired into your DNA. Only men and women with ice-cold hearts could do it and come back for more. We were a unique breed, a brotherhood when we worked together, mortal enemies when we didn’t.

  For most in this small house, we qualified, and today we were brothers and sisters working for one cause.

  Perhaps that DNA was another thing I should thank my father for.

  Maybe I would, when we met in hell.

  For others, this life—this business—was unbelievable, unfathomable.

  I couldn’t worry about Winnie or the doctor and how they would deal with the aftermath. Patrick had found the doctor through the cartel. She’d be well paid and if she talked, she’d die. It was the simple truth she understood well. If she didn’t comprehend that, she wouldn’t work for them.

  As for Winnie—and hopefully Louisa if she survived—their rose-colored glasses would never fit again. It was the hard truth.

  My eyes went to Patrick, wondering if he thought the voice on the phone sounded familiar. There was no distinct accent or unique characteristic. As I ran his question— “Ms. Hawkins? Kennedy Hawkins?”—through the databases of my mind, his voice sounded like every man while at the same time no man whom I knew.

  Thankfully, Reid was doing the same thing as I but not mentally—technologically. He was running the voice on the phone, via a connection on Patrick’s laptop, through thousands of voice patterns, looking for a match.

  “Yes, this is she,” Bridget replied to his question.

  I pointed upward. Her tone needed to be higher.

  Bridget cleared her throat—which I hoped sounded like nerves and not what it was.

  “May I please speak to Louisa?” Bridget asked, her voice quivered appropriately with a sprinkling of fear.

  “In a minute,” he replied hastily. “First, I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to do to see your friend again, and I mean not in a morgue.”

  I nodded, encouraging Bridget to get to Louisa.

  Her eyes were wide on me as she listened and spoke. “I want to be sure she’s all right. Please let me—”

  “Answer my question. Who’s your mother?”

  My stomach tightened. That wasn’t a simple answer.

  “My birth mother or the woman who raised me?”

  “Kennedy Hawkins’s mother.”

  “On my Kennedy birth certificate, it says Debbie Hawkins.”

  I exhaled.

  “Now please—” Bridget continued.

  “My client,” he interrupted, “wants the information—the evidence—your birth father hid.”

  She must have answered the question the way he wanted.

  Wait? Client?

  “I don’t have any information. That’s an old wives’ tale,” she said immediately as I said a silent thank-you to Patrick for his thorough work with briefing Bridget.

  “He thinks you do,” the man said. “He thinks that you have the key. Stop lying and get me the evidence. Once you do, you’re going to call me on this phone and arrange a transfer. Those CDs for Ms. Toney.”

  CDs?

  “I need to hear—”

  He continued to talk. “We have eyes. We know Sparrow is your fucking shadow; he won’t let you out of his or Kelly’s sight. Otherwise, it would be you here instead of your friend. Can you live with yourself if you let her take this fall?”

  “Please.”

  Damn, my hands fisted tighter, itching to strike. I wanted to climb through the fucking phone and take out this guy. At the moment, I didn’t care if it was in front of Louisa or not if I got to just watch him bleed out for the way he was talking to Araneae—even if it wasn’t her.

  “Better hurry...” He chuckled. “...and get Sparrow to help you because this lady here is about to have a kid—like any minute. We aren’t set up for no babies. Hate to have to kill two people because you can’t follow directions.”

  I sucked in a breath and looked to Patrick. I fucking wanted to hear commotion on the other end of this line.

  Where were Carlos’s men?

  “Please,” Bridget pleaded again, doing a great impression of Araneae, “let me speak to her. I need to know...She’s my best friend...May I-I see her?”

  It was risky for her to initiate a visual call, but keeping him on the line and confirming Louisa’s safety were the priorities.

  “Once you get the evidence,” he said, “you—not your bodyguard or Sparrow—will bring it to me. I suppose you know not to contact the police or feds. If I so much as hear a rumor that you’ve talked to the feds again...” His words trailed away before coming back louder, “What the fuck?”

  The line went silent, but not before a woman’s distant scream and the crackling and popping of gunfire erupted on the other end. It sounded like someone had set off a packet of firecrackers.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Bridget’s hand shook as she looked down at the screen that indicated the call had ended. “Was that? We didn’t get to talk to Louisa,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t even know her.” She looked up at me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sparrow.”

  Winnie and Jana were staring at Bridget, their eyes also moist with emotion as they held on to each other’s hands for comfort.

  My mind spun, wanting answers, worried about Louisa, and imagining the unimaginable task of telling Araneae news that would break her heart.

  “The man on the line said he was going to let her talk,” Patrick said, breaking the dooming silence. “That means she’s there. It also means that as of a few seconds ago, she was able to talk and that...” He turned to Mandy. “...your men are at the right place.”

  “I want answers,” I declared to the room. “We’re being watched. This house nee
ds to be secured.”

  Under the cover of night, three of our outfit’s men slipped out the back door and into the shadows. South Boulder wasn’t ready for a gun battle in a quiet neighborhood, but if we were approached, it would get one.

  The clock ticked. Yet time fucking stood still as the walls of Winnie’s house figuratively closed in around us.

  Araneae

  It felt good to leave our apartment, if only to the floor below. The elevator opened to an open area, a communal sitting room with sofas and chairs, reminding me of a lobby of a hotel.

  “Do you use this area much?”

  “No,” Lorna said. “Just another place to clean.”

  “I’m sorry. I should do more upstairs. It isn’t fair to you.”

  She waved her hand. “Don’t mind me. I’m upset about the lockdown too. Hopefully it will be resolved and your friend will be safe. I’m fine with what I do. I don’t have an amazing silk fashions design house to run.”

  My mind went to Sinful Threads and then to Louisa, Jason, and baby Kennedy. “The last time I talked to Sterling, he said her husband was found and should be fine.” I looked down at my phone. “I can’t believe I haven’t heard another word from him.”

  “Have you called or texted?”

  “A million times right after he left. Now, I’m as mad as I am curious. I hope he, Patrick, or Reid will tell me what they can, when they can.”

  She led me to the door on the right. “Come on in. Welcome to Reid’s and my home.”

  It made me smile, thinking that we all lived together, yet Lorna was able to consider this space theirs. “Do you mind my being here? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “No,” she said with a grin. “I like it. As you can imagine, this life doesn’t allow for many—okay, any—visitors. Having you here makes me feel like...” She shrugged. “...like I’m having a friend over for wine.”

  “And cheese,” I said. “You mentioned cheese.”

  As she opened the door, I stepped behind her and looked around at their home. “Oh goodness. I love it. It’s so different from upstairs and yet so spacious and you.”