Promises Page 15

  “That is all until—”

  “I know,” Araneae said, interrupting me. Her soft brown eyes pointed my way, “until this is over.” She waved her hands toward the doorway. “Then go, you three, figure it out. I want it over.”

  “See,” Patrick said as we all stood, “scary and bossy.”

  “That’s right. Remember who’s in charge,” Araneae called as we headed toward the elevator.

  Josey

  Twenty-one years ago~

  As we pulled up to the elementary school, I forced myself to remain calm. We’d known this time would come, yet that didn’t make it easier. As Byron turned my way with a weary smile, the car came to a stop in a parking spot. The one-story building loomed before us. To the average parent it was probably beautiful, a recently constructed school with all the amenities including a rubber-covered ground for the playground, a small backstop and field for kickball games, and a soccer field with child-sized goals on each end.

  The thing was that I wasn’t concerned about a skinned knee on a playground or if Renee would enjoy recess. My stomach knotted as I took in the open space around the school and the chain-link fences. My gaze darted to the surrounding streets.

  “Are you ready to show me your new school?” Byron asked, looking at Renee in the rearview mirror.

  “Yes!” Renee replied, bouncing in the back seat.

  Byron reached over and took my hand. “She’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s so open here. What if they’re watching her?” I asked in a low voice.

  Undoing her seat belt, Renee scooted toward the back door. “Come on. I want to see my class again. Oh, and my teacher, Daddy, she’s real pretty. Her name is Miss Macdonald...” She looked at me. “Right, Mom?”

  I grinned. We’d been working on learning her teacher’s name since the day we came to meet her. That was a week ago. Miss Macdonald was young with dark hair and an infectious smile. She’d greeted each child by bending down, talking directly to them, and calling them by name. She’d taken each child’s picture and promised to know all the names by tonight.

  School started tomorrow.

  “She’s excited,” my husband said. “Let her be excited.”

  I inhaled and exhaled, trying to live in the moment, and for once, not let Sparrow’s shadow haunt what should be an enjoyable milestone in Renee’s life.

  With Renee holding my hand on one side and Byron’s on the other, we walked into the school surrounded by other parents and children.

  “Do you remember the direction to your classroom?” Byron asked.

  I was busy looking at the entry. It was large and nicely decorated with glass doors that led to the outside and a web of hallways.

  “This way,” Renee said excitedly as she pulled us along.

  Byron peered at me over her head. Be excited for her, he mouthed.

  “I wonder if they lock the school during the day,” I asked quietly.

  “Look around at all of these students,” he replied. “They know what they’re doing here. This is one of the newest schools in the area.”

  Renee continued to tug until we came to her classroom door. On the wall beside the door was a colorful bulletin board covered in construction paper to look like a giant apple tree.

  “Look!” she said. “It’s me.”

  Sure enough it was.

  On the tree hung cutouts of apples, and on each apple was a child’s picture with their name spelled out beneath.

  “It says Renee Marsh,” she said, pointing to the name. “That’s me.”

  “Yes, sweetheart,” Byron replied, “it is you. Now where is this Miss McDonald?”

  “No, Daddy. It’s Macdonald like the song, not the restaurant.”

  I smiled. It was how we’d practiced, singing Old Macdonald had a farm.

  “You’re right,” he said with a laugh as she tugged us through the door.

  “Oh,” she sighed as her brown eyes grew wide and she took in the classroom.

  In the last week, Miss Macdonald had turned the relatively plain room into a kindergartener’s delight. There were tiny desks all in groupings of four and on each desk was a large colorful name tag.

  “Hello, Renee,” Miss Macdonald said in greeting us.

  “Hi,” she replied shyly with a grin. “Can I find my desk?”

  “May I,” I corrected.

  Miss Macdonald grinned my direction and turned back to Renee. “Yes, you may. See if you can find your name.”

  Letting go of our hands, our daughter ran toward the multiple groupings of desks as Miss Macdonald turned our direction. “Mr. and Mrs. Marsh, she will do wonderfully. It’s obvious how much you’ve worked with her.”

  “She loves to read,” I said, watching as she pointed to the top of her desk. I turned back to the teacher. “I should say for us to read to her, but she can read some too. We’ve been sounding out words.”

  The teacher nodded and tipped her head toward a cozy corner of the room. “Over there we have a bookcase full of books, levels one through three. And over there...” She pointed another direction. “...we have our work centers where the students will learn about letters and numbers. At this age their minds are wide open to new discoveries.”

  I tried to smile.

  “You seem apprehensive,” she said to me.

  “I’m...”

  Byron placed his arm around me. “Renee has always been home. Josey is having a little problem with the idea of her being away from us.”

  “I’m always open for parent helpers.”

  My eyes grew wide. “I’d love to do that.”

  “Great, let me get your contact information. I know this is difficult, but it’s part of growing up. I would love to have you help after the first two weeks.”

  “I can help tomorrow,” I volunteered.

  She smiled. “We find it’s better that for the first two weeks the children and parents make a clean break during the school day. It lets the students get accustomed to the routine. After that, when the parent comes in, the children usually don’t have a problem with the separation.”

  I nodded as I looked up to see Renee talking with another little girl.

  “She seems social for being home,” Miss Macdonald said.

  “We’ve been involved in play groups and we go to the library.”

  She reached out to my arm. “Mrs. Marsh, you’ve done a great job. I can’t wait to get to know Renee better.”

  “She is also very creative. She draws clothes for her dolls and we create patterns. I do the sewing, but she wants to.” I’m not ready for her to have sharp needles.

  “That’s a great way to encourage her imagination.” Miss Macdonald said before adding, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Byron hugged me as we watched Renee and her new friend make discoveries around the classroom. “She will be safe,” he said. “I was looking too. I saw cameras in the hallway.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I exhaled. “There’s also a door to the outside at the end of the hallway. Someone could—”

  He shook his head.

  I knew he was right. I was being overcautious. I’d considered homeschooling, but we agreed to make her childhood as normal as possible. I feigned a smile. “I’m volunteering at least once a week, more if they can use me.”

  “Of course, you are,” he said with a grin.

  By the time we and other parents were leaving, a peaceful feeling had settled, mostly instilled by Renee’s innocent anticipation. It helped that we met some of the parents of a few of her new classmates, exchanging telephone numbers and agreeing to get the children together outside of school.

  As we entered the hallway, I looked again at the corkboard, about to ask Renee if she could find her new friends’ pictures when my stomach dropped. Tugging her hand, I instead asked her the names as we hurried away.

  The tree wasn’t the same as it was when we entered.

  Renee’s picture and name were gone.

  Sterling

&n
bsp; “He’s still in Washington DC,” Patrick said as the three of us gathered on two.

  “If Lorna is right, this can’t go on. And I’m not taking any more chances with Araneae’s friends,” I said, spinning one of the chairs, straddling it, and leaning forward on the back.

  “What about Judge Landers?” Reid asked. “Araneae said she wants to meet with her.”

  I nodded. “Yes, when the judge met with me, she asked to speak to Araneae.”

  “I don’t like it,” Patrick replied. “It feels off.”

  Intuition. Gut.

  Sometimes it was more accurate than all the computer programs Reid could run.

  I ran my hand through my hair. “This is why I’m fucked,” I admitted this to the only people I’d ever admit failure to. When they both looked my direction, I went on, “With Araneae, I’m off my game. I agree that Landers is a liability. Her relationship with Rubio makes her one. But fuck, this is Araneae’s mother. The woman was told her baby died. Someone actually had a fucking dead baby for her to hold. She didn’t know.” I stood, pushing the rolling chair away as my pacing began. There was something about moving that helped me rationalize—helped me think.

  I stared at Reid and then Patrick and shook my head. “If Landers lied to me, the woman deserves a fucking Emmy. She checked herself into a psych ward. She thought her daughter died. She’s lived with that for twenty-six years. Connection to Rubio or not, she wants to know her daughter.”

  “You’re fucked because you’re not looking at this like the head of the Sparrow outfit,” Reid said. “You’re looking at this as Araneae’s man.”

  Her man? And here I thought she belonged to me. Maybe it was the other way, too.

  My feet were still moving. “If it were Lorna?”

  “I’d be fucked too,” Reid answered.

  I appreciated his honesty. It was why I could be totally upfront with these two. “I told Araneae I’d leave the decision to meet with Annabelle up to her. She wants to do it. It’s our job to make sure the meeting is secure. We have wherever it is surrounded by Sparrows. I told Annabelle that there was no way I would approve Rubio or Pauline. Pauline had her chance.”

  “I think Sinful Threads is where it should happen,” Patrick said. “Reid has the whole place covered in security cams. The office is small, less than a tenth of the size of Sparrow Enterprises offices. It’s easier to manage.”

  I nodded. “I agree. Now it’s up to Araneae and Annabelle to decide when that happens.”

  “I like it happening while McFadden is in Washington,” Reid said.

  “Then again, he was in Washington when the Toneys were taken. Like he’s purposely ordering this shit while he’s away,” I said.

  “Welcome back,” Patrick said with a grin.

  “Reid,” I said, “log into Stephanie’s computer. Check my schedule for tomorrow. If it’s feasible, I’m going to Washington.”

  “He’s not going to want to meet with you there. Too many questions if Sterling Sparrow walks into Senator McFadden’s office.”

  “I don’t give a fucking shit about his reputation.” My feet stopped moving as I turned to Reid and Patrick. “But you’re right, he does. Book me a suite at some upscale hotel, but not under my name. I don’t want him to have any warning. Once we’re there we’ll give him the option to come to us. If he doesn’t, we’ll go to him and bring the damn press if we have to. I’m done with this shit. I want Araneae to have a life here in Chicago. I don’t mind having her watched by you,” I nodded to Patrick. “As a matter of fact, I can’t see that stopping anytime soon. However, I don’t want her worrying about her friends. I want her to feel like she can go to a fucking bakery.”

  Both men looked at me.

  “Why a bakery?” Patrick asked.

  “Nothing, it’s just something she said once. The point is that we’ll always have enemies. That’s fine. They’re mine. The kidnapping of Louisa was a direct attack on her. Sylvester said so himself. He said he would have taken Araneae if he could have gotten to her. That fucker is dead, but McFadden has ten ready to take his place.”

  “But,” Reid said, “Sylvester said they wanted the evidence. There’s no evidence. You said that even Annabelle agreed.”

  “Then why is McFadden so sure it exists?” Patrick asked.

  “That’s what I intend to learn. Fuck, if it does, I’d consider a deal.”

  “It could ruin him,” Patrick said.

  “Or it can save Araneae.”

  Reid turned toward the computer. “You have two appointments regarding some upcoming bids first thing in the morning and a meeting with the mayor in the afternoon.”

  “Reschedule the mayor. He’ll wait,” I said. “Have the plane ready for as soon as the appointments are done. Once we’re in the hotel, we’ll contact Hillman and set up the meeting with Rubio. That way we’re set.” I turned toward Patrick. “I’d like you along, but if you’re there, the women are on lockdown again.”

  “I’ll go,” Reid said. “Do me good to get out.”

  I grinned. “And bring a crew. I want the suite watched and protected. We’re not taking any chances.” I turned specifically to Reid. “Are you okay with Lorna being here without you?”

  “I’m at Sinful Threads,” Patrick said, “and we can have a crew on one ready if she calls.”

  “This is a go,” I said. “Tomorrow I’m face-to-face with Rubio. This shit is over.”

  The Thomas Jefferson Suite within the Jefferson Hotel was a good size by suite standards. With a regal entry, a kitchen, dining area with a table for ten, multiple sitting areas—the largest with a view of the Washington monument—and two bedrooms, there was plenty of room for Reid to set up surveillance as well as some of our crew to be present yet hidden.

  “Hillman isn’t pleased,” I said to Reid, even though he’d been listening to my call and heard. “He said tomorrow because he’s back in Chicago. The Senate is in special session. He claims that McFadden is needed in a committee meeting for a vote on something this afternoon, and there’s no guarantee it will be resolved soon.”

  Reid smiled. “He didn’t sound like he was any happier about the second option.”

  I leaned back on the sofa and undid the button of my suit jacket. It was all part of the power play. McFadden would walk in here dressed for the Senate. I wasn’t going to look like I had just worked out. “No. My offer of showing up at his office in the Hart Building was not well received.”

  I looked at my watch. It was nearly three o’clock. With the two-hour flight and Reid coming ahead to get the technology and crew set up, we were right on schedule. The senator was due in the next half hour. Apparently, the vote wasn’t as important as keeping me away from the press at the Hart Building.

  Fifteen minutes later, our eyes in the lobby saw Rubio enter with another man.

  “He’s early,” Reid said as his fingers flew on a keyboard.

  He was running facial recognition on the man with Rubio. More than likely we’d talk alone. If he brought this other man into it, Reid would become visible. If McFadden entered alone, Reid would stay hidden.

  Through the years, I’d met with Rubio and he’d met with me. As my mother said last week, my father even went to him after Daniel McCrie was killed. We may not like or trust one another, but there were times that our combined power was better than either of us alone. That didn’t mean we wouldn’t take each other out in a second—we would. That was the life we lived, the edge of legality, the fine line between power and evil.

  We’d also both accomplished significant gains in our more legitimate endeavors. For that reason, it was important to keep our underworld activities in the shadows. However, if there was another attack on anyone connected to Araneae, I was ready to pull back the veil.

  We also had a suit at the door and rented the room next door. I wouldn’t allow more than one person to enter with McFadden or wait outside. If need be, any extras could be in the next room. Having multiple goons stationed outside t
he door set off alarms with hotel security.

  We both stood straighter as a knock echoed from the door. Nodding to me, Reid picked up his laptop and moved to the bedroom, shutting the door.

  A few seconds later, Derek, the suit at the door, opened the main entry as I stood. Pushing the door inward, Rubio entered, alone.

  “Sparrow, I’m not alone.” He looked around the suite. I was the only one visible.

  “I thought we could discuss this matter in private.”

  He nodded. “He can wait outside with your man.”

  Nearly thirty-five years my senior, Rubio McFadden had lost height since I was a boy. It’s true I was now taller, but he was definitely shorter. His once-dark hair was now whiter than it was black, and his once-toned body had lost its definition. In short, Rubio McFadden had aged. If my father were still alive, I like to believe he’d have aged better. If he were alive he would be one year older than Rubio.

  If my father were still alive, this meeting would include him, not me.

  My father was dead.

  “Have a seat.” I gestured toward the large oval dining table.

  He looked around the suite and out the large windows before taking the seat at the head of the table. “This is highly unusual. When your father was alive—”

  “We’re not here to discuss my father.”

  “He had more decorum than to ambush—”

  I let out a laugh, interrupting him again as I sat with my back against the wall, able to view the entire two rooms. “My father is dead, but he was most definitely not known for his decorum. Now, let’s move on. I hardly believe I’m the one who ambushed you, Rubio. Stay away from Araneae. I made that clear at the club. Perhaps Hillman didn’t pass along the information.”

  He leaned back in the high-back chair and shook his head. “I think you’re mistaken, son. I’ve been here in DC.”

  I wasn’t his son nor did I appreciate the power play, but that wasn’t my concern at the moment. “I know where you are and where you were. I also know where Sylvester Hicks was.”