Accomplice (7 page)

Almost time.

Jessica hiked up the edge of the Carolina Mountain
trail, wishing she had packed better shoes. She still had some cash left, but
without the Visa cards that had gone missing on the bus, she was going to run
out of that soon enough. Best to make do with the same sneakers she had been
wearing most of the journey so far.

The late August air clung to her skin and cloyed
in her lungs, even though the sun had only been up an hour. The only part of
her that wasn't hot and sweaty was her palms, which were cold and clammy.

She glanced at the tri-fold tourist brochure that
contained the trail map. The scenic outlook she was headed for was not far away
now.

Early morning sunshine jetted horizontally through
the branches of the trees, alternately blinding her with its rays or playing
hide-and-seek behind the tall rock outcroppings. Despite the heat, the air
smelled sweet. Pure. Nothing like in LA where smog and cheap perfume
infiltrated everything.

She turned a corner and found herself in a small
clearing with a rustic pine railing along one side. Gingerly, she stepped to
the edge and glanced down.

A deep ravine cut through the mountain, falling
over a hundred yards before the tree branches obscured it. She stepped back and
looked around, running her fingers lightly across the guidepost sign that stood
by the railing. Underneath the Plexiglas cover was a laminate version of the
paper map that she held.

The spot was deserted, but it was early on a
Sunday morning when tourists were still in bed and locals were at church.

She was alone.

Jess sat down on the one bench and crossed her
arms over her chest, spent from the long hike from her motel to the park, and
then up the trail.

Ridiculous to have thought Tallie Wilson would
come in the flesh. Hell, these days, the woman probably had as many bodyguards
as Jessica.

It would do neither of them any good to be seen
talking, and it was too much to make it look like a chance meeting. The Mrs.
Grant Wilson that stood by her man at every political rally was never seen
without makeup, heels, or pantyhose. She would never come hiking in the woods
alone.

Maybe she never saw Jessica’s message.

There were only so many ways you could contact a
Senator's wife without half of the western world digging it up and reporting it
to the six o’clock news. Especially when you were the tart who tempted her
high-ranking husband to stray. After that story had run its course, there had been
nothing else for them to say to each other. But Jess had never stopped checking
for messages, and had chanced sending one of her own before she left LA.

She picked at the hem of her shirt as she tried to
decide what to do next. She hadn’t really expected Tallie to uphold her end of
their pact. It was time to get herself together and get out of the country.
Getting to the safe deposit box where a passport with her picture on it was
hidden would take most of her remaining cash, but she could make it. She had
started from nowhere once before. She could do it again.

She bent down to flick some mud off of her ruined
shoes.

It was then that she saw the envelope taped to the
bottom of the trail guidepost sign.

***

The small church cemetery was quaint and well-tended.
The street side was lined with pine trees that blocked most of the traffic
noise, the grass was a brilliant green and immaculately tended, and individual plots
teemed with fresh flowers. Pretty nice given the modest gravestones and the
working class neighborhood in which it sat.

Noah leaned back against the back of the bench,
absently rubbing his sore shoulder. The whole case was like trying to fit
together a puzzle without knowing what it was supposed to look like.

Jessica and her late husband used a thinly veiled
charity organization to give away a lot of their money without attaching their
names to the checks. Nothing wrong with that, and wise given that some of the
charities on their lists might not have accepted their money. This little
church cemetery had received regular contributions for several years, though
Noah would be damned if he knew why.

Who died here? He wished he had access to some of
the FBI databases to cross-check names and dates. Old-fashioned internet
searches hadn't turned up any clues linking the adult model to this part of Asheville,
North Carolina.

He downed the remainder of his bottle of water and
stood to leave.
Face it, man. You drove all this way for nothing.

He stood and carefully stretched, then began a
leisurely walk back toward the small bed-and-breakfast he had checked into that
morning. He told Cole that he was taking advantage of his medical leave to get
out of the city and recuperate.

A light-blue older Honda Civic ambled down the
street passed him and turned a block farther down. Noah frowned. That was the
third time this morning that he had noticed that particular car.

Some local running errands.

He didn’t know why the small figure across the
street first caught his attention. She was dressed like a college kid—jet black
hair that stuck to her head in sweaty curls above face pink with heat, cutoff
jean shorts, baggy t-shirt that didn’t quite disguise the trim figure
underneath. A backpack that hid the curve of her hips but molded the front of
her t-shirt to her breasts.

It was the figure.

It was
her
figure.

Excitement and relief poured through him, leaving
his gut in a tangle of nerves. Jessica was safe. She was here. Not out of the
country. Not in rehab. Not rendezvousing with a secret lover.

Not dead.

She didn’t look around, just walked with a
determination to her stride that he had never really noticed before. Had he
ever seen her out of stilettos?

Noah crossed the street at the end of the block
and turned to follow her from a safe distance. She turned onto a street lined
with small craft and antique shops, cafes and florists, built into old wooden
homes. There were a few more people here, window shopping or soaking in the
morning sunshine while they sipped their coffee. He was able to get a little
closer.

What if it wasn’t Jessica? He hadn’t actually seen
her face yet. The nervous excitement he had been feeling turned to dread. What
if the lady he was following called the cops to report a strange man stalking
her?

She was headed towards the newer commercial strip
near the highway. If she had a car waiting there, he would lose her again. He
picked up the pace. He had to know.

The woman disappeared down an alley between a
couple of buildings, and he hesitated to follow. The alley seemed to dump into
another alley that ran between shops on this street and larger, warehouse-style
buildings with few windows on the other.

The rattle of an air conditioning unit drowned out
the sound of her footsteps. Noah peered around the corner. She was still there,
about a quarter of the way to the street at the far end.

A car pulled into the alley and Noah pulled back
against the wall in the shadow of a dumpster. The woman’s footsteps slowed and
she put her head down and headed towards the wall to make way.

The car was blue. Light blue. And it slowed to a
stop as it neared the woman.

***

Jessica froze as the door of the car opened and a
large man in khakis, a golf shirt, and sunglasses slid out of the driver’s
seat.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he
drawled.

Jess took a step backwards, cursing herself. Just
a few more blocks to the bus station. Her feet were killing her from this
morning’s hike, and she just wanted to take a shortcut. It was ten o’clock in
the morning, for heavens’ sake. Since when did tourists get mugged at ten
o’clock in the morning?

“I don’t have any money.” She took another step
backwards.

“It’s not your money the boss is after. He just
wants to have a chat with you. Jessica.”

The oxygen left her lungs in a whoosh. She took
another step backwards and nearly tripped on a bump in the blacktop road. “Who
are you? Who is your boss?”

The man smiled. “A friend of yours. Come on and
get in. I’ll take you to him. He says he wants to talk about a necklace.”

She turned and ran.

The thug behind her shouted something. Heavy
footsteps pounded after hers as she dashed as fast as she could back towards
the side street. If she could get back to the main drag, she could get away. Or
at least scream her head off until the goon went away.

Her lungs burned and her legs screamed in pain.

Still the footsteps neared.

She was nearly to the corner. Just a few more
steps. She pushed her legs as fast as she could. She had never been much of a
runner.

She jerked forward and fell to her knees as the
man grabbed her backpack and yanked her down. She caught herself heavily with
her hands, barley missing the ground with her cheeks. She tried to pull away
and shrug off the bag, but he gave another savage yank that nearly lifted her
off the ground.

Then a shadow passed over her and she heard a
growl like some kind of animal and the goon released the hold on her pack. She
scrambled to her knees and then to her feet and began running. After a few
steps, she chanced a glance behind her. Another man.

She got the impression of a light-colored linen
sport jacket, jeans, and golden brown hair. The newcomer seemed to be getting
the best of the man from the car. But she had no intention of thanking her
savior. She left the two men to their fight and ran as fast as she could back
down the alley until she re-emerged onto the street, in between a Starbucks and
a bakery that advertised fresh baked dog treats.

A couple of women in church hats gave her a
strange look as she tried to catch her breath. She ducked inside the Starbucks
and found her way to the bathroom as fast as she could.

It wasn’t until she had the door safely locked
behind her that she sank down to the polished concrete floor and gave into
heavy, heaving sobs, the charred scent of brewing coffee making her empty
stomach turn over.

Someone pounded on the door and Jessica’s stomach
clenched in fear.

“Is someone in there?” The voice was female.

Jessica stood up and flushed the empty toilet. She
ran the water in the sink and splashed cold water on her face to wash off a
smudge of dirt—from the alley or mountain, she didn’t know.

One strap of her backpack was torn, but there was
no help for it. She had left the rest of the duffel bag in her hotel room, not really
expecting to make it back before checkout time.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to put on a calm
face, an indifferent one. One that hadn’t just run in terror from two attackers
in an alley. A face that wasn’t about to leave what was left of her identity
behind and start a new life in a new country.

She scanned the street quickly for signs of any
blue cars before she ducked out of the doorway. There was a large church on the
opposite corner. If she was lucky, she could get lost in the crowd of
parishioners.

Her foot tapping impatiently, she waited for a
green light at the crosswalk. A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped at the
familiar-sounding timbre of the man’s voice.

“Jessica.”

The FBI had found her.

He
had found her.

The brown of Noah's eyes was deeper than she remembered
his pupils large and dilated. His temples and cheekbones were flushed red with
exertion, though the rest of his complexion had a pale undertone. His linen
blazer was wrinkled and dirty. She wasn’t sure whether to run towards or away
from him.
It was him in the alley just now.

“We need to get off the streets.” He took her by
the elbow.

The stoplight went green, and he led her calmly
across the traffic lanes. With a glance over his shoulder, he pushed open the
glass door to a drugstore and ushered her inside with his palm on the small of
her back.

“Did you know that man?” His whisper from over her
shoulder low and his breath tickled her ear. It sent a shiver down her back

“Shouldn’t you read me my rights first?”

An older woman pushed past them with a miniature
shopping cart.

Jessica pulled free from Noah’s grip. He let her
go immediately, and she nearly stumbled backwards into a display of shampoo
bottles. “What is going on, Grayson?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and said
through gritted teeth. “That was my question.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. Not without my
lawyer.”

He looked at something over her shoulder, then
grabbed her by the arm and pulled her farther into the store and away from the
front windows. “Fine. Don’t talk. I don’t care if the man from the alley is
your long lost love or a gang banger. But he won’t be happy to see me again,
that’s for damned sure.”

She opened her mouth, but he pulled her around
behind one of the end caps that held a display of university logo merchandise.
He dug through the hangers of shirts.

“Aren’t you going to arrest me?”

Noah shoved a bright red shirt and a baseball cap
at her. “Not yet. Let’s go.”

He headed for the cashier carrying a sweatshirt of
his own.

Jessica glanced towards the front door. She
thought she saw a glimpse of light blue car amble slowly past. Whoever the goon
worked for, it wasn’t the FBI. Federal prison might be safer than visiting the
‘boss’. She hurried after Noah.

“That will be twenty-two ninety-six,” said the
lady behind the counter. She had kind eyes and enough beard to make a teenage
boy jealous.

Noah handed over some cash and shoved a shirt and
hat at Jess.

She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Those are yours.”

“Um, I’ll pass.”

“Just put them on.” At the door to what looked
like a rear parking lot, he quickly removed his jacket.

Jess caught a glimpse of a leather gun holster
before he shrugged on a sweatshirt that was far too heavy for the hot day. The
sight of the gun made her stomach flutter. She followed suit and put her new
shirt and baseball cap on.

Neither of them said a word as she followed him
down the street. The crowd was picking up now that church services were done
for the day. Jess startled every time she saw a man in khaki pants with a black
shirt.

Finally, Noah pulled her close and wrapped a firm
arm around her waist, pulling her close against his tall, lean length. The
contact sent a thrill of something down her that she didn’t have time to
analyze.

“Cut it out.” He whispered down into her ear. His
breath was warm and gentle on her neck. It felt like a lovers’ caress, not like
the words of a federal agent to a suspect.

“Cut what out?” she said, trying to put space
between them.

“Looking over your shoulder like you’re afraid
someone is following you.”

“I am afraid someone is following me. Someone
attacked me in the alley just now, remember?”

“I was there, remember?”

“Not really. I was too busy running for my life.”
She tried to shrug off his arm again, but he kept a firm hold on her.

They turned a corner. The street looked more
residential, with Victorian-style homes with round turrets and wide front
porches and manicured gardens with tiny gates. It was the kind of neighborhood
she had always loved looking at when she was a kid. The houses always looked so
clean and happy and welcoming.

 He paused in front of one with a Bed and
Breakfast sign over arched trellis that led to the front door. He turned to
face her “Who was the guy in the alley?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did he want?” His voice was flat.

“I don’t know.” His eyes bored into hers until she
couldn’t take it any longer. She looked away. “You can let me go now.”

She tried to push past him and bumped him in the
arm with her backpack.

He winced and his face paled, and he caught her by
the hand, lacing his fingers through hers in a gesture that would be sweet and
lover-ly if his grip weren’t as tough as iron. “I can’t do that.”

“I thought you said I’m not under arrest.”

“I said ‘not yet’. I have been looking for you all
over the country. All over two of them. Now that I found you, I want answers.”

She lifted her chin a notch higher. “Get a
warrant.”

He stared her down. “Would you rather I drove you
back to that alley? Maybe your pal there will give me some answers.”

Jessica felt the blood drain from her face.

***

Noah took Jessica by the hand and pulled her into
the front parlor of the bed and breakfast. Her fingertips were frigid.

He stopped her in front of a Queen Anne settee
upholstered in Pepto Bismo pink velour. “Sit.”

She glanced down at their still-joined hands and
extracted her fingers from his before perching warily on the edge of the couch.
Jess wrapped her arms around herself and hunched over. She looked thinner and
the dark smudges under her eyes were definitely not mascara. With the harsh
haircut and the shocking black color, she looked more like a college student
than a starlet.

The place seemed deserted now, but he had no idea
whether other guests or the owners were lurking about. He wished he had a more
private space, but taking her to his room was wrong for all the wrong reasons.
He tried to swallow, to wet his parched lips. Must have been the run. “How did
you get here? To Asheville?”

Her eyes flashed. “Magic carpet.”

Noah turned and stalked to the lace-draped bay
window. He glanced up and down the street, half expecting to see the thugs from
the alley cruising by. The only moving creature was a squirrel, jumping from
bush to bush under the shade of a large magnolia. The quiet should have relaxed
him, but adrenaline still flowed through him.

“I can't help you unless you trust me.”

She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, and he
felt himself drowning in the blue of her eyes. How could anyone see those eyes
and not recognize her?

“Does that mean you are offering me a plea deal?”
she asked.

“Does that mean you are guilty of a crime?”

She made a small harrumphing noise and stared down
at the end table instead.

Irritation shot through him. “Look, Jessica, I
need answers. I can't help you until I know what is going on. Did you know that
guy in the alley?”

“No.” She picked at a lace doily with ragged
fingernails.

He sat on a wing chair covered in some kind of
shiny blue and white striped fabric. It reminded him of his grandmother's
house, all flowers and stripes and perfect dustlessness. The kind of place
where a little boy was expected to sit straight and not wiggle. And sure as
hell not get dirt on the carpet.

His only consolation was that Jessica looked
equally uncomfortable. He rested his elbows on his knees and tried to catch her
gaze. “Did the thugs know you?”

“Shouldn't you be calling for backup or something?”

“I'm off duty.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel more
comfortable?”

“I can protect you if you tell me who you're
running from.”

Her eyes flashed again. “What if I'm running from
you?”

Her words hit him square in the chest and he sat
back. She was right. What would he do if she was running from him—from the FBI?

Turn her in.

His conscience had no doubts. His training had no
doubts. His sense of duty had no doubts. But his wounded shoulder hurt like
hell and Cole’s words haunted him.

“You're right, Jess. You shouldn't trust me. While
you were on your 'magic carpet ride', someone tried to break into your house.”

She didn’t look surprised. “I saw it on the news.”

“What were they after?”

She rolled her eyes. “Cash? Electronics? My
underwear? What are thieves usually after.”

Was that a quiver in her voice? “What about your
jewelry?”

Her hand balled into a fist, pulling the doily off
the table and toppling a stack of crystal coasters. They hit the wood floor
with a discordant ring, the glass disks sliding across the floor. One stopped a
few inches from Noah’s feet.

Noah knelt down on the floor to pick it up. The
sunlight refracted through the facets, shooting tiny rainbows around the floor
as he picked it up. “Lucky they didn’t break.”

He collected two more coasters and the small
silver-plated holder. He reached for the fourth coaster, near the toes of
Jessica’s dirty sneakers. He winced as he stretched out his arm towards it and
pulled up short as she set her foot on top of it.

Noah sat back on his knees and looked up at her,
still perched on the sofa.

“You were the cop who was shot, weren’t you?” The
words were a whisper and her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. Fear or
surprise? Or something else?

Taking a deep breath, he weighed his options. One
call to Cole and the local Feds would be on the doorstep to take her into
custody. But unless Cutlass had plugged all the leaking holes in the case
against her, she would be released after a few hours. And be on a plane to some
country without an extradition treaty.

Jessica held all the keys to the mystery.

“Yeah. That was me. How did you guess?”

“Your shoulder is bleeding.”