9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog (2 page)

Getting the sense we were being watched, I scanned the area and found Jack staring at us. Wanting him to know I saw him and that I didn't like being observed like some sort of animal in a zoo enclosure, I waved at him with exaggerated enthusiasm.

He acknowledged my silent sarcasm with a dip of his head, but didn't look away.

"You know him?" Zeke asked.

"He’s a reporter. We met a couple of times at the hospital." For some reason I didn't mention the fact we'd also encountered one another at the mental health facility where my mother resides.

"Seems intense." Placing his hand on my back, Zeke gently steered me away from the gaze of the nosy reporter. We walked together in silence for a minute, both consumed with our own thoughts.

Shaking my head to rid myself of thoughts of Jack, I said, "I need to go back to my office."

"Considering the circumstances, maybe you should take the afternoon off."

"No. I can find out where Ike Medd lives if I go into the office."

"The serial killer?" Zeke's voice cracked nervously as we turned the corner.

"Armani's kidnapper. You heard Brian. We can't wait for the police. It'll be too late."

"And what exactly is your plan, Maggie? You'll go to Medd's place and hunt him down."

"Exactly."

"I don't think—"

"This isn't open for debate, Zeke. It's what I'm doing with or without you. If it's going to be without you, let me know now so I can take my damn car."

Zeke stopped walking.

I turned to face him, hands on hips, ready for battle.

"I'll go with you," he said quietly. "But only after we talk to someone first."

"Who?"

He glanced up and down the street to make sure no one was within earshot. "The one you call Ms. Whitehat."

My stomach dropped at the mention of the woman who fronted a mysterious organization. She'd blackmailed me into working for her, just as she had Zeke, and quite frankly, she scared the hell out of me. "Why her?"

"Because she's the one who sent me here."

My hands dropped from my hips at his revelation. "She sent you to protect Armani?"

He shrugged and began to walk again. "Maybe. Maybe she sent me to protect you. It's not like she's in the habit of explaining herself."

A twinge of guilt settled in my solar plexus. Not long before, Zeke had asked me to help him escape the clutches of Whitehat, but I'd been so distracted figuring out who had wanted my murder-mentor Patrick Mulligan dead, that I hadn't even given his situation any thought.

"So I'll take you to your office." Zeke opened the passenger door of a red sports car for me. "But then we're seeing her."

"How?" I asked, climbing into my seat. I'd never been given a way to get in touch with the mysterious woman. I'd only ever been contacted by her.

He rounded the car and got behind the wheel. "Don't worry about it. Just tell me where we're going now."

I told him and he punched the address into his car's GPS system.

As he drove, an uncomfortable silence filled the enclosed space.

"Nice car," I said to alleviate the tension.

"Crime pays," he muttered.

I knew from experience that he was right. I also knew that there was a price to be paid for it that had nothing to do with money. I just hoped that Armani hadn't gotten mixed up with someone who was going to cost my friend her life.

I didn't make eye contact with any of my co-workers when I returned to Insuring the Future. Time was of the essence and I had better things to do than make idle small talk with people I didn't like even under the best of circumstances.

Keeping my gaze downward, I moved quickly to my desk. I sat down and searched for the claim Ike Medd had called in the week before. The call that Armani had taken. The call that had changed everything.

I quickly jotted down his home address and car information on a sticky note before turning off my computer. I was just about to stand up and leave when I smelled pepperoni.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wished as hard as I could that my boss, Harry, was in the vicinity to bother someone else, not me.

"Is she okay?" Harry asked.

Resigned to the fact he was there for me, I opened my eyes and clutched the piece of paper I held tighter. "What?"

"Is Armani okay?"

Harry rounded the desk to get a better look at me. He appeared to be genuinely concerned.

Remembering that I'd told him the reason I was leaving work in the middle of the day was to check on the well-being of one of his less-than-productive employees, I let out a shaky sigh.

"No." The tears I'd shed in the police car returned with a vengeance, spilling out of my eyes and down my cheeks like a dam had been released. "Her place is trashed and she's not there and the police were there..." I hiccupped hysterically.

Harry patted my arm awkwardly. "There, there." Snagging a box of tissues from the desk of one of my officemates, he held it out in front of him like it was a shield that could hold off my deadly waterworks.

I took a tissue, dabbed at my eyes, and blew my nose.

"I know you're worried about her," Harry soothed, "but we both know she's very good at getting herself into trouble and even better at getting out of it."

I nodded, finding his words oddly comforting.

"You're not going to be able to concentrate on work while worried about your friend. Why don't you go home?"

"Really?" I asked, like cutting out of work early hadn't been my plan all along.

He smiled. "Of course. Will you call me once she shows up?"

I nodded, thinking the best chance Armani had of showing up was me finding her.

"Good. Take these." He thrust the box of tissues into my hands, which almost caused me to drop the note with Medd's info. "You look like you need them."

Offering him a watery smile of thanks, I walked out of Insuring the Future.

Zeke sat in his sports car, windows open, watching my approach warily. "What happened?"

"Nothing." I climbed into my seat.

"Then why the tissues?"

"My boss thought I needed them."

"Nice boss," Zeke muttered, putting the car into drive.

"Not particularly, but he's been better ever since Armani set him up with the woman he married."

Zeke shook his head. "She's really pushing that psychic matchmaker thing?"

"Apparently."

We rode in silence for a few minutes until I finally asked, "Where are we going?"

"To meet Whitehat."

"Where?"

"Old warehouse. It's not far."

"What do you think she wants from us?" I asked nervously. I was way more comfortable taking orders from the local mob boss than I was the icy woman who seemed to know too much about me and those I care about.

"Dunno," Zeke replied. Taking his right hand off the steering wheel, he patted my knee reassuringly. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

I knew he said it to make me feel better, but I still quipped, "It's not like she'll give us any choice."

Zeke's chuckle was bitter. "Mind if I ask you something?"

I tensed, but said, "Go ahead."

"How'd you end up working for her?"

I shook my head, unwilling to reveal my murdering ways and how she used the information about my misdeeds to blackmail me. "It's complicated."

Zeke sighed. "It always is."

I was grateful that he didn't push harder for an answer. That was one of the things I liked about Zeke, his willingness to respect boundaries, even when he didn't necessarily agree with them.

He parked in the parking of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. "Here we are."

"Creepy," I declared.

"Private," he countered, getting out of the car.

I followed suit, even though I didn't see anyone else around. "Now what?"

"We go inside."

I looked dubiously at the closed-up warehouse. "You do remember that the police confiscated my tire iron, right?"

"Relax," Zeke said even though it was clear he was tense. "Whitehat's dangerous, but not in a physical way."

Remembering the body her people had once left in the trunk of my car, I was tempted to disagree with him, but in order to keep him safe from that side of my life, I kept my mouth shut. Grudgingly, I shuffled toward the warehouse door.

"Just follow my lead," Zeke urged.

We stepped inside the dim space and paused to let our eyes adjust to the lack of light.

A strange scent tickled my nose. "It smells funny."

"It was a pickle warehouse," Ms. Whitehat explained, emerging from the shadows. As always she was dressed in an impeccable business suit. Like usual, she looked out of place in her surroundings. "Thank you for coming."

It was the first time I remembered her thanking me for responding to one of her orders. "Do you know where Armani is?"

Zeke jabbed an elbow into my ribs, reminding me I was supposed to be following his lead.

Ms. Whitehat watched the silent communication with interest, pursing her lips. "I do not."

"Then why are we here?" I demanded angrily.

"Shhh!" Zeke urged.

I glared at him before turning my attention to the woman who was pulling our strings like we were her puppets to play with.

"I understand you're worried about your friend," Whitehat said slowly. "I have some information I need to convey to you."

"A phone is really helpful for that kind of thing," I groused.

Zeke, apparently deciding I was a lost cause, moved a step away from me.

"There is a police officer, a Detective Joy Gilbert." Whitehat held my gaze as she spoke.

I knew Joy. Whitehat had once asked me to protect her from making the same kind of mistake I'd made. I'd done what she asked, but my solution to the problem had only been temporary. It had been enough for Whitehat at the time, but apparently things had changed.

"I can't—" I began.

Whitehat held up a hand to silence me. "Please allow me to finish, Miss Lee."

I nodded tightly.

"Detective Gilber is missing. The last person she spoke to, according to her phone records, was a Miss Armani Vasquez."

A chill skittered down my spine. It couldn't be a coincidence that they were both missing at the same time.

"That's why I sent Zeke to the Vasquez residence. I'd hoped she'd be able to provide some information about what she'd talked to Gilbert about. You don't happen to know, do you, Miss Lee?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Maybe Armani was trying to set her up with someone."

"Set her up?" Whitehat's tone was as sharp as the tip of a blade.

"A date," I explained hurriedly. "She sees herself as a kind of psychic matchmaker."

Whitehat huffed her frustration.

"When did they talk?" I asked curiously. "My aunt told me Armani had called yesterday evening, but she didn't call again or return my calls this morning."

"Last night around eight."

"And when did Joy—Detective Gilbert disappear?"

"She missed a midnight meeting."

"So sometime between eight and twelve," I murmured.

"Exactly. I understand you're insisting on looking for your friend."

I shot Zeke an accusatory look.

He raised his hands in surrender. "It wasn't me."

"If you find her, you may find Joy. If you do, you must protect her," Whitehat ordered. "It's imperative nothing happens to her."

"Too late for that," I muttered.

"Thank you for your help, Zeke. If you'll go wait in your car, Miss Lee will join you in just a moment."

Zeke gave me a look, silently asking if I was okay being left alone with the icy woman. I nodded.

He hurried out of the warehouse.

Ms. Whitehat waited until he was gone and then walked closer to me, her high heels clacking against the cement floor, the noise echoing like staccato gunshots in the silence.

"You blame me for this?" I guessed aloud.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.

"Because I didn't do a good enough job saving her from Lucky O'Hara the first time," I elaborated.

"No. You did the job that was asked of you at that time. The reason I didn't call you with the information was I wanted to give you this." She opened the box and held it out to me so I could see the contents.

I stared at the black .45 sitting on a mound of white tissue paper. I couldn't help but smile at how odd the gun looked against the flimsy paper.

"You may need it," Whitehat said. "If the O'Haras are involved."

"We don't know that Joy and Armani were taken by the same person," I said. "Up until now, I'd been operating under the assumption that her serial killer boyfriend took Armani."

"Serial killer?"

"It's just a figure of speech."

Whitehat nodded as though she understood, but I wasn't sure I was making much sense. "Take the gun. You may need it and with Mulligan wrapped up in..." She trailed off, leaving me wondering what she'd been about to say. "Take it." She shook the box at me.

I removed the .45 gingerly, admiring its weight.

"But it would probably be best if Zeke didn't know you have it," Whitehat suggested. "He doesn't have the stomach for violence."

Nodding my understanding, I checked to make sure the safety was engaged before sticking it into the waistband of my pants.

"He knows how to get in touch with me if you find Joy."

"You don't trust me with that information?" I asked.

"Not yet," Whitehat said. "Find the detective alive and return her safe and sound and I might change my mind." Spinning on her heel, she marched away from me, heels striking the floor so hard I half-expected to see sparks fly from her shoes. "Be careful, Miss Lee," she urged before disappearing into the shadows.

"You okay?" Zeke asked the moment I emerged from the warehouse. Sitting cross-legged on the hood of his car, he looked a lot like the teenage boy I'd first fallen for.

"I'm good."

Without another word, he hopped off the car and got behind the steering wheel.

I appreciated that he didn't ask what Whitehat had wanted to talk to me alone about. I didn't know if that was a con man thing to not ask too many questions or if it was a Zeke thing, but it was definitely appealing.