Material Witness (13 page)

She paused breathlessly.
But there
was a man with a gun under her bed.

Like radar, her gaze swept over the
big beautiful bed with pillows piled ridiculously high in the center.
No,
this big beautiful bed can't hurt me.

Jake's muted voice filtered in
through the closed bedroom door. He was still talking to someone on the phone.

“You're being ludicrous, Cassie,” she
muttered to herself, clutching her face with both hands now and laughing. “This
isn't
Hidden Evil
. This is life. Reality. This isn't a make pretend book
you've dreamed up. And you're not CJ Carmen.”

Still, Cassie’s mind kept racing to
dark thoughts and before she knew it she was dropping to her knees at the foot
of the bed.

“Okay, if there's anyone under here,
be prepared for battle,” she said, chuckling almost hysterically. “And if there
isn’t, then I guess I better prepare myself for some serious psychoanalysis,
because I’m losing my mind.”

Of course, there wasn't going to be
anyone hiding under her bed. The house had been checked. But she knew that the
only way she’d be able to put her head down on one of these gloriously pretty
pillows and sleep tonight was if she checked for herself.

Her hand trembled as she reached for
the white dust ruffle. Pulling the eyelet fabric up, she had to squint her eyes
to focus. The small desk lamp was on, but it was dimly lit in the corner of the
room, making it hard to see under the bed. Blinking, she fought to focus her
eyes. Then again. They burned as she focused them so she rubbed them with two
fingers.

Cassie didn't really believe in the
Bogey Monster. Her sensibility told her she certainly wouldn't find one under
her bed. Nor would she find a masked man wielding a gun or a knife or any other
weapon. Her creative mind was just working overtime, as it always did, and this
time it was getting the better of her. She was just being silly.

Still, Cassie had to look for
herself.

Through the dark shadows, something
came into view.

You're being ridiculous.

But Cassie knew she really wasn't.
She rubbed her eyes again. Even as her mind registered relief that there was no
masked intruder hiding under her bed, waiting to kill her, what she did
register most definitely would.

# # #

Chapter Seven

Jake scrubbed his hand across his
rough face with one hand. He hadn't bothered to shave that morning and now,
with an extra day’s beard growth, his jaw itched like hell. But he'd be damned
if he was going to take the time to rid himself of his whiskers before he climbed
into bed. He'd just finished calling the guard’s station and decided to check
in with his partner before turning in.

“She insisted I look in the closet,
Kev,” Jake said, shaking his head as he eased himself deep into the wing chair
by the telephone. “She’s nuts. But do you know what’s more nuts?”

Kevin laughed. “You did it, right?”

“Yeah. I'm surprised she didn't
insist I look under her bed.”

“Man, you got it bad,” his partner
said, a hint of knowing in his voice.

“It's not like that,” Jake lied. It was
exactly like that, but he wasn't about to admit it to Kevin. “I got roped into
this.”

“You looked like hell when I saw you
and that was this morning. You must look a whole lot worse now. Maybe you
frightened the poor woman.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Just keeping things real.”

He leaned over to turn the fancy lamp
sitting on the end table off, but before he did, something caught Jake's
attention and he missed the next thing Kevin had asked.

“What's that?”

“You're mumbling again. Sure sign of
dementia.”

Jake normally would have laughed but
he was distracted by what had caught his eye.

Kevin continued. “You sure you're
okay with all this?”

“Ah, yeah.”

It was hidden well in the seam of the
lampshade. Jake pulled at the threads that had been stitched until the device
fell into his palm. It was the size of a flat pea. He probably wouldn't have
noticed it at all except that the lampshade was slightly askew, most probably
tilted when Cassie bumped into him earlier. The naked light bulb made it
glaringly obvious at this particular angle.

Terrific
. Charley had appeased Cassie by
telling her she wouldn't be watched like an insect under a microscope. She'd
kept her word. But only because the agents on duty fully intended to bug the
house. Jake was sure all the rooms were filled with these tiny devices. He'd
have to figure out a way to warn Cassie about it without making her feel
self-conscious.

“It's been a hell of a day, Kevin.
Did you manage to get any info on those names?”

“A bit more than I bargained for.
Maureen Phillips, Cassie's editor, came up clean. Not even so much as a parking
violation with the DMV. But the other name—”

“Adam Coel?”

“Yeah, him. Seems he's had a little
bad luck streak at the local casino. In hock up to his eyeballs and in
desperate need of some major cash.”

Jake let out a quick sigh. “So he's a
possibility.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Kevin said,
still sounding unconvinced. “Legitimate newspapers don't pay for big stories.
And it doesn't seem likely someone requiring the kind of cash Coel needs would
give it up for free. Seems more likely he'd have gone to the tabloids and sold
his story to the highest bidder.”

“Keep checking for me, will ya?”

“Sure. But there's more.”

When Kevin hesitated, Jake braced
himself.

“I dug up some information on Angel
Fagnelio that I thought you might find a little interesting.”

“Such as?”

“Debra Cantelli was Angel's sister.”

The floor felt like it fell out from
beneath Jake. “That can't be.”

“I didn't think so either, so I
double checked.”

So had he, Jake thought dismally. At
the beginning of his investigation he’d done a full sweep of Angel Fagnelio’s
file. But if this was true, it was obvious he hadn't done his homework right.

“It's true, Jake. Both had different
fathers, different last names. She lived with her father most of the time.
Probably why we were never able to make a connection. Debra was older by ten
years and only went to live with their mother after she was of age. She
practically raised Angel when his mom hit the bottle too hard, which was pretty
much all the time.”

He wiped his hand over his face and
tried to clear his mind, tried to make some sense out of the last few months
and how it connected to his past.

“Angel knew all along I was
undercover,” Jake said grimly.

“That would be my guess. Puts a new
spin on who he was actually targeting last night at Rory’s.”

And how close Jake had come to being
sent away in a body bag.
If it hadn't been for Cassie's quick action, he was sure that's the way
it would have gone down.

“All things considered, I’d say you
could use a good night’s sleep, Jake,” Kevin said.

“Yeah, right.”

He didn’t want to rest, Jake thought.
He wanted Angel Fagnelio.

“Do you have him yet?”

“Not yet, but you’ll be the first to
know when we do. You’re gonna call in periodically? Let me know how you're
doing? Gloat about the good food and fill me in on any change in the sleeping
arrangements?”

That hint of amusement was back in
Kevin's voice. It grated on Jake's tired nerves more than fingernails against a
chalkboard.

“There's not going to be any change,”
he shot back.

“Same ol' Jake. I’ll bet you were an
altar boy.”

Jake ignored the disappointment in
Kevin's voice. “Three years.”

Kevin laughed. “Oh, man. I can’t
believe you get a cushy gig out in the middle of the mountains while I get to work
my ass off here. You know, Russo's been riding my case since this morning. He’s
still at his desk.”

“Doesn't that guy ever go home?”

“No.” There was a small silence
between them. They'd both been there when the call came in about the death of
Paul Russo, Captain Russo’s only son. The old man had never been the same since
and would probably work himself into the grave before he'd face an empty house.

“Don't work yourself too hard. At
least not on the job,” Kevin finally said, his rich laughter floating through
the telephone line before the connection was cut.

Jake stared at the tiny bug in his
hand until the dial tone blared in his ear. Only then did he place the phone
back in the cradle.

A few long strides down the hall, and
Jake was in front of Cassie's bedroom door. He lifted his hand to the doorknob,
catching himself before walking in. She might be getting dressed. Curling his
fingers into a ball, he rapped his knuckles lightly against the door three
times instead.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Silence.

Staring at the white paneled door, he
hesitated before turning the knob. He'd only left Cassie a moment ago. She
couldn't possibly be asleep yet. But then again, as tired as she was…

The lamp on the dresser was still
glowing when he crept into her room. A quick glance to the bathroom showed the
door was open and the light was off.

“Cassie?”

She sprang upright from the floor at
the foot of the bed. Sheer black fright clouded her delicate features, and it
took but a second to figure out what she was doing.

“Geez, it wasn't good enough to check
the closets?”

She shook her head vehemently, waving
her hands back and forth. It took no more than two seconds to realize her
fright wasn’t about her overactive imagination.

“What’s that I smell?” he asked.

Slowly she shook her head as if she
were paralyzed and fighting to move. Her breathing was shallow and quick.

“I think it’s gas,” she said quickly.
“It’s coming from the heating unit under the bed. I thought maybe I was
imagining it and hyperventilating, but if you smell it too then—”

He took another whiff and then
dropped to the floor, checking under the bed to inspect it himself. As soon as
his face got close to the bed ruffle, the smell was stronger.

“What the… We need to move quickly.”

“What?”

“Get out of the house!”

In two quick movements, he was
pulling Cassie up from the floor and dragged her across the room to the door.
Cassie stumbled once as he dragged her around the bed, knocking into the
dresser. The lamp pitched and Jake quickly grabbed it before it fell to the
floor.

 “Wait. I need my laptop,” Cassie
cried.

“We’ll get it later.”

Jake dragged Cassie through the
house. The air was definitely cleaner in the living room, but it was filling up
quickly.

When Jake reached the living room
door, he turned the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge.

Cassie gasped. “It’s locked?”

Jake didn’t need to confirm it. There
was no time. He raced to the kitchen door and found that it wouldn’t budge
either.

“We’re locked in?” Cassie said on a
sob.

“Breaking the bolt on the door might
cause a spark.”

There was no time to speak, or
breathe. He had to think and then act. They had to move
faster
.

Ten seconds went by.

Think, think, think
. Surveillance cameras were littered
along the driveway and the front of the house. There was no telling how many
other cameras were positioned at the other corners of the safe house. It
wouldn't take whoever did this long to figure out he and Cassie had escaped.

If they escaped.

“Jake the smell is getting stronger!”

“Pull up your shirt and cover your face.”
She did as she was told. “That’s right. Don’t breath too heavy or you’ll take
in too much.

They needed to act fast.
Jake looked into Cassie's terrified
eyes and gave her a silent plea to stay quiet. The two of them sprinted through
the kitchen to an office at the far end of the hall in the back of the house.

“Don’t turn on the light. Don’t touch
any of the light switches. Even the smallest spark could blow the house up.”

Jake felt his way along the top of
the window and unlocked it slowly. The window opened with a rush of much needed
fresh air. He pushed the screen out with one quick movement.

“Climb out and I’ll ease you down to
the ground. Then I’ll jump out,” he said.

Jake filled his lungs with fresh air
as he lowered Cassie to the ground.

“Hurry, Jake!” Cassie said.