Out of Character (26 page)

Paul remained upright. “Who’s the same man?”

“Like I said, it isn’t important.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Jillian sat up again. “This morning I looked through those photos on the kitchen counter. Are they the same ones I saw in Keystone?”

“The government sent another set with Ryan. Why?”

“A man in one newspaper photo resembled a man I saw at a gas station on the way to Keystone. I actually tripped and spilled coffee on his ski jacket.” A strand of hair fell over Jillian’s face. She shoved it behind her ear. “That reminded me of Kristen, and I forgot all about it. For some reason, my subconscious just realized it was the same man.”

Paul removed his arm from her shoulders. “You recognized one of the men in the photos?”

She yawned as she nodded. “I know you never showed me that photo, so I assume it isn’t important.”

“I didn’t show you every photo because several men are in more than one. I didn’t want you thinking you recognized someone because you’d already seen him in another photo. You saw at least one of everyone we were concerned about.”

“So the man I recognized was simply photographed with someone you’re concerned about. I told you it wasn’t important.” She yawned again and plopped back onto her pillow, pulled the sheet up to her chin, and closed her eyes.

Paul sat silently for a moment then got out of bed. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Jillian opened her eyes. “Why?”

“I’m compulsive. Even though I doubt it’s anything, I want to look at that photo.”

* * * *

Paul picked up the photos and handed them to Jillian. “Which photo are you talking about?”

Jillian sorted through the pile. “This one.” She gave it to him and set the rest on the counter.

Paul tapped the man on the far right. “You’ve seen better pictures of this guy.” He pointed to a different man. “Is he the one you recognized? He’s some cabinet undersecretary, might have been on television—”

“No, this one.” She indicated a handsome, dark-haired man in a tuxedo, his arm around one of the women.

“You saw him the day you met me? Are you sure?”

The tension in Paul’s voice got Jillian’s attention. His features were set. “I’m sure. Why is that a big deal?”

“Because he’s been dead for four years.”

She looked at the picture again. “His hair’s shorter and mostly gray now. But his face is the same, and I’ve got a good memory for faces. He must be the twin everyone supposedly has.”

“I don’t think so.” Paul took the photo and led her to the kitchen table. He pushed her onto a chair then sat beside her. “Remember I told you that a few years ago the government indicted the head of the syndicate I’m testifying against, but he was murdered before he could be tried? Vince Taurino?” He set the photo in front of her and pointed at the man. “This is him. Are you positive this is the man you saw at the gas station?”

The air whooshed out of Jillian’s lungs. It seemed impossible since he was supposed to be dead. But the longer she looked at the photo…

She met Paul’s eyes. “I swear it’s him.”

Paul’s intense gaze penetrated into her brain. “Okay. You said he was in a van at a gas station. Did you see who was with him?”

“I saw the man pumping gas.” Jillian closed her eyes and pictured him. “He had dark hair, almost black, and a beard and mustache. Bushier than what you had in Keystone. He was probably your height, but a lot heavier. Not fat, more like a body-builder.”

“Did you see his face?”

She reopened her eyes. “His sunglasses and facial hair hid most of it. I know I didn’t see him in any of the pictures, unless he’s shaved. Do you know him?”

“The man who tried to kill me in D.C. fits that description.” Paul rubbed his stubbled chin. “Jesus, if Taurino’s alive, it means he staged his death and managed to fool the government into thinking it was legit.”

“Why would he be in Colorado?”

“If his organization planned on taking me out there, he might have shown up. He had a reputation for wanting to be in on the kill, both to make sure his orders were carried out and because he enjoyed violence. He’d feel safe after four years since no one’s even hinted he’s still alive.” He smiled grimly. “Besides, the only person likely to recognize him in Colorado would be me. He assumed I’d be dead before I had a chance to report it.”

Jillian remembered something else. “I pointed at him.”

“What?”

“I told Kristen about spilling coffee on him and pointed him out to her. Maybe that made him think I recognized him, and he had someone following me.” Her heart skipped a beat. “Maybe I led him to you.”

“Don’t go there.” Paul got to his feet. “Let’s get dressed. I need to call Jack.”

* * * *

Paul led Jillian into the office, then to the desk he usually used. “Sit down.” He picked up a telephone receiver.

“That looks like a normal landline,” Jillian said.

“Except this one’s secure.” Paul punched Jack’s number.

Jack answered on the second ring, but then it was the middle of the day where he was. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’ve figured out why they’re after Jillian, and you won’t believe it.”

“Try me.”

“Vince Taurino’s alive.”

For a moment, Jack didn’t respond. “Impossible.”

Paul sat on the edge of the desk, holding the photo. “Did we see him buried?”

“I assume it was closed coffin, because I heard he was a bloody mess,” Jack said. “I guarantee we had someone check out the body, though. Trust me, he’s dead.”

“Except Jillian saw him alive and well at a gas station between Denver and Keystone, coincidentally the same morning she met me.” Paul set the photo on the desk. “She spilled coffee on him.”

“What makes you so sure it was Taurino?”

“Jillian identified him from one of those newspaper photos Martin sent.”

“I thought you said before that she didn’t recognize anyone. Sounds suspicious to me, like maybe—”

“I never showed her his picture because we thought Taurino was dead and had better pictures of Danny Moretti. She happened to look through all the photos.” Paul tapped his index finger on the desk. “She also described the driver of the van, who was pumping gas. My height with a muscular build, dark hair, beard, and mustache. Sound familiar?”

“A common description.”

Paul’s tapping accelerated. “Traveling with someone who resembles Taurino? Assume for a moment that Taurino’s alive. Jillian pointed at him to show her friend who she’d spilled coffee on. What if that made Taurino worry she recognized him, that she’d seen a national news story about his murder or maybe even been in Florida when it happened? To be safe, he has her checked out. His men identified her from her license plate, but it took a day to find her since she was staying at a friend’s townhouse. Then someone followed her to the ski slopes, spotted her with me, and somehow recognized me.”

“How would anyone recognize you?”

“Maybe one of my guards in Canada gave my description or even secretly snapped a photo. Jillian’s tail panicked, worrying that she was with me because she’d recognized Taurino or might say something that would enable me to figure out she’d seen him.”

“Which is why he tried to take both of you out on the slopes.”

“Works for me.” Paul finger stilled. He could relax; from Jack’s tone, he was considering this seriously enough that he’d check it out.

“If you believe in coincidence, with Dr. Rodgers seeing him then ending up with you.” Jack said. “It’s hard to believe Taurino could have staged his death.”

“With his brains, money, and connections?” Paul asked. “Of course he could have. And it’s the reason the syndicate didn’t fold like everyone expected when he supposedly died. He’s still secretly running it.”

“Possibly.”

“From everything I’ve heard about Taurino, he’d have wanted to be in on killing me, if only to make sure it was done right this time. That’s why he came to Colorado.”

Jack whistled between his teeth. “That’s one hell of a theory. Checking this out may take a while. To be safe, we’ll move you.”

Paul shook his head vehemently. “Not necessary. This is one of the safest places available, especially for me.”

“If there’s a leak—”

“We assumed someone got the information about D.C. and Keystone by hacking into encrypted computer files. There aren’t computer records to tap into about this place, and hardly anyone knows where it is.”

“I sure as hell don’t, since under Martin’s need-to-know policy, I don’t need to know,” Bitterness tinged Jack’s tone.

“It’s nothing personal. Just Martin’s paranoia.”

“Well, my paranoia kicks in when I don’t know everything potentially relevant,” Jack said. “I was a lot happier when you were in Newfoundland, and I knew your location so I could take care of any problems immediately.”

“I’m sure that won’t be an issue.”

“I hope to God you’re right, since I’ll never forgive myself if you aren’t. Worse yet, Molly will never forgive me,” Jack added in a lighter tone.

“I wouldn’t want to cause you any marital problems. But I’m safe here.”

“We’ll move Dr. Rodgers then.”

Paul suddenly got it. “You’re wrong, Jack.”

“Think about it. She knew you’d be skiing the night you were shot at. Sure, she was wounded, but not seriously. You have to admit that Taurino being alive is very unlikely, and we only have her word she saw him.”

“The day I met her I overheard her mention she’d spilled coffee on a man.” Her nervousness had been a major reason he’d approached her.

“Doesn’t mean it was Taurino. She might be claiming Taurino’s alive to distract us while she waits for a ride off the island. After she or her friends take you out.”

“You don’t know her.” Paul ground out the words between clenched teeth.

“Maybe the attacks on her were staged in hopes you’d do what you did, feel guilty enough to haul her in to assure her safety.”

Paul counted to ten twice before he answered. “I know you’re doing your job, not that you honestly believe Jillian’s in on it. But you’re not separating us unless you want me to develop a case of amnesia when we finally get to trial.”

“If you hadn’t made the same damn threat to get us to agree to your trip to Keystone, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” Jack’s voice had an edge.

“This time I promise I’ll carry out my threat.”

Jack was silent for a long moment. “Okay, I’ll tell Martin your theory about Taurino. I’ll also tell him that if he has any concerns about your living arrangements, he can deal with you himself. I don’t want him coming after me if you’re wrong about her.”

“I’m not.”

Jack let out an audible breath. “I know you think I’m being overly cautious, but I’m worried about you, damn it. You can’t trust anyone.”

“I know.”

“I hope so. Be careful, Paul. Very careful.”

Paul hung up the phone.

“Do you have any concerns that I’m in on it?” Jillian asked. “Which I assume is the plot to kill you.”

He met her blazing eyes. “None.”

“Because if you’d feel safer away from me, you certainly should move me someplace else.” She waved her hands. “You still haven’t locked up the knives. And now that you’ve taught me to shoot, I—”

Paul put his hand over her mouth. “I’ve never for an instant thought you had anything to do with this. Jack’s trying to guard against the one in a million chance he’s reading something wrong.” He removed his hand from her mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Jillian slumped down on the desk. Her lips twisted, and her voice shook. “After all I’ve been through, hearing that someone thinks I might be to blame for it is the last straw. But I guess you live in a completely different world than I do.”

He stood up and took her hand. It felt icy. “Let’s go back to bed.”

They walked to the house in silence. When they stepped into the kitchen, Jillian stopped. “In a way, Jack was right about my being to blame, even though it wasn’t intentional. I led them to you.”

Paul grabbed her shoulders. Her features were tight, her eyes as flat as cloudy ice. “You’ve told me your predicament isn’t my fault, even though I knew the facts and pursued you anyway. You’ll lose all credibility if you start feeling guilty about leading a paranoid, presumably dead crime boss to a government agent you thought was a dull accountant on a skiing vacation.”

Her lips curved in a wan smile. “I never thought you were dull.” Her smile faded. “If I hadn’t pointed, they never would have followed me, and Kristen would be alive.”

“You don’t know that,” Paul said. “Anyway, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. It’s just…” Tears filled her eyes, streamed down her cheeks. “Why did she have to die?”

Paul led Jillian to one of the kitchen chairs and pulled her onto his lap. Her grief released a heavy dark cloud of guilt that made it hard for him to breathe. Kristen’s death might not be Jillian’s fault, but it was definitely his.

After a long while, she lifted her head. Averting her gaze, she wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I hardly ever cry.” She tried to move off his lap.

He tightened his arms around her. “You must have needed it.”

“It’s so hard to think that if I hadn’t pointed, Kristen—”

“How many people in the world point every day? A million? How many end up dead because of it?” Paul grabbed her chin and turned her head so she had to look at him. Her watery red eyes and tear-streaked face triggered a stabbing pain deep inside him. “Stop blaming yourself. If you want to blame someone, blame me, damn it. If I hadn’t pursued you, they’d have checked you out then left you alone.”

“They might have killed me anyway just because I’d obviously noticed him.” Jillian’s voice was steadier, stronger. “They weren’t sure I hadn’t recognized him or wouldn’t later see a photo of him and remember seeing him alive. They couldn’t kill me because you were protecting me. By being with me, you might have saved my life.”

He’d never considered that. The suffocating guilt eased a little. “The good news is we finally know for sure who’s after you and why. We’re only dealing with one enemy and are already set to guard against him.” He paused. “It also means we don’t have to argue about you going to Denver anymore.”