Allison Brennan - Playing Dead

“The FBI? Why them?”

“I believe that if I go into state custody my days are numbered. Someone wants me dead. I’m hoping that the FBI will listen to what I know.”

“You can’t trust them. You can’t trust anyone, Dad. Except me. I’m working on this. I already know so much more than you did yesterday morning. Stay away. I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Nelia came in with a tray of teacups. She put it down and sat on the armrest of the chair Tom was sitting in. He absently took her hand. The simple sign of affection wasn’t lost on Claire.

“Frank Lowe died in a fire the night after Mom was killed,” Claire said.

“That’s not possible. Oliver said he’d tracked down Frank Lowe and that he had the key to what happened.”

“Lowe died in a fire, but Oliver told Bill that he thought he was alive. I don’t see how-it’s actually hard to fake your own death. Disappear? Much easier.”

“Oliver must have had a reason to think Lowe wasn’t dead.”

She frowned. “Maybe. I do know that Lowe’s boss at the time now owns a bar in Isleton. Oliver was returning from Isleton when he went into the river.”

“Stop. Stop looking into this right now,” her dad said.

“I’m going to find out who killed Mom and Chase Taverton.”

“Dammit, Claire!” He took a deep breath and turned to Nelia.

“Claire,” Nelia said, “if anything happened to you, Tom wouldn’t be able to live with it. You have to step back.”

Claire shook her head and looked at the ceiling. “You might think you know me, but you don’t.” She looked from Nelia to her father. “I’m not the naive fourteen-year-old who was in shock during your trial. I’m a trained private investigator. Oliver Maddox found Chase Taverton’s personal day planner. He had a copy of it. That disappeared, and so did the original. Taverton’s sister gave it to a cop who claimed he was from the Sacramento County Superior Court.

“A friend of mine at the morgue told me Oliver swallowed a flash drive. The FBI has it. Something important was on there. Something that might prove you’re innocent. And there are other things. Like your transcripts are missing from the county archives. There are no coroner’s reports on the murders.”

Her dad leaned forward, a stern look on his face. “Don’t you see? Someone powerful is calling the shots.”

“What powerful person would want Chase Taverton dead? To the extent that he would frame an innocent man, destroy government records, and kill a law student?”

“Someone with a lot to hide, and even more to protect,” Nelia said softly.

Tom and Claire turned to her.

Nelia said, “You two are so much alike. If the situation weren’t so dire, I would laugh. Stubborn. Determined. Smart. Temperamental. But we know that Tom is innocent. That he was framed. That someone else killed two people, but we don’t know the motive.”

“It was about Taverton,” Claire said.

Nelia nodded. “Prosecutors make enemies, but usually they leave a paper trail. Something to follow that shows what they were working on.”

“Wouldn’t they be working only after an arrest?” Claire asked. “I mean, isn’t their job to prosecute those arrested for a crime?”

“Usually,” Nelia said, “but sometimes they are involved in sting operations. Or they arraign a petty criminal who has information to take down a bigger fish.”

“Frank Lowe,” Claire said. “He was a petty thief. He was arrested two weeks before he died in a fire. It’s too big a coincidence that Lowe died about the same time Taverton did. What happens after someone is arraigned?” she asked Nelia, who seemed to know more about legal issues than she did.

“He’s a thief? So he was caught robbing someone. He was arrested, put in jail, and then arraigned within seventy-two hours-that’s usually the case. Could have been out on bail pending trial. An investigation would continue. That’s when the district attorney would go through the case, making sure he had everything he needed for a conviction. There could be a plea agreement between the D.A.’s office and the defense. Often for a lesser charge or lighter prison term.”

“Are you a prosecutor?” Claire asked, suspicious.

Nelia shook her head. “I used to be a corporate attorney. My ex-husband is a D.A.”

Claire glanced at her dad, but he wasn’t concerned. He looked at Nelia as if she were a goddess.

Claire pulled her gaze away. “What if Tip Barney, Lowe’s old boss, knew what Lowe and Taverton knew?”

“Then why is he still alive?” Nelia asked. “If Barney had information that would have hurt someone, he would have been killed. That follows this pattern.”

“He could be part of it, Claire,” her father warned. “I don’t want you going down there. Leave it to the FBI.”

She jumped up. “They’re not going to even try and prove your innocence. All they care about is putting you back in prison!”

When neither of them said anything, Claire knew she was right-and so did they.

“I have to do this.”

“It’s okay, Claire. I can die now.”

“No! Dammit, what’s with this fatalistic attitude? You escaped during the earthquake, why? To go back and die?”

“I escaped so that I could have a chance to convince you I didn’t kill your mom.”

“No. No! You escaped to prove you’re innocent. Fifteen years was stolen from us. Half my life I hated you. Hated myself. It was a lie. We can’t get the time back, but we can find out who took it away from us.”

“I’m turning myself in.”

“Please don’t-”

Nelia said, “Claire, he has to. He can’t live the rest of his life running. And-” She glanced at Tom, worry crossing her face.

“What?” She looked from Nelia to her dad, fear making her heart beat faster.

“There’s a bullet in me. Nelia patched me up, but she couldn’t remove the bullet. It’s been bothering me the last few weeks. We think it’s shifted.”

“Bothering.” Nelia shook her head. “Your dad has been in severe pain. His legs are weak, and he’s experienced numbness during the last few days. He needs medical attention.”

Claire stared at them in disbelief. “They’re not going to do anything to save you when they plan to execute you in six weeks.”

“I’ll take my chances. If I keep running I doubt I have six days, let alone six weeks.”

This was not happening. Claire closed her eyes, tried to change it, but when she opened them Nelia and her father stared at her.

“I’m going to do everything I can, Claire, to make surgery a term of his voluntary surrender,” Nelia said with passion. “Your father saved lives these last four months. He was responsible for apprehending nearly every one of the escaped fugitives. They owe him.”

“They won’t see it like that.”

“I’ll convince them.”

Claire desperately wanted to believe Nelia. But she also feared this would be the last time she saw her dad. She believed him, believed in him, and now he tells her he’s dying?

“Dad.”

He held her tight and she clung to him like a little girl awakened by a nightmare. Her daddy. Her protector.

Now it was up to her to save him.

The assassin watched the GPS tracking program on his computer. Claire was still at home. Good. He glanced at the clock. Nine thirty. It was getting late and he still had many chores to complete.

First things first. He learned long ago that he couldn’t keep the girls alive indefinitely. The first time, he’d had a warped idea that he could convince the young runaway to stay with him, to be his forever, and she had played along. Played with him. But the first opportunity she had, she ran.