Lisa Jackson - Born To Die

When she finished, Clarissa, a pissy expression twisting her features, said, “So what now? You’ve come. You’ve met us. Introduced yourself to Dad. Messed up our mother’s life immeasurably, especially concerning that she’d never really accepted Robert as our half brother.”

Robert glowered a bit but didn’t argue.

Clarissa went on, “I suppose you’re going to want to hire on with the company, here, along with the rest of us. Or are you planning to come over for Christmas dinner? That might be interesting in an absurd way.”

“More than a little,” Cameron added.

Kacey stood. “All I wanted was validation, I guess. To find out a little more about myself and let the rest of you know what’s going on, that people related to Gerald Johnson are dying.”

“Still just a theory,” Robert reminded.

She turned her attention to him, the one most like her, not really part of the family. “I really don’t have anything else to say. Contrary to what you think,” she added, looking directly at Clarissa, “I do have a life. My own life and it’s pretty good. I’d just like to keep it that way.”

She was about to walk out when a knock sounded on the door the moment before it was pushed open. A tall man, probably six-two or three, poked his head inside. Handsome, with bladed features and eyes a shocking blue, he looked around the room, his gaze landing on Clarissa.

“I thought we were meeting with the builder this afternoon,” he said, obviously displeased.

“Family emergency.” Clarissa’s lips were tight, but she gathered her things together, zipping her laptop’s case.

Gerald added, “It’ll just be a minute more, Lance.”

Lance? As in the husband Clarissa would “eviscerate” if he was ever caught cheating? That would be quite a feat, Kacey thought, as this man looked tough as nails. Maybe tougher. Like someone who bow hunted and rock climbed and participated in Ironman competitions just for fun. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his large frame and not the hint of a smile in his even features.

Kacey headed to the boardroom closet, where she’d hung her coat. “I’m done,” she said to no one in particular as she slipped her arms through her sleeves. “You can keep those photos,” she said. Lance, eyeing her speculatively, gave her a wide berth as she walked through the door and into the maze of hallways connecting the rooms and buildings of Gerald Johnson’s empire.

It was really just a company, after all, she thought, but the way her siblings acted about it, the corporation could just as well have been called GJ’s Holy Roman Empire rather than G. Johnson, Inc.

She felt slightly tired. Nothing really had been accomplished today, except that now Gerald and his children were more than two-dimensional pictures on the Internet to her; they were real, and she felt as if she understood them a little more, which wasn’t all good.

But at least they now knew of her and of her mission. She’d warned them, though she wasn’t certain any of them were targets. Briefly, she wondered if one of them could be the person who had bugged her house, or possibly even the killer, but it seemed unlikely. Even if the man central to the mystery were Gerald Johnson.

Clarissa was right about one thing; she’d certainly stirred up a hornet’s nest. No telling what would come of it, but she doubted there would be any family ties established.

“What’d you expect?” she asked herself as she walked along the pathway to her car. Her boots sunk into an inch and a half of new snow. Had she really thought she’d be welcomed with open arms? Or that she’d be able to pick out which of Gerald’s biological children was crazy enough to commit murder?

And why would that be?

Or were the individuals she’d left arguing in the conference room targets themselves?

Blaming her sour stomach on a severe case of nerves, she climbed into her SUV, put the Edge into gear, and backed out of her parking space. A few minutes later she called Detective Alvarez and left a message that she was on her way home. Then she phoned Trace and told him the same thing. Then she asked about Eli. Trace said he was coughing, still a little listless, but definitely improving. The neighbor had come over and was “keeping the boy company” while Trace did the chores. When Kacey was assured that all was as well as it could be with Eli, she launched into the tale of where she’d been and whom she’d seen.

When she was finished, Trace said, “I wish you’d told me where you were going. Sounds like a nest of snakes.”

“Vipers,” she corrected, and he chuckled, the sound warming her from the inside out. “I just needed to meet him by myself.” After spending part of the afternoon under the icy scrutiny of her half siblings, it was a relief to be talking to a man who seemed to trust her, care for her.

“Do you want me there tonight?”

“No, I’ll let Detective Alvarez and the rest of them take care of it.”

“I can be there. If Tilly will stay with Eli, I’ll meet you at your house. If you want me to.”

From the background an older woman’s voice yelled, “You don’t have to twist my arm, Trace. It’s time I showed this young’un a thing or two about checkers!”

“I want you to,” Kacey said.

“See you soon,” he said into the phone.

“Okay.” Again her silly heart soared, and again Kacey reminded herself to keep her feet on the ground, her head out of the clouds. Two weeks ago she hadn’t even met Trace O’Halleran or his adorable son.

Two weeks ago her life had been normal. In a rut. Then women who looked like her started dying.

Now, at least, with Trace on her side, she wasn’t fighting this battle alone.

As she turned off of the main highway toward Grizzly Falls, she glanced in her rearview mirror, glad to see no one appeared to be following her through these snowy hills. Turning on the radio, she was relieved to be leaving the sick tangle that was her newfound family far behind.

Calm down.

Pretend nothing’s wrong.

So the bitch went to Gerald? So what?

It was inevitable. As are the police.

And things are only going to get worse when they find the other one….

Glancing down at the screen of his GPS tracking system, he realized that Acacia had driven home from Gerald’s company in Missoula, which was exactly what he’d expected. And yet he couldn’t help but worry, his hands sweating in gloves, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he thought of everything that could go wrong.

He’d been so diligent….

He was on the move again. There was just so much to do, and time was his enemy.

He’d switched license plates on the truck, just in case, putting on the set of stolen Idaho plates.

His windshield wipers wiped off the snow as he thought about yesterday and how he’d surprised another one. She had been cross-country skiing on a trail that was one of her usual haunts. He’d had to wait several days in the empty parking lot, hoping she would appear.

Finally, yesterday, as he’d pretended to be checking his own equipment, the nose of her Honda had appeared. After she’d parked, she’d geared up and he’d offered a hand in greeting as she’d snapped on her skis and taken off.

He’d waited until she was around the bend and through a copse of pine before he’d taken off after her, his strides strong and swift. She was athletic, and he was surprised how long it had taken to catch up to her, but he’d kept her red jacket in his line of vision until she’d started up the incline that ran along the creek.

He’d accelerated then, pushing himself, feeling the cold wind permeate his ski mask as it rattled the trees.