The Wrong Side of Dead

are, Burke.”

Once inside her apartment, she booted up her computer to download and print the document. With the printer working, she made a few more calls to cab companies. On the third number, she got a hit.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” She grinned and grabbed a pen and paper near her phone. “Can you give me the location where you picked him up?”

Harper had been a responsible drinker and used a cab to cart his cute tush to Dirty Monty’s that night. Part of his evening had an explanation, but more importantly, Jess felt a step closer to knowing where Harper was living these days—and whom he might be protecting.

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and gazed at the address she’d jotted on a notepad.

She recognized it as being in downtown Chicago off Michigan Avenue. Posh real estate, but oddly enough, by now she’d come to expect that from Harper. She’d accepted his idiosyncrasies and the mysteries that surrounded the quirky kid, but that hadn’t always been the case.

She’d first met him months ago after she hired him as a summer intern, her ploy to score cheap labor for computer research and skip tracing. Other than her immediate connection to him on a personal level, nothing about the guy raised a red flag. Her first impression had been that Harper was cute, smart, and in need of a job—not a bad combination. He’d been the only applicant for the position she advertised in a free ad and had been the original owner of the blue whale, the beat-up old van she now drove after he’d loaned it to her. The kid wore an unending assortment of Jerry Springer wear with worn jeans and sneaks. Yet in no time, the mysteries had begun to surface, compelling her to rethink her initial opinion of Seth Harper.

Off the top, he looked like a normal guy, but she soon found him living in upscale digs as if he’d been born to it—forcing her to question how he could afford such accommodations. ID theft came to mind when she caught him with a bootlegged crimeware program designed to install keystroke loggers on someone’s computer to collect sensitive login and password data. Such information could later be utilized to perpetrate a financial crime.

At the time, he’d used the software at her request for a good cause in hacking the laptop of Lucas Baker, a suspected child pornographer. But Harper never explained how he’d gotten his hands on the program. And when she confronted him with her suspicions, he acted insulted and demanded she trust him, yet never once did he offer an explanation for why he had the illegal software. And she’d been too focused on stopping Baker to press Harper for answers.

Now she wished she had…for his sake.

Downtown Chicago

In perverse fashion, life had a nasty habit of carrying on for everyone else. But since Harper’s life had been tilted off base, hers had followed like the tip of a domino reacting to gravity.

Jess pondered her domino theory as she waited for a traffic light to change, catching a glimpse of a sightseeing tour boat cruising along the Chicago River under the Michigan Avenue Bridge—the heart of Chicago’s prime shopping. She made her turn and parked her van in an underground garage beneath the building she believed Harper called home, replaying the steps in the research that had brought her here.

She hoped that by doing so, she’d get a better handle on how to proceed once she got inside to talk to someone in security or the property manager. And given the prestige of the locale, she knew that it wouldn’t be easy to pick a lock or trick her way inside, her normal mode of operation these days.

American Taxi had confirmed a call had been placed from the concierge desk on the premises the evening prior to Harper’s arrest. A cab had been ordered to pick up a fare from the downtown address and dropped someone off at Dirty Monty’s on Chicago’s South Side with no return booked. Since Harper hadn’t made the arrangements himself, that sent a clear message to her that his residence was upscale. She’d have to sweet-talk someone into giving her information on a resident who probably maintained a very low profile.

An elevator delivered her to a street-level lobby, the only option, for security reasons. And once the doors had opened, she knew she’d been right about Harper being accustomed to money. The lobby decor was stunning— only the best—furnishings gilded in gold and chic fabrics, huge displays of fresh flowers, real paintings in oil, with overhead speakers subtly playing classical music in the background. The minute she stepped into the atrium, all eyes were on her—a doorman, a maid in uniform wiping down windows to the revolving front door, and an older man in a fancy suit retrieving a newspaper.

Jess cleared her throat, feeling completely out of place. She hadn’t given much thought to where she’d end up today after she’d dressed that morning. Her faded jeans and black Gold’s Gym tee were second nature to her. And the lightweight jacket she wore covered her Colt Python. But one thing Jess had learned long ago. No one made her feel second-rate unless she let it happen. She dragged fingers through her dark hair in a nearby mirror, pretending to care what the Chicago wind had done to her locks, but in actuality she was scanning the lobby for the layout and the location of the elevators used by the residents.

After a respectable time, she held her chin high and walked toward the Concierge desk, forcing a smile. A short pudgy man with red cheeks, a tan-and-gold uniform, and thinning dark hair greeted her.

“May I help you, miss?” He grinned and cocked his head, an almost robotic move. Way too perky to suit her.

“Actually, you can.” She tapped her fingernails on the counter between them, trying flirty on for size. “I’m pretty sure my younger brother lives here, but he doesn’t know I’ve come to the city. I’d love to surprise him by knocking on his door. Could you please tell me his suite number?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give out his room number. We protect the privacy of our guests. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh…sure. Then maybe someone could accompany me to his room? When he opens the door, you’ll see it’ll be okay with him, I promise.”

Jess knew hotel personnel might resist giving her the suite number outright, but all she needed was the room number to come back after hours. Seeing the inside of Harper’s suite might give her another lead about him and the person he might be protecting.

“And what’s your brother’s name?” the concierge asked, poised over a computer on his desk.

“Seth Harper. Like I said, he’s not expecting me.” She smiled and shrugged. “It’s a surprise.”

Yeah, a real surprise. Her plan had been to get confirmation that Harper lived here. And it looked as if the man behind the desk might just do that, but in an unexpected move, he narrowed his eyes, and said, “Excuse me. What did you say your name was?”

Harper’s name had triggered a defense mechanism in the man, and Jess had no idea why. For a second, she contemplated lying about her name, but chose not to.

“Jessica Beckett. A married name.” She mirrored the man’s concern on her face. “Is there something wrong?”

“Do you mind if I see some identification?” he said, but when she looked surprised, he added, “Like I said, we like to protect the privacy of our guests.”

“I’ve come to the right address, haven’t I? I haven’t been downtown since he moved in here.” She handed him her driver’s license. “Seth lives here, right?”

The man didn’t answer. Something in his eyes told her he knew Harper, yet there was more at play. He did imply Harper was a guest, but she couldn’t count on that as confirmation, not enough for breaking and entering.

“Excuse me.” He took her license and stepped through a door to a suite of offices beyond the lobby.

Damn it! She wasn’t sure why her visit had created such a stir. This could be a good thing or attention she didn’t need. While she waited, she checked out the security cameras behind her. A girl could never be too careful when breaking into a guy’s room.

After a long few minutes, the man returned.

“Would you please follow me? Mr. Humphries would like a word.”

“Yeah, and what word would that be?” Her attitude was beginning to show. She wasn’t going to get any cooperation, not today. “’Cause if he doesn’t have one in mind, I can make a suggestion or two.”

“Please…this way.”

She followed the uniformed man through the door by his desk and into the suite of offices she had spied earlier. Beyond a small break room, a reception area and a rather large office were at the end of the hallway, no doubt their final destination. A petite woman in a dark business suit with short auburn hair sat outside the office at a desk, presumably an administrative assistant to the head honcho. With a blank stare, the woman watched her