“Teresa worked for a pharmaceutical company. I’m betting that Craig Brandt did too. Maybe they worked together, even. Like lab partners or something.”
“Go on,” Jack prompted.
“Pharmaceutical companies rake in the big bucks. We’re talking billions. For the people in charge, that’s a nice thick pocket-lining.”
Jack nodded.
“So, what if Teresa found something out that threatened this cash flow somehow?”
“And Brandt?” Jack prompted.
“I don’t know… He obviously must know something too. Maybe she told him. Or maybe he’s the one who found it out and he told her. Or perhaps they discovered it together. Hell, maybe they even
Jack mulled this over for a minute. “And you think this has something to do with medicine, rather than administration?”
Annabelle gazed out the windshield for a few silent seconds. There was something about this case that pointed toward medicine. Drugs. She wasn’t sure what it was – couldn’t put her finger on it. But her instincts were screaming at her. She could feel it in her bones.
“Yes, I do.”
That was good enough for Jack. He glanced over at her once and then turned back to the road.
“So, where are we going, exactly?” She asked.
“A house in Forest Hills. I rent it out occasionally, but it’s empty at the moment.”
“You own property in New York?” Annabelle was surprised. She knew that real estate was his cover, but she’d had no idea how wide-spread it was.
“A few complexes and two homes.” He answered.
Annabelle blinked. How much money was that? And, where else did he own real estate?
“Do you own stuff in every state?”
“No.”
“California?”
“Yes. Two condominiums and a beach house.”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Oregon?”
“A light house museum and a few acres inland.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment and then asked, “Hawaii?”
He smiled. “I might have a little something there,” he told her as his gaze cut to her. “Why are you asking, luv?”
She blushed and shrugged. “No reason.”
They headed East through Manhattan and into Queens, the taxi-yellow on the streets thinning out, making way for cars of other make and color. As they progressed, the buildings became shorter, the sidewalks newer, and the foliage more plentiful. Eventually, they were driving down a prestigious neighborhood, lined with marble mansions and lawns that were already emerald green.
Jack’s was one of them. They drove through a wrought-iron gate that seemed to open for them automatically and then pulled up alongside the curb of the front walk. The house was isolated on the street, tall ever-green trees blocking them from the views of other homes or passers-by and lending the building a mansion-in-the-woods ambiance.
“You make entirely too much money for snuffing people, you know that?” Annabelle muttered, with a shake of her head.
Jack laughed out-right. But he didn’t reply. They parked and he opened his door. A second later, she opened hers and exited the car. Behind them, Dylan had already climbed out of the cabin of the vehicle. With a wary glance in every direction, he made his way over to Annabelle. Clara, Beatrice and Cassie followed.
“What is this place?” Dylan asked. His hands were in his pockets and his posture was such that he looked cold. Annabelle guessed it was just nervousness. Or maybe he actually was chilly. It was New York in May. And he wasn’t wearing a big jacket.
“Oh, it’s just a little place I like to get away to sometimes,” Annabelle replied haughtily. She tossed a long lock of her hair over her shoulder and assumed a vogue stance. “You know – it isn’t much, but it does keep the doldrums away.”
Dylan smiled at that. She was glad to see the kid smile. She winked at him and took his elbow in hers. “Come on. Let’s go check this dump out.”
“You’ll need this, luv,” Jack called out from behind them. She turned around and he held out a small silver key. She took it, her brow raised in mock surprise.
“What, no servants? No butler to open the door for us?”
“I’ve sent them away,” he replied, matching her aloofness with a haughty smile of his own.
Annabelle grinned and shook her head. Then, slipping back into Hollywood celebrity mode, she gave a snooty toss of her hair and strode up the walk and to the front door, Dylan in tow.
On the step, she let go of Dylan and slid the key into the lock. When the door suddenly swung inward, the key stayed in the lock and was jerked out of her hand. She had no time to react as an arm shot out of the darkness, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her violently around. She was roughly pulled against someone’s chest and something cold and hard was placed to her left temple.
Around her, people seemed to be shouting and moving all at once, a chaotic dance that she couldn’t keep track of. Her heart had leapt into her throat from first contact and stayed there, making it hard to breathe.
Through the fuzziness of her sudden terror, she could make out Jack, in a film of red, standing a few yards away, his hands out at his sides in a placating gesture.
“Take all of your weapons and place them on the ground in front of you, Thane.”
Jack nodded, once, and ever so slowly pulled his jacket away from his body so that Annabelle’s captor could see the gun in the shoulder holster. He then, just as slowly, pulled the gun out of the holster, using only his thumb and index finger on the grip. He bent and placed the gun on the ground in front of his feet, never breaking eye contact with the man behind Annabelle.
“All of them.”
Annabelle noticed that the man didn’t have a particularly deep voice. And it wasn’t exactly loud. But there was a magnetism to it.
Jack didn’t say anything. He simply proceeded to carefully and gradually rid himself of various weapons on his body, placing them on the ground beside the gun.
“Everyone else, get in the house and close the door behind you. Thane, you and Miss Drake are coming with me.” It was a voice of reason, actually. So perfectly collected and self-possessed. It was hard to argue with a voice like that.
It took a minute for the order to sink in, but after a brief, shocked pause, Cassie moved to Dylan, who had fallen back a few feet away from Annabelle. She took him gently by the arm and pulled him around Annabelle and her captor to head for the door. Beatrice and Clara followed after, Clara holding Beatrice’s arm just as Cassie was with Dylan.
“Close the door.” The man reminded them. Cassie nodded and shot Annabelle one last look before stepping inside. There was a lot of unvoiced sentiment packed into that look. Fear, regret, disbelief – and hope. Annabelle could recognize it because she refused
One could always hope. And, so, she did.
The others closed the door and the man holding Annabelle turned his attention to Jack.
“Turn around and get back in the car. Nice and slow. Thane, you’re driving. If you decide to find another weapon somewhere in the car, don’t forget where the first bullet will land.” Again, the orders came in tranquil composure and, again, Jack said nothing. He simply did as instructed, turning around slowly and heading back to the limousine. Annabelle watched him go, feeling utterly helpless and completely terrified. Then she was moving, being pushed forward by her captor.
Jack went around the car and opened the driver’s side door. It occurred to Annabelle that if they’d been in
