The Intended Victim Page 15

  She waited until he’d pulled away from the curb and headed out of the shabby neighborhood before she at last asked the question that was trembling on her lips. “The car that nearly hit Roo . . .” She twisted her fingers in her lap. “It sounded like my dad’s.”

  Ash forced himself to give a casual shrug. She had enough to worry about without adding ghosts to her fears. He intended to have the answer of whether the car had any connection to her father by the end of tomorrow.

  “Gage wasn’t the only one with a Mustang in Chicago,” he said.

  “No, but as Roo said, the yellow with flames on the side can’t be that common,” she insisted. “I remember Dad telling me that he had his custom painted.”

  “I’m sure it’s a coincidence,” he said, sending her a quick smile.

  Remi settled back in her seat, her expression troubled. She wasn’t satisfied, but she accepted that Ash didn’t have the answer she wanted. At least not yet.

  “Did you believe Roo?” she instead asked.

  Ash snorted, turning onto the main thoroughfare, heading toward the west side of Chicago. “Not as far as I can throw him,” he said.

  He could feel her gaze lingering on his profile. “Do you think he was at the park?”

  Ash grimaced. “Yeah, I think he was there. I’m just not sure everything he told us was the truth.”

  “Why would he lie?”

  That was easy enough to figure out. Ash had interviewed hundreds of witnesses and all of them had a reason to tell him something that wasn’t the full truth.

  “Habit. Covering for a friend. Covering for himself,” he said. “A desire to ‘stick it to the man.’”

  She heaved a frustrated sigh, her gaze drifting toward the windshield. Her brows tugged together as she leaned forward, belatedly realizing they weren’t headed toward her house.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I thought we’d have an early dinner at Tiramisu,” he told her.

  When they’d first started dating, the small Italian restaurant had been their favorite place to eat. It’d been quiet and romantic, and the food was the best in the city. He told himself that he wanted to allow her to relax and enjoy a good meal. It had nothing to do with trying to remind her of the days when they were happy together.

  His lips twisted as he returned his concentration to the traffic darting around him.

  “Shouldn’t we go tell Jax what we found out?” she asked with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  Was she as eager as he was to forget the world for an hour or two?

  Ash tightened his hands on the steering wheel and silently reminded himself not to press for more than Remi was ready to offer. If he spooked her, she’d once again turn away from him. He couldn’t risk that.

  “I’m hoping my brother finally went home to get some rest,” he told her. “I’ll go see him in the morning. Right now, we have nothing to do but enjoy a few hours of peace.”

  She released a slow breath. “Okay.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rachel tried to suppress her burst of frustration. What had she been expecting? A penthouse suite at the Four Seasons? The director had been very clear that this role was going to be demanding. Not only by insisting on the alterations to her face but by spending a few weeks rehearsing her role. She had to practice how to style her hair and put on her makeup. She had to wear different clothes. And most importantly, she had to learn how to walk and talk so she could be believable as Remi Walsh.

  She’d already started by studying the newspaper clippings while she was at the clinic. First, she concentrated on the ones of Remi Walsh when she was a young socialite. The papers had loved to photograph her. She was lovely, rich, and engaged to a handsome detective. Plus, she was often attending charity events that encouraged reporters to attend.

  Then she studied the news after the poor woman had been attacked by the Butcher. She’d been hounded by the press as she’d left the hospital and then when she’d gone to the police station to offer her official statement.

  Remi had changed from a vivacious woman with a quick smile to a pale imitation who had ended her engagement and faded into the shadows. Rachel understood that it was imperative she capture that change. Something she found harder than she’d expected. What did it feel like to know your father sacrificed his life to save you? Rachel didn’t have a clue. Her own father would have bailed at the first hint of danger, leaving her to deal with the crazed killer. He was all about self-preservation.

  With a sigh, she glanced around the room that was supposedly an exact replica of Remi’s bedroom the night she was attacked by the Butcher. It was elegant rather than pretty, with an ivory satin and gold décor. Just the sort of princess bedroom Rachel always dreamed of having. But there was no window, or it had been boarded over behind the heavy curtains that had been pulled tightly together, giving the sensation she’d traded one prison for another.

  Unease crawled through her, feeling as if she had bugs scurrying across her skin. She wished she’d stop thinking about prisons. This was a new beginning for her. A way to hit the Restart button on her life. She wasn’t going to screw it up because of her sudden bout of anxiety. It was just nerves trying to get the best of her.

  She’d escaped from her ugly fate. From now on, there was nothing but opportunity in her future. Right?

  “Why have you stopped?”

  The words from the director crackled through the speaker in the ceiling, reminding Rachel that she was being constantly watched.

  Dammit.

  She squared her shoulders and concentrated as she walked across the room and perched on the edge of the bed.

  There was an edge in the director’s voice that warned Rachel she wasn’t performing up to the level that was expected of her.

  Time to up her game.

  * * *

  Ash rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn, ready to join Remi in her morning run. Once they returned, however, he waited for her to hit the shower before he was grabbing his car keys and heading out of the house. He wasn’t trying to be sneaky. Okay, maybe a little sneaky. But he wanted to have the opportunity to check out Gage’s Mustang without Remi.

  Calling Jax to make sure that he would send a patrol car to keep a watch on the house, Ash cut through the side streets to reach the elegant mansion north of town. Parking around the corner, he used a narrow opening in the hedges to enter the grounds. Remi had shown him the nearly hidden pathway after they started dating. Her mother had never fully approved of Ash. He didn’t know if it was because he was a cop or because his family didn’t own a big house and a membership at the country club. Whatever the case, it was easier to avoid her disapproving glare when he wanted to spend a few minutes with Remi before heading to work, or to his apartment at the end of his shift.

  Now he strolled along the edge of the neatly trimmed bushes, circling the pool house to head toward the detached brick garage that was three times the size of most homes. According to local gossip, Liza Harding-Walsh’s grandfather had used the building as a speakeasy during Prohibition, while her father had run an illegal gambling parlor there in the sixties and seventies. Ash was fairly certain, however, that Gage had never used the building for anything but a place to park his cars.

  Cutting through the empty garden, Ash did his best not to be seen from the mansion without actually getting on his hands and knees to creep over the flower beds that were covered in straw. If he got caught, he wanted to be able to claim he was there for a friendly visit, not to illegally search for evidence.

  The sky was leaden overhead with the looming threat of snow. Thankfully, the wind had turned from turbo to merely breezy. The temperature was still frigid enough to turn his breath into puffs of icy mist, but he could feel his nose. A minor miracle during a Chicago winter.

  Hurrying toward the back door of the garage, Ash was brought to an abrupt halt by the sound of a male voice calling out.

  “Stop! What are you doing?”

  Muttering a
curse beneath his breath, Ash forced himself to turn and meet the accusing glare of Albert Martin.

  “Easy, Albert,” he said, lifting his hands. “It’s me.”

  The longtime gardener, chauffeur, and all-around handyman widened his hazel eyes in surprise.

  He was a short man with a solid frame and dark hair that was balding in a pattern that looked like someone had shaved a stripe down the center of his head. His skin was darker than Ash’s and his features a combination of his multiracial background.

  Albert had worked at the estate for years, and Ash knew he was one of Gage’s most trusted employees.

  “Detective Marcel?”

  Ash lowered his hands, smiling in what he hoped was a casual manner. “It’s just Ash now.”

  “That’s right. You became a teacher, right?” the older man asked.

  “Not according to some of my students,” Ash assured him in dry tones. “How are you?”

  Albert patted his stomach, which was still flat beneath his heavy coveralls. During his time of dating Remi, Ash had watched the older man bustle around the estate. He worked as hard as three men put together.

  “Getting old.”

  Ash snorted. “You’ll outlive us all, Albert,” he said with absolute confidence. “What about your family? Are they well?”

  Albert nodded. “My wife is still working at the hospital and the boys have started their own landscaping business.”

  Ash quickly dredged through his memories to recall that Albert was married to a nurse and that they had two sons who must be in their midtwenties.

  “Good for them. You must be proud.”

  “Yes, sir.” A smile of pure satisfaction curled Albert’s lips before he was casting a quick glance toward the nearby house. No doubt he was reminding himself that he was on duty. He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to Ash. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

  Ash rapidly searched his mind for a response that wouldn’t get him run off the property. Then, with a flash of inspiration, he realized he had the perfect excuse standing right in front of him. “I actually wanted to chat with you,” he told his companion, waving his hand toward the nearby garage. “Can we get out of the cold?”

  Albert didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

  Pulling out a large ring with dozens of keys, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Ash quickly followed behind him, wanting to get a good look before the man had a chance to change his mind.

  Albert switched on the overhead lights, revealing the long, open space. Ash glanced around, suddenly recalling his amazement the first time Remi had brought him into the garage. It was completely paneled in a dark, glossy wood, even the ceiling. The floor was a polished cement with flecks of color that glittered like jewels. There were five bays for the cars in front of him, and on the far end were built-in cabinets that went from floor to ceiling. And across the room, set in the wall, was a massive safe painted a bright red with an old-fashioned gold lock on the front.

  It was easy to see why people might assume this place was more than just a garage.

  “It looks just the same,” he murmured softly.

  “Mrs. Liza wanted everything to be kept just as it was before—”

  Albert always referred to the Walsh family like a servant from the Old South. Probably at Liza Harding-Walsh’s insistence. She liked to remind people that she was a person of importance.

  “Yeah, I get it,” Ash said, reaching out to lightly pat Albert’s shoulder.

  Ash knew Albert had been devoted to Gage. The two of them enjoyed working on cars together, as well as both being avid Chicago Bulls fans. The servant was still clearly grieving for his old friend.

  “It’s hard to let go,” Albert said.

  Ash nodded, feeling the old ache in the center of his being. Gage Walsh had been his mentor, his partner, and the man who was going to be his father-in-law. And he missed him every damned day.

  “Is the rest of the staff still around?” he asked, casually strolling down the center of the room.

  “No, it’s only me and Ms. Hodges now,” Albert told him.

  Ms. Hodges was the housekeeper. A middle-aged woman who Remi swore had the patience of a saint to deal with her mother.

  “That must keep you busy.”

  Albert shrugged. “It’s not too bad. Mrs. Liza rarely entertains at home anymore, and she drives herself unless she’s attending a formal event.”

  Ash continued forward, wondering if there was a reason Liza no longer wanted a dozen servants flittering around the place. Had her finances tightened? Or had she decided that it was ridiculous to have such a large staff to take care of one woman?

  Dismissing the question from his mind, Ash studied the cars parked in the bays. One was a glossy black Bentley that was worth a fortune. In the middle was a silver sedan. And at the far end was the Mustang.

  “Which car does Liza drive?” he asked.

  Albert nodded toward the sedan. “The BMW.”

  “Never the Mustang?”

  Albert moved to stand beside Ash, his expression suddenly tight with suspicion. “What’s going on, Detective?”

  Ash didn’t bother to remind the man that he was no longer with the force. For those who knew him in Chicago, he’d always be a cop. “I’m not sure if you heard the news that a young woman was found with her throat slit in a nearby park?”

  Albert nodded slowly, his expression still wary. “My wife was telling me about it.”

  “Did she say that the victim looked exactly like Remi?”

  He heard Albert suck in a sharp breath. “You think that monster is killing again?”

  “I do. That’s why I’m back in Chicago.”

  A genuine horror tightened Albert’s features. “Have you told Miss Remi?”

  Ash nodded. “I’m staying at her house.”

  “Good. She needs you.” Albert held Ash’s gaze, almost as if he was silently chiding him. “She’s always needed you.”

  Ash snorted. Did the man think he was the one who pushed her away? “She wouldn’t agree with you,” he said.

  Albert waved away his explanation. “Her head was all messed up. Can you blame her?”

  Did he blame her? Ash gave a mental shrug. Maybe a little. He’d tried to be the man she could turn to in times of trouble, but it hadn’t been enough. The knowledge had destroyed a small piece of his heart.

  Still, he would give his life to make sure she was safe.

  “I know, Albert,” he said with a small sigh. “Which is why I’m going to make damned sure she doesn’t have to go through anything like that again.”

  Albert squared his shoulders, his face hardening with determination. “What can I do?”

  Ash’s lips parted to offer a glib lie, only to have the words dry on his lips. There was no mistaking Albert’s fierce desire to help. He’d known Remi since she was a baby.

  “I’ve been doing some investigating separate from the police,” Ash forced himself to confess.

  Albert tilted his head to the side. “Why would it be separate?”

  “I’m no longer with the force,” he reminded his companion. “Which actually is a good thing. I don’t have to worry about all the tedious rules and regulations.”

  “Is that legal?”

  “I don’t care,” Ash said without apology. “Gage sacrificed everything to try to protect Remi. I plan to do the same.”

  A deep sadness touched Albert’s face before he was giving a firm nod. “That’s true.” The man stepped closer to Ash and lowered his voice, as if worried they might be overheard. “What are you investigating?”

  “I’ve been trying to locate anyone who might have been in the park the morning the woman was murdered.”

  “Did you find someone?”

  “I did.”

  Albert looked impressed. “They saw the Butcher?”

  Ash grimaced, silently reminding himself to ask Jax to check the surveillance tape for joggers and fishermen. It was a long shot that one of them c
ould be the killer, but it would be a perfect way to fade into the background.

  “Impossible to know for certain,” he admitted. “But he did give me one clue.”

  “What was it?”

  Ash took a second to consider his response. If the Mustang had no connection to the park, he was going to upset Albert for no reason. And if it did have a connection . . . He shuddered. In truth, he hadn’t fully considered the possibility or the potential fallout.

  Giving a small shake of his head, Ash shoved aside his sudden doubt. Instead, he glanced toward Gage’s car. “The man who was in the park was nearly run over by a yellow Mustang with flames painted on the side,” he told his companion.

  Albert made a choked sound as he moved to stand in front of the Mustang. As if he intended to protect it from Ash.

  “You can’t think it was this car?”

  “I have to check.” Ash offered an apologetic smile even as he moved to the side of the car, his gaze running over the glossy automobile. In the shadowed bay, it was hard to determine if there was any indication it’d recently been driving through the park. “Does anyone use the Mustang?”

  “No one but me.” Albert’s tone was oddly tight. Like he was being strangled by some unseen source. “I take all the cars out at least a couple of times a month to make sure the engines are running smooth.”

  Ash gave an absent nod, rounding the back of the car. “When was the last time you had the Mustang out?”

  “Not the morning the woman was killed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Ash jerked up his head, studying Albert’s flushed face with a pang of regret. Clearly, the man had assumed he was there to accuse him of the crime.

  “I’m not trying to imply you were involved, Albert,” Ash assured him.

  “Right,” Albert growled. “Everyone always blames the ex-con.” He pointed a finger at Ash. “But I’ll tell you this, I love Miss Remi as if she was my own daughter.”

  Ash held up his hands in apology. The older man wasn’t just angry, he was deeply hurt. “I know. I’m not here to accuse you, I swear.”

  Albert jutted out his chin. “Then why look at the car?”