Hard To Handle

“Well…you’ll stay here, of course. At least for now.”

He thought about that, and he wondered what thoughts she was hiding behind that curtain. She put her hand on his shoulder then, and the hated tears filled his eyes again.

“How about if you stay with me until we sort this out? Then later…you and I will talk about our options. Is it a deal?”

Her hand left his shoulder, and she held it in front of him. He looked at it, then at her. He tried poking under that curtain one more time, but it was closed tight. He couldn’t tell what the truth was. And although he didn’t have the words for it, he knew he was out of choices.

Slowly, tentatively, he loosened his grasp on the glass and placed his hand in hers.

Chapter 1

Three Months Later

Gabe Connally had been alive and he’d been dead. It’d taken a few years, but he’d developed a preference for being alive.

His gaze met his partner’s in a silent exchange before he lifted his fist to pound on the door. “Police, D’Brusco. We have a few questions for you.”

There was a tiny noise in the apartment, and the detectives had an instant to act before bullets splintered the wood in a miserable parody of a greeting.

With his cheek resting against the smooth, cool tile of the hallway floor, Gabe recalled being told that it had taken a miracle to return him from the ninety seconds he’d spent suspended above his bullet-ridden body in St. Lucien’s emergency room. In the tension-filled moments that followed the barrage of gunfire, he fleetingly wondered how many miracles a man was allowed in one lifetime.

Scrambling into position, he glanced at Cal Madison as the other man mouthed the signal. On “three” he kicked the shredded door in and entered the room low. He heard Cal mutter a curse behind him. Weapons drawn, they stalked through the well-furnished apartment.

“Empty,” Cal pronounced disgustedly a few moments later.

“Only one other way out.” Without wasting a motion Gabe went through the open terrace door, following D’Brusco’s escape route.

“When are you going to learn that we move after three. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Madison craned his neck, scanned the wide cobblestone alley. In a neighborhood as trendy as this one, even the alleys had ambiance.

Gabe ran across the terrace to the fire escape. “After? Since when? We’ve always moved on three.” Deftly he swung over the wall of the terrace and began his descent.

“We’ve never gone on three. It’s always been after.” Even with the exertion of following him, Madison’s voice wasn’t winded. The man could nag without taking a breath.

“The problem is, you’re always changing the rules.” Gabe kept his weapon steady as he observed the alley for signs of life. “On three, after three, who could keep it straight? Leave things uncomplicated. They go smoother that way.”

“Only you could complicate a simple count to three,” Madison muttered. He dropped lightly down beside his partner, and without a word they fanned out, covering the alley.

Minutes later, they rejoined, holstering their weapons. “Damn. If he was on foot he’s either a champion sprinter or else he ducked into one of the shops’ back doors.” Gabe hunched his leather-clad shoulders against the biting wind. Chicago in the spring was a malicious tease, coupling promising bouts of bright sunshine with frigid blasts of air. The sunlight had already begun to fade over the fashionable skyline, but the winds blowing off the lake showed no sign of abating.

Cal didn’t react to the weather since he was sensibly outfitted in his winter parka and muffler and would be until the flowers started blooming. He believed going out in varying temperatures was a leading cause of pneumonia. “Think he had a car stashed back here?”

“It’s a tow area. But he could have had one waiting.”

“Meaning he was expecting company,” concluded Cal.

“Judging from his greeting, he wasn’t expecting friends.”

“Not exactly the reaction I’d expect from a penny-ante ex-con like Lenny D’Brusco.”

Gabe grunted his agreement, already tallying the doors lining the alley. “Front or back?”

An eternal optimist, Cal replied, “Back. We’ll work our way to the front, maybe catch a lead, grab a sandwich and be home in time for tip-off.”

Gabe was more realistic. With a wave of resignation, he mentally kissed off his plan for a quiet evening in the recliner with pizza, beer and a lively Bulls game on television. He hadn’t set the VCR. Something told him the only parts of the game he’d see tonight were the highlights reshown on ESPN.

“I don’t know,” Meghan told her nephew with mock seriousness. “I’m still considering buying something educational for your birthday present. Maybe a set of encyclopedias.”

Danny clutched his throat and made gagging noises. His antics forced a smile from his aunt. They’d come to the quaint toy store in search of ideas for Danny’s upcoming birthday. After spending almost an hour there, it appeared that the boy wouldn’t be dissuaded from the items that had seized his attention almost immediately.

“But, Aunt Meggie, I can’t even read that good yet. And I could learn from these electronic dinosaurs, too. My teacher says we should study animals that are extincted.”

“Extinct.”

“Yeah. And if I got two of them, Alex could play with one with me, and he’d be learning, too.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

Danny’s eyes were alight with an excitement she’d rarely seen there, and the sight sent an odd pang to Meghan’s chest. “I could take them outside again and you could watch what they can do. They can have fights and make noises and everything.”

She glanced at her watch. She’d arranged for the cab driver to return for them, and the allotted time was almost up. “Tell you what. You put the dinosaurs back in the display case, and I’ll keep them in mind. Your birthday isn’t for three more weeks.”

“Nineteen and a half days,” he corrected. On this subject he was very exact.

“Nineteen and a half days,” Meghan repeated. “So we still have plenty of time.” She followed Danny as he went over to replace the toys, taking his time positioning them. The toy store was as unique as her friend Callie had promised, with inviting displays of unpackaged items that allowed children to manipulate the toys. As a marketing ploy it was amazingly effective, Meghan thought, as her gaze wandered to the front of the store, watching for the taxi through the plateglass window. Fifteen minutes spent playing with the dinosaurs on the patio in the alley had certainly hooked Danny.

The door opened then and a tall dark-haired man entered. His gaze swept the interior of the store. When it landed on her for a moment, she felt it like a physical touch. An inexplicable shiver skated down her spine, and she turned to hurry her nephew along.

“You know what I saw when I was playing with the dinosaurs outside?”

“Hmm?” Her nephew had only a fraction of her attention. Her concentration was diverted by the man who was now approaching the counter.

“It was way cool. There were funny noises and a guy dropped out of the sky. Then…”

The boy’s words seemed to fuse with the scene at the counter, where the stranger was flashing a shield at the clerk. A sense of déja` vu hit Meghan in a nauseating wave, and for a moment she was deaf to Danny’s words. Flight was the most primitive instinct known to man, and the urge to flee nearly overwhelmed her.

“…and then the first guy ran to the car…”

“We’ll talk about it when we get home.” Meghan’s voice held an unusual edge, and the boy sent her a startled glance before falling silent. She didn’t notice. Her focus was on the man, the cop, who’d just engaged another customer in a conversation she was too far away to overhear.

Placing one arm on Danny’s shoulder, she guided him toward the door, disguising her haste behind a barrage of words. “We’d better check on our cab. We told the driver to come back in an hour, and I doubt he’ll wait for long. Rush hour is the worst time to find another taxi.”

She inched the boy closer to the door as she spoke. With every additional measure of distance placed between them and the policeman, the vise on her lungs eased slightly. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, she reached for the doorknob. Her fingers turned nerveless when a gravelly voice sounded behind her.

“Could I ask you a few questions before you leave, ma’am?”

Forcing herself to turn around she looked up, farther than she’d expected, to meet the enigmatic gaze of the man who’d stopped her. “I’m sorry.” She managed, somehow, to keep her voice dispassionate. “We’re in a hurry.”

“This will only take a moment. Detective Connally, ma’am. CPD.” The silver badge imprinted with the telling star was held out for her perusal. She didn’t need the badge or his words to accurately guess the man’s profession. There was cop in his eyes, in his voice.