Chasing Time

Eyes of Jade Excerpt

Tess St. John

Jake jolted awake in a cold sweat, his pulse pounding in his ears. The beeping of his cell phone registered. He pressed his face into the pillow and concentrated on inhaling deep breaths. Five years and he still couldn’t escape the nightmare: the images of her beaten body, the metallic scent of blood, and the terror that squeezed his heart like a tourniquet.

His phone beeped again. He rolled over and grabbed it off the nightstand. “Jake Dane.”

“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

The first gray haze of morning filtered through the blinds. “I’m on vacation.”

“Not anymore.” The line clicked dead.

With a glance at the empty space beside him, a familiar twinge tightened in his chest. With no time to dwell, he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower.

Ten minutes later, hair still wet, he slid into the passenger side of the unmarked Mercury Sable. “This better be good.”

His partner, Stewart Rainey, hit the gas pedal and raced down the street. Jake waved to his neighbor, who was in his robe and slippers dragging a trash can to the curb. Rain clouds dipped low in the sky, promising relief from the stifling Houston heat.

“No coffee?” Jake grumbled.

“We’ll stop on the way. Nothing with a smell is tolerated at my house. Peg’s miserable and still claims it’s my fault.”

“You did get her pregnant.”

“Vasectomies are supposed to work.”

Jake grinned. “Maybe you should’ve gotten that last checkup.”

“I did, we just hadn’t gotten the results. It’s a crime when a man can’t make love to his wife without using a fucking condom. No pun intended.” Stewart checked his rearview mirror. “I don’t remember her morning sickness being this bad with the other two.”

Traffic crawled bumper to bumper in the heart of the city, even at six-thirty in the morning. Jake’s phone vibrated, and he fished it out of his pocket. Sam, his ex-partner, was calling—no doubt worried Jake would spend the day alone. Jake didn’t answer but texted him instead. Couldn’t answer. Working today.

And before she called, he texted his mother. Vacation canceled. I’m at work. She’d be relieved he wasn’t at the beach house watching waves crash to the shore. Taking vacation on this day each year and spending it at the beach had become his ritual.

Stewart exited the highway and hung a right at the first corner. The road transformed into a quiet street lined by massive oaks and dense foliage. A quarter mile down the street, a metal gate stood open with police officers and vehicles surrounding the entrance. Squad cars’ red lights flashed in the morning gloom.

Stewart rolled down his window and flashed his badge to the officers, then parked on the asphalt drive inside the fence. On the other side of the fire engines and more police cars, the rubble of a warehouse smoldered. Portions of the gray building remained two to three feet high around the ruins—everything charred in black soot. By the overgrown grass and weeds, he guessed the place hadn’t been used in years.

Firefighters lingered around the perimeter of the property, their coats open, some still in black helmets. A few folded hoses onto the trucks.

In a blue pinstriped suit, Kirk McDermott strode from the back of the property. With his side-parted brown hair and spit-shined loafers, he was the epitome of a straight-laced FBI agent. McDermott shook hands with Stewart, then Jake. “I’m the case agent.”

“Why are we here?” Jake asked.

McDermott reached inside his coat and pulled out a small clear evidence bag. Inside was a soup can-size spool with a hook on the top.

Stewart whistled. “A triggered spark gap.”

Innocent enough when used to ignite electrical shock waves to break up kidney stones, the device could also be used to detonate a nuclear bomb.

“First responders found it on the front steps.” McDermott frowned. “With a note.” He held out another baggie which had a piece of paper with one word written on it. BOOM.

“Why is this familiar?” Stewart asked softly, mostly to himself.

Nothing about this felt familiar to Jake. He pulled his camera from his coat pocket and took pictures of the device and note.

“Someone intentionally torched the warehouse. We just don’t know if it’s a random or deliberate act against the owner.” McDermott hesitated. “There’s more. Last week a non-profit organization purchased the place. The only executive on the organization’s records is Eve Knight.”

Stewart stiffened. “The Eve Knight?”

“One and the same.”

Stewart’s face lit up. His wife loved Hollywood gossip.

Jake cringed. All they needed was a spoiled-ass actress with an attitude. “Has anyone contacted Ms. Knight or is she in this debris?”

“She canceled a private flight to Bush Intercontinental last night and caught the earliest commercial flight from LA this morning. She’s due to land in Houston within the hour.” McDermott’s brown eyes were hard—like he’d seen everything in life and nothing surprised him anymore.

“Would she have done this for the insurance money?” Jake asked.

“Records show she paid in cash and insured it for the exact amount of the purchase, so it’s doubtful.” McDermott placed the triggered spark gap and note back in his pocket. “You need to intercept Ms. Knight, inform her about the warehouse, and bring her in for questioning. It won’t be easy since she’s on a commercial flight.”

Jake didn’t follow Hollywood, but no one missed Eve Knight’s picture on the cover of magazines in every grocery store, her movie trailers, or the ridiculous stories about her on TV and the news. Not to mention reruns of the sitcom Raising Trudy. She’d starred on the show as a young girl.

McDermott checked his watch. “You better head out. We’ve talked to the airlines and asked them to keep her on the plane until you arrive.”

Great, they’d have to deal with airport security. This day got better and better.

On the way to the airport, Stewart chattered like a schoolgirl. “I’ve read quite a bit about Eve. They say she’s a nice person. Her fans love her.”

“You can’t believe everything you read.”

Stewart ignored Jake’s remark and slapped the steering wheel. “Wait until I tell Peg. She won’t believe Eve Knight is in Houston.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Will she be as excited as you?”

“What’s up your ass?”

“I’m supposed to be on vacation, away from this shit.”

“The real reason.” One thing about partners, they sensed things others couldn’t.

“This wasn’t a random arson if someone left a triggered spark gap and a note.”

“Oh my God, it’s EveKnight.”

Eve flinched as she grabbed her phone and considered ignoring the lady, but she didn’t want to appear rude. Because she wasn’t rude, no matter what the Hollywood rags wrote about her. Why had the flight attendant asked her to wait for an escort? The last time she flew commercially, she’d been instructed to get off the plane first.

Giving in to the inevitable, she dropped her phone into her purse, not having turned it on yet. With a flick of her hand, the scarf fell from around her hair to her neck, and she took off her sunglasses. She rose and faced the passengers exiting. On a plane this size, the door was behind the seats in first class, so she’d hoped to avoid the travelers since they wouldn’t pass in the aisle. No such luck.

A red-haired woman gasped and slapped the arm of the man beside her. “I told you.” Her smile was huge and toothy. “Eve, I’m your biggest fan. I can’t believe we rode on the same plane. Are you in Houston for long?”

“I’m not sure. It’s nice to meet you.”

Others on the plane bobbed their heads and craned their necks to get a glimpse of her.

The woman squealed. “Can I get a picture with you?”

That photo led to at least ten other pictures with people Eve had never met and would never meet again.

How many of these people believed what the press reported and wrote about her? Did they trust the media’s version of her life—which had little to do with her real life?

As a child, her stepfather sheltered her from the vultures. In her late teens, her emotions see-sawed with every piece of gossip she heard and read. Finally, in her twenties, after her divorce and rehab, she realized nothing written or reported in the media was worth worrying over. It didn’t define her.

When the last passengers were gone, Eve gathered her purse and computer bag. Two men charged onto the plane, flashing their badges. She recognized the FBI insignia having played an agent in one of her movies. She’d even worked with actual agents to make her character more realistic.

“Hello, Ms. Knight. My name is Stewart Rainey, and this is Jake Dane. We’re from the local FBI office.”

Stewart Rainey. Jake Dane.Eve studied each man and repeated the names five times in her head. The trick her agent taught her as a child had come in useful her whole life. She rarely forgot a name.

The men were of a similar build, both around six feet. However, their likeness ended there. The one who spoke, Stewart Rainey, had happy blue eyes, his blond hair in a flat-top, and dressed in slacks with a blazer. Jake Dane had solemn green eyes, a deep tan, and brown hair much longer than his partner’s—almost touching his collar. He wore well-fitted jeans, a polo with a white T-shirt underneath, and a sports jacket strained over his broad shoulders.

“Can you tell me what this is about?” she asked.

Agent Rainey gestured to her computer bag and held out his hand. “An incident occurred at the property you bought here in Houston.”

She passed him the bag. “An incident? At the warehouse?”

“We’ll explain on the way to the property.”

“Thank you.” If she’d arrived on schedule last night, a limo would’ve been waiting in a private hangar, but this morning she expected to hail a taxi.

She followed in Agent Rainey’s wake, hoping to get out of the airport without too much interference.

Agent Dane, who stayed at her side, scowled.

He stepped between her and the crowd when eager fans ran up. “Please, let us through. Ms. Knight is late for an appointment.”

While she waved, she whispered under her breath, “It’s easier if I acknowledge them. Trust me. I’ve dealt with this my whole life.” She faced the crowd. Phone cameras flickered like strobe lights in the darkened terminal. Even though it was eight in the morning, the dismal weather outside cast an ominous drape over the day.

As she took a step to skirt the agent and reached for an outstretched pen, she felt her upper arm being grasped. Again, Agent Dane positioned his body between her and the crowd. “Sorry, folks. Ms. Knight is late.”

She waved as he rushed her away from the fans, his grip not crushing, yet firm—very firm. Why was he in such a rush? Her name rang out often while the agents hurried her through the corridors.

She’d been in the limelight since the age of six, and although the attention was a nuisance, she had a certain responsibility to the fans. They were the ones who bought the tickets, the ones who—in essence—paid her salary. She respected that and respected them. Now the people she just dissed might call her a snob, or claim she was too good to give them the time of day. “You didn’t do me any favors back there.”

“I’m not here to do favors.” Agent Dane’s voice sounded like a growl.

She stopped and twisted from his hold, fed up with his cloak-and-dagger routine. “Why are you here?”

The agents each reached for her arms.

“Don’t you dare. You won’t drag me out of here like I’ve done something wrong.”

“We can’t discuss this here.” Agent Rainey glanced about. “Will you please come with us?” He held out his arm. At least he seemed to be giving her a choice. She took the proffered arm and let him guide her. Outside the automatic glass doors, a sedan waited. Agent Dane held the car door open, and she slid inside. He followed right behind her, his big body crowding hers. Rainey hopped into the driver’s seat.

Before they drove out of the covered parking garage, she huffed. “What’s this about my warehouse?”

Agent Dane’s eyes reminded her of uncut pieces of jade, the color brilliant, yet flat—lifeless. “Why didn’t you make your chartered flight last night?” he asked.

A stab of sadness pierced her heart, her loss still new. “Something came up.”

“What?”

It wasn’t any of his business. “I don’t see why you’re ask—”

“We need to know.”

After the night she’d suffered and how she’d accommodated these agents, his tone and interruption angered her. “You’re the—”

“Answer the question.”

She folded her arms over her chest, having no intention of telling the ill-mannered agent anything.

“A fire destroyed your warehouse.”

Alarm seared her nerves, and she lurched forward. “My warehouse?” How long would it take to rebuild?

From the front seat, Agent Rainey shook his head. “Jake, you didn’t need to blurt it out.”

“Yes, I did. She’s angry we wouldn’t let her greet her adoring fans. We don’t have time for her to play America’s Sweetheart.”

She’d never wanted to be America’s Sweetheart.

Dane rubbed his forehead. “Someone deliberately set the fire. We’re trying to figure out if someone is trying to send you a message or hurt you.”

Shock vibrated through her. “I hoped this was behind me. I never expected to live anonymously here in Houston, but figured I might escape the crazy stalkers.” Her life had been threatened many times, yet luckily nothing ever developed beyond threats.

Until now.

An eerie shiver jangled down her spine. “You can’t be sure someone is after me. The warehouse needed drastic repairs. Maybe the gas line exploded when the utility company turned it on.” Another thought occurred to her. “Why is the fire a Bureau issue?”

Agent Dane pulled a camera from his coat pocket and showed her a picture. “This was found at the warehouse.”

Eve gasped. “That’s a triggered spark gap.”

“How do you know what it is?”

“One was used as part of the script on a film I made.”

Rainey regarded her in the rearview mirror. “That’s what felt familiar. In Till We Meet Again, you played the FBI agent in charge of protecting it.”

How sweet, Rainey is a fan.

She met Dane’s annoyed gaze. He, clearly, was not a fan.

Rainey continued. “They left a note with boom written on it as well.”

“You’re kidding?” Who would do this? “Surely my warehouse wasn’t blown up with a nuclear bomb.”

“No.” Dane turned off the camera. “But this is why we were assigned to the case.”

She studied his chiseled features. “What if I want my own bodyguards?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Rainey said. “We’re going to take you to the property, then to the office.”

She reached inside her purse. “I need to call my dad.”

Rainey’s deep voice came from the front seat. “We’ll have to rule him out as a suspect first.”

She blew out an appalled breath. “My dad would never do this.”

“Until we are satisfied he didn’t do it, you’re not to contact him,” Dane insisted.

Now they were trying to provoke her. Her heartbeat picked up speed. “You can’t forbid me to speak to my father.”

“Yes, we can.” Dane glared out the rear window.

“You’re being unreasonable.” She laughed before nagging fear gripped her. Who set fire to her warehouse? And why leave a triggered spark gap and note like in one of her movies?

Keeping her demeanor calm was almost impossible with her heart pounding so fast. But she’d acted most of her life. She could do it.

A twinge of pain twitched in her head. Oh, crumbs, all I need is a headache.

Eve was too calm. Spookycalm. Any other woman would be freaking out. Not Eve Knight. Just seconds ago she’d been laughing.

Her attitude pissed Jake off. She needed to be on guard, more aware of potential danger.

Ready to lecture her, Jake studied her first. On closer inspection, her hands were clutched together in her lap, knuckles white and her body shook. Now that he thought about it, her laugh had sounded a bit hysterical. First impression aside, he could tell she was terrified.

Although Eve had been a cute kid on Raising Trudy, cute no longer described her. As she grew up, and he saw her in a couple of her early movies, he wasn’t immune to her girl-next-door-you’d-like-to-jump looks. And now, well, she glowed with simple beauty, from her shiny, brunette hair to her flawless, radiant skin. In jeans and a button-down top, she didn’t flaunt her petite body, but he didn’t miss her delicate, perfect curves.

Her eyes were what undid him though. So dark, so outwardly innocent. One glimpse into those brown depths and her soul appeared laid out before him.

She was out of her ever-loving beautiful mind if she believed moving to Houston would help her escape fans and the paparazzi.

His hardened attitude softened a bit, like releasing a held breath. He wanted to place a hand over hers to give her encouragement, unsure if she’d accept it. They hadn’t gotten off on the best foot. He’d expected her to protest and fight him and Stewart. So he’d been more insistent than necessary making sure she understood they were in charge.

But after seeing her this scared, he regretted his hard-ass attitude. “Sorry about what happened at the airport.”

She didn’t respond.

Is she even listening?“Can you tell us why you missed your flight last night?”

“Something important came up.” Her voice quivered.

He slid his arm behind her on the car seat, trying to lend her strength without touching her. With no family or friends, she might need a lot more strength before this case ended. For now, this would have to do.

He cleared his throat. “We need a list of everyone who knew you purchased the warehouse and knew you were coming to Houston last night.”

“Only my family and Paige knew.”

“Paige?”

“My agent, Paige Delano.” She blinked slowly. “I’m sure no one else expected me to arrive until Friday for the benefit.”

“What benefit?”

“A benefit for my charity is arranged for this weekend.”

One thing at a time; the benefit could wait. “When you say your family, who are you talking about?”

“My father, sister, and brother.”

“You mean your stepfather and stepbrother, right?” Stewart took a sharp right.

“They’re my family.” By her tone, she didn’t consider them step anything.

“Do any of them know you didn’t make your flight last night?” Jake asked.

“No. I was at the hospital until this morning, I’m sure they think I flew out last night.” When she finished her sentence, they drove up to the warehouse. “Oh my God,” she whispered.