Chapter 10 #2
Dane saw the ME in the shot as they loaded the body bags into the back of his wagon. Based on the man’s body language, he didn’t like the subterfuge. He only hoped none of the newsies noticed.
As if on cue, the camera flashed to the two in-studio local news anchors and the woman, Karen Swanson, said to her cohort, Ed someone, “It’s hard to believe two bodies could survive the incineration and wreckage of that explosion, isn’t it?”
Dane felt everyone in the basement hideaway suck in a breath. Then Ed came to their rescue with his commentary.
“I can only guess that they were somehow insulated from the bulk of the damage,”
Dane said, “Remind me to send that guy a fifth of tequila when this is over.”
“Quiet. The mayor’s car pulled up.” Shana didn’t take her eyes from the television as she admonished him. “The briefing is going to start now.”
“You mean the bullshit is going to start.” Dane couldn’t help himself.
He figured they had a less than twenty percent chance of convincing Whitey Nash they were dead.
He was fairly certain there were some questions in the mind of at least one of the reporters—the only local reporter worth her salt, Meggie Brown.
They’d had a thing for a short while years ago.
Lucky for him she’d broken it off. She’d treated him well in the press ever since. But she knew him—and Shana—well.
Shana turned to him with a bland yet pointed glare. “What’s your problem?”
“Meggie Brown.”
Shana said nothing for a beat and then nodded.
“The reporter?” Ronnie said. “She likes you too much to rat you out—even if she does suspect it’s a scam.”
“I hope you’re right, kid.” Dane sat up as the camera zoomed in on the lineup of officials behind all the microphones. He rubbed a hand over his newly bald head and decided he preferred having hair.
“Shh.” Shana put one hand up, her eyes glued to the screen again.
He wondered if she preferred him with hair.
She hadn’t made any overt comment on his changed appearance, though she had taken it in with a small shudder of shock that he hadn’t missed.
As for Shana’s new she-devil look, how could he not like it when it suited her so well?
He supposed he’d be enthralled by her if she had green hair, grew horns and dressed in rags.
But since she’d arrived she’d been more purposely distant than he could handle. Shana was scary cold in her anger, focusing on Whitey Nash.
Dane would need to kill the man no matter what, to keep him from killing Shana—and to keep Whitey from driving her crazy.
And he could not let her do it. He feared that would drive them both over the edge.
Dane knew a large chunk of Shana’s vitriol for Whitey was all about guilt for having purposely scarred him, mutilated him the way she had.
If she killed Whitey, unless it was strictly by-the-book self-defense, she’d feel even more shame and guilt.
Dane could do it. He had no shame and no conscience.
The governor spoke first. It was part eulogy and part promise to put the muscle of the state police behind the investigation into the explosion and murder of his heroic friends and to bring the perpetrators to justice.
The mayor went next and the slick young man echoed the governor’s words and praised him for the great work that had already been accomplished. He invited the medical examiner to the microphone and all the newsies leaned in with their virtual pencils sharpened.
Dane held his breath. Dr. Freddie Ustis was their weak link.
He was a no-nonsense type with no tolerance for anything but the facts and the unvarnished truth.
Normally, Dane counted on that, even admired it in the man.
He was a by-the-book guy and they must have had to severely twist his arm to go along with the scam.
If Freddie faded on them, if he wasn’t up to pulling this off, then Whitey would know and he’d proceed to taunt Shana with Sassy’s life, dangling her well-being in some horrific way to lure her.
Dane had no doubt about it. The ME spoke.
“I examined the two bodies that were taken from the . . . wreckage,” he waved a hand behind him, “examined dental records . . . and other indicators and have conclusively determined that they were the remains of Dane Blaise and Shana George.” Dr. Ustis turned from the podium without waiting a beat and stepped away.
Cap stepped up to the mob of questions being shouted.
“Before we move to questions, I want to acknowledge the regret of the office of the State Police Headquarters on the loss of great friends and partners in many endeavors.” He paused and looked down as if he were choking up.
Dane figured Cap needed to steel himself to go on with the con job, which was admittedly a bit outside of his wheelhouse. So far, though, he was doing well.
“A funeral and memorial service for Dane and Shana will be held tomorrow morning at the Church of Saint Rose for the family, friends and community to pay their respects.” He continued on to talk about the manpower they were devoting to their search for the perpetrators and then added something that Dane had no idea was coming.
“Information has come to this office’s attention from the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission which has helped us identify two potential suspects in this case.
Their names are Whitey Nash and Eli Hughes.
Their photographs will be distributed to all officers and made available to the press.
” He then held up two photos and the camera zoomed in on the horrific face of Whitey Nash.
“Damn.”
“Shit,” Joe said. “I hope this provokes Whitey.”
Shana spun around and said, “I’m sure Cap is trying to help. I’m sure he’s trying to keep Whitey in place.”
Dane stood. “At midnight, we’re making a trip to Sassy’s house. We need to put eyes on her and on Whitey.”
“Then what?” Ronnie said. The kid’s fists were balled in rage. He was clearly ready to take on all comers.
“If we can take out Whitey and his partner without risk to Sassy, we do.”
“If not, we take Sassy anyway.” The kid’s fists were turning white.
“No. We can’t leave Whitey alive. He’s not going to give up on his vengeance. He’d continue to go after Shana. It would be too dangerous for her.”
“For everyone,” Shana said. “But we signed up for the risk. So what the hell—”
Joe said, “We can’t take out Whitey unless he shoots first. We’d have to call the police in or we’ll be arrested for manslaughter, at the least.”
“We can’t call the cops,” Dane said. “That puts Sassy at too much risk. Hostage situations like this don’t generally end well for the hostage.”
“I don’t mind taking a shot at Whitey’s back,” Shana said. He met her eyes.
“You aren’t going.”
“Try and stop me.” She stared him down and he nodded. Then he spun her around, holding both her arms behind her in a grip rivaling the effectiveness of handcuffs.
“After the pie shop, we need to assume he’s set a trap. No one’s going inside. This is strictly reconnaissance. We’ll get them when they come out—”
“They have the pies. They took the pies from the shop to make sure they had provisions. They had no intentions of going out,” Shana said. “They’re in hiding until the funeral. We know at least Whitey will come out for the funeral. He won’t be able to resist checking it out to confirm our demise.”
“I know.”
“You could be waiting there all night. One wrong move, if he discovers you, and he could slit Sassy’s throat. You shouldn’t go. We should all wait.”
“The hell with that,” Ronnie said. “We should go now.”
“We’re going. At midnight, as planned. We need to check on Sassy. But won’t staying long. He’ll never know we were there. We have night vision and ultra-sensitive bugging devices to pick up anything within fifty yards. We need to find out Sassy’s status and Whitey’s plan.”
“Great. What do we do until then?”
He gave her that devilish smile that never failed to make her belly quiver and even now, with her anger and the hurt of betrayal simmering just below the surface, that smile cut through everything.
She felt the spark of lust dominate everything else.
Clenching her jaw against the desire, against the crazy need to throw herself into his arms, to feel his strength, she held herself still, kept those feelings from her face.
Or so she hoped. Dane had a way of reading her. So, as he stared at her, saying nothing for several interminable beats, she showed him what she thought.
She gave him her middle finger and spun around. Then she sprang up the cement steps to the bulkhead door before he could stop her. She would call Vendi to come and pick her up. She could spend the day with him, hole up in his basement at the USCG station.
Damn. Damn. Damn it to hell.
His first inclination was to let her go.
But it didn’t last a blink before he had the base need to go after her, one he didn’t ignore.
He ran up the steps and barely caught the heavy metal bulkhead door before she’d slammed it closed.
The bright sunlight of the day nearly blinded him as he threw the door back and shot from the opening.
He looked right down the back alley and saw her running.
Without hesitation, he ran after her, ignoring the activity around him, the cars, the garbage men coming for the trash, and as he rounded the corner to the street, the whole world was waiting.
If someone saw him and recognized him, all bets would be off.
Their deception would be exposed and Whitey would be in the wind.
He didn’t think about what would become of Sassy.