Chasing Shadows (4 page)

Forget about Chase.  After tomorrow, he'd never see him or this place again.

Up and down the street, houses were decked out with plastic Santas, snowmen and a rainbow of blinking lights.  The twilight of the winter night made Jay's unadorned home seem small, lonely as Charlie Brown's pathetic Christmas tree.  He hadn't had the heart to get any of the decorations down from the attic.  The last time he'd seen them was last year when he and Chase carefully packed them away after their parents' funeral.

"You all right?" KC asked, sliding one hand down his arm to squeeze his hand.  

That was the thing about KC.  Yeah, she was hot, with a body that was lean and tight, but she didn't treat him like any of the girls at school did.  She didn't look at him with pity because he'd been on his own this past year after his folks died and Chase left to screw up his own life.  Didn't think he was a loser because instead of graduating with Neil and his other friends last June, he'd had to repeat most of his senior year and at nineteen was older than a lot of the other kids.  

KC didn't mother him.  She cared about him, took the time to listen, to find out what he really wanted.

And she was helping to make those dreams come true.  No more boring high school classes, no cafeteria nightmares with the cliques and mini-dramas the other kids seemed to think passed for real life.  Jay was out of this place with its three bars, two stop lights, and one grocery store, its dreary weather and even drearier future. 

"You nervous?"  KC asked.  She zipped her black leather jacket up tight, the Mustang's heater wasn't the most efficient. 

Jay shrugged in answer to her question and cranked the Godsmack on the stereo.  KC didn't say anything.  Another nice thing about her, she knew when to shut up.  Unlike girls his own age.  They all seemed like such children compared to KC.

They drove through downtown, taking all of two minutes despite being caught at the red light in front of Coalton Drugs, the town's communication center.  Old Man Sinderson had had a field day after the scandal with Chase. 
Those Westin boys, run wild with no parents to watch over them, knew no good would ever come of them
, he proclaimed to anyone who came near his perch behind the counter.
The oldest kicked out of the Marines, served time for almost killing a soldier, the youngest almost flunked out of school, even though he's meant to be some kind of genius.

The Mustang passed St. Augustine's and Grace Lutheran churches with their shared Nativity scene.  Christmas Day everyone in town would crowd into one or the other, even those not of the religious persuasion, and at noon precisely, the children of Coalton would parade out from the church doors and escort Baby Jesus to his proper place in the Nativity.  

Jay would miss that, he'd been a part of the procession when he was young, still felt the sting of tears when he watched with the grownups as the children, faces earnest and joyful, sang "Away in a Manger".  

One thing he wouldn't miss was the combined high school and middle-school across the street, "Home of the Fighting Miners".  

They drove toward the graveyard where his parents were buried.  Even Old Man Sinderson wouldn't say that Sally and Hank Westin deserved the fate that befell them Christmas Eve last year.  One of the Kleindeist boys, underage and drunk on Everclear, plowed into them going close to ninety miles an hour.  He'd emerged, wobbly but unscathed from his car.  The Westins never had a chance.

"Want to stop?" KC asked as the field crowded with marble markers came up on their left.

Jay averted his eyes, blinked hard.  Earlier today he'd tried to say goodbye to his parents, to Diana, the older sister he'd never known.  He'd ended up just sitting there like a zombie, feeling sorry for himself.  He didn't like thinking about stuff like death and what lay beyond, but in the last two months he'd been forced to face the very real possibility that one slip and Bruno Gianotti would have him killed.  

If there was some kind of life after death or any sort of decent god, then he hoped maybe his parents were still looking out after him from wherever they were.  Maybe they were the ones who sent him KC and his chance for a new life.  

"S'okay.  We're late anyway."

Except for the Korn now blaring from the radio, there was silence until they reached the neighborhood where Neil Gianotti, Jay's best friend since sixth grade, lived.  At the end of the street there was one really big house set back from the plain old Cape Cod's and ranches where regular folks lived.   

The mansion was Neil's house.  Mrs. Gianotti had split years ago.  Mr. Gianotti ran a moving and storage company, was on the road a lot—at least that was what Jay had thought until two months ago.

KC's house was next door, she'd only moved in last month, and he parked in the driveway of her Cape Cod.  Neil's father didn't like strange cars crowding his drive.

They crunched through the snow and headed to Neil's back door.  KC's Doc Martens left deep impressions in the snow despite the fact that she was pretty skinny.  Not thin in a bad way like some of the girls at school who acted like they'd explode if they actually finished a meal.  KC loved to eat, just she was always moving, as if she'd be too good a target if she sat still too long.

Jay swallowed against a wave of nervousness.  He'd have to learn how to live with that feeling of having a constant target on his back.  Learn how to not let anyone get too close, not trust anyone with the truth.  

No more best friends like Neil.  Maybe no more friends, period—how could you call yourself a friend if you couldn't tell the truth?  His stomach did a small flip-flop as he thought about leaving Neil, trying to say good-bye without saying good-bye.   

KC had told him a little about what to expect, how to handle it, but they both knew he'd have to find his own way of dealing with the jitters.  The loneliness.  And the guilt.    

KC's way was to box.  She'd pound on the heavy bag Chase left behind until sweat dripped from her spiked hair and her muscles shook with fatigue.  Jay had never told her, but sometimes when she worked out, he'd watch from across the basement as he lifted weights, and he thought she looked really sexy then, right at the point where she worked up a frenzy, chasing her demons, whupping them good.

As Neil ushered them into the kitchen, Jay wished he and KC could be more than just friends.  Everyone in town thought they were serious, sleeping together, but Jay knew it would never happen.  Still, he enjoyed thinking about what it would be like, if only—

"Earth to Jay," Neil interrupted his fantasy.  "I asked did you want some pop?"

KC wished Jay didn't feel such loyalty to his friend.  But then, if Jay and Neil weren't friends and if Neil's father wasn't the largest illegal arms dealer on the East Coast, she wouldn't be here.

Which maybe wouldn't be such a bad thing.  Jay could go on with his life, enjoying in innocence all the things most high school seniors looked forward to: Prom, Graduation, going away to school.  She looked over at the tall, thin boy, restraining her impulse to run a hand over his unruly hair.  Kid was a neat freak about everything except remembering to get a hair cut.

Don't let it get personal
, she reminded herself.  She patted Jay's jacket, ensuring that the phone she'd given him was there.  

"Buzz me when you're ready," she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.  

"Hey, KC, why don't you stay?" Neil said.  "There's plenty of food and stuff."  

He spread his hands to indicate the well-stocked kitchen.  The room was larger than the entire downstairs of the Cape Cod KC lived in next door.  Although she knew servants lurked nearby, awaiting any command, the large house felt empty, devoid of life.

Except for the two teens before her.  She gave Neil a genuine smile.  The kid was one of those people who wanted nothing more than to please everyone who mattered in his life.  KC had the feeling that, growing up attended mainly by servants with an often absent dad, Neil was starved for affection.  No wonder he followed Jay around like a lost puppy.

It was going to break Neil's heart when Jay disappeared and KC sent Bruno Gianotti to prison.  

CHAPTER 4

KC banged open the kitchen door to her house. A grey-haired man appeared, shaking his head at her appearance, then shrugging, a parent surrendering the battle as far as anyone watching from outside could see.  He moved back into the kitchen, and she followed.

"What's up, Pop?" she asked, grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the counter.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" 

KC shrugged, crammed the pizza into her mouth, snatched a second slice and headed downstairs to the family room.  

"Don't you walk away from me, young lady," he said, dogging her steps, closing the sound-proofed basement door behind him.  

As soon as he shut it he sagged against it, his demeanor transformed as he tried hard not to laugh.  "Oh yeah, the police called.  Something about you were out stealing condoms from Old Man Sinderson?"

Glenn Michaels wasn't as old as he looked, especially not when his smile met his eyes, like now.  KC galloped down the steps. Glenn followed. 

"Why?  You need some?" she threw over her shoulder.

"Woo-hoo, KC, dig the belt," a second man sitting in front of a massive computer console, one ear covered by a headset, said.  Carson was a ginger-haired man with a full beard that defied Bureau guidelines.  A fact he could care less about, which made him perfect for her operation.  "Those regulation?"

KC glanced back at the handcuffs dangling behind her.  "No.  Came with the belt. They're like tin or something, but they came in handy, drove the guards at school nuts every time I went through the metal detector."  She shrugged, jangling the chains and rings adorning her leather jacket.  "After the first few times, they gave up and just let me through."

A lot of thought had gone into deciding on the perfect persona to gain her instant notoriety in a town like Coalton.  No one here would forget "bad girl" KC who had stolen away with Jay Westin.  If she did her job right, few would think twice about Jay's sudden disappearance, chalking it up to a teenager's hormones run amok.  

She walked across the expansive room, ignoring the shelves stacked with video and audio monitoring equipment, the weapons rack, and the large scale map of Coalton and the surrounding area.  The basement was the only place in the house clean of Gianotti's bugs.

"Good to see you, Carson.  Glad you could make it."  She held the slice of pizza up to the FBI communications expert so that he could share a bite while his hands fine-tuned the feed from the omnidirectional microphone planted in Jay's phone.

"Wouldn't miss your grand finale, especially on a hush-hush like this one.  I mean, come on, smuggling me in here in the trunk of Glenn's car?  What gives, how's come no ATF or backup?"

Glenn joined them, looked to KC as if he also waited for an answer.  KC swallowed her pizza.  Glenn Michaels was only in his early forties, but his premature greyness came in handy on operations like this one.  Although both men had seniority over her, neither had questioned her leadership until now, when their lives were going to be placed on the line in less than twenty-four hours.  

She turned away to shrug free of her jacket, the burden of exactly what she had taken on weighing her down.  Rubbing her palms over her bare arms, she felt herself breaking out in a sweat and blamed it on the proximity to the furnace instead of nerves.

"Too many leaks out of Justice," KC told them.  "After what happened to Manny, I'm not taking any chances."

Both men nodded solemnly.  KC had been on Manny Ramirez's team working an identity theft ring, building a case against the odd assortment of disgruntled white-collar workers, computer geeks, and street hypes banded together with two things in common: a love of money and the methamphetamine it could buy them.  

KC still blamed herself for letting Manny go alone to the meet.  She'd had a bad feeling.  But he was her boss, it was his operation, and she'd trusted him when he had said everything was kosher.  He had insisted she stay out of sight in the alley across the street.

Close enough to see the van drive by, the gun aimed out the door, Manny falling to his knees.  Too far away to do a damned thing to save his life.  

After a moment of silence, Glenn changed the subject.  "We still have nothing on the buyer."

"Hells bells, I need to know what we're getting into here.  The buy is tomorrow.  Neil confirmed it for me."  KC didn't have to look to know Carson was rolling his eyes at her.  She knew her reputation as a control freak, planning for every contingency in her operations.  It was the only way she could ensure everyone went home alive.  

Her operations never went south.  Trust no one, assume nothing—that was what she'd learned from Manny.  Too bad he hadn't listened to his own advice.

"After you left Gianotti's," Carson said, indicating the recorder, "Neil told Jay his father was taking him into the business, that he had a big surprise for him on Christmas.  Is he talking about our meet?"

"Damn it, we don't need another kid to watch over," Glenn complained.

Amen to that
.  Watching over Jay Westin, using him to get close to the Gianotti family had been a tightrope act KC had no desire to repeat.  

Not to mention the several weeks of high school she had to endure to maintain her cover.  Senior year was bad enough the first time around, back home in Buffalo.  If it wasn't for her grandfather, she doubted she would've made it through.  Now that she had the objectivity of a college education and three years with the Bureau under her belt, KC wondered how any kid survived to graduation.  Compared to the emotional obstacle course she'd endured at Coalton High, the rigors of Quantico's Hogan's Alley urban combat training seemed as challenging as a game of hopscotch.

"Once we get Jay out and under, I'll press Neil for more details," KC said.  "We need to know this buyer."