Killer Headline Page 8

  Clay didn’t know if that was a compliment or a challenge. No matter how assured he tried to be on the outside, inside he knew the truth. He didn’t deserve Violet. After everything that had happened in his life, he didn’t deserve anyone.

  As Bernice prepared her breakfast, Clay grabbed his jacket from the closet and, after saying goodbye, headed for his car. Violet ran out from her house when he pulled to the curb.

  “Did you lock your doors?” he asked as she slipped into the passenger seat.

  “Of course. Plus, I rechecked the windows and left the drapes drawn.”

  Maybe Violet had finally realized she needed to be careful.

  But what about him? He needed to be careful, as well. He stole a glance at her. She seemed oblivious to his perusal. The winter sun bathed her in light that made her eyes sparkle and her lips shine.

  Keeping Violet safe from the mob was his number-one problem. His growing attraction for her was a close second.

  Violet and Clay grabbed coffee and bagels at an airport kiosk, and ate breakfast before boarding.

  Mechanical problems delayed takeoff, and once airborne, the flight was bumpy due to turbulence. Luckily, the landing was smooth and, after disembarking, they followed the signs to car rental and were soon heading to Mama’s Diner.

  Road construction slowed their progress, but they eventually found a parking spot in front of the diner and hurried inside. The early lunch crowd was already filling the small establishment.

  Violet stood next to Clay as they waited for a table and scanned the folks already seated.

  “Do you see anyone resembling the woman in the photo?”

  “No, but I don’t like the clientele,” he said.

  She followed his gaze to a guy sitting in the corner, wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Violet hadn’t noticed him earlier.

  “Check out the last booth on the right,” Clay said under his breath.

  She turned ever so slightly. Another man. This one wore a couple-days growth of beard and a black beanie pulled low over his forehead.

  Standing close to Clay, she had no sense of fear, yet she was beginning to understand how a cop’s mind worked. Clay was always looking for trouble, second-guessing who might be involved with the mob. Maybe she needed to readjust her attitude and be a bit more cautious, although with Clay to protect her, she hardly needed to worry.

  A friendly waitress showed them to a booth by the window. “The lunch special’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Green beans or corn on the side.”

  Violet opted for a house salad and a cup of vegetable soup. Clay ordered a burger and fries. A layer of clouds hung low over the city. A storm was forecast to roll into Missoula in the next couple of days. All signs pointed to Billings being hit sooner.

  When the waitress left to get coffee for both of them, Violet leaned toward Clay. “How do you want to handle this? Good cop, bad cop?”

  He smiled. “How ’bout, good cop and reporter? Remember, we’re a team.”

  “Got it.”

  The waitress quickly returned with two mugs of steaming coffee.

  “We’re looking for a woman who may work around here.” Violet held up the photo she’d printed off her computer.

  “Her name’s Jen Davis. Do you know her or recognize her picture?”

  “No, but I’ll ask the other gals. Maybe one of them can help you.” She took the photo and showed it to the other waitresses working the floor.

  A short time later, she returned to the table with their lunch order and the photo. “No one knows your friend. From the white uniform she’s wearing, I take it she’s a nurse. There’s a hospital close by. Have you thought about stopping there?” “That’s where we plan to go next,” Violet said.

  “We change shifts at two. You might want to come back and talk to the waitresses on duty then.”

  As much as she wanted to find Jen Davis, Violet was starting to realize the trip to Billings might not prove successful after all, and that worried her.

  Clay remained in cop mode, flicking his gaze from the man in the hoodie to the guy wearing the beanie. Once both men had finished eating, paid their checks and left the diner, Clay relaxed.

  The cop took his job seriously and Violet appreciated his support. Working as a team wasn’t so bad after all. Then she thought of the story she needed to publish that would expose the mob’s move into Montana.

  Ruby Maxwell, Carlie Donald and now Jen Davis.

  No matter what Clay said, women in Witness Protection needed to be warned.

  When the waitress brought the check, Violet excused herself to use the ladies’ room. On the way back to the table, she stopped to study a bulletin board decorated with photos taken inside the diner. Many of the waitresses working today were featured in the collage.

  One woman’s profile caught Violet’s eye. She leaned closer to examine the picture.

  Violet had kept in touch with a few reporters on the Chicago Gazette. One of them had sent her a photograph of Olivia Jensen, the woman who had witnessed Vincent Martino kill a man in cold blood. Olivia was being held in protective custody until the trial this spring.

  Last night, Violet had mentally compared the photo of Kristin Perry with Clay’s friend, Eloise. The two women had a similar appearance as if related, but the woman in the bulletin-board photo today looked identical to the photo of Olivia.

  Violet called over one of the waitresses she’d talked to earlier. “Do you know how I could get in touch with the woman in this photo?”

  “Olivia Jarrod?” The waitress shook her head. “I heard she left town. The manager tried to find her, but couldn’t.”

  Olivia Jarrod had to be Olivia Jensen, the woman whose testimony could send Vincent Martino to jail. No wonder the mob was interested in the diner. Maybe the trip hadn’t been a waste of time after all.

  Violet headed back to Clay. He stood as she neared the table. Better to keep the information about Olivia to herself. As much as she liked Clay, he was law enforcement.

  Bottom line, she didn’t trust cops.

  Clay took Violet’s hand as they left the diner and headed for the rental car. They spent the next few hours checking the hospital, nursing homes and doctors’ offices in the area. No one named Jen Davis or who looked like her picture was employed at any of the health-care facilities.

  Tired and frustrated, they returned to the diner shortly after two. The crowd had dwindled, and only a handful of customers sat at tables. They ordered coffee to go and asked the same questions they had earlier with the same results.

  This time when they left the diner, Violet was visibly discouraged. As Clay opened the passenger door for her, he caught sight of a man standing across the street, wearing a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. Was he the same guy they’d seen eating earlier?

  “Sir?” Someone called. He turned. One of the waitresses hurried toward them.

  “I’ve been thinking about that picture you showed me,” she said, nearing the car. “There’s a woman who stops in for lunch occasionally. Her hairstyle’s different, but she could be the gal you need to find. She was friends with one of the waitresses, only she hasn’t been at work for a few days. Someone said they think Olivia left town.”

  Clay pursed his lips. “Olivia?” Not the most common of names.

  “Yeah, Olivia Jarrod. But she’s moved on. A couple weeks ago, I saw the woman you’re looking for walking along the main road and offered her a lift.”

  “Do you remember where you dropped her?” Violet asked.

  “An apartment not far from here.” The waitress provided the address. Clay thanked her. When he looked back across the street, the man in the hooded sweatshirt had disappeared. Clay pulled in a deep breath. Could the guy who broke into Violet’s home have followed them to Billings? Or was Clay becoming too paranoid?

  He needed to follow his gut, which was telling him to be on guard. The mob didn’t play by any rules. They’d kill an innocent woman without blinking an eye.

  He
slipped behind the wheel and drove to the address the waitress had provided.

  “I hope she’s here,” Violet said as they walked into the building and knocked on a door marked Manager.

  An older woman, gray hair in a bun, stuck her head out. “You looking for a furnished place to rent?”

  “No, ma’am.” Violet held out Jen’s photo. “We’re looking for this woman. Someone told us she lived here.”

  “That’s right.” The manager nodded. “Hannah Williams lived here, but she moved out a few days ago. She paid her rent with cash and didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

  “Did Hannah have any friends or other neighbors who might know how to find her?” Clay asked.

  “She stayed to herself. I never saw anyone visit.”

  Clay shared Violet’s frustration as they climbed back into the car.

  His neck tingled. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Nothing.

  Turning, he studied the apartments across the street. A man peered at them from around the far corner of the building.

  He wore a dark sweatshirt and a beanie.

  “Stay here, Violet. Lock the doors.”

  Clay raced across the street in pursuit of the guy who took off running.

  Rounding the rear of the building, Clay stopped short. He’d lost the guy again.

  Letting out a frustrated groan, Clay backtracked. As he approached the car, his gut tightened.

  Violet’s hand clutched her neck, her eyes wide, face blanched.

  “What happened?” he demanded as he opened the door.

  She stumbled into his arms. “A…a car rounded the corner and headed right for me. I—” She tried to catch her breath. “I thought he was going to hit your car. He swerved in the nick of time.”

  “Did you see the driver?”

  She shook her head. “It happened too fast.”

  Clay wrapped Violet in his arms feeling her heart pound in her chest. He glanced at the apartments on both sides of the road. The curtains were drawn. No one appeared to have seen the incident.

  “Come on, honey, we’re going to the Marshals office. We’ll talk to Micah McGraw. He needs to know what happened.”

  She shook her head, gathering control. “Probably just some kids driving too fast.”

  Clay held the door as she climbed into the passenger seat. One thing bothered him about Violet. She had closed her mind to the real danger that surrounded her. Clay hadn’t been imagining the men in the restaurant or on the street. Violet’s informant knew about Mama’s Diner, and she got her information from the mob. Their men were lying in wait for Jen Davis. Now they knew the inquisitive reporter from Missoula was interested in her whereabouts, as well. As worried as he’d been in Missoula, Clay was even more worried about Violet’s safety in Billings.

  When they arrived at the Marshals headquarters, they learned Micah was out of town on business. Mac Sellers, an older guy who walked with a limp, assured Clay he’d be happy to pass on any information they had to Micah.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Violet said to Sellers as she nudged Clay toward the door. “We’ll contact Agent McGraw later in the week. Thanks for your help.”

  Once outside, Clay turned to her. “Why didn’t you want to talk to the agent on duty?”

  “You don’t know him, Clay. Neither do I. Call it woman’s intuition, but I didn’t want to share information about Jen with a stranger.”

  Violet’s concern for the woman’s safety touched Clay’s heart. She had spunk and determination, which he admired. Clay felt sure Jackson could arrange a meeting with Micah someplace other than in Billings. He never wanted Violet back in this town again. At least not until the Martino family was in jail.

  Clay had seen Faith Church earlier on their way to the diner. Now he pulled to the curb in front of the office attached to the sacristy.

  “Come inside with me, Violet. I need to talk to someone.”

  Surprised when she didn’t ask any questions, he escorted her into a lobby.

  “I’ll wait for you here,” she said, settling into a chair outside the main office. She reached for a Bible on the side table and opened the scriptures.

  He spoke to the receptionist who escorted him into the pastor’s office.

  Reverend Taylor was a big man with a warm smile. Clay quickly explained he was concerned about Kristin Perry’s safety. The pastor admitted he’d been praying for her since learning about her parents’ tragic deaths, but he hadn’t seen her.

  “She’s searching for her birth mother,” Clay explained. “A woman I knew years ago. Without going into information that needs to be kept confidential, I’m worried Kristin might be in danger if she continues making inquiries about her mother. If she does contact you, would you encourage her to rely on law enforcement? The U.S. Marshals office here in Billings could help her or she could contact me.” Clay gave his card to the reverend. “She can call me on my cell anytime.”

  “Sounds like you’re a caring man, Clay. If Kristin contacts me, I’ll do as you asked. Until then, I’ll continue to pray for her and for you. May the Lord bless you and keep you safe.”

  Clay left the office, feeling a new sense of peace. Violet smiled as he approached her.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded and stood. Taking his outstretched hand, she said, “Eloise must have been a special woman, and you’re a great guy to be concerned about the daughter.”

  Violet seemed to be able to read his mind. As intuitive as she was, he wished she were more aware of his concern for her safety.

  He felt a sense of relief when they boarded the plane.

  Violet fell asleep shortly after takeoff, resting her head on his shoulder. Careful not to wake her, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her close.

  Clay couldn’t take his eyes off her throughout the flight. Teaming up with Violet had been a good decision. She was starting to trust him, and he felt the same about her. In fact, he was feeling a lot of things right now, especially a desire to stay in Missoula and get to know the sleepyhead reporter even better.

  Her eyes blinked open when the plane touched down.

  “Morning,” he whispered.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have dozed off.”

  “Not a problem.” Truth was he’d liked holding her in his arms. She straightened, and he instantly regretted the flight had come to an end.

  Clay drove her home and pulled to a stop in front of her house. He glanced at Bernice’s home. She’d left the front-porch light on for him.

  “Looks like she’s asleep,” Violet said, following his gaze. “I’ll be fine tonight. Let Bernice sleep, and you do the same.”

  “Bernice did look tired this morning. But you have to promise to call if you suspect anything is amiss.”

  “Promise.”

  He crawled out of the car and rounded the front to open the passenger door. He’d let Violet think she was on her own, but he’d remain vigilant throughout the night. He wouldn’t give the mob an opportunity to strike.

  Taking her hand, they walked to the porch.

  “Thanks for letting me help today,” he said once they were at her door. “In my opinion, we make a good team.”

  Violet nodded, her eyes on his. “It was nice working together for a change,” she admitted.

  “Trust me, okay? We’re on the same page.”

  Clay took her keys, opened her door and quickly searched inside.

  “Call me if you need anything,” he said after returning to the porch. They were standing close and neither made an effort to step apart.

  Violet stared up at him with her twinkling eyes, a bit puffy from her nap on board the plane. Her lips parted as if she were going to say something.

  Clay’s heart pounded in his chest. Violet looked so soft and inviting that he couldn’t help himself. He touched her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were warm and sweet.

  When he finally pulled back, she sighed and, without saying a word, stepped inside, closing the
door behind her.

  Clay stood on the porch long enough for the world to stop spinning. Then he crossed the street and walked to Bernice’s house.

  Kissing Violet was the best thing he’d done in a very long time. In fact, he wanted to make a habit of kissing her on a regular basis. But when he thought of the limited time he’d be staying in Missoula, his mood sobered. As much as he liked being with Violet, she wasn’t interested in him other than for the help he could provide.

  Clay was a cop first. He needed to act like one.

  EIGHT

  Violet had trouble keeping her mind on her work the next day. She kept thinking about Clay’s kiss. Stu had assigned her a number of fillers to write that required tracking down bits of information and kept her occupied throughout the morning. The editorial update meeting after lunch had gone longer than normal, and she was eager to get back to her computer and check her Web site and e-mail.

  Hurrying back to her desk, Violet took a shortcut by the elevators. Rounding the partition, she found Clay sitting in her swivel chair, fiddling with the computer she’d turned off before she went to the update.

  Her heart did a double take when he looked up and grinned. “I wondered when you’d get back to work.”

  She ignored the way her lips tingled where he’d kissed her and tried to act nonchalant as she glanced at the monitor. “Sudoku?”

  “Addicting, isn’t it?”

  She reached around his broad shoulders and closed the page. “How’d you get my password?”

  His face only inches from her own, she smelled his aftershave, a woodsy scent that made her knees weak. Needing support, she braced against the edge of her desk, noting the tiny scar on his chin and the dimple in his right cheek when he grinned, which was what he was doing right now.

  Grinning and moving closer. Déjà vu of last night. His aftershave alone was enough to crash her mainframe. And she wasn’t talking about her computer.

  “You haven’t answered me.” She pulled back, giving herself space and air. She couldn’t think straight when he was close to her. “How’d you log on?”

  “Your computer was up and running, Violet.”