Killer Headline (6 page)

Her heart skidded to a stop.

“Thanks for making my day a little brighter.”

Violet sighed. The man had a way with words.

Then he turned on his heels and walked down the steps. Violet watched him hurry across the street, feeling a longing grow deep within her.

How could she sleep knowing he was on guard? The longer she was around Clay the more confused she became. As much as she wanted to stand on her own two feet, she let down her guard whenever he was near.

She needed to be careful. Yes, the mob posed a threat, but the way her body reacted whenever she was with Clay caused her more concern at the moment. Despite his good looks and rugged individualism, she needed to remember the bottom line.

She didn’t trust cops.

C
lay had acted like a love-struck teenager, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend as he walked her home. Fact was he’d wanted to kiss Violet. The thought tingled through his gut as he opened Bernice’s front door and stepped inside the house. He would have liked to kiss Violet about a million times to see if that sensation ever subsided. Clay doubted it would.

Hanging his jacket in the closet, he noticed the fresh floral scent of Violet’s perfume that clung to his shirt. He sniffed the sleeve that had wrapped around her on the couch then chuckled at his own reaction.

Get a grip, old boy.

Old? Thirty-five was hardly over the hill. But Violet had to be ten years younger. To him, the difference seemed insignificant. Age wasn’t the problem.

He poured a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would snap him back to reality. He needed to talk to Jackson, but he didn’t want the FBI agent to hear anything in his voice except a law officer’s focus on his job.

Taking a long swig of the coffee, he pulled out his cell and tapped in Jackson’s number.

“I spoke with Violet Kramer,” Clay said when the
agent answered. “She’s got friends who don’t seem to have a problem feeding her information.”

“Not surprising for a reporter.”

“Violet mentioned an informant.”

“The woman at the coffee shop?”

“I’m not sure, but the informant has some connection with the Martino family.”

“Did you get a name?”

“No. Although we might be able to work out a deal if Violet can talk to someone in the U.S. Marshals office in Billings. She wants to get the informant into Witness Protection. I was hoping Micah would be available to meet with us.”

“Any chance she’ll share more information if we can promise protection for her snitch?”

“That’s what I’m hoping. I’m also hoping she’ll listen to Micah. My warnings haven’t penetrated her stubbornness yet.”

“I’ll see what we can arrange,” Jackson said.

“Violet mentioned Eloise.”

“In what context?”

“Who the Mafia might be looking for.”

“Did she get that from her source or come up with it on her own?”

“I have a feeling it was from the source. We know Salvatore wants Eloise to pay for sending him to jail.”

Jackson grumbled. “What you did to Cameron Trimble is what I’d like to do to Salvatore. Only I wouldn’t want any cops around to pull me off the guy.”

“I hear you.”

“How many lives have been ruined because of him? How many people killed or living on the run?” Jackson
pulled air into his lungs. “Listen, you’re doing a good job with this reporter. I’ll talk to Micah and get back to you.”

Clay hung up and poured another cup of coffee. He’d keep watch over Violet’s house to ensure the intruder or his buddies didn’t return tonight. The way his heart was racing, Clay couldn’t sleep. If he did nod off, he’d probably meet Violet in his dreams.

Still affected by her earlier encounter with Clay, Violet put water on the stove to boil, hoping a cup of chamomile tea would calm her fluttering heart. While the water heated, she opened her cell phone and looked at the last incoming number. Though the hang-up call had come from a Chicago area code, if it was from a cell phone, the caller could be anywhere. Even Missoula.

The kettle boiled. Violet poured water over the tea bag, inhaled the fresh herbal scent and, cup in hand, headed for her computer.

She had work to do. Somehow, she needed to shove Clay and the hang-up call into the think-about-later portion of her brain. Slipping her flash drive into the USB port, she pulled up the photo she’d taken on her cell phone earlier today.

The photo captured the woman’s face as she’d glanced back at Violet. Or was she looking at something else?

Something or someone?

Minimizing the photo, Violet checked her e-mail and felt a surge of euphoria when a brief message from Gwyn flashed on the screen.

Are you online?

No reason to make small talk. Violet typed the question that had been bothering her all night.

Why’d you run away?

Someone was following you, came the reply.

Not the answer Violet had expected. She continued to read Gwyn’s answer.

He looked familiar. Like a guy I’d seen in Chicago. Something about his build.

Could she have run into Clay when he was working undercover? Violet quickly typed:

Was it the undercover cop? The one who beat up Cameron Trimble?

Gwyn answered:

I don’t know the cop. What’s he look like? The guy I saw was muscular. He wore a hat so I’m not sure about his hair color.

Violet hit the reply button.

The undercover cop is—

What could she say about Clay? Tall, muscular with eyes that sent shivers scurrying along her spine?

Violet deleted the description and asked:

Are you sure someone was following me?

Gwyn: Definitely.

Violet: Meet tomorrow?

Gwyn: Can’t.

Violet: When?

Gwyn didn’t respond.

Violet’s home phone rang. She glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. The number failed to appear on caller ID. Easy enough to block the information. “Kramer.”

Silence.

Violet glanced around her living room, glad she’d pulled the drapes. “Hello?”

The sound of breathing caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. The caller inhaled. Exhaled. Slowly. Deliberately.

“Back off,” a male voice whispered. The same message as on the note Clay had found.

Violet’s stomach tightened. “Who is this?”

Another inhale.

She disconnected.

Violet picked up her cell and retried the number from the call she’d received at Bernice’s house, as well as the number her informant had used night before last. Both failed to go through.

She needed to contact Gwyn, but the informant had refused to share her cell-phone number for fear Angelo would discover what was going on behind his back. In fact, Gwyn had made Violet promise never to reveal where she got her information to anyone.

Violet had kept that promise even when the
Gazette
editor had waved a permanent job in front of her face like a carrot. She’d lost the full-time position on the prestigious Chicago paper, but she’d been true to her word and never gave up her source.

Once again, the shrill ring of her landline echoed in the stillness of the house. Violet swallowed down the anxiety that swelled within her. Silly for a phone call to illicit such a response. Pulling in a determined breath, she reached for the receiver.

Inhale. Exhale.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Stay away from the mob.”

Her cell rang. She glanced at the incoming number, noting a different Chicago area code, and flipped the phone open.

“Violet?” Clay’s voice, concerned, urgent. “Your living room light is still on. Everything okay?”

“Someone called. He mentioned the mob.”

“I’m coming over.”

Before she could respond, her home phone rang again. She reached for the receiver and raised it to her ear. Silence. Then the rhythmic pull of air.

“Violet, let me in.” Clay pounded on the front door.

He must have sprinted to get here so quickly. Relief swept over her as she threw open the door. Clay stood on the porch in his shirtsleeves, face flushed, windblown hair, looking like he’d kill anyone who hurt her.

Stepping inside, he grabbed the phone and spoke into the mouthpiece. “This is the police. I’m tracing your call, and I will find you.”

He dropped the phone back to its cradle. “The creep hung up. What did he say to you?”

“To stay away from the mob.”

Clay pursed his lips and nodded. “It’s probably the same guy who broke into your home. Did you recognize anything about his voice?”

She tried to remember the cadence of his speech and any inflection that might have been familiar. Finally, she shook her head. “He spoke so quickly. Before I could process what he said, he’d hung up.”

“I’ll let Officer O’Reilly know what happened. Although I doubt he’d place a trace on your phone, unless the guy calls back again.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want the police coming over tonight. It’s late.” She pointed to her computer. “I’ve still got work to do.”

“Then I’m staying,” he insisted.

“Clay, please.”

His gaze shifted to the front door. “You need dead bolts, Violet. There’s an all-night discount store not far from here. I’ll pick a couple up and install them tonight.”

She held up her hand in protest. “Absolutely not. It’s too late. I’ll get the locks tomorrow. Maybe you could install them after work?”

“Yeah, sure. But I don’t want you staying here alone. Grab your laptop and come over to Bernice’s house. She’s got a third bedroom that’s not being used.”

As inviting as the offer sounded, Violet needed to stay put. “I won’t let a call frighten me out of my own home. The guy’s a coward or he wouldn’t have used the phone to warn me.”

Clay’s face twisted with disbelief. “He was standing in your kitchen last night, Violet.”

“You can’t be sure it was the same man.”

Clay let out an exasperated sigh and raked his fingers through his short hair. “Is your Aunt Lettie as bullheaded as you?”

She bristled. “Was. Past tense. She died when I was a child.”

His face softened. “I’m sorry about your aunt, Violet. But you need to accept the fact that the mob knows what you’re doing. They’ve got someone watching you in Missoula. That person has warned you twice to back off. The next time might be more than a warning.”

Of course, she knew he was right. She could no longer pretend the break-in and phone calls weren’t connected, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop her search for the truth. Women were being targeted. She needed to find out as much information as she could about the mob’s activity in Montana. A news article exposing their murderous tactics would warn others who might be in danger.

“You’ll be right across the street, Clay. I’ll keep my cell on and call you if anything happens.” She gave him a ragged smile. “Having a cop living in the neighborhood has its advantages.”

The corners of his lips curled into a grin that rocked her to the core. Had to be 8.5 on the Richter scale. Why was he affecting her so much? Probably the late hour.

He stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need me.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“See you tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, sure.” She locked the door behind him, feeling a letdown. As much as she’d wanted him to stay, the hour was late and she did have work to do. Clay would have been a distraction.

With a heavy sigh, Violet turned back to her computer and hit the refresh button. A new message appeared from Gwyn.

I planned to talk to you at the coffee shop about another woman in Witness Protection. Angelo got information before I left Chicago. I’ve attached the photo he received. Her name’s Jen Davis. The mob’s after her. She’s next on their list. Mama’s Diner in Billings plays into it somehow.

Violet opened the attachment and stared at the photo. The woman was pretty with a sweet smile and long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She wore what appeared to be a white nurse’s uniform and stared back at Violet with green expressive eyes. Printing off a color copy, Violet shook her head as the ink dried.

She scribbled Ruby and Carlie’s names on a piece of scrap paper. Underneath, she wrote Jen Davis followed by a question mark. Jen Davis was in the crosshairs of the mob. She needed to be warned.

Violet searched the white pages online. No Jen, Jenny or Jennifer Davis was listed in Billings, which meant she probably used a cell phone.

Plugging Mama’s Diner into a map search, Violet found a hospital, nursing home and six doctors’ offices located within a few blocks of the restaurant.

Although the hour was late, she requested the diner’s phone number from directory assistance. Tapping the digits into her cell, she heard a recorded message. “Mama’s Diner is closed for the night. Call back when we’re open for business—7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.”

The mobsters had mentioned Mama’s Diner, so the place had to have significance. Maybe Jen worked there. Maybe she was a frequent customer. Surely someone would know her or recognize her name.

Unless she used an alias.

A woman’s life was in danger, and Violet was stuck in Missoula. On a whim, she checked the airlines. The distance from Missoula to Billings was over 350 miles. Too far to drive there and back in one day, but a flight left at 8:00 a.m. and returned at 4:00 p.m.

Before she had time to change her mind, Violet purchased a round-trip ticket to Billings then printed off the boarding pass and electronic ticket. She sent an e-mail to Stu saying she planned to work from home tomorrow, which he’d get when he arrived at the paper in the morning.

A noise outside pulled her attention from the laptop. Her heart thumped a warning. She reached for her cell, ready to call Clay when a knock sounded at her front door.

“Honey, it’s Bernice.”

Violet opened the door, surprised to find her neighbor wrapped in a thick flannel robe, hair disheveled and clutching her pillow.

The older woman threw her thumb over her shoulder. “I got up for a drink of water and found Clay hunkered down on the front porch. The man insists he needs to keep watch over your house. I told him it made more sense if we both spent the night at your place.”

Violet looked around her neighbor to where Clay stood on the sidewalk. He smiled like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Bernice stepped past Violet and headed for the back hallway. “I’ve got the guest room. Clay said he’d sleep on the couch. See you two in the morning.”

Clay stretched out his hands and shrugged as he
climbed the steps to the porch. “I told Bernice I was fine, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Any chance she’s related to your Aunt Lettie?”

Violet had to smile. “No, but she’s equally determined. Come in where it’s warm. Surely you didn’t plan to keep watch all night?”