“So you’re in charge of her. Why you, Neil? This isn’t exactly your area.”
“Because I’m the one she came to when she finally decided to turn herself in.”
“Turned herself— Wait a minute, just how long ago did this cop killing take place?”
“Couple of months. She’s been on the run since then, too scared to do anything but hide.”
It occurred to Mitch that there was something decidedly wrong about this situation, a whole lot that didn’t make sense. It also occurred to him that the uncomfortable feeling he’d been experiencing over his friend’s visit was probably not just his imagination.
“Talk to me, Neil. Tell me exactly what this is all about. Like, for instance, why she happened to want you.”
Neil’s heavy shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I guess I’m the one she trusted. I guess because she thought I treated her fairly when I questioned her during another investigation last summer.”
Mitch stared at him, his suspicion growing stronger by the moment. “You weren’t with the Milwaukee department last summer. You were still on the San Francisco force.”
“That’s right.”
It was more than just discomfort Mitch was feeling now. It was something raw and wrenching deep inside him. “You didn’t phone me before you came out here,” he said, his voice accusing. “Why is that, Neil? Because you knew I’d hang up on you after you told me what you wanted?”
Neil, looking decidedly awkward now, gazed at him silently.
“Who is she, Neil?” Mitch demanded. “Who is it you’ve got out there in that car?”
And that was when Neil dropped his bombshell, the one Mitch had been expecting.
“Madeline Raeburn,” he said quietly.
Hearing the name was worse than anticipating it—a pain that tore at Mitch’s gut. He fought for self-control, strove to keep his voice level. “Take your witness and get out of here. Now, before I forget you’re supposed to be my friend.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, and you’re going to listen to me.”
“And what am I going to hear, Neil? You telling me that I’ve got Madeline Raeburn all wrong? That she’s a decent, caring woman who is in no way to blame for Julie ending up in San Francisco Bay?”
“I don’t know what she is or isn’t. All I know is that she’s scared. She’d gotten as far away from San Francisco as her money could take her and was lying low somewhere in Indiana when she saw me on a newscast involving that Milwaukee Brewers case and learned I was in Milwaukee. That’s when she found the guts to come to me and agree to testify against Griff Matisse.”
Matisse. Another name that had Mitch’s insides tightening in rage. “Matisse is your cop killer?”
Neil nodded. “Back in San Francisco.”
“Then, what is Milwaukee doing protecting her? Why isn’t one of those close friends of yours from the Frisco force taking charge of her? You always said they’re the best.”
“The DA’s office in San Francisco is going to send an escort for her. They’re just waiting until they can get a secure safe house set up for her out there—one that Matisse can’t penetrate this time. You know how delayed everything gets around the holiday. Meanwhile, they think she’s better off in this area.”
“Even with a dirty cop on your force passing information to Matisse’s connections here?” This just didn’t make sense to Mitch. “You sure?”
“That’s the decision.”
Mitch shook his head, still puzzled. “It’s a bad decision. And I’ll tell you one that’s even worse—you wanting to stash her out here with me.”
“Just for a few days,” Neil pleaded. “Just until after Christmas. By then, we’ll either have plugged our leak here, or the safe house will be ready for her in California. Look, I’d keep her myself, but my house is no secret.”
“And mine isn’t vulnerable like that, huh? Besides, I should want to do it, now that I know Madeline Raeburn has found both a conscience and courage. Except,” he added cynically, “I’ve got to wonder whether that’s why she came to you or whether she finally realized she isn’t safe anywhere and needed police protection to save her own neck.”
“Maybe she sees it as risking her neck.”
“Yeah? Then, if she’s so good, why did she wait until now to talk? Why didn’t she open up to you when Julie was murdered?”
Neil gazed at him, his face solemn. “When did you become so bitter, Mitch?”
Mitch squirmed under the sorrowful expression in his friend’s eyes. He knew that Neil was right. He had become bitter since Julie’s death. It was something he needed to lose, but he also knew that could never happen with Madeline Raeburn in his house.
“I’d like to help you out, Neil, but I can’t do it. The answer is no.”
His friend didn’t say anything. He just went on gazing at him, while Mitch stood there, trying to look casual about his emphatic refusal. And then Neil delivered his final shot, the one he must have been saving for this exact moment.
“That’s too bad, Mitch,” he said quietly. “Because if Matisse was responsible for Julie’s death last summer, and we don’t keep Madeline Raeburn alive to testify against him, then he ends up not paying for any of it. You want to see him just walk away again?”
It was an argument for which Mitch had no defense, and his friend knew that. He stared at Neil in an explosive frustration that finally released itself when he snatched up the business card from the table, crushing it angrily in his fist.
Neil, understanding the surrender that anger signified, nodded slowly. “You coming out to the car with me, or do you want to wait here while I bring her in?”
Mitch answered by striding across the room and snagging his leather jacket from a hook on the wall. “She know who I am?” he asked, shrugging into the coat.
“You mean that you’re Julie’s ‘Mickey’? You don’t think she would have agreed to come out here if she did, do you? And let’s keep it that way, please. I don’t want to risk her going on the run again. She’s already nervous enough after last night.”
Mitch nodded as he zipped up the jacket. He remembered how Neil, after questioning Madeline Raeburn last summer, had told him that Julie apparently had never referred to him at the Phoenix by anything other than her playful nickname for him. Their private joke. Mitch also remembered how Neil, with just short of physical force, had managed to keep him from going to Matisse and Madeline Raeburn. Mad with grief, he’d wanted to tear both of them apart. He realized as he joined Neil by the door that that memory was still painful.
“And, Mitch?”
“Yeah?”
“Anything
