“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked her.
“No. I thought I’d dazzle you by making the journey all by myself. Want to watch me?”
“Sure. Make it entertaining for me?”
“Sure thing,” she chirped, and she quickly pecked his lips before pushing out of the van.
At the edge of the sidewalk, Jessie raised her arms to an imaginary partner and gave him a comical glance before she waltzed up the middle of the driveway toward her apartment door. Danny’s laughter followed her, and he watched closely until he felt certain she was tucked safely inside.
Two very round headlights appeared at the corner a short time later, and the sedan-shaped car moved slowly up the street toward him. When it passed the apartment building without altering speed, Danny leaned down and watched the car’s retreat in his side mirror before dialing Rafe on his cell.
“Hey, Detective,” he said when Padillo answered, the familiar hum of the precinct behind him.
“Hey, Callahan, where you at?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“What’s up?”
“Jessie Stanton’s husband—I mean, Jessie Hart’s husband—is back in town,” Danny advised. “Anything you can do to help us hurry along a restraining order?”
“I thought he was living high in Costa Rica.”
“Bali. It’s a long story, but he’s back in the States, modeling some ankle armor courtesy of Uncle Sam.”
“But you’re still worried he’ll try to make contact?” Rafe asked.
“He already has. Walked right into a public restaurant and tried to have a chat with her. Fortunately, we were able to dissuade him, but only for the time being. Can you help lead the way toward an order of protection?”
“Text me his details and I’ll make a call. Hang in there, and I’ll try to get back to you tonight.”
“Good deal. Thanks, Rafe.”
Danny keyed in the vitals the second they ended the call.
John Fitzgerald Stanton. Driving late model green hybrid Accord. Picked up by feds for fraud, embezzlement, possible bigamy. Ankle bracelet while pending prosecution.
An odd-shaped car turned the corner and cruised up the street. It bore no resemblance to the Accord he’d seen Stanton drive away earlier in the evening, so Danny barely gave it a glance. He bent down and retrieved the tablet Jessie had picked up and stowed under the dash. Just as he started to take a second stab at reading, another set of headlights rounded the corner of Pinafore Street. The form could possibly be an Accord, but he couldn’t be sure. He tossed the tablet to the passenger seat and slouched down anyway.
The car swerved into the driveway to Jessie’s apartment building and cut the lights before the engine. Danny’s pulse went from a soft drum to urgent pounding as the dark shape of a man emerged from what could definitely be an Accord. Tall . . . broad-shouldered.
Yep. That’s Stanton.
Danny pushed open the door and it cracked, metal against metal, drawing the attention of the unwelcome visitor. As he turned toward the sound, Jack stepped into the yellowish bath of light from the street lamp. Danny closed the distance between them and stood face-to-face with Jack Stanton for the second time that day.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to speak to Jessie.”
“I thought we covered this at the restaurant,” he said evenly. “What could you possibly have to say to her at this late date?”
Stanton sighed and, shaking his head, peered down at the uneven concrete driveway. “That’s between me and my wife.”
There was that word again.
“You sure do toss that wife label around lightly, don’t you?”
“Look,” he said, slamming the car door shut, “this is really none of your business. What are you, the new boyfriend? That’s . . . well, it’s adorable.”
Stanton’s sarcastic lilt set acid to churning in Danny’s gut, lifting a foamy fire into his throat. “Almost as adorable as you leaving one wife to flop on a beach with another. Grow tired of the little umbrella drinks, did you? Oh, wait, no. Once you were stupid enough to try and vacation in a country with an extradition treaty, you probably didn’t have much choice in the matter. You received your return flight ticket courtesy of the FBI, I believe.”
As Stanton turned away from him, Danny quickly patted every pocket with open palms in search of his cell phone. When he finally found it tucked into the front of his shirt, he grabbed it and redialed Rafe. Just as he answered, Danny spotted Stanton already at Jessie’s door.
“Rafe!” he exclaimed, sprinting up the driveway. “We need some help over at Jessie’s apartment on Pinafore. Stanton is—” His words came to a grinding halt as Jessie opened her door. “No! Jessie, go back inside.”
“Callahan?” Rafe bellowed over the line. “What’s going on?”
“Go back inside and bolt the door.”
He watched helplessly as Jessie’s terror-ridden face curled up and she pushed the door shut; but his insides flopped with a thud as Stanton pushed it open again, charged inside and closed it behind him.
* * *
Jessie backed away from Jack in three enormous steps, grabbing the first thing her hand touched and whipped it in front of her. The large candle fell to the floor as she wielded the holder like a sword.
“Are you serious?” Jack asked her, one corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.
“Get out of here now, Jack, or I’ll show you how serious I am.”
Danny’s thunderous pounding on the front door let her know Jack had locked it behind him. She scanned the bolts and realized it was just the doorknob latch he’d secured, and she almost laughed out loud. That flimsy thing wouldn’t keep Danny out for long.
“What do you want, Jack?”
“I just want to talk to you—”
“I’m guessing you’ve got about thirty seconds, so you’d better be succinct.”
“—make sure you understand.”
“Understand which part? There are so many facets to my confusion.”
Jack darted toward her and grabbed her by the wrist, twisting until the candle holder fell to the floor, bounced twice, and rolled away.
“Let go of me!”
“It wasn’t supposed to go the way it did,” he blurted, sparks of desperation flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to let it get so out of
