Twin Targets. Marta Perry

“How would I know? You’re the professional. You tell me.”

      “Maybe we should go to my office in Billings to have this discussion.” It was a pretty safe bet that she didn’t want to do that.

      “I can’t do that.” Her voice went up. “I have to get to work.”

      “The library will exist without you for as long as necessary. But if you answer my questions here, it’ll go faster.”

      “I told you I don’t know anything that would help you.”

      “We don’t know ourselves what will help at this point,” he countered. “Humor me.”

      She shot him a look of active dislike, but then she shrugged, giving in. “What do you want to know? I’ve already told you that I haven’t seen Ruby since that day at the library.”

      He wasn’t sure he believed that, but he set it aside for the moment. “Had you been seeing a lot of her before that? Even before her case came up, I mean.”

      “No.” She hesitated for a moment. Sometimes people did that when they were trying to fabricate a lie, but he thought she just didn’t want to talk about it.

      “I hadn’t seen much of Ruby in quite a while.” Her voice was slow, reluctant. “I don’t know how much you know about our backgrounds—”

      She stopped, maybe waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

      “I know enough.” It was all there in the records, and he’d been Ruby’s contact.

      Her lips pressed together for an instant. “Our father was out of the picture. Our mother was an alcoholic and an addict. Our childhood was a nightmare. All I ever wanted was to get out—to make something of myself so I never had to live like that again. Ruby…well, Ruby didn’t agree.”

      “So you parted company, did you?” Truth to tell, he didn’t see much of his half brother, either. Sometimes siblings just didn’t have much to say to each other.

      “Not exactly. I mean, we didn’t have a fight or anything.” Her gaze slid away from his, as if there was more to it than that. “Ruby found my life boring, I guess. And I found hers…” she searched for a word “…dangerous.”

      “You knew she was involved with a guy who was Mob-connected?”

      “No, no.” She pushed that away with both hands. “Is that what this is about? Did they kill her because she testified?”

      “We don’t know that yet.”

      “But that’s what you think. What you were trying to protect her from by moving her here.”

      “That could be. So you’re telling me you were living in the same city with your sister but you didn’t know who she was seeing?”

      “I wasn’t living in the same city, not for most of that time. I went to work for the Baltimore County Library System after I got my degree. I only came back to Pittsburgh when that whole business about the trial came up. I thought Ruby might need me.”

      She was looking down at the shattered glass on the floor again, and her hands worked as if it caused her pain not to be able to clean it up.

      Baltimore. That was something to look into, at least. If Jade had been that far away, it seemed unlikely that she could have been involved in anything having to do with the Mob in Pittsburgh.

      They’d check on it. Just like they’d check on hundreds of other details. And in the meantime, the shooters were out there on the loose, maybe waiting for another crack at killing Jade.

      “Is that all?” She glanced up at him, looking like a kid longing to hear that an ordeal was over.

      Unfortunately he couldn’t believe that hers was. “Not entirely. We’d like to move you to a safer location for a time. If you’ll pack what you need—”

      “No. I’m not going anywhere.” That soft jaw managed to look amazingly stubborn. “This is my home.”

      “You’re not safe here. Let us take care of you.”

      Anger flared in her eyes. “The way you took care of my sister?”

      His fists clenched. “Those men could come back. Do you want to face them on your own?”

      Her face whitened, but she didn’t drop her gaze. They stared at each other, wary as strange cats, and he felt the force of her determination pushing against him.

      Footsteps thudded on the front porch, and the county sheriff came in, knocking snow off his boots.

      “There you are, McGraw. We’ve got some good news for you. Looks like you’re not going to have to worry about those two gunmen anymore.”

      “What do you mean?”

      And why was he talking in front of a witness? Overweight, overage and out of shape, the man was obviously too full of his news to be discreet.

      “I don’t know where they were for the past couple hours, but a few minutes ago they tried to run a roadblock we’d set up out on the highway.”

      “You’ve got them?” Maybe now they’d get some answers.

      “Well, not exactly.” The man’s pudgy face expressed disappointment. “Thing is, they tried to bust their way through the barrier, lost control of the vehicle, ended up wrapped around a utility pole. One’s dead, the other’s on his way to the hospital in critical condition.”

      And probably not able to talk, the way their luck was running. “You’ve got a guard on him?”

      “Of course.” The sheriff looked offended.

      “That means I’m safe,” Jade said, drawing his attention back to her. “There’s no reason why I have to go.”

      All his instincts screamed at the thought of leaving her here alone, no matter what had happened to the shooters. “You’d still be safer in a hotel in Billings.”

      Her jaw set. “I’m staying here.”

      “Well, shoot, we’ll look after Ms. Summers, Marshal. We think highly of her around here.” The sheriff beamed. “You federal boys don’t need to think we can’t take care of our own.”

      He’d argue, but he was on shaky ground. Jade could be right, and the threat to her could be over. The sheriff could be right, and he was capable of looking after her.

      Could be. But he doubted it.

      He looked at Jade and imagined her lying on a cold concrete floor with two bullet holes in her. His gut twisted.

      He nodded. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. It was all he could do.

      THREE

      The briefing seemed to be stagnating, and Micah shifted restlessly in his chair. They’d gone over and over the little they knew about Ruby’s murder, and it seemed to him they were no further.

      Phillips tapped a pen on the tabletop, the only sign of frustration he allowed himself. “Mac, what’s the scuttlebutt from Pittsburgh? Does the organized crime team there have anything?”

      Mac Sellers straightened at being appealed to. Years behind a desk had softened his belly and soured his disposition, but he’d learned how to work the complicated threads that bound law enforcement agencies together, and that could be invaluable.

      “Nothing that moves us forward. No indication that the Pittsburgh Mob was interested in sending any messages by tracking her down. Why would they? The guy she put away was a low-level soldier, easily replaced.”

      “What about him?” Phillips snapped. “He might be carrying a grudge.”

      “That’s more promising.” Mac seemed to like drawing out his moment of attention. “Joey Buffano, his name was. Seems Joey got himself a fancy