Twin Targets. Marta Perry

looking into Joey for us, but the immediate word was that he’s been doing an impression of a model citizen, working at his parents’ meat market and reporting to his parole officer on schedule.”

      Phillips made a complicated sound that expressed doubt at Joey’s turnaround and skepticism at his apparent alibi.

      “Keep after them. The two we’ve got on ice were low-level muscle. Maybe they were doing Joey a favor.” He looked around the table. “Anything else need following up on?”

      Micah didn’t particularly want to bring up this subject, but better it come from him than from someone else. “Yes. How did the shooters locate Jade Summers? And why did they bother coming after her?”

      “I don’t know why, but I can guess how.” Mac sounded pleased that he had something to contribute. “I was going over the report from Ruby Maxwell’s apartment. Inside her Bible they found a newspaper photo and article, announcing the appointment of Jade Summers as head of the White Rock Library.”

      “So they saw that when they tossed the apartment,” Phillips said. “Maybe weren’t sure they had the right twin, and went after the other one.”

      That meant he hadn’t led them to her door, at least. “That must be it,” he said. “There’s still the matter of how they found Ruby.”

      Mac shook his head. “We could look ’til we’re old and gray and never know that for sure, but I’m betting she was in touch with one of her old friends. We all know that’s usually what happens.”

      “We’ll keep following up on it, in any event.” Phillips sounded ready to be finished. “What are you working on right now, McGraw?”

      “I’m still checking out Jade Summers’s background.”

      Phillips closed the folder in front of him. “Have Mac help you with that. I want you to call your brother.”

      That jolted him to attention. “Why my brother?”

      “He’s the big expert on organized crime, isn’t he? That memo he sent about the Martino family—well, on the surface it seems unlikely there’s any connection, but he should be consulted. You call him.” Phillips smiled thinly. “Do you good to stay in touch with your kin. All right, people, let’s get moving on this.”

      Chairs scraped, fragments of conversation floated past his attention. He didn’t heed them. Call your brother.

      Okay, no reason not to give Jackson a call. It had been a while. Usually his information about his half brother was funneled through his mother. Jackson always maintained a good relationship with his stepmother.

      Back at his desk he checked through the information that had come through in the past hour, looked again at the file on Ruby, and finally faced the fact that he was putting off the inevitable. And that he was probably being unfair to his brother. Just because Jackson’s status with the Bureau was nearly legendary, it didn’t follow that he looked down on his little brother’s efforts.

      It just felt that way. Between his father’s reputation and his big brother’s, there was way too much to live up to in the McGraw family.

      He reached for the phone and called the Bureau’s Chicago field office.

      Special Agent McGraw was in. “Micah.” Jackson’s deep voice was crisp, as always when he was on duty, which was most of the time. “What’s with a Mob hit in the wilds of Montana?”

      “You know about that already.” He wasn’t surprised. Jackson kept himself informed about anything having to do with organized crime.

      “I know about Ruby Maxwell. I didn’t know you were involved, though.”

      “I’d settled her in Witness Protection. I was her contact.” He didn’t need to say more. Jackson would fill in the blanks.

      “Rough. I hear you caught the shooters already.”

      Not me, he wanted to say. A county sheriff and a handy utility pole caught them.

      “One’s dead, the other one’s not talking. The strange thing is that they immediately went after Ruby’s twin sister, Jade Summers, who has no Mob connection in what seems a blameless life.”

      Jackson grunted. “Nobody’s life is blameless. Does she know why they came after her?”

      “Not that she’s saying. We’re keeping an eye on her, obviously. Even weirder, the shooters didn’t seem to know for sure who they were after.”

      “It sounds like they weren’t the brightest bulbs in the pack. What do you want from me?”

      “There’s no obvious connection with the Martino family, but my chief figured you’d want to know.”

      There was silence on the line for a moment, but he could hear the scratch of Jackson’s pen. He had a quick, vivid image of Jackson in his fifth-floor office, looking out at the city that had been his home for most of his life—a life that he’d dedicated to eradicating the smear of Mob activity.

      “Okay,” Jackson said. “We’ll look into it on this end. Keep me posted, right?”

      “Right.” He waited, wondering if his brother would say anything personal, not sure he wanted him to.

      “Take care of yourself, kid.” Jackson’s voice was gruff. “Call your mother.”

      That brought a reluctant grin. “I do.”

      “Well, call more often. Stay in touch.” He clicked off.

      Micah hung up the receiver slowly, letting the smile fade from his face. Jackson hadn’t said anything about the fact that someone under Micah’s care had been killed. But it was a sure bet he’d been thinking it.

      Stop trying to live up to a legend, he reminded himself. You’ll never do it.

      Micah McGraw had told her virtually nothing about her sister’s death. Jade sat at the computer in the quiet of the county library, frowning at the screen. She wanted to look up details about the funeral service for Ruby, and she didn’t even know where to start.

      Would McGraw have told her more if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted by those two hoods? Somehow she didn’t think so. He was the epitome of a law enforcement professional. She’d been glad of that when he’d protected her during those terrifying moments she hadn’t known if each breath would be her last.

      But now that the fear had subsided, she found she resented everything about the man—his iron control, his snapped questions, his air of doubt at everything she’d said.

      And most of all, she resented the fact that he’d left her completely in the dark about her sister’s life and death. Where had Ruby been living during her time in Montana? What had she done? Had she made friends, enjoyed life, learned to laugh again? Or had she been living in fear?

      The fear would have been justified.

      She bit her lip. This was ridiculous. She was a librarian. She knew how to research. If the U.S. Marshal Service, in the person of Deputy Marshal McGraw, wouldn’t confide in her the details of her own sister’s death, she’d find out for herself.

      Fingers flying, she started combing through the records of Montana newspapers. Somewhere there had to be something. Knowing the Witness Protection Program’s passion for secrecy, they’d have clamped down on publicity, but they couldn’t cover every base. Someone would be planning a funeral for Ruby, no matter what name they’d insisted she use.

      Finally she found it. Ruby Maxwell. She leaned closer as if that would get her nearer to her sister.

      There was no article about a murder, no hint that Ruby’s death had been anything remarkable. Just a brief notice that funeral services would be held tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. at Christ Church, Brownsville, Montana.

      She stared at the listing, her throat tight. Then she clicked on a site