Page 79 of Taking Care of the Target

With her memories back, she started wondering how she could’ve misjudged Mr. Rossi so greatly. How many of his meetings had involved hurting people? Now she knew the majority of them had revolved around illegal activities. She’d been too focused on her college classes to see the red flags. Well, classes and Vince—thinking straight around him had never been an option.

I just let him leave to take on an entire arm of the Mafia and his own uncle. All because ofmyconscience.She couldn’t help that she wanted Mr. Rossi to be held responsible, but she didn’t want Vince to be the one who paid.

What if he gets himself killed?She might never know, and the thought of that tortured her.

“Hey, Katie,” Maude said, sitting in the seat next to Cassie. It still threw her off to be called the wrong name, and she wondered if she’d ever learn to respond before letting a couple of seconds tick by.

Last pit stop she found out that Maude and Harold Hurst lived in Tulsa and had been in Maryland visiting their daughter and her family. Neither of them could drive very well in the dark, and Harold refused to take a plane because he didn’t trust an object that heavy to remain airborne, so they went most everywhere via bus. Not the mode of travel Cassie would choose, but Maude’s kindness and the couple’s funny interactions made the trip more bearable.

“Harold’s asleep and I thought I’d come chat.” Maude pulled out knitting needles and a spool of red, yellow, and gold yarn that reminded Cassie of fall. “Helps with the arthritis,” she said as she started working on what looked to be a scarf.

With her sitting this close, Cassie noticed a few rebellious strands of blond in the woman’s hair. Talk of her three children and five grandchildren accompanied the click of needles. After about twenty minutes of that, Maude lowered her knitting and glanced at Cassie. “I know you said you were going to Oklahoma City, but Tulsa’s nice, and well, I live there. You said you’ve worked as a waitress, right?”

Maude pried that out last meal stop—well, she noticed how Cassie treated their server and guessed. Lying about that part of her past didn’t seem important. “Right,” Cassie said.

“Harold bought a restaurant the year we married. Little place called Front Range Steakhouse. Spent most of our lives working there, too, and when we got too slow to keep up, my son Levi took over. Owen, my oldest grandkid, works there as well. I could easily put in a good word for you.”

“Oh, that’s okay.”

At the utterly distraught look on Maude’s face, Cassie said, “I mean, I’ll think about it. It’s just that I might not be stopping in Oklahoma permanently.”

She’d already ignored Vince’s instructions to transfer to another destination at one of the connections. She meant to do it in Missouri, but Maude and Harold had roped her into eating breakfast with them, and she didn’t want to leave their familiar faces behind quite yet. Not to mention she’d been too exhausted to deal with changing the ticket anyway. She figured Oklahoma was as good a place as any to pick a new destination.

And maybe, just maybe, she held out hope that if she didn’t veer too far from her original path, Vince would find her someday.

He’d probably say that meant anyone could find her, but who would know she was going under Kate Jones besides him? Since he wasn’t here in person to demand she follow his instructions, either, then it was just too damn bad for him. Technically, stopping early in Tulsa was sorta, kinda following his instructions. She also hated job interviews with a passion, and this one was pretty much being offered up on a silver platter.

“You know what? I’d love a job,” Cassie said. “As long as you think your son will be okay with it.”

“He’s okay with whatever I tell him to be okay with.” Maude patted Cassie’s hand. “We’ll get you settled and all fixed up, just you wait.”

Having a plan calmed Cassie’s frayed nerves a bit, and she needed every ounce of calm she could get. A job wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start. Besides, she didn’t think she’d find another Maude out there, and she was already becoming attached.

If the options were start from ground zero totally alone or get a little help from Maude in a place that didn’t veer off the bus path very far and might make it easier for Vince find her one day, the risk seemed worth it.

***

Vince parked down the road from Rossi’s, waiting for Carlo’s tail. Carlo pulled up to the restaurant and headed inside. A couple of minutes later a beat-up brown car with tinted windows turned onto the street and parked a few blocks down.

Were they seriously just hoping to spot Carlo doing illegal activities through the brick walls of the restaurant? Or did they think he wouldn’t notice them and go down to the docks in the middle of the day so they could get it all on video?

Whatever they were doing, it obviously wasn’t working. They also had an unmarked car watching Vince’s house—not surprising considering Cassie’s sudden disappearance. Enough people knew he’d been with her to lead police or feds or whoever was looking into it to at least question him. Since he didn’t want that to happen quite yet, he’d stayed in a cheap motel last night, with no Cassie to keep him company. Talk about adding insult to injury.

Vince pulled the bill of his baseball cap lower, walked over to the brown car, and tapped a knuckle on the driver’s side window. It unrolled a couple of inches, revealing a man with a hard look to him, the kind that suggested he’d seen his fair share of action over the years. He also had his hand on the handle of his gun.

The passenger craned his neck to get a peek, and Vince immediately recognized him. “If it isn’t my favorite P.I. Fancy seeing you here with a federal agent as a partner. Guess you’re moving up in the world.”

Vince stepped back, lifted his shirt, and spun around to show them he wasn’t armed. Then he leaned in again. “Why don’t we take a ride and have a little talk?”

“Funny, because I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” the driver said. “I think it’s more of a down at the station talk, though.”

“That’s fine if you’re happy with how your investigation’s going. If not, I’d suggest choosing the ride option. Just know the longer you think it over, the more likely someone will see me talking to you, and then we’ll both be SOL.”

The locks disengaged with aclick,and Vince ducked into the backseat. Mr. Fake P.I. turned and aimed a gun at him as the driver pulled away from the curb and took the next side street. “I’m Special Agent McVee,” the driver said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror, “and my partner’s Agent Mancini.”

“You guys aren’t being as conspicuous as you’d like to believe,” Vince said. “I spotted you from a mile away. Same with the car watching my house.”

Mancini looked like he wanted to argue but kept his mouth closed. It wasn’t like Vince thought they’d give away their secrets, but he would like to know he’d chosen competent people. Not some green agent he’d been able to easily sneak up on. At least the driver seemed better. But he didn’t needbetter. He needed the best.

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