Murder Deja Vu

sped past him, oblivious to the man in the Honda Civic with sunglasses, a ball cap, and the anxious feeling of unfinished business twisting his insides.
    He reached Portsmouth and called Carl from an outdoor phone at a quick stop. “Were the cops looking for me?”
    “Yes. They were waiting at the business when I returned. I said I hadn’t heard from you.”
    “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Carl?”
    “Am I to pay for holding back about Karen for the rest of my life? Yes, I was protecting myself, but I thought I was protecting you too. What do I have to do to earn your trust?”
    Reece thought about that. “I don’t know. Trust has been an occupational hazard. Forgive me if I don’t give it easily.”
    “You’re my brother, Reece. I love you. I still want to protect you.”
    “Gotta go. I’ll be in touch.”
    “Wait—”
    Reece hung up, immobile for a moment, letting Carl’s words sink in. Could he ever really trust anyone again? Then he thought of Dana and knew he could. He’d learned the game the hard way, and now his obsession to find a killer took priority over everything else. If only he could avoid the authorities a little longer.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Closet

    F rank Vance heard the word Police and said, “Lana, get her into the closet.”
    Dana didn’t know what that meant. Surely the police would look in every closet if they were looking for her and Reece. Lana took her arm and led her into the master bedroom before Frank finished the sentence. She opened the closet door and pulled the clothes bar forward. The whole wall moved out and then rotated on a revolving floor panel to reveal a small room.
    “Get in,” Lana said. “I’ll get your bags.”
    Dana followed instructions and squeezed into the tiny cubicle. Lana returned with both overnight bags and shoved them inside, along with whatever things lay around the room.
    “You’ll be fine. It won’t be long.” Lana pushed the fake closet back and closed the door.
    Why did Frank have a secret room? Then she recalled that one phone call summoned a phantom to exchange their pickup with a “clean” car. Frank might be out of prison, but he obviously hadn’t quit the shady exploits that could put him back inside. The closet was the reason Frank was so sure the cops wouldn’t find her and Reece if they came looking.
    Dana sat in the dark and waited. After a while, voices filtered through from the other side of the closet door. Holding her breath, she couldn’t make out the words. Maybe these old buildings didn’t have much closet space or granite countertops, but they were solidly constructed. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, and breathing became difficult. Fifteen minutes later, the sounds disappeared and the door opened.
    “It’s safe now,” Lana said.
    Dana reached back to grab the bags and knocked the top off one of the shoeboxes stacked behind her. Even in the filtered light she saw stacks of money stuffed inside. She handed the bags to Lana and noticed the Russian’s frown. “I didn’t see a thing,” Dana said.
    Lana didn’t say a word, but she nodded to Frank when they returned to the living room.
    “Guess who they were looking for?” he asked.
    “Reece didn’t think they’d make the connection so soon.”
    “It’s all in the records. As soon as Reece disappeared, they had every contact he’s made since he popped out of his mother’s womb. You too, probably. They’re staking out his brother, so I hope Reece figures a way around them. From the sound of it, your ex-husband has a hard-on for my boy.”
    “Yes, I imagine he does.”
    Frank sipped from the glass of water Lana placed on his side table. “Aren’t you going to ask about what’s in the closet?
    “No. It’s none of my business.”
    Frank grinned. “I like you, Dana. Most women would have panicked when the police came, but not you. You followed instructions, cool as a cucumber, as my old mammy used to say. You’d have made a great crook. What do you do, anyway?”
    “I write suspense novels.”
    “Ha, no wonder. Now you have firsthand experience for your heroine.”
    “Right. When the cops are searching for her and her lover, they’ll hide out in the house of a bagman who has a hidden closet stashed with his ill-gotten gains. How does that sound?”
    Frank’s laugh segued into a hacking cough, but he regained control quickly. “I’m only a stopping-off point, a safe bank in the transfer of money from one place to