Chapter Nine
Amber’s lying in bed with her notebook, scribbling notes that she hopes will one day turn into a book. She has no intention of going to sleep, not until Jack comes back. And maybe, she muses, returning to the office roused a memory in Jack, and he’ll give her another piece of the puzzle.
She’s turns back a few pages, reading over her list of suspects, Henry, Joel, Uncle Harvey. At the bottom of the list, she scribbles Jack’s name, then quickly marks it out. She hears a car stop outside of her window, and doors slam. Her chest constricts with hope. Jack made it back.
She hides her notebook under the mattress, and rushes to the window. Jack’s already out of view. She hears him punching in the code for the front door. There’s voices. He’s talking to someone. Who? Amber presses her ear against the glass pane, listening closely, but they’re already inside the building.
Her palms grow clammy with sweat. Jack shouldn’t be with anyone right now. Is it Henry? Joel? When she hears two sets of footsteps walking down the hallway, she follows her instincts and hides in the bedroom.
Jack swings open the door and pushes the detective inside. He quickly glances around, not seeing Amber. The bedroom door is closed, and he can see the light is on. Christ, baby, he thinks. Things just got a lot more fucking complicated.
Jack throws the detective on the couch, and threatens to beat him to death if he moves. Simon sits up calmly, straightening his clothes. Jack towers over him, staring down at the top of his white head.
“We’re here to make a deal,” Jack says.
Simon stares at his feet. “Jack, don’t make this worse for yourself. I can help you. If you turn yourself in, you’ll get a slap on the wrist, nothing more.”
Jack bends down, staring into his eyes. “Bullshit.” He smiles. “Are you really trying to hold onto to your meager pension? You should be more ambitious.” He swats Simon’s arm good-naturedly. The detective is playing the good cop, but Jack knows that anyone can be bought. “One million dollars. You resign. Leave the city.”
Simon cowers back into the couch. He could never accept this fugitive’s offer, but somewhere deep inside of his psyche, he sees himself on a beach sipping a fruity drink, far from the grime of this city.
“Listen, Jack.” Simon tries his best to steady his voice. “Get a good defense attorney. Plead your case. I understand you were in treatment for mental issues. Juries are quite sympathetic to that.”
Simon had hoped to reason with Jack, but it doesn’t seem to have had that effect. Jack’s eyes gloss over. The veins in his neck throbs. Simon recalls the stories he’s heard about Jack, about his extreme temper, and his propensity to cause bodily harm. Jack has his dark eyes trained on the detective’s face. Simon braces himself, closing his eyes.
“What’s going on?”
Simon’s eyes flutter open. He sees a woman standing in the bedroom door. Jack releases Simon from his stare, and turns toward her.
“Jack,” Amber says in a trembling voice. Jack rushes to her. “Who is that?”
Jack plants a kiss on her lips. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I’m a homicide detective, ma’am,” Simon says. “I’m leading the investigation of Jack Larsen Senior’s murder.” He points to Jack. “Are you aware of who this man is?”
Jack clutches at Amber’s waist. She holds her arm out, keeping him from getting to close.
“What’s he doing here?” she spits.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Jack says.
She hardens her eyes. “What are we going to do with him?”
Jack smiles. “What do you suggest?”
Simon clears his throat. “Excuse me, ma’am. You do understand you could be charged with aiding and abetting a known fugitive?”
Amber winks at Jack. She steps towards Simon, her hand on her hip. Simon doesn’t like the brazen look in her eyes. Jack stands behind her forebodingly. Simon is starting to realize that he’ll need to take Jack’s deal, or start saying his prayers.
“I’m aware, Detective,” she says. “Which is why we need to make sure that you don’t tell anyone we’re here. I heard your conversation through the bedroom door there. Jack’s offered you a very generous deal. You could take it, or…” She lets her voice trail off.
“I’ve been a detective for longer than you’ve been alive,” Simon sputters. “I have a duty to uphold the law.”
“Okay, your choice,” Amber says, flippantly.
She looks back at Jack. He steps up, cradling his fist in his palm, making his huge biceps flex. He wears a sick smile, like he’s looking forward to what’s about to happen. Simon doesn’t want to feel those knuckles crash against his face.
“Three million,” Simon blurts. “Three million dollars, and we have a deal.”
Jack slowly lowers his fists, his eyes clouding with disappointment. “That can be arranged,” Jack says. “And you get the fuck out of the city as soon as possible.”
“No,” Amber says. She looks back at the detective. “For that price tag, he can stick around and help us.” She pinches Simon’s cheek playfully. “You work for us now.”
*
“When will I see the money?” Simon asks. He’s been in this apartment for three hours with fucking Lady Macbeth lording over him, asking him endless questions.
“I assume the cops are tracking my accounts,” Jack says.
“Only the ones we know about,” Simon says, grumpily. “I know how you rich guys operate.”
Jack smiles darkly. “Do you know about the one in Switzerland?”
Simon knits his brows, and shamelessly admits that he doesn’t. Jack laughs, twisting a knife into the wound.
“New York’s finest,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Then don’t worry, Simon. You’ll get the money, after we get what we want.”
“Which is what?” Simon complains. He’s already sold his soul. He doesn’t want to wait for the deal to go through.
“The truth,” Amber says. “Who killed Jack’s father.”
Simon gives Jack a sideways glance. “Really? Aren’t we past this? I’ve agreed to help you. You can drop the innocent act.”
“Maybe if you did your job,” Amber says sweetly. “You’d know that it doesn’t add up. Why would Jack leave so much evidence?”
Simon cradles his face in his hands. He’s tired and hungry. He wishes he’d gone for that kebab instead of gotten into all this. “Because he’s bonkers, don’t you know that? He was in treatment. Can’t control his anger. He snapped. Is that so hard to comprehend?”
“I’m afraid you’ll need to look a bit deeper than that,” Amber says. “This is a man’s life.”
Simon exhales slowly, rubbing his temples. The only life he cares about right now is his own.
“Half up front,” Simon demands. “And I promise to help you in any way I can.”
Simon’s afraid to look at Jack. A silent pause weighs heavily in the room. Finally, he hears Jack’s deep voice.
“Done.”
*
“Are you sure we can trust him not to leave?” Amber says. She and Jack are in the bedroom. It’s three in the morning. Simon has fallen asleep on the couch.
Jack rips off his shirt and collapses onto the bed. “We can. You saw the look in his eyes when he talked about the money. Once someone has the opportunity to make that kind of money, they never turn back.”
Amber wrinkles her brow. “I don’t think I could ever do that, go against my morals for a payout.”
Jack smirks. “Everyone thinks that, until they’re actually given the chance. Then, they’re all the same. Greed is a common denominator.”
Amber joins him on the bed, and idly rubs his back. “Any problem you have, you can just throw money at it and it goes away.”
“That’s how it works,” Jack says. He’s face down in the pillow, relaxing under Amber’s hands.
She studies his smooth skin as she trails her fingers up and down his spine. If she had Jack’s kind of money, how would her life be different? When her Mom was sick, Amber had read about a brand new leukemia treatment being offered in eastern Europe. But no insurance would cover such a thing, and they’d have to pay out of pocket. Amber’s family couldn’t afford anything like that. It’s unlikely the treatment would have worked, but she still wonders, what if?
“How did Detective Simon know you were here?” Amber asks.
Jack shrugs his large shoulders. “He got an anonymous tip.” His voice is soft, on the edge of sleep.
“An anonymous tip.” Amber bites her bottom lip. “Someone ratted you out. There’s not many people who know where you are.”
“Just you,” Jack says, dreamily. “And Henry, and Joel.”
“Uncle Harvey? He could be watching you.”
Amber waits for Jack to answer. All she hears is a light snoring. She switches off the light and curls up next to Jack.
“Trust only me, Jack,” she murmurs. “Only me.”
*
The next morning, Jack and Amber stand over a still sleeping Detective Simon. Jack shakes his head, thinking of the mess he made. He should’ve kept things clean, simple. This is incredibly messy.
Amber gives him an exasperated look. “It’s getting late. If he’s too late for work, someone will get suspicious.” She walks over to the couch and nudges Simon’s feet. He jolts awake, then looks around in confusion. Amber waits patiently for his memories to merge with his consciousness. “Coffee?” she asks.
Simon nods, blinking. Jack shoves a pen and paper in the detective’s hand.
“Your bank account number. Write it down,” Jack says.
Simon’s face sours as he remembers his own corruption, but he writes down the number he knows by heart.
“One and a half million today, the rest when this is all over,” Jack says. “And once the money’s in your account, you can’t tell the police about this. I’m sure this whole deal is illegal for you.”
“It is,” Simon grumbles, handing over the number.
“I’ll go call Joel right now. Have him handle everything.” Jack picks up the cell phone and turns towards the bedroom.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Amber asks. “It can’t be tracked?”
Jack chuckles. “You really don’t know anything about this world, do you? The law firm Joel works for, which was founded by Joel’s father, works miracles. They can move money from one place to another without leaving a trace behind.”
“Okay, go work your billionaire magic,” Amber says. Jack goes into the bedroom and closes the door. A few moments later, they can hear him talking on the phone.
“You got anything to eat around here?” Simon asks.
“I’d offer you something, but you don’t have time,” Amber says. “You need to get to work. Come on, I’ll drive you to your car.”
“I thought I was working for you two now.”
Amber lowers her voice. “You are, and don’t forget it. Jack and I think it’s best for you to keep up appearances, keep going to work.”
Simon huffs while slipping on his shoes. “I’m a millionaire now, and I have to keep going to that office. Just my luck.”
“Not for long,” Amber says. “That’s why we have to work to figure this out. Do you have any idea who called in the anonymous tip.”
“No. They hung up without saying who they were.”
“Only a few people know Jack’s back in town, and where he’s staying.”
“Then I’d start there,” Simon says. “Go down the line, question each of them individually. But Amber, if someone snitched on him, it doesn’t mean they’re the killer.” Simon casts a sidelong glance at the bedroom.
“Jack’s innocent.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll prove it to you. You’ll see.”
“Look, I know you want to believe that. I see what you two have going here. Let me guess, you’re having great sex, it’s exciting and dangerous. But the brightest flames burn out the quickest. Just be careful, honey. You seem like a nice girl. Don’t let him corrupt you.”
“You don’t know anything about me. And you turned out to be pretty easily corrupted.”
Simon shakes his head. “Here’s the best advice I can give you. If you see me doing something, do the opposite. I have a chronic problem of making terrible decisions.”
Amber can’t help but give him a genuine smile. “Come on, let’s get your car. You can give me some interrogation tips on the way.”
*
Amber is careful when she suggests questioning Henry and Joel to Jack. She understands it’s hard for him to doubt them. They are the only two people he’s ever truly counted on. Jack doesn’t give specific details, but Amber gathers the three have been through a lot together. For some reason, Jack firmly believes that his friends would never turn him in. Jack must have precedent for this kind of trust. Amber suspects something happened in the past involving the three of them, and none of them talked.
“I need scope, the big picture,” Amber explains, brushing out her wet hair. The mirror is fogged up with steam from her shower. The towel wrapped around her chest falls to floor. She bends to pick it up, but Jack grabs it first. He holds it out of her reach, taunting her, while eyeing her chest. Amber purses her lips, then goes back to untangling her hair. “Did they ever tell you what they were doing that night?”
Jack is fixated on the towel he holds taut between his fists. He’s twisting it into a tight rope. “They weren’t there that night. They can’t tell you anything.”
“They weren’t at the club? Are you sure?”
Jack narrows his brow. “I don’t remember them being there.”
“Still, maybe they can give us something, anything. Detective Simon says that first you gather all the information you can, then you filter it through analysis. You never know. One small detail could break the case.”
Amber takes a deep breath, realizing how excited she’s becoming. Her pulse races with the thought of pursuing something worthwhile. She hated her life in White Oak, but it wasn’t because of the town. She has a deep affinity for those quiet streets. It’s her home, the place she knows best.
The most dreadful thing about her old life was the feeling that she wasn’t accomplishing anything. She wasn’t contributing to the world in any way. But that’s hard to do when you’re scraping by, living paycheck to paycheck, with no hope of ever breaking free.
Amber stares into the mirror, zoned out, brushing her hair. She snaps back into reality when she feels Jack’s tight grip on her wrist. The brush drops to the floor. He hooks his arm around her waist, and yanks her into him.
“What would I do without you?” he asks. His voice cuts through the hot steam. “What if I never took you?”
Amber feels his cock rising against her. She can smell the musky heat rising off of his body. Jack smooths the wet hair away from her face, untangling a knot with his fingers. A pleasant pain tugs at her scalp. Jack bends down and whispers wetly in her ear.
“You’re nice and clean for me. Good girl.”
Jack kisses the side of her neck. His lips bond erotically with the dampness of her skin. Amber closes her eyes as her entire body begins to warm. Their attraction to each other is animalistic, and bottomless. She can’t be around Jack for very long without him trying to rip her clothes off. As he lifts her up and sits her on the sink, Amber recalls Detective Simon’s warning. The brightest flames burn out the quickest.
Amber can’t deny that since she’s met Jack, she's been swept up in a flood of endorphins. Between the sex and the investigation, she’s barely reflected on what exactly she’s gotten herself mixed up in.
Aiding and abetting a fugitive, she thinks, as Jack’s face disappears between her legs. We’ve bribed a homicide detective for Christ’s sakes.
Jack’s tongue pulses against her clit. Any feelings of dread or panic are pushed aside by rising ecstasy. She leans back against the mirror, gripping Jack’s hair, and gives in to the pleasure.