Janey can have tunnel vision to the exclusion of everything else when she’s in the zone.
Visions of my friend—a hundred pounds wet, if that—taking down the tall, solid man I talked to just yesterday has me rushing toward the front doors.
“I do know him,” I pant, out of breath as I scan the parking lot. “And if you’d read my emails or even just listened to me when we talk, you’d know who he is too.”
“Shit.”
I notice Raj leaning against the back of her SUV, arms crossed over her chest, and an amused look on her face. It isn’t until I get closer and can see between the parked vehicles, I notice Janey.
She’s standing over Lee Remington, who is slumped on the ground with his back against the front fender. He’s holding a hand over his face and blood seeps through his fingers.
Jesus.
“Couldn’t stop her,” Raj says with a shrug of her shoulders. “But in her defense, he was holding on to her door.”
I know right away what happened. If there was a tug-of-war over the door, Janey wouldn’t have had the strength to match, but I’d be willing to bet she used the reporter’s own strength against him by abruptly letting go. A fundamental principal of many martial arts. The sudden lack of resistance would’ve had the door slam into him with the power of his own strength.
This is why—despite her small stature—my friend is a master in martial arts and a force to be reckoned with.
I tuck my phone in my pocket, glaring at Janey, before I crouch down beside Lee. I peel his hand away from his nose, which is flowing like a faucet.
“Friend of yours?” he asks in a grumble.
“Yeah.” I pinch his nose and force his head back. “She doesn’t like people in her space uninvited.”
“No shit.”
“Make yourself useful and get me the first aid kit?” I ask Janey.
To Lee I say, “Lee, meet Pearl, and the one laughing over there is Onyx. These are the other members of the GEM team.”
“Wonderful.”
He darts a glare at Janey when she crouches on his other side and pulls some gauze and scissors out of the kit.
“You broke my nose.”
Janey barely appears to register his words as she continues to carefully roll gauze packs for his nostrils without sparing him a glance.
“Technically, you broke your own nose,” she says calmly.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Lee, feeling the need to diffuse the situation before it has a chance to escalate.
“Same thing you are,” he says defensively. “Looking for answers.” Then he turns to Janey, narrowing his eyes. “For a moment I thought you were Melissa’s friend, Bobby-Jean.”
My friend scoffs.
“Why? Because I’m Asian?”
“No. Because you’re tiny, have short black hair, and look like a fucking kid. Although,” he adds, “up close I can see you’ve got a couple of decades on her.”
Ouch.
I feel the air crackle with Janey’s indignation. Aging is a sensitive reality for her. I swear she was almost in tears the first gray hair she discovered, and Janey hates to show any emotion other than anger. To an outsider, she can come across as hard, but the truth is her curt manner and occasionally fiery temper are her tools of self-protection. It makes her feel strong and in charge, but aging is the one thing she cannot control.
I know his remark hit her true when she lifts her chin high and looks down her tiny nose at the man, before addressing him in an icy tone.
“That’s all right. I initially felt you might pose a threat.” She gives him a good once-over before adding with a cool little smile, “I see now my concern was entirely unfounded.”
Then she hands me the rolls of makeshift nose packing, gracefully rises to her full length—such as it is—and climbs into the passenger seat.
“Are you dizzy at all?” I ask Lee, who is glaring up at Janey through the window. “Hit your head? Need an ambulance”
“What?” He swings his head around. “No. I’m fine.”
“Good. Then let’s put these in and get you to your feet. Otherwise, I can’t promise she won’t make Onyx drive over you.”
Mitch is looking for me just as Remington drives away from the center. He insisted on driving himself when I prompted him to get to a clinic to make sure his nose wasn’t broken. In all honesty, I think his ego sustained more damage than any other part of him. Our Janey doesn’t take prisoners. Her words can be as lethal as her martial arts skills.
“Was that?”
“Lee Remington. Yes. He just met the rest of my team and now he needs medical care.”
I don’t blame Mitch for looking confused so I quickly explain what happened.
“How did things go with Sally?”
“She’s hanging in, but is worried they’ll likely have to shut the doors next week. Bills will need to be paid, suppliers will start cutting them off, and she has no idea how the finances were run.”
“Isn’t there a board of directors she can contact?”
“There should be, but Sally can’t find any information in the office.”
“Maybe Russel Germain can help?” I suggest.
We’ve been so focused on Kendrick, Krebs, and now Melnyk, I’d almost forgotten about the lawyer.
Mitch
“We found Jamie Lyons.”
I almost run the car off the road at Phil Dresden’s statement and I feel Kate virtually jump beside me.
“Say what?”
“Jamie Lyons. He was arrested last night by the Paducah City Police Department for car theft. Matt is on his way to talk to him. His name was flagged when they entered it into the system.”
“Was he alone?”
Kate is leaning over the center console, her eyes big on mine.
“As far as I know he was alone,” Phil confirms, adding, “Although, according to the officer the kid wasn’t very cooperative.”
“He’s probably terrified,” she mumbles before asking. “How long ago did Matt leave, Phil?”
In my peripheral vision, I catch her pulling out her phone.
“Couple of minutes ago, why?” Dresden wants to know, but Kate is already dialing.
“Probably so she can ask him to pick up Onyx,” I guess, earning me a nod and a smile.
It’s not like we haven’t had some training and plenty of experience interviewing children, but it’s possible the kid will respond better to a woman than a man. This way we’d have all our bases covered.
I thank Phil for the heads-up and end the call just as Kate connects with Matt.
By the time I pull up to Germain’s law offices—a swanky building in downtown Lexington—Kate has everyone organized.
“Do you think he’s been there the whole time? In Paducah?” she asks when I turn off the engine.
I internally smile at her excitement.
“We won’t know for a while. The drive to Paducah is around four hours and it’s already coming up on two o’clock,” I point out, turning toward her.
“I know,” she concedes, pressing a hand to her chest. “God, I hope he knows something about the others.”