Page 1 of Now or Never
Chapter One
Boston, Massachusetts
Kenna Banbury had long considered clothing to be a form of armor. These days she could use real armor—the kind of bulletproof vest designed with a pregnant mother in mind. Horrible as it sounded, there were places in the world where that was necessary. She wouldn’t have imagined it in her own life, but then so much of what had happened over the past few months was previously unimaginable.
Mostly she was just trying to forget her time as a captive of their enemy so she could feel normal. If that was possible. It seemed more like the essence of who she was had been left shattered on the floor of that deep-sea platform.
“Ready?” Jax stopped at the entrance of the restaurant, the backdrop of the downtown Boston skyline behind him. Lights everywhere. Traffic, even after nine on a Friday evening.
“I miss Wyoming.”
“No more hiding.” He smiled, reminding her of her own words—the ones she’d said to him just a few weeks ago. “Time to get back to work.”
He hauled open the door, and she stepped into this little alcove of humanity where surfaces were covered with white tablecloths and the lights and conversation were set to “low.” A maître d’, slender and in her fifties at least, with a sharp bob and aggressively straight bangs, looked down her nose.
“We’re meeting someone.” Kenna scanned the dining room. “I see them. Thanks.” She passed the gatekeeper and headed for the expanse of tables. No idea where they’d find the Chief Medical Examiner. She kept scanning, aware of Jax behind her.
No matter what she did, where she went, or what they faced, her husband would be here with her. Behind her, watching her back. In front of her, protecting her and their baby from whatever threat came at them. Hopefully, nothing life threatening happened in this restaurant.
But then, that was why they were taking these cold cases.
Finding the lost and forgotten had become a way for her to try and put herself back together. Their child would be born into the kind of world where she would need her mother and father there to protect her every minute of every day.
Jax gently squeezed her hip, and she let him take the lead, threading through tables to the far corner. He reached his hand back, and she clasped it with hers, needing that bit of connection as much as he did. Neither of them had said as much out loud, but it was far better to work on cases anyway. Saving other people and solving crimes that no one else had been able to solve had become a life’s work for Kenna over the years—from an FBI career to private investigator and now as a husband-and-wife team, and the friends who had become family along for the ride.
Away from the traffic of the kitchen door, the Chief Medical Examiner sipped a glass of wine, as though unwinding at the endof a long week. She spotted their approach and watched them close the distance to her table. At forty-seven, she was young for the position she held, though the wear and tear of the job was evident in her eyes.
Jax dropped Kenna’s hand and shifted to the seat on the right, so she could sit across from the Chief ME.
“I’m here to meet with someone.” The woman’s voice sounded like a rough northern sea. She still had her blazer on over a white blouse. No jewelry. Makeup that had worn off, but her bright lipstick outlined her displeasure.
She probably thought she was here for a date. Not that they were going to accuse her of professional misconduct.
“We’re thesomeones.” Kenna slid onto the chair, thirsty but not willing to drink something that could be tainted when the director of the CIA and the president had been killed that way just a few months ago. “Kenna Banbury and Oliver Jaxton. We’re private investigators—unofficially, at least in the state of Massachusetts.” She watched for a reaction to their names, but there wasn’t anything overt in the steady gaze of the other woman. “We’re investigating a case you worked six years ago.”
“So you know who I am? And somehow you think—what?—that I can help you?” She took a sip, and the crimson wine stained her lips. “More likely you’re reporters here to ask me about something entirely different so you can dig up dirt and discredit me. All for a salacious story.”
Kenna had worn slacks and a nice shirt with no sleeves, but which hung blousy around her middle—not really disguising her pregnancy, also not drawing attention to it. She was six months along but didn’t really look it. Over the blousy tank top, she had pulled a heavy jacket to ward off the winter chill in Boston and boots with tread, because no way was she going to risk slipping.
She reached in the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out the wallet she used as a cred pack. Back in her FBI days, she’dcarried her badge and ID card in this leather fold. Now she pulled out a few of the private investigator licenses she held.
“Arizona, Utah,andWashington?” The Chief ME pushed those aside on the tablecloth and discovered Colorado and California under them. Her drawn-on brows rose.
“I get around. Which means I know what I’m doing, and I’mnota reporter.” She glanced at Jax, who laid the file he’d brought with him onto the table. “We know you’re Doctor Eleanor Walsh, and you’ve been the Chief ME for the City of Boston for over five years.” She pulled the file over but didn’t open it yet. “You aren’t married. You live alone. By all appearances you have chosen to dedicate your life to your career, which is an admirable thing. You give a voice to those who can’t speak for themselves, and because of that, justice is served.”
Dr.Walsh held Kenna’s attention with a steady gaze. She had blond hair, threaded with evidence of her years, and her reading glasses were probably tucked in her briefcase on the floor. She never left her work in the car where it could be stolen. She brought it with her always.
In the time they had spent following her and researching Eleanor Walsh, Kenna and Jax had learned she was meticulous. Which was what made this particular case so intriguing.
Kenna continued, meeting Walsh’s steady gaze right back. “Six years ago, you performed an autopsy on Samantha Ambrose. Fifteen years old. She’d been missing for over a year when she was discovered deceased in an alley on the other side of this city. That case has long since gone cold, though not for lack of trying on the part of Detective Withers.”
“And you’re here to solve it?” Walsh sipped her wine. “When no one else can? There simply isn’t enough evidence to find the killer. That’s what cold cases are. And despite the local news and media, there’s no grand conspiracy going on when a young woman is murdered. It’s simply a tragedy.”
“That’s where we come in.” Jax took the top sheet of paper. “This is a copy of the autopsy report you completed at the time. I’ll let you see for yourself, but you reported the cause of death as ‘Hemorrhagic shock due to penetrating injuries.’”
“If I listed that as the cause of death, it’s because it was the cause of death.” Walsh shifted in her seat. “I didn’t come here for…whatever this is.”
Kenna had more questions and didn’t want to do this on the street outside. “It’s been a long day for you, I’m sure. We won’t take up too much of your time.”
