I explained to Joey what happened when John and I had talked. At first, he wasn't surprised and told me it was normal for a homicide detective to quiz family members like that – that is, until I got to the part about Joey and I supposedly being in on it and carrying out the murder ourselves. He'd nearly come unglued at the asinine accusation.

Joey rattled off Brad's cell number for me and I went down the hall to use the hospital phone. My plan was to see if he could tell me if John was a friend or foe, and if Brad could help me prove who the real murderers were, since Mike, Mack Wheeler, and their two accomplices, along with my aunt's boyfriend, were dead and couldn't admit to anything themselves.

The phone seemed to ring forever. I was finally greeted by Brad's voicemail, but decided against leaving a message in case someone else had his phone. I didn't want to tip off the bad guys to my plans.

I hung up and started walking back to Joey's room. Halfway to the open door, I got a new idea. Sure, Brad could testify and tell the truth, but his reputation was already tainted, and as sneaky as Mike was, I doubted Brad would have much solid evidence to back up his claims, if any. Mike had worked it out where Brad would have no way to save his own ass either if it all went downhill. But what about the prostitute who had escaped with all the money? Was anyone looking for her? Did the police even know about her? I couldn't ask John. I couldn't trust him. And Joey wouldn't know. If I couldn't get ahold of Brad, I didn't have anyone else I could call. I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.

"Hey," I smiled at Joey. "Do you want anything? I'm going to run across the street to the market. I'm getting hungry and hospital food is yuck."

He shook his head with a sleepy smile. "Nah. I'm alright. When do you think you'll be back?"

Hell if I know.

"Um... I'm not sure." I tried to act like I wasn't up to something.

Joey looked skeptical, but I didn't give him the opportunity to poke holes in my plans. I gave him a quick, yet smoldering kiss, and skirted out the door before he could stop me. What Joey didn't know wouldn't hurt him – at least, that's what I kept repeating in my head.

I found my way out of the maze of hospital hallways and out to the street. My plan was dangerous, risky, and probably a little on the stupid side, but it felt like my only option. If Detective Rawlings wasn't going to do his job, I'd have to do it for him. I was going to have to track down the runaway prostitute and the stolen money myself. I'd have to prove Joey's and my innocence and her guilt. But I didn't even know where to start. I didn't know her name. I didn't even have transportation, a phone, or a weapon. This was going to be a challenge.

Just when I was about to jog across the parking lot, a silver BMW pulled up alongside the sidewalk and started creeping along, following me. I intended to run, but I recognized the vehicle. It was the stakeout car that Joey had whisked me away from my apartment in and left at one of his friends' houses.

I stopped and let the driver pull up to me. He rolled the window down and I was greeted by a very broad-shouldered and muscular man in a tight Boston P.D. V-neck. I'd never seen him before.

"Who are you?" I confronted him. "Who sent you?"

"Brad said you needed some help. Gave me a list of shit to investigate for him." His voice was gruff and matched his hard demeanor.

"Where is Brad?"

"Got arrested," the man said, reaching into his passenger floorboard. "Hop in."

I stared at him, trying to read him. Was he to be trusted? How could I know for sure?

"C'mon. What are you waiting for?" he frowned. "I ain't got all night."

"How am I supposed to trust you?" I demanded, hands on my hips. "How do I know Brad really sent you?"

The mysterious man stretched an arm out and extended to me the butt end of a black pistol.

"Would I give you the gun, barrel pointed at me, if I intended to do you any harm?" He almost laughed. "Take it and get in. We're going to finish this shit."

I curled my fingers around the gun and held it for a moment, waiting to see if he'd go back on his word. He scowled at my hesitation and snapped his fingers for me to get a move on. I threw caution to the wind and hopped in the front seat beside him, clinging to the pistol like my life depended on it. He wasn't going to earn my trust that easily.

"Why's there a silencer on it?" I asked, making sure to keep it pointed at the floorboard.

He shrugged. "Don't want to make a scene, do we?"

I didn't respond. I kept a sharp focus on our surroundings and constantly peeked at him peripherally, waiting for any sign that he was up to no good.

"Where are we going? And what's your name?" I started to quiz the man, noticing he had thick lines of ink wrapped around both his arms.

"Are you always this inquisitive?" he groaned and merged onto the highway. "Name's Jack. And we're going to hunt down your inheritance."

My eyebrows shot up. "I beg your pardon?"

Jack laughed at my confusion. "The bitch who has the money. Mike gave her a cell phone to keep in touch with him on a so-called 'secure line.' He didn't tell her he put a tracker in it. She'll be easy to find, assuming it's still her who has the phone."

We were going to hunt down the prostitute side chick? If Jack was telling the truth, this couldn't have been better if I'd planned it myself. He'd done all the investigating for me, and now all I had to do was help catch her and bring her to justice. How hard could that be after everything else we'd overcome?

"How did you get mixed up in this?" I hadn't even heard of Jack before.

"Joey and I go back a-ways," he told me, taking an exit onto another highway. "We were on the force together. I got burnt out, though. Left to do my own thing."

Now it was all coming together. "Oh! You're the private investigator friend! Joey left this car at your house when we first skipped town!"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for demolishing it, by the way. My insurance company sure had something to say about that."

I cringed at the memories resurfacing from the river in Minnesota. "Yeah... Sorry 'bout that."

He rolled his eyes and told me I ought to get some rest while I had the chance, because it wouldn't be long until we were in Danbury, Connecticut, our destination, and it would be a rollercoaster ride from there.

I started to ask Jack what he meant by rollercoaster ride, but I already had a good idea. I reclined the seat and closed my eyes, trying to take advantage of the downtime while still keeping a firm grip on the pistol.

Over the next hour and a half, I zoned in and out, never fully drifting to sleep. Images of Joey lying helpless and injured in that hospital bed infiltrated my mind and I couldn't think of anything but him. The moment he got shot kept playing over in my head. My heart ached at the memory of him clutching his wounded side and falling to the floor. He'd managed to stay so tough through it all, though. He amazed me.

"Aye." Jack whacked my arm with the back of his hand. "We're here. Wake up."

I readjusted the seat and surveyed the premises, rubbing my tired eyes. "I wasn't asleep. Where are we?"

"Little crapshoot inn just outside of Danbury. Transmitter says she's here." He looked down at his phone where he'd been GPS-ing her location. "Bet she's in there counting her steal and planning a grand vacation."

"What's her name?" I asked, looking at the rundown motel that resembled the last one Joey and I had stayed at.

Jack made a disgusted face while he checked that his pistol was loaded. "She goes by Veronica Spice. Real name's Leah Spencer."

I had to giggle at the woman's alias. "Alright, what's the plan, Jack?"

He explained his plot to waltz in the front office like he owned the place and get a room key from the manager. The inn was so old, it still had actual keys instead of keycards. He told me simply to follow his lead after that.

Stealthily, Jack made his move. He jogged across the small lot to the office with me just steps behind. His gun was holstered at his side in plain view. I watched from outside the door as he flashed a badge to the man behind the counter, who dared to argue that he needed a warrant.

"Do you really want me to get a warrant? Cause I know what kinds of illegal shit goes down at this dump, and I don't think you want me uncovering that, now, do ya?" I heard Jack ask the man who quickly surrendered and handed him a spare key to Veronica's room.

"Ready?" he asked me when he stepped back outside.

I nodded and we crept down the corridor to the room on the very end. Jack leaned against the old wooden door and listened for any movement or voices.

"I hear water. Sounds like she's taking a shower," he told me and quietly slid the key in the slot. "Wait here. I'll make the move. You'll be my backup. If she's armed, and I have no doubt she is, this could be a little difficult."

I took a deep breath and Jack silently unlocked the door. He opened it just a few inches, his gun drawn, and peeked around the room. No sight of her. She had to be in the bathroom.

The bathroom door was shut and we could hear the water running. On the floor at the foot of the bed was a brown backpack.

"I'll betcha there's the money," Jack whispered, eyeing it. "Wait until I restrain her and then grab it. I need your full attention."

I got into position, ready to fire, while he inched closer to the bathroom door, listening intently for any movement or voices. Finally, the right moment approached, and Jack – quite literally – kicked the door open. His boot even left a print on the wood.

A shrill scream sounded from inside the shower where "Veronica Spice" stood, naked and trying to cover herself with the moldy shower curtain.

"Didn't think we'd find you, huh?" Jack laughed sarcastically, his gun pointing at her as she cowered in the corner.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the woman scoffed. "I don't know who you are!"

"Oh, come on, now. We've got you all figured out, Leah. We know you stole the money and had your boyfriend taken out. No use trying to deny it," Jack said in an amused voice. "Now, get your ass up and get some clothes on. We're taking you back to Boston."

Veronica's face went pale at the mention of Boston. She may not have known who Jack was, but she damn sure knew what his plans were.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she screamed, still clutching the curtain as tightly as she could. "Get out of here! Leave me alone! I haven't done anything!"

"On the contrary, you've done plenty. In fact, I'll bet you've done more than enough to qualify for a couple decades in the penitentiary," Jack laughed. "I'll give you a choice. Either you don't fight me and you walk out of here with what little dignity you may have left intact, or I'll drag you out of here, kicking and screaming. Your choice, doll."

Her makeup-smeared face contorted in a mix of different emotions. She seemed to be considering her options.

"Okay," she finally sighed. "If I don't make a scene, you won't either?"

He nodded.

"Fine. Fuck out of here so I can get dressed, you bastard," she grumbled, sneering at him.

Jack turned away to give her her privacy, but left the door wide open, walking towards me. A second later, Veronica leaped from the shower stall and retrieved a hidden pistol from between the bath towels. In one swift move, she grabbed the gun and aimed it at Jack's back, but she wasn't counting on him having a partner.

My gun already drawn, I pulled the trigger before she could shoot him, nailing her right in the hand. Her pistol clattered to the tile and she let out a bloodcurdling shriek when the bullet passed through her flesh.

Jack spun around and captured her in his arms before she could run. I hurried to grab the backpack while he held her at gunpoint, forcing her to get dressed while she wailed about her bleeding hand. I lifted the flap on the pack to find a small mountain of hundred dollar bills, two more guns, stolen and fake I.D.s and passports, a one-way ticket to Paris, and the cell phone Mike had given her.

Once Veronica was dressed, Jack cuffed her hands behind her back and walked her out to the car. While I tossed the backpack in the backseat, he bandaged her hand with the limited resources he had in his first aid kit, and then proceeded to lock her in the trunk with a laugh.

I finally fell asleep on the drive back to Boston, despite the constant banging coming from Veronica's fist inside the trunk. Jack was speeding most of the way and we arrived almost an hour earlier than average.

When we reached the hospital, Jack escorted Veronica to the E.R. to get her hand taken care of while he called the police.

I rushed upstairs. I couldn't wait to divulge everything to Joey.

"That must've been one hell of a grocery run," he chuckled when I walked in, still carrying the backpack that held $3.2 million dollars.

Jack had advised me to hang on to the backpack until the authorities came to talk to Joey and me and collect evidence.

"Damn. I forgot the champagne," I grinned.