Karin felt as if she were two different people during the remainder of lunch. Part of her ate her white-chocolate custard dessert, chatting pleasantly with her tablemates, confident that the scam was moving forward.
Another part of her sat back and tried to put things into perspective, reminding herself that this scam wasn’t about bringing it home. It was about putting Longsford away for the rest of his life, and that meant drawing the process out in a way she would never normally consider.
Except that in the background of it all, her life had still been wrecked. Rumsey teetered on exposing her. And Dave knew she was still alive. Knew her history. The havoc he could wreak if he chose…
She needed to get out of here as quickly as possible, money in hand.
And yet she still needed to linger, to soak up Longsford’s habits, find ways to use whatever advantage her resemblance to Ellen gave her. He’d obviously seen the resemblance even if he didn’t assign any particular meaning to it, and that meant she was likely to be his type. Physically, at least.
You’d think differently if I weren’t all made over as Maia Brenner. If I was still wearing Ellen’s clothes. You’d figure out the meaning to it then.
The resentment startled her, resentment that Longsford had failed to recognize a woman who could literally pass for Ellen’s twin. That he hadn’t paid enough attention to Ellen to see what was before his eyes, even though that failure kept Karin safe. Yes, resentment. Because Longsford had used her sister. Never truly respected her, merely acquired and controlled her just enough to establish a public perception of the couple.
And now I’m using you.
But not without conflict.
For Ellen’s sake, for Rashawn’s and Terry’s sakes, Karin had to prolong her time here, exposed to this monster hidden in a politician’s clothes, the scam a distant second priority.
But for Karin’s sake, she had to close down this con as soon as possible, grab the money and run. Literally. Away from here, maybe out of the country. With Ellen gone and her life on the farm blown, there was nothing keeping her here.
France, maybe. Switzerland.
“Miss Brenner?”
Karin looked down at the tiny espresso cup in her hand and the empty dessert plate before her. She tried to recapture the taste of the custard on her tongue and couldn’t. But she smiled at Rucsher and said, “Please. Call me Maia.”
“We seem to have lost your attention,” Longsford said drily.
“Actually, I was pondering what to do about the reception. I don’t have much time to decide whether I should cancel.”
Longsford’s face turned dark. “That’s not terribly subtle.”
Karin laughed. “Subtle? I was clear about the situation when I spoke to you yesterday. Anyway, it’s my problem. You make whatever decision you think is best for you. Honestly, gentlemen, although I do consider you a very good match for this investment, I’m quite sure I can walk away from that reception with a handful of potential buyers. This is how I make my living and, as it happens, I make a very nice living indeed.”
Or she once had. The real question was whether she’d be doing it again-or what she’d be doing at all.
The only thing not in question was the need to stop this man.
Her thoughts caught on the one moment in which Longsford had broken character during lunch, when Rucher had mentioned the building on North West. Only an instant of defensiveness, but significant. Perhaps a weakness she could exploit later.
Yeah. Something to investigate.
Karin licked the last taste from her dessert spoon, watching her mark with a guileless and steady gaze. “Tell you what,” she said. “Think about it. Check out what you’ve learned today, and let’s touch base tomorrow. After that, you lose your exclusive, but you’re certainly still welcome to bid against the others.”
And either way, you’re mine.
Karin sweated out some of her conflicting emotions in the hotel gym, working a stair stepper and cooling down on a treadmill. The shower afterward felt blissful, and she emerged from the hotel dressed down, heading to catch a bus to the library. At the library she went to work narrowing down the building question. North West Street, near the tracks, near an office complex. The city maps gave her the general area, but not potential buildings. Not until a nearby librarian saw her tapping her fingers on the map, pondering her next move, and drew her over to one of the computers.
There, she showed Karin the new Alexandria parcel viewer online. Karin quickly zoomed in on the street in question, enabling the photographic overlay that painted in satellite photography around the big pale brick blocks of buildings. Navigation was a little tricky, but she was able to survey the buildings along the street in question. She hunted for a confluence of railroad tracks, a stand-alone building, and an office-building complex-and when she spotted it, there was no question that she’d found the correct building. Literally jammed in behind a long, complex conglomeration of offices and the railroad tracks, the small factory sat on a tiny lot of scraggly grasses, and had a hard-to-access parking area tucked in behind it. The whole parcel sat plopped on the north end of North West Street.
When queried, the parcel viewer data bank-so eager to give out detailed information about the ownership, various sales prices, taxable value and exact address-told her merely no parcels found. Experimentation with other buildings and even empty lots gave her, at minimum, the current owner and property type. Even if it was vacant land, commercial.
But not this one.
Interesting.
She played with the interface a bit, getting an idea of the area. The offices looked like they’d be nice, and the land just beyond that was in development. Not a bad area at all. She thought Longsford had a good point, that the building would become worth more in the near future. So what was the deal with his defensive behavior?
Or maybe Karin had just misinterpreted his reaction. Maybe he’d just been impatient; Rucsher had obviously lobbied to get rid of the building before. She panned north, hunting an alternate approach by car, and stopped short at the sight of what appeared to be a giant white marshmallow squatting on many legs half a mile from the factory. A giant white-
Water tower.
“Cree-ap,” she breathed. She scrambled in her notes-in Dave’s notes-and confirmed what memory had told her. Rashawn had been found under a water tower. North Payne Street said the notes, and there it was on the map beside the squatting marshmallow. N. PAYNE ST.
She closed the folder, abruptly enough to make the stiff paper slap together. Ignoring the looks she got, she leaned back in her chair and stared blindly at the screen, not seeing the interactive parcel map at all. Seeing Dave’s face when he’d heard about Rashawn. Seeing the inexplicable expression on Longsford’s face when the factory had come up in conversation.
Seeing what she thought could be the answer.
“Hey,” said a guy’s voice from behind her, a challenging greeting. “You done with that or what?”
Done with-? Oh. The computer. “Sure,” she said. She flushed the browser cache and closed out the window, pulling her things together with her thoughts still fogged by what she’d seen. The young man who’d been hovering behind her plopped himself gracelessly in the chair almost before Karin had completely vacated it, but she didn’t offer him so much as the glare he deserved.
Surely it couldn’t be that easy. Surely Dave would have figured it out by now-
Except Dave hadn’t known about the factory. No one had known about the factory. If Karin headed to the courthouse, she had no doubt she’d find the trail that would eventually lead back to Longsford, but until now, no one had known there was any reason even to look.
It might be nothing. It might be absolutely nothing at all.
As Karin passed the front desk on the way out, the librarian smiled at her and asked, “Find what you were looking for?”
Karin didn’t think twice. “Oh, yeah,” she said. Words that had come from that gut instinct of hers. Words that superceded her doubt and told her exactly what she’d be doing the next morning, exactly where she’d be.
Now this was being on the jazz.
She should have been exhausted. She should have been asleep as soon as she turned out the light in her hotel room. There was no way she should be staring at the ceiling in the dark, listening to her neighbors play bump-the-headboard and pondering what next.
It’s not rocket science.
She could tell Dave what she knew and leave it up to him.
I don’t know anything. I’m guessing. Not to mention that she wasn’t ready to call him. Not to talk to him, not to leave him a message. Definitely not to bring him into this game of hers.
She could check out the factory herself, and-if she found anything-delay acting on it until she’d finished out the scam. It was a beautiful scam, fully operational and well on the way to closure. Once she had funds, she’d be out of here. On her way to something new.
No downside there. Bad guy gets caught, smart girl gets away clean…
She could check out the factory, and-if she found anything-give Dave a heads-up on her way out of Alexandria. Shuffle her remaining funds into an account for another persona and start again on a shoestring. Or-and Karin winced, finally facing the inevitability of it-she’d have to sell Ellen’s farm. Start her life again just as she’d always intended, with a new career. Clean.
Too bad there aren’t any more aliases left in the goody bag. But she bet pawn-shop Freddie could help with that. For a price.
“Or,” she told herself out loud, “wait until you reach the factory and see what you find. Might be a big fat zero. Make your decisions then.” Be ready for anything. Motto of all good Boy Scouts and con artists alike.
That sounded like a plan. Karin closed her eyes, determined to sleep. It took her somewhat by surprise when she found them open again mere moments later, staring at that same old ceiling.
Because it didn’t really matter if she felt like calling Dave. She was a con artist, not a skulk, a thief or an officer of the law. The factory lead had too much potential to mess up…and if there was one thing she did know from her lifetime under Rumsey’s guidance, it was not to let pride or ego get in the way of a successful finish. And that meant Door Number One: the phone.
Smothering darkness turned to flashing lights, the background full of grief and wailing, the rural ground uneven beneath his feet. Curiosity foremost, overlaid with a child’s naive certainty that everything will turn out all right-
Nom de Dieu de bordel de merde! The words cut through the night, unfamiliar and yet shattering his naiveté to inspire the first shard of trepidation. Endless barking, then, and the lights and noise and emotions turned to a smear of sensation. Irresistible, it drew him onward-and suddenly resolved in a crystal-clear image, a battered face, a shock of curly red hair, a stench of corruption-
Dave pulled himself from the dream with a grunt. Only a grunt, because he’d had so much opportunity to train himself to deal with it. So many deaths…so many dreams. If only he hadn’t been half asleep by the time his father pulled into the dump site. If only he hadn’t foolishly run toward the solemn cluster of adults and the excited police dog. If only he hadn’t tripped upon reaching them, sliding forward with momentum until he met the dead boy face-to-face.
Yeah, right. What if. Whatever. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sat up in bed, surprised when a farsighted glance at the clock told him it was only a little past midnight. Great. Could be a long night.
Especially after a day in which the feebs had tracked him down and told him to go home. No uncertain terms there. And Dave had told them he was here with a friend and he’d damned well show her the sights if he wanted to.
He hadn’t fooled them.
Then again, he hadn’t expected to. But he didn’t intend to be chased away, either. Not with Rashawn’s death dogging him. Not with Karin still out there, a killer hunting a killer.
It occurred to him then that she’d had Gregg Rumsey hanging over her head for every bit as long as he’d had his own nightmare.
It wasn’t a thought he knew what to do with. It made him suddenly hurt for her in a way he hadn’t done before, empathizing with the child she’d been, understanding how her young life had been changed. And yet she was wanted for killing an elderly couple who had recently emptied their savings accounts. Didn’t take a lot of dots to connect that line. If she’d done that…
It didn’t matter what had been done to her as a child. What she’d lived with. Who had failed her. She was still responsible for crossing that line.
For killing.
He headed for his laptop on the dresser. His OneNote files about Longsford were displayed in LCD glory. Dead children in a newly extended list, based on Ellen’s photos. Dated photos. How had Longsford ever let her take them?
Because he thought he had her under control.
His cell phone rang, echoing in the silent room. He jumped, snarled at himself for being so reactive and flipped it open to discover an unfamiliar number on the caller ID.
No. Not unfamiliar. Recently learned. He thumbed the on button, still torn over who she was and what she’d done. And dammit, still eager to hear her voice. “Karin.”
“Tell me you’re not tracing this,” she said warily.
He gave a short laugh. “The tracker is my only big toy.”
This time she was the one to laugh. “It most certainly isn’t.” A palpable flush of emotion filled the silence between them, and her next words came out chagrined. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t… I shouldn’t have…”
He couldn’t remember hearing her at a loss for words before. “It’s okay,” he said. “And no, you didn’t wake me. What’s up?” Because there was no point pretending this was just a casual call.
She said, “I think he’s going to go for it. Which is kind of a problem. I really thought I’d have to woo him longer. I think your Kimmer could have been a great con artist-”
“No,” he said bluntly. “She couldn’t. She’s about helping people.” Not ripping them off. He didn’t have to say it out loud.
“The point is,” Karin said, her voice gone cool, “that I’ve got some decisions to make, earlier than I thought I’d have to make them. And I need to know-if I drop out of sight, are you going to let me go?”
He sat heavily on the edge of the rumpled bed. How could she even think-? “Karin,” he asked, “why didn’t you tell me about the warrant?”
“Oh, crap.” And then she didn’t speak for a moment, long enough that he almost checked to see if she was still on the line. She said, “How long have you-? No, wait. I know. Since that first night at the safe house. When you got strange over pizza.”
“Since that night,” he agreed.
“Fine. Now you’ve had it confirmed that I’m a bad egg, which I’d pretty much told you already. That doesn’t answer my question. I’ve gone out on a limb here. I’ve set up this scam and I’m already pulling in information. If I get you enough to come down on Longsford and then quit the area, are you going to come after me?” He didn’t hear any worry in her voice, no implications that he would actually catch her. Just that he could complicate her life.
The casual nature of her response floored him. “You must be kidding,” he said, and couldn’t keep the dismay from his voice. “Do you really think I’m the kind of person who can ignore a murder warrant?”
“A murder-!” Her speechless pause didn’t last long. “That giant bag of frog pus! That scum-sucking son of a bitch!” Her voice came from afar, as though she’d moved the phone away from her mouth. Then she said, “No. I don’t think you are.”
And she hung up.
Dave stared at the cell-phone display, trying to parse all the things that had just happened in that single short phone call. The reappearance of their unmistakable connection…it was still there. But her casual initial response to the warrant, followed by that outburst and then…
He could only call it loss of hope.
He stared at the phone a moment longer, then dialed her number. Whatever she’d been going to tell him, she’d never gotten around to it. Nor, he realized with disgust as the phone flipped over to voice mail, was she likely to do so now. He was still out in the cold…and she was still in the thick of it.
Wait and see was getting old fast.
Murder. What the hell had Rumsey thought he could do? Palm that old couple off on Karin to keep his own prospects free and clear? As if!
Except, Karin realized grimly, he’d obviously gotten away with it. And she knew he’d done it well. No doubt there’d been plenty of evidence planted in her apartment, in the almost-empty bank account she hadn’t tried to access since her “death,” in numerous sly comments and with his fix in the local police department.
She also knew better than to think the police would listen to her if she told them the truth of it.
Ah, crap.
Which was about how she’d slept the night before. Now it was midmorning on North Payne Street and Karin shuffled her sneakered feet, hugging herself within the army surplus field jacket as she cast a wary eye at Longsford’s old factory. The one he was so certain no one knew he owned.
She’d already walked up along First Street, the road that ran behind the factory. The water tower squatted just beyond its sharp turn, white and huge and looking like a marshmallow on legs even from this ground vantage point. The grass beneath it appeared damaged; around its perimeter, tire tracks skewed off the road and dug ruts into the soft spring ground. Crime scene tape still marked off one corner of the ground beneath the tower. She didn’t have to imagine how the little body had looked. There had been pictures.
How could Longsford be so dumb? The man who’d been evading the authorities for years, dumping a body near his own building? Near the building Karin suspected served as his own private playground? It just didn’t make sense.
And that was why she hesitated, hanging at the corner of the Metro maintenance station, fingering the fragile tracker she’d liberated from its hiding place and from her compact. Dave would get the idea if she tagged this building and walked away, but she had no idea if it would be enough. The feebs sure wouldn’t get a warrant on her hunch.
But it would point them in the right direction. And by the time Longsford had a chance to snatch someone else, maybe Dave would have dug through the layers to understand the connection between Longsford and the building. He’d be in the position to act.
Or maybe not.
Crap.
Karin tugged at the billed cap she wore-one of Ellen’s, with a sheep on the front and the words “Ewe Bet!” captioning it, a faded lilac thing that didn’t go with her olive green jacket but did a decent job of fending off the intermittent drizzle. Strands of bright blond hair had escaped the ponytail she’d gathered out the back of the cap.
Look, Sommers. Just get yourself to the building and see what you see.
She really preferred to have a plan. And a fallback plan. All she had now was too many choices.
She took a single step away from the Metro building, crunching on the gravel footing, and then she eased back again. Not that she wasn’t still visible, but as long as she stayed low and still, maybe the fellow who had just driven up to the building from the North West Street access wouldn’t see her. He didn’t bother to park properly; he just pulled off the road and made his own parking space on the small area of winter-bleached grass. “In a hurry?” Karin murmured. For there was a perfectly good if tiny parking area off First Street.
Yup, in a hurry. Only moments afterward, he came back out again. Karin squinted and wished for binoculars, but couldn’t recognize the guy as anyone she’d seen around Longsford. “Just go away, then,” she told him. “I’ve got things to do.”
He obliged, spinning turf into mud as he reversed out of his parking spot and backed onto the street without even checking to see if it was already occupied. Definitely didn’t want to be here.
Then what had brought him here?
Hmm.
Karin put her casual face on and headed for the building. Its dull red-brick color had intensified in the damp weather and her feet were soaked through. If nothing else it was time to get out of the rain. Too bad the doors to the building were locked down tight. The main door of cardboard-covered glass, the double doors of the loading area, the metal door to the side of the loading area…all of them. She saw enough battered old signage to realize this place had once manufactured dry ice. The area around the base of the building was clean, totally devoid of useful pry bars.
Doesn’t matter. I never intended to go in. Just to look. She stood on her tiptoes to peek through the glass of the loading area door, shading it with her hand. Couldn’t see a thing.
Well, then…things weren’t going to be as easy as all that. She’d leave the tracker here to bring Dave this way, and then she’d go back to her scam. She’d invited Longsford to an ice-cream social at Jones Point Park in the late afternoon, an event complete with barbershop singing and a little petting zoo for the kids, and she bet they wouldn’t call it off for a little drizzle like this. No big surprise he’d taken her up on the invitation-petting zoo equals kids. She hoped to finagle an invitation back to his home, drinks and discussion and a chance to look around.
Karin pondered the door a moment longer, and finally found a spot in the corner of the window where she could gently wedge the tracker into place. It would bring him here eventually. Whenever he bothered to check the tracker.
Hmm. On second thought, she’d have to call him once she was safely away.
After last night, she knew he’d never just let her go. Why should he? He thought she was a murderer. The best thing she could do for herself was to stay out of his sight and out of his range, and to beat feet out of this city the moment she was of no more use to him. Because that was all he was doing now…using her, just as Rumsey had done. He’d known about the warrant since before their encounter on the sidewalk, and he could have grabbed her there. But he hadn’t, because he wanted her to bring him Longsford. To do what he hadn’t been able to do.
She wondered how that fit into his little honor system.
Time to go. This place was neat, clean and impenetrable. Not a clue to be found.
From inside the building came a faint cry.
Karin froze. She tried to convince herself it had been a cat. She tried to convince herself that she hadn’t heard it at all.
It turned out that this con girl wasn’t so good at lying to herself.
She stood on her tiptoes and cupped her hands around her mouth to yell through the window. “Hello? Anyone in there?” And she instantly felt foolish, so she added, “Landshark!” just so she could feel like a smart-ass instead.
She didn’t feel so smart when the cry repeated itself in a string of hysterically shrieked words. High-pitched words. A child’s distant voice.
What the hell-? If any kids had gone missing, surely Dave would have known it? And how could Longsford have been so bold as to snatch another-to keep another-right here, a mile from the recent dump site?
Just as quickly as she asked herself, she knew the answer. His last little power-play game, his orchestrated scenario to exert complete control, had gone badly wrong. Now he was desperately trying to make his world right again.
No wonder he’s been wound so tight.
She forced herself to step back and breathe deep, taken by surprise at her suddenly racing heart.
She thought she’d been jaded. She thought she’d faced so many high-risk moments that they could no longer get the best of her.
She’d been wrong.
Don’t be an idiot. Don’t try to do this alone.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Dave’s number. She had to do it twice, thanks to her shaking hands and the cast. She didn’t worry about what she might say; the need to help this latest victim superceded whatever stood between them. The words gathered at the tip of her tongue, ready to burst out-I found Longsford’s playground there’s a boy here I need help!
She couldn’t believe it when the ring rolled over to his voice mail. She pulled the phone away from her ear, glared at it and hung up with an angry stab at the off button.
Another deep breath. Okay, that was stupid. She’d leave a message. She dialed again and this time the words burst from her mouth as soon as he said, “This is Dave Hunter. Talk now.” She added a hasty warning that she was turning her phone off so it wouldn’t ring at the wrong moment and suggested he follow his tracker if he couldn’t find exactly where she was.
Then she tucked the phone away and considered the situation, her fists jammed into her jacket pockets and the gun there suddenly feeling a lot more necessary than she’d ever expected. No more scam, no more games, no meeting Longsford in the park. Just an abandoned building and a terrified kid.
The place was locked up tighter than a fortress and B and E had never been her thing. She gazed at the window. Double-paned glass, but just glass. But she’d barely fit through the thing, supposing she could even climb high enough to do it.
She closed her eyes, all-too-easily imagining she could still hear the boy’s cries for help. The helplessness of it triggered a swell of resentment…and of rebellion. She would climb high enough. And she would fit through the damn window, too.
Her hand tightened around Dave’s Ruger, then released. She couldn’t see through the window well enough to risk shooting through it-there was no telling exactly where the kid was located. Not to mention that the noise might get someone’s attention. The wrong someone.
She remembered the parking lot on the other side of the building, full of chunky-edged asphalt. Keeping an eye out for unwanted visitors-with a kid here, who knew when Longsford or one of his minions might appear-she sprinted around the building to prowl the edges of the lot. She spotted a fist-size chunk of asphalt and pried it loose. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered under her breath as she ran back to the door. With another quick glance to assure herself she was still alone, she smashed the man-made rock against the window, ducking away from the shards that fell outward.
Yeah, she was gonna be in big trouble if this was a cat after all.
But with the noise of breaking glass the cries renewed, and there was no mistaking that frantic if muffled howling for anything but a human child. Karin pulled her sleeve over her hand for protection as she scraped the asphalt chunk along the window frame, crushing the glass she couldn’t knock out. If she got the kid loose she’d have to send him right back out through this window, and she didn’t want him sliced and diced on the way.
Finally, swiping away glass dust with her protected hand and blowing off what she could, she tossed the asphalt inside the building. No telling how many doors she’d have to go through on her way to finding the kid.
For a moment, then, she stepped back to consider the window. Leap, grab, shove…she’d have to wiggle her way through and hope she had the momentum to do it.
She pictured it in her head, decided she was crazy, and reminded herself that she’d climbed a wall of kudzu not so long ago. Also not one of those things she had pictured herself able to do.
A few quick breaths, a glance around to make sure no one would see her ass disappearing through the window, and she went for it. Three steps, a leap, her casted wrist awkward enough to slip and skew her to the side-
She made it as far as her hips, folding over the window frame with half of herself on either side. But a curse and a wiggle and a shove and suddenly she was falling onto a short set of wooden steps. Karin tucked her shoulder and bumped down to the cement floor. The dingy old foot mat did nothing to soften her landing. She flopped over to her back and stared up through the dim interior to the high ceiling. “Aw, crap.”
But she had no sense of any real injury, so she checked the door-yup, it needed a key on this side, too-and crawled to her feet to take her first good look around, scooping up her rock along the way. Lots of old pallets and a roller spool conveyer led back to the freezer units.
Surely not. Surely they wouldn’t put a kid into such a dark, airless place. Not for any length of time.
But it was the first thing she checked anyway. She found the doors not even latched, the interior emitting permanent mustiness. Strike one, and glad of it.
She veered to the right and found an office. The customer counter window had been boarded shut, and when she nudged the unlocked door open she found a surprising sight.
A child’s bedroom. A boy’s bedroom, all bold colors and little-boy images-race-car posters on the wall, a plastic toy box at the end of the bed. Longsford’s little playroom.
But of course the boy wasn’t here. A child left unsupervised might do something to mar this perfect little cubicle of the way things were. “I’ve got news for you,” she muttered to Longsford, wherever he was. “Not even Beaver’s room was this perfect.”
She left the room as it was, knowing she had to do this as quickly as possible. “Where are you?” she called, aiming it at the high ceiling for lack of even a best guess.
The muffled cries of reply were no help. They echoed inside the building, leaving her as disoriented as she’d started. Somewhere back beyond the freezer units. She broke into a run, rounding the end of the giant freezer, and found herself confronted with a lineup of exotic machinery. Rows of it, painted a worn but cheery shade of blue. And beyond that, steel devices with tall aluminum columns, steel boxes with ominous silhouettes…
With a blink, it all came together. Dry-ice presses for the fifty-pound blocks, pelletizers, CO2 gas recovery and recycling units.
“¡Ayúdeme! ¡Ayúdeme!” The voice was high and thin and much closer now.
And speaking Spanish.
Was that how Longsford had evaded the news of another kidnapping? Chosen a family who didn’t speak English?
No, that didn’t make sense. The family could have spoken Vulcan and there’d have been a way to handle it.
Unless…
“God, you’re evil,” Karin told the absent Longsford. “Not even Saint Fillan would deal with your brand of insanity.”
Immigrants. Illegal immigrants. Afraid of the law, afraid of even those who would help them save their child. He’d had a child stolen off the streets, replacing his ideal park-snatched victim with one he knew would give him time to linger. Bastard.
“¿Dónde está usted?” she shouted, calling on marginal Spanish skills that had only ever been enough to get her by on southern California streets.
He responded even before her words died away. “¡En la jaula!”
In the…not jail. Cage. Great. To a kid locked up, anything could be a cage.
As if he sensed her urgency and frustration, he started screaming wordlessly at her. Or if there were words, she had no chance of deciphering them, even had they been in English. “¡Calma!” she shouted. “¡Calma!” As if that was going to do any good.
It didn’t.
She gave an anxious glance over her shoulder, knowing she was moving ahead only on luck…and not believing in luck at all. If you did manage a little of it, someone like Longsford came along and took it. Or someone like Rumsey.
Or someone like Karin herself.
She threaded her way through the machines, beyond the tall columns and the plastic sheeting that had served as a back wall. There were a few stray carbon dioxide containers, big gray steel cylinders she assumed would be empty. There was a pile of junk under a tarp, and an odd, puzzling area of broken concrete flooring beyond it. And there, in the corner, was a maintenance area behind a steel-mesh cage. Jaula. He’d meant just that.
He saw her and flung himself against the mesh, fingers sticking through to reach out to her. She ran to him, forgetting her Spanish. “Hey, hey there. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll get you out of there.” He clutched at her through the mesh-skinny, dressed in clothes too big, as adorable as any kid with huge dark eyes and thick black hair could ever be. No visible signs of abuse. Maybe it was too soon. God, please let it be too soon. She twined her fingers through his as best she could. “I’m gonna get you out of there. No worries. It’s gonna be okay.”
He sobbed, his grip on her hands amazingly strong. Not fearful now, unless it was fear that she might give up. Just relieved. Just looking at her with those big dark eyes shining, innocent hope blazed across his features.
Karin’s heart started racing again, catching her by surprise. Her throat seemed too big for itself and she suddenly felt strong enough to do anything. Anything.
She knew what it was like to be not-rescued. And since Dave’s arrival in her life and that one sweet moment of safety on the cliff, she knew what being rescued felt like.
But she hadn’t realized what it would feel like to be the one who came to the rescue.
She floundered for a moment. The kid’s not rescued yet, Sommers. Not with that big fat padlock still hanging from the door. She scrambled for the asphalt rock she’d dropped when she’d rushed to the kid’s side, slamming it against the stout padlock. Within a few blows the asphalt crumbled into pieces, leaving Karin with bleeding knuckles and not much else to show for her efforts. She threw the remnants away and kicked the door in disgust, if not hard enough to damage any toes. She might need those toes to finish getting them out of here.
Karin eyed the door hinges, feeling her pockets for any sign of a tool that might pry them free…racking her brains for the memory of anything she might have glimpsed on her way through the building. Her penknife would break at the first application.
Doubt crept into the boy’s expression.
“Hey,” Karin said. “I’m Karin. What’s your name, kid?”
The boy sniffled. His face was filthy from the standard mix of kid tears, snot and grime. Karin had the sudden thought that Longsford would have someone clean him up. He obviously had a backup crew who knew about his recreational activities. And someone else had probably dumped that body so carelessly, someone panicked by pressure from the feebs. Longsford had been doing this for too many years to get such a simple thing wrong.
It would explain why the ex-boxer and his pal had been so insistent at their first meeting on Ellen’s farm, and so persistent afterward. They hadn’t just been sent on a blind errand; they understood the stakes.
“Atilio,” the boy said, prodding her from her thoughts.
“Okay, Atilio. Just hang tight. I’ll think of something.”
Yeah, like a call to 911. I was just walking past, Officer, and I heard someone crying inside. So I broke into the Fortress of Solitude and I found this kid and oh, by the way, I’m outta here! And say, can you delay your arrival till I can climb my way back out of this building and make myself scarce? Leaving this terrified kid by himself till you get here?
And yet she’d already used too much time. Even if she had no reason to believe anyone would arrive so soon after the last guy had been here, she’d just taken too much darned time.
“All right,” she said out loud. “I’ve got one thing to try. If this doesn’t work, kiddo, I’ll make the call and take my chances.” She pushed away from the mesh door and went to check out the CO2 cylinders. Yep, the gauges all read empty. Just as well. She gave one an experimental heft and discovered it weighed half as much as she did. But she’d been hauling fifty-pound sacks of feed for a year now, and knew how to use leverage to her best advantage. She played with her grip on the awkward thing, knowing she’d have to rest it on her forearm behind the cast and knowing the whole exercise would be useless if she didn’t get up enough speed.
Screw breaking the lock. She’d try to warp the door enough so that skinny little kid could wiggle his way out. “¡Al revés!” she said, hoping she was telling him to move back away from the door. She gestured wildly at his hesitation and he slowly complied, clearly not quite understanding her intent. She only hoped he’d get the idea once she came charging at him with her modern-day battering ram.
And then, suddenly inspired, she pulled out her cell phone. The photos it took might not be high quality, but they’d do the trick. She snapped several of Atilio huddled in his cage, a few of the equipment to help establish location, and stuffed the phone back into the breast pocket of her field jacket, making the mental note to take pics of the creepy boy’s room on the way out.
Atilio said something querulous and Karin muttered, “Hold on, kid,” as she bent over the cylinder.
Oh. My. Gawd. Her first effort to lift the thing garnered her nothing more than a grunt. “Okay, Florentius,” she said, figuring the patron saint against ruptures was her best bet. “It’s you and me…” And with a loud grunt of effort, she got the thing off the ground, staggering back and forth as she tried to find its balance point. Her cast scrabbled against cold gray steel and she shifted the cylinder onto her forearm with no little effort-and then it started to tip forward.
Rather than lose it and start all over again, Karin mustered a warrior’s battle cry and staggered into a run. The brief image of Atilio’s startled face, the rush of looming mesh…stunning impact. She immediately lost her grip on the cylinder and flung herself sideways, out from beneath it. Her head and ears rang and when she hit the floor it wasn’t quite where she’d expected it to be.
And then, finally, silence.
She lay facedown on the cold, hard concrete, and when she opened her eyes she discovered just how dirty the floor was. Gross. Slowly, she pulled her knees beneath herself and climbed to her feet, patting herself for lumps and bumps. Everything seemed to be in its proper place. “Hey, Florentius! Way to go!” She straightened herself out and checked Atilio’s cage.
She barely had time to register that the impact of her improvised self-powered missile had indeed warped the door when he slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her low waist with all the strength of a full-grown bear. “Hey, hey!” she said, delighted; she knelt to hug him in return. “Let’s say we get the hell outta here, huh?” She stood, held out her hand to him and wasted no time navigating through the machinery and past the freezer. There she told him to wait and ducked inside Longsford’s creepy playroom, snapping a few quick phone pics.
When she emerged, Atilio was gone.
“Hey,” she said, trying not to raise her voice too loudly, or let the sudden tight anxiety come through in her voice. “C’mon, kid, where are you?”
He whimpered. She found him crouched behind the roller conveyer, and relief washed through her body in a startling wave of weakness. “Don’t do that to me, kid,” she told him, but froze as he pointed frantically at the door.
I am so not meant for slinking. She wasn’t used to checking doors or keeping an eye out for sly intrusions. She was used to being on the front line, bold as brass and running the show. It hadn’t occurred to her to check for movement at the window before emerging from the special little room.
And yeah. There it was. Movement. While she stood out in the open like a deer in the headlights. Too little too late…she dashed for the wall beside the stairs, where the angle was too sharp for anyone to see her through that window.
It occurred to her then that if Longsford’s men had arrived, they ought to be fussing about that window. They ought to be putting their keys into the lock and bursting in to take charge instead of rattling around the door in an experimental way. Huh.
She glanced over to catch Atilio’s eye and put her finger to her lips. He stared back, deer-in-the-headlights. He did, at least, stay put and stay quiet as she moved closer to the stairs…close enough to catch a muttered French phrase of badness.
She hadn’t known she could grin quite so broadly until this moment. She leaned toward the door and said, “Pssst. Hey, little boy. You wanna cheap deal on some watches?”
The door noises stopped. “Karin?”
“You got my phone message?”
“Your what-?” She caught a glimpse of his head as he shook it. “No. I’ve been keeping an eye on the tracker, just in case you went back for it. I got back into the car at the gym and saw the thing was on the move…I just followed you here. What’s going on? How the hell did you get in there?”
He’d kept an eye on the tracker. Bless you. “How about we get out of here first? I’ve got a friend with me. An unwilling young visitor, let’s say.” She paused long enough for him to work through his favorite phrase all over again, then said, “I came in through that window. I’m sure we can get Atilio out that way, but there are stairs on this side of the door…I’m not so sure I can get up to the window.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said, his words determined. The voice of a man who truly believed he could make things work if only he tried hard enough. “Did you try kicking it in?”
“I thought a little quiet glass-breaking would draw less attention,” she said, not mentioning that she didn’t think for a minute she’d get through that sturdy metal door and wasn’t so certain he could, either. “But heck, now that you’re here-have at it.” She turned back to Atilio. “It’s okay, kid. He’s our amigo.”
Atilio probably took in one word of ten from the conversation he’d heard, but her tone and manner did the trick. His frightened features relaxed, and if his eyes didn’t shine with hope, they once again showed some spark.
Wham. The impact of foot against door shook the frame, but nothing seemed inclined to break.
“Hit it at the lock,” Karin suggested, knowing just how well such suggestions were likely to go over.
“Oh, right. Hit it at the lock,” Dave said, breathless. “Hadn’t thought of that.” Wham!
“Hit it hard,” Karin offered.
“You just think if you make me mad enough, I’ll turn into the Hulk and rip it off the hinges.” Wham!
“You never know.” She waited for his response. She only got his grunt of effort, an oddly surprised sound. “C’mon,” she said after a moment. “I think it’s working. The frame is starting to crack at the-”
At the lock. Which was now turning. As in, someone on the other side was using a key.
She didn’t hesitate. She whirled around to the boy. “Atilio! ¡Oculta!” She stabbed a finger at the freezer, around and beyond, and kept her voice low. Whisper-low. “Use the manta azul-that tarp! Go! ¡Vaya, vaya!”
He scampered away and she didn’t dare follow to make sure he fully concealed himself. She reached for the big Ruger, clutching it awkwardly. At least she knew it was a double-action only. A long, steady pull on the trigger would do it. No safeties, no cocking, no nothing. She pressed herself up against the rough cement brick wall. Be wrong, self. Be oh so very wrong about who’s coming through that door…
She wasn’t wrong.
First came one of Longsford’s men, his gun out but not pointing in any useful direction unless he intended toe target practice. And Longsford himself. And someone behind him, but by then Karin thought it’d be a good idea to introduce herself. She stepped away from the wall slightly and pointed the gun at them in a two-fisted hold. “How’d you know?”
Longsford and friend stopped short, assessing her stance with the gun, the confidence on her face-and slowly coming to recognize her without her Maia wardrobe, makeup and comportment. And the eyes-light again, like Ellen’s. Surprise flickered across his features but quickly faded to cold annoyance. “Exactly who are you?”
“Did you want to guess Ellen? You can sit on that a moment, until we get ourselves sorted out. My vote is that you all drop your various little guns and back yourselves into that corner on the other side of the stairs. You can hold hands if you’re frightened.”
Longsford looked back at her with those small, flat eyes and Karin’s heart suddenly did triple beat. It could be tricky, playing layered personalities. Longsford was just the man she’d have avoided for a real scam, and this moment was the perfect illustration of why. His expression teetered on the edge of something nasty before he gave her a cold smile from that almost-handsome face with its close-set eyes. He tipped his head at the figures behind him, and they moved forward.
The ex-boxer, Diffie, had Dave’s arm slung over his shoulder, a careless support that was nonetheless the only thing still holding him up. Dave’s head lolled back, his mouth slack and his eyes rolled out of sight; blood streamed down the side of his neck.
Yet another new feeling roared through Karin’s body, rushing through her ears to drown out all other noise. Helplessness. But not for herself this time. For someone she knew. For someone she-
It wasn’t at all the same feeling. And to judge by the watery nature of her knees, not nearly as easy to fake her way through.
Diffie looked at her and grunted in satisfaction, recognizing her. With her hair hidden, her eyes their normal color and her grubby state, she probably didn’t look much different than she had at the farm. But the grunt was the closest thing to an I-told-you-so that he’d probably dare.
“This is a fine and interesting tangle,” Longsford said. “I think we’ll talk about it until I understand what’s going on.” At his infinitesimal nod, Diffie dropped his burden. Dave tumbled down the steps and sprawled there, jeans and sweatshirt picking up the dirt that Karin had already disturbed.
She almost went for him. She almost lost her advantage, lowering the gun to rush to his side. But no. I might be stupid, but I have no intention of being predictable. So she kept the gun where it was and asked, all in annoyance, “How the hell did you know I was here?”
Longsford nodded at the door. “How stupid do you think I am? This place is wired. You triggered motion detectors as soon as you came through that window.”
Karin swore resoundingly. Of course he protected this place.
Longsford’s eyes narrowed at her reaction. “You look like Ellen,” he said, scanning her up and down. “But Ellen couldn’t have hidden herself from me as you did. She wouldn’t have the nerve to have done any of this.”
“She wouldn’t,” Karin agreed. “Not to mention holding you at gunpoint.”
He responded without concern. “My men have guns trained on your friend. I don’t get the connection between you yet, but I will.” He turned to the man who’d come down the stairs first. “Make sure the boy is secure.”
“No!” Karin fine-tuned her aim at the man. “You don’t come inside any farther than this. In fact, I think you should all leave. Go away. Run. I’ll bet you’ve got a nice nest egg set up somewhere. Now’s the time to take advantage of it. Forget about disappointing Mummy and run.”
Longsford shook his head in a patronizing gesture. “We’re nowhere near that point yet. I can clean up all my problems within a few moments.” To the errand boy, he said, “Go.”
Karin took aim and pulled the trigger. Or rather, she took aim and she pulled and pulled the heavy trigger, and by the time the big gun fired her aim had shifted and the man in her sights was no longer in her sights. He leaped at her, smashing his own gun across the injured wrist.
Karin howled, a sound she’d never heard from the inside out, and her legs crumpled. She curled up around the newly injured wrist with pain roaring through her mind as loudly as the helplessness. But she still had the gun and like an animal she struck out, snarling and leaping up with her finger already on the trigger.
The man met her movement with a dead-center kick to her chest, knocking her flat backward and on top of Dave. Dave grunted at the impact but made no effort to shove her off, no attempt to mutter his smarmy French curse phrases. The gun went flying somewhere; Karin had no idea where. She coughed, hunting air, and by the time she’d gotten to her knees, Longsford had taken over. “Brad, secure the boy. Diffie, stand at the door and keep these two in and everyone else out.”
Okay, fine. They weren’t going anywhere. Not just this moment. But the game wasn’t over yet.
And Karin knew how to play it better than anyone.
First she took the time to do that which she hadn’t allowed herself to think about. Dave, limp and injured and bleeding. He was scary-still, his breathing uneven and riding the edge of a groan, but even in his motionlessness he still gave the impression that he was trying, trying hard, to leap to his feet and save the day. You would. Karin rolled him over just enough to check his head. Glass crunched just to the side of her leg-old window glass, some of it now under her shin. She found an ugly wound, split and puffy and pumping a steady stream of blood, and glared up at Longsford. “You didn’t have to hit him so hard.”
Longsford just shrugged. “I owe this man, after his many attempts to interfere with my life.”
“I don’t think he gave a damn about your life,” Karin said. She let Dave settle back into place and as clichéd as it was, put his head on her knees rather than see it rest on the hard, dirty floor. The immediate warmth of his blood soaked her jeans; her fingers, as she withdrew them, gleamed wetly. She wiped them on her jacket and glared up at Longsford. “If you hit him hard enough to kill him, the authorities won’t ever leave you alone. His brother Owen won’t leave you alone. But you probably don’t know about Owen, do you? Runs an international investigative agency? Plays with all the big boys? The feebs might be limited to pursuing you in the States, but Owen will find you wherever you go.”
Longsford appeared unimpressed. “I believe we were discussing your identity.”
Karin stared down at Dave’s golden hair, now smeared with clotty blood. She trailed her fingers down his cheek, and his eyes finally fluttered open. They weren’t anywhere near focused, and whatever he’d intended to say came out in an unintelligible grunt. “It’s okay,” she told him, though she could see he knew it wasn’t even close. She told Longsford, “Ellen was my sister. She died a year ago and I’ve been living in her name. And you can blame yourself for all this. If you hadn’t sent your errand boys down to fetch me no matter what, I’d have shrugged off Dave’s visit. But instead…” She paused, looked down to find Dave listening, struggling but understanding. He’d hear everything she had to say, as long as he didn’t pass out again. She said it anyway. “Instead, you intrigued me, and I came with him.”
The slightest of frowns etched Dave’s forehead. “Karin-”
“You should have known better,” she told him, and leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on unresponsive lips. “You really should have.”
Longsford drank it in, a control-freak alert to games of power. “You’re Karin,” he said. “You’re the sister who stayed behind with Daddy Gregg.”
“Not anymore. Dave thinks I came with him to help corner you-and in a way I did. But only because I think we can be of benefit to one another.” Okay, so it wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny. She was only buying time here. A little room to maneuver.
“Karin-” Dave again, and this time he made the effort to get up; she easily kept him down, just a hand on his chest. Still, she felt the tension in his body. Knew that he wanted to roll over, to claw his way to his feet and change everything he saw and heard.
Of course, he’d fall flat on his face if he tried.
Longsford snorted, but only to hide a sudden gleam of fascination, one that made Karin go cold and sick inside. She’d just pushed his buttons…she’d turned herself into an enigma. Into a challenge.
Into something worth controlling.
“Look,” she said bluntly. “I came for the boy so I could get your attention. Really get your attention. I’ve done that, don’t you think? And what you need to know now is that we’re both killers. You and I.”
He laughed outright. “You couldn’t even pull the trigger on that gun.”
She scowled. “It’s not my gun.” Where was the damned thing, anyway? She spotted it, finally, under the wooden stairs. Well out of her reach. “Lady scammers don’t use guns, Longsford. We’re better than that. When I killed that old couple, I did it with gas. Uncoupled their gas dryer when they thought I was in the bathroom, left a pretty scented candle burning as a gift. They just got too curious about exactly when their investments would find a return.”
“And mine?” Longsford asked, taking the news about the elderly couple in stride. “Would it ever have found a return?”
Karin shrugged. “That’s something you might learn if you decide to take me on. It was meant to bring me to your attention, and it did.”
“Take you on.” Longsford’s eyes suddenly looked flat and mean again.
“You put me in charge of your investments and I’ll make you more money than you ever dreamed. We’ve already got each other’s fail-safe, don’t we? You have your secrets, I have mine. It makes this a no-risk situation.”
“There’s the money,” he pointed out.
She grinned, all cocky confidence and ignoring the buildup of bruises and battering and the throbbing shriek of her wrist. “No risk there. Not if it’s in my hands. I don’t lose money-I make and take it.”
He snorted.
But he was intrigued. She’d seen the quick gleam of interest at the challenge of keeping her close by and under control. The thrill of doing it. The ability to thumb his nose at his mother…and all the while continue his own personal hobby.
Not that Karin had any illusions about the ultimate outcome. He’d play the game for a short while, just as he did with the boys. And when he failed to find that perfect, ultimate control, he’d kill her.
Supposing she gave him the chance.
Longsford nodded. “All right. Maybe we have a thing or two in common after all.” He looked up at the guy in the doorway. “All clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the errand boy said smartly.
“Fine. Kill Hunter, bring the boy, and we’ll go.”
“Uh-uh,” Karin told him. “He’s got nothing. He’s not going to remember this, he won’t have the boy or any evidence, and the feebs have already told him to take a hike. Just dump him somewhere. He’s already lost, Longsford. He’s not in your league.”
“And you are?” Amusement colored Longsford’s tone. His eyes had never looked more closely set.
Karin laughed. “You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” And she didn’t look down. She didn’t look to where Dave’s dazed expression broke through with hurt and betrayal, those piercing blue eyes still unable to focus but somehow perfectly able to convey his feelings.
He said, “God, Karin. This is what it was about? This?”
“You were the one who brought a wrecking ball through my life,” she told him, but she turned her face away from Longsford to hide the sudden shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I’m just doing what I have to. Always have, always will.”
This was a day in which he already believed she’d killed two old people. And if he believed that, it couldn’t be such a leap to believe she’d been using him all along.
All of it.
It wasn’t, she whispered silently to him. Don’t you even think it.
But Dave, concussed and bleeding and shocky, was in no shape to hear it.
She bent over him again, offering up a goodbye kiss. Even with his stubborn unresponsiveness, she imbued their contact with silent intent-lingering, persistent, adding a gentle touch of her tongue to his bottom lip. Trust me. Just this once. Trust me utterly. Until finally-finally-he kissed her back. Just a hint of response, still not quite believing her but at least aware something had gone unspoken. She drew back and rested her bloody finger on his lower lip, giving no sign she saw the new clarity in his gaze, not with Longsford’s eyes riveted upon the scene she created. “Fun while it lasted.”
“Take what you can get,” he said, his voice rough. But he was no longer merely a barely conscious body under her hand. Not vibrant, not unhurt…but not a limp rag doll, either. She chanced the very smallest lift of her chin, knowing it would tell him nothing but hoping to confirm the presence of those things unspoken.
Because she had no intention of going anywhere with the subhuman son of a bitch Longsford.
She removed Dave’s head from her lap, wincing when he set his mouth against pain. “You’ll be okay,” she said, as if she could feel so casual about his fate, and she tried to catch his gaze again but found he wasn’t focusing any longer.
But Longsford shifted impatiently, and something crashed beyond the freezers as the search for Atilio continued. No more time to send silent messages to a barely conscious man who wasn’t even certain of their alliance.
Now it starts. She made a show of wiping her hands free of Dave’s blood, and in the process pulled her jacket cuff over her good hand to protect it as she palmed glass onto the heavily cracked cast. Swift, decisive, no lingering. She stood, shook her shoulders out, and joined Longsford with a matter-of-fact demeanor, cocking her head to say your ball game…now what?
Interruption, that’s what. The errand boy came around the freezer and said with irritation, “There’s no sign of him.”
Longsford sent Karin a swift glare of impatience…possibly even disappointment. “I thought we were through playing games. Where is he?”
Karin applied a contemplative expression. “We-ell,” she said, drawing out the word until she gave a decisive shake of her head. She let him wait a moment longer, and said, “Nope. You can’t have him.”
His surprise was beauteous. It left him open to her attack, and she held nothing back as she shoved her handful of glass shards and splinters into his face, grinding her cast against his skin and crying out from the pain of her wrist, pushing until her hand skidded up over his eye and brow and then she wasn’t the only one bellowing.
Longsford’s hands clapped to his face as he whirled away from her, and Karin didn’t linger, didn’t cradle her wrist to her chest or bend over it to curse her own pain. She dove for the stairs, reaching between the plain wooden steps to snag her gun-Dave’s gun-already knowing she’d have to choose between Diffie above her in the doorway and the guy at the freezer. Both were armed; neither would hesitate to shoot. Stretching, she fumbled her grip on the pistol, tugged it out by a fingerhold and scrambled for the wall beside the stairs to make herself an awkward target for Diffie. Damn fool woman. What made you think you could handle a gun?
Braced against the wall, she flinched at the impact of a bullet into the drywall beside her head. But she took a breath, held the Ruger out and sighted it as though it were a rifle, and reminded herself about that long trigger pull. Something plucked at her sleeve; she ignored that, too. She aimed low and took the shot.
The Ruger discharged with a strange double explosion, and her target flinched. The gun rose with the kickback and the second time she pulled the trigger, the sights rested on the man’s breastbone.
The second time she pulled the trigger, the man went down.
She whirled to take aim at the doorway, but only in time for her target to tumble down beside her, yet another body taking a fall on those stairs. A startled glance showed her Dave propped on his side and already sagging, eyes rolling back in his head. She leaped for him, catching him before he could clonk his head on that concrete. “Some guys are so predictable,” she told him tenderly, but there was none of it on her face as she looked up at Longsford. She cradled Dave to her with her forearm while holding her gun steady. “Changed my mind, Longsford,” she said, her voice loud enough to reach him over the sound of his own unending stream of curses. “Price was too high.”
One hand still pressed to his bleeding face, Longsford finally groped for his own gun. Only belatedly did he realize she had him covered, and even then he hesitated, hand still halfway to his weapon.
“Nope. Sorry. You lose,” she told him. “And let me tell you…you’re just gonna love prison. Total loss of control.” The guards would control every tiny little part of his life, and he would control…
Nothing.
Not even himself.
Most especially not himself.
She watched the realization cross his face. She watched as he took the full impact of the press, the courts…all before he even got to prison. He looked at her with his one working eye and he said, just as coldly as ever, “You’re wrong. I can control it all.”
She’d never seen that look before, but she knew it. Utterly calm, totally defiant…and totally in control. Ready to win by losing.
She knew, even as he snatched for the gun at his side, what he intended. But she couldn’t take the chance he wouldn’t change his mind-and change his aim. She pulled the trigger on a body shot even as he jammed the barrel of his little semiautomatic against his chin and blew off the top of his head.
The building stayed silent for a long moment, or maybe it was just the ringing of Karin’s head, providing silence for her. She lowered the gun, then deliberately set it down on the floor. No one else moved. Longsford, most certainly dead…the two errand boys not likely to survive. Dave, pale and sweaty and his eyelids fluttering as he tried and failed to pull himself out of unconsciousness. Damned hard blow he’d taken, and she needed to get him help. She patted her jacket, hunting the cell phone, and discovered she’d ground a good deal of glass into her hand at the edge of the cast. “Crap,” she muttered, but she found the phone and pulled it free. The call to 911 was short and sweet, and she ignored the operator’s request that she stay on the line. She folded the phone up and tucked it into Dave’s front jeans pocket, hooking a finger into his car keys while she was at it.
By then Atilio had crept out from hiding, and she gestured him over. She hated to leave him…but then, she hated to leave Dave, too.
It wasn’t like she could stay. If she hadn’t been a killer before, she could quite rightly carry that label now. She sat Atilio beside Dave and folded the kid’s small hand over Dave’s fingers. “Ayuda viene,” she told him. “Espera.” And then, a little frantic, “Don’t tell anyone I was here!”
She bent to kiss Dave again, willing him to remember the imprint of her lips.
And then she ran.
Karin took the Maxima. She hit a drugstore in the Freddie end of the city and picked up tweezers, a magnifying glass, a wrist brace, ibuprofen and first-aid supplies. Back at the hotel she cleaned herself up, popped four ibu, took a wistful sniff of Dave’s Cardhu flask and gingerly lowered herself onto the bed to ponder her totally questionable future.
She fell asleep.
When she woke, she drove to the shore in early-evening darkness and pulled out the phone Dave had left in the Maxima. She’d turned it off as soon as she found it, figuring it would be the latest thing…figuring it would have a GPS. Its directory put her straight through to Owen Hunter, who answered the phone with startling directness. “This must be Ellen.”
It gave Karin a pretty clear picture of just how much Dave hadn’t told his brother. “More or less,” she said, tired of games, not ready for explanations. “How’s Dave?”
“Why don’t you come and see?” Owen’s voice had a dark edge to it.
She caught the implications immediately. The invitation to come forward, the threat of it-and the fact that he was here with Dave. “You came,” she breathed. “God, is he okay?”
“I’ve got a lot of questions.”
Karin took a deep breath, biting her lip on hasty words. She managed to say evenly, “Dave never mentioned that you were a cruel man.”
Owen gave a short laugh. No humor there at all. “Hairline-skull fracture. His CAT scan was normal, but his neuro exam isn’t and he sure as hell isn’t all there. He’ll be hospitalized for a few days at best.”
Karin found she wasn’t breathing; she struggled with herself. When she finally drew air it was in a hiccup of a gasp, and she moved the phone away from her mouth, tucking it against her neck. That’s not fair. It’s not right. He was only ever trying to do his best to save those kids. She heard Owen’s voice only vaguely, but knew he wouldn’t wait forever. She held the phone up and said, “I’ll call back tomorrow.”
And the next day, and the next day. However long it took.