Catch a Shadow (33 page)

“But now I can identify her,” he countered.

“She's looking for a woman. You approach her with that scowl, and she'll likely scream for help. And she won't have to scream very loud.”

He still looked dubious.

“I'll be be safe with cops all over the place. I have the gun with me. I have my pepper spray.”

“And a pin,” he added with just a little sarcasm.

“Besides, won't these police types scare off the bad guys, even if they did find out about Dallas and the meeting?”

Jake wasn't certain. Adams must be as desperate as he was.

The decision was taken from him as Kirke stepped out of the car. For the second time in his life, he was completely trapped. If he wanted what could save the rest of his life, he had to let her go. If he tried to stop her, they would be far too conspicuous.

He placed the baseball cap on his head and donned the dark glasses. Then he took the pistol and belt holster from the glove compartment and snapped it to his belt. After pulling out his shirt to cover it, he stepped out of the car. Doubly damned if he was caught carrying. As a felon, a gun was a very big no-no.

He headed toward the baseball field, passing the refreshment stand. Kirke stood there, munching on a hot dog, looking entirely at ease. Admiration flooded him. She had more damned guts than most men he knew.

He walked to the fence where family and friends had dragged up chairs to watch the game. A small bleacher section was already full. Good-natured catcalls were being exchanged as the teams warmed up.

He turned where he could watch the refreshment stand as well as see part of the field.

One woman came up to him. “Fire or police?” she asked.

“Fire,” he replied.

“Good. Would you like to join us?”

“Thanks, but I'm waiting for someone.”

The woman nodded and returned to her group. He wondered whether she could be Dallas, but the features were different, along with the age.

Then he saw a woman, man, and boy walk toward the field. The man wore the blue police uniform shirt. The boy held his hand.

He recognized the woman's features immediately. There was strength in her face and laugh lines around her eyes. Her hair was the color of rust and pulled back into a bun. Her skin was tanned against a sleeveless pink blouse and cream-colored slacks. She wore only a touch of lipstick and a simple turquoise pendant. He had the impression of a woman comfortable with herself. When they reached the fence, someone called to her, and she headed that way with the boy while the man headed toward the field.

She joined a group, sitting on one of several chairs already placed alongside the fence.

She glanced at her watch, then quickly at the refreshment stand. She whispered something to the boy, then stood.

The game started. The crowd came to their feet as the first pitch was thrown. Jake turned so he could watch the woman as well as appear interested in the game. Mac and Cole were watching Kirke.

He felt a jolt at his side, and turned, his hand instinctively going toward the holster.

Someone had bumped into him while moving a chair closer to the fence. He quickly dropped his hand.

“Sorry,” the man said.

He wore a patrolman's uniform.

“No problem,” Jake said and stepped away.

“You got someone playing?”

“No, just like baseball.”

He looked back to where the woman he thought to be Dallas was standing.

She was gone.

He whirled around to look at the refreshment stand.

Kirke was gone as well.

CHAPTER 30

Kirke ate a hot dog and drank a soda, then ordered an ice cream.

People were still walking toward the field. She looked at her watch. Five to seven. The game was probably at seven.

She took her time licking the ice cream. Her stomach was rumbling, but she obviously needed to have a reason for loitering. She tightened her hold on her purse. She unzipped it so both the pepper spray and automatic were instantly available.

She knew, though, she wouldn't fire the gun. Too many people. Too many children. Nerves started crawling up her back.

A roar came from the baseball field as a woman in a pretty coral blouse touched her. “Come with me,” the woman said.

Kirke followed her around the refreshment stand toward the restroom building. They went under a little roof and turned right into the women's room. The men's room was opposite.

Dallas checked the stalls, found them empty, then turned to her.

“I'm Dallas Crew,” the woman said.

“I'm Kirke.”

“I know. I found your photo on the Internet. The story about the sniper. I also called the fire station. They like you there.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That I was a friend, but you weren't answering calls, and I was worried about you. They told me you were taking a few days off to recuperate.” She raised an eyebrow as she studied Kirke. Powder disguised the remaining bruising around her eye, but Kirke knew it was still visible to someone with a good eye. “Doesn't look as if you're recuperating much,” Dallas added.

“A South Pacific beach would be better,” Kirke said wryly. “Thank you for coming.” She paused, then asked, “Why here?”

“My husband's a cop. He's playing tonight. You startled me today. I didn't know what to expect, but you sounded so urgent. Then you said the right words on the phone … or maybe the wrong ones: Del Cox.”

“You knew him then? As Del Cox?”

“I know it was one of the names he used. I saw the identification in his wallet when he got sloppy drunk once. I took money from his wallet to pay for a taxi, and an ID dropped out. I also knew him as Dave Lewis, which I think is his real name. I knew he was CIA, though he never said as much. Having been married to one, I recognized all the signs.

“You were close?”

“For a time after my husband's death. What happened to him? And why am I in danger?”

Kirke told her what she knew as quickly as she could. When she finished chronicling the events, she said, “We have these numbers and have no idea what they mean. Since he mentioned your name, we thought you may. You're our last chance.”

“What is the name of the man you say was accused?” Dallas asked.

“His name is Jake Kelly, but his cover name was Mitch Edwards,” Kirke said. Lying wouldn't help now. Dallas had obviously asked the question for a specific reason, and Kirke knew she was right when emotion flickered across her face.

Dallas nodded. “I might have something that can help.”

Kirke waited.

“It's at my house. I can leave in about twenty minutes. I'll meet you there.”

“Can I bring Jake?”

Another hesitation, then a nod.

“What about your husband?”

“He's out there playing. They'll be celebrating the outcome of the game, win or lose,” she said. “It's a cop thing. And a friend is taking my son for a sleepover.”

“Can you tell me anything now?”

“I want to hear from your Mr. Kelly first,” she said. She sighed. “I'll be opening a Pandora's box. I want to be sure it's worth it.”

“We'll follow you home,” Kirke said.

She interrupted. “The tall, lean hunk out at the fence your guy? The one you want to help?”

Your guy
.

Kirke didn't know how to answer that. The area was full of cops. Dallas's family was all cops.

She finally nodded. Jake had known the chance he was taking and had been willing to do it. “He met you years ago at the Enigma when he was taking some training course. He remembers you. Said you stopped a fight.”

“I stopped a lot of them.” She paused, then said. “Don't worry about me calling for help. Not now,” she said.

“Why are you doing this?”

“My first husband was an honorable guy. He died doing what he did because he loved this country. I think he would want me to help your friend.”

“It could be—”

“Dangerous? From what you told me, this Adams probably knew about me already, and certainly by now. Seems I'm in the same position as you are. Act now, or live in fear. Even my family may not be able to keep me safe.”

“I have to get back, or Jake will tear this park apart trying to find me.”

“I'll leave the park in about twenty minutes,” Dallas said as she glanced at her watch. It's seven thirty now. I'm driving a silver sedan. There's an American flag decal on it.” She gave Kirke the license plate number.

“Can I have your address, in case we get separated?”

Dallas handed Kirke a card, and Kirke glanced at it. It had her name, Dallas Crew, and under it, Web Site Design. Two phone numbers were in corners. No printed address, but she'd scribbled it down.

“Thank you,” Kirke said, a lump in her throat. She hadn't known what to expect. She put the card in the pocket of her slacks.

“I should probably thank you. I needed closure on this long ago.”

Jake made a couple of rounds around the refreshment area. No Kirke. Then he called Cole. They'd decided not to call one another unless it was necessary. Jake hadn't wanted Adams or his henchmen to realize he wasn't alone.

“I've lost Kirke.”

“She went into the ladies' room with a good-looking, redheaded lady.”

Jake visibly relaxed.

“You haven't seen anything suspicious?”

“Nope. Oh, the redhead is coming out. You stay with her while I stay with Kirke.”

Jake nodded. Dallas was probably safe here, but he still wanted to keep an eye on her until he heard from Kirke.

He returned to the fence and watched as Dallas approached the people with her son. Before she reached them, though, she made a call on her cell. Then she went over to her son, leaned down, and said something to him. They both laughed.

For the first time today, he started to relax.

Kirke waited until Dallas left.

As she turned out the door, she heard a whistle. A familiar tune. Merlin's tune.

She felt, rather than heard, someone behind her. He must have been peering out from the men's side of the building. Before she could react, the barrel of a gun pressed into her side. “If you want to live, move around the corner. Quickly.”

When she hesitated, he shoved the weapon farther into her back, and whispered in her ear, “I have a silencer. I can quite easily kill you and escape in the confusion. Don't expect your boyfriend. He's being taken care of.”

It was the latter threat that made her move. She heard the deadly intent in her captor's voice. She couldn't see him, but she knew immediately he must be Adams. She had no doubt he would do as he said.

Where is Jake?
Adams would have been expecting him, but he wouldn't know two other men were with her. Did Mac or Cole realize what was happening?

She decided to cooperate for the moment and wait for an opportunity. She took a step forward, then another.

“Faster,” he said.

Adams put his arm around her as if they were sweethearts, but the gun still pressed into her.

Kirke noticed something red on the sleeve of her attacker. Blood. She also noticed the sleeve was the color of the uniform she'd seen earlier on a park employee. Her blood chilled. Who had he killed now? Was she next?

And no wonder he had been able to get close to her. He'd probably been emptying wastebaskets, hovering around while she was inside. Maybe he even heard some of the conversation. Jake had once called him a chameleon.

He had been quick. He must have located Dallas and followed her here.

The blood on the uniform looked fresh.

“Pretend, bitch,” he said in a low voice as he forced her to move quickly around the building to its back, then to woods that backed the facility. He moved his face close to hers.

Step by step they moved among the trees toward the parking lot. She heard the motor of an automobile engine running not far away. She tried to turn her head, but he had a lock on her neck. To some, he might resemble a lover. She didn't see either Cole or Mac now. And Jake?
Someone's taking care of your boyfriend
.

Her heart pounded. She had to believe they were there.

He ducked to miss the branch of a tree, and she decided to scream. Better to be shot here than thrown into a car to an unknown fate. Maybe it would give her protectors an opportunity …

Then she heard the crunch of stones behind them. So, apparently, did her attacker. He started to turn, the gun now to her head.

Now or never. The strap of her purse was around her shoulder, the pepper spray just inches away. She purposefully caught her toe on the rise and stumbled away from him. He leaned down to grab her arm, and with the other arm free, she reached in the purse, grabbing the small canister from inside her purse.

At the same time, she heard a shout. Mac, she thought. Or Cole.

He twisted around, still holding her left arm as he aimed his gun toward the shout. She brought up the pepper cannister and sprayed.

He coughed and swore. His hand let go long enough to slap her across the face. She dropped the canister, then the gun was next to her head.

“Don't come any closer,” she heard him say to someone else, “or I'll blow her head off.”

Her head rang. She felt herself being thrown into someone else's arms. “Get her to the car.”

In the distance she heard a roar of approval from the softball field. Didn't anyone hear? Or see?
Scream
. She opened her mouth, and a hand clasped over her mouth. Her new captor was jerking her along, dragging her. They obviously wanted her alive. Her left hand was free. She took the hatpin from where she'd tucked it into the waistband of her slacks and jabbed it through the hand holding her.

He let go.

She scrambled to her feet and started to run. She heard a pop alongside a tree. This time a scream did start deep in her throat as she ran into some arms. They closed around her and threw her to the ground, a body covering hers, sheltering her.