Dead by Morning (35 page)
“I’m not sure I can explain it,” Derek told her. “But as far as I know, neither Yvette nor any of her protégés claim to be able to see into the future and predict events that haven’t happened.”
“I don’t understand all that psychic stuff.”
“Psychic talents are like any other talents, no one person can do everything. Just as other people are sculptors or painters or writers or musicians, these people have specific gifts, too, and it all falls under one heading.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“And it is my understanding that Yvette strictly forbids her students to intrude on the private thoughts of others. She’s trained them to control any mind reading or empathic abilities.”
Maleah laid her head back on Derek’s shoulder. “Do you think the killer could be one of the guards?”
“Possibly.”
“I refuse to believe that the killer could be one of the agents,” she said adamantly.
“I think at this point, the only people we can rule out completely are you and me, Griff and Nic, and Yvette, Sanders, and BJ.”
“It doesn’t make sense. What possible reason would anyone have to kill Shiloh? Why her?”
Maleah burrowed closer into Derek, as if she could draw strength from his body. He stroked her silky hair and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.
“I’ve given it a great deal of thought,” Derek told her. “And the only thing that makes sense is that Linden or York or whoever is running this horror show forced one of the guards or one of the agents to kill.”
“How could he force them to kill against their will?”
“I’m not sure. He would need some type of leverage.”
“A threat, maybe.” She lifted her head. Her gaze locked with Derek’s. “If he has threatened to harm someone they love, a member of their family, then that type of threat would be some mighty powerful leverage, wouldn’t it?”
Luke had gone through three traffic circles and headed due north from St. Albans, straight toward the next village—Harpenden. And that’s where they had been for the past few hours, driving up one street and down another.
Hunting.
Up High Street until it turned into Luton Road. Then they had back-tracked toward town, taking side streets to investigate every psychic twitch Meredith had. Vaughn Road. Leyton Road. Bower’s Parade. And all the while, they had both been on the lookout for a black Mercedes.
Searching.
“It’s nearly midnight,” Luke told her. “I say we call it a night, check into a hotel and get a fresh start in the morning.”
“No, Luke, please. I know I’m not wrong about this. I know they’re here somewhere. We can’t give up.”
“We’re going around in circles now,” he said. “I’m surprised the local police haven’t stopped us to ask what the hell we’re doing. I saw what looked like a really nice hotel right off High Street, someplace called Eagle Glenn Manor.”
“Another thirty minutes,” she pleaded. “Take one of the roads leading out of town. I think if they were in town anywhere, I’d have sensed it by now.”
“Thirty more minutes isn’t going to matter. I’m tired. You’re exhausted. I don’t think you’ll last another thirty minutes.”
Disregarding her pleas for them to continue tonight, Luke headed for the hotel. Just as he turned off High Street onto Townsend Lane, his phone rang. He pulled into the hotel car park and stopped.
Meredith stared at him, her eyes suddenly bright with speculation, as if she knew the call was important. Or maybe she just hoped it was.
“Yeah, Sentell here.”
“We’ve got an address,” Mitchum said, then gave Luke the information. “It’s about a mile outside Harpenden. From the real estate photo, it’s a small cottage situated in a wooded area that is fairly secluded.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“The house was rented by a Zachary Fairweather for an entire month.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Meredith tugged on Luke’s arm. “He’s here, isn’t he? He’s in Harpenden or somewhere close-by.”
“Go ahead and put everything into play on your end. I’ll take it from here,” Luke told Mitchum. “And thanks.” He turned to Meredith. “I’ll check us into the hotel and get you settled before I leave.”
“Damn it, Luke Sentell, you’re crazy if you think you’re leaving me behind. I’m going with you.”
“Like hell you are.”
“Like hell I’m not.”
“I have a job to do, and your coming along for the ride will only complicate matters. Do you understand?”
“There is a child involved. When you rescue her, she’s going to be very, very scared. It will make things easier for her if I’m there, because I’m a woman and she’s more likely to trust me than you.”
As much as he hated to admit it, her lopsided logic made a weird kind of sense. “No way. You can do your nurturing female thing when I bring the child back here with me.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean that I’m going with you and that’s that.”
“Meredith, I can’t do my job and worry about something happening to you.”
“I swear that I will stay in the car, with the doors locked. I’ll even lie down in the floorboard and hide if you want me to.”
“We’re wasting time arguing.” He held up his index finger and wagged it in her face. “You will stay in the car and out of my way, no matter what you hear or see.”
“I swear I will.”
“And when I bring the child out to the car, you will not ask me any questions about what happened.”
“I won’t. I swear.” She looked him square in the eye. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”
Luke didn’t answer. He put their vehicle in reverse, drove out of the car park and back onto Townsend.
Chapter 35
Luke parked the Volvo sedan on the side of the road, about a hundred yards down from the driveway leading up to the rental house. When he had driven by, he hadn’t seen any sign of a vehicle. More than likely the black Mercedes was parked behind the cottage. He opened the driver’s door, got out, leaned over and looked back at Meredith.
“Stay put.”
She nodded.
He rounded the side of the car, popped open the trunk, and retrieved his MK23 OWSH, a .45 caliber pistol, a laser aiming module, and a sound and flash suppressor.
Meredith opened the passenger door. Damn it, what part of “stay put” hadn’t she understood? He reached the open door before she had a chance to move.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“I’m not getting out,” she told him. “I just want to tell you . . . to say . . . please be careful.”
Shit! Bringing her along had been a huge mistake, a real lapse of judgment on his part. But in his own defense, he had given in to her pleading to avoid having to knock her out and tie her up. He had known some stubborn women in his life, but none as obstinately bullheaded as Meredith Sinclair.
“Close the door and lock it. And whatever you do, don’t leave the car while I’m gone.”
“Where did you get the gun?” she asked.
“Good God, woman, what a question. I brought it with me. Now close the damn door.”
He couldn’t worry about Meredith and do his job. If she followed orders, she should be safe.
Creating a path through the wooded area to the left of the cottage, he made his way toward the backyard. Just as he had thought, the black Mercedes was parked at the back of the house and couldn’t be seen from the road. The cottage doors and windows would be locked, but with no security system, breaking and entering would be a piece of cake. However, if Linden was expecting him, he could easily be opening a door to his own death. There was a root cellar which could be booby trapped, just as the doors and windows might be.
With weapon drawn, Luke circled the cottage. He peered into the windows, one by one, and found every room as dark as pitch, except what appeared to be a bedroom at the back of the house. A dim light glowed softly on one wall, probably a nightlight plugged into a wall outlet.
Luke swallowed.
This would be the child’s bedroom.
If he could get her out of the house first . . .
Not an option. Too risky.
Keeping the child safe was his number one priority.
He woke with a start, his heart pounding and a rush of adrenaline pumping through his body at breakneck speed. Sitting up in bed, the lightweight cover falling to his hips, he listened for any sound that might have caused him to wake so suddenly.
Silence.
The only sound he heard was his own breathing.
He shoved back the covers, got up, slipped his bare feet into his Italian leather loafers, and reached for his SIG on the bedside table. Not taking time to put on his pajama top, he walked quietly out of his bedroom and moved carefully down the narrow hall to the child’s room. She lay curled in a fetal ball, the sheet and blanket kicked to the foot of the bed. He scanned the room, from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling. The old house had no closets and the wardrobe in that room was too small to provide a hiding place for an adult.
The room was clear.
Vigilant to any sound or movement, he walked into the room and over to the bed, and then reached down and gently shook the child.
“Wake up,” he whispered.
Her eyes flew open. She stared up at him. When she opened her mouth, he knew she was going to scream. He clamped his hand over her face, covering her mouth and chin.
“Be quiet and I won’t hurt you,” he told her. “I’m going to take you out of bed now and carry you with me. Be good. Don’t fight me. If you’re not a good girl, you will be very sorry.”
He snatched her up and out of the bed. While keeping a tight grip on his pistol, he maneuvered her to his left side and balanced her with one arm.
Pausing for a moment, he heard nothing, saw nothing. And yet he knew someone was in the house. Years of training had honed his senses.
He couldn’t understand how someone had managed to find them. An alias had been used at Heathrow. Zachary Fairweather. His employer had rented the Mercedes and the cottage under that name. How had someone connected Anthony Linden to Zachary Fairweather?
It wasn’t possible.
And yet someone had tracked him.
Someone had been sent to rescue the child.
Who was the only person who knew where the child was being held?
Malcolm York!
The son of a bitch had set him up. But why?
Regardless of his employer’s reasons for betrayal, he had no intention of dying tonight. Survival first He would use the child as a bargaining chip or if necessary a shield. He’d take care of York later.
When he walked toward the open bedroom door, intending to close it, he sensed danger all around him. But he could not pinpoint the presence of another person other than the trembling child he held against his body. He would wait there, in the bedroom, for his attacker to strike. Depending on the other man’s skills, he should have a fifty/fifty chance of survival. Just as he reached out to close the bedroom door, a bullet zipped through the darkness and entered the front of his head.
The bullet had severed his brainstem, killing him immediately. Luke came out of the shadowy hallway, grabbed the screaming child as Linden slumped down onto the floor. He hoisted the little girl up and onto his hip.
“It’s all right, honey. You’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you. I’m taking you home to your mommy and daddy.”
She stopped screaming and stared at Luke with a pair of huge blue eyes.
He carried her out of the bedroom, down the hall and straight through the front door. “There’s a very nice lady waiting in my car. I’ll take you to her, okay? She will look after you while I make a couple of phone calls, and then you and I and the nice lady are going to leave here and we’ll take you home as soon as we can.”
As if instinctively believing she could trust Luke, she wrapped her little arm around his neck and held on tightly as he rushed across the front lawn and down the road to the Volvo. The minute Meredith saw him coming, she opened the car door and jumped out.
Damn it. What did I tell her? Stay in the car.
He and Meredith exchanged glances as she held out her arms to the little girl. “Come here, sweetie.”
The child went to Meredith somewhat reluctantly.
Luke turned and walked away several feet.
Before Meredith closed the car door, she spoke to the child again. “I’m Meredith Sinclair. Who are you?”
Too far away to hear the child’s whispered response, Luke immediately contacted Mitchum, who told him he already had a cleanup crew en route and they would take care of everything there at the cottage. Luke’s second phone call would be to Griff. He checked his watch, an MTM Black Patriot, noted it was ten till one and calculated the time difference.
Just as he started to make the call, Meredith opened the car door and called his name. “Luke?”
“What?”
“Please come here. There’s something you need to hear.”
Luke stomped over to the side of the Volvo. The child sitting in Meredith’s lap looked up at him.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Luke is one of the good guys. Tell him what you told me. Tell him your name.”
“My name is Jaelyn,” she said. “Jaelyn Allen.”
The name reverberated inside Luke’s head.
Allen. Allen. Allen.
Allen. Allen. Allen.
“Good God.” Luke knelt down in front of Jaelyn and forced a fake smile. “Do you know someone named Michelle Allen?”
The child’s face lit up the moment he mentioned the trusted Powell agent’s name. “That’s my aunt Chelle.”
Derek shared after-dinner drinks with Griff and Sanders in Griff’s study. Dinner had been sandwiches and chips served in the kitchen, which had given them all a chance to wind down as much as possible after a grueling day. For the past half hour, ever since the men had left the ladies in the kitchen, their conversation had been limited, as if they didn’t know what else there was to say. Sanders had poured their drinks and although he had not told Griff that one drink should be his limit tonight, he had given Griff a stern look as he handed him a second glass of Scotch whisky. Derek had noticed that, like him and Sanders, Griff had leisurely sipped on his first drink.
“Our not talking about the situation won’t change it,” Griff finally said, breaking the strained silence.
“No, of course not,” Sanders agreed. “But perhaps any more discussion should be postponed until tomorrow. It has been a very long and trying day for all of us.”
“Before we call it a night, I’d like to run a thought or two by y’all,” Derek said.
Griff eyed him, curiosity in his hard gaze. “A thought about what?”
“About who may have killed Shiloh,” Derek replied.
Sanders squinted his almond-shaped eyes and focused directly on Derek. “You think you know who the murderer is?”
“No, I can’t name the killer, but I believe there is only one reason either a guard here at Griffin’s Rest or one of the Powell agents would kill Shiloh Whitman.”
“I think we all agree that it had to be someone inside Griffin’s Rest, someone we trusted.” Griff heaved a heavy, labored groan. “I’ve tried to fight accepting the truth, but that one thought has been in the back of my mind all day.”
“Maleah and I discussed the possibility that the person who calls himself Malcolm York is the mastermind behind all the murders. And this man found a way to force a Powell guard or an agent to kill Shiloh. He’s using some type of blackmail to—”
Griff’s cell phone rang. He let out a few choice curse words.
“It’s probably Sheriff Fulton.” Griff got up and walked across the room to where his phone lay atop his desk. He picked up the phone, glanced at it, and said, “It’s not Fulton.” And then he answered the call. “Luke?”
Derek watched as Griff listened, his face growing darker with each second and his body visibly tensing.
“Charter a jet,” Griff said. “You and Meredith bring the child back to the U.S. as soon as possible. I’ll call her parents in Paducah to let them know their child is safe. And we’ll handle things here at Griffin’s Rest.”
Griff laid the phone on the desk. He looked at Derek and then at Sanders. “Linden is dead.” He paused for a moment. “Linden kidnapped Michelle Allen’s niece.
He had the child with him when Luke arrived. She’s safe.”
“We have to find Michelle,” Derek said. “She needs to know that her niece is all right.”
“Yes, and after that, we will have to deal with what Michelle has done,” Griff told them.
When Nic came out of the bathroom, the test stick in her hand, Maleah rose from where she sat on the edge of Nic’s bed.
“Well, are you or aren’t you?”
Nic hurried toward Maleah, tears in her eyes, and held out the stick to show her. “It’s positive. I’m pregnant.” She grabbed Maleah and hugged her. “I’m really pregnant. I had just about given up hope of our having a baby.”
Maleah grasped Nic’s trembling hands, took the test stick from her and laid it on the nightstand. “Have you been experiencing any symptoms? Didn’t you suspect you might be pregnant?”
Nic shook her head. “I guess I’ve ignored the symptoms and chalked them up to nerves, which is understandable considering the stress we’ve been under for several months now. But when I missed my period again, I began to wonder.”
“Good thing you already had a test kit.”
“Yes, it was, wasn’t it. Remember I bought several of them about six months ago when I thought I might be pregnant. But it turned out that I wasn’t pregnant then.”
“But you are now.” Maleah grabbed Nic’s hands again and squeezed. “You’ve got to tell Griff as soon as possible. He’ll be thrilled.”
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