Gone Missing (12 page)

“We still don't know how Fiona got mixed up in all that,” Clay said. “We need to figure out who she's running from. And where she'd go.”

Joslyn shook her head. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

“We do need to figure those things out, but more importantly, we have to figure out how these men are tracking us.”

“The car...”

“We borrowed it from a friend of a friend of a friend. Do you really think they managed to tag it?”

No, he didn't.

She continued, “If we don't lose those leeches, we can't go looking for Fiona. Because we'll just lead them right to her.”

TWELVE

I
t was three hours back to Sonoma, and the entire time, Joslyn mentally reviewed everything they had with them, and everything they'd done, trying to figure out how these men could be right on their heels.

“It's got to be a multiple-car team tailing us,” Clay said. He had to speak louder than normal because Bobby's truck had a massive engine that made its presence known.

“If that's true, they could have taken us out on the freeway. There's no one else out at this time of night.” Joslyn gestured to the empty highway, where only a few pinpricks of light could be seen from the oncoming cars in the opposite lane, and the one set of taillights ahead of them. “How long do you think it took between the time we parked in Bobby's yard and when Met and G started up his driveway?”

“At least ten minutes. Maybe more.”

“If it was a multiple-car team, they could have gone up that driveway sooner and had the drop on us when we were walking around Bobby's cabin.”

“But after the hospital, we changed out everything. Clothes, phones, car.”

“Maybe they planted something on us after the hospital.”

“They didn't come in contact with us until LA,” Clay said.

Suddenly she remembered the look on Met's face as he glanced at her just before walking into the hospital elevator. He'd been on Clay's floor.

“Your cast,” she whispered.

“Met didn't get into my hospital room.”

“He didn't get in the room, but I wasn't there when the doctor and nurse put the cast on. They asked us all to leave.”

“There's a GPS tracker in my cast? It would fit?” He looked at his arm again. “I don't even feel it. You'd think I would have noticed it when the nurse was casting me.”

“We know these guys are financed. They could find a GPS tracker small enough with a good enough battery.”

“We can just wait until the battery runs out, right?”

“It's probably only broadcasting the signal once every few minutes,” Joslyn said. “The battery could last days. Weeks.”

“You want to take off my cast?”

“I couldn't, but Shaun's wife is a nurse.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let's do it.”

He was fearless. In fighting Met and G each time, he had the kind of courage she'd only read about. She began to wonder if perhaps he didn't frighten her, like Tomas had, so much as startle her. Everything he'd done had been to protect her.

No, everything he'd done had been to help someone who could help him find his sister. There had been moments he'd looked as though he was attracted to her, but he never went any further. He backed away, or she did. It was as if both of them knew that getting involved wasn't a good idea.

She had to remember that. She didn't want strength, or charm, or excitement. Maybe it would be best if she went looking for someone boring, unemotional.

Except she'd never been attracted to men like that. She'd been attracted to charismatic men like Tomas. To strong, charming men like Clay.

She just didn't trust herself anymore. Maybe she never would.

It was past midnight, but Joslyn took out her cell phone and, using her Bluetooth headset, called Liam. “I need a favor from your sister-in-law, Monica.”

“Are you guys all right?” There was an edge of alarm in his voice.

“We're fine, we're fine.” She should have realized he'd be worried when she asked for a nurse. “I want to take off Clay's cast. I think maybe it's got a GPS tracker in it.”

There was a thoughtful silence. “That's a big maybe. You might reinjure his arm.”

“Everything we got after the hospital was new— including the cast. But the cast is the only thing we didn't check for a tracker.”

“Okay,” Liam said finally. “I'll call her. How far away are you?”

“About two hours.”

He groaned. “She's going to kill me. Meet us at my dad's house.”

“If there is a tracker, is that wise?”

“There'll be four O'Neills with shotguns. I think it'll be okay.”

She hung up and told Clay, who frowned fiercely. “I don't like it.”

“I can testify that the O'Neills can take care of themselves.”

“I don't like not knowing the kind of house and how defensible it is.”

She started listing the description, as she remembered it. “Two-story. Overhanging back deck on the second floor. Motion-sensing floodlights. About one-acre backyard, landscaped with flowers and bushes, a few trees.”

Clay surprised her by laughing. In fact, he laughed so hard that he almost folded in half where he sat on the passenger side.

“What's so funny?” she demanded.

“Not funny. Ironic, I guess.” He snickered again. “I would've liked working with someone like you in Chicago.”

“Not sure that's a compliment.”

“You're smart, observant, logical. Concise.”

She wasn't sure how to respond to that. “Um...thanks,” she said after an awkward silence.

“Doesn't anyone compliment you?” He looked offended for her.

When Tomas had complimented her, it was on her face, her body, her clothes, her smile. Later in the relationship, he'd complained that she was too geeky and analytical—he wanted her to be more “feminine.”

The guys in her classes either saw her as competition, or one of the guys, or both. Liam and Elisabeth saw her as herself, but they were also protective because of what she'd been through last year.

Clay...he made her feel powerful. And confident. And beautiful.

“I'm just not very good at accepting them,” she said.

“Sorry, did I embarrass you?”

She shook her head, and too late realized it looked as if she actually was embarrassed. Sometimes she was such a dork.

“You're such a geek.” Tomas's lip curled as he studied her.

She shoved the memory away. She never had to see him again.

Clay reached all the way over with his right hand to touch her left wrist. “Don't rub your scar,” he said.

As usual, Joslyn hadn't realized she was rubbing it.

But it was too late—the remembrance of Tomas had caused a chunk of ice to lodge itself in her chest. She was quiet for the rest of the drive.

When they got to Sonoma, she drove toward the O'Neill family home. Shaun and his wife, Monica, were living there and taking care of Shaun's father, Patrick, who'd just completed his last round of chemo treatments a few months ago. Liam's duplex rental had sustained damage last year and he'd moved into the family home while he saved up to buy some property and build a house.

Clay's frown grew fiercer as they drove up to the house and parked in front. “I don't like this.”

“I heard you the first ten times you said that.” Joslyn unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.

“We're leading those men directly to Liam's family.” Clay slammed the door a bit harder than necessary. “If they're like my guys were, they'll have gotten reinforcements this time.”

“Shaun is former border patrol. Liam is ex-military. Patrick is a Vietnam War veteran. If Elisabeth is there, she has the best aim out of all of them. They're not exactly helpless.” There were several cars parked in the large circular driveway, and she recognized the dark sedan. “And Liam called Detective Carter, too.”

He looked grudgingly appeased. Joslyn thought she knew why he was being like this—he didn't like seeing others hurt. He didn't want to be the reason anyone got hurt.

And that reason might be embedded in his cast.

They were all in the living room sipping coffee, the three O'Neill men, Monica, Detective Carter and Elisabeth. And another man she didn't know. She could sense Clay tensing beside her, and she laid a gentle hand on his arm.

Monica came forward first, so Joslyn said, “Clay, this is Shaun's wife, Monica.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook Clay's hand. “This is my cousin, Dr. Geoffrey Whelan,” Monica introduced the stranger. “He works at my free children's clinic. I wasn't comfortable taking the cast off myself, so I called him.”

Geoffrey had a calm, strong demeanor, and he shook their hands. Up close, she could see he had the slightly exotic features of someone half-Asian, just like his cousin, but Joslyn couldn't see much of a family resemblance.

“You're okay taking this off?” Clay half raised his cast.

There was a glint in Geoffrey's eye. Joslyn realized that he knew Clay was testing him, challenging him. “According to Liam, you've been followed, attacked and shot at. If there's a GPS tracker in that thing, I have no problem taking it out.”

“How do you take a cast off, anyway?” Joslyn asked.

“I brought some equipment from the clinic,” Geoffrey said.

“Dealt with a lot of broken bones before?” Clay asked.

“I was in Japan when the tsunami hit and I was there for several years on medical missions. Trust me, I've seen everything.”

That impressed Clay. He tilted his head, as if in acknowledgment.

“Clay, this is my father-in-law, Patrick.” The man shook Clay's hand.

Then Patrick put his arm around Joslyn. “Hello, m'girl.” He had almost adopted her like one of his own children since she'd come to Sonoma to work for his son. It had helped ease the loss of her own dad. “I see you're not staying out of trouble.”

“You should talk,” she teased him. “I heard you tried getting up on the roof last week.”

“Completely exaggerated,” he said.

Behind him, Monica shook her head violently and mouthed,
Not exaggerating.

“Besides, I only wanted to watch Shaun, Liam and Brady out on the lawn. They were doing that wrestling stuff,” Patrick continued.

“You wanted to shoot the water cannon at us, Dad,” Liam said dryly. “And it's not wrestling, it's mixed martial arts.”

“Clay, here, is supposed to be pretty good.” Shaun threw some mock jabs at Clay. “We'll wait until you're healed up. That way you can't claim it's your injury when we make you tap out.”

Clay grinned. “Bring it.”

Detective Carter yawned and exited the room, followed by Geoffrey, and Monica said, “Enough trash talking. Geoff's got to go to work in a few hours. Clay, why don't you—”

Suddenly, the darkness outside the windows lit up in a blaze of white light. They all froze for a second.

Shaun's brows drew low over his eyes. “The yard floodlights are motion-sensitive.”

Then a gunshot cracked through the night.

* * *

There was a small spray of sparks, and one of the outside lights went out.

“Down! Everyone down!” shouted Detective Carter. He dragged Patrick onto the floor even as he pulled out his cell phone to call for backup.

Clay moved toward Joslyn and shoved her to the ground, half covering her with his body.

“Oof! What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Stay down.” There were more bullets, and he could hear thuds against the wood of the overhanging deck.

“They're trying to take out the outdoor floodlights attached to the deck,” Shaun said.

“Gun cabinet,” Patrick said as he crawled toward the far side of the living room. Liam and Shaun followed him, but Detective Carter crouched low and opened the glass door onto the second-story deck. He dropped to his belly and scooted to the edge, firing his gun out into the yard. “There's four of them!” he called back to them.

There was a tinkle of glass as another floodlight went out.

Clay wanted to roar with frustration. Because he'd been in prison, he wasn't allowed the use of a firearm. He looked around the room and spotted a massive orange handheld searchlight charging in the corner.

He dived for it, unplugged it, then darted out to the deck, crawling on his stomach next to Detective Carter. He turned on the light and a blazing white beam shone down onto the manicured lawn.

There was movement to his right, in the area darkened by a broken floodlight, and he swung the flashlight toward it. A man froze, temporarily blinded. It was one of the men from the BART platform, the one who had grabbed Joslyn.

“Police!” Detective Carter shouted. “Drop your weapon!”

The man raised his gun at the light, and Clay.

Detective Carter's gun rang out, and the man flinched and ducked behind a bush.

The detective grunted. “Missed,” he muttered.

Suddenly Joslyn was next to him with another orange searchlight.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“I'm not a good shot with a rifle,” she said calmly.

“Get back inside.”

“No way.” She flipped on the light and shone it down into the yard.

Another shot from the men in the yard hit one of the slats of the wooden railing around the deck. Joslyn, Clay and Detective Carter ducked as splinters rained on them.

“Get inside!” Clay roared at her.

“Shut up and cover the yard!” she yelled back.

She spotlighted another man who was trying to sneak into the house. It was G. As soon as he was exposed, he leaped away, looking for cover, except there wasn't any nearby. He raced back toward a row of planters.

Suddenly Clay noticed Patrick, Monica and Geoffrey all on their stomachs on the deck, aiming rifles out at the yard. “Get off my property!” Patrick yelled, and fired.

It seemed they weren't aiming to kill or injure, but the shots fired into the ground began herding the attackers back and away from the house.

The men were no match for three rifles and one handgun. Two of them suddenly raced away to the far end of the property, out of range of the searchlights.

“Hey!” one of the remaining men shouted to them, but they didn't pay attention. After a moment, that man turned and ran after them.

“The neighbor's access road is that way.” Patrick pulled out his cell phone. “I'd better warn them.”