Hunting Eve (19 page)

Different, but she couldn’t embrace this degree of difference.

“It’s okay, Kendra,” Margaret said gently. “I understand. I’ve thrown you off-balance. You’re probably angry at yourself, too. You’re having trouble figuring me into your world as you know it.” She smiled. “And you like me, which makes it harder.”

Kendra did like her. But she didn’t like her seeing that deeply into what she was feeling. “I don’t need you to understand me. You’re making me feel like that German shepherd you were chatting with. What’s her name? Kelly?”

“Carlie.” Margaret chuckled. “And I don’t chat. I told you that it’s only—” Her smile vanished. “Uh-oh.” She was looking toward the house, where she had just caught sight of the young police officer. “Trouble?”

“No,” Kendra said. “Don’t say anything. Let me handle it.”

“Whatever you say,” she murmured. “But he looks very nice and … malleable. I could probably—”

“No,” Kendra said firmly, as they stepped into the illumination of the outdoor lights. She smiled at Officer Rollins. “Margaret Douglas.” She gestured to Margaret. “She’s with me. We’re almost done here.”

The officer nodded. “ID, ma’am?”

“Sure.” Margaret reached into her pocket.

Don’t let her pull out Jane’s ID, Kendra prayed.

Margaret smiled as she handed the officer her passport. “That’s all I have. I’m new here in the U.S. The FBI brought me over here as a consultant.”

“How do you like it here?”

“Some parts are better than others. I love your Colorado.” Her smile widened. “I bet you do, too.”

He glanced down at her passport. “Greatest place in the world.” He handed it back to her. “Welcome to Goldfork.” He turned back to Kendra, his gaze going to the crowbar she had grabbed when she ran out of the shed. “Uh … anything I can help you with?”

“I’m not sure yet. If there is, I’ll call down to you.”

“You’re not going to—You’ll be careful not to disturb anything?”

“Forensics is through with the house, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. But a crowbar is … I guess you know what you’re doing.”

“I do know. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful not to do any permanent damage.”

The officer nodded uncertainly and stood watching as Kendra and Margaret entered through the back door.

Margaret practically ran to keep up with Kendra’s purposeful strides as they made their way across the living room. “He’s wondering what you’re going to do with that crowbar.”

“He certainly was,” Kendra said.

“So … what are you doing with the crowbar?”

“I suspect I’ll be tearing apart a piece of this house.”

“Oh, okay.” Margaret looked around. “Any piece in particular?”

“Yes.” Kendra led Margaret up the staircase and stopped at the landing. She pointed to four decorative wood panels that lined the wall’s lower eighteen inches. “One of those.”

“They’re beautiful. Why?”

“Because Doane recently made at least one of those using that lathe we just saw. The Feds think he may have hidden something here, but they haven’t been able to find it. It would be tough to find if he’d made a hidden panel into the wall, wouldn’t it?”

Margaret crouched in front of the four panels. “They’re all the same.”

“You mean they look the same. The way things look is only part of the story.” Kendra gently ran her fingers over the panels, then stopped when she reached the third one. She moved on to the fourth for a moment, then retreated back. “It’s this one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The fresh varnish gives it a different texture. The others have hardened for years, but this one is slightly tacky.”

Margaret ran her fingers across the panels. “I can’t feel any difference.”

“Trust me, there is.” Kendra pushed on the various contours of the panel’s carved surface. “It seems a little medieval to think there may be a special catch that opens the secret panel, but Doane obviously had enough skill to pull it off.”

Margaret pressed on the panel. “It could be a combination of things.”

“You’re right. But I don’t want to spend all night here playing with this.”

“Which explains the crowbar.” Margaret smiled. “Would you mind if I took the first swing?”

Kendra studied her. Margaret seemed almost giddy with anticipation. “Uh, sure. Why?”

“Because you promised that nice police officer downstairs that you wouldn’t do any lasting damage with that crowbar. I didn’t promise anything.”

“I could be careful and not destroy it.”

“But that’s not what I want.” Margaret took the crowbar from Kendra’s hand. “I’ve learned what a terrible person Jim Doane must be. He took Eve, and he’s responsible for Jane’s being shot. And then there are all those children … There has to be justice. I want him punished. I want him to suffer.” She looked back at the panel. “And I know how hard he must have worked on this. It would be my pleasure to destroy it.”

“Have you heard of ‘It’s the art, not the artist’?”

“Of course. But I don’t believe it. Any art is an expression of the soul, and if the soul is ugly, I have no use for the art. No matter how beautiful it may appear.”

Kendra gazed at her for a long moment. Before she had only been aware of Margaret as the soft, glowing girl who seemed to radiate sunlight and humor. That was not this woman.

Tough. Very tough.

Kendra stood and gestured toward the wood panel. “In that case, knock yourself out.”

Margaret reared back with the crowbar and swung with all her might.

*   *   *

HE’D RATHER DIE THAN LIVE
in this suburban nightmare, Blick thought.

He was parked down the street from Jim Doane’s home, and there had been an endless parade of minivans and SUVs, each packed with kids bathed in the glow of backseat video monitors. What kind of job would he have if he were one of those SUV-driving dads? Gun salesman? Construction foreman? Cop? All decidedly less lucrative than being a hit man. Yet he might have ended up in a place like this if he hadn’t met Kevin. Kevin had shown him how to live with power and independence. Kevin had taken him under his wing and given him the world to play with.

And they had killed him. Blick felt the tears sting his eyes as they always did when that sorrow and bitterness overcame him.

Forget it. He had a job to do. Though this job was not worthy of a man trained by Kevin. He felt like an overqualified errand boy at the moment. Doane could have called the kid next door to retrieve the package, for all the challenge this was going to present. There were no assault weapons, no attack dogs, no teams of federal agents swarming the place. Just one pathetic local cop passing the time on his mobile phone, probably catching up on Facebook or some moronic game.

Blick climbed out of the car and flipped the switch on the cigarette-pack-sized mobile jamming device tucked into his jacket pocket. He smiled at the cop as he approached the house. “Good evening, Officer.”

The officer glanced up from his phone. “May I help you?”

“I’m Gary Deacon, ATF.” He flashed a badge. “I was supposed to get here this morning, but I got held up. I’ll go inside for a quick look, then—”

“Wait.” The officer squinted at the badge. “Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms? You’re not on my list.”

“Like I said, I was supposed to be here this morning.” He glanced at the cop’s badge on his shirt. “Officer Rollins.”

“Makes no difference.” Rollins’s jaw set stubbornly. “If you’re not on the list, then I can’t—”

“It might have come through yesterday or the day before. Is there another list someplace?”

The officer opened his book and scanned the pages. “No. You’re actually the first ATF agent we’ve had.”

Blick cursed. “Look, it’s been a long day. How about I just go in, take a look around, and I’ll get on my way.”

“Hold on. I’ll make a call.” The cop opted out of his e-mail and punched a phone number.
NO NETWORK CONNECTION
appeared on the screen. “Weird. I’ve been getting four bars all day.”

“Here. Use mine.” Blick pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. “Damn. No signal for me either.” He sighed. “Come on, buddy. I have to be on a plane to Washington in the early AM. You can even come in with me if you want. I just need to tell my boss that I looked the place over and that there’s no evidence of a weapons stash.”

“Weapons stash?”

“Yeah, that was in one of the earliest reports about this guy. None of the other agents have seen anything like that, but I just need to take a look for myself so that we can close our file. If you can’t get your department on the phone, I’d appreciate it if you could just cut me a break. Ten minutes is all I need.”

The officer was obviously torn. Rollins stared at his phone screen for another long moment before looking up. “I wish I could help. I’m sorry.”

Blick nodded. “I know. Procedures.” He put his phone into his inside jacket pocket. “It doesn’t matter. It would only have bought you a few more minutes anyway.” He pulled out his gun. Before the cop could react, Blick jammed the barrel into his chest.

He pulled the trigger twice.

*   *   *

KENDRA LOOKED UP SHARPLY.
“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” Margaret was on her knees, pulling out the splintered chunks of wood that had been the carved landing panel. “I heard … something. Kind of a…” She thought about it. “Pop.”

“It came from out front.” Kendra didn’t want to tell her what she thought that sound might be. She had heard it before. She shined her phone light into the broken panel. “Quick. Is there anything in there?”

“A little to the left.” Margaret was peering into the opening. “I think—yes!” She reached in and pulled a small, tattered, cardboard box secured by rubber bands. “It looks fragile. I’ll hold it while you open it and see what—”

“No time. Let’s get downstairs and go out the back—” She stopped as a flashlight beam suddenly jutted through the large landing window, illuminating Kendra and Margaret.

And the tattered box in their hands.

“Go!” Kendra whispered. “That was a gunshot. Silencer.”

Margaret didn’t ask questions.

They ran down the stairs, but before they reached the bottom, Kendra heard distinct thumps from the front porch.

Upstairs. It was the only way …

Kendra and Margaret half stumbled, half ran up the stairs as more gunshots echoed in the room behind them.

“Bitches!” The shooter yelled as he took cover in a downstairs hallway.

For all his firepower, the man was keeping his distance, Kendra realized. He probably thought they were cops or Feds. And armed.

If only.

“This way,” she whispered to Margaret as she pulled her through a doorway at the top of the stairs.

They went perfectly still while Kendra tried to get a fix on the man’s position.

Close your eyes. Concentrate.

She could hear his slow, measured breathing downstairs. Nothing nervous or intense about him; this man was comfortable firing a gun, accustomed to killing. Not someone to underestimate.

And he had probably killed Officer Rollins tonight. The young man would not be going home to his wife and baby.

Bastard.

He was staying in one place. For now.

Waiting for them to make a move.

Kendra turned to Margaret. She was holding up well. No tears, just intensity and steely resolve in her expression.

Good, Kendra thought. She was going to need it.

Kendra quietly removed the phone from her pocket and turned on the screen.

NO CARRIER.

Shit!

“No phone calls, ladies. That’s against the rules. Why don’t you come down, and we’ll talk,” the voice called from downstairs. He had obviously heard the barely audible beep from her phone.

So he must have incredibly sharp hearing. Maybe as good as hers, Kendra thought.

Good to know.

“Your phones won’t work. And I’ve cut the home phone lines.”

Margaret held up her phone toward Kendra and shook her head. The screen read
NO SIGNAL.

He was jamming their phones. Clearly a pro.

“And I guarantee you’ll die if you try to go out a window. You’re too far up.”

Margaret suddenly leaned forward and shouted, “Come up those stairs, and I’ll blow your fat head off.”

Good God, Margaret sounded rough, like a world-weary street cop, Kendra thought, completely different from her usual tone. It would have been amusing if the situation had been different. The girl had moxie.

Still, it seemed to be working.

Silence down below.

But that bluff was only going to get them so far. Kendra pressed herself back against the wall. Concentrate. She replayed each room of the house in her mind. There had to be something she could use, some way out …

Footsteps downstairs. One, then two more. The guy was no idiot. It wasn’t going to take him long to figure out that they didn’t have weapons. And he certainly wouldn’t want to chance hanging around until someone else arrived.

“Throw down the box,” the man called out. “Throw it down, and I’ll be on my way. We’ll never see each other again.”

Kendra looked down at the tattered box in Margaret’s hand. Tempting, but no. There was a chance it was something that could help them find Eve.

“You don’t even know what it is. Give it up.”

“It’s the disk. The list of Pakistani double agents.”

“Wrong.” He chuckled and took two more steps. “Why put your lives on the line? You don’t even know what you have there.”

Kendra couldn’t argue with that.

“Who are you with? CIA? Do you think they’ll care if you end up dead? All they want is that box. Give it up and live another day.”

Kendra pulled off her shoes and motioned for Margaret to stay where she was. She quietly moved down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

“Good,” the man said. “Explore. Trust me, there’s nowhere to go.”

That keen sense of hearing again.

Kendra entered the bedroom and approached the gas fireplace. She turned the key hard clockwise as far as it would go. Gas hissed from the fireplace. She grabbed a long fire starter from the mantel and moved quickly back down the hallway.

She heard another three steps downstairs.