Minutes to Kill (6 page)

Thousands of miles didn’t feel like enough distance to Brody. “What did the e-mail say?”

“
 
‘Help. The end comes Tuesday.
’
 
” Hannah’s voice broke. “That’s it. The subject line was the girl’s name. The detective in Vegas said it was untraceable. It was sent from an anonymous e-mail account called Hide My Identity, and the IP address of the computer was
shielded with a virtual private network. He suggested I let my local
police know about the incident.” She smiled weakly. “So I called you.”

Because he was the only cop she knew? Part of Brody wanted the reason to be more, but Hannah Barrett was a complicated woman. She stirred up too many unknowns in his gut. It was easier to date women who didn’t keep him up at night, not that he dated much. The shooting in Boston and his subsequent divorce had driven him to Scarlet Falls in search of a fresh start. The events had also left him wary of intense experiences, and Hannah Barrett’s intensity meter was stuck on high.

“I don’t want to unnecessarily alarm Grant,” she said. “He knows the man took my purse and has this address.”

“Your brother installed a very high-end security system. Your assailant is probably thousands of miles away, but you should keep the alarm on at all times. If you forward me the e-mail, I’ll have a look at it.” Brody rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know what this means, but I don’t like it. Please call me if anything seems odd. Anything.”

“All right,” she said. “I don’t know what ‘the end’ is, but it doesn’t sound good, and Tuesday is only a few days away.”

“Try not to think about it. You notified the Las Vegas police. There’s nothing else you can do.” But Brody wasn’t going to be able to put it out of his mind. “And do not respond. This could be a trick to get more information from you, like your current whereabouts. Anyone who is good enough to conceal his own current location has enough skill to trace yours.”

Tormenting a woman could also be some sick bastard’s idea of fun—or revenge.

Mick pulled up to the pump. Colored light from a gas station sign gleamed off the hood of the car. The V-8 engine was powerful, and the tank emptied like there was a siphon attached. But they were in Scarlet Falls on Saturday night, just as he’d planned. With pit stops, the trip had taken a little longer than he’d anticipated. He stretched his back. Considering how many hours they’d spent in the car, he didn’t feel too bad. Alternating sleeping and driving had helped, so had the coke.

“I’ll go pay.” He got out of the car and zipped his jacket. The upstate New York cold was a smack after living in the desert. He went inside to pay for their gas in cash, and the attendant turned on the pump. Enjoying the heat in the store, Mick watched through the window as Sam slid the nozzle into the tank. An old Camry pulled up behind the Charger. A young woman got out and swiped her credit card at the pump. Her long brown ponytail swayed as she inserted the nozzle in her tank. While the gas pumped, she came into the small store and asked for a pack of cigarettes. She handed the clerk some cash, then pocketed the receipt and her change.

Mick walked back to the car. His brother’s eyes were bright in the reflection of the sign. Too bright. Damn it. He shouldn’t have let him snort that coke. The pump shut off, and Sam removed the nozzle. Taking his sweet time, he hung it up and screwed on the gas cap.

He got into the driver’s seat, his eyes straying to the rearview mirror.

“Don’t even think about it,” Mick said. Looking back, he watched the woman return the nozzle to its place, close her gas cap, and get into her car.

Sam grinned. “Why not? No rules, remember?”

“We have to keep a low profile.”

His brother started the car. He waited until the little sedan pulled out ahead of them. “We can do that and have some fun.”

“Better to scope out the town first and find somewhere to crash, and I want to see the blond tonight.”

But Sam was on the highway behind the woman. “Tomorrow’s soon enough, isn’t it? Like you said, we need to find a place to stay.”

Mick knew, before they even approached the stop sign, what Sam was going to do. “Don’t do it. Not in my car—”

The sedan stopped. Sam tapped her bumper. “Relax. The car is fine. It was just a kiss.”

Both vehicles pulled to the shoulder. Sam was out of the car. Mick hunched in the front seat, fuming. His car better not have a fucking scratch in the paint. But he didn’t intervene. There was no stopping his brother once he was in motion.

Sam approached the front of the Charger, his posture apologetic. The woman got out of the Camry, and they both bent to examine her bumper. Sam pointed to the car. In the same movement, he punched her in the face. She hit the ground like a cinder block. Sam went to the open driver’s door. The trunk popped up. He ran back to the woman, scooped her up, and heaved her into the trunk. Slamming the lid, he jumped into the car and drove off. Mick followed. Where were they going?

He followed the Camry four miles until it turned off the country road into a dark lane. They parked in front of a mobile home with some sort of big building in the background. Mick got out of the car. A couple of dogs barked in the dark.

Sam got out of the Camry.

“Where are we?” Mick asked.

“Her place.” His brother had a purse in one hand. “I checked the phone listing. No man listed on the house or business. Let’s see if she lives alone.”

They went up to the front door. Sam used the key to open the door. He flipped the light switch. It was a mobile home, but a large one. They’d certainly lived in worse.

“Not bad.” Sam walked through the rooms. In the kitchen, he picked up an electric bill from the table. Only one name on the label: Joleen Walken.

Mick went into the bedroom. He checked the closet and drawers. “No men’s clothes.”

“Second bedroom is an office.” Sam closed another door. “Just girl stuff in the bathroom.”

Maybe this would work out. “Nice job, Sam.”

Sam grinned. “Gotta have faith. I know what I’m doing.”

He’d certainly had enough practice.

He went back to the car to get the girl. Mick held the door. Her body looked limp when he picked her up, but by the time his brother got her to the front step, she was awake and kicking.

Mick shut and locked the door. Sam dropped the girl on the floor. Her body hit the thin carpet with a breath-expelling thud. She crabbed backward. Her chest heaved, and her eyes searched for an escape route.

There wasn’t one.

Not with Sam.

“You want to go first, Mick?” Sam’s voice was tight with restraint. Edgy from being cooped up in the car, he needed to vent.

“No, that’s OK. I’ll pass on this one.”

“You sure? She looks like your type.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

“OK.” Sam moved in.

Mick went into the bedroom and closed the door. It was best to let Sam work out his rage. Mick could wait. Soon he’d have the blond all to himself.

Chapter Seven

“
I’m fine. Really.” Hannah studied her brother’s profile across the center console of his pickup. Physically, Grant hadn’t changed much over the months since he’d left the army to raise their murdered brother’s children. His frame was naturally large, and physical labor kept him heavily muscled. It was his eyes that were different. For the first time ever, he seemed content.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I can cancel our trip.” Grant and the family were scheduled to leave the next morning.

“That’s ridiculous,” Hannah said. “You’ve been planning this vacation for months. Carson wants to see Mickey Mouse. After all he’s been through, he deserves a visit to Disney World. So do Ellie, Julia, and Nan. There’s no reason to let them all down. Besides, AnnaBelle and I aren’t going to do anything except take leisurely walks, watch movies, and eat pizza while you’re gone.”

He gave her a doubtful look. “Yesterday you told Brody you’d talk to the prosecutor.”

“That’ll take an hour, at best. Look, I’m still tired, but the aches and stiffness are better every day.” She wasn’t a hundred percent, but two days of rest had helped.

“You’ll keep the alarm set?”

Hannah raised her right hand. “I promise, and I know where the gun safe is.”

“All right.” Grant nodded. “Brody said he’ll be around all week.”

There was something about Brody McNamara. Something she couldn’t quite define, but when they were in the same room, she was acutely
aware
of him in an irritating and consistent way that made her simultaneously want to avoid—and seek—his company. So what? She was attracted to him. She could fight that off. She’d been battling her feelings her whole life, though lately, her hold on them seemed tenuous.

Her gaze drifted to the rural highway stretching out in front of the truck.

She wasn’t staying in Scarlet Falls. She’d get that clearance from the neurologist. Next week she was off to London. Royce wouldn’t need to handle the Tate deal. She’d worked for it, and she was going to make sure it was hers.

The sound of Grant shifting into park startled her. She looked through the windshield at the familiar one-story brick building of the nursing home where their father lived. Sunday afternoons were prime visiting hours, and the parking lot was full.

They went through the lobby and signed in at the reception desk. Hannah’s heart slid into overdrive. Under her silk sweater, sweat broke out at the base of her spine. The hospital smell made her queasy.

At the nurses’ station, a woman in lavender scrubs greeted them with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Barrett.”

“Morning, Maria.” Grant introduced Hannah. “How is he today?”

Her smiled turned sad. “About the same.”

“Thanks.” With his hand on her elbow, Grant steered Hannah down a long hall covered in flat-napped gray carpet. A tiny woman hunched over a walker shuffled toward them.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henry,” Grant said.

“Morning, handsome.” She flashed him a perfect set of dentures. “Did you come to break me out of this place?”

“Name the day.” He grinned back at her.

Hannah laughed, the humor easing her nerves. They turned left into the acute-care wing. If the Colonel had been ambulatory, his dementia would have put him in the secure Alzheimer’s ward. But his physical limitations ensured he couldn’t wander.

Twenty feet from his open doorway, she stopped and took a deep breath. “Any advice?”

“First of all, relax. It’ll be all right.” Grant reached out and rubbed her bicep.

“The last time I was here, the visit didn’t go well. He got really angry.” Shame flooded her. She hadn’t known what to do when the Colonel’s temper had exploded.

“I know,” he said. “I don’t want you to be shocked at his appearance. He’s fading. Honestly, I think it’s a blessing. A man like him shouldn’t have to live like this. If he wasn’t the toughest, most stubborn man on the planet, he wouldn’t still be here.”

Hannah swallowed. The hallway smelled like death. Most of the residents of this wing were here to die, the Colonel included. No amount of disinfectant or air freshener could sugarcoat that hard fact. “How often do you see him?”

“I try to get here at least twice a week.”

“I didn’t come in September. I should have, but . . .”

“It’s OK.” Grant shrugged. “He doesn’t know. His short-term memory is nonexistent. He doesn’t remember me. He has no idea I was here last Thursday. Every time I visit, he thinks I’m someone else.”

“How do you deal with that?” Staring at the Colonel’s open doorway, horror and fear curled inside her, waiting to unfurl. The hospital bed, the IV, the air of hopelessness, all brought back the memory of sitting at her mother’s side with the sole goal of minimizing her pain while she died over the course of several months.

“Coming here is for his benefit, not mine. My only goal is to give him a pleasant hour or two in the middle of what have become endless days of mental and physical misery. I let go of expecting him to know me. He doesn’t remember anything that happened over the last twenty-five years, but sometimes he surprises me with clear recollections of our childhood or his. When I bring the kids to see him, he thinks Carson is one of us boys and Faith is you.”

“You bring the kids here?” Sure, now a six-year-old could handle what Hannah couldn’t bear.

“Only if Ellie can come with me. So if the Colonel’s in a bad way, she can take the kids home. But he seems to have his best days when they’re here. Their presence perks him up. He doesn’t know specifically who they are, but he always senses they’re family.”

“So what should I do?”

“Play it by ear,” Grant said. “The hardest thing for me is remembering not to call him Dad. It confuses him, and he gets upset when he knows he should be remembering something and the information isn’t there. I always address him as Colonel or sir. That appears to take the pressure off. Then I just go with the flow.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“We both know it isn’t.” Grant gestured toward the door. “Let’s see how he is today.”

Hannah’s insides trembled as she stepped toward her father’s room. Grant put his hand on her elbow, and she tried to absorb some of his confidence.

The Colonel was asleep. Hannah couldn’t suck back the quick and quiet gasp as she registered his deterioration. His face was gaunt, his hands skeletal. His skin had tightened, as smooth as plastic, over his bones. Under the white linens, his body had shrunken. She had few memories of the Colonel before the explosion, bits of images and impressions that littered her mind like confetti. But even confined to a wheelchair, he’d been a formidable presence. Now his body was barely a shell.

A clip from her childhood played in her mind. The Colonel zooming through the forest on his specially rigged ATV. He’d been paralyzed in Desert Storm, but back then, he’d been determined to stay active. His descent into madness over the past few years had been the ultimate kick in the face for a man who’d confronted trial after trial with a warrior’s courage. It was as if Fate just wasn’t happy until she’d broken him.

Anger and hurt welled up in Hannah’s chest at the overwhelming unfairness.

Grant squeezed her arm. She ripped her eyes off her father’s shrunken figure and stared at her brother. Grant had inherited the Colonel’s size and natural leadership. The stubborn gene had been passed to all the Barretts. But their father was a soldier through and through. He’d shown his love for his children by pushing them as hard as new recruits. There was enough of Mom in Grant to soften his hard edges. He bonded with Carson and Faith in a way that had been impossible for the Colonel. Grant would never leave Faith behind, and he’d never exclude her, even unintentionally, and he wouldn’t put those two kids through drills that could break twenty-year-old men.

Grant walked to the bedside and inspected the bags hanging off an IV stand.

Hannah shuffled to her father’s side. Within a few seconds, lack of movement allowed anxiety to build in her bloodstream like a toxin.

“Colonel?” Grant touched Dad’s hand.

The Colonel opened his eyes, confusion and suffering clouding the once-sharp blue of his irises. “Gary?”

Hannah bit back a tear. The Colonel’s younger brother had been dead for fifteen years.

Grant didn’t miss a beat. “I brought you a visitor.”

The Colonel’s head moved on the pillow. His eyes blinked on Hannah. Recognition, then affection dimmed his pain, and relief flooded Hannah. He knew her.

All his joy came forth in one word. “Hope.”

The sound of her mother’s name from his lips nearly took out Hannah’s knees.

“Don’t just stand there, Gary,” the Colonel barked in a raspy, weak voice. “Get Hope a chair.” He coughed, the effort of issuing orders clearly taxing his lungs.

Grant rounded the bed and set a visitor chair behind Hannah. His hand on her shoulder steadied her legs.

This visit is for the Colonel, not for me.

She willed her disappointment away. It slunk to the wings and sulked, waiting. She knew it would be back.

Her father turned his hand over. His fingers curled in a
Come here
gesture. Hannah closed her hand over his, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. The strength of his grip around her fingers surprised her. She eased onto the plastic seat.

“Beat it, Gary,” the Colonel said with a slight jerk of his head. “I want to be alone with my girl.”

Wiping tears from her cheeks, Hannah laughed. Even impending death couldn’t break the Colonel’s fighting spirit.

With a sad smile, Grant bowed out, but Hannah knew he’d be lingering in the hallway, within earshot, in case she needed him.

“I’ll walk again. I promise,” the Colonel said.

He thought it was 1991, and he was just returning from Iraq. How often did he have to relive that awful time?

He squeezed her hand. “Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be all right.”

And, oddly, it was. Hannah wiped her cheeks. He was too weak for much conversation, but he seemed to be content to sit in silence and hold her hand. When he fell asleep, his face was relaxed and peaceful. She waited until his breathing leveled out before slipping from the room.

“He thought it was just after the explosion.” Hannah stopped at the nurses’ station to pluck a tissue from the box on the counter.

“That happens. Are you all right?” Grant wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her down the hallway toward the exit.

“The best visit I’ve had with him in years, and he thought I was someone else.”

“He can’t help it. I know you’re hurting, Hannah. But
he
had a really good hour, and you gave it to him.”

“I know,” she sighed. Outside of her hometown, she fared better, but here in Scarlet Falls, painful memories overwhelmed her. She was instantly reduced to a nine-year-old girl left behind while her father took her brothers on an outing in the woods. He usually let her go if she asked, but he’d never been happy about it. And the fact that she always had to justify her inclusion spoke volumes of their relationship.

Her therapist had not been surprised she had trouble forming attachments.

Grant pushed the door open, and they walked out into the daylight. The breeze swept cool over her face, but the sun rallied for warmth on her skin. Her brother started toward the truck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Hannah said.

“I’m here for you when you’re ready.”

“When did you get so touchy-feely?” She regretted the snipe as soon as it left her lips. “I’m sorry. That was bitchy.”

“I won’t let you push me away, Hannah.” He stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “Mom’s death was devastating. For me, it was a hell of a lot easier to fly in for two weeks a year and let Lee handle the family. We drifted apart over the years, but Lee’s death taught me that was a mistake. We all let him down. I won’t let that happen again. We need each other. ”

Hannah thought the opposite. To her, Lee’s death reinforced how much it hurt to lose someone she loved.

“After Mom died, I didn’t want to be here either, but now, raising Faith and Carson, being with Ellie . . .” Grant paused, as if the intensity of his feelings for his new family was too much to explain. “In a way, it was easier to sever all those connections and let my career take over. Getting shot at overseas was less scary than taking on the responsibility for Lee’s kids. But I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“Are you this determined to rein Mac back into the fold?” she asked in an attempt to divert the conversation to their youngest brother, who was the wildest of them all.

“Don’t worry. Mac is next on my list.
After
you.” Grant had their father’s piercing blue eyes, and the sharpness of his gaze pinned her in place. Hannah looked away, her lungs tightening until little dots appeared in her vision.

Her new phone rang. Royce.

“Hold on. It’s work.” She stepped away from a frowning Grant and answered the call as if she were in the middle of the ocean and Royce was tossing her a life ring. “Hello.”

“How are you?” Royce asked.

“Better,” Hannah lied. After the visit with her father, she felt empty, every drop of emotion wrung out of her body. This is why she stayed out of Scarlet Falls. Visits home drained her.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He sounded doubtful.

“Did you get my e-mail?” She could hear the sounds of traffic over the line.

“I did.”

“Well?”

“I’m not sending you anything,” Royce said.

“What?”

“You are supposed to be recuperating, not working.”

“I can do both.”

“Not this time.” Royce’s voice softened. “I’ll never forget how pale you were when I saw you in that parking lot. I thought you were dead, Hannah.” He paused. “I told you in Vegas. Your job will be here when you’re fully recovered, but I won’t allow your ambition to get in the way of your recovery.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Impatience sharpened Royce’s tone. “I care too much about you to let anything happen to you.” His voice deepened. “But I will say that I miss your company.”

Hannah had no words. When she went back to work, she and Royce were going to have a long conversation. She liked him in a professional, friendly way. That was it. She wouldn’t allow him to destroy her reputation.