Not This Time (15 page)

“You—you’re Raven.” He couldn’t believe it.
Bleeding out
. His head went fuzzy. Darla, the airhead, couldn’t be Raven. But she was. She’d done what he’d done as a cleaner his whole career: she’d hidden in plain sight.

Pain exploded in his chest. Dying. Life seeping away. Two minutes, maybe less, and he’d be dead. Dead and gone. His kids wouldn’t even know. No one would mourn.

“Yes, I’m Raven—and you dared to cross me.” Her eyes burned fire. “Gray Ghost, your services are no longer required.” She pulled the trigger again.

Masson heard the bullet. They always said if you were going to die, you never heard the bullet.

They lied.

8

Y
ou okay?” Jeff took the phone from Beth and set it on Sara’s coffee table. Who with a brain could be okay? When Kyle and Jeff had first arrived with news of Robert’s kidnapping, Beth’s insides had crumbled. She’d gone downhill from there. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Jeff dismissed her, focused on Kyle. “Do we have a location?”

He swiveled his chair at the electronics table. “Highway 98 in Destin. Congested area. Info on the number is coming in now …” His look of anticipation soured. “Phone’s a throwaway.”

“What’s that?” Sara’s housekeeper, Maria, asked.

Jeff seemed as disgusted as Kyle. “A prepaid disposable. No records on ownership, no service contract, no paper trail to follow. A dead end.”

Beth wadded a tissue to dry her damp palms. “So much for getting lucky.”

Jeff let her see his worry. “Can you handle the drive to the marina? Other people are on the road, so if not, say so and I’ll inform Roxy. She should stand in anyway.”

Roxy was six inches shorter than Sara and a redhead. Even wearing a blond wig and a hood, no one would take her for Sara, and if Robert died, Sara wouldn’t blame Roxy, she’d blame Beth. “I won’t give her permission to drive Sara’s car.” Beth put the onus on herself. “I can do it.” Sara was five-seven; Beth was an inch taller, but no one would notice that. The wig under a hood, tips hanging out to be seen, and dim light from the storm—Beth could pull it off. Her hands were freezing. She rubbed, warming them. “I’ll sign whatever you need signed.”

“Why?” Jeff looked surprised. “This is dangerous, Beth, and you and Sara don’t look any more alike than she and Roxy.”

“We’re about the same height, weight, and age, and Sara’s got a blond wig. I can wear it and a hood.” They were both knocking at the door of thirty. Sara was naturally lean and svelte, but Beth’s daily beach runs had slimmed her. She couldn’t do a thing about her olive skin, but with the storm coming, light would be poor at best. It could work. It had to work.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t. I’m scared. I get mean when I’m scared. Sorry.” She waited for his nod then added, “I have to do what I can so this ends with Robert safe—for Sara. We’re family.”

Understanding lit in his eyes. “Okay, then.”

“I don’t think Roxy will approve Beth stepping in—”

Jeff silenced Kyle with a warning look and stood. “Beth, you drive Sara’s car. We’ll position people to protect you but you have to appear to be alone, so don’t look for them. The kidnapper could be watching.” He tugged at his earlobe. “Probably will be.”

Fear curdled in Beth’s stomach. Queasy, she got Sara’s keys. “I’m taking my cell phone. If you hear anything on Sara—”

“I’ll call,” he promised. “Your number’s on speed dial and I’ll be close.”

That made her feel better, though it shouldn’t. Anyone sane would be scared out of her skin. Beth was no hero. She was plenty scared and considered calling her mother and Nora. But both would pitch a fit at her doing this. Joe would understand, but flaunting him in Jeff’s face would just be mean.

Disappointment bit. This time, God aside, Beth was isolated and on her own.
Fewer choices, greater strength
.

Unfamiliar with the feeling, she stilled. How many times had Sara felt this way?

Parched, Beth drank some water. It sloshed onto her shaking hand and she set the glass down. What was it Joe and the guys on his team said in tough
times? He’d reminded her—
think steel
. That was it. That’s what she needed to do.

“Bad storm moving in,” Kyle said. “Best get moving.”

Think steel
. “I’m ready.”

Beth said it, and prayed it proved true.

The wig itched.

Beth wore it anyway, and forty minutes later she parked Sara’s black Saab in the marina parking lot. Thunder crackled in the distance and heavy, black clouds blanketed the sky, blocking the sun. It was nearly noon but dark outside. Pole lights were on in the parking lot.

Jeff had fitted her with a communications earpiece. Sure it was properly seated, Beth grabbed the garden shovel she’d snitched out of Sara’s garage. “On my way.” She headed west across the parking lot toward the Dumpster.

“Wait. We need a second. Tie your shoe.”

She had on slides—no laces. Pausing at the front fender of a tan pickup, she wiggled her heel. Security lights spilled little halos of amber light over the cars.
Empty
. The coming rain had everyone indoors. A restaurant/bar on the corner lit up J. Ray’s flamingo-pink, neon sign. Muffled soft rock music from inside the beach-shack club sounded dull and distant. The band must be practicing for tonight. In the adjoining lot, she spotted the Dumpster.

Seconds later, Jeff said, “Okay, go.”

Beth walked on, out of the asphalt parking lot, then across the cool sand toward the Dumpster. Waves crashing against the shore scraped her frayed nerves. She pulled her hooded sweatshirt close around her face. The stiff breeze blowing in off the Gulf was hot enough—or she was nervous enough—that she was breaking a sweat. She could mimic Sara’s carriage, and Sara’s wig should convince any spotter.

Between the water and the street, the wooden frame of a new building jutted
up like a wooden maze from a concrete foundation. The Dumpster stood beside it.
Don’t look around. They’re watching
.

Her shoes filled with sand that grated against her feet. If she walked much more, she’d be hobbling as bad as Sara. She stopped. Which side of the Dumpster did the kidnapper consider the front—the side facing the street or the water?

The water, she decided. In the village, everything was about the water. In position, she looked down. The sand had been freshly turned. Looking straight down so the hood would shield her lip movements, she whispered, “There are footprints down here.”

“Are they fresh?”

She grimaced. “Probably. The machine’s been by to smooth, but rain is pitting the sand now. They’re on the hard pack, walking away from the burial site.” She looked around. “I don’t see anything to protect them from the rain.”

“Try not to disturb them. Get the instructions and vacate. We’ll check them out later.”

They were watching. Not just Jeff but the evil people who’d done this too. Away from the prints, she dropped to her knees, then started digging. “If Robert’s buried here, I’m going to be sick.”

“You talked to him.”

“Did I? If they can do all they’ve done …” A foot down, her shovel pinged against something … 
glass
. Glass was forbidden on the beach.

She carefully dug out around it. Trembling, she fumbled the shovel twice.
Get a grip, Beth
. What kidnapper worried about getting fined for bringing glass on the beach? What if the kidnapper and the FBI started shooting at each other? They could kill her. They could shoot her on purpose.

“Think steel,”
Joe’s voice whispered inside her mind.

Surprised, she listened. Spoke back to it.
I need a bigger shovel so I can get out of here faster
.

“Panic later. Focus, sha.”

Maybe she deserved Jeff’s condescension. She sounded neurotic even to herself.

“Dig, gorgeous. Just dig.”

The glass was a mayonnaise jar. She dusted at the damp sand clinging to it, realized she could be wrecking evidence, and stopped. A rolled piece of paper was inside. “Do I open it?” She didn’t see anyone watching, but that included the FBI agents.

“Take it back to the car,” Jeff said. “Try not to touch more than you must.”

Fingerprints—and perhaps immediate instructions. Beth stepped around the footprints.

The sky split open. Fat raindrops pelted down, stinging her skin, soaking her clothes. She shielded the jar and hustled back to Sara’s Saab, eager to get out of the open.

Drenched, she climbed in, locked the doors, and cranked the engine. Brushing a tissue over her face, she hid her mouth. “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“Let’s see what the kidnapper has to say.”

Rain beat on the car like a thousand drums. Lightning cut jagged streaks across the sky and thunder vibrated through the car, through Beth. She clicked on the overhead light and carefully removed the paper, its edges clamped between her nails. “Two million. Waterproof bag. Insert in inner tube and drop in Blackwater River at Jay’s Place. Dawn tomorrow. Will recover then phone directions to RT.”

“Two million? By dawn?” Jeff sounded surprised and worried.

“That’s it.” Beth put the paper back into the jar and placed it in a small ice chest Jeff had put on the passenger-side floorboard. “How is Sara supposed to get two million together by dawn?” Even if she weren’t in ICU, getting that kind of money to the village that fast? Could it be done?

“Drive back to Sara’s,” Jeff said. “We’ll coordinate there.”

Even more worried than before, Beth ground the starter. On her second try, the engine cranked. “Are we private, Jeff? Or is everyone listening in?”

“I’ll call you right back.”

A long three minutes later, her cell phone chirped. Had he forgotten it was tapped too? She depressed the button and listened. “Hello.”

“You have something private to say?”

“Several things, but I’ll wait to say them in person. Anything on Sara?”

“Some good news from Harvey Talbot via Peggy Crane. Sara’s off the critical list. She’s stable.”

The back of Beth’s nose burned. “She’s out of danger?”

“Yes.”

Beth squeezed her eyes shut and let it settle.
Thank You, God
.

“She’s out of ICU. If she’s still stable in the morning, they’ll release her. Peggy and Dr. Talbot are staying with her, so you’re not to worry. Peggy said to be sure to tell you that.”

Of course Peggy was staying with Sara. But Harvey too? If she was stable, then why? Odd message.

Quit borrowing trouble, Beth. You have enough. Just be grateful
.

She was grateful. But Clyde Parker dying, NINA, and Robert and Sara … a lot had happened and all of it was spooky stuff. Of course she’d be apprehensive, look for hidden meanings. “I’m glad.”

Hanging a right off Highway 90, she headed to Sara’s, letting hot, healing tears wash away her fear for her friend. Beth was the youngest of four kids and always the odd one out. The others were replicas of their father—she didn’t understand them any better than she understood him. Sara was different. She was the one family member on Beth’s wavelength. If anything happened to her, Beth just couldn’t stand it.

Parked in the garage, she grabbed the ice chest, then crawled out of the car, bumping her knee on the steering wheel. Pain shot up her leg. “Yeow!”

“You okay?” Jeff walked up behind her.

“I’m fine.” Wincing, she rubbed at her knee. “My SUV sits a lot higher.” She felt as if she’d ridden the entire way dragging her seat on the pavement.

Jeff took the ice chest. “We’ll get this to the lab. Maybe we’ll get something.”

“I dusted the jar a bit before I thought about fingerprints.”

“My fault. I should have said something.” He rubbed at his ear. “Actually, I never should have let you go. Protocol breach, but Roxy couldn’t pass for Sara
at midnight on a moonless night much less on a rainy day. My back was against the wall.”

“I wouldn’t let her drive Sara’s car. My responsibility.” Beth reminded him of the cover he needed to stay out of the FBI doghouse. She swung open the kitchen door.