Reclaim My Life (37 page)

Every nerve in Wil’s body jumped to attention. “Did you say Morgan O’Hare?”

The twenty-two was purchased two years ago by someone in Texas, a Morgan O’Hare
.

Morgan O’Hare died at the age of six about twenty years ago and is buried in Idaho
.

Wil contained his impulse to run and call Ronda Lou. Ian may have discovered that Sunny Davis was the real Morgan O’Hare. Or Ian could be the real gun dealer and playing them. He needed more before he’d know how to proceed.

“Yeah, that’s the one she uses in her weapons trade.” Ian gave a sarcastic laugh. “I was married to her for a year and never suspected a thing.”

“What else can you tell us?”

“She has a code name that she uses for her deals that take her out of town—”

“Tell us about those transactions.” Wil needed to keep an open mind. Although he found the idea of the diminutive blonde as a killer preposterous, he had to admit she would fit Ronda Lou’s profile. Neither Cathleen Hodges nor Kris Knight would’ve given a second thought to going anywhere with Sunny. Elizabeth, either, for that matter. A chill chased down his spine just from thinking of such a possibility. Sunny was smart, and certainly would’ve known something about forensics.

“God knows what she does. I found references to targets, timetables, deliveries, packages—that sort of thing. Everything vague.”

Brady glanced at Wil, then leaned across the table close to Ian. Brady wasn’t buying it, judging from his body language. “And you can’t remember the code name she used?”

Ian propped his chin atop his steepled fingers and closed his eyes. “Conagher, Connor … Conger. That’s it. Conger.”

“Conger? Jesus Christ!” Wil toppled his chair rushing from the room.

Whether Ian told the truth or an elaborate and convoluted tale, one thing was certain. Either Sunny or Ian was the hired assassin Cory said was looking for Sofia Desalvo. Wil rushed past dispatch, barged past Zelda, and banged open his office door.

Elizabeth was gone.

Zelda covered the telephone receiver with her hand and stopped him. He prayed she’d tell him something good—such as Elizabeth had gone to the vending machine for a Coke. Instead, Zelda handed him a message slip. “She’s gone to pick up that woman who was reported missing.”

He scanned the message, and his blood froze. He struggled to catch his breath. Elizabeth had gone to meet Sunny more than thirty minutes ago.

Charging out the private entrance, he searched the parking lot in the frantic hope that he’d see the Chevy S-10 pickup. No such luck. His pulse thundered in his ears. He squeezed the doorjamb until his fingers screamed in pain.

“Holy hell, Elizabeth, what have you done? And where are you now?”

Wil rushed inside and alerted dispatch, issuing an APB on the Chevy S-10. It’s all he knew to do except pray. And pray he did, that by some miracle Elizabeth could outsmart the hit woman.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Sunny said. “Take me to my place. I’ll pick up my car and drive myself to Jacksonville.”

Still stopped for the flagger, Elizabeth glanced down at Sunny. “But you said Ian took the keys.”

“Oh, right.” Sunny’s tone was odd, not at all that of the terrified victim rescued at the Nite Owl. “I forgot. Well, there’s an extra set at the apartment. You can turn right on Osceola and cut through campus.”

If she returned to the station without Sunny but unharmed, Wilson would forgive her for disobeying his instructions. But he’d be happier if she brought in the witness against Ian. “You need to press charges against Ian before you leave town, Sunny. That’s kidnapping and attempted murder.”

“What do you know about kidnapping and attempted murder? It’s my word against his.”

Elizabeth inched up in traffic, the flagger finally turning his
Stop
sign to
Slow
. “My brother was kidnapped once and almost killed. I know the charges can stick if the victim testifies.”

“Well, I guess the secret is in not letting the victim live to testify.”

“What?” She turned to Sunny, who now held a pistol pointed at Elizabeth’s side. She blinked, but the horrible scene remained. Did Sunny plan to shoot Ian? Why point the weapon at
her?
“What are you doing with that gun?”

“Turn right on Osceola.” Sunny’s eyes turned to blocks of ice, her lips thinned to a tight, bloodless line.

Outside the weather was balmy, but chills besieged Elizabeth’s body. She trembled and shook. When she spoke, her teeth chattered. “For God’s sakes, Sunny, put that thing away.”

“I said turn right.”

Elizabeth turned.

Sunny said, “You know, you are the toughest girl I’ve had to track down. You never slipped up, not one time—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, give me a break. We both know Elizabeth Stevens is an alias that the Feds gave you when they relocated you.”

Dear God, now what?
Was Sunny working for Sullivan? Had she discovered her identity and turned her in? Fear choked Elizabeth, making breathing more and more difficult. But self-preservation kicked in, and she forced a laugh. “You clearly have me confused with someone else—”

“Nice try, but you can give up the act. I’m onto you.” She craned her neck to see over the dash. “Turn left on Second and cut over to Main. We’re going for a ride out west.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll shoot you. Don’t think I won’t.”

One look into Sunny’s chilling blue eyes removed all doubt. This crazy woman had no qualms about killing her or anyone else. “You killed Cathleen and Kris, didn’t you?”

“I don’t do confessions.”

Maybe not, but she hadn’t denied killing them. Bile rose in Elizabeth’s throat. They’d been mistaken for her and murdered for it. In Sunny’s search for her “target,” she’d simply used the process of elimination. “I—I have to pull over. I’m going to be sick.”

“Vomit inside your redneck truck. You aren’t pulling over till I say so. Now turn.”

Gagging, she turned right onto Main and headed out of town. Maybe she should throw up in the truck, hurl all over Sunny. It would serve her right, the murdering fiend. Elizabeth held no hope of getting away from her killer. Instead of making her throw up, the realization calmed her. She had an edge now. She had nothing to lose. All she had to do was use her brain. The worst that could happen? Sunny would kill her; she planned to do that, anyway.

Elizabeth feigned her way into whining mode. “Please, Sunny, tell me why you’re doing this. I don’t want to die.” She exaggerated her pitiful wailing, but the sentiment was real. She
didn’t want
to die!

“Oh, please. For the money, of course. Do you have any idea how much I make as a freelance … cleanup person?”

“Is
cleanup person
a euphemism for contract killer?”

“I told you, I don’t do confessions.”

“So the parents in Boston and the trust fund—”

“I haven’t seen my ol’ man since I was eight. And my mother? She died of an overdose while turning tricks. Sorry to destroy your illusions, but honestly, Liz, you’re too gullible.”

As if she needed reminding of her poor judgment of character. She turned up the whining, hoping Sunny would grow overconfident of her position. “So why me? What have I done?”

Sunny twisted her position, gripping the pistol with both hands. “I want to collect the second half of my fee. My client wants you taken care of. ‘Why’ isn’t my business.”

“How can you be sure you have the right person?”

Sunny’s words confirmed her worst fears. “Process of elimination.”

Slowing, Elizabeth swerved around a huge tree that blocked half the highway near the Hurricane Lantern parking lot. “You can sit up now. There’re no other cars on the road, and we’ve left town.”

Sunny took a confirming peek, then pushed herself up in the seat, the pistol never wavering from its aim at Elizabeth’s side. “Okay, just head for the first trailhead in the forest.”

Road debris slowed their progress, which suited her fine. She wasn’t in any hurry to meet her death. If only she had a way to signal Wilson, to let him know her whereabouts. Even if she did, would he have time to rescue her? She had to try.
Think!

“What’s at the first trailhead?”

“That’s where I’ll be leaving you. I’ll bike to my car, which is hidden farther up the road. You couldn’t drive a car with an automatic transmission like everyone else, could you? Otherwise, I could’ve driven away in this and dumped it.”

“Like you did Cathleen’s van and Kris’s car?”

Sunny seemed to ignore that. “God, this road’s a mess. I thought I’d be clear of this shit hole town long before now.”

She’d never seen this side of Sunny, such cold callousness. She’d thought they were friends. What signs had she missed or ignored? What defective gene had robbed her of good judgment when it came to people’s character? “Sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“Well, you have. Who’d believe that a fat chick like you ever looked like that hot-looking brunette I’ve been hunting? You’re good—I’ll hand you that.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Save it. I know who you are. As soon as my spyware picked up multiple visits to
courier-journal.com
.”

Damn. She’d thought Ian might have installed spyware. “How did you—”

“In an e-mail, dumbass. You never suspected a thing.”

“You’re so right about that,” she murmured.

Ahead in the road, a small pine tree blocked part of the pavement. On either side loomed large, solid live oaks. In a split second, Elizabeth remembered two important items. First, her Chevy S-10 came with a satellite-linked road service device. She’d paid the monthly subscription but never used the service. Would it work after the hurricane? If so, it could notify authorities of her location.

Second, she remembered turning off the passenger-side air bag when Harold had ridden in the cab holding Sophie in his lap. However, she had no recollection of turning it back on. Could she deliberately crash the truck and injure Sunny without killing herself? The gun might go off in the impact, but it was a chance she had to take.

She downshifted as if slowing for the road obstacle. At the last second, she stomped the accelerator and rammed the live oak with the passenger side, crashing through the downed pine tree and catapulting Sunny into the dash. Right before impact, Elizabeth let go of the steering wheel and covered her face with both hands.

The airbag inflated, blocking Elizabeth’s view and dazing her. She punched it down and out of the way. The impact dislodged the ball cap Wilson had given her to wear, but she couldn’t spare time to hunt for it. Sunny groaned, blood streaking her face and her eyes closed. The vile gun lay on the floorboard just out of reach. Wasting no time, Elizabeth scrambled out of her seatbelt and scooped up the pistol in one fast motion. Later she’d think about how much she loathed guns.

“We have an airbag deployment indication on your vehicle. Are you all right?” a voice called out from her
OnStar
.

“No! Send help, quickly!” she shouted, the gun trembling in her grasp. This would never do. If she couldn’t hold the weapon with authority, Sunny would take it away from her as soon as she regained consciousness.

On cue, Sunny opened her eyes.

Wil sent every available patrol car in all directions from town. Everyone at the station was on alert for news of the Chevy S-10. Brady stayed with Ian but suspended their interrogation. Wil’s gut told him Ian was as much a victim as Elizabeth.

Nancy Fox hollered from the dispatch desk, holding up a report sheet. “Out 471 west at the edge of the forest we have an
OnStar
report of a collision. It’s a vehicle belonging to Elizabeth Stevens. Devon’s closest.”

“I’ll take it.” Wil snatched the paper from Nancy’s hand. “Call EMS.”

“They’re already on the way.”

Wil started toward his office to leave and nearly collided with Fred Fischer. “I thought you’d want to know, Wil. Ralph Sapp’s regained consciousness—”

“That’s great, Fred, but I have an emergency.”

Fred rushed alongside him. “I know, but I believe this is related.”