Authors: Lynde Lakes
Chapter Forty-Two
A loud ring shattered the quiet of Dane’s hospital room. Agent Jenkins flung his newspaper aside. He grabbed the receiver, listened a second then said, “Grayson isn’t here.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Feel well enough to speak to your attorney?”
Dane glanced at Jenkins who sat on the window ledge blatantly eavesdropping. He wore a shoulder holster and looked as mean as a junkyard dog. “Don’t worry. No one will get past the FBI cowboy guarding me.”
Dane slammed the receiver down and leaped out of bed, tearing at his IV. He winced as the tape pulled hair off the back of his hand.
“Cool down, hardhead.” Jenkins got on his cellular. “I’ll find out where she is and send backup. Don’t worry, she can handle herself.” Jenkins’ jaw tightened. “Answer your damned beeper, Jill.”
Dane tried Jill’s home. He only got the answering machine. It was the same story when he called Tess’ apartment, a blasted recorded message. Dane stopped halfway out the door. “You’re my bodyguard, right? So get you’re butt in gear.” When Jenkins didn’t move, he said, “Coming, Jenkins?”
The sky that threatened rain matched Dane’s dark mood. The adrenaline rush that had brought him this far ebbed, but he kept going.
By the time they reached the car, Dane’s pounding heart threatened to burst through his chest. His rubbery legs gave, and he sank gratefully into the passenger seat.
Dane gripped the seat, fighting pain as they sped across town. San Francisco was a colorful city, but today it was a gravestone wash of gray skies, gray sea, gray everything.
They merged onto the freeway at Seventh Street into commuter traffic.
Dane’s stomach tightened. What if the hitman had been outside the hospital watching for her to leave? And was following her now. Or was inside her house, waiting? Dane grabbed his chest, fighting the pain accentuated by his fear. He leaned forward, urging the car to go faster. “Come on, man. Shove that pedal to the metal.”
It began to rain, softly at first, then harder. He saw death in each sweep of the windshield wipers.
They reached the Saratoga off ramp and exited into a rainy bumper-to-bumper crawl through construction delays and stop-and-go traffic. “Haven’t you got a siren?” Dane growled.
“If I had one, wiseguy, I’d be using it.”
“Damn it, Jenkins, get us an escort that has one!”
“Shut up, Clark. We’ll be past this mess soon.” After a moment Jenkins said, “Look, I’ve sent backup, and she’ll be watching for trouble, so relax, man.”
“Yeah. Just like in the lighthouse when Angelo put a knife to her throat. Get a damned escort with a siren!”
“Clark, you’re a pain in the ass.” But Jenkins did as Dane asked.
Dane cracked his knuckles, something he hadn’t done since the afternoon Laura and Davy were murdered. It had been a cold gray day just like this one. A vise of dread squeezed his chest—this time, he had to outrun death.
With wailing siren, the escort joined them. Cars scattered, making a path.
Dane pressed his shoe to the floorboard, wishing it were on the accelerator. “Go, Jenkins, damn it, go!”
Chapter Forty-Three
Jill lifted the hood of her raincoat, covering her hair against the rain as she trudged up the walkway to her house. When Jenkins warned her she was marked for a hit today, she’d persuaded Tess to leave town. It hadn’t been hard to persuade her. Who’d turn down two weeks in Hawaii? She’d driven Tess and Agent O’Rourke to the airport and watched them board the 747 to make sure they were safely on their way.
She sighed. It would’ve felt good to come home for a while if she weren’t on alert. Her all-night vigil with Dane had left her drained. She longed to crawl between warm sheets and get a few hours sleep. But with a backup police unit coming, that need would be delayed. The alert was probably a waste of everyone’s time, but she had to go along with it.
She unlocked the front door and stepped inside—something didn’t feel right. She had set the heat on low before she’d left for work the previous morning, so why was it almost as chilly inside as outside? A draft swept down the hallway from the back of the house. Hairs prickled at the nape of her neck.
There was a rustling in her bedroom. Her heart hammered. She caught a whiff of stale tobacco. Backup was on the way—no hostage involved—no reason to confront an intruder alone.
She eased quietly back outside. A police car turned onto her block. She ran to meet them. “There’s someone inside,” she told the two officers. One policeman followed her and the other covered the back of the house.
****
Jenkins turned at Jill’s corner. The rain came down in sheets, making it difficult for the windshield wipers to handle the deluge. Dane squinted through the downpour. Halfway down the block they passed a police car. Why wasn’t it parked in Jill’s driveway behind her car?
Please, Lord, let her be safe.
****
Jill shrugged out of the constricting raincoat, wiped her hands on her hips, and drew her service revolver. Holding the .38 in both hands, she worked her way cautiously down the hallway, staying behind the officer and close to the wall. The smell of stale tobacco grew stronger.
A shot rang out. The officer staggered and fell, holding his chest. Outside the bedroom window, the other officer shouted, “Freeze.”
Through the hinged crack of her open bedroom door, Jill saw something move. Fearing for the other officer’s life, she kicked the door with brutal force, pinning the intruder between wood and wall. He yelled in pain.
The officer outside the window climbed into the room, keeping his gun aimed at Sammy. Sirens wailed and cars skidded into her driveway.
Jill focused on him, not permitting anything to distract her. “Use your left hand, nice and slow.” Her heart pounded, her eyes alert for any wrong move.
****
Outside, Dane leaped from the barely stopped car, and ran through the rain, energized by desperation. Seconds ago, he’d heard a gun shot.
“Wait,” Jenkins shouted.
The echo of the shot still rang in Dane’s head. Visions of Jill sinking to the floor in a pool of blood pushed everything from his mind but getting to her.
Jill held a gun on a redheaded man with a bleeding nose while a cop handcuffed him. Dane began to breathe again.
Thank God, she was alive.
She looked tired, taut, but her stance was confident, in charge. He had to get used to the fact that she could take care of herself.
Panting heavily, Dane stepped aside as Jenkins and one of the other cops rushed in and took the prisoner.
Sammy looked back, his blue eyes filled with hate.
Sammy.
“The hitman was Sammy,” Dane said as his former assistant’s identity finally registered.
Jill’s blue eyes softened with concern. It was all the encouragement he needed. Forgetting his drenched clothing and the pain throbbing in his chest, Dane drew her into his arms. “You okay?” he asked hoarsely.
“Fine.” She wrapped her arms around him. “Here, lean on me. You look terrible.”
Her body was warm, soft.
She gently helped him to her bed. “Lie down.” She turned to Jenkins. “Get an ambulance.” She smoothed Dane’s brow with cool fingers. “You can’t keep trying to rescue me, Dane. You just can’t.”
He winced. What must she think of him? He’d broken the law several times, and to top it all off he’d made a complete fool of himself by trying to rescue her when she didn’t need it.
“I was crazy with worry,” he whispered, feeling dizzy.
Don’t let me pass out and make even a bigger jerk of myself.
“Thank God it’s over.”
Jill frowned. “I’m sorry Dane,” she murmured. “But with us Feds it’s never over. I have another case I can’t pass up. It involves kids.”
The news hit him like a wrecking ball. Even after all that had happened, he hadn’t fully accepted her. He fought to stay conscious. “Kids, huh?”
“They need me.”
Her face looked more beautiful then ever, sweet and sad. It had been Jill’s compassion that had attracted him to her. Now it was this very caring that constructed an invisible wall between them. And he wasn’t sure how to scale it...or knock it down.
****
Jill lay on her couch in the early afternoon, listening to her favorite collection of Martin Denny piano music. She’d returned from Los Angeles exhausted. The last five days had been a marathon of meetings and grueling, grisly fieldwork. The worst part had been going through the photo gallery showing the condition of the children’s bodies after the heinous psychopath dumped them.
Dane would hate what that fiend did to the children, but he’d love to be in on this story, would love to help find the depraved monster. But any hint in the papers now of how close they were would alert the killer and destroy the net closing around him.
Her answering machine was jammed with Dane’s messages. He’d said repeatedly, “I must see you. I love you.”
The goodbye note she’d left in his mailbox wouldn’t keep him away now that she was back. He saw himself as some sort of a knight in shining armor, and every time she got in a jam he would come galloping to the rescue. He could end up dead.
A warm tear slid down her cheek.
She couldn’t have Dane and her job. And she couldn’t leave while some maniac was mutilating, killing innocent little children.
A car pulled into her driveway with a familiar roar. She went to the window and drew the curtain back an inch. Dane leaped out of his car and stormed up the walkway in long strides. Her heart sank. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
Just seeing him charge up the walk made her want to fling herself into his arms. She stood rooted to the spot.
Dane rang the bell.
Her heart beat faster.
Please, go away. Why did she have to love him, need him?
She took a shaky breath and leaned against the wall, close to the door, close to him. She needed his strong, supportive arms around her.