THE FBI THRILLERS COLLECTION Books 1-5 (120 page)

“Yes. I’m working out downstairs in the gym. Where’s Laura Scott?”

“In the car.”

“Does she know Jilly?”

“Oh yes, she knows Jilly very well.”

Alyssum Tarcher came striding down the stairs off to my right. He looked arrogant and intelligent, his eyes at that moment maybe even harder than his son’s. He seemed somehow taller to me than he had just the night before.

“Agent MacDougal,” he said, and shook my hand. “Here’s the key to Seagull Cottage. I made sure the place was cleaned up and the phone works. Given this weather, I checked to make sure there’s heat as well. This Laura Scott, she’s with you?”

“Yes, waiting for me in the car. Since someone tried to kill her, she’s keeping my gun on her at all times.” I suppose I should have mentioned Grubster and Nolan, but you never knew about a landlord, and I didn’t want the pets to give him an excuse for us not to use his property. I thanked him and turned to leave.

“Agent MacDougal, call me if there’s a problem—of any kind at all.”

“Yeah,” Cotter said. “My father chews on problems and spits out solutions.”

Alyssum Tarcher laughed and buffeted his son’s shoulder with a light shove.

“Who is it, Aly?”

Elaine Tarcher didn’t wait for an answer, just came running lightly down the stairs. Like her son, she was wearing sweats and running shoes, and she didn’t look much older than Cal. I realized I hadn’t thought about Cal since, well, for a good while. “Mrs. Tarcher,” I said, nodding. “Don’t come any closer, I’m wet.”

“I see that you are. We heard about your problem with that drug. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m just fine. Did Mr. Tarcher tell you that Laura Scott and I will be staying for a while at Seagull Cottage?”

“Yes, he did tell me. He also told me that someone is trying to kill Ms. Scott. This isn’t what we’re used to, Agent MacDougal. You seem to have brought a good deal of trouble with you. We’ve never liked violence, only
rarely seen it here in Edgerton. Until poor Charlie Duck. Have you heard anything about Jilly?”

I said no and left three minutes later, sprinting back to the car under thick, cold rain that was coming down harder than ever and had me shivering even after five minutes with the car heater turned on high. Laura had put one of her jackets up against the shattered window. It kept the rain out, but the heat from the car seeped out quickly.

I stopped off at Paul’s house. I was relieved when he wasn’t at home. Truth be told, I wasn’t ready to confront him. The last thing I wanted to happen was to scare him into running, maybe even disappearing like Jilly.

I packed up my clothes, left him a note telling him where I was, and didn’t give him any explanation at all.

We drove to a small grocery store called The Cove to stock up. Laura remained in the car both times, my SIG Sauer on her lap.

It was dark when we arrived at Seagull Cottage, not more than fifty feet from the cliffs with, I imagined, a sweeping view up and down the Oregon coast. But not tonight. Only heavy, cold rain tonight that covered everything, leaving the ocean black and flat. There wasn’t any wind at all and surely that was odd. The rain just came straight down, striking the ground hard as a slap. There were only about half a dozen spruce trees to soften the barren landscape.

I unlocked the door, checked out the inside, and waved Laura in.

A
t seven that evening we ate our dinner in front of the fireplace, chicken noodle soup and English muffins with butter dripping over the sides. Grubster lay sleeping at Laura’s feet, sated from two cans of cat food, with just an occasional twitch. Nolan was under wraps for the night. “That was delicious,” Laura said as she sat back on her hands and yawned.

“Yes, it was,” I said, barely managing to stifle my own yawn. “It’s been a long day.”

She cocked an eye open. “You’re being the master of understatement here?”

For the life of me I was too tired to think of something clever to say to that wonderful straight line. I said, “You ready to hang it up?”

Laura looked toward the cottage door. I could see the tension in her. “No,” she said. “They wouldn’t dare try anything here, in Edgerton.”

“I don’t think so either. Tomorrow is Charlie Duck’s funeral. I want to introduce you to everyone and start
getting in Tarcher’s face. As for Paul, I want to handle him very carefully. I don’t want him running.”

“He’ll never admit to anything, I’d swear to it. He’ll protect Jilly.”

She was probably right. I was imagining what it would be like to put my hands around his neck, lift him off the floor, and shake him.

“When Savich and Sherlock get here, we’ll all discuss what’s the best approach. They know we’ve got to act quickly.”

“Your friends sure have a lot of flexibility.”

“Yeah. They’re both in the same unit and he’s in charge. Savich’s boss, Jimmy Maitland, usually gives him as much leeway as he wants. Besides, they’re coming as my friends, not an official assignment.

“Sherlock and Savich are first-class agents and very good friends. It’s possible that they’ll see things as outsiders that you and I have missed. They’ll have some great ideas, you can count on that.”

“I don’t know anyone like that in the DEA.” She put her fingers on my lips. “No, don’t you dare start up with cracks about my agency.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Laura. Now, I’ll hook a chair under the doorknob and I’ll put my SIG right beside the bed. We’ve got the curtains pulled over the windows and everything’s locked up tight. It’ll be okay.”

“I guess there’s nothing more that we can do. Goodness, it’s only eight-thirty. It feels like it should be at least midnight, I’m so tired.”

“Why don’t you take the bathroom first? I want to check around outside.”

“Be careful, Mac.” She lightly touched her fingers to
my face. “I mean it, be very careful. You’ve gotten kind of important to me, real fast.”

I wanted to kiss her and not stop, so I got out of there fast. The rain had stopped for the moment. Low-lying black clouds were shifting in thick, grotesque shapes across a huge fat full moon.

It looked like a werewolf kind of night.

In that instant I heard something, something not far away, just off to my left, away from the cliffs, something rustling, then moving, perhaps a heavy foot thudding on the ground, then silence, then more rustling.

I waited, so still I could hear my own breath. Nothing more, as if whatever it was that was coming toward me had stopped. I waited longer, then longer still. Still nothing. I wondered if my brain had obligingly conjured up the bogeyman.

I remembered Cal saying that she never wanted to go anywhere near the cemetery, that the trees were growing inward, pushing so close that the roots probably had split through the coffins. I’d thought she was nuts then. Now I was hearing things, and terrifying myself. Jesus, I was losing it.

I walked to the cliff and stood looking out over the flat, black water. It went forever, well beyond those distant low dark clouds that tricked the eye, making it appear that the water simply disappeared into them. Looking north and south, I could make out the coastline—primeval mists, driftwood strewn over and sprawled out in piles on the beach. Black rocks rose out of the water like misshapen sentinels, groups of them hovering, just below me, the water scaling them, then crashing back, gushing white foam. Again and again, never stopping, never changing. I thought about what it would be like to
be here every day of my life and wondered if my soul would be calmed, or if I’d go mad.

I turned to go back, pausing a moment to get my bearings. Seagull Cottage sat at the very end of a narrow, rutted dirt road, winding south and west toward the cliff, just to this small cottage. I couldn’t see the half-mile back to the road this one split off from. There were no car headlights that I could see even in the distance. I walked to the back of the cottage, checked the windows, and looked south to the wild barren hills that rose and fell as far as I could see. Anyone could hike to the cottage over those soulless hills. I didn’t like it. I wondered if we weren’t the biggest fools in Oregon, staying here right in Tarcher’s face. I was putting my life on the line, but more important, putting Laura in danger as well. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to back down and I couldn’t imagine Laura backing away now either.

I looked at the cottage. All the windows were secure, covered with patterned cotton curtains, faded from many years in the sun. There was nothing else I could do.

My head had started aching again. No wonder. My body felt like it had been hit by a wrecking ball. I was so tired I could barely stand. But I also felt jumpy.

When I walked into the small bedroom, Laura was standing in a long nightgown by the side of the bed, looking at me.

“Hi,” she said, her voice deep and rich, making that small word sound sexy as hell. I was at her side in just under four steps. She moved against me, raised her face, and kissed my mouth.

In an instant my fatigue was gone. I’d known this woman for a matter of days and I wanted her more than
any woman I’d ever met in my life. There were no more lies between us, I thought, not a single one.

My hands were all over her, in her hair, stroking and rubbing that thick smooth hair on my face even as I kissed her, and down her back, cupping her tightly against me.

“This is crazy right now,” I said, and smiled at her beautiful face, now flushed with color. She was breathing fast, as excited as I was.

“Crazy is as crazy does,” she said, bit my ear, hooked her leg behind mine, and knocked me onto my back on the bed. She fell on top of me, kissing me, yanking on my hair to get more of me. I was kissing her and laughing at the same time. I was roaring with power.

I had my clothes off in just under a minute and her nightgown over her head and tossed to the far corner of the small bedroom in another two seconds flat. “I don’t believe this,” I said, looking at her, wanting all of her at once, not knowing where to start. She laughed as she kissed me and then her hands were all over me.

We were laughing and moaning together when I came into her and she arched up sharply, biting and licking my neck, nipping me with little kisses. I forced myself to stop. “I’ve got to get a grip here,” I said, “I just want to feel you around me. God, Laura, I’ve wanted to make love with you from the moment I saw you talking to that teenage boy in the library.”

“I wanted you over the chicken satay,” she said and tightened her arms around my back. “Yes, hold still, Mac, and let me feel you. I hadn’t imagined this tonight, I really hadn’t, I—”

She climaxed. I watched the pleasure take her, felt her tightening around me and knew I couldn’t hold on much
longer. Wonderful thing was, it didn’t matter. In a frenzy, I joined her.

“It’s the two of us now, Laura.”

“That’s more than fine by me,” she said. “I’m really glad you came to the library, even if you don’t know a thing about Latvian drug wars.”

At ten minutes after one o’clock in the morning, we were both awake again, still not going slow and easy but frenetic and urgent. There wasn’t any laughter this time, just the darkness surrounding us, Laura’s lovely flesh, and the lovely groans coming from her mouth. Afterward I came up on my elbows and touched my forehead to hers. “It’s all over for me, Laura.”

“Yes, I can feel that it is.”

The damned woman had the gall to laugh.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know.” She kissed my chin, bit my earlobe, and polished it by chopping my elbows so that I fell on top of her again. She wrapped her arms tightly around my back and held me close. “It was over for me, Mac, when you walked into the reference section and made me laugh with the first thing out of your mouth. The truth is, for me, this is a rather incredible thing.”

“Yes, for me as well. I just wish we could have met in a more normal way. Getting poisoned and shot at during the courting period tends to make a guy look over his shoulder a whole lot, and it wasn’t even your dad.”

“I forced it on you. Every time I think of all the lies I told you—had to tell you—it makes me furious and sad. Promise me that you’ve forgiven me.”

“Since I’m lying naked on top of you and you’ve kissed me just about everywhere, I guess I’ll have to. But no more lies or evasions, Laura, ever. Okay?”

“I promise. Now you make me a promise, Mac. Promise me that everything’s going to turn out okay.”

“I can promise you that we’re going to survive this, Laura. But how can it ultimately end well if Jilly’s involved?”

She kissed me again in answer, and we fell asleep, her warm breath against my neck.

I had incredible dreams.

There were werewolves prowling around outside the cottage, but they weren’t trying to peer in.

I came awake suddenly to the sound of loud banging on wood, and a voice calling out.

My brain woke up in high gear. I pulled on old cotton sweats, grabbed my SIG off the nightstand, and eased out of bed. Laura was still asleep, sprawled on her back. She was naked and my hands were on her before I could stop myself. I covered her quickly.

Daylight hadn’t made it through the curtained windows. It was dull gray and cold in the small living room, the fire in the grate long cold. Where was Grubster?

Someone banged on the door again. “Open up. Come on, Mac, open the bloody door.”

I recognized that irritated, sweet voice. I jerked the chair away from under the doorknob, turned the lock, and pulled open the door. Standing on the small porch was Special Agent Lacy Savich, known as Sherlock by everyone except her parents. Early-morning sunlight backlighted her. With all that red hair, she looked like a Titian painting come to life.

She was on me in an instant, hugging me tight. “Hi, Mac,” she said, drawing back, giving me a big smile.

“My angel,” I said, grabbing her up in my arms, and
swinging her around. “I hadn’t expected you this soon. What did you do, immediately hop a plane?”

She kissed my ear. “Yes, we took the red-eye.” Then she said over my shoulder, “Hello, who are you?”

I let Sherlock slowly back down on her feet. We turned together to see Laura, in her sweats, her hair tangled around her flushed face, Grubster curling around her bare feet.

“So soon, Mac?”

“This is Sherlock, Laura. I got her through her final physical exam at the Academy. She would have failed miserably if I hadn’t been there.”

“Ha. He was noted for his magnificent brawn, but I had the brain power.” Sherlock and Laura shook hands, Sherlock eyeing Laura like you’d expect a mother to do.

“Where’s Savich?” I asked, giving Sherlock a final hug. “You did let him come with you, didn’t you, Sherlock? I mean rather than leaving him home to take care of Sean? He’s come in handy before, hasn’t he?”

She laughed and poked me. “That man is a dream and don’t you ever doubt it. We took Sean over to his grandmother, Savich’s mom, who couldn’t wait for us to leave so she could spoil him rotten.

“Hey, it’s after eight o’clock in the morning, Mac. Dillon is walking the cliffs, checking for any recent signs of people close to the cottage. He wanted me to wait, to give you more sleeping time, but hey, I couldn’t. I was worried about you. You’re okay, Mac, really? And you too, Laura?”

I was wondering if Savich knew werewolf tracks when he saw them. “No one came back last night. Maybe the bears are hibernating.”

“Both Dillon and I are good at finding bears. We’re all
together now, Mac, not just you two alone anymore.” Sherlock began to examine me, not saying another word, just lightly touching my arms, my face. She pulled up my sweatshirt and began looking me over. “Your ribs okay now?” I felt her fingertips lightly brushing over my still-bruised middle.

“Yeah, I still get tired quicker than I used to, but it’s better every day. Hey, Sherlock, don’t pull down my pants.”

“Oh, all right.” She straightened again, then gave me several long looks. “How do you guys feel now after all that phenobarbital?”

Laura said, “I’m still just a bit on the groggy side, but it’s nearly gone.”

“Since I’m a manly man, I had almost no aftereffects.”

I got a punch in the arm.

“I’m off to make some coffee,” Laura said. “Everyone want some?”

I heard her moving around in the small kitchen that was separated from the living/dining room by a bar with three stools bellied up to it.

“Squawk.”

“That’s Nolan, and his first word of the new day.” Laura had pulled off his cage cover.