Exposing Ethan (Cassidy Kincaid Mystery Book 4)

by Amy Waeschle

  Would they have taken Quinn to one of the clinics? She squeezed her eyes shut and recalled the image of Quinn on the screen. Could he be in an exam room? Or the physician’s office? The setting certainly fit. The neighbors would be accustomed to people coming and going to strange noises.

  Cassidy remembered Brad’s information about police involvement. So it followed that if an officer had brought Quinn to one of the clinics, that wouldn’t have looked out of the ordinary either—except that Quinn didn’t fit the demographic. He didn’t look homeless and wasn’t a teenager, or female. Keeping Quinn in such a place would be risky because clinics like that were busy. How would they get Quinn inside undetected? No, they needed someplace quiet—such as an abandoned building, an office closed for renovation. Someone like Preston Ford could have any number of locations. And if he was partnered with the police, he likely had access to their resources.

  She was back at square one: Quinn could be anywhere.

  With a shaky sigh she realized that she was left with only one option: hide the notebook until she was convinced Quinn was safe. The idea of walking into Preston Ford’s mansion empty-handed, however, made her feel sick.

  Would he decide right then that she wasn’t worth the trouble? It could happen so quickly.

  She slipped the notebook from her bag and smoothed its worn cover. Images of Pete scribbling away in a notebook flashed through her mind—at the kitchen table, in the ski lodge cafeteria, on the dashboard, at the bakery they walked to on Sundays, in bed in the middle of the night. Pete was always writing, thinking, questioning, dreaming.

  And it had gotten him killed.

  Was Quinn next?

  She forced herself to shift her thinking. She had leverage: the notebook, and information about the case that Preston Ford valued. He would keep her and Quinn alive as long as he got what he wanted.

  Where could she hide the notebook? The banks were closed, so a safety deposit box was out of the question. She imagined sealing it in an envelope then dropping it into a dumpster like they did on TV, then sharing the dumpster’s location. No, too risky.

  She went through several more ideas—Quinn’s office at Drift, locked in his desk, or taped to the underside of the bar, or left here in Quinn’s apartment. But none of those fit. The last thing she wanted was Preston Ford’s guards turning Quinn’s apartment upside down or storming into Drift. She needed someplace removed from their lives, yet secure.

  Then, she thought of Quinn’s crappy little car. The idea bloomed into a plan. She would drive Quinn’s car, Pete’s notebook locked in the trunk, and park it at some location near Preston Ford’s mansion. Only after she was sure Quinn was safe would she give Mr. Ford the keys.

  After this, I’ll buy Quinn a new car.

  After tucking the notebook into her bag, she dug Quinn’s car keys from the bowl on the edge of the counter and took one final look around the apartment. Would they be back here together in a matter of hours?

  A surge of optimism raced through her as she stepped to the door, but a surprise waited her just outside.

  Bruce stood, his face locked in a grimace. In his hands, he gripped the plastic evidence bag.

  Twenty-Six

  Her mistake came to her in a flash: by pausing to flip through the notebook, when the noise from the hall had surprised her, she forgot about the plastic sleeve. Why hadn’t she just put the notebook in her bag the minute she had it in her hands?

  Bruce pushed his way inside the apartment, then wheeled on her. “Tell me this isn’t you. Tell me I have it wrong.”

  Icy needles tumbled through her bloodstream.

  Her non-answer seemed to confirm her guilt, and he tossed the bag on the coffee table, then put his hands on his hips.

  “What the hell is going on?” His lips twisted into a grimace, as if steeling from some kind of pain.

  Cassidy took a step back from his angry stance. “I can’t tell you,” she managed. The image of Quinn’s terrified face flooded her mind.

  His sharp eyes turned furious.

  “I have to go, Bruce,” she said, sounding desperate. “I can explain later.”

  “You’re going to explain now.”

  Cassidy glanced at the door. Could she outrun him? “Please,” she begged.

  His features transformed to a mask of resolve, and the moment he moved, so did Cassidy, but he grabbed her before she made it to the door. “You leave me no choice, Cassidy.” He spun her around and jerked back her wrists. “You’re under arrest.”

  “No! You can’t!” she cried, struggling against him. “Bruce! Please!”

  Bruce had already shackled one wrist, the sound of the tightening cuffs blaring in her ears.

  Cassidy clenched her eyes shut. “They have Quinn.”

  Bruce froze behind her. “What did you say?”

  Her forehead tapped against the wall. “They want the notebook. It’s the only way.”

  Bruce exhaled a hard breath behind her. They stood there for a long moment, Bruce’s hands still pinning her arms back. “Cassidy,” he groaned.

  Slowly, he spun her to face him. “You are going to tell me exactly what the hell this is all about. Now.”

  Her lips quivered with the emotion she was keeping deep down inside her. She rubbed the place where the one handcuff was still attached, the cold metal too tight. “I have to bring them the notebook by eight o’clock, or…” she couldn’t finish.

  “Who, Cassidy?” Bruce said, gripping her shoulders.

  Everything was falling apart, her plan, her confidence. By telling Bruce, she would lose control of the rest of it. But she couldn’t save Quinn from a jail cell. She inhaled a steadying breath. “Preston Ford.”

  Bruce’s face went blank with shock. “Whoa. That guy?”

  “An officer picked me up from that apartment this morning, but instead of taking me home, he took me to Preston Ford’s house.”

  Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of officer?”

  “He was dressed like a police officer.” She remembered his name tag. “Officer Nash.”

  Bruce ran a hand through his hair and exhaled hard, his cheeks puffing out. “Preston Ford told you he had Quinn?”

  “He showed me.” Cassidy shuddered at the memory of Quinn’s scared eyes.

  “And you believe him?”

  “There was a date and time stamp. It could have been fake, but I don’t know…it’s not like I can take the chance that he’s lying.”

  Bruce let his hands fall to his sides. “This is my fault. I was in charge of him. Of both of you.”

  “You couldn’t have known there were cops working for Preston Ford.”

  “Brad warned us, didn’t he?” Bruce said, his voice tight. “Goddamn.”

  “I’m going to Preston’s house. I have a plan.”

  “No fucking way,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “What do I have to do to get through to you, Cassidy? You are not putting yourself in danger like this anymore!”

  “I don’t have a choice!”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “So, I’m just supposed to turn this over to you so you can screw it up?” she cried. “Don’t you think he’ll be ready to pull the trigger the minute I don’t show up with the notebook?”

  “Cassidy,” he barked. “We have the most highly trained professionals in the world. Let us handle this.”

  “No,” she said. “I have to go in there. It has to be me.”

  Bruce rubbed his forehead.

  “I can’t lose him, Bruce.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I can’t lose you, either.”

  Cassidy wrapped her arms around her middle, the single handcuff crashing into her thighs.

  “I have to notify the team,” he said finally.

  “No!” she said, imagining a swarm of agents rushing into Preston Ford’s mansion. “Nobody else can know about this. He’s probably watching me right now, Bruce! If he thinks we’re organizing some kind of raid he’ll kill Quinn. I won’
t take that risk.”

  Bruce sighed hard and stared at the ceiling. “Then we’ll find him first.”

  “I already tried that,” she said. “I got his last known cell tower and the radius. But nothing fit.”

  “Show me,” Bruce said.

  “We don’t have time,” Cassidy said, her voice desperate. “I have to go!”

  “This is not a plan, Cassidy!” he said, pacing. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “There’s no time to come up with anything else. I need to do this!”

  Bruce checked his watch, then grimaced. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.”

  Cassidy stepped from the taxi in front of the imposing house and its matching wall and passed through an ornate metal gate, which opened silently as she approached. Jitters rattled through her stomach and she clenched and unclenched her fists.

  Inside the courtyard, ground lights illuminated the white flagstone pathway to the grand entrance. In the far corner of the yard, against the fence, stood a security guard, barely visible in the darkness. She felt his gaze on her as she stepped up to the front door, which was opened by Officer Nash. Cassidy’s heart rammed against her ribs so hard she felt short of breath.

  She stepped inside, his thick frame towering over her.

  “Arms out,” he said gruffly.

  Cassidy grimaced as he quickly frisked her.

  He shut the door behind her, then melted into the shadows. Cautiously, her senses on high alert, Cassidy moved through the living room, passing the blank TV screen and silent piano to the sunroom. She stood at the edge of the window, gazing down at the manicured grounds lit up by small lights. Beyond the grounds, the cliff dropped away to reveal the restless Pacific, the lines of swell etched in moonlight. From this vantage, she couldn’t hear the crash of the waves but imagined them smashing into the rocks, sending spray high into the air.

  “Dr. Kincaid,” called a voice behind her.

  Cassidy spun to see Preston Ford in a dark suit, his salt-and-pepper gray hair slicked back, and his keen eyes taking her in. How long had he been standing there?

  “I trust you’ve brought what I asked for?”

  Deep breath. “Yes.”

  “No trouble from the FBI?”

  She shook her head. “But I’m not giving it to you until I know Quinn is safe.”

  A look of fury passed through his eyes. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

  “I know,” she said, too quickly. Slow down. “You’ll get what you want, I promise.”

  He raised a steely eyebrow. “Oh, of that I’m certain.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

  “Where is the notebook?” he asked, taking a step closer.

  She knew there was nowhere to run, but she glanced behind her anyway. “In a safe place.”

  “How can I trust you? Who’s to say you have it at all?”

  “I do,” she said, picturing the worn cover and the notes crawling into the margins.

  Preston Ford’s clenched expression calmed, and his eyes glowed. “You’re going to pay for this little detour.”

  Cassidy jumped back, but Preston Ford seized her arm and dragged her into the living room, barking an order at Officer Nash, who appeared out of the darkness.

  “Show Dr. Kincaid how we operate,” he said.

  Officer Nash spoke into his radio, and moments later a voice answered. Then, Officer Nash clicked on the television.

  Quinn sat in the same chair, in the same position, but his eyelids drooped, his expression slack.

  A guard appeared, startling Quinn. Cassidy watched in horror as the guard drove a punch into Quinn’s middle.

  “No!” Cassidy cried, lunging for the screen.

  The guard repeated the punch, and this time Quinn jerked forward hard enough to tip his chair over. Cassidy watched him crash sideways, slamming his head on the floor. His nostrils flared with his rapid breaths. Cassidy could see his jaw harden and his eyes glare straight ahead in defiance.

  “Stop,” Cassidy said, tears streaming down her face. “Please.” She couldn’t do this much longer. Where was Bruce? What had happened to their plan?

  Preston Ford barked an order to Officer Nash, who spoke into his radio, his fist clenched tightly around it.

  “The raid last night,” Preston Ford said slowly. “That was no routine traffic stop, was it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone leaked that shipment.”

  Cassidy tried to put the pieces together based on what she knew, but there were too many holes. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He exhaled a frustrated sigh. “If we’re going to partner in this, Dr. Kincaid, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “I only know something big happened.”

  “Who tipped them off?”

  Cassidy realized the link: Bo. Preston Ford must have seen something shift in her eyes because his lips stretched into a cold smile.

  Cassidy closed her eyes. “If I tell you, you’ll kill him, won’t you?”

  “A sacrifice will have to be made, yes. You understand, don’t you?”

  “No,” Cassidy said, grimacing as he tightened his hold on her arm. “I don’t understand how you can use people like that!”

  “The name,” Preston Ford said. “Or the next blow won’t be so gentle. My lieutenants wear steel-toed boots, Dr. Kincaid. Would you like to see the damage they can do to a person’s skull?”

  The image of Quinn in a hospital bed, his face a swollen mess made the words come before she could stop them. “Bo Min,” she gasped.

  Preston Ford’s eyes flashed. He nodded at Officer Nash, who spoke into the radio.

  The guard on the screen reached down and righted Quinn’s chair. His glaring eyes filled with terror as he saw the silver knife in the guard’s hand.

  “Now, the location of the notebook,” Preston Ford said.

  Cassidy realized that Bruce wasn’t coming. That their plan had failed. She gazed desperately at the screen, knowing she had to play her only card.

  “It’s in Quinn’s car. In the trunk. I parked it at the strip mall on 15th and Geary.” She dug out Quinn’s keys and dropped them in Mr. Ford’s palm.

  Preston Ford’s face shone with satisfaction as his fist clenched around the keys. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He glanced at Officer Nash. “Show Dr. Kincaid out.”

  Cassidy stepped back but he grabbed hold of her biceps. “Hey!” she shouted, resisting. “What about Quinn?” she asked. “You promised to let him go.”

  “I will,” Preston Ford said. “Eventually.”

  Cassidy cried out in anguish as Officer Nash dragged her away. She writhed, managing to shove her knee into his thigh but it didn’t lessen his steely grip. “I gave you what you wanted. Now it’s your turn!” Cold terror rushed into her bloodstream. “If he’s harmed, I won’t help you.”

  “You’ve both served your purpose, Dr. Kincaid,” he said, his eyes sparkling in the darkness. “Goodbye.”

  Twenty-Seven

  A bullet shattered the night. Next to her, Officer Nash grunted, then fell, taking her with him. Cassidy toppled to the ground. More bullets fired. Glass exploded and she rolled away, covering her face with her hands. She realized that Officer Nash had drawn his gun. He limped in the direction of whoever had entered the house.

  “FBI! Drop your weapon!”

  More shots, more glass shattering. A cry from across the house, then Cassidy saw the second guard slump to the ground.

  Cassidy screamed. A cold gust of air blasted into the room, carrying the roar of the surf. She tried to crawl away, the broken glass crunching beneath her palms, when a pair of hands grabbed her. She reached for something, anything, to hold onto, but there was only broken glass.

  More shots, so loud now that her head felt like it would explode. Kicking and flailing, she landed on her feet and a set of arms bear hugged from behind.

  The cold barrel of a
gun pressed into her forehead.

  Cassidy sucked in a gasp.

  “Drop your weapon,” Bruce’s voice called out as he emerged from the darkness, his gun pointed at them.

  “One more step and she dies,” Preston Ford said behind her, his arm tightening around her middle.

  Bruce’s gaze landed on her for an instant. She tried to show him that she wasn’t afraid but knew her eyes would give her away. “You know I’ll shoot the second you pull the trigger. How is that going to work for you?”

  Her left hand was burning, and something felt slippery. With a start, she realized what she was holding.

  Preston Ford made that same tsking sound with his tongue that made her shudder. “You would sacrifice her life to get to me? You’ve already sacrificed enough for your career, don’t you think?”

  “Let her go and I’ll let you live.”

  Preston Ford moved backward, pulling her with him, their feet crunching on the shattered glass. Another rush of cold air whistled through the hole in the window. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, not without some form of insurance.”

  Bruce stiffened. “Cooperate with me and we’ll go easy on you in court.”

  Preston Ford laughed a cold, hard chuckle. “So ready to negotiate, huh? That was fast.” He paused. “I want full immunity.”

  “Not a chance,” Bruce said, taking a step closer. “Take the deal. It’s the best one you’re going to get.”

  Cassidy tightened her grip around the glass shard in her palm, ignoring the burning pain and hot blood dripping between her fingers. The sea air brushing past her bare legs made her shiver.

  “There’s not going to be any deal, are you listening to me?” he said, his voice angry. “Dr. Kincaid is my insurance, for now.” In a sudden move, Preston Ford lurched toward the hole in the window. “Once I’m free, I’ll disappear. You’ll never find me.”