A throat cleared from behind him and Emily’s eyes probed the shadows of the room. “I think that’s enough talking,” Paul said. “You can die now.”
What? “No, wait a minute, something’s not adding up. Please? A few more questions?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, answer her questions, Paul,” the man in the shadows said. “Then you can kill her, get your pictures, and we can be done with all of this. You brought her here to brag about how you bested Todd, so get on with it.”
Paul scowled. “Fine. What questions?”
“You hired Martin Burnett and Owen Parker to kidnap me, right?”
“No. That was Jeremy’s doing. I didn’t want you or Heather dead at first. Unfortunately, Jeremy was quick to act and had Heather killed before I could get to her.”
“Because he didn’t want you to know the location of the boat.”
“Yes.”
“Burnett told him about the pictures on Heather’s phone that she texted to me.”
“Apparently.”
Emily rubbed a hand across her head and realized she still had on the hood. She shoved it back. “So, Todd wanted me alive to get the location and later the flash drive from the boat and you wanted me dead in order to prevent that.”
“Yes.”
“Then why bring me here?”
His eyes flickered. “Because you have been a major thorn in my side. And I wanted you to see who the better brother was.”
“What?”
“And now that you know, I think I’m going to allow my friend to get rid of you. You caused him quite a bit of stress too.” He turned to the man he’d called friend. “Would you like the honors?”
The man in the corner stepped out of the shadows.
She gaped. “Who are you?”
He gave a slight bow. “Nicholas Jeffrey Raimes at your service. Childhood friend to Paul and Todd Bailey. Also known affectionately as Jeff by those who love him.”
His hand lifted, the gun aimed at her, then he shifted it slightly and pulled the trigger. She ducked and covered her ears just as the second shot sounded, then the third.
When she stood, Jake lay on the floor behind her, Paul in front of her, and Jeremy stared with blank eyes at the ceiling.
In horror, Emily turned to the man now aiming at her once more.
Linc pulled to a stop at the gated entrance while a helicopter hovered overhead, the blades pounding in time with the beat of Brady’s runaway heart. If they had guessed wrong, Emily could die. There’d been no time to do a reconnaissance of the place to confirm she was here.
But it was the only thing that made sense. “So, Annie sent me some interesting information. Paul and Todd’s maternal grandparents were millionaires,” Linc said above the sound of the rotor. “They moved here in the midsixties and built this mansion. They cut off their daughter when she refused to marry the man they’d picked out for her but reconciled when the twins were born. Then the parents split and Paul stayed with his father while Todd stayed with his mother. Todd and his mother moved in here but were soon kicked out because of Todd’s wild ways. Paul came knocking after his father died, and everyone says Paul and his grandparents were very close and he inherited this place when his grandmother passed. His grandfather is now in a nursing facility suffering from dementia. He’s had no visitors in the ten years he’s been there.”
Disgust twisted Brady’s gut. Paul Bailey had made millions in the human trafficking industry, working with Jeremy Hightower, Martin Burnett, and Owen Parker. Phone records indicated that Burnett and Jeremy Hightower were in constant communication with one another.
“I pray we’re right about this,” Brady said.
“You’re praying again?”
“I am.”
“Emily’s influence?”
“Yes.”
“I like her.”
“So do I.”
Linc lifted his phone to his ear. “Annie? Yeah. We’re here. Do your stuff.”
The gates began their slow open. Linc shot through and the mixture of law enforcement behind them stayed close. “Annie? Are the cameras out?”
“They are. For a short time anyway.”
They followed the curving drive, stopping short of the house. SWAT spilled from their van to fan out around the property.
“Blueprints?” Linc asked.
“On your phone,” Annie said.
“Thanks.”
“I’ve tapped into the security cameras inside the house. I’m not seeing any movement on the first or second floors, but there are three cars in the garage as well as a motorcycle. A THU is on the way with FLIR. As soon as it gets there, we’ll know exactly how many warm bodies we’re dealing with and where they are.”
The FBI’s Tactical Helicopter Unit with FLIR. Forward Looking InfraRed. Only the best for the bureau in heat-seeking technology.
“Got a vehicle at the back. Running the plates,” a voice said through the COMMS.
“Looks like the house is empty, according to the cameras,” Annie said. “But hold tight. Let me keep looking.”
The chopper announced its approach, the blades whomp-whomping far above them. But he knew they already had their heat-seeking FLIR trained on the home. Soon, they should know something specific. Brady’s heart thundered. What if they were wrong? Would Emily die because they couldn’t find her fast enough? No. No she wouldn’t. Please, God, protect her.
Hands held in front of her, Emily obeyed the command to sit at the computer. She kept her right side away from him, waiting for her opportunity to use the knife. If she could. She thought if he was going to kill her—and she had no doubt that was how it was all supposed to end—she could do what she had to do to protect herself. The irony hadn’t escaped her. In the past, she’d used knives, razors, or even a sharp fingernail to cut herself. And now the knife might be the very thing that allowed her to live.
He handed her the flash drive and she inserted it in the USB port before the order left his mouth. She clicked on the icon and a document full of numbers displayed on the screen.
Wait a minute, she knew that routing number.
“These are account numbers.”
“They are.”
“With a lot of money in them.” She cut her eyes to him. “Compliments of the human trafficking business?”
“Clever girl.”
She stared up at him. “You pitted them against each other, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t hard. I had their complete trust. A word here, a word there. Since neither knew that I was ‘working’ for the other, they were so easy to manipulate. The only real scare was when Jeremy went off on his own and sank the boat. Then killed the one person besides himself who knew where it was.”
“He also killed two of the three men who helped him.” That black-and-green face pressed up against the shower door flashed, and she shuddered, swallowing the instant sensation of nausea.
“Oh yeah, he was trying to blackmail Paul into paying him more.”
“I’m guessing Paul had no interest in that?”
“No.” He nodded to the computer. “Those are Paul’s account numbers. All told, he has over sixty-two million dollars in liquid cash. I believe I could live very well on that.”
“Gabe got you these numbers, didn’t he?”
“Yes. Mr. Kingman was the beginning. You see, Paul was a very arrogant man. A psychopath, no doubt. He took joy in killing. I also knew he had pictures of some of his crimes on his laptop. Killings he’d done right here in this room. I simply found someone who needed a lot of money and had the skills to hack into Paul’s computer and download the pictures. Reuben Kingman fit that description perfectly. I paid him handsomely to deliver them to Todd Bailey, along with a print of one of the pictures to Paul to let him know someone had breached his security. Unfortunately, one of Paul’s men witnessed the exchange and took photos of the transaction between Todd and Kingman. Needless to say, Paul was enraged.”
“And kille
d Gabe.”
“Indeed.”
“You set him up, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. He was greedy and hated his life. He thought the money would buy him some happiness.”
Tears clouded her vision and she blinked them away. She could cry later. “So you knew what each brother was up to and finagled things to work against them and in your favor.”
“That’s a pretty simple summary, but I have to say, it’s very accurate.”
“Todd knew about the account numbers, didn’t he?”
“Of course. He was beyond excited to steal all of that money from his brother. You see, Paul, at my urging, had stolen most everything Todd had ever worked for. So Todd was most happy to go along with my plans. Until he learned about the pictures that could put Paul away for life. Those consumed him to the point that he didn’t even care about the account numbers or the money anymore. Of course, once Paul was in prison, Todd would have taken the money and gloated the rest of his life.”
“Only you neglected to tell him how the plan was really going to play out. With him dead.”
“Yes. I might have left that little detail out.”
“And now, you want me to transfer the money to your accounts, then you kill me and live happily ever after.”
“Again, a simple summary, but yes.”
“Well, if I’m going to die anyway, why should I do it?”
“Because while you’re going to die, you get to choose whether it’s quick and easy . . .” He placed the gun against her temple. “Or slow and painful.” He moved the barrel to her elbow.
She swallowed. Come on, Brady, I know you’re looking for me. Please, God, let him find me in time.
“So, use your remote login and do your thing.” He glanced at a screen over the door and tensed. “Now.”
She flicked a glance at the screen and didn’t see anything. Her mind raced. How was she going to do this? The transfers would take a few minutes, but she needed to get a message to Brady. But with Raimes looking over her shoulder, she wouldn’t be able to do anything.
But she still had the knife.
She logged her way in to the bank software, deliberately messing up her password the first time.
“You better be able to get in.”
“Sorry.” She shot him a baleful look. “My fingers are a little shaky.”
With the next attempt, she was in.
A shadow at the small window to her left caught her attention and she ignored it. However, it gave her hope and sent her prayers into overdrive. “Okay, I need the account number you want to transfer the funds to.”
He put it on the table in front of her. “How long will it take?”
“There are a lot of accounts here and I have to enter everything manually. Probably fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Get to it.”
Emily did, going slower than her normal rate, praying she was buying herself some time. The man next to her finally started pacing.
But he never had his back to her for very long. However, on his next trek to the far wall, she pulled up the bank’s message system and typed in Brady’s number. The fact that she actually remembered it astounded her. On his way back, she shut the box and moved to the next account number.
Raimes stopped to look over her shoulder and her heart thundered a frantic beat—until he moved away to pace again. She immediately pulled the box up and typed, “In the basement, back door, steps lead down, door is open. Raimes is behind it all.”
She shut the box and returned to the accounts.
“How much longer!”
Emily flinched. “Just a few more minutes.”
As she watched the money go into the accounts, she silently prayed. Time was running out. That meant it was time to make a decision.
On Raimes’s next nervous stride to the wall, she let her hand go to the knife at her side. Nerves quivered inside her.
And the door flew open.
“Police! Hands up, hands up!”
A hard hand grabbed her by the hair, halting her mid-flight. Her neck snapped back and pain arced through her. But the hard barrel of the gun against her temple froze her.
And she was so over it.
She twisted her right hand and jabbed back. A harsh cry escaped him and he stumbled back. Emily went to the floor. A loud crack had her ears ringing, and she rolled, covered her head, and three more pops filled the air.
For a split second, everything was silent. Then hands were on her biceps pulling her away from the man writhing on the floor. Blood gushed from the wound in his thigh.
He gasped, fear written across his face, and she locked eyes with him. She was watching a man die right in front of her. Soon, he’d breathe his last and step into eternity. A surge of compassion flooded her, and she pulled away from the hands and dropped to her knees beside him.
“Repent, Jeff,” she whispered. “Don’t die with this on your soul.”
“H-how?” He coughed and blood spilled from his lips.
“Call out to Jesus,” she said. “Tell him you’re sorry and ask him to forgive you . . .” His eyes had glazed over. But another breath rattled into his lungs. “Do you hear me? Did you pray it?”
She thought he gave a short nod before his eyes went blank.
And Emily burst into tears. This time she let the hands lead her away, up the stairs, and out into the sunset.
Brady sank to the ground with his arms around her and simply held her.
29
SIX WEEKS LATER
Emily and Brady sat on the end of the dock while the other St. John siblings played a rousing game of Phase 10 on the glassed-in porch.
“You want to dive?” he asked.
“We can, but I’m content just to sit here and talk to you. The dry suit is keeping me warm.”
He slid an arm around her. “I hope being next to me has something to do with keeping you warm.”
She laughed. Over the past six weeks, they’d spent every spare minute together, working around their work schedules to get to know one another, dive, and repair their battle-weary souls. “I feel so awful Claire Beaumont was a victim of Paul’s. His evil touched—and hurt—so many people.” The woman had been found dead, wrapped in plastic and stuffed into the extra freezer she’d had in her balcony storage area. “I can’t help but think about her every so often.”
“Yeah. I know.”
They fell silent and Emily leaned into Brady’s embrace.
Snuggled against this man’s side had become her very favorite place in the world—even if she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. And hated that she kept waiting.
“Can I ask you a question?” Brady asked. “It’s been bugging me for a while.”
“Of course.”
He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “How could you do it? I mean it was amazing and exactly what you should have done, and I’m just having a hard time with it.”
She drew back and frowned at him. “Do what?”
“Basically lead that killer into heaven. He’s in heaven now, thanks to you.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Brady. This world is so messed up. Sometimes, I wonder if there’s any good left. And then God places people in my life that say there is. People matter. Even the ones who hurt others. I don’t deserve heaven and Nicholas Raimes certainly doesn’t, but I don’t wish him an eternity in hell, either.” She relaxed and rested her head back against him. “All I could see was the thief on the cross and Jesus forgiving him.” She sighed. “So many people died over the course of all of that craziness. People who I believe will spend eternity separated from God. I just didn’t want the devil to win another one.”
“And that’s why I’m falling in love with you, Emily Chastain,” he said softly. “If you can’t think back over what you just said and understand that, then you are way more hardheaded than I thought.”
She went still. “You asked me that question on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Ye
p.”
“Because you already knew why I did it.”
“Yep. It’s a clear example of who you are. One of many examples of your true character. And I don’t have any trouble at all seeing them.”
“But you knew I needed to say it out loud and hear it for myself?”
“Uh-huh. Something like that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I think I have an inkling of what you’re getting at.” She smiled. “All my life I’ve let my weight define me. Well, up until about nine or ten years ago, but it’s a constant battle not to let it batter my self-esteem. And while I’ll probably never be happy with the number on the scale, it doesn’t mean I can’t find peace and happiness in other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like confirmation that God really does have a plan for me—mostly because I’m not dead and probably should be.”
“Well, you were pretty instrumental in bringing down that human trafficking ring. Thirty-seven people in all. And over a hundred rescued victims? That’s phenomenal.”
“Yeah. I do feel good about that.”
“So does Heather’s boss. He was really happy when you showed up to talk to him.”
“I did it for Heather. She deserved the credit for that story. I’m glad he gave it to her.”
“Amen.” He paused. “What else can you have peace and happiness about?”
She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m beginning to understand and really believe that I can trust you unconditionally. I don’t think I’ve ever truly had that with anyone but Heather.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to hear that for a while.” He cleared his throat. “And the Gilstraps? They’re okay?”
“They will be. Mrs. Gilstrap apologized for blaming me. She said she was really just mad at Heather and was projecting that on to me. She asked if she could still be a part of my life. Of course I said yes.”
“And your mother and sis—dau—sis—?”
“Sister. She’s my sister. And she’s happy. I want to get to know her, though, and once I reassured Mom that I had no intention of trying to take Sophia away from her, she was like another person. And,” she said, “she finally said she was sorry for blaming me for my father’s death. Apparently, my father was very jealous of me, and in order to keep him from beating her to death, she kept me at arm’s length.” Which explained why her mom felt free to express love to Sophia. Emily swiped a hand across her cheek and realized she was crying. Again. At least these were good tears. “We won’t have a relationship overnight, but I think it’s possible that, in the near future, we can at least be in the same room with each other without one of us doing or saying something to make the other one mad.”
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