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Honorable Death

Page 18

by Linda S. Prather


  Greg was already on the phone, calling in a description and license plate number for the car. “Looks like he chose the wrong street to turn down. Our boys will pick him up any minute.”

  A thought niggled at the back of my mind. That was two patrol cars along our route. “I think Park has his surveillance set up on us, and it may not be a good idea for them to follow us to Marcone’s. I’m not sure I’m ready to explain why we’re associating with Sevier’s attorney and an employee of the cartel.” I dialed Park’s number.

  “Park.”

  “Do you have guys dogging us, sir?”

  “Protecting, Lang. I’m not losing another officer.”

  “We appreciate the sentiment, Commander, but we need some time to recuperate. We plan on disappearing for twenty-four hours.”

  Dave shook his head and mouthed. “Check-ins.”

  “We’ll do the two-hour check-ins, or at least one before we pass out and one when we wake up. There’s three of us. It shouldn’t be a huge problem.”

  “This place you’re going, is it safe?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe we’re safer there than we would be under armed guard.”

  “I don’t like it. You miss a call-in, and I’ll put out APBs on the three of you.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ll call you at”—I glanced at my watch—“nine thirty.”

  I ended the call and stashed my cell. The only person who should be calling is Marcone, and he wouldn’t use my cell phone.

  “Have you heard from the Wilsons?” Dave asked.

  “Not yet. I’m getting worried.”

  Dave’s lips were pursed and his brows knitted in deep thought. “We never had them on our suspect list.”

  “You can’t be serious.” I didn’t know if I was trying to convince him or myself. I’d been so sure it was Kurt and Katherine that I hadn’t given another thought to the Wilsons. Why didn’t Simon tell them what he and Kyle were doing? And why would Kyle hide that box of records in their garage?

  Dave glanced my way, his large gray puppy-dog eyes sympathetic. “I see it hit you too.”

  “Damn it, Dave, all I wanted was one good night’s sleep.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “Wow! Think your dad would want to adopt me, Martha, and the kids?”

  I could see why Dave was impressed. The two-story home was surrounded by three-fourths of an acre, which had been cleverly landscaped to hide the house from street view. An eight-foot fence surrounded the property, and the only entrance was a massive steel gate. “I think there’s an intercom button. I’ll get it.”

  I exited the car and pressed the button, getting a closer look at the house through the gate. Unlike the Lange mansion, this one had style and looked more like a family home.

  “Can we help you?”

  “Detective Kacy Lang. I believe Mr. Marcone told you we were coming.”

  “Yes, ma’am. One minute, Miss Lang, and we’ll open the gates for you. Pull up to the house and park. We can take care of your car later.”

  Dave had rolled down his window and was listening.

  I made my way back to the car as the gates opened. “I hope this isn’t a mistake.”

  “At this point, I don’t think I care.” Dave drove through the gates. “I’m to tired to eat Arlene’s roast beef, mashed potatoes, and carrots. All I want is a place to lie down for at least eight hours.”

  “You’re not tired. You’re dead.” I watched as two well-groomed, well-dressed men descended the steps. Both wore underarm holsters much like my own, and both were packing. A third man was on the porch, his eyes scanning the area around us. “Those guys look like feds.”

  “They can arrest me as long as they let me sleep.” Dave opened his door and stepped out. Greg followed him.

  My door was opened for me. “Chad Williams, Miss Lang. It’s a pleasure to have you with us. If your partner can pop the trunk, we’ll get your luggage for you.”

  I leaned across the car and popped the trunk. “My suitcase is in the back seat.”

  Williams called to the second man as he opened the back door. “Grab their bags from the trunk.” He retrieved my suitcase and smiled at me. “We have a room set up for the three of you. Mr. Marcone thought you might be more comfortable together. Anything you want changed, let me know.”

  They hadn’t asked for our guns, which was a good sign. We followed them up the steps and into the house. Marcone had struck me as a man who would furnish his home with modern art and furniture. I don’t know him at all. The outside was beautiful, but the inside had been designed for comfort. Much like the Wilsons, he had an open floorplan and the living room, kitchen, and library were all visible.

  “If you’ll follow me, please.” Williams led us down the hall and opened a door. “This was originally an old ballroom. We set up three cots for you. You have a private bathroom on the right.” He placed my suitcase on a cot. “There’s a dead bolt on the door from your side if that makes you more comfortable.”

  His partner came in with Greg’s and Dave’s suitcases. “This is Bryan Combs. If you need anything at all, find one of us. We’ll be somewhere on the premises at all times. The kitchen is fully stocked. Feel free to help yourselves.”

  “Will Mr. Marcone be joining us?”

  “No, ma’am. He’s presently out of town. When you wake up, I’ll give you a tour of the house and grounds.”

  “Does that mean we can’t move around freely if we’d like?”

  “No, ma’am. Mr. Marcone has given you free access to the entire house and grounds. We’re here for your protection.” Combs left the room, and Williams followed him to the door. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Dave had already moved his suitcase to the floor, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out on the cot.

  “Yeah, you can quit calling me ma’am.” I closed the door, slid the dead bolt home, then walked to where Greg was staring out the window. “What do you think?”

  “There’s two more outside. I think you’re right—they’re feds.”

  Dave was snoring, and keeping my eyes open was becoming more difficult by the second. “I know you caught a nap at the hospital, but you need to get some sleep. Did they say anything about side effects or problems you might have?”

  “They gave me the lowdown on side effects of the Narcan. To be honest, Kacy, I’m afraid to go to sleep. I remember the prick of the needle and the heat as the drug was pushed into my system. After that, everything was hazy, and I felt like I was floating outside my body. I think I died.”

  “You should have stayed in the hospital at least overnight. I was trying to stay awake long enough to call Park, but I don’t think I can keep my eyes open that long.”

  “Go on to sleep. I’ll call Park.”

  “All right, but if you need me, wake me.” I stretched out on the cot. “And set an alarm for six hours. Dave wanted eight, but we have a lot to do, and if I don’t take a shower and brush my teeth soon, I won’t be able to stand my own stench.” I closed my eyes, but my mind continued to search for reasons Marcone would be involved with the feds. If he were a witness, they would be protecting him, not me. Bodyguards. If Marcone is the cartel’s main legal advisor, they would send protection with him.

  Waking up in a strange place was never easy, but for those prone to panic attacks, it came with its own set of nightmares. The thudding in my chest was painful, as was the first deep breath I tried to take. I can do this. There’s no box over me, no smell of dirt. Forcing my eyes open, I homed in on Dave a few feet away. Lying on his back with his mouth wide open, he was making strange little sputtering sounds. Poor Martha. She has to wake up to this every morning. I watched him until my heartbeat slowed and my breathing settled into a normal routine. The room was semidark, a nightlight casting a soft glow with enough light to make everything visible. Marcone had gone out of his way to make sure we felt safe and comfortable. A father would do that, wouldn’t he? I had nothing to compare it to, as Kurt had never t
aken the role of father seriously. Rising slowly, I glanced to where Greg was sleeping peacefully. Parks had wanted to put him on a desk job. Dave and I didn’t need him, but we owed him. With a little training, he would make a good detective. If we live long enough, we’ll get Park to promote him.

  I turned my thoughts to my present dilemma. I wanted a hot shower, but I didn’t want to wake Dave and Greg. Glancing at my watch, I noted it was only two in the morning. I’d slept four and a half hours, and the alarm wouldn’t go off for another two. My body was still tired, but my mind was ready to go to work.

  Williams had said we had free rein in the house. Surely there was another bathroom with a shower close. I picked up my bag and tiptoed to the door. The dead bolt was tight and squeaked as I pushed it back. Dave snorted and rolled over on his side. I opened the door carefully, slipped out, and gently closed it behind me. Coming from the dark room into bright light hurt my eyes, and I blinked before shielding them with my hand.

  Williams was sitting at the kitchen bar, reading a book. He glanced up and nodded. “Up the stairs, first door on the right.”

  There were questions I wanted to ask him, but it could wait until I’d relieved myself and freshened up. I hoped the bathroom he was sending me to wasn’t covered in mirrors. One look at my reflection would start another panic attack. I took the stairs and opened the first door on the right, but my gaze strayed down the darkened hallway. I wonder which room is Marcone’s?

  Everyone gave themselves a pep talk occasionally. I was more prone to kicking my ass. I wanted to jot down some notes before the others woke up. Shower, teeth, coffee, Lang.

  I flipped on the light then closed and locked the door before turning to survey the room. Unless Marcone had remodeled, the bathroom must have belonged to the former lady of the house. Though not as large as Kurt’s, it was still roomy. The walls were flowered tile, and the floor pink marble. A lovely vanity set complete with an array of lotions and creams decorated one wall, next to a free-standing sink and towel rack. All the towels were monogrammed with a huge M. Kacy Marcone. That would take some getting used to. The thought struck me that perhaps my real parents hadn’t named me Kassandra. Marcone had said my mother’s name was Kayla. I could be a Katie or Kathleen. I made a mental note to ask him the next time I saw him. It wasn’t something I was comfortable talking about over the phone.

  Stripping down, I pushed aside the curtains covering the tub and grinned. Screw the shower. The biggest Jacuzzi bathtub I’d ever seen was waiting for me to fill it with hot water, slip inside, and relax. A supply of bath oils, beads, shampoos, and conditioners lined the shelves above the tub. I ran the water as hot as I could stand it, set the water jets on medium, poured in a coconut oil, and climbed in.

  Marcone must have a girlfriend. The idea irritated me, and I grabbed a washcloth and bar of soap. He was still a handsome man, and my mother had been gone for over twenty-nine years. Of course he had a girlfriend. What if he has a wife?

  What had started as an elegant bath turned into a rush to get clean and get out. I wasn’t safe with my own thoughts. I didn’t want Marcone to have a girlfriend or a wife. My hair was oily and matted, and I washed it twice then slathered it with conditioner trying to still my overactive brain. Once the thoughts began, nothing I did seemed to stop them. Mist clouded my eyes as I drained the water, rinsed off, and reached for a fluffy towel. My thoughts had turned in a direction I couldn’t bear. He works for the Colombian cartel. I’ll eventually have to arrest him or kill him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Williams was still at the bar when I came down, but the book was gone. “I made a pot of coffee if you’d like a cup.”

  I nodded and took a bar stool. “Coffee sounds great. Black. Don’t you guys ever sleep?”

  “We take shifts.” He placed a cup in front of me. “Your father called. He’s flying back this morning and asked that you stay until he gets here.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I sipped the coffee. “How long have you worked for my—Mr. Marcone?”

  Williams took a seat. “I don’t work for Mr. Marcone.”

  “I guess there are rules. Things I can ask and things I can’t?”

  He smiled. “Some. Not as many as you think.”

  Didn’t know if I didn’t ask. “Who do you work for?”

  “At the moment, I’m working with Derek Stevens.”

  Not the answer I expected, and not the answer to the question I’d asked. “I hope you don’t mind if we confirm that. I’m having a little problem with trust right now.”

  “Derek will be here later today too. How’s his brother doing?”

  “He’s holding up, but I think he’s scared of the lasting effects of the drugs they gave him.” My stomach growled, and I realized I’d eaten nothing but a few bites of bacon the morning before. One look at the pancakes Hilda had served had been enough to make me gag. I still couldn’t believe Dave had eaten them. “I don’t suppose you have some cereal?”

  Williams glanced at his watch. “Your partners should be getting up in a few minutes. I’m not a bad cook if you want to give me a hand. We’ve got biscuits, sausage, eggs, and bacon. I make a mean sausage gravy. We could be finished by the time they shower and dress.”

  A real home-cooked breakfast? And no damned pancakes. My mouth was already watering as I hopped off the stool. “Where do we start?”

  “I’ll get things started. Go wake them up and get them in the shower.”

  “Did we smell that bad when we came in?”

  Williams chuckled. “The three of you were kind of rank. There’s another men’s bathroom on the second floor across from the one you used.”

  I liked Williams, but I wasn’t ready to trust him. If he was working with Derek, then he was part of some government agency, and their interest wouldn’t be in keeping the three of us safe. They wanted the lists Kyle had stolen.

  Greg wasn’t a problem to wake, and I explained about the bathrooms and left him to wake Dave as I hurried back to the kitchen to watch the food prep. Williams handed me a pan and two cans of biscuits.

  “You never told me who you worked for.”

  “It’s better if you don’t know.” He took the biscuits and slid them into the oven.

  “I’d like to be the judge of that.” I spaced the biscuits out on the pan. “I already know it’s a government agency, or you wouldn’t be working with Derek. FBI? CIA? Black Ops?”

  Bacon was sizzling on a countertop griddle, and Williams was turning sausage in a skillet. He pointed to a second skillet. “Why don’t you grab the eggs from the refrigerator. I’d say scrambled should fit everyone’s taste.”

  I retrieved the eggs and broke half a dozen into a bowl. Williams wouldn’t tell me who he worked for no matter how many times I asked. The real question is why is he here? I whisked the eggs then poured liquid butter into the skillet and turned on the burner. My hands shook as I dumped the eggs into the pan. “You’re here for the lists, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, and I reached for a spatula and stirred my mixture. “You better hope you find it before I do, because you’ll never get your hands on it otherwise. I’m not letting you guys bury the truth.”

  “It’s not the truth we’re worried about.” Williams turned the bacon then removed the sausage. He poured in grease and crumbled three new sausages into the pan. “You should wait and talk to your father about this. He should be here any minute.”

  Anger was flushing my system, and I took it out on the eggs. “Why? He’ll lie to me like you are. You want the lists to protect your government buddies and let them go on killing women and stealing children.”

  The front door opened, and Marcone walked in. “He wants the list, Kacy, because there’s two undercover agents in that group. If it falls into the wrong hands, they’ll die. There were three, and one was killed four weeks ago.” He continued to walk toward me, his eyes conveying a message I refused to receive. “Her name was Yoshekita Saito.”

  I r
an through old clichés in my mind, looking for something humorous to come back with, but the hole in my soul widened.

  Williams prized the spatula from my hand. “Here, let me finish that.”

  I couldn’t break the gaze that locked us together as Marcone continued to walk toward me. “Yoshe?”

  He wrapped his arms around me and held my head against his shoulder, the way Dave did after a panic attack. “I couldn’t find her. But I will. I promise you, Kacy, I will.”

  His arms were strong, and he smelled like spring. Only the flakes of snow on his overcoat reminded me it was winter. It would have been easy to stay there in his arms, to accept what he was offering. It’s too late for this. I pushed out of the embrace. “I need some fresh air.”

  “Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. Don’t go too far,” Williams called after me as I grabbed my coat from the rack near the door and headed out.

  “Go ahead and eat. I’m not hungry.” The wind whipped my face and stung my eyes. I made my way around the side of the house and out into the trees. They provided a small buffer from the wind, but I was still freezing. I didn’t care. Yoshekita was a federal agent. She might not even be Yoshe’s mother. Yoshe was lost, and I had to face the fact that we would never find her or the lists Kyle had taken.

  Footsteps crunched on the frozen ground behind me. “Jesus, it’s frigid out here.”

  Dave came to stand beside me. We shivered together for another minute. “Breakfast should be ready by now. I know you’re hungry.”

  “Marcone told us what happened.” He leaned back against the tree, rubbing his hands together before lifting them to his lips and blowing on them. “He also told us what happened to Charles and Melanie Wilson.”

  “They’re dead, aren’t they? I sent them to their death too, like I did Simon and almost Greg.”

  Dave shook his head. “They’ll be home today. Melanie wasn’t as invisible as she thought she was, and when she looked into Yoshekita, the feds barged in and arrested them. They’ve been in a federal holding cell for the last twenty-four hours, trying to talk their way out.”

 

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