Then he took the knife and planted it deep in her chest.
Kate watched the life disappear from Paige’s eyes, saw the terror embedded in her face.
She lay like that for nine minutes and thirty-six seconds. Kate knew that because of the counter in the corner. Merritt said nothing, and Kate couldn’t stop watching. Blood soaked into the mattress.
Paige, oh God, I didn’t know you were pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you lie to me—or did Jeff lie to you?
She saw a shadow on the side of the film, then heard shattered glass and watched as a younger version of herself jumped through the window, looked around. She felt like she was there again, finding the booby trap, watching the digital countdown. She’d often had nightmares of those damn green numbers counting backward, and she always woke up in a sweat when it reached 00:00.
Then her aiming her gun at the camera. For the split second she was full face in the camera, she looked crazy.
No wonder the FBI thought she was dangerous.
The screen went blank.
Merritt leaned over her and whispered, “Now you know exactly how Paige died. I hope it gives you nightmares for the rest of your pathetic life.”
“You bastard,” she said between clenched teeth.
“I’ve had to live with that for five years. Watching the woman I love be raped and murdered. Because of you.”
She had been taking the blame for so many years that she almost said she was sorry. She was sorry because Paige didn’t deserve to die. None of the women Scott murdered had deserved that brutal end. But the truth was, she’d thought they went into that warehouse with full backup. She’d thought Merritt had sent in a full team. Paige had told her they were covered. She had had no reason to doubt it.
And Evan had come in, at the right moment.
But no one else had followed. Because there was no one else.
Had Evan followed them, fearing something was wrong? Had he died because he thought she and Paige had gone vigilante? Had he died thinking she’d crossed the line?
Evan had said something before he died. Something that had made no sense until now.
“It’s a setup, Kate. Get out.”
She’d always thought he’d meant Trask was setting them up.
She stared at Merritt. Maybe it was someone closer to home.
Why would Merritt want them dead? Was it her…or Paige? Or had he made a fatal mistake he was still trying to cover up? Or maybe it wasn’t a setup in the traditional sense, but Merritt’s own twisted way of proving to Paige she needed to quit field work.
Merritt suddenly stood. He tapped buttons on the DVD player and set Paige’s rape and murder to play on a loop. He pushed the machine out of her reach.
“Enjoy the show.”
Then he walked out.
THIRTY-ONE
KATE COULDN’T STOP watching Paige’s murder. Even when she finally closed her eyes, she still heard the screams. The sound was worse than the visual because the terror and pain somehow sounded more real.
And even when she closed her eyes, she saw that knife come down repeatedly.
I’m sorry, Paige, I’m so sorry.
She laid her head on the table and sobbed. The recording was twenty-six minutes long. She’d watched it seven times. It had just started the eighth playback when the door opened.
“Kate?”
She looked up, her eyes blurry, unfocused. Dillon. Never had she been so grateful to see anyone.
He rushed to her side, glanced at the screen. His jaw tensed as he watched Adam Scott slice Paige’s neck. He slammed it closed, cutting off her scream.
“What’s going on, Kate?” He tried to pull her from the chair to hug her, noticed the handcuffs. “Kate?” He knelt in front of her, holding her damp face in his hands. She shook in his arms.
“How’d you get this?” he asked, trying to conceal the anger rippling through his body.
“M-Merritt brought it in.”
“When?”
“A couple hours ago.”
“Good Lord, Kate.” He held her. She leaned into him, wanting him to hold her close, closer. Don’t leave me, Dillon.
“Why didn’t you call for someone, sweetheart?”
She closed her eyes, shook her head into his chest. Breathed in the warm, masculine scent of woodsy soap. “I guess I deserved it.”
Dillon held her at arm’s length. “Dammit, Kate, you don’t deserve it and you know it!”
Her lip quivered and he kissed it. Kissed her over and over. Held her close. Her heart rate began to return to normal.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.
“I need to get someone to take off these handcuffs. Will you be okay for a minute? Peterson is at his desk.”
She nodded, sniffed, tried and failed to smile to reassure him. He held her chin. “Kate, stop torturing yourself. Okay? What happened five years ago was a tragic accident. It wasn’t your fault.”
She nodded again, unable to talk. She took a deep breath and put her head back on the table.
“I’ll be right back,” Dillon said and ran out.
A pang hit her hard in the chest. Merritt’s words came back with a vengeance.
You had no one. Evan had been killed. Your grandparents were dead. No one knew where your mother was, or even who your father is. No siblings, few friends. Paige had everything! A family who loved her. Lots of friends. Me.
The loneliness of her life hit her hard. Dillon Kincaid was everything she wanted in a lover, everything she wanted in a man. But he also had a family, something she’d never really had and knew she wouldn’t fit into. How could she? She had no practice with people. No friends, no family. Growing up she’d been a loner. Not because she didn’t want to make friends, but because people thought she was odd.
And she was. She was a computer geek before computer geeks were fashionable. A tomboy well into her high school years. And when her grandparents died, the foster homes were a blur. She didn’t act up, but she moved every six months because of other problems. One woman had a job and was transferred out of state. Another couple needed room to keep a family of children together. An elderly woman died in her sleep.
Kate wanted a family, but every time she got attached, something happened. With Evan, she thought she had everything she wanted.
But he was dead, too.
Now she felt too old to learn how to be part of a family. Five years of virtual solitude didn’t make it any better.
Were these feelings for Dillon real? They’d been forged in adrenaline, in the hunt for a killer. When Adam Scott was found, could they have something? Something that lasted?
Kate didn’t know. But she didn’t want to let Dillon go. She was a loner, but she no longer wanted to be. She wanted to be with Dillon.
Quinn Peterson stormed in, Dillon on his heels.
“Merritt just nailed his coffin shut,” Quinn said, crossing over to her and using a master key to release her from the handcuffs.
“Paige was pregnant,” she said.
Quinn’s eyes flickered. “Merritt told me the other day.”
“I didn’t know.”
Dillon sat next to her, took her hands, and rubbed them in his. “You have to do something about Jeff Merritt,” Dillon told Quinn. “He can’t get away with doing this to her.”
“He won’t,” Quinn assured them. He ran a hand over his face and Kate realized he hadn’t slept the night before, either.
“Did something else happen?”
“I got a call at two in the morning that the police in Anacortes found a woman dead in her house. Paula Corbin. She’d been found by her sister who came by, worried because Paula wasn’t answering her cell phone or her house phone. The description matched the recording Scott sent to Kate, so I went out and confirmed that it was our gal. The FBI is working with the local police on collecting evidence.”
“What else?” Dillon asked.
“I talked with the head of the OPR this morning. She s
aid that there’s paperwork missing from the Trask Enterprises investigation. Someone took them after the fact—there are references to certain documents that are nowhere to be found.”
“Why?”
“Because someone made a mistake.”
“Merritt.”
“Possibly.”
“Remember how I said Paige lied about the backup? I think Merritt lied. I think he was trying to scare her into quitting. Because she was pregnant.”
“But why would Merritt jeopardize her life if she were pregnant?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t think we were on to something. There were a lot of people who thought we were making a mountain out of a molehill, that April Klinger wasn’t dead and we were wasting resources.”
“That’s clear from the reports—in fact, that’s all that’s clear.”
“I have a copy of everything that’s supposed to be in those files,” Kate said.
“Where?”
“Mexico. I kept computerized files of all my reports out of habit. I have them all on CD.”
“I’ll send someone to retrieve them.”
“Someone trustworthy. If Merritt had anything to do with that sting going bad—”
“You don’t have to say it, Kate.”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“Where’s Jeff Merritt now?” Dillon asked.
“He had a flight out this morning to Washington. I’m going to alert the OPR about this latest situation. I imagine they’ll be doing something about it.” Quinn looked at Kate. “Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded, glanced at Dillon. Felt warmth, strength, and love pouring from him into her. “I could use a shower.”
“We have a full bath in the break room. I’ll show you where it is, but we only have thirty minutes before we have to leave to catch our flight to San Diego.”
Trask watched the Kincaid family from afar for nearly twenty-four hours. Jack Kincaid, the military brother, was the most dangerous. He was everywhere Lucy was. To get to her, Adam would have to find a way to take Jack out first.
Connor Kincaid pretty much stayed at the hospital with the other brother, Patrick. The female detective lived nearby. The sheriff went home with her. The parents were old, they wouldn’t be a problem.
The shrink who screwed up his plans was nowhere. Trask searched the Internet, found out that Dr. Dillon Kincaid owned a house only a few blocks from where Lucy Kincaid lived. He drove by several times, but it was dark. Had he stayed in Washington? Why? Was Kate still there? Did the doctor and Kate have something going on? Or was the shrink trying to get Roger Morton to talk?
Trask wished Roger had been killed along with everyone else. He didn’t trust him. The bastard would turn on him in a flash. If he’d been able to get to him, he would have killed Roger himself. But there was no way he could show his face.
He’d darkened his hair a bit, nothing drastic because he didn’t want the dye job to be obvious. He wore sunglasses, stuffed cotton in his cheeks, and put on colored contacts. Brown. The overall effect worked to tone down his appearance, making him look more average. If someone who knew him looked twice, they might recognize him, but at first glance he could pass as a stranger.
All he needed was one chance.
He’d never considered a woman a threat, except for that bitch Kate Donovan. But now he had the upper hand where she was concerned.
He knew exactly how to draw her out.
The only people living at the Kincaid house were Lucy, her parents, and Jack Kincaid. How long was Jack going to stay watching Lucy? Soon it would be just Lucy and her old parents.
Adam didn’t want to wait, but he was willing to. He had money—a fraction of his wealth, thanks to that idiot Paul Ullman, who didn’t have the brains to avoid the feds and let him know what was happening so he could transfer more funds.
He’d wait, but if he saw an opportunity he would act.
He drove by the doctor’s house again. Still dark. When would he be coming home? He wouldn’t be staying up north indefinitely.
But since the house was vacant now he had a place to hide. To put the finishing touches on his plan.
As soon as he had Lucy Kincaid again, he’d put her back online. Send the link to Kate.
Kate Donovan would walk right up to his door. And then he’d kill her and take Lucy with him, to serve him forever.
THIRTY-TWO
LUCY WAS BACK in the cabin. Tied to the floor. Trevor Conrad stood over her; Roger and Frank flanked him.
“You’re dead,” she said, but no words came out.
Roger and Frank disappeared, but Trevor remained. “I’m not.”
He poured gasoline all around her and picked up a phone.
“Patrick,” he said, “I have your sister.”
Patrick ran through the door. “Lucy!”
“It’s a trap! Run!”
The room exploded. Patrick flew through the air, his head bandaged. He landed in the wall. She smelled smoke and heard Trevor laughing at her.
Sharp steel sliced her neck.
Dillon jumped through the window, his face and hands bleeding. He grabbed Trevor by the neck and began to strangle him. Trevor took the knife and cut out Dillon’s heart.
Lucy jumped from bed, still half asleep. Frantic, she ran around her room, feeling the windows and the door. Cool. There was no fire. Her neck burned. She flipped on the light and looked in the mirror. The wild eyes that stared back couldn’t possibly be hers.
The bandage that had covered the wound on her neck was in her hands; the red welt throbbed and bled. She stared at her hands. Blood coated her fingers.
Her door opened. Jack stood there. “Lucy. It was just a nightmare.”
He crossed the room, concern on his face. Lucy must have looked frantic. She would never have imagined that Jack could be worried about anything.
Jack took the bandage from Lucy’s hands and together they walked to the bathroom. In silence, he cleaned the wound and reapplied the bandage. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
She shook her head. “I need to see Patrick.”
“Are you sure?” He looked at his watch. “It’s only seven.”
“Now. I have to make sure he’s alive.”
Jack hesitated, then said, “All right.”
Lucy relaxed. “I just need to get dressed. I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes. Okay?”
He nodded and left.
She sat in the bathroom for several minutes, gathering her strength, trying to push that awful vision from her mind. Her heart was beating so fast Lucy wouldn’t have been surprised to see it leap from her chest.
The dream had seemed so real.
Kate felt a million times better after a hot shower. She dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the day before, and went back to the interview room. No one was there. She found Quinn and Dillon in Quinn’s office. Both of them were on the phone.
Quinn hung up first.
“Any word on Adam Scott?”
Quinn shook his head. “Yes and no. He’s disappeared again. My agents out in New York have managed to track down some of his identities, but they’re old. We were able to put together his past movements, but we don’t know where he went. He could still be here in Seattle—or he could be halfway across the world.”
“What about the yellow Hummer?”
“We found it at the airport, long-term parking. We’ve brought it in as evidence, but there’s nothing to tell us what his plans are.”
“You think he flew somewhere?”
“He didn’t leave the parking ticket in the car, but security cameras indicate that it went through the kiosk at ten forty-five Sunday morning.”
“Right after Lucy left with her family.”
“I flew her out of a private airport. She wasn’t at Sea-Tac.”
“Maybe he wasn’t following Lucy. Coincidence?” She frowned and sat down across from Quinn and glanced at Dillon, who was watching her. He hung up his
phone.
“That was Jack,” he said. “He’s taking Lucy to the hospital. We’ll meet them there at noon.”
Quinn pulled out some notes from a stack in the corner. “You and Dillon arrived at the island about two p.m. He brought Lucy to the helicopter at two fifty-six p.m. By the time we went back, found you, it was after four.”
“I can buy that he watched Dillon rescue Lucy. I think he would have monitored her online virtually the entire time he was gone. So he knew what happened, he couldn’t reach his people, he disappeared. Why not go to the airport right then? Why wait until Sunday morning?” Kate pondered.
“You think he was waiting for a chance to grab Lucy again?”
“Yes.”
“But he must have seen the security on her. Jack Kincaid could intimidate Osama with one look.”
“Right,” Kate said. “But he’s patient. He isn’t going to do anything stupid. And do you think Jack Kincaid is going to stay in San Diego forever? That man is itching to get back to whatever it is he was doing in Mexico in the first place. A week, if that. He’ll leave her in good hands, I’m sure. But eventually everyone will become complacent. They’ll assume Adam Scott left the country. And when they least expect it, he’ll get Lucy. We stole her from him. His ego took a huge blow. He’s not going to sit by and do nothing.”
“We’re not going to get complacent,” Dillon said. “I know what Adam Scott is capable of. He’ll wait a day, a week, a year to get to Lucy. And to you. But I don’t think we’ll have to wait a year.”
“Why?” Quinn asked.
“Because he’s been dealt a huge blow. That’s eating at him. We have Roger Morton in custody. Eventually, we’ll get information from him. Scott doesn’t know what or when. He’s fuming—betrayal by his supposed friend, Kate rescuing Lucy, Lucy back home.” Dillon paused. “I think he’s already in San Diego.” He opened his cell phone. “I’m going to warn Jack.”
Trask followed Jack and Lucy to the hospital. Visiting her near-dead brother perhaps? Interesting. Add another dynamic to the situation.
Fear No Evil Page 27