by LENA DIAZ,
A sinking feeling slammed through Rafe’s gut as he stared at the familiar block lettering.
No, this wasn’t possible.
“Something wrong, Detective Morgan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Maybe I have.” Rafe dug into his suit jacket pocket for one of the pairs of latex gloves he always carried. He tugged them on and gingerly picked up the envelope. It had to have been mailed before the bomber was killed. He looked at the date stamped on the seal from the courier service.
The package was mailed today.
Rafe swallowed hard, adrenaline kicking in, tightening his chest.
The officer sat down on the edge of the desk, watching Rafe gently work the end of the envelope open. Rafe peered into the envelope.
No, it couldn’t be.
He pulled out the timer.
His pulse roared in his ears. He pushed away from the desk and stood. The chair slammed back against the wall. Rafe shoved his hand in the envelope and pulled out the picture.
“Hey,” the officer said, leaning across the desk. “Isn’t that—”
“Yes, it is.” Rafe grabbed his phone out of his pocket and bolted for the door. “Tell dispatch to issue a code red,” he called back over his shoulder. “All hands on deck.”
He ran through the outer office, dialing as he went.
* * *
SOMEONE BRUSHED AGAINST Darby’s arm. She whirled around, her hand clutched to her throat.
The woman who’d touched her stopped in the middle of St. George Street, eyes wide, her face flushing the light pink of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to push you.”
She was obviously a tourist, wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Castillo de San Marcos, the Spanish fort a couple of blocks away. She was holding hands with the man beside her, and both of them were staring at Darby as if she’d lost her mind.
Darby forced a smile to her lips. “No problem. Sorry. I’m a little...jumpy today. Um, enjoy your stay in St. Augustine.”
The woman’s expression mellowed into an eager smile. “Oh, we are. I just love all these little shops. And we took a horse-and-buggy ride yesterday. So much fun.” She smiled up at her companion and they took off into the steady throng of people walking up and down the street.
This was crazy. Darby leaned back against the nearest wall and passed a shaky hand over her face. If she didn’t get this irrational fear out of her system, she’d be useless at work tomorrow.
A familiar, small wooden sign hanging over the door across the street caught her eye. The Bunnery. She’d been there many times, but even if she hadn’t, she would have known it was a bakery the second someone stepped out the door and she smelled the delicious aroma of fresh baked cinnamon rolls.
Sitting down in a quaint little bakery eating homemade cinnamon rolls might be just the thing she needed to calm down and regain her perspective. She glanced both ways on the pedestrian-only street, and told herself she was doing so just to make sure she didn’t run into anyone.
She certainly wasn’t checking to see if anyone was following her.
* * *
JAKE DUCKED INTO the narrow passageway between two buildings when Darby Steele looked his way. That was twice she’d looked right at him, which meant his skills at following people sure needed work. He wasn’t ready to let her know he was here, not yet. Their little confrontation was going to be on his terms, on his timetable, not a moment before. He waited a few seconds, then eased around the corner of the building.
When the door of the bakery closed behind Darby, Jake debated his next move. He couldn’t exactly march inside in front of all those people. Darby didn’t strike him as the docile type. She’d make a scene. He needed to catch her when she was alone.
He moved back into the shadows to wait.
* * *
“BREAK IT DOWN.” Rafe stepped back from the front door of the house to give the SWAT team room to maneuver. He didn’t know what they’d find when they got inside, but he had the bomb squad van out front with a full team geared up just in case.
“You sure about this, Detective?” the SWAT team leader asked. “Buresh wouldn’t—”
“Buresh isn’t here. I am. Break it down. Now.”
The leader shrugged and gave the signal. One swing of the battering ram against the doorknob and the frame gave way. The door sagged open and the team ran inside.
Less than a minute later they came back out. Alone. One of them spoke in low tones to their commander before the team headed back to the truck.
The commander crossed his arms. “Everything looks normal inside, except for the busted door. You ordered this because of a note? That’s a lot of wasted resources. And you dragged a lot of guys away from their families on a Sunday for nothing.”
“I don’t care one bit that it’s a weekend, Commander. Keep your men on standby. This isn’t over.” He raced back to his car. He hit Redial on his phone and floored the accelerator. Just like the last time he’d tried, and the dozen calls before that, the phone rang and rang.
But no one answered.
He hung up and called the station. As soon as dispatch came on the line, he gave them the cell number he’d been calling. “Get me a GPS location on that phone. Then get every officer we have out to that location, including the bomb squad. Especially the bomb squad.”
* * *
THE CINNAMON ROLL Darby had eaten sat like a rock in her stomach. It wasn’t The Bunnery’s fault. The food was delicious. Anxiety was what was twisting her insides into knots. She stood at The Bunnery’s front window, several minutes after finishing her sugary snack, and still couldn’t work up the nerve to step outside.
She studied the crowd of people walking by. Searching for...what? A man who’d died several days ago? A man who could never hurt her again, and who shouldn’t have this much power over her emotions?
“Darby, is that you?”
Darby turned at the sound of a familiar voice. The petite blonde woman standing in front of her was the owner of The Bunnery, along with her husband. Darby had known them for years, but she so rarely took time off from work anymore that it had been months since she’d seen either of them.
“Hey, Pam.” She hugged the other woman, then cast another glance out the window.
Pam followed the direction of her gaze. “Is someone bothering you?”
Darby fisted her hands beside her. She didn’t want to seem weak, scared. But she knew that at this moment, she couldn’t step out that door. She hated to manipulate her friend, but she didn’t want to get into a long conversation, either, and tell her everything that had happened in the past week, or why she was so edgy.
So, instead, she lied.
“An old boyfriend. He’s been following me today. I really don’t want to face him.”
“Do you want George to have a talk with your young man? I guarantee George can put the fear into him and make him leave you alone.”
Darby glanced past Pam to the far end of the long, narrow restaurant. George stood several feet above Pam, and was the tallest man in the kitchen, visible through the cut-through. If anyone could put “the fear” into someone, she imagined George could.
“Would you mind terribly if I just sneak out the back door?”
Pam wrapped her arm around Darby’s shoulders and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Of course not, honey. You go ahead and grab one of those fresh, hot cinnamon rolls George just pulled out of the oven before you go. And if you change your mind and want George’s help, just say the word.”
A few minutes later, with another cinnamon roll bagged and tucked into her purse, Darby was out the back door and in a tiny parking lot that serviced several of the shops. She made her way through the line of cars, emerging between two buildings that faced onto the busy road that funneled tourists through the historic part of town.
Castillo de San Marcos squatted on the green off to her left, guarding the mouth of the Matanzas River just as it had hundreds of years ago when the fort had fi
rst been built. Darby hadn’t been to the fort in years, and suddenly the idea had tremendous appeal. Losing herself in a bit of history was just what she needed to take her mind off recent history.
She hurried down the sidewalk, taking advantage of traffic slowing down for a horse and buggy loaded with tourists, so she could cross the busy street.
When she reached the wooden drawbridge over the moat, a wave of people jostled past her, their footsteps making loud, hollow sounds. They made their way inside the fort and Darby followed behind them. But when the others stopped to look at the glass cases of models and read the historical summaries mounted on the walls, Darby passed through to the open grass courtyard that formed the middle of the fort.
Pausing at the edge of the grass-and-gravel courtyard, she looked left and right, deciding which way to go first. To the right was the stone staircase that hugged the wall, ready to take her to the battlements where she could look out at the river. She decided to save that awesome view as her treat when she finished her tour. For now, she’d head to the left and explore the labyrinth of stone-walled cells where prisoners had been kept, and the rooms where the soldiers had been housed.
The first cell she entered was so low she had to duck her head. A feeling of unease swept through her because it was dark and close, but she forced herself not to give in to her fear. The interior was cool, a welcome contrast to the muggy heat outside. And there weren’t any tourists here, which was a big plus in her book.
“Finally, we’re alone.”
Darby whirled around. If she hadn’t recognized the voice, she wouldn’t have known who the man was, blocking the entrance, because she couldn’t see his face. The sun was behind him.
Just like it had been at the figurine shop.
“You’ve been following me.” She tried to keep her fear from her voice. But this was the same man who’d hunted her and Rafe in the hospital. Her instincts told her to run. But that was crazy, right? Jake was a cop. There was no reason not to trust him.
So why was she shaking?
“Yes, I followed you. We need to talk.” He took a step toward her.
She glanced at the doorway off to the left. Did it lead outside, or to another cell?
Jake took another step toward her, then another, his face no longer in the shadows.
Darby moved a step closer to the door, keeping to Jake’s right.
His eyes narrowed. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Should I be?” She took another step. “You did say you’d followed me. That doesn’t strike me as the behavior of someone I shouldn’t be afraid of.”
A buzzing noise sounded.
Jake swore and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. The light on the phone’s screen shined in the dark cell. His mouth tightened with displeasure when he saw whoever was calling. “He never gives up.”
Darby slid another foot closer to the door.
Jake didn’t seem to notice. He pressed a button on the phone, answering the call. “I’m busy. What do you want?”
Two more steps, maybe three, and she’d be out the door. Her entire body trembled as she eased one more step to the side.
Jake wasn’t even looking at her anymore. He seemed absorbed in whatever the person on the phone was telling him. “How do you know it wasn’t mailed earlier and just now made its way to you?”
Another step.
Then another.
She took off, out the door.
“Darby, wait!” Jake’s voice called out behind her.
She ran through the next cell, around the corner.
“Darby, come back!”
Daylight ahead. She ran for the blue patch of light and burst into the courtyard. She was gasping for breath when she half turned to gauge how close Jake was.
Her stomach clenched and she clutched her throat in horror. “Jake, no. Oh, my God. Jake!”
Chapter Twelve
“You’ve got to give me a better reading than that.” Rafe clutched his cell phone against his ear. He stood on the sidewalk watching the crowds of tourists while he waited for a better GPS reading from dispatch. The Bridge of Lions was visible just down the street. Sailboats lazily navigated the water on the other side of the Spanish fort in the historic district. All these tourists, enjoying the summer day, none of them realizing a serial bomber was in their midst.
“That’s the best I can do,” the voice came through on the phone. “There’s some kind of interference. The signal just disappeared.”
“How could you lose the signal?” He waved at one of the uniformed officers who was helping with the search and held the phone away from his mouth. “Check the marina. Maybe someone over there saw something.” The officer took off running. Rafe held the phone back to his mouth. “What could cause that kind of interference?”
“Lots of things. Buildings are the worst, something with concrete or brick walls.”
Rafe eyed the coquina and stone walls of Castillo de San Marcos, a hundred yards in front of him. The walls were several feet thick. He started walking toward the fort. “What about stone?”
“Oh, yeah, that would do it.”
He started running. “If you get the signal back, call me.” He hung up and shoved the phone into his pocket.
A shrill scream filled the air. Rafe froze, trying to pinpoint where it had come from. Two officers who were close by stopped as well, turning, like him.
The front entrance to the fort suddenly filled with people. They poured out onto the lawn as if a mass evacuation had been ordered. The scream stopped, as though someone had been cut off in midscream. The hairs on Rafe’s arms stood on end. He motioned to the two uniformed officers and pointed toward the fort as he took off running again.
When he reached the drawbridge, he grabbed the arm of a man rushing past him. “Why is everyone running out?”
The man’s eyes were wide with fear. “Someone got stabbed in there.”
“Who?” When the man didn’t answer, Rafe shook him. “Who got stabbed? Is the perpetrator still inside?”
“I don’t know. Let me go.” He yanked his arm out of Rafe’s grasp and took off.
Rafe stood to the side, helpless to stop the flood of people exiting the fort. He waved one of the cops over. “Crowd control. Stop as many of these people as you can and collect them on the green over there. Someone’s been stabbed, and one of these people could be the perp.” He yanked his gun out of his holster and held it down at his side. “Get the other uniforms over here and secure the area. I’m going in.”
He shoved past the last of the people running out of the fort. His stomach sank and he slid to a halt. Darby was running toward him through the courtyard, her shirt soaked in blood.
No, no, no. Please. He didn’t know what he was praying for. All he knew was he wanted her to be okay.
He shoved his gun in his holster and ran toward her. She met him halfway, her eyes wide and searching.
“You’ve got to help him, Rafe. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and tugged, but he didn’t budge.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Where are you hurt?”
She twisted out of his arms. “It’s not my blood. It’s not...” She shuddered and swallowed. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and this time he didn’t resist. He let her pull him behind her.
They rounded the stone wall and he drew up short, yanking Darby to a halt. No, not this. He swore and pulled her back to the entryway. “Where’s the perp?”
“Perp? I don’t under—”
“The person who did this. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I never saw him.”
“There are some police officers outside. Tell them to get an ambulance, and to get the bomb squad out here.”
She nodded and ran through the entryway.
Rafe turned back around and rushed to the opening of the nearest cell. Jake was lying half in the cell and half on the courtyard grass. Rafe crouched beside him. There was so much blood he wasn’t even sure where Jake was injured, or if he w
as even alive.
Jake’s eyes fluttered open. “Darby, is she—”
“She’s fine. Where are you cut?”
“Abdomen. I heard someone behind me and started to turn around when he knifed me in the gut. All I got was a glimpse of a ball cap pulled low over his face. I couldn’t even tell you how tall he was because I was doubled over.” He grimaced, and Rafe wasn’t sure if it was because Jake was in pain or because he was disgusted that he couldn’t identify his attacker.
“I told you on the phone the bomber sent me your picture. Why weren’t you on alert? How did you let this happen?”
“It’s not like I just stood there and let him do this,” Jake snarled.
Rafe took off his shirt and bunched it into a wad. It was hard to tell where to press, and he had to be careful so he wouldn’t move the vest strapped over Jake’s shoulders. He pressed the cloth against the largest spot of blood he saw. From the way Jake sucked in his breath, Rafe figured he had the right place.
“I thought I’d killed the bomber,” Jake said. “Three days ago. I didn’t think there was any danger anymore. What the hell is going on?”
Rafe shook his head. “I don’t know. But right now, we’ve got a bigger problem.”
Jake’s mouth curved in a rueful grin. “Yeah, you got that right.”
Rafe held the cloth pressed tightly against Jake’s stomach, trying to stanch the flow of blood so he could focus on his next task.
Disabling the bomb strapped to Jake’s chest.
* * *
THE SOUND OF SOMEONE running had Rafe turning. His mouth fell open in stunned disbelief.
Darby skidded to a halt beside him.
“Get out of here!” Rafe leaped to his feet and grabbed her by the shoulders. He turned her around. “Go on, run!”
She shook her head violently back and forth, her hair flying around her face. “No, I’m not leaving.” She shoved his hands off her shoulders and dropped to the grass beside Jake. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Rafe knelt down beside her. “Darby—”
Her mouth set in a hard, determined line. “I did exactly what you told me to do. I told those cops outside what had happened. And you know what they did?”