An Eye for an Eye

by Irene Hannon

  As the two men disappeared out the door, Emily closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath. The interview had taken a turn she hadn’t expected. Or liked. Until a few minutes ago, she’d assumed the shooter had been either a fanatic or someone after Mark. It had never occurred to her that she might be his target.

  Even now, the whole notion was ludicrous. Aside from Jack Hanley, there was no one in her life capable of thinking about shooting her, let alone doing it. And she was certain the troubled executive wouldn’t take such extreme measures, either.

  However, given the look on Mark’s face, she suspected that convincing him of that was going to be a formidable challenge.

  “We need this guy’s name.” Sergeant Montgomery turned to Mark as the door shut behind them.

  “I know.”

  Coop rose as the two men stepped into the hall. Mark filled him in as they clustered outside Emily’s room.

  “We can always resort to legal means to get his name, if necessary,” the detective pointed out.

  “I’d rather not go down that road if we can avoid it. Let me work on it.”

  “Besides checking this guy out, I don’t see any obvious reason why Dr. Lawson would be a target.”

  “Me neither. I’ll be in touch, Sergeant. Thanks.”

  With a wave, the man headed toward the elevators.

  “The background check on her may be finished by now,” Coop offered. “We could ask Steve to have someone fax it to Nick’s house.”

  “I doubt it will be much help, but let’s take a look. I’m heading back in to give this one more try.”

  “I’ll call Steve. Good luck.”

  The determined set of Emily’s jaw as Mark reentered her room wasn’t a good sign. But he was more concerned about the drawn, pinched look around her mouth and her lack of color.

  She needed the pain medication. Now.

  Moving beside the bed, Mark perched on the edge instead of taking the chair. The Bible that had been on the nightstand rested in her hands.

  “Still a believer, I see.”

  “You aren’t?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot in my job, Emily. Too much. It’s hard to reconcile most of it with a loving God.”

  “I’m sorry, Mark.” Regret pooled in her eyes. “I can’t imagine walking through life without God by my side.”

  He refrained from asking her where God had been a few hours ago when a bullet had ripped through her arm and she’d almost bled to death. Or where he’d been when her husband had perished in a fire. Faith wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss tonight.

  Instead, he reached over and tucked her hair back behind her ear, the whisper of a smile touching his lips.

  “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?”

  He sensed the subtle relaxing of her muscles. She’d been prepared to do battle to protect her client, and he’d disarmed her by stepping back from the fight.

  “Before all this happened, I was looking forward to a very quiet Saturday.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you planned.”

  “So am I. But I’m not sorry our paths crossed again. It’s been good catching up.”

  “We’re just getting started. I’m not about to let you disappear again when it’s obvious fate brought us together. I hear you’ll be released tomorrow. How about I give you a ride home? We could stop on the way and have that cold drink we never got around to this morning.”

  A smile curved her lips. “My neighbor volunteered to pick me up, but I think I like your offer better.”

  “Good.” He needed to tackle the hard stuff again, but he wished he didn’t. He would have much preferred a simple, uncomplicated reunion. “There’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

  “Okay.” She gave him a cautious look.

  “Until we get this thing figured out, the Bureau would like you to have some security.”

  “Explain that.”

  “We want to assign an agent to you.”

  “A bodyguard?”

  “That’s one way to describe it.”

  She searched his eyes. “Is that really necessary? I’ve been by myself all day today.”

  “There’s been an agent with you ever since you left the scene.

  He’s outside your door now.”

  Shock rippled across her face. “You think this guy might try again?”

  “We can’t rule out that possibility.”

  “What about you? It seems to me you’re the more likely target.” “I’ll have someone with me too.”

  She stared at him. “They’re putting protection on an HRT member who’s trained to handle worst-case scenarios?”

  For a second, he hesitated. He didn’t want to freak her out— but he also needed to drive home the danger. “Yes.”

  “Wow.” She let out a low breath. “Okay. I guess I’ll take it too.” He hadn’t expected her to acquiesce so easily, but he was grateful she’d realized the gravity of the threat. “Good.”

  There were other security measures he needed to talk over with her, but they could wait until tomorrow. If the deepening lines of strain around her mouth were any indication, she’d had about all she could take today. “Why don’t you get that pain medication from the nurse.” He handed her the call button.

  She gave him a wary look. “Aren’t you going to push me about the client I mentioned?”

  “Would it do any good?”

  “No.”

  “That’s what I thought. But consider this, Emily. We’re very adept at making discreet inquiries. He’ll never know we ran a background check.”

  “But he’ll know if you ask him for an alibi.”

  “True. But we’re dealing with an attempted murder.” He waited a few seconds to let the full impact of his words register.

  “In that kind of investigation, no stone is left unturned. The man knows he has an anger problem. He knows he’s mouthed off to you. It’s not unreasonable the police would want to check him out. In any case, we’re not obligated to identify the nature of the investigation or the parties involved when we question someone.”

  After considering his comment, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mark. It doesn’t feel right. He could put two and two together. And trust is essential in a counseling relationship.”

  “Did he choose to come to you?”

  “No.”

  “Would you say there’s much trust now?”

  She conceded his point with a shrug. “Not a lot. But there’ll be less if I identify him as a client.”

  He’d forgotten about her stubborn streak. And the way she could dig in her heels when it came to her principles, no matter the cost to herself.

  “I understand your concern. But there are extenuating circumstances.” He laid a gentle hand on her bandaged arm. “This was too close for comfort, Emily. If you are a target, he may not miss the next time.”

  She frowned and reached up to massage her temples. “Can I sleep on it?”

  After a brief hesitation, Mark nodded. “Okay. I’ll be by in the morning.” He scrutinized her and pushed the call button himself.

  “You waited too long to ask for the pain pills.”

  “They put me to sleep.”

  “Sleep is good. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

  “What can I do for you, Dr. Lawson?” The nurse’s voice came over the intercom.

  “I think I can use that pain medication now.”

  “I’ll be right in.”

  As Mark moved the call button aside, he gave Emily a sympathetic look. “Nights are always the worst for pain.”

  She dredged up a smile. “The voice of recent experience.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Have you been shot before this last incident?”

  “I have my share of battle scars.”

  “You’re dodging the question.”

  He was saved from having to reply by the appearance of the nurse, who moved beside the bed.

  “We can do pill
s or I can administer the medication through the IV, which is faster-acting. Any preference?”

  “The IV.”

  Emily’s immediate response confirmed Mark’s assessment that she’d waited far too long to ask for help with the pain.

  The nurse injected the medication and smiled at Emily. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”

  As she exited, Emily turned to Mark. “You probably have places to go. It’s Saturday night. You might be able to salvage a few hours.”

  “If I leave now, Nick will have me wielding a paintbrush within the hour.”

  “Who’s Nick?”

  “My roommate. A classmate from the FBI Academy who works in the St. Louis office. He’s rehabbing an old house, and in exchange for a place to stay, he puts me to work every chance he gets. He’ll have Coop climbing ladders too, before he’s through.”

  “Your partner’s here?”

  “Yes. My boss in Quantico sent him in to help with the case, and he’s staying with Nick too. Except I found out today he’s allergic to drywall dust.” He gave her a rueful smile and shook his head. “He’s never going to let me live this down.”

  She gave a soft laugh. Already she was drifting. “I’ll have to meet him.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  There was silence for a couple of minutes. Her eyes flickered closed, and Mark was relieved to see her features relaxing as the pain medication began to take effect.

  “Mark?”

  “I’m still here, Em.”

  “You’re the only one who ever called me that, you know.” Her lips lifted into a wistful smile, but her eyes remained closed as she reached out to him. “Would you mind holding my hand?”

  He cocooned her slender fingers in his. “I’ve had harder duty.”

  “Mmm. That feels good. Thanks.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Em.”

  And in truth, it was.

  Darkness hadn’t diminished the oppressive heat, but at least he’d gotten rid of the long sleeves. Unfortunately, his T-shirt exposed more flesh to the thick swarms of hungry mosquitoes that called the mud flats along the river home.

  As he stepped into the boat and pushed off from the small dock, he slapped at a few of the bloodthirsty insects that were unfazed by the liberal coating of DEET on his skin. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t venture out onto the river at night.

  However, today had been anything but normal. And the heavy blackness of the overcast, starless sky provided the perfect cover for his task. But the darkness wasn’t a problem. He’d fished this river hundreds of times through the years and could navigate it blindfolded.

  The muffled putt-putt of the outboard motor, throttled low, echoed in the stillness as he headed downstream. Given the late hour and the dark windows in the few weekend cabins he passed, he doubted the precaution of traveling to an isolated area was necessary. But he’d thought through every step of his plan and saw no reason to change it. He couldn’t afford to get caught.

  Especially since the job wasn’t finished.

  According to the evening news, one person had been wounded this morning. That hadn’t surprised him. He was a good shot. But an unexpected move by his quarry just as he pulled the trigger had sabotaged his aim. His second shot had been a gamble, and it didn’t appear to have paid off. The reporter on TV had mentioned only a single gunshot wound, and indicated the victim was hospitalized but stable.

  He nosed the bow of the boat toward the center of the river, turned upstream, and set the throttle high enough to keep him stationary in the rapid current. Woods ran down to the shore on both sides here, and a quick scan of the secluded bank revealed no sign of life.

  As he pulled the pieces of metal from the sack under his seat, he fingered the remains of his dismantled hunting rifle. The stock had been splintered and fed into his barbecue pit this afternoon as he’d cooked a steak. The barrel had been cut into three sections in his workshop, the smaller parts hammered beyond recognition.

  Now, one by one, he dropped each piece overboard, watching as they were swallowed by the dark, swirling water.

  The necessity for this clandestine trip was galling, and a surge of anger welled up inside him. In a just world, he wouldn’t have to cover his tracks. He would be applauded for following the Good Book, for settling this score. But the cops didn’t see it that way. If he was caught, he’d be thrown into jail. And he couldn’t let that happen. He wanted to right a wrong, not give his quarry a chance to commit more sins.

  His failure today left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he consoled himself with the belief that it had to be part of God’s design. The Lord must want revenge exacted in a different way. And it was up to him to figure it out. He’d pray about it, and when he understood what was expected, he’d formulate another plan. A better plan.

  Because the next time he set his sights on his target, he didn’t intend to miss.

  5

  “Morning.”

  At Coop’s greeting, Mark stopped in the kitchen doorway. His partner sat at the small oak table, a sheaf of papers spread out in front of him. Judging by the half-empty pot of coffee on the counter, it looked as if he’d been there a while.

  “When did you get up?” Mark moved to the counter and poured himself a cup of the dark brew.

  “An hour or two ago. I already worked out. Nick has quite a home gym.” He gestured to the papers. “Your friend is one busy lady.”

  “The background material showed up?”

  “Nick found it on the fax this morning.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Gone. He said something about having to chase down a new lead on a bank robbery.”

  “He’s been hot on that trail since I got here. I’ve been working the case with him.” Mark sat at the table and took a sip from his mug. It had been a long, restless night, and he was feeling the effects. He needed a few jolts of caffeine to jump-start his brain. “Find anything interesting?”

  “Depends on how you define interesting. Personally, I think she’s a very interesting lady.”

  Mark gave him a wry look. “Okay. I’ll rephrase that. Did you find anything that would mark her as a target?”

  “Hard to say.”

  That wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “You want to explain that?”

  “In addition to her private practice, she takes corporate referrals for troubled employees from a number of EAP programs.

  According to the file, she’s quite an authority on workplace violence. That was the subject of her PhD dissertation, and she’s done a lot of additional research in that area. The results of that work have appeared in a number of prestigious scholarly journals. In her spare time, she hosts a radio call-in program every Thursday night for teens. She’s also active at her church and volunteers as a counselor one afternoon a week at a shelter for abused women. A place called Hope House.”

  Tightening his grip on the mug, Mark looked at Coop. “She could have enemies as a result of some of those activities.”

  “That’s my take.” Coop took a sip of coffee. “You knew she was married, right?”

  “She told me yesterday. To a fireman. He died five years ago.”

  Flipping through the papers, Coop pulled out a sheet that included a photo. “Grant Stephens. She never took his name. Professional reasons, maybe, since she already had an established practice when they married. It doesn’t appear she has any living family.”

  “She doesn’t.”

  “Nor close friends. Or a steady boyfriend.”

  The background check had been thorough. Given Steve’s propensity for detail, that didn’t surprise him. “When would she have time?”

  “Good point. I’m not even sure how she works sleep into her schedule.”

  Mark scanned the sheet on Emily’s husband. Nice-looking guy, with dark hair and a firm jaw. He’d been honored with several citations for bravery, and had died after the floor collapsed while he was trying to rescue a sleeping baby from a second-floor bedroom. True hero
material.

  Setting the sheet down, Mark toyed with his mug. “Emily’s workplace violence expertise and her involvement at the shelter worry me. We already know about one guy who’s not happy with her because of a job issue. And if she’s talked any of the shelter’s clients into leaving a partner, there could be a disgruntled boyfriend or husband out there.”

  “I agree.”

  “What’s your assessment of imminent risk?”

  “Low. No matter who the target is. Whoever did this appears to have had a plan that took into account behavior patterns and provided a high probability of a clean escape. Given the level of planning, I suspect he was confident he’d succeed. He could have a fully formed plan B, but my gut tells me he doesn’t. He’ll either throw in the towel or go back to the drawing board.”

  “To come up with a plan that won’t fail the next time.”

  “Yes.” Coop cradled his mug in his hands and leaned back, stretching his legs out under the table. “You need to get Dr.

  Lawson to tell you who her unhappy EAP client is.”

  “That’s my top priority today. And I want to talk with her about the women she’s counseled recently at the shelter.” Mark checked his watch. “You ready to head over to the hospital?”

  “If you’re willing to stop for a sausage biscuit on the way. That chicken Caesar salad Nick put together last night for dinner was good, but it didn’t stick with me.”

  “Tell me about it. He’s beginning to go overboard on this health-food kick he’s on.” Mark drained his cup. “Let’s go.”

  No media vans were staked out in front of the hospital as they pulled in, but Coop chose to park near the service entrance again in case a reporter or two lurked in the lobby.

  Following the pattern they’d begun yesterday, Coop got out first, signaling Mark to follow a couple of minutes later.

  Another agent was on duty outside of Emily’s room today.

  He stood as they approached, shaking Coop’s hand as Mark introduced them.

  “Everything quiet here?”

  “Quiet is a relative term,” the man responded. “No problems from a security standpoint. But the lady had a rough night.”