The FBI Thrillers Collection

by Catherine Coulter

  “Mama!”

  Katie didn’t hesitate, she was out of the truck, sliding in the mud and rain, running back toward her burning house, her gun drawn.

  Where were the idiots who’d fired at them? Surely there was no reason for them to stay now with Sam gone. But whoever had done this had gone over the edge. Nothing could surprise her now.

  She was crouched down, until she was under tree cover again as she made her way to the side of her burning house. She felt the heat billowing off her house, felt a spark strike her hand, and shook her fingers, cursing. She looked down to see her burned flesh. It hurt like the devil, but she had nothing to wrap it up with. She shook her hand to cool it, then knew she had to forget it.

  They’d thrown the bomb into the kitchen. Why? To flush them out? The kitchen was the farthest room from the guest room where Sam was sleeping. They’d probably known that. The last thing they seemed to want was to hurt Sam.

  It seemed like years passed before she heard the deputies, the firemen. The bombers were gone, no reason for them to hang around since their target had escaped.

  Suddenly, she heard another gunshot. At the same time, her cell phone rang. She yelled into the phone even as she rolled behind a garbage can, “Wade, stay put, that’s an order! The moron who bombed the house just shot at me!”

  Another shot, this one a good twenty feet away. She saw Wade coming around the corner, and yelled, “Don’t come any closer, Wade! Get more deputies and get down!”

  But Wade just kept running toward her, his gun fanning as he ran. Soon, four deputies were there, yelling, running into each other, trying to avoid flying sparks from Katie’s burning house.

  “All of you be careful,” Katie yelled.

  Wade was panting when he reached her. He saw the blood on her hand and turned white. “My God, your hand.”

  “No, I’m all right, it was a flying spark. Wade, take the guys and check in the woods. See what you can find.”

  Not many minutes later, she slowly rose to see Wade come running toward her through the thick rain. He was shaking his head.

  “Nothing?”

  “Not a single damned thing. Hell, Katie, this whole thing’s so off-the-wall. What do we do now?”

  “We search every inch around here and see what we can find.” She pointed him to the shards of glass sticking out of the mud. “They dropped that one and broke it, but its brother went through my kitchen window.” She looked down at her hand. Wade pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it around her hand. “There, that’s better than nothing.”

  She looked up at Wade. “Thanks. At least the bastards didn’t follow Miles into Jessborough. They’ve got to be okay.”

  31

  Miles had got himself under control because, simply, there was no choice. “Your mama will be just fine,” he said as he eased himself behind the wheel. “Now, Sam, Keely, I want you both to sit in the passenger seat and snuggle under those blankets.”

  They were wet and scared, their teeth chattering, and Miles turned the heat on high. “You guys know what? I’d really appreciate it if you’d sing me a song.”

  The children, bless their hearts, sang themselves hoarse. “Puff the Magic Dragon” had never sounded so good. He knew they were scared, knew they were dealing with it, just as he was, and he was very proud of both of them. Within minutes, he heard sirens, saw sheriff cars, red lights flashing; he pulled the truck off onto a side street while they streamed past, headed to Katie’s burning house. Thank God it was raining so hard, the house just might survive.

  He was praying Katie was all right as he scooped both children into his arms, charged through the door of City Hall, veered to the right, where the sheriff’s department was housed.

  Lewis, the night dispatcher, waved them in. Then the outer door whooshed open again and there was Linnie, running through the doors right behind them, wearing jeans, boots, a huge sweatshirt with an extra-large bomber jacket over it, and rollers in her hair.

  “This way,” she said and smiled down at the children, just as calm and cool as Katie had been. His own heart was pounding and he wanted to hit something.

  The phone rang and Lewis was on it.

  “Everything is fine,” Linnie said, leaning down to hug both children. “Listen to me now, I don’t want you two worrying. Your mama’s really tough, Keely, you know that. And Sam, your papa’s right here, big and mean, and no one would mess with him. Now, come this way and we’ll get you dry.”

  Sam stared up at his father, his small mouth working.

  Miles came down on his knees next to Sam and Keely, drew them both into the circle of his arms. “Linnie’s here to take care of you guys. She’s going to get you dry and warm.”

  The kids, pale and wet, stared up at him, saying nothing. They weren’t buying it, and he was trying his very best, dammit.

  “Okay, Linnie is going to watch you and keep you company, okay? She’s also going to lock this place up tighter than your bank, Sam.”

  “Papa, you’re going to leave us?”

  He said simply, “I have to help Katie. Okay?”

  “Don’t let those bad men hurt my mama,” Keely said, and burst into tears.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt your mama, Keely. I promise,” Miles said as he stood up. “You guys, stay with Linnie.”

  He mouthed a thank you to Linnie, who was gathering both children against her.

  “Wait, Mr. Kettering!” She tossed him a cell phone. “Use it. Call us whenever you can, right, Sam?”

  “Call me, Papa.”

  “You got it, kid.”

  “I’ll hug Keely,” Sam said. “She’s scared.” Miles watched his son pull Keely close and pat her back.

  As Miles drove back through the heavy cold rain, the driver’s window cracked down, he could still hear sirens. He saw the glow of the flames from a mile away. With the heavy rainfall, at least the trees were protected. He pulled the truck up behind one of the deputy’s cars and jumped out.

  The firemen were hosing down the roof of the house, but even with the heavy rain there was no hope. Katie’s house was gutted, and everything in it gone.

  Miles threw back his head and yelled, “Katie!”

  One of the deputies came running up, panting as he said, “Are the kids okay, Mr. Kettering?”

  “They’re with Linnie in jail, I mean that literally. Where’s Katie?”

  “I think she’s still in the back.”

  Miles said, “They shot at the sheriff’s truck. You’ll probably be able to dig out the bullets, identify them. Are you sure Katie’s okay?”

  “I heard her yelling,” the deputy said. “When she yells like that, she’s okay, just real mad.”

  Miles nodded and ran to the back of the burning house, rain blurring his vision. He swiped his hand over his eyes, and shouted, “Katie!”

  “I’m here.”

  He nearly ran right into her. She was leaning against a sugar maple, tying something around her hand.

  “Dammit, you hurt yourself,” he said, then pulled her tight against him, unable to help himself, he was so afraid.

  “Nothing bad, I promise,” she said, and pulled back to give him the ghost of a smile. “A flying spark burned my hand. It’s not bad. The guys who bombed my house are long gone. Wade and the other deputies haven’t found anything yet.”

  “Both of us know where they went,” he said. “First, let’s get your hand bandaged a bit better. I saw the paramedics out front.”

  Ten minutes later they were in Katie’s truck, Miles driving, headed for the McCamy house.

  Katie turned back to look at the devastation of her house. “Gone,” she said. “Everything’s gone, including all my pictures of Keely and even her chess set.”

  “We’re alive and that’s all that matters. And you’ve got your hat.”

  She was wet and dirty, her hair straggling down beneath her beautiful cream-colored straw hat, her hand hurt, but she managed a smile. “Yes, and now I want to face down t
he monsters who have tried to wreck our lives.” She drew her ankle gun and handed it to him. Driving with one hand, he shoved it into the waistband of his jeans.

  As he leaned forward to wipe his hand across the fog building up on the windshield, Miles said, “The rain is finally letting up a bit.”

  Katie said, “It’s nearly four o’clock in the morning. Do you think the McCamys will pretend they were sleeping?”

  He just shook his head, concentrating on not sliding off the road. “Unless we get lucky, and these guys have gone back to the McCamy house, I don’t know what we’re going to accomplish tonight.”

  Katie said slowly, “I’ve got an idea on how to get us through the front door.”

  Miles raised an eyebrow, but when she shook her head, he said, “Who have you called for backup?”

  Again, she didn’t answer. Her hand was throbbing bad now, she was sick to her stomach about her house and so mad she wanted to spit nails. Did she want backup? Sure, you always had backup, always. She just couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been the one to think of it.

  She blew out her breath and dialed 911. “Linnie, how are the kids?”

  “They’re locked in a cell with Mort, the cleaning guy.” There was a pause, and Linnie said, “He’s teaching them how to play poker. They’re distracted and that’s for the best. And yes, they’re in dry clothes and they’re warm. Everything’s okay here, Katie. We got this place lit up like Christmas, and there are four of us here, ready to bust heads if those creeps show up.”

  “Thank you so much for coming in, Linnie. Okay, here’s the deal. I want four deputies, Wade in the lead, out at Reverend McCamy’s house.” Linnie, of course, already knew they were on the way. Katie imagined that she’d spoken to every one of the deputies. “Listen, Linnie, this is very important: Tell Wade not to use sirens. I want a silent approach and I want them to stay outside and search for the guys who bombed my house. Tell them to be very careful.” She paused, smiled a bit. “Give the kids a kiss.” She flipped her cell off. “Turn here, Miles.”

  Miles was hunched over the steering wheel, trying to see through the rain and the fogged windshield. “He wants Sam beyond reason or else he would have given it up. This has nothing to do with money, this has to do with a madman, and what a madman believes.”

  That sounded simple, and exactly right, Katie thought. She said, “He must be well over the edge now, surely what happened tonight proves it. I wonder who he found to do this on such short notice. It’s got to be someone local, maybe someone from his congregation.”

  “I wonder if there were two guys or just one. The ability to talk just one member into doing something this crazy, much less two guys, boggles the mind. You said he was charismatic. I guess this proves it.”

  “When you put it like that, I guess one guy makes more sense. Still, we’ve got to be really careful.”

  Katie rolled down the window and stuck her hand out. “It’s not raining as hard.”

  “Your hand okay?”

  She didn’t answer, just pointed to the big Victorian house that had just come into view. “We’re not leaving without answers this time, Miles.”

  32

  The only sound they heard when they got out of the truck was the rain and the rustling of wet leaves. It was cold and there was no moon, not a single star, just fat bloated clouds, probably gathering energy for another deluge. There were no lights on in the big Victorian house.

  They were wet. Katie’s hat was still clamped down on her head, her hair coming out of its French braid, the white bandage on her hand soaked with rain. She could feel her boots squish as she walked.

  Katie rang the doorbell, such a mundane thing. There was no answer. She rang it again, then once more. She was smiling, as grim as Jesse Helms if he’d been a judge. Finally, she slammed her fist against the large wooden door.

  She kept pounding until, at last, Reverend McCamy’s angry voice shouted, “Who is this? What is going on here? Go away!”

  The door jerked open. Reverend McCamy, dressed in pajamas, dressing gown, and bedroom slippers, stood there, his face a study of anger and something else, something that was beyond what they could begin to understand.

  “Who is it, Reverend McCamy?”

  They heard the light sound of footfalls coming down the stairs. Elsbeth McCamy came to stand beside her husband, staring at them.

  She was wearing a pink silk robe that came only to her knees; it was obvious she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Her feet were bare. Her hair was tousled around her face and tangled down her back, and for once, she wasn’t wearing her earrings.

  Reverend McCamy, his dark eyes fathomless and sharp, raised his hands to his hips, and stared at them. They stared back. Finally, he said slowly, “What is the meaning of this, Sheriff? Do you have any idea at all what time it is?”

  Katie actually smiled at Reverend McCamy, showing him lots of teeth, and waved her bandaged hand in a shooing motion. “Do invite us in, Reverend McCamy. And I think a cup of coffee would be nice too. It’s been a hard night.”

  “No, I’m not letting either of you in my house until you tell me what’s going on. You both look filthy.”

  “Well, that’s true,” Katie said. “Naturally, since I’ve had my house burned down and we’ve been running around in the rain, I guess you’d have to expect that.”

  Still, he didn’t move. “Your house caught on fire? I’m sorry about that, Sheriff, but it doesn’t have anything to do with us. I don’t want to give you any coffee. I want you both to leave.”

  Katie paused a moment. “Well, there’s something else, Reverend, something you should know.” She waited, letting this soak in, then said, looking straight into those mad prophet’s eyes, “As a result of your hiring incompetent help, Sam is in the hospital with severe injuries.”

  Miles didn’t blink.

  Reverend McCamy’s mouth worked, but nothing came out.

  Elsbeth cried out, “What do you mean Sam is in the hospital? What’s wrong with him?”

  Reverend McCamy whispered, “No, this can’t happen. Tell me he will be all right.”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “I’m a minister, I will go to him,” said Reverend McCamy and turned on his heel. “I’ll be ready in just a moment.”

  Katie called out after him, “You’re not going to the hospital, Reverend McCamy. Sam’s in surgery. There’s nothing you can do. Best to stay here and tell us why you want Sam so much.”

  Elsbeth said, “You’re being ridiculous, Sheriff. We had nothing to do with this. What hospital is Sam in?”

  Miles said, “Do you honestly believe we’d tell you where he is? My God, you’d probably set the hospital on fire to get to him.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reverend McCamy said, but he was backing up, one step at a time. He was pale, markedly so, and it wasn’t that he was afraid of getting caught. It was because he was afraid Sam would die. His eyes, Katie thought, his eyes were quite fixed, no light in them at all.

  And Elsbeth? Did she realize her husband was mad? Maybe she didn’t want to admit it, but she had to know, just as she had to be involved in all the efforts to get hold of Sam.

  “My boy isn’t expected to live,” Miles said, his voice filled with rage. “Because of you, you fanatic bastard, my boy is probably going to die. Do you understand that, you moron? A six-year-old boy is going to die because of you! No one else, just you.”

  He walked toward Reverend McCamy, one step at a time, staring into those mad eyes of his until he had him backed up against the wall. He put his face right into his, grabbed his robe lapels, and shook him. He screamed in his face, “And you call yourself a man of God?” Miles yanked him close again, shaking him so hard his head lolled on his neck.

  Reverend McCamy tried to pull Miles’s hands away, but he couldn’t. He yelled, “You fool, you conceited buffoon! Sam doesn’t belong to you!”

  Miles felt the man’s spittle on his cheek. He p
ressed closer and yelled back, “He sure in hell doesn’t belong to you!”

  Reverend McCamy was shaking his head wildly, back and forth. “No! He belongs to God! And God won’t let him die, he won’t! I must go to the hospital, don’t you understand? I must go. I’m the only one who can save him!”

  Katie said, “Why won’t God let him die, Reverend McCamy?”

  Elsbeth said, “No, Reverend McCamy, don’t let them fluster you.”

  Reverend McCamy slipped out of Miles’s grasp and dashed past him. Miles let him go. He watched him stumble over a Victorian umbrella stand, sending it crashing onto its side and splitting it open. Two umbrellas rolled out. Reverend McCamy took off running down the long hallway.

  Elsbeth stood there in her sexy pink robe, staring after her husband. Katie and Miles ignored her, and turned to run after Reverend McCamy. He tried to slam the library door in their faces, but Miles shoved it back against him. He retreated back across the room where he did his couples counseling. There were three sofa pillows on the carpet. Why, for heaven’s sake?

  As they closed in, he fetched up against the book-shelved wall, his hands out to ward them off.

  Miles stopped in front of the desk, leaned forward and splayed his fingers on the desktop. “We want you to talk to us, Reverend McCamy. We want you to tell us why my son belongs to God.”

  “No!” Elsbeth shouted. “Leave him alone, do you hear me? Go away!” She turned on Katie, and smashed her fist into her jaw. Katie, focused on Miles and Reverend McCamy, lurched to the side, nearly falling. She saw stars, but felt more surprise than pain. Katie grabbed Elsbeth’s arm, jerked her close, and pulled both her arms behind her. She pulled her against her, leaned over, and whispered in her ear through all that beautiful tangled blond hair, “Just hold still, Elsbeth. Assaulting a police officer isn’t going to help the Reverend. We’re not going to hurt him.”

  “No, you can’t make me—” She moaned as Katie tightened her hold. Her pink silk robe came open.

  “Woman, do not show your body to these sinners!”