“If you’re telling the truth,” he said, “then you did nothing wrong, except what you were trained to do as an informant.”
Anger roused her. “I was an informant because they blackmailed me, and only because they blackmailed me. You saw the videotape of my foster father and me. They used it against me.”
“Who are they?” he asked. “And who is Brandt?”
God, he was cold. She’d just laid bare her soul to him, and he continued to question her like a criminal. “I don’t know who they are. The powers that be, I suppose. Isn’t that always who they are? Peter Brandt is my boss at SmartTech, the company I work for.”
“He’s the one who wants you dead? Is that what you believe?”
She turned away, refusing to talk to him anymore. She didn’t care what he did to her or what anyone did to her. And if you didn’t care, you couldn’t be hurt. At least she’d learned that lesson. What confounded her was why she hadn’t learned that her search was futile. Why she stubbornly held on to the fantasy that there must be at least one good man out there somewhere. God, how stupid was that? She continued to believe it could be him, and he continued to disappoint her. Someone should kill him for that.
“If you’re not the serial killer, who is?” he asked from across the room. “Who is Angel Face?”
She shook her head.
“Someone broke into my home, Angela. They left threatening messages on my pager, and when I didn’t respond, they killed my colleague. If you didn’t do it, who did? Who killed those other doctors? Who’s trying to kill me?”
She’d answered her last question for Dr. Jordan Carpenter. But he sensed that and came over to her. He knelt next to the couch.
“Angela, don’t stop talking. Help me; don’t stop talking.”
“You know more about me than I do,” she said bitterly. “You tell me.”
“I don’t know enough, Angela. Not enough to defend you.”
“What do you mean?” She turned to him, afraid. Her heart lifted, but she was afraid to believe what she’d heard. He’d said something about defending her. Was that what he’d said? Why? Oh, God, no—it was happening again. She could feel the tiniest quiverings of hope, the quick desperate thrust, and she couldn’t let herself believe anymore. She couldn’t.
CHAPTER 19
JORDAN’S black leather satchel sat on the coffee table. He pulled it to the floor and dug through the contents, searching for the cell phone he’d stashed in one of the pockets. If he couldn’t raise Firestarter, then he would find someone else who would listen to him. That might be the smarter move, since Angela’s story had raised questions in his mind about the agent’s veracity.
“What are you doing?” Angela asked.
“Calling the CIA.”
“Why?”
The hush in her voice made him hesitate. She was frightened. There was so much at stake. For her, everything. But there was no other way to go about this. He couldn’t take her back without the cooperation of the authorities. It was too risky, and he wasn’t leaving her here.
“Because no one’s heard your side of the story,” he told her, “and I’m going to make sure they do. I’m going to explain why you couldn’t have done what they’re accusing you of and why they have to let me bring you back without the threat of apprehension or arrest.”
“Why I couldn’t have done it?”
“Yes, Angela. Help me make this call.”
“I’ve told you everything I can remember. Please believe me, I have.”
By then he’d found the cell phone and brought up the phone book function, where the agent’s number was stored. He hadn’t trusted himself to remember this time, especially since he might have gotten it wrong the last time he called.
“Jordan, wait. Don’t call them.”
All it took was one button to initiate the automatic dialing function, and Jordan had already hit it. She sounded almost desperate, but the phone had begun to ring, and he hadn’t expected that. He’d expected to get a recorded message telling him that he was out of range, and the call couldn’t be put through. It was hard to hear over the crackling on the line, but if nothing else, he had to hold on long enough to see if a connection could be made.
“It will be all right,” he told her, mouthing the words. “We don’t have any choice in this.”
“Jordan, they aren’t going to believe anything you say!”
Jordan held up a hand, warning Angela to be quiet as a man’s voice came on the line. The greeting was disturbingly familiar. “Yes?”
“You’re there? Firestarter?”
“You have the right number. Go ahead.”
It was the agent, and Jordan didn’t know whether to be relieved or wary. For now he would play it right down the middle. If anyone was going to show their cards in this game, it would be Firestarter.
“I have something you want,” he said.
“Where is she?”
“In a safe place, and she stays there until I get what I want.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about concessions.” Jordan had done some research on the agency’s chain of command after Firestarter “disappeared” and had familiarized himself with names and titles. In the event he needed a future contact, he was going straight to the top.
“I want a conference call with you and the deputy director for operations. Angela Lowe has an interesting story to tell, and I intend to see that she gets a fair hearing.”
“A fair what? Are you crazy?”
Jordan could hear the scrape of chair legs from across the continent. Apparently, the agent had sprung from his seat.
“You know that can’t happen, and you know why,” Firestarter said, steel reinforcing the soft menace in his voice. “Just tell me where she is, and I’ll send someone there to bring her back. There’s no need for you to do it.”
“There’s every need for me to do it. She surrendered herself to me, and I’m not turning her over until I can guarantee her safety.”
“Oh, Christ, not you, too. What the hell has she done? She’s fucked you up, hasn’t she? And now you’re going to fuck everything up.”
“Nobody’s fucked anything up but you. Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone or return my calls? Listen to me. Angela Lowe was set up. She was set up by the company she works for, and I’m going to make sure she has a chance to tell her side.”
“Carpenter, don’t be an idiot. Carpenter—”
Angela was frantically shaking her head and trying to tell Jordan something, but the agent’s voice had dropped several decibels. He’d begun to whisper secrets in Jordan’s ear, such disturbing secrets that Jordan had no choice but to listen. It was also clear that he knew where Jordan was, at least generally, probably thanks to the satellite link.
“This is all part of her plan,” Firestarter said, “and she hasn’t missed a beat. She lured you down there to kill you, man. It’s not hard to dispose of a body in a Mexican jungle. People disappear without a trace, and she knew you would follow her. All her victims did. They became obsessed and walked away from their lives, just like you did.”
“That’s bullshit,” Jordan countered. “She had plenty of opportunities to kill me, and she didn’t take them.”
“Of course not; that’s not her game. She doesn’t want the easy victory. She’ll screw with your head until she’s won you over. But it’s your heart she wants. That’s how she kills, remember? It’s symbolic.”
Jordan remembered. His colleague had died of massive heart failure.
“Once she has you eating out of her hand, the game is over. You’re nothing, man. You’re dead. It’s all about control with her.”
Jordan’s mouth curled in distaste. He had accused her of the very same thing, but hearing it from this unfeeling bastard made him sick.
“I want a hearing and a guarantee that she won’t be apprehended or charged with any crimes. If I don’t get it, you’ll never see her again.”
“You
can’t do that—”
Jordan raised his voice, drowning the agent out. “She’s regained her memory. She didn’t kill her source. She didn’t kill any of them. It’s a setup, and I swear to you, she will tell her story.”
A sofa pillow hit the floor, and Jordan looked up to see that Angela’s face had gone waxy white. She’d dislodged the pillow to get his attention, and she was trying to tell him something without being heard by the agent.
“They’ll kill me,” she said, mouthing the words. “If they find out I remember Adam, they’ll kill me.”
Jordan moved closer, but it was impossible to pick up what else she was saying with Firestarter in his other ear. And it was too late, anyway. He’d already told the agent she’d regained her memory and that she hadn’t killed her source. Who else could Jordan have meant but Adam?
She looked terrified, and Jordan didn’t know how to reassure her that no one was going to hurt her. They would have to get through him first.
He drew a cross over his heart, hoping she understood that he was making her a promise. But by that time, the agent had launched into a diatribe, and he was making accusations against Angela that Jordan couldn’t believe and didn’t want to believe. Among other things, he claimed she was a pathological liar.
“And that’s the least of it,” he said, “she’s been diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic by a board-certified psychiatrist!”
“Who was the doctor?” Jordan broke in to ask. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
The agent was quick to respond. The psychiatrist’s name was Mona Fremont, and she strongly believed that Angela was a danger to herself and to others. Since the law now required that such cases be reported, she had made Angela’s records available to the agency.
He went on to make other claims that Jordan couldn’t refute and hadn’t expected. Jordan felt as if he were carrying a pack on his back, and it got heavier with every step he took. After a time, he stopped pacing and simply stood there, listening. The need to rationalize what he was being told was powerful, but he had to resist it now. He’d never taken the case against Angela seriously, but to dismiss the agent’s arguments would mean that Jordan was as insane as they claimed she was. The consequences were too grave. What if he’d been wrong all along?
His heart was pounding as he turned to look at her, and she was clearly frozen with fear. Was that guilt? Did she know the damning things the agent was telling him? Firestarter believed Angela was an accident that had alreadyhappened. She was delusional and could revert to that state at any time, and she was too dangerous to be at large. But he no longer wanted Jordan to bring her back. He had another solution.
Silent, Jordan heard the agent out.
“It’s not hard to dispose of a body in a Mexican jungle,” Firestarter reminded him as the tense conversation came to an end.
“Who was that?” Angela blurted as Jordan hung up the phone.
He dropped the cell back into the medical bag and continued to stare at the floor. “The agent who first contacted me about you.”
“What did he say?”
Jordan’s head came up slowly. “He wants me to kill you.”
The ropes cut into Angela’s wrists. They burned until she gasped. “My God, you can’t be serious.”
“He’s very serious.”
“But that’s murder. He’s asking you to commit murder?”
He barely reacted to the word. “When you’re on a serial killer’s death list, it’s called self-defense, Angela. The agency can’t take such extreme measures. They have no legal defense, but I do.”
“I don’t believe this,” she whispered.
His eyes were blue and painfully hard. “He said you lured me down here to kill me.”
“That’s not true. I didn’t lure—”
He was moving toward the couch, overriding her. “He claims you’re lying about regaining your memory. It’s all part of your game, and the Adam story is a ploy for sympathy. You fixate on godlike doctors, expecting them to be paragons. But when they turn out to be mere flawed humans like your father, you feel justified in killing them.”
“Jordan—”
“He actually wanted me to believe that you felt pleasure when you killed my colleague, knowing I would be the one to find him.”
“But . . . you didn’t believe him.”
“He said you’re a paranoid schizophrenic who imagines people are trying to kill you, and if I untie you, I’ll never leave this hut alive.”
“Jordan, none of that is true!”
Angela watched him kneel and pick something up. She couldn’t tell what it was at first, but she saw a flash of silver and felt an answering flash of despair. He was holding the knife. No, she thought, no. She didn’t really believe that he would hurt her, but a burning sadness gripped her. This was a man who saved lives. He wasn’t a killer. There had been so few things in her life she could take on faith. She had to be able to trust her instincts now.
“Please, put that down,” she said. “You’re scaring me.”
Jordan laid the blade of the knife in his open palm, as if he were examining it. “Angela, if anything that man said about you was true, then—”
He looked up and sent her imagination stumbling with dread. “Then I’m a monster and should be killed, is that what you mean?”
Panic stirred as he started toward her. She still couldn’t believe that he would hurt her, but her heart had gone so terribly quiet. It was impossible to take her eyes off him as he came across the room.
He rolled the knife in his fingers and changed his grip on the handle. The blade shivered and dipped. Angela sucked in a breath as it disappeared, sheathed in a loop on the belt of his shorts. He had put it away. He had put the knife away. She should have been relieved, but something was wrong. His hand was shaking. Muscle tugged against bone in his clenched face.
He looked almost angry. Yes, angry.
“Jordan?” she whispered.
“Christ—” He dropped to his knees beside her, shaking his head in disbelief. “A CIA agent is telling me to kill you, that I’ll walk away a free man, a hero, because I stopped Angel Face.”
Harsh laughter stuck in his throat. He looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say, as if he couldn’t believe anything.
“He’s telling me to kill you . . . and all I want to do is hold you.”
Angela let out a tiny utterance. It was incomprehensible, but they both knew what it meant. He gave her a tug and caught her as she fell into his arms.
“All I want to do is this,” he said, “to hold you until we both stop shaking. And then I’m going to find that agent and make him tell me the truth, the whole goddamn story.”
Angela was half off, half on the couch and clinging to him with every ounce of emotional strength she had. She had no arms to hold him with, and it was a struggle to breathe the way he gripped her, but nothing had ever felt as sweet as this unexpected embrace.
“Just until we stop shaking,” he told her again.
She didn’t understand how he’d come to the decision, and she wasn’t sure he knew, either. Some needs were instinctive and difficult for the mind to comprehend. Moments ago, he’d been talking about killing her and he’d made it sound like his duty to mankind. Now he was holding her and shaking as hard as she was. No, she couldn’t imagine what had changed his mind, unless he had the same crazy feeling she did, that somehow this was all inevitable; they were inevitable.
“I hope I’m right about you,” he said, gathering her even tighter.
“I hope you are, too.” She couldn’t laugh, although that was what sprang up, laughter. It stung her throat.
He swung back to look at her, and she told him the truth, as far as she knew it. “I don’t know for sure what I’ve done, but I don’t believe I could wantonly kill under any circumstances. I just don’t.”
His expression was thoughtful, searching. “I hurt someone once,” he said, “an innocent who didn’t deserve it. I do
n’t ever want to do that again.”
Angela found that remarkable. It sounded as if he were more concerned about hurting her than he was about his own welfare.
“Is that why you’re giving me the benefit of the doubt? Because you hurt someone?”
She could feel him release her even before he actually let go. His arms tightened and a sigh of reluctance escaped him. Her heart picked up those two brief signals and knew he was about to take away the warmth and the strength, even the ray of hope, she’d felt in his arms. There was little she could do but let him settle her back on the couch.
When he had the sheet in place, he tried to answer her question. “The agent should have told me to keep you here until he could send someone to pick you up. When he started urging me to kill you myself, I knew something was wrong.”
Angela was surprised. “You don’t think the intelligence community does things like that? I was only on the fringes of it, but nothing would surprise me.”
He shook his head. “It was a gut feeling. He was selling too hard, pressuring me.”
“So it wasn’t anything I said? I was hoping you’d decided to believe me. Probably foolish of me, right?”
His eyebrow tilted. “Believe you, Angela? How can I do that when you don’t know what to believe yourself?”
That brought a rueful smile to her lips. There was no faulting his logic, but she hadn’t meant that. She’d meant believe in her. Saying so was out of the question, however. It was asking him to accept on faith everything she told him and ignore the mounting evidence against her. The risk of rejection was huge.
She must have looked terribly forlorn, because he reached out to touch her arm. She liked him there, at her side, touching her bare arm almost possessively. Or was she fantasizing again, always fantasizing?
“I guess that was the wrong answer,” he said.
“I guess so, yes.”
“I don’t believe you could kill anyone, Angela. I have never believed that, not from the first.”
She struggled to speak. He had more faith in her than she did in herself. “Thank you.”
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