Deathtoll (Broslin Creek Book 8)

by Dana Marton

  Murph raised an eyebrow.

  Kate sighed. “We had a fight. I asked her to go back to LA.”

  “Best idea you’ve had lately.”

  “Freaking traitor!” Emma shouted.

  “We love you!” Murph shouted back, then he lowered his voice. “How do you feel about me moving in? Temporarily.”

  So not in the mood for this. Kate’s fingers tightened on the doorknob as she struggled to keep her temper in check. “Are you trying to make me run screaming into the night?”

  “Can I go with you?”

  “No! Do not make light of this.”

  “I was going to tell you the same.” Murph held her gaze. “I was supposed to go into Philly tomorrow to check out equipment for that zipline course, but I think I’m going to stick around instead.”

  “The accidents have nothing to do with me. I’m safe.”

  “Which is why you’re kicking out your sister?”

  “I’m not kicking her out. I’m…” Kate groaned. She hated when people turned things around on her, dammit. “Go to Philly, please. We can’t stop doing our jobs. Neither of us.”

  “I’d feel more comfortable—”

  She fixed him with a gaze so steely, they could have made medieval battle swords from it to fight dragons. “Do you ever wonder what would make me feel more comfortable?”

  “I said temporarily.” He emphasized the word as if it were a magic spell to unlock her common sense.

  She held out a hand between them, palm up. “This is a slice of nope bread.” She whooshed her other hand over it. “Topped with some nope spread.” She pretended to drop something on top. “And here is some nope bologna and nope cheese.” She placed her other hand over all that. “And another slice of nope bread.” She lifted her imaginary creation closer to Murph. “You know what it is? A nope sandwich.”

  He kept a straight face as he raised an eyebrow. “What? No pickles?”

  Damn him for making her laugh when she meant to be good and mad at him. Just like a man.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kate

  “Today could be the day I finally murder someone,” Kate told Maria Tuesday morning as they walked into work together.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “I want to scream about it. Had a big fight with my sister this morning. She left, and I hate that her visit ended on a bad note. She decided to keep her rental and drive cross-country instead of taking a flight. Determined to have an adventure.” She groaned. “Sweet cocoa bean heaven. Like right now? She has to do this now?”

  “She’s young. She needs fun in her life. We all do.”

  “But she’s not picking up my calls, and that makes me worry. And my car is coughing again. I barely got it back from the shop.” She read Maria’s unspoken words on her face. “I’m not going to ask Murph to look at it. I have to be able to live without him, dammit.”

  Maria, wise woman that she was, offered nothing but supportive smiles in response to that.

  “Was I unreasonable with Emma?”

  “Some worry is natural. As long as it’s not all the time. Have you scheduled that lab work yet?”

  “Haven’t had a free minute. But I’ll do it. I promise.”

  Maria stopped in front of her office door. “Everything will feel better after your second cup of coffee.”

  “The truest words in the universe. Somebody should merchandise that.”

  “We could start a girlfriend side gig. Nothing but coffee wisdom on tea towels and pillowcases.”

  “Deal. All right. You have a fun day.”

  “You too, Kate.”

  Kate walked to her own door, went straight to brewing that second cup. While the black gold slowly dripped from the machine, she called the hospital.

  Unfortunately, that ended her good vibes.

  “We can’t give out information on a patient. I’m sorry,” the man on the other end said.

  “I’m his neighbor. Can I at least visit him today?”

  “Family only.”

  “Neighbors are practically family. I don’t know where you live, but we’re talking about Broslin here.”

  “Your name is not on the emergency contact list.”

  “But you contacted his son, right?”

  “We haven’t been able to reach him. Or his other emergency contact.”

  Mr. Mauro had only one son. Who was the other contact?

  Oh God.

  “The other contact is Betty Gardner, isn’t it? She died last week.”

  The silence on the other end confirmed Kate’s suspicion.

  “Look.” She used her firmest tone. “Mr. Mauro’s son works on oil wells in Alaska. Even when you do reach him, it’ll take him days to get here. Betty is gone. That poor man needs to see a friendly face. I need to bring him some clean clothes and toiletries…”

  “I’ll talk to his doctor and see if we can put your name on the visitor list.”

  “Thank you.” Finally. Something.

  Joe Kessler, another one of Broslin PD’s finest—former high school football star, still practically worshipped—stuck his head in. “Captain said I should check in on you.”

  Kate put down her phone. “Everything is fine here. I take it Ian hasn’t been found yet?”

  “Matter of time. Want me to hang around?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, but thank you.”

  “All right. I’ll be in the neighborhood. Call if you need anything.”

  As Joe left and Kate finished her coffee, her first patient for the day arrived. Kate had three sessions before noon. Whatever else had gone wrong that morning, all three went off without a hitch.

  The first thing she did on her lunch break was to call Emma, but her sister still wasn’t answering her calls. So, on her way back from the cafeteria, Kate stopped by the vending machine and grabbed some chocolate and took it back to her desk. Her stomach was improving finally, soothed by her new, restricted diet. She was back on chocolate. The smell no longer roiled her stomach. Thank God, because she didn’t know how she would survive the day without it.

  Maria hurried by, caught Kate with the chocolate bar halfway to her mouth, and grinned.

  “I’m not using chocolate as a crutch!” Kate yelled after her. “We’re in a committed relationship!”

  She finished the bar, thought about going back for another one, but then talked herself out of it. Her favorite jeans were snug already. As much weight as she’d lost while she’d been figuring out her gluten intolerance issues, she’d gained the pounds back and a few extra ones lately.

  When her phone rang, she grabbed it, hoping Emma was calling her back at last. Instead, a ghost rose from her past.

  The name on the display made Kate’s throat close. Her heart lurched into a panicked gallop. Anxiety tightened her muscles. Where was all the damn air?

  “Agent Cirelli,” she said as she picked up, her voice embarrassingly weak. “It’s been a while.”

  “How are you, Kate?”

  “Okay. But I have a terrible premonition that I’ll be worse in a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Just say it.”

  “We have reason to believe that Asael is alive.”

  No, no, no!

  Kate squeezed her eyes shut. For a few seconds, she couldn’t catch her breath. In what universe was this fair? In what universe was this even remotely possible?

  “How?”

  “We’re looking into that. Our facial recognition software has been getting better and better, and we recently analyzed security footage at a small airstrip in Colorado during an investigation that involved a credible terror threat.”

  “Computers can be wrong.” Denial came rushing forth. “My laptop crashes all the time. Just because some software matched Asael, it doesn’t mean he’s…” Kate could not bring herself to say the word alive.

  “Partial match. We think he might have had work done.”

  “Like plastic surgery?” Kate gripped
the phone, feeling as if a whirlpool had opened beneath her and sucked her into a bad thriller movie. The script writer of her life needed to be seriously fired. “So, he’s a terrorist now?”

  “We don’t believe so. He just happened to come through at the same time as some men we’re interested in did.”

  “Colorado is far from Pennsylvania.” She knew it didn’t mean anything, but she said the words anyway.

  “Please keep an eye out. That’s all I am asking,” the agent told her. “Has anything unusual happened lately around where you live?”

  For several seconds, Kate couldn’t breathe. Blood pounded at her temples. Betty Gardner. Tony Mauro.

  No, no, no. “A suspicious death and a hit-and-run.” Her voice was high with panic. “Both were my neighbors.”

  “When?”

  “Mr. Mauro yesterday. Betty on last Monday.”

  A pen scratched over paper on the other end of the line. “Could be coincidence, but I can’t say it doesn’t sound suspicious. I’m going to call the local police and ask some questions, to be on the safe side. Is Captain Ethan Bing still the man in charge?”

  “He is.”

  The agent probably made a note of that too, because she paused for a second before saying, “We have no reason to believe Asael knows where you are, or even that he knows that you’re alive. We have no reason to think that he’s heading your way. I’m still working out of DC. If anything changes, I’ll come up. I don’t want you to be scared. I just want you to be alert.”

  “No problem there.” Kate gave a weak laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m never going to sleep again.”

  “Are you and Murph Dolan still together?”

  Because Kate didn’t want to go into all that, she simply said, “Sure.”

  Technically. Almost. They worked at the same place, saw each other daily.

  “Good. He’s a solid guy. Stick around him. I’ll also ask Captain Bing to keep an eye on you.”

  “He keeps an eye on me already. I had a would-be patient turn violent a few days ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. You had a difficult week.”

  You didn’t make it any better, Kate wanted to say, but she didn’t. She thanked Cirelli for the update.

  She kept it together. Her old fears didn’t break loose until after she’d hung up with the agent. But then old memories of her friend Marco’s murder rushed her: his shocked eyes, the crimson of his blood spreading on the white carpet, the assassin’s face reflected in the glass. Then when he’d tracked her down for the first time and the bullet had come within an inch of her face, how she’d swerved off the road and hit a tree head-on. How the FBI decided she should fake her death and disappear. But they hadn’t fooled Asael. He’d shown up at her funeral and tried to blow her up as she sat in the FBI van. A couple of years in hiding, then Mordocai found her. Again, she escaped by a hair.

  Only because of Murph.

  All those years in hiding.

  Then the news of Asael’s death. Finally feeling safe again these past couple of years. But, of course, it was too much to hope for.

  Death kept coming for her, again and again and again.

  Kate stared across her office, seeing dark memories instead of her furniture and anatomy posters. A cold, bitter knowledge filled her, like poison spreading through her veins, making her limbs go numb and her stomach burn with pain.

  Asael was back.

  * * *

  Asael

  Asael followed the white Honda going west on Route 76. Traffic was light, and he liked a drive. He didn’t have the radio on. He preferred silence and his own thoughts. Like what he would do with the young woman in the car in front of him, how soon, with what tools. His favorite part of the job was the planning.

  Scratch that. He loved all the phases. The planning, the hit, the reminisce-and-relive phase at the end. A good job well done brought him endless joy, made life worth living.

  Kate was too closely guarded. Oh well. There were many, many ways to skin a cat. If he couldn’t get to Kate, he’d make Kate come to him. Traps were easy enough to set. He just needed the right bait.

  When, two hours out of Broslin, Emma Bridges signaled and turned off the highway onto a quiet country road, Asael stuck behind her. And when she pulled over at a roadside farmer’s market next to a seedy motel, he pulled in right next to her.

  He stayed behind the wheel, pretending to scroll through messages on his phone while she went inside. Then he climbed into the back of his rented white delivery van.

  He opened the sliding door on the side that faced the Honda, then crouched among a small pile of anonymous cardboard boxes of various sizes, and waited, enjoying every second of the anticipation.

  If he wasn’t an assassin, he could have become a serial killer. He liked what he did for a living that much. But, as things stood, as long as people were willing to pay, and pay exceedingly well for his skills, only a fool would have worked for free.

  Ten minutes passed before his target returned, humming a tune under her breath. She must only have used the bathroom—not enough time to have waited in line to buy anything. Perfect. Plan A, then. He had a Plan B too, in case she came back with an armload of snacks.

  As she walked up between his van and her car, Asael pretended to be looking for something, turning inside, kicking a cardboard box onto the ground with his heel.

  “Sorry!” He grabbed for it, missed, pretended to land on his ass and laughed.

  The woman laughed with him, a pretty young thing, a bonus on an otherwise already great day. “No problem. Here.”

  Because her hands were empty and she’d been raised to be nice, she picked up the package and handed it to him.

  Except instead of the package, Asael grabbed her slim wrists, then gave her a good yank. A second later she was sprawled across his lap. Another second and the already cut-to-size duct tape he had ready was across her mouth, before she could get out a stupid No! or Why? or Stop!

  He yanked the door shut so fast, anybody watching would have missed the whole incident if they’d blinked, but there hadn’t been a soul out there. A nice piece of luck, not that he didn’t have a Plan C prepared.

  He rolled his full weight onto her madly struggling body to keep her down while he yanked her hands behind her back, grabbed for the waiting roll of duct tape, and wrapped a double layer around her wrists. Women always dieting, wanting to be small, was the first mistake they made. He had at least sixty or seventy pounds on her, which mattered.

  She fought anyway, not one of those who froze or fainted. And he didn’t mind, not at all. She got his blood moving.

  “Shhhh. I’ve got you,” he whispered into her ear.

  He had to kneel on her calves to make her stop from kicking, but he managed to have her ankles bound up too, without her making too much noise. It helped that he’d padded the van with soundproofing mats. He’d picked those up at a music store at the same strip mall where he’d picked up the rental van.

  “Now I want you to be quiet.” He pushed off her. “I’d rather have you alive, but dead also works.”

  The duct tape muffled her outraged screams into pitiful whimpers.

  Tamed.

  They were all that at the end, one way or the other, the women and the men.

  Or maybe not so tame, Asael thought, as she kicked the side of the van. He could have hog-tied her, he had the rope, but he wanted to get out of there.

  He climbed to the driver’s seat in the front, pulled his gun from the glove compartment, and showed it to her. “Do we understand each other?”

  That settled her down.

  “Good girl.”

  He backed up and pulled out, got back on the pothole-ridden country road, then on the highway, toward Broslin. He’d only left town to follow her.

  “I’d decided last night that I would grab you on your way to work. But when I drove by the house this morning, I saw you swing a suitcase into the trunk. Sister trouble?”

  Emma made some nois
es behind the tape, but he didn’t think it was a response. Sounded like a curse.

  “Families are a pain in the ass,” he told her. An endless source of unnecessary drama, a massive drain of energy—which was why he didn’t have one. But Emma Bridges’s temper and troubles suited him just fine. “Grabbing you on the road worked out better, anyway. Too many damn busybodies in Broslin.”

  The two-hour drive before her first pit stop had gifted him with plenty of time to plan. “If I couldn’t grab you at the first stop, I would have done it at the next one, or the next. I’m never in a hurry. Never desperate. I’m ready, always, to take advantage when an opportunity presents itself.”

  He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “That’s what a few decades’ worth of experience brings to the table. It’s what separates the professionals from the riffraff.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kate

  Kate wanted to talk to Murph about the possibility of Asael being alive. But not yet. She had to stop freaking out first. Murph texted that he’d be in Philly all afternoon to check out zipline equipment for the course he planned to install in the woods behind Hope Hill. His absence came in handy.

  She sat behind her desk and counted to eight as she breathed in. How long was she supposed to hold that breath? Dammit, she couldn’t remember. And she’d taken two different yoga breathing classes at the center—she liked to try out things before recommending them to her patients.

  Forget controlled breathing. She kicked off her shoes and focused on the muscles in her neck and back. Relax.

  She gave up after a couple of minutes and picked up her phone. Time to call Emma again to see if she’d calmed down enough to pick up.

  The phone rang. But before Emma could have answered the call, footsteps sounded out in the hallway, someone running, then Joe Kessler popped in. “I think Ian McCall is in the parking lot.”

  The call went to voicemail. Kate clicked off without leaving yet another message. “Are you sure?”

  “Fits the description. He’s out of his car and pacing. Like he’s trying to decide whether or not to come inside. I called it in, but I’m not going to wait for backup. I’m going to take him into custody. I want you to stay right here.”