His lips pinched, then he smiled tightly. “At least I have Devon.” He placed the milk back in the fridge. “This will make you feel better, and then you can tell me what the devil happened down in Colombia.” He pointed his finger at her. “My lawyers will help you fight this.”
Killion and Parker had decided it was best to tell him the truth up to a point.
“A local drug cartel sent someone to kill me. I was at work minding my own business when this horrible man chased and stabbed me.” She lifted her sweater and eased down her jeans’ waistband. The scab had fallen off leaving a delicate pink scar.
The blood drained from Gabriel’s face. “You could have been killed.”
“I almost died, but a stranger found me and helped me escape.”
“Do you know his name?”
She shook her head. “He left me with a family who nursed me when I became sick. When I could walk they put me on a cargo vessel and helped smuggle me back into the country, but I had nowhere to go. I saw the news about my student when I was in Colombia.” Her voice broke. “I can’t believe anyone would think I killed him.”
“Not even in self-defense?” Gabriel asked quietly.
She thought about Hector. Did Gabriel know about Hector? “We’d all defend ourselves when threatened, Mr. Brightman, but Mario was my grad student. He was a great kid.” A ripple of gooseflesh moved over her arms. “He looked after my frogs when I came back over Christmas, when Sienna was in the hospital.”
Gabriel’s eyes were wide and sympathetic. No guile or malice perceptible. “The police down there obviously made a terrible mistake. I will do everything in my power to help extricate you from this mess, Audrey, but you’re probably going to have to turn yourself in.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“There is another option,” he said carefully.
Her mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”
He stirred cocoa powder and sugar into the hot milk—she watched him carefully to make sure he didn’t slip in any sedatives—and poured out two mugs. He handed her one. “I could get someone to create you a new identity. You’d never be Audrey Lockhart again though. You could never work in science again.”
What did it mean that he was willing to offer her this? Did that make him a good man, or a bad one?
“You know how hard I worked for my doctorate. I appreciate the offer, but I want my life back.”
He smiled and seemed pleased by her answer. “Come on. Let’s go sit in the den. I’ll call my lawyers in the morning, but tonight you get to relax in safety and not worry about anything. Okay?”
“I knew you’d help me, Gabriel.”
“We’ve been through a lot together. You’re like family now.” And for the first time since she arrived she noticed a twinkle of happiness in his eyes. Because she’d come to him, and he no longer had to search to get rid of her? Or because he was genuinely happy to try to help her?
She sipped her drink. She hated this constant questioning of motive. How could Killion deal with it on a daily basis without losing faith in humanity? She’d been at it for less than an hour and already felt corroded by deceit. Audrey forced herself to harden her heart. If Parker and Killion were wrong she could apologize to Gabriel later. If they were right she’d better hope he didn’t figure out she was onto him while they were alone in the mansion. She’d be dead before Killion even reached the front gate.
Chapter Eighteen
KILLION SAT IN the van beside Parker, drinking coffee they’d picked up before dropping Audrey off. He’d never been so angry or so scared in his life—and that was saying something.
Parker was on his computer, muttering. He’d found something he didn’t like.
Killion’s phone rang, and he checked the caller ID. Crista.
“Hey,” he said absently.
There was a moment of hesitation before she said, “There’s something weird going on.”
“Define ‘weird.’”
“Night before last a woman came to my door.”
Killion found himself sitting up straighter in his seat. He turned the phone to speaker. “A woman came to your door?”
“Yeah, look, it’s weird because if she was telling the truth, I’m about to fuck up both your lives, but if she wasn’t…”
“What did she say?”
“She said she was pregnant with your kid. Said the condom broke. She’d seen my name and number on your cell when you were in the shower, and she thought maybe you were cheating on your wife.”
“Name?”
“She never left her name. She left a card with a number on it. Burner cell.”
Killion’s pulse sped up.
“She said you guys were together for a month and that’s the reason I had this niggle of doubt that she was telling the truth.”
And wasn’t that a damning statement. Years yawned in front of him with a string of nameless females when all he really wanted was to get to know Audrey better.
Parker interrupted. “This person was in her house? Is she at home now? Tell her to look for an electronic listening device, but not to move it and not to say anything to give away the fact she’s found it. And give me the burner number to run.”
A minute later they both heard Crista curse. There was silence for about thirty seconds then she was back on the line. “There’s a bug under the table in the entranceway. I’m outside now, in my car.”
“Okay, tell her to stay put. I’ll get Brennan to send someone over—”
A massive explosion sounded and they lost service.
“Crista? Crista!” Killion called her back. Nothing. “What the fuck just happened?”
Parker was on the phone to Brennan. “Something just went down at a CIA analyst’s house. A Crista…?” Parker looked at him expectantly.
“Zanelli.” Killion filled in her address. A stab of fear shot through him. No, she was fine. Something must have happened to the signal, that was all.
“It sounded like a bomb. You need to get someone over there ASAP. She called to warn Killion some woman came to her house and claimed to be pregnant with his kid. The woman left a cell number which was apparently a burner phone, but Crista didn’t get a chance to give it to us.”
Killion sat there feeling hollow. Crista was one of his best friends. She couldn’t be hurt. His hands shook. He had to pull himself together. Audrey. He looked up at the mansion and had the door open before Parker grabbed him by the shoulder and didn’t let go.
Killion shoved the guy off him. “If Brightman heard that conversation he’ll know we’re onto him.”
“Not necessarily.” Parker spoke quietly. Rain was coming through the open door. “Look, chances are that bomb was detonated using a cell phone, but Brightman didn’t make any calls. No one inside that house made any calls.”
“What about email?” Killion asked taking a deep breath. He closed the door. He couldn’t afford to panic, but the idea Audrey might be in danger… But her mike was quiet. There was no sound of any attack, just the rustle of clothes as she shifted position.
Parker checked another file. “Nothing, but I found some unusual electronic activity.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know—maybe video surveillance from an outside source. I was just starting to figure it out when your friend called.”
Killion forced himself to take a few more deep breaths. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes until he was supposed to meet Audrey and search Brightman’s home.
“Keep investigating the signal. Let me know as soon as anyone hears about Crista.” His voice broke, but they both pretended it hadn’t. “I’m going in.”
* * *
TRACEY INSERTED A key into the garden doors that led from the conservatory into the den of Gabriel Brightman’s mansion, avoiding the security cameras she’d helped install. She couldn’t believe Killion had gotten this close to Gabriel already. She’d gotten an alert from the bug she’d planted at Crista Zanelli’s and heard her talking to Killion
about Tracey’s visit the other day.
No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t get a handle on Killion’s location from his cell phone signal, which jumped around like one of Lockhart’s damn frogs. But as soon as the analyst got in her car and started the engine, Tracey had blown that sucker to smithereens. She couldn’t afford leaving someone alive who could identify her. She’d have to get rid of Peter, too, before he heard Crista Zanelli was dead and started putting the pieces together. She’d rigged his car in advance, just in case. It was too bad. The guy had been useful.
Then she’d gotten a message that Audrey Lockhart was inside Gabriel Brightman’s mansion. And she just knew Patrick Killion was sitting right outside in the phone company van she’d seen parked around the corner.
Excitement fizzed through her bloodstream as she walked through the den.
The cameras covered the safe, the two main exits, the dining room and the lounge, which housed some very expensive artwork.
Gabriel had balked at having cameras in his private rooms—his den, office, and bedroom. A good thing, she realized now. She wore a stocking mask over her head regardless. She crept up the stairs, avoiding all the boards that creaked. Gabriel would be in bed. She paused. A light shone under the door of the room adjacent to Gabriel’s dead daughter’s room and her fingers itched.
Poor Rebecca. Poor Audrey. Her time would come, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. After years trying to finesse the perfect crime, it was finally happening.
She held the gun in the air as she edged around the corner. Gabriel’s light was off, but she knew every inch of this place, blindfolded.
She went in the main bedroom door because the one to the dressing room squeaked. Gabriel had fallen asleep the way he often did, sitting upright with Rebecca’s framed photo in his hands, tearstains on his cheeks.
She moved to stand beside the bed and watched his handsome face, grief-stricken even in sleep. He’d never really recovered from his daughter’s death. She angled the gun and pulled the trigger. Recoil buzzed along her forearm, and a hot splash of blood hit her neck. Quickly, she unscrewed the suppressor and placed the pistol in Gabriel’s left hand.
Then she smiled. Now it was time for Audrey.
* * *
IT WAS TWO AM and Audrey sat stiffly in a wingback chair, waiting for the moment Killion had told her to open the front door. Her heartbeat seemed loud in the silence, racing twice as fast as the second hand on her watch. Deception and covert ops were obviously not her thing. At five minutes to two, she stood, picked up her sneakers in one hand, and went to the door of her room. If the alarm went off, or they were caught, Gabriel was about to find out she wasn’t just some waif running from the law, but part of a group of people actively investigating him for murder.
A shiver of guilt rippled over her skin. If he were innocent he’d be furious. After years of showing her nothing but kindness he’d feel used and betrayed. On the other hand, if he were guilty he’d be sly and manipulative, blustering and defensive. She hoped he was innocent. With every cell in her body she prayed he was spitting mad at her for suspecting him of something so heinous.
She eased open the door to the guestroom—the one she’d always used, adjoining Rebecca’s bedroom, which was permanently locked up. She had the suspicion it was untouched from the day her friend had died.
Did that make Gabriel obsessed? Or was clinging to any small comfort understandable when a parent lost a child?
She wasn’t a mother. She wasn’t a psychologist. She didn’t know.
They’d retired to bed about ninety minutes ago. He hadn’t drugged her hot chocolate, and she’d refused his offer of anything stronger.
Was he asleep?
She had to pause for a moment at the top of the stairs to just get her breathing back under control. It was dark and Killion had told her not to turn on the lights unless she was being chased by someone trying to kill her.
Reassuring thought.
“I can do this,” she whispered to herself. She was more than just the sparkly assistant, distracting individuals cursed with a Y-chromosome with her amazing boobs. She moved down the stairs, holding the bannister, carefully putting both feet on the tread before moving onto the next one. A clock chimed with two clear notes and her heart sped up. Dammit. She was late. She hurried toward the door and tripped over a small step she’d forgotten about. Narrowly avoiding a face plant, she flipped the deadbolts and swung the door open. Killion caught the handle and slipped in with a grunt of disbelief.
“Make any more noise and we may as well put an announcement in the newspaper.” He sounded pissed. He wore dark clothes and a black wool hat. He looked like the archetypal burglar. He went straight to the alarm system and entered a code, which shut off the beeping.
“Not all of us are experts in breaking and entering,” she retorted in barely a whisper.
“Which is why some of us should have stayed home.”
She bit down on what she wanted to say to him. It wasn’t polite and it wasn’t professional.
He took her hand in his and led her down a corridor to the right. Gabriel’s study. The door was locked, but Killion picked it in less time than Audrey could hold her breath for.
“You could make a fortune as a diamond thief.”
He shrugged. “Not enough excitement.” But his voice sounded flat. He was obviously still mad with her. “Parker took care of the security cameras and alarm system.”
So they hadn’t really needed her at all. Great.
They walked into the office, closed the door softly behind them. Killion pulled a small penlight out of his back pocket. “Stand right there and don’t move,” he told her.
Audrey froze to the spot, determined she could do her part and not get in the way of his operation. She put on her shoes in case they had to run as he systematically went through each drawer. Checking underneath and behind them. Searching for any hidden compartment in the heavy oak desk. Then he went through a small filing unit.
He came up empty so he got up and prowled the room, looking behind pictures.
“The safe is in a dressing room off his bedroom. There’s a door that connects directly to the corridor.”
“How do you know?”
“Rebecca kept her diamonds in there.”
“Know the combination of the lock?”
“Four numbers. It was her mother’s birthday, but I imagine he changed it.”
Killion shook his head. “If he did, I bet I know what he uses now. Let’s go.” He swept a super-sleek, razor-thin laptop off the desk and put it against his chest, zipping his tight black jacket over it to hold it in place.
She caught his arm. “Isn’t he going to notice that’s missing? And assume I took it?”
“It won’t be a problem as you won’t be here.”
“What if we don’t find anything useful in the safe?” It was hard to argue in a whisper but they managed.
“Then we’ll look elsewhere, but you aren’t staying here,” Killion repeated as if she’d gone deaf. Then he disappeared into the hall. She crept after him. He was already halfway up the stairs and moving so quietly he didn’t even disturb the particles in the air. How was that even possible?
She started after him, forcing herself to go more slowly when a stair creaked. He paused and looked over the bannister at her.
She grimaced and carried on. Upstairs they turned right down yet another unlit corridor. When Rebecca had been alive this house had always seemed like a gothic adventure, romantic and fun. Now it felt creepy, ghosts and misery marching side-by-side in the gloom.
Killion slowed to let her lead the way, although he obviously knew the basic layout. She slipped in front of him and stopped outside the dressing room door. She held the knob firmly as she opened it, but Killion grabbed her hand when it let out a low groan.
His body was suddenly pressed tight against hers and stirred so many memories her head swam. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. His fingers squeezed
hers, both in reassurance and in demand to let him do this. She let go of the doorknob and moved out of the way.
He held the knob and did something with the door, but it still squeaked. Then he took a small bottle out of his pants pocket and carefully put a drop of something on each hinge.
“Baby oil,” he whispered. “Comes in useful for other things, too.” His features were indistinct in the dim light, but she caught the flash of teeth.
She pinched his ass because this was serious and he was making sexual innuendos.
This time when he tried the door it swung open noiselessly. They both moved cautiously inside. One entire side of the long narrow room held a rack of shirts and suits. A shelf of neatly stacked shoes sat beneath. Audrey couldn’t see a damn thing, but Killion walked straight up to the safe, which was hidden in the wall beside a mirror on the opposite side of the room.
The door to Gabriel’s bedroom at the other end of the room was slightly ajar.
Killion turned the dial without Audrey telling him any numbers. Apparently the man had a photographic memory for detail. The place smelled of sandalwood and cedar, but there was also the faint air of dusty disuse.
An echo of Rebecca’s laughter and the image of her whirling in front of that mirror holding her diamonds to her ears flashed through her mind. Audrey stumbled and caught herself on the arm of a suit jacket. The metal hanger ground against the rod with a low squeal. They both froze. Killion stopped in his silent perusal of the safe’s contents, and went to the door that led into the bedroom.
Killion eased it wider, and that’s when Audrey realized he’d put on some sort of goggles that must help him see in the dark.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
So much for being quiet. He flicked a light switch on, and Audrey put both hands over her mouth to suppress the scream that wanted to escape. Gabriel lay in bed with a pistol in his hand, half his brain on the wall behind him.
She stood there, staring at him dumbly.
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