by DiAnn Mills
Tigo waited, checking his Blackberry for updates, then his personal cell phone. Kariss had texted him, asking him to call when he had an opportunity.
Dr. Garrett cleared her throat. Perfectly poised, she nodded at her computer. “Agent Steadman, Agent Harris, Freedom’s Way has never counseled anyone by the name of Yeat.”
“Could we see the list?”
“For you to access my files, you’ll need a subpoena.”
“If you’ve never seen her, what is there to hide?”
“My clients trust me. Confidentiality. Fear. Surely you understand.”
He knew the law, but it never hurt to ask. “Do your clients ever use aliases?”
“That’s their choice. We don’t take insurance, so Mrs. Yeat could have chosen to keep her identity private. Our purpose is to treat the individual, not check their name.” She remained seated at her desk.
Didn’t she realize the FBI was here to protect her?
“I appreciate your taking time out of your evening, but I can’t help you with Mrs. Yeat’s case.”
Tigo glanced at Ryan, a signal for him to take over. This woman needed kid gloves, and Tigo was quickly losing his professionalism. Courage and strength were admirable traits, but failure to avoid danger was like touching a downed power line.
“Dr. Garrett, we want the same things you do.” Ryan’s calm tone did nothing to relax her rigid body. “We have valid reasons to find this person. The Yeat bombing left a widower and two teenage boys without a mother and sister. We have signature crimes with both car bombings, and we’re looking for a link to make an arrest.”
The lines around Amy’s eyes softened. “It’s … extremely sad.”
“We have a photo of Joanna Yeat,” Ryan continued. “It might sharpen your memory. Perhaps you met her at a conference and counseled her there.” He pulled up a photograph of Joanna and Alexia on his iPad and stood to show her the pics.
“I’m sorry. I don’t recognize the woman.” Amy lifted her chin. “Having her as a client might have helped you solve both bombings. But even if she had been a client, I couldn’t allow you to see her files.”
“There is a connection with the cases,” Ryan said. “We simply need to find it.”
“What does this information mean for me?”
“The danger is imminent. Agent Harris and I recommend you take advantage of the FBI’s protective-detail program.”
“As in a bodyguard?” Amy bristled as though she’d been offended. “I’ve made it clear how I feel about hiding from anyone or anything.”
“A car bomb is a threat to lives and property,” Tigo said. “A deadly one. It’s not our policy to recommend a bodyguard, but we can provide protection by arranging for you to stay at a hotel or safe house with agents until this is over.”
She stood. “It’s not necessary.”
“What are you not telling us? Is the bombing a reminder about an event from your past?” Tigo captured her attention and held on. “You of all people understand the intricacies of an evil mind.”
She opened the door to her office. “Gentlemen, I have more important things to occupy my time. I appreciate your stopping by, but I can’t help you. I repeat, I don’t want any law-enforcement types hovering over me.”
“You might not be so lucky the second time. Inconvenience or your life?” Tigo stood. “You need to decide. Agent Steadman and I will be in contact.” He handed her his card. “Think about it. Who’s going to help these women recover from tragedies if you’re not around? Our protective-detail program will keep you safe until the person is arrested, and you can resume your work. Your clients need you.”
“No thanks. Bullying me into closing my office while you run around looking for clues is not the answer. Excuse me. I have work to do before going home.”
CHAPTER 38
10:25 P.M. TUESDAY
Kariss yawned and stared longingly at her bed. She’d turned back the covers in anticipation of the moment she could crawl under the warm blankets and let exhaustion take over.
Tigo hadn’t returned her call. He must be working late, possibly undercover. It was one of the things he loved about the FBI. Vicki had been correct in one evaluation—Kariss did enjoy a taste of danger, and she understood Tigo’s quest for the same thrill. One of the many things they had in common. Kariss was such a mess when it came to analyzing her feelings for him. She danced around the truth as though she’d be burned if the flames touched her.
Kariss had never expected Vicki to give an ultimatum, but she couldn’t blame her sister. Rose needed to be protected from the evils of the world, and last Friday morning had proved how evil the world could be. Contacting Tigo was the prudent response, and if telling him about this morning protected those she loved, she would swallow her pride and do it.
After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she crawled into bed with the latest issue of Writer’s Digest. Several articles had been dedicated to the craft of fiction, and she was particularly interested in one that focused on viewing setting as an antagonist.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t concentrate. With one hand on her cell phone, she allowed her eyes to close. The lamplight shone in her eyes, ensuring she wouldn’t sleep. She’d simply rest.
Her cell rang, jarring her from a deeper sleep than she’d anticipated.
“Kariss.” The familiar voice caused her heart to beat faster. “I know it’s late, but I didn’t know if your message was urgent.”
She was instantly alert. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I woke you, didn’t I?”
“It’s okay. I have the light on, but I must have dozed off anyway.”
“Do you still get nightmares?”
She wouldn’t lie. “They’re not as frequent as before.”
“What’s going on?”
She’d already rehearsed what to say, and the words came easily. After relaying the story, she added, “The odd thing is, he used my first name and quoted a line from a novel.”
“Kariss, I’ve read Amy Garrett’s case.” His voice was solemn. “This is not some lunatic fan who wants to have a little fun with an author. He either knows the case history, or he’s the man who attacked Amy years ago. You must have realized this.”
“Crossed my mind.” But she didn’t want to think about what it could mean. Denial of danger had gotten her into trouble before …
“Someone needs to write a novel about you. What was the quote?”
“‘The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.’”
“Never heard it before. But I also don’t like Baxter Garrett’s intimidation and his veiled threat about using an outside connection to help him get his point across.” Tigo sighed, and Kariss could imagine the lines deepening across his forehead. “It rings too close to Dr. Garrett’s case. In view of her cold case, alluding to the past implies more than I care to get into right now.”
“But it was supposed to. That’s Baxter’s way of bullying people.”
“Thank you, Dr. Walker.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Don’t take any walks without your gun. And take an advanced course in self-defense.”
“Very funny.”
“Have you spoken with Dr. Garrett this evening?”
“No. Why?”
“Here’s a little tidbit for you. The person who bombed Jonathan Yeat’s car is the same person who bombed Amy’s car.”
She gasped. “What’s the connection?”
“How about don’t get in the same car as Amy Garrett?”
Tigo wasn’t divulging a thing about the investigation. “Do you think last Friday morning and today are linked?” she asked.
“Maybe. Did you get a pic of the old man?”
“My phone was dead.” She let a sliver of regret creep into her words. “If anything comes to mind, I’ll call.”
“Why don’t you and Vicki take a vacation until this is over?”
He and Vicki must have been on the
same wavelength. “I could send her and Rose to our parents.”
“Good idea. How about you? I’d rather see you out of the state. Isn’t there a writer’s conference going on somewhere? What about visiting your agent or publisher in New York?”
“You should know by now I’m not a runner. If someone wants to find me, they can.”
“Not if you let the FBI handle it.”
Acid rose in her throat. “Not yet. I’d rather be in my own home and simply take precautions when I venture out. If I’ve upset someone, they’ll have to get over it.”
“Right.” He growled the words. “You keep telling yourself that, and maybe a rabbit will jump out of your hat. You and Amy Garrett are walking a tightrope.”
“Tigo. It’s my choice.”
“I’ve heard you use the same line before, and you nearly ended up dead.”
“I make my own decisions. Good night.”
CHAPTER 39
JANUARY 23
7:13 A.M. WEDNESDAY
Kariss was into the fourth mile on the treadmill when her cell phone rang. She hoped it was Tigo. Hanging up on him had given her a sleepless night and more heartache. Caring for him was easy. Swallowing her pride meant digesting a horse pill. He only wanted what was best for her, and she’d reacted in her typical stubborn, reckless fashion. Now to confess that.
But one glance told her he wasn’t the caller. She should have felt relief, but regret took its place.
“Good morning, Amy. How are you doing since the bombing?”
“All right.” Amy’s voice had that curt, emotionless tone—as in ultraprofessional—that Kariss had heard on more than one occasion. “Are you running?”
“Yes. I’m on the treadmill.”
“Can you talk?”
“I’m a multitasking junky.” So much so that she’d already shed a few tears for a man she couldn’t have, but she knew who had the real answers to that dilemma.
“First I need to apologize for not returning your calls.” Amy sighed. “I’m not normally so unprofessional.”
Nice change of pace. “Thank you. So what’s up?”
“I won’t keep you, but I wondered if we could meet for coffee this afternoon?”
“I could after three thirty. Around four?” She slowed the treadmill’s pace to 4.2 miles per hour. “Is everything okay?”
“It will be. Want to meet at Starbucks? I’ll spring for the cookie.” Amy’s words were kind, but Kariss heard the tension in her voice. Someday she’d find a way to melt Amy’s facade.
“What’s wrong?”
“Got a visit last night from two FBI agents regarding the car bombing, and I have to make a tough decision. Need to discuss it with someone who’s been there.”
“What did the agents want?”
“They offered some suggestions.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to discuss this over the phone.”
“The FBI is committed to keeping us safe. Who were the agents?”
“Special Agents Steadman and Harris. Do you know them from your experience?”
Now she understood why Tigo had called her so late. “I do. They’re good men.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Okay. When we meet later, we can talk about your dilemma.”
Kariss had a decision to make too, and prolonging it only stirred her emotions. After ending the call with Amy, she pressed in Tigo’s number, wishing she’d taken the time to consider how to word her apology.
“Good morning, Miss Walker. Had your coffee yet?”
“I had that coming.” He could say so much more, but she hoped he didn’t. “I apologize for last night. I’m sorry for being obnoxious when you were only looking out for my welfare.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t get much sleep either.”
She turned off the treadmill. “We’re like two lit fuses of dynamite.”
“In more ways than one.”
She wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of a response.
“Will you consider a vacation?” he said.
“Depends on what happens with Baxter Garrett. Vicki and Rose are leaving this morning to stay at our parents’ until this is over. Keeping company with me can be hazardous to anyone’s health.” She kept her tone light.
“What about you, Kariss? I need to know you’re out of harm’s way too.” His gentle tone caused her to shiver even though she was covered in sweat.
“I carry a gun, and I’m not looking for trouble.”
He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Talk to your parents. Get their take on the situation. For that matter, pray about it.
Okay?”
“I will. I promise. Amy Garrett told me you met with her. She wants to get together.”
“We asked her to take advantage of FBI protection. Both of you need to be tucked away. When are you meeting?”
“Four o’clock this afternoon at Starbucks.”
“Toss out a convincing reason why she needs to accept protection. I don’t like how any of this is going.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Be safe and drive yourself. And check in with me after your meeting so I know you’re okay.”
“I will, Agent Harris.”
“Good. Gotta run. Have a meeting with Linc.” Tigo ended the call before she could think of something witty to say. Good thing. She was ready to invite him for coffee.
CHAPTER 40
10:50 A.M. WEDNESDAY
He’d waited twenty-three years for Amy to make the ultimate mistake. He’d allowed her to roll the dice while he adjusted the pieces on her game board of life. Finally she’d grabbed hold of greed and proved his point. Stupid woman. She should have died after he’d finished with her long ago. But he’d always kept tabs on her in case he needed to set the record straight after that first failed attempt that May night so many years ago.
We told you she’d slip. Kill her and be done with her. She’s lived on borrowed time too long.
Did Amy think a novel about her escape from death would rise to the level of his accomplishments? He had ways to circumvent so-called law-enforcement investigators, and he’d get away with one more crime.
Amy had struggled through the years to make something of herself, and he’d observed it all. Her fancy PhD degrees meant accomplishment to some people, but not him. Survival instincts were the best traits. In a Vietnam prison, he’d managed to outthink the torture experts and had learned to be cunning. The enemy had been his best teacher, driving home the cliché that only the strong survive. That’s when the voices had first begun, and he’d always be grateful.
Why did Amy think her story would ever rival those of the great storytellers? If she’d chosen Cussler, King, Koontz, Patterson, or any true male author to write what happened back then, he might have let her foolishness slide. But Kariss Walker and her novels weren’t masterpieces. They were trash. What did a woman know about executing procedures for a crime?
He’d been patient and covered his tracks more than once. All his victims had died. He caught himself. The Yeat bombing hadn’t turned out exactly as planned, but the results suited his purpose.
In his pocket lay two perfectly crafted bullets with his signature so the cops would know that a mastermind had achieved a perfect crime. He dared them to find him.
Today would end it for Amy and Kariss, and then he’d creep back into his world, where no one ever suspected him of anything more than devotion to his frail wife. The latter was true.
Exiting his wife’s car, he stepped into a downpour. His mind raced with what made accuracy important—wind speed and direction. Today the cursed rain played against him, but he’d make allowances. He’d be close enough to ensure both bullets found their victims.
CHAPTER 41
4:00 P.M. WEDNESDAY
Kariss slid into a parking space outside Starbucks at the same time Amy drove up. The blinding rain slapped against the windshield of Kariss’s rental car while the wipers ran a marathon. S
he’d be glad when the repairs to her Jag were completed. At least nature’s display this afternoon didn’t include thunder and lightning. Electrical storms ranked number two on Kariss’s list of personal fears. Dogs were number one. She grabbed her purse and laptop, then huddled under her umbrella while Amy locked her car doors and checked the driver’s and left passenger’s doors—four times. That seemed to be the magic number.
“The coffee and cookies had better be fresh.” Kariss shivered in the damp cold.
The women hustled across the parking lot, sidestepping puddles on the way. Kariss opened the door of the coffee shop and held it for Amy. She hadn’t observed how frail Amy’s frame was until this moment. The problems of late must have been wearing her down.
“Mmm. I can smell the coffee already.” Amy smiled, but a deep V was etched between her brows, and the dark circles beneath her blue eyes added years to her lovely face—a face that reminded Kariss of the late Princess Grace of Monaco.
How sad that Amy had to rely on Kariss’s listening ear when they’d only known each other such a short time. Kariss would try to persuade her to leave town or seek FBI protection. Tigo always said the bad guys thought they’d never get caught, and that’s when they made mistakes. But until the FBI found the bomber’s weak point, Amy should be sunning on a beach or skiing down a slope—anywhere but Houston. She had to be on emotional overload, especially with Baxter and his stint in the city jail.
The rich, intoxicating aroma of coffee pushed the chaotic world aside. Let the rain drench the outdoors.
The coffee shop, with only two other tables occupied, was the perfect spot to talk. If a mention of the book came up, Kariss would let Amy know that she’d drafted the first chapter while adding detail to characterization. Much still needed to be done to the plot, and Kariss had to steal moments to work on it.
After Kariss and Amy ordered their coffee and decided they each needed an oatmeal-raisin cookie, they claimed a small bistro table along the window of the cafe. Huge raindrops crashed against the pane and raced downward, with more chasing after them. Definitely the perfect place for Kariss to write a suspenseful scene after their discussion.