The Survivor

by DiAnn Mills

  Kariss watched the steam rising from her mug before focusing on Amy. “You mentioned Special Agents Steadman and Harris had visited you.”

  Amy took a sip of coffee and stared into her mug. Was she thinking about the conversation with Ryan and Tigo, or was she savoring the hot brew? The woman was hard to read. Perhaps that trait came with her profession. “The FBI has asked me to take advantage of their protective-detail program,” she finally said, meeting Kariss’s gaze.

  “So is the decision you need help with whether to stay in Houston under the protection of the FBI or to take a vacation until this is over?”

  Amy broke off a piece of her cookie. “I don’t want to consider either one. I refused the offer last night, but then I kept thinking about it all day today. Special Agent Harris made an insightful comment.”

  Kariss envisioned Tigo in his professional mode, either incredibly charming or scaring Amy into compliance. “What did he say?”

  “Simple, really. In short, I can’t counsel clients if I’m dead.” She sighed. “I was afraid Baxter was about to be implicated in the bombings. How horrible for my family if he were to be accused. He can be a handful with his issues and addictions, but murder is another matter. Our parents might never recover. As you can imagine, my family harbors guilt and blame because of my attack, so I’ve decided—” Amy reached for her purse and accidentally sent it tumbling to the floor. As she bent to retrieve it, her coffee took a dive. Kariss rushed forward to grab the cup before it could spill on Amy.

  A pop and a sharp pain attacked Kariss’s senses. The left side of her head stung.

  A woman screamed.

  Another pop pierced the air.

  Amy pulled Kariss to the floor.

  Tables crashed.

  Kariss gripped her throbbing head and felt the slimy liquid she knew was blood.

  4:35 P.M. WEDNESDAY

  Tigo glanced at the time on his computer. If he didn’t come up with an excuse soon, he’d be stuck going to the Wednesday night church service with Ryan—again. Not that the preacher was boring, but Tigo always felt trapped in the pew. Which was a joke. A daredevil FBI agent shouldn’t feel intimidated by a building full of Christians, but Tigo was. He felt like the congregation all had a secret and he’d missed the initiation.

  He scrolled through the FIG’s latest information. Nothing had turned up for the source of the phone number found in Joanna’s tennis shoe, and it didn’t match the unidentified number on Joanna’s call list. Neither Curt nor Ian recognized the number, or they refused to acknowledge it.

  Those two boys didn’t ring true. Curt seemed to have his head on straight, except for cleaning up Ian’s messes. Tigo had heard through Linc’s son that Ian had threatened to take out one of the kids at school for slandering his mother.

  When Tigo was a kid, he’d longed for a large family—lots of aunts and uncles with a dozen or more cousins. The Yeat situation had convinced him those childhood dreams would have been a nightmare if they’d come true. Most of the Yeat family relatives had motive to see either Joanna or Jonathan dead.

  Unanswered questions ticked through Tigo’s mind. Who’d planned to murder Jonathan or Joanna Yeat? The same bomber had blown up Dr. Amy Garrett’s car. What linked the bombings and why? Semtex could only be bought for the right price by people outside of the U.S., which eliminated disgruntled Yeat employees. If those who’d been laid off had money to buy expensive explosives, they wouldn’t care about losing their jobs. Conspirators could have pooled their resources for vengeance, but that was highly unlikely. And with Dr. Garrett’s bomb a match, he could eliminate those who did business with Jonathan.

  He pulled up his original suspect list and his current notes.

  Angela Bronston—No longer a suspect.

  Roger Collins—Not a suspect but being tailed.

  Baxter Garrett—No longer a suspect.

  Carolyn Hopkins—May have information. Currently incarcerated.

  Vanessa Whitcom—Not a suspect.

  Darena Willis—Not a suspect.

  Curt Yeat—Not a suspect but could have information.

  Jonathan Yeat—No longer a suspect.

  Ian Yeat—Not a suspect but could have information.

  Taylor Yeat—Not a suspect.

  Business associates and competitors—Nothing there.

  David Smith—Strongest lead in case.

  Tigo’s phone rang. The number told him it was an informant.

  “The guy you call David Smith? The one in the sketch? Frequents a bar called the Stragglers near the ship channel. Goes by the name of Wesson.”

  Tigo was itching to go undercover, and now he had the chance. “Thanks.”

  The call disconnected. He needed a break, and this looked like it.

  “Tigo, there’s a problem.” Ryan stood in the doorway. His face wore the look of bad news. “Just checked the latest HPD report about a shooting at a Starbucks across from the Crystal Point Mall. A hunch told me to call Ric Montoya. He confirmed that it was Kariss who was shot.”

  Tigo rose to his feet, his pulse racing. “How is she?”

  “Stable at Crystal Point Methodist Hospital. Scalp wound. Dr. Amy Garrett was with her.”

  Tigo grabbed his keys and phones. “I’ve got to get to the hospital. What happened?”

  “A shooter from the parking lot while she and Garrett were inside. A few people inside, but they didn’t see a thing due to the rain.”

  “This guy is good.” Tigo tripped over his chair in his haste to get out of his cubicle. “I’ll call you as soon as I know she’s okay.”

  “Don’t think so. I’m driving.”

  Tigo threw him a quick glance. “No deal. I know how to get there in a hurry.”

  Ryan blocked the cubicle’s entryway. “Preferably in one piece. This is a personal situation, Tigo, and you have big stakes in it. I’ll drive, and you can contact the hospital for an update if it’ll make you feel better.”

  Tigo knew his heart overrode his good sense. If he had any sense at all when it came to Kariss. It hadn’t been that long since he’d gotten the call that his mother was dying. He had the same sinking feeling now. “Okay. We’re wasting time.”

  God, I’m begging here.

  Once in Ryan’s car, Tigo phoned the nurse in the ER and gave him his FBI credentials. The nurse reported little more than Tigo already knew.

  “The bullet grazed her head. A few sutures,” Tigo told Ryan. “She’s stable.”

  “Good news.” Ryan passed two cars and a semitruck. Rush-hour traffic streamed bumper to bumper.

  “Can’t wait to get my hands on the police report,” Tigo said. “But that’ll come soon enough. What do you think this means? Your head is clearer than mine right now.”

  “I’m thinking.”

  Tigo had worked with Ryan long enough to know he’d already formed his own opinion. “You tell me first. I’m the one who needs to get past the shock of Kariss being the target of a killer. Again. Didn’t we go through this last summer?”

  “She must be a slow learner.”

  “That’s what scares me about her. She seems to have no fear.”

  Ryan cocked his head. “Look who’s talking.”

  “But I’m trained.”

  “Point taken,” Ryan said. “Okay, here goes. Kariss has gotten herself involved in a situation where someone is seeking revenge. Baxter’s still in jail. Can’t be him. He gave Kariss the impression that someone’s working with him on the outside, but I doubt it. He’s a loner and doesn’t have the money to pay a hired gun. Simple answer. The shooter has to be the same perp who bombed the Yeat and Garrett vehicles.”

  “And ran Kariss off the road. And sent her emails and a funeral wreath.” Tigo’s mind switched into crime-solving mode. “I’m past thinking it’s a previous employee or anyone who might have had a grievance against Jonathan. Although Darena and Taylor have motive, I don’t see a connection to Dr. Garrett. I need a subpoena to look at her list of clients.”


  “Darena could have seen her for counseling. Talked about Taylor and used an alias. But she doesn’t come across as a woman who wants help.”

  Tigo detested the woman. “Good call. Then there’s David Smith. But unless he’s older than what our sources indicate, he’d have been a young teen when Amy was attacked.”

  “Can’t talk to him if we can’t locate him.”

  “We might have already done that. An informant called me, and we have a lead on him. I want an opportunity to question him. That’s all.”

  Ryan fixed a stare on him. “What are you really thinking?”

  “Here’s my best shot. I think both of us are ignoring the elephant in the driver’s seat,” Tigo said. “My gut is telling me that the man who assaulted Dr. Garrett twenty-three years ago is the bomber and the man who shot Kariss. I think he moved up from attacking little girls to making bombs.”

  Ryan nodded. “Maybe. But why did he target the Yeat family? And why is he after Dr. Garrett now, when he had twenty-three years to kill her?”

  “Maybe he had no reason until now. What’s happened that might have changed his mind?” Tigo had the answer the moment he uttered the words. “The book. He’s afraid of Amy Garrett’s book.”

  “If Dr. Garrett hasn’t gone to the police before now with new evidence, what would make the book so threatening?”

  “Fear of getting caught. Think like a psychopath, Ryan. This could be cat and mouse for him. In his mind, the job is unfinished.”

  “Possibly. Not sure I agree. I think the original target was Jonathan Yeat, and somehow he’s tied to Amy Garrett.”

  Tigo disagreed, but he needed proof to show that Jonathan and Amy shared a common enemy.

  “Your silence tells me you don’t agree,” Ryan said. “So what do you say we keep this to ourselves until we investigate the shooting today?”

  “Good idea. Then we can talk to Linc this afternoon.” Tigo pressed in Fred Walker’s number. This had to be hard on the older couple—first Vicki, now Kariss.

  “I have a question,” Ryan said. “Shall we talk to Dr. Garrett’s parents for another possible connection?”

  “Make the arrangements, and let’s do it.”

  Fred answered the call. “Hello?”

  “This is Tigo, and I’m on my way to the hospital. What can you tell me?”

  “We’re just now leaving Texas City. All I know is Kariss’s been shot. Don’t know anything else.” Fred’s voice trembled.

  “The ER told me that the bullet grazed her scalp. The wound was sutured, and she’s in stable condition. That’s good, Fred. I’ll call you once I’m there. Tell Ella not to worry.”

  “Fat chance. What has my little girl gotten herself into?”

  Tigo wished he had an answer. “The shooter won’t get away with this. I promise.” He disconnected the call. What wasn’t he seeing in these cases?

  CHAPTER 42

  5:17 P.M. WEDNESDAY

  Tigo hurried into Crystal Point Methodist’s ER while Ryan parked the car. He had to put cuffs on his temper. Frustration and concern for Kariss made a volatile brew. He should have insisted she stay at home and not meet with Amy. But she probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. They were two stubborn women. He planned to give both of them another dose of reality if the shooting hadn’t done the trick.

  But first he had to make sure Kariss was okay … stable. A bullet had grazed her temple.

  After he flashed his ID at the reception desk, a nurse escorted him to the treatment area. A police officer and Amy stood on opposite sides of Kariss’s bed. The officer scribbled on a pad, no doubt pumping the women for answers. Tigo focused on Kariss. The color of her face matched the sheets, and the left side of her head was bandaged. Blood had seeped through. Two IV bags dripped into her right arm. All of Tigo’s irritation melted in a pool of compassion that quickly turned to anger. Whoever had done this would pay.

  Tigo showed the officer his ID and informed him of Ryan’s coming arrival. Then he stepped past the officer and bent over Kariss. “Hey, babe. How are you doing?” The words were out before he could hide behind his tough-guy image. Let the good Dr. Amy Garrett think whatever she wanted. Analyze that.

  Kariss’s lips inched into a smile. Her eyes were glazed, hopefully from the medication and not from pain. “I’m fine. Just … just trying to help the officer.”

  Tigo nodded a hello to Dr. Garrett, whose stoic persona matched her demeanor from last night’s interview.

  “The FBI’s working this?” the officer said.

  “It’s linked to the Yeat bombing case that we’re partnering with HPD on,” Tigo said. “Detective Ricardo Montoya can confirm. After you speak to him, we’ll need to see the police report.”

  The officer pulled out his phone. He moved from the curtained area, leaving Tigo a moment to talk to Kariss. “What did you do this time? Why weren’t you wearing a Kevlar helmet?”

  Kariss’s smile grew. “Didn’t match my outfit.”

  He wanted to kiss her, do anything to make the shooting go away. “Do you feel like talking about it?”

  She nodded. “Got in the way of a bullet. Grazed my head. Nothing to dig out like in the movies.” She peered around him. “Hey, Ryan. So I have two special agents—” She drew in a quick breath.

  “Aren’t they giving you pain meds?” Tigo touched her forehead and brushed back a damp curl, being careful not to venture too close to the bandage. He wrapped his hand around hers, and she didn’t resist.

  “Just before you came in. They put it into the IV. I’m waiting for it to take me into la-la land.”

  “Kariss,” Dr. Garrett said, her shoulders arched like an angry cat’s, “you could have told me that you and Agent Harris were friends.”

  “I wanted you to listen to Tigo as a professional first,”

  Kariss said. “I planned to tell you during our discussion.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I have no reason to lie.”

  The renowned doctor needed a little help with her bedside manner. Tigo bit back a caustic remark. “Does our friendship make any difference?”

  “You and Kariss deceived me.”

  “I don’t think so.” Tigo swallowed what he wanted to say. “Our relationship goes back a long time. I tend to be her bodyguard.”

  “Right,” Kariss whispered. “More than that. More …”

  Were those her words or the pain meds talking?

  Dr. Garrett cleared her throat. “Agent Steadman, what information do you have regarding the shooting?”

  No doubt the woman remembered Ryan’s manners were a little more genteel than Tigo’s.

  “Investigators are combing the area,” Ryan said. “We need to ask you some questions, if you feel up to it.”

  She wrung her hands. “I apologize for my abruptness. It’s not my normal mode of conversing during stress.”

  Tigo had yet to see an amiable side of the woman. “A shooting can do that,” he said.

  “Dr. Garrett,” Ryan said, “can you tell us your version of what happened?”

  “I can. Please call me Amy. I’m so sorry. I know this is my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Kariss to join me for coffee.” She drew in a breath. “Honestly, we were there to discuss your suggestion about my taking advantage of a protective detail.”

  The shooting proved the two women were a hair too late for FBI protection.

  “I understand the officer has questioned you, but do you mind repeating the series of events that led up to the shooting?”

  “I’ll do all I can. We arrived in separate cars for a four o’clock appointment. The rain was coming down in sheets, so I don’t think either of us noted anything unusual in the parking lot. We bought coffee and two cookies, then sat at a table near the window.”

  “Anyone else in the coffee shop?”

  “A couple across the room, and two women at another table. All of them were seated near the bakery display. I don’t remember any particulars, but an off
icer took their information.”

  “Good. So you were drinking coffee, and someone shot Kariss.”

  She shook her head. “Not exactly. I accidentally knocked my purse onto the floor. When I bent to pick it up, I tipped over my coffee. Kariss reached to help, and that’s when she was shot.”

  So Kariss had taken a bullet for Amy. Realization caused Tigo’s gut to churn. “Did she stand to grab the cup?”

  “Leaned over the table. It all happened so fast.”

  “I know we were lucky,” Kariss whispered, as though reading Tigo’s thoughts.

  He squeezed her hand. Thanks, God, for looking out for these women. He caught himself. It was the second time he’d prayed today.

  The officer reentered the room. “I’ve verified the information with Detective Montoya.” He handed Ryan the report. “You’ll find this interesting.”

  Tigo studied Ryan’s face. Not a muscle moved. Then a twitch. “What does it say?”

  “The bullet came from a Beretta 90-Two .40 S&W. The shooter used a hollow-back bullet.” Ryan paused as if in thought. “Says here the lab almost missed the signature. When it peeled back on impact, a name etched on the inside was revealed … Amy. A second bullet was lodged into the floor and had Kariss’s name inscribed the same way.”

  Amy gasped. “No. This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen.”

  6:00 P.M. WEDNESDAY

  Despite the sharp pain and waiting for the meds to kick in, Kariss sensed anger pouring through her veins. Had Amy set her up for some freak power play with the assailant? Before she could pose a question, Tigo was on it.

  “What do you mean ‘This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen’?”

  Kariss stared at Amy. “Answer him.”

  “If anyone was to get hurt, it was supposed to be me,” Amy said.

  “You haven’t answered my question.” Tigo appeared in control, but Kariss heard the underlying fury in his tone. “Had you been threatened before the shooting?”

  Amy stiffened. “No. I … I just think I’m living on borrowed time.”

  “Do you know more about the bombing than you’ve relayed to law-enforcement officers?”