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B008DKAYYQ EBOK Page 18

by Joyce Lamb


  “We’ve got something.”

  He straightened. “Already?”

  “The cops in Bailey’s photo are clean. But we found something else on the negatives. How soon can you get to Bailey and bring her in?”

  He stood, his heart, and brain, racing. Kathleen sounded uncharacteristically tense. “You already know she’s staying at Payne Kincaid’s. Can’t you send agents?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  Fear closed his throat. “What’s going on?”

  “I just need you to go get her, okay? And I need you to play it cool.”

  “Jesus, Kathleen. Tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “Explain now.”

  “Cole … we don’t have time.”

  He slammed down the phone and sprinted for the door.

  * * *

  Sitting on the edge of Payne Kincaid’s swimming pool, Bailey dangled her feet in the cool water of the deep end. She wondered how Cole’s evening on the cops beat was going and whether he was as distracted by thoughts of her as she was by thoughts of him. But she supposed the time apart was a good thing. It gave her the opportunity to think.

  After a dinner of pasta and grilled vegetables, Payne had suggested she take advantage of the pleasant evening and lounge by the pool while he retired to his office to wrap up some leftover business of the day.

  Liking the idea, she’d slipped into a red bathing suit, hoping to get in some sauna time. Swimming was out of the question with her still-healing stitches, but steam heat shouldn’t hurt anything.

  She also brought Payne’s phone out so she could call James.

  She didn’t make the call right away, though. Instead, she dropped her head back and took in the stars. Here, far away from city lights, the dusting of the Milky Way in the midnight blue sky was clearly visible, looking close enough to wave a hand through. In the distance, she could hear the waves of the gulf sloshing onto shore, the air tangy with a dash of salt and a touch of chlorine. A perfect evening for relaxing.

  Unfortunately, she was about as far from relaxed as anyone could get. Her brain seemed to bounce from one quandary to the next: Cole to James to Austin to Cole to Austin to James. Over and over. She didn’t know what to do about any of them.

  When she thought about Cole, her brain stalled. The memory of his mouth on hers overwhelmed all coherent thought. The man made her head spin, and when she was around him, she found herself constantly groping for balance. She couldn’t imagine what a relationship with him would be like. If it were anything like what she felt when he kissed her … well, she wasn’t sure she could handle it. Feelings that powerful, that sharp, couldn’t possibly last. Their relationship, if they even had one, would probably be one of those that burned brilliant and intense at first, then fizzled fast, like a sparkler on a birthday cake.

  Then there was James. What had he gotten himself into? Was he back on drugs? His behavior had certainly been erratic lately. But that could just be stress. God knew he’d been under a ton of it. She felt guilty for compounding his anxiety by keeping a close watch on him. But someone had to make sure Austin was properly taken care of. Someone had to make sure that James stayed on the right track, because if he veered off, the person most likely to pay—besides James himself—would be Austin. Bailey refused to let anything hurt that sweet little boy. If that meant James felt over-scrutinized, well, then, so be it. He was an adult. He’d have to deal.

  Just like she was going to have to deal if she had just turned evidence over to the FBI that could possibly send her brother back to prison.

  Her stomach recoiled at the thought. She couldn’t imagine how a photo of two cops and another man could implicate James. But there had to be a reason her attacker had mentioned him. Telling Kathleen Quinn about the comment had been tough, but she hadn’t been able to justify withholding the information. Not when there could be even the tiniest indication that someone out there might go after Austin to get at James.

  Knowing she couldn’t put it off anymore, she called her brother. He answered on the fourth ring, sounding as if her call had awakened him.

  “Jamie, it’s me.”

  “Where are you?” He sounded instantly alert. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She heard rustling in the background, as if he’d sat up in bed and shoved aside blankets and sheets. “Where’s Austin?” he asked.

  “With his grandparents.”

  “I’ve been calling over there. No one answers, and they haven’t returned my calls.”

  “They took him somewhere.”

  He paused a beat. “Where?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Bailey—”

  “I felt Austin wasn’t safe. He is now.”

  “I don’t like not knowing where he is.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you taking him?”

  “Taking him where?”

  “Away.” He took a breath. “From me.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Yes! leapt to mind, but she didn’t say it. Just because she wanted to didn’t mean she would … or could. She gripped the phone tighter. “Maybe you should be more worried about working out whatever it is that’s going on with you.”

  “I’m trying, Bay. I swear to you.”

  “Will you tell me what it is?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t think I should.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?

  “Yes.”

  “Jamie, please. You’ve got to talk to someone. Uncle Payne might be able to—”

  “I’m working on something, a plan. But I might have to go away.”

  She closed her eyes tight. “To prison?”

  “Witness protection.”

  Her pulse stuttered. “Oh.”

  “I’d want you to come with me and Austin,” he said quickly. “We could all start over somewhere new. Leave all this shit behind us and start fresh.”

  “Jamie, what—”

  “I can’t explain. Not without … just not yet. I need you to trust me.”

  Her heart tripped through several more beats. How many times had she wanted to leave Kendall Falls? Every time she saw Daniel in the Sun newsroom. Every time she heard his voice. Every time someone mentioned him. She’d stayed because of Austin. She couldn’t take him away from his grandparents. Besides, she’d needed their support, too. And she’d known that when James was released, he would most likely return to Kendall Falls, and that’s where he would live with Austin. So she’d stayed. As much as she hated it, she stayed.

  And now … what if this thing with Cole actually went somewhere?

  But then it hit her. If her brother went into witness protection, he’d take Austin with him. She’d never see either of them again. She’d never see Austin play in his first soccer game. Earn his first Cub Scouts badge. Get his driver’s license. Graduate from high school. She’d never hear his voice change or watch him grow six-feet tall. She’d never hear him laugh or be there for him when he cried.

  And what if James slipped again? Who would be there to protect Austin?

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” James said. “But I don’t think I’m going to have a choice.”

  She rubbed the center of her forehead. She couldn’t live without Austin. She simply couldn’t. He was a part of her, all but her own child. “Of course I would go with you and Austin,” she said.

  His sigh of relief gusted into the phone. “Thank God. I don’t know if I could do it without you, Bay.”

  She shifted into “get it done” mode. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Uncle Payne’s.”

  Silence.

  “Jamie?”

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  Hearing a scuff behind her, she glanced over her shoulder and got blindsided by a blow.

  Chapter 33r />
  Cole pushed the button on the intercom outside the gate to Payne Kincaid’s property. His hand shook, and he ordered himself to calm down. Kathleen had said to play it cool, but he wished to hell he knew what he was walking into.

  Jesus, why didn’t someone answer?

  “May I help you?” a disembodied male voice came from the speaker.

  Cole held his Kendall Falls Sun press ID up for the security camera. “I’m a reporter with the Sun and a friend of Mr. Kincaid’s guest, Bailey Chase. I need to see her. It’s urgent newspaper business.”

  “One moment, please.”

  What was he going to do if the guy wouldn’t let him in? Studying the iron gate spotlighted by his headlights, he calculated the odds of being able to drive his SUV through it. Probably not great, he thought.

  Suddenly, he wished he were the kind of guy who’d buy a Hummer. The tank-like vehicle would get crappy gas mileage, sure, and it was ugly as hell, but the gate before him would be scrap metal.

  Static came from the speaker, followed by the same voice. “Mr. Kincaid will meet you at the front door, Mr. Goodman.”

  The gate slid open without a sound.

  * * *

  Bailey tried to scream, but water flooded her mouth, went up her nose. The black-clad man who’d thrown her into the pool was coming right at her. She scrambled for leverage, using her arms, kicking with her legs, to try to outswim him. If she could just reach the shallow end, get solid ground under her feet, maybe she could fight him off.

  But he moved like a shark, swift and deadly, and he grabbed her from behind. Before she could do anything more than open her mouth to scream again, he shoved her head under. Chemical-laden water choked her, along with panic.

  She wrapped frantic fingers around arms that felt like ropy bands of hard muscle, yanked, pulled, pushed, trying to break his grip, frantic for air. Frantic to live.

  Bright red spots began to burst before her eyes.

  She flailed, tried to strike him, to hurt him, furious that the water drained the punch from her fists so that they glanced off of him without even making him grunt. As her lungs shrieked for air, the spots turned black, grew.

  And then he dragged her up by the hair into the warm, moist night air. Sweet, life-giving oxygen washed over her, and for what seemed like an eternity, she couldn’t draw a breath.

  Finally, she heaved in her first gulp, her head spinning. Instead of fighting, she clung to him to keep from going under again, vaguely aware that he wore the black balaclava.

  He got so close to her face that she felt his hot breath on her mouth. “I’m going to ask you once, and if you’re not straight with me, I’m going to kill you.”

  Her heart rate, already sprinting, spiked. She knew that voice.

  “Where’s the film?”

  She tried to answer, but all that came out was a pathetic croak. She tried again, and managed to gasp, “There’s no film.” She pulled in another wheezing breath. “I’d have turned it over to the cops by now anyway. I’m not stupid.” Another fit of coughing started to choke her.

  “Neither am I.” He shoved her under.

  In mid-cough, Bailey sucked what felt like a bucketful of water right into her lungs.

  * * *

  “I see, and why couldn’t you just call to get this information?”

  Cole watched the doubt cross the older man’s face as he closed his office door. Now that Cole had offered his excuse for being there—a photo Bailey had taken that afternoon required further information for a caption that would run in the morning’s newspaper—there was no way he could shift into a more plausible gear. “I tried to call but couldn’t get through,” he said. “You might want to make sure your phone is working.”

  Payne Kincaid’s features turned thoughtful, and Cole had to force himself not to ask him where he could find Bailey right now.

  “I enjoy reading your articles in the newspaper, Mr. Goodman,” Kincaid said, conversational, as he rested his hand on the doorknob. “Especially the recent profile you did on Senator Waters.”

  Cole resisted the urge to transfer his weight from one foot to the other. Why was the guy stalling? “Yes, he has good things planned for the area.” He tried to match the other man’s relaxed stance.

  “There was one thing he said that concerned me, though,” Kincaid said.

  Jesus! “What thing was that?”

  “When he was talking about drilling for oil in the Everglades. He seemed to have no regard for our endangered species.”

  Cole met the man’s quizzical gaze as it dawned on him that Kincaid was testing him. He knew about the attacks on Bailey, and he was making sure that Cole was not the culprit before leading him to her. Cole appreciated the precaution, and the apparent belief by Kincaid that if Cole did turn out to be the culprit, he could handle him. But didn’t the guy think Cole could have pulled a gun and blown him away by now if he’d wanted to?

  “You might have misread that part of the story, sir,” Cole said. “Senator Waters is firmly behind protecting Florida’s endangered wildlife.”

  “Yes, but that one quote ...”

  “Perhaps you’re referring to when he said he would be willing to hear what the oil companies have to say and weigh their arguments with those of the environmentalists.”

  Kincaid smiled. “Yes, that’s the one. It sounded to me that he could be easily swayed by the oil companies. What do you think?”

  “I think Senator Waters is trying to be diplomatic and not tick anybody off. He’s a politician after all.”

  “That’s a good point, Mr. Goodman.” He gestured toward the office door. “Shall we go see where we can find Bailey?”

  Finally.

  Cole walked a few paces behind Kincaid, down some stairs into a living area that sported fancy ceramic tile floors and tall windows that looked out on darkness. He wondered what Kincaid did for a living that was so lucrative.

  “I believe she’s out by the pool,” Kincaid said. “I felt she needed to relax—”

  When he broke off, Cole looked past him through the glass door that led outside and saw a man in the lighted pool. His arms were locked straight, his dark head bent as he stared intently at something in the churning water.

  What the hell?

  Then small, pale hands flailed in the water and realization tore through Cole. He shoved Kincaid aside and slammed through the door. “Hey!”

  The man in the pool jerked his head up and toward them.

  Kincaid yelled—”Get her!”—and shot past Cole. With an athletic dive, the older man sliced into the water with minimal splash while the intruder scrambled for the pool’s edge.

  Cole was already diving into the cool water, dread a numbing force as he saw that Bailey was facedown, her blond hair floating around her head. When he snagged her arm and pulled her toward him, her body flowed through the water easily, with no resistance.

  Turning her over, he tugged her quickly through the water to the steps in the shallow end. He hooked his hands under her arms and mounted the steps backward. The soles of his shoes touched the tile surface at the side of the pool, the slippery surface taking his feet out from under him. He landed hard on his butt, Bailey sprawled on top of him.

  She didn’t move, her body completely limp.

  Cole scrambled out from under her, careful to ease her gently to the tile. “Bailey!”

  Her lips were blue, her face white.

  She wasn’t breathing.

  He fumbled for the pulse in her neck, his own heartbeat off the charts. “Come on, come on.”

  Nothing.

  Peripherally aware of Kincaid shouting in the distance, Cole tilted her head back, pinched her nose closed, took a deep breath and blew into her mouth. Drawing back, he watched her face while he joined his hands and started to pump down on her chest.

  “Come on, Bailey, come on. Don’t do this.”

  His terror mounted when she continued to lay as still as death.

  “Come on, damn it.
Breathe. Breathe!”

  He lowered his head to repeat the process, but before he could fasten his lips over hers, a strangled cough brought forth a dribble of water that trickled from the corner of her mouth.

  “Yes!” Cole quickly rolled her onto her side and started rubbing her back.

  Her body convulsed with the violent coughing, but her blue lips were already pinkening.

  “That’s it,” he soothed. “Get rid of it. Let it go.”

  When she began to shiver, he shifted away to grab the towel draped over the back of a nearby chair then wrapped it around her and held her close. He stroked her back, her arm, her hair, listening to her wheeze and cough and gasp and thinking they were the best sounds he’d ever heard.

  Kincaid returned, a cell phone plastered to one ear as he shouted at the person on the other end of the line. “Search every millimeter of the grounds. He has to be out there somewhere.” He paused, and his red face grew more furious as he listened. “I don’t care. Find him. And then I want to know how the son of a bitch got onto my property!”

  When he stood before them, out of breath and dripping, he cut off the call. He knelt and touched Bailey’s hand, but his gaze was on Cole’s face. “How is she?”

  Cole nodded, unable to speak around the choking lump in his throat. Her lips had been blue. She hadn’t been breathing.

  Kincaid trailed his fingers over the wet hair clinging to her cheek, then smoothed it back from her face. He stilled, and his eyes narrowed.

  Cole knew he’d spotted the red mark along the curve of her jaw. “He must have hit her,” Cole murmured, then closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her wet temple. That fucking motherfucker fucker had hit Bailey.

  “Should I call for paramedics?” Kincaid asked, far more calm than Cole felt.

  Bailey surprised them both when she tugged away from Kincaid’s hand, however sluggishly. “I’m fine.”

  The older man smiled, his relief mirroring Cole’s. “I’ll get a blanket. That towel’s wet.”

 

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