There’s a way to end this madness, Ellebird. You can trade your own life for the lives of those around you. Go to this website and enter: ELLEBIRD, FUNERAL. You’ll find instructions there. If you decide not to come, remember—their blood is on your hands.
Their blood is on your hands.
A sob rose from deep within her at the thought, at the implications.
Her gaze skittered around the room. How had this note gotten here? How had the killer managed to get into her house undetected? Not just into her house—into her room. Her bed.
Her blood went cold at the thought.
If she offered herself or not, she could be dead. In the blink of an eye. Wasn’t that how quickly things could change?
If she didn’t this madness could continue...for how long? Was there really an end in sight? The men seemed to be brilliant, brazen and disgustingly evil. Their tirade would continue until they got what they wanted.
And apparently, what they wanted was Elle.
She closed her eyes as images of what would happen once she was in their clutches flashed through her mind. Torture. Agony. No, these men wouldn’t offer her a fast death. They’d come too far for that.
She could tell the FBI agents downstairs. Denton. Her father.
She was sure they’d all jump right on it.
But to no avail.
They were dealing with people who’d outsmarted all of them. Who could apparently walk through walls. Who knew their next step before they did. Who had the magic of technology at their fingertips.
She could turn over the information with hopes of finding a lead.
Or she could end this whole nightmare.
No, no, no, no.
She couldn’t hand herself over to killers. She shuddered to think what they might do to her.
But could she sit idly by while everyone around her suffered? Innocent people? Who would be next?
She slipped the letter back into the envelope and walked to her dresser. Where was her laptop? She always kept it in her room.
She closed her eyes. Except that she’d taken it downstairs earlier. She needed to access that website. See what information was there.
How would she get downstairs without Denton taking note? She didn’t know.
But before she made any decisions, she’d check the website. She had to.
Because her heart couldn’t take putting anyone else in her life in danger.
* * *
Elle’s hand trembled on the stair railing as she tiptoed downstairs. Act normal. Act naturally. Tiptoeing and trembling were anything but natural.
She paused before reaching the bottom step, sucked in a deep breath and willed herself to relax. She’d casually walk to her office, get her laptop and escape upstairs again. She could do this without anyone getting suspicious.
Except maybe Denton.
He seemed to have a sense about him. Sometimes it had seemed like he knew her better than she knew herself.
She spotted him across the room, looking a bit distracted for the first time since she’d known him. Maybe seeing that picture of him and his wife had done it. Now that Elle thought about it, that would be jarring. The picture made it obvious that the two had loved each other. Their affection showed in their eyes.
Denton looked up as she breezed past. She didn’t stop to talk to anyone—just made a beeline for her office, grabbed her laptop and turned to—
She collided with Denton. “What’s going on?”
She swallowed, straightened her shirt, resisted her crazy urge to reach for him. “Nothing’s going on. I just need my laptop.”
“Can we talk? Really talk?” His voice sounded low and earnest, and it made Elle want to forget everything else going on. But she couldn’t.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, willing herself to remain calm and cool. “There’s something I’ve got to do that can’t wait. Maybe later?”
His gaze searched hers, the pain in his eyes making her want to pour everything out. Could he read her thoughts? Did he know what had happened? Because something about the man always made her feel like he could see into her soul.
He nodded. “Later.”
She forced a smile and hurried past, up the stairs, into her room where she locked the door. She’d done it. She’d gotten by Denton. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her breathing felt shallow.
Should she really do this?
Yes, she decided. She should.
Her hands shook so badly against the keyboard that she thought with certainty she’d never get the website address typed. Four tries later, a site popped up. Plain. Just a white background. In the middle of the screen was a place to type the username and password. She typed them in just as they directed.
Another white screen appeared, this one with black letters running across it.
She braced herself for what she might discover here.
Good girl, Ellebird. We knew you’d put the safety of others above your own. I’m sorry it’s come down to this, but there’s no backing out now. If you tell anyone about this note or website, then we’ve wired bombs in your parents’ and boyfriend’s bedrooms. We’ve already planted listening devices around the house, so leak a word of this, and your parents and Denton will be gone with one push of the button. Understand?
Her chest squeezed with pain. No. This couldn’t be happening.
She continued reading, though it felt like her world was spinning.
Go to your car this evening at midnight. We’ve programmed an address into your GPS. It will tell you where to go. We’ll be waiting. Don’t be late.
She glanced at her watch. Midnight? That was five hours away.
She covered her face with her hands.
What was she going to do?
Her hands slipped from her face. She knew what she had to do. She had no other choice.
EIGHTEEN
Denton couldn’t stop the shock from making him feel both numb and outraged.
How had someone gotten those photos of him and Wendi? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen them. One of Wendi’s friends was a photographer and had snapped the photos while playing with a new camera. Denton had stored the pictures on his computer—which would explain how someone had gotten them. If one of the men was an IT guy, then he could easily have hacked into Denton’s home computer. Based on everything Denton had seen so far, the man was probably a computer genius, for that matter.
Whoever these guys were, they knew exactly what was going on in this investigation. They’d known that to get to Elle, they could send her those pictures and make it look as if Denton wasn’t a one-woman man. Even more than that, they knew Elle’s fear was falling for a man she couldn’t trust. How did they know that?
Her ex-fiancé came to mind. Of course Preston would know that. And with his connections within the family’s networks, he could have someone on the inside keeping an eye and ear open for what was going on. There were probably others who knew Elle’s history, but Denton was too distracted to think of them. He was still caught up in the memory of the way Elle had looked when she handed him the phone.
He wanted the chance to reassure Elle. But he knew she needed space, and he would respect that. She had been through a lot, and she was no doubt still mourning the loss of her best friend. All the trauma in her life was bound to affect her. She’d put on a good front, but now it seemed as if things were getting to her. No one could fault her for that.
Besides, was he ready to love again? He’d convinced himself that he was. But seeing those pictures of Wendi brought back a fresh wave of emotions and memories.
Was his soul ready for the risks involved? He’d been content with knowing he’d found love once in his life. Could you find a great thing more than once?
He knew
the answer—a resounding yes.
He nodded, a seriousness falling over him. He’d thought his heart felt weighed down before. Now it felt anchored with no hopes of dislodging from the heaviness holding it back.
Time. Give her time. Why was that so hard?
At least she seemed content, for lack of a better word, to stay put. He could rest assured that she was safe. That afforded him the opportunity to do some more research on her ex-fiancé and everyone else who had a motive. He had to find these guys in order to begin repairing all the damage they’d already done.
* * *
Elle slipped a pocketknife into her shoe. Hid a razor in her back pocket. Donned a bright yellow T-shirt with a black hoodie over it. Squeezed a sample-sized perfume under the band of her watch where she could slip it out and use it as a type of eye irritant if necessary.
No, she wasn’t tough. But she was smart. She’d fight for her life. She’d fight for the lives of those she cared about.
The clock read 11:30 p.m. The house had quieted and everyone had slipped to bed. The agents had dispersed for the evening.
But then there was Denton. How she could possibly sneak past him baffled her. He seemed to anticipate her every move. Every squeak coming from the house was on his radar in point-five seconds.
If she could get to the door leading to the garage, she could turn off the house alarm for long enough to get outside to her car. But then there was the matter of starting her car, making it down the driveway, past Denton’s agent stationed outside and far enough away that no one would be able to follow her once they noticed she was gone.
Sweat covered her brow just thinking about it.
One wrong move and everyone she loved could die.
What other option did she have?
If she told Denton, the killers would hear her and kill them all.
She’d considered sending Denton a message by email or text, but with the computer expertise these guys were showing, certainly they’d pick up on that also.
She picked up a memo pad. She could leave a handwritten note. That was the one thing the killers couldn’t intercept. Writing by hand? Who did that anymore?
She would.
Just a short note, she told herself, to her parents and Denton. She’d tell them how much she loved them and that they should get out of the house ASAP and have the bomb squad come out. She’d tell them she did this for them. And she was sorry, but there was no other way.
At eleven forty-five, she opened her door, praying it wouldn’t squeak. It didn’t. Using every ounce of willpower, she tiptoed down the hallway. When she reached the end, she paused. She heard nothing.
She’d made it this far. Now she had to see if the rest of her plan would work. She just needed a ten- or fifteen-minute lead time, she’d figured.
Silence surrounded her as she crept down the back stairway. At the landing, she scanned the hallway behind her. Nothing.
Relief and fear filled her. She’d half expected Denton to pop out and ask what she was doing.
Quickly, she punched the security code into the keypad by the door. She tried to mask the beeps by using a cloth to cover the speaker. It worked, but not entirely. She had to move fast.
She slipped outside, grabbed some gasoline from the garage, and hunkered down as she walked to the backyard. Her hands shook as she poured the fluid over the grass twenty feet out from the house.
Her gaze skittered around her. No sign of the night guard.
Using a lighter, she ignited the gas. Flames flared into the nighttime sky, growing by the moment.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Wasting no more time, she ran toward her car, parked in the driveway. She stayed close to the house, her heart pounding in her ears.
Checking to see the coast was clear, she crouched until she reached her vehicle. She crawled inside and started the ignition. It purred to life.
The GPS popped on. Sure enough, there were directions waiting for her. They’d somehow managed to program her system.
Lord, help us.
She had no time to waste. She pushed on the accelerator—hard. Her car zoomed forward.
She hit the button resting atop her sun visor, and the gate slowly swung open. She turned hard once she reached the street, and she didn’t let up. She wouldn’t let up.
Not when the lives of everyone else depended on her.
* * *
Denton’s gut had been trying to tell him something all night. He hadn’t been able to sleep as he tried to piece together the clues his intuition seemed to offer.
He stood in the library, hands on hips. He’d hoped Elle might come down, but he’d known she wouldn’t. She had said she wanted to turn in early.
The insomniac deserved to sleep some. He couldn’t argue that.
He snuck downstairs and began scouring articles about past cases Senator Philips had participated in as attorney or judge. There was something in here somewhere. He just had to figure out what.
He lingered on one article. The picture underneath caught his eye. The photo was of a middle-aged couple, trailed by two young adult males. It gave him pause enough to read more.
The article was about the trial of a man accused of killing a young woman named Katrina Matthews. She’d walked into the middle of a drug bust gone bad. One of the drug dealers shot her while trying to evade authorities. The police eventually caught the man. The case went to trial but was thrown out because of a technicality. The police had forgotten to read the man his rights. The family decried the lack of justice for Katrina, and rightfully so. The system had failed them and there’d been little anyone could do about it. It was one of the last cases Senator Philips had judged before being elected to the senate.
Denton blew up the picture, focusing on the two teenage boys. One was shorter, heavier, and the other tall and thin. Just like the bank robbers? He focused on their faces. The taller one seemed familiar, but why and from where?
Thomas and Ryan Matthews. Denton did an internet search for their names.
The older one popped up. The man had a criminal record. He’d been charged with assault in a domestic dispute. He just got out of jail three months ago. When his sister had been murdered, he’d been in the military...and was an explosives expert. He was discharged for bad conduct.
Denton swallowed. He enlarged the man’s mug shot. He was heavier now and his hair was shorter with a tight buzz cut.
He sucked in a breath. He knew where he’d seen the man before. He was part of the Philipses’ cleaning service.
He stood just as a subtle sound caught his ear. What was that? It almost seemed like a beeping. The noise was so muted, he wondered if he was hearing things.
He pulled his gun anyway. Cautiously, he started toward the south wing of the house. Just as he reached the door leading into the garage, his cell vibrated. He plucked it from his belt. It was the agent he had stationed outside.
Keeping a watchful eye on everything around him, he put the phone to his ear. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a situation in the backyard. A fire.”
“Did you see anyone suspicious?”
“No...”
Denton bristled, wondering about his stalled reaction. “What? What is it?”
“A car just took off down the driveway, sir.”
His back muscles tensed. “A car? What car?”
“I’m not sure. A silver sedan.”
Elle. That was Elle’s car. What was she doing?
“Do you want me to go after it?”
Denton shook his head. “No. Let her go. I’ll find her. I need you it come inside and evacuate everyone in the house, then check out Elle’s room. See if there’s anything suspicious there. Understand?”
“Understood, sir.”
&n
bsp; Denton grabbed his keys from his pocket, punched in the alarm code—which was probably the noise he’d heard earlier—and ran to his SUV.
He pulled up a website on his cell as he hurried. A couple seconds later, a dot appeared on a map. A moving dot. Elle. He knew her exact location thanks to the tracker he’d had put in her necklace.
He had to get to her before the killers did.
* * *
Elle’s hand trembled on the steering wheel. Sweat trickled from her forehead and down her temples as the dark road stretched before her, only illuminated by the beam of her headlights.
What was she doing? Was there no other way? Really?
These guys were smart. The GPS would lead her to their location. That meant there’d be no record of where she was going. She had no cell phone for authorities to use to pinpoint where she was. Nothing to guide anyone to help her.
She traveled farther into the backwoods of Virginia Beach, the side that tourists rarely saw.
“Turn right in fifteen feet.”
The grating male voice on the GPS nearly sent her through the roof.
She slowed as a street appeared ahead. The road was nothing more than a gravel lane leading into the woods. Here, there were no streetlights. Only her headlights guided her down the narrow road. Rocks popped beneath her tires, rumbling, churning along with her gut.
What was going on back at her parents’ house? No doubt the fire had been discovered. She’d set it far enough away that they should be able to douse the flames before its hot fingers reached the building’s walls. Certainly they’d discovered she’d already left. Had Denton tried to follow her?
Tears pushed their way out. Would they ever understand why she’d done this? Was it truly the right thing?
She sucked in a deep breath. She had to believe it was, to stop second-guessing herself. She was doing this to preserve the lives of those she loved. She hoped, in the process, to save her own life also. Most would call that foolhardy. She didn’t know what she’d call it.
Key Witness Page 18