In the Blink of an Eye

by Julie Miller

  “Darn it. I need my bag.”

  “Jules.” The impatience in Mac’s voice finally hit her, reminding her that success didn’t necessarily mean safety.

  “I know. I’m going.”

  She turned her attention to the computer itself, logged out and turned off the machine.

  Without the constant hum of the computer’s fan to blanket the noise, she finally heard it. The distinctive rasp of metal sliding against metal. The tumble and click of a key in a lock.

  Julia froze. Her rush of victory sat like a lump in her throat. She had to force the words past it.

  “Someone’s in the outer office.”

  She killed the light and rose to her feet as the outside door opened and closed.

  If she used such words, she would have cursed. “Mac?” It was barely more than a breath. Not enough to carry through the walnut door.

  She heard footsteps, too muffled on the carpeting to guess their direction, but from the even purpose in every stride, she knew the intruder wasn’t there to clean the place.

  Her heart rate pounded in her neck, drowning out the sound of rational thought. “What do I do?”

  “Try the side door.”

  Of course. Julia tilted her head back, able to breathe again. She dashed to the second exit and tried the knob. “It’s locked.”

  She reached inside her pocket for Josh’s lock pick, but a key rattled in the other door.

  “Jules?”

  She glanced about the room. Windows on the eighth floor weren’t an option. They were too high to reach, anyway. That left hiding.

  “Jules?”

  Hugging the printout inside her jacket, she dove for the floor and crawled beneath the heavy walnut desk.

  As the doorknob turned, she pulled the chair to its original position and held her breath.

  The light came on. For one horrible instant, she thought she cast a shadow. But no. Of course not. She was hidden beneath the desk. In her earpiece she heard a different door slam. She pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle the bubble of hysteria that threatened to rise from her throat.

  The intruder took two more of those powerful strides and then stopped.

  Please be hanging up a coat, she pleaded in her mind. Hang up your coat and go away.

  Of course, why would someone do that? Why would someone bother to come into a deserted office on a Sunday morning and do nothing more than hang up his coat?

  The intruder moved again. Intruder? Ha! She was the one who didn’t belong here. She wondered if it was safe to breathe, or if she should just go ahead and pass out. Unconscious people were pretty quiet. And quiet was good.

  Her mind was babbling.

  Thirty years old with a college degree in one of the most challenging fields on the planet—and she was babbling.

  The intruder moved again. He crossed over to the second door and shook the knob. He knew she’d been there.

  He knew!

  Though he walked more slowly, she could still detect the deliberate placing of each foot. He circled the desk now. He stopped behind the chair, giving her a glimpse of expensive leather loafers and tailored wool slacks.

  And while her mind catalogued the idea that this man made good money and had even better taste, the chair moved.

  No. It flew.

  Almost quicker than the events could register, the man swooped down, snatched Julia by the arms, pulled her up onto her feet and had her slammed against a wall and pinned at the neck by a meaty forearm.

  Brooks Brothers suit aside, this man didn’t spend all his time behind a desk. He was big. Though not quite as tall as Mac, he was muscular. And angry. Not that out-of-control fury that turned a man’s cheeks red. This was cold anger. Heartless anger. The glare in this man’s gray-green eyes told her he had no heart.

  “Who are you?” The man’s voice held the same chill as his eyes.

  The pressure on her neck eased only enough for her to answer. “Julia Dalton.” She had to think of something to say, some excuse to defend herself. But all she could manage beneath his unforgiving glare was, “I’m a nurse.”

  The room began to spin and she found she had to make an effort to breathe. If he was aware of her discomfort, he didn’t care. He pushed a little harder with his forearm, lifting her onto her toes, though he still wasn’t suffocating her. She flattened herself against the wall, avoiding the brush of his hand as he reached inside her jacket and pulled out the paper. “What are you doing with these, Nurse Dalton?”

  “I, um—”

  “Jules?” Mac’s sharp rasp cut through the fog of fear, and she knew he was coming for her.

  “No. Stay away.”

  “I won’t hurt you,” the man said, misinterpreting her plea. “But breaking and entering is a crime. A serious one in the D.A.’s office. You’re not going anywhere. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police right now.”

  Mac shouted a command into her ear, his voice sounding impossibly close. “Tell him you’re with me.”

  “I—”

  “Tell him you’re with me!”

  “I’m a friend of Mac Taylor’s,” she stammered, more afraid of what Mac had in mind than what this man could do to her.

  All at once he released her. Her feet hit the floor with an embarrassing thud and her knees started to crumple. But he put a hand on her arm and steadied her. “This should be interesting.”

  “I don’t understand.” Why the abrupt change in his demeanor?

  “I’ve been waiting for Taylor to show his face. I want to ask him myself why he feels the need to blow the biggest trial of the year for me.”

  “It’s not like that,” she pleaded, following him back to his desk when she should be running away. “He’s not like that. He’s been set up.”

  That coldhearted beast sat back in his chair as if he didn’t have the power to ruin Mac’s life and destroy hers in the process.

  “Then let him prove it.”

  The office door swung open with a wild slam.

  There stood Mac, tall and scarred and impossibly brave.

  “Let her go, Dwight. And I will.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you sure we can trust Dwight Powers?” Julia asked, pulling Mac’s hand through the crook of her elbow as they left the green truck and headed toward the Independence Center Mall complex, a sprawling, bustling, three-story yellow brick testament to shopping and entertainment.

  Mac gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. He’d touched her like that a lot today. Putting an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her hand, linking his arm through hers. It was as if he didn’t want to let her out of his sight, or, in a blind man’s own way, he didn’t want to let her out of his touch.

  “What Dwight Powers lacks in personality he makes up for in integrity. Believe me, he wants to nail this guy as badly as we do.”

  After explaining the facts she and Mac had uncovered—the trail of missing evidence and conveniently dead witnesses, the cases that were dismissed as a result, the names that showed up repeatedly in each situation—Dwight Powers was more than willing to place a phone call regarding the Arnie Sanchez trial.

  He’d set up a meeting for Mac to supposedly make a deal. Mac would get his name cleared off Internal Affairs’s most-wanted list in exchange for testifying that the fibers I.A. had confiscated from his house had been mislabeled, and that they’d come from the Sanchez house, not their murdered son’s burial site.

  “But why here?” she asked. Independence Center was located in a suburb a good twenty miles east of their home neighborhood near downtown Kansas City. Julia couldn’t help but survey the parking lot around them, wondering in which one of the thousands of parked cars sat their blackmailer.

  “Chances are, the cops here won’t recognize me on sight, so they won’t interfere with the sting.”

  “And Josh and Mitch and Ginny are here, right?”

  He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. “A good plan always includes backup. All I h
ave to do is get the offer out of this guy. Mitch will get it on tape, and then one of them can make the arrest.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” Julia opened one of the entrance doors to the mall, and as was his habit, Mac held it for her to proceed first. They linked arms again when they were through the second set of doors. “But none of this has been simple, has it?”

  “No. But I promise this will be over soon.”

  Mac’s words were meant to calm her anxious nerves. But instead of allaying her fears for his safety, they set her mind on the unsure course of her future.

  Mac cared for her. Of that, she had no doubt. He found her reasonably attractive. Last night had given her proof of that.

  But Mac seemed content to live in the moment. He had made no mention of any kind of future together. What if this was all one grand, glorious adventure on his part? An investigation like any other he might obsess over? She was merely his partner for this one particular journey. Would he have any use for her—as his eyes, his nurse, his companion—his lover—when all this was over?

  Or would he give her another one of those blood-searing kisses, tell her again that her debt to him had been repaid, and then send her back to her old lonely life?

  She had given up pretending she felt anything less than love for Mac. And she knew in her heart that she would never love another man.

  But was she woman enough for a man to commit his whole life to? Or was she, as Dr. Casanova had said, only good for a fling? Anthony hadn’t wanted anything more from her once she’d served his purpose. Would Mac cast her aside once her usefulness to him had ended?

  “It’s been a lot of years since I’ve been out here.” Mac interrupted the depressing self-assassination of her confidence with a grim, all-business expression on his face. “Why don’t you walk me around and orient me to the place. We have time, don’t we?”

  Julia checked her watch. They had a full forty-five minutes before their contact was supposed to show.

  She buried her misgivings about a future with Mac and applied herself to the very real threat of simply surviving the present.

  She walked him down ramps and across catwalks, all the while identifying stores and the scents or sounds he could associate with them. She walked him through the maze of chairs and tables at the center of the food court, and took him by the children’s play area with its snack carts and two-story carousel. She answered every question about this security booth or that power relay grid, about the escalators and stairs and the indoor rock garden.

  With the same patience she had always shown, she answered everything he asked. By the time five o’clock rolled around, she had her microphone and transmitter in place, sore feet, and a very real fear that a blind man couldn’t find his way around this mall—much less trap the crooked cop who wanted him dead.

  MAC GRIPPED THE rail of the catwalk where he stood and waited for the vertigo to pass. When the dizziness faded, he relaxed the clench of his jaw and opened his eyes.

  He hadn’t had an attack like this since—since before Julia. She’d forced him out into the real world again. Forced him to do something about his guilt instead of wallowing in it. She’d shown him there was a hell of a lot more to life than test tubes and badges and finding the truth.

  He definitely had to make time for a personal life once all this was over. He had to make time for a trip to the hospital and his eye surgery. Time to recover. Time to regain his strength.

  Time for Julia.

  But he had to survive these next few minutes first.

  Running an undercover sting wasn’t exactly his forte. He flourished behind the scenes, after the fact. But knowing she was out there somewhere, watching over him, expecting the best from him, made the deception a little bit easier.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me there with you?” Julia’s clear voice washed over him, taking away his dizziness and making him feel normal. Strong.

  “Yes. If this gets ugly, I don’t want you in the way.” Knowing she was safely out of harm’s way, serving only as another lookout, helped, too.

  “But I feel so helpless just standing here watching you.”

  He grinned. “Now you can get a taste of what it was like for me when you were in Powers’s office.”

  “But you suspected Powers would be our ally, didn’t you? I doubt—”

  “He’s here.” Josh’s voice clipped over the line, cancelling out the personal conversation and getting them down to the business at hand.

  “Everybody ready?” asked Mac.

  “You bet.” That was Josh.

  “The tape’s ready when you are.” Mitch had that under control.

  “I’ve got the main entrance covered.” Ginny had come, too.

  “Okay, Jules.” Mac briefly turned his attention back to her. “Give me a visual of what’s going on.”

  “I see Arnie Sanchez, suit, overcoat. He’s with another man. Taller, a bit plump. The second man’s carrying a black leather briefcase.” Her calm, measured voice made it easy for him to turn and meet his guests. “They’re coming from the east, just passing the leather shop now. About twenty paces from you.”

  Mac adjusted his dark glasses over his eyes, then tucked his hand inside the pocket of his black leather jacket and fingered the plastic evidence bag he’d brought with him.

  “Ten paces.” He waited for the exact moment. “Four.”

  “Gentlemen,” Mac greeted them. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Mr. Taylor.” He recognized Arnie Sanchez’s voice from the numerous television reports that had aired earlier in the year during the kidnapping investigation. “I thought you were blind.”

  Tactless, but rich and desperate. “I got better.”

  “This is my lawyer, Marvin Lee.”

  Mac didn’t consider shaking hands. “Shall we get down to business?”

  He pulled out the evidence bag that held a thread from the black shirt he’d worn yesterday, and held it up, tauntingly, between two fingers.

  Sanchez didn’t waste any time. He knocked Mac’s hand down, and Mac smiled as he stuffed the bag back into his pocket. “I paid very good money to have that evidence disappear, Mr. Taylor. I was not pleased when Marvin called and said the district attorney was introducing a second sample that could implicate me in my stepson’s death. When your call came, it wasn’t the one I expected.”

  Mac shrugged as if he didn’t care about the D.A.’s case. “I’ll bet not. I just wanted a piece of the action. After all, my career’s been pretty well shot to hell. I might as well get something out of it.”

  “How much?”

  “How much did you pay Joe Niederhaus?”

  Sanchez’s lawyer tried to hush him. “Arnie, don’t say anything more.”

  Julia reported Sanchez’s reaction. “He’s waving him off. The man looks pretty impatient to me. Be careful.”

  Mac nodded, acknowledging her comment and goading Sanchez at the same time. This was the connection he needed Sanchez to make.

  Arnie took the bait. “If I match Niederhaus’s price, that fiber sample winds up in a fire or a vat of acid?”

  “Done.” So that smoky old I.A. bastard had been responsible for Jeff Ringlein’s death. And Lawrence Munoz’s. And in an indirect way, Wade Osterman’s. “Did you pay him to kill me, too?”

  “That was his idea.” Sanchez was getting hot now. A trace of his old-world accent shaded his polished voice. “He thought you were getting too curious for your own good.”

  “He’s done work for you before, hasn’t he?”

  Julia again. “His lawyer’s pulling him back a step.”

  Mac could hear the heated whispers, but couldn’t make out the words. He was going to lose them if he wasn’t careful. But Sanchez had one more accusation to make. “This is sounding more like a setup than a business meeting. I’ll make the same arrangements with you that I did with Niederhaus. A generous deposit will be funded into your retirement account. And then I don’t want to hear from yo
u again.”

  Vindication sent a surge of victory through Mac’s veins. He flipped out his badge. “I’m a long way from retiring, Sanchez. You’re under arrest for attempting to bribe a police officer.”

  “You’re on leave,” the lawyer reminded him.

  “A citizen’s arrest, then.” Mac pocketed his badge, and took a step forward, sensing Sanchez’s retreat. “Numerous counts of bribing a police officer and tampering with the judicial process. I’ll get around to the fact you killed your stepson some other day.”

  “Why you—”

  “Arnie, don’t make it worse.”

  “Josh is right behind them.” He could hear Julia’s sigh of relief over the transmitter. His chest expanded with one of his own.

  “Will my badge do, gentlemen?” Josh took entirely too much pleasure in his work, thought Mac. He listened for the definitive rachet sound of handcuffs closing over Arnie Sanchez’s wrists. “Nice going, big brother.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m on my way up.” Julia’s breathless excitement skittered along his nerve endings. With his hand guiding him along the railing, he turned to his left and walked toward the ramp that led down to her lookout position to meet her halfway.

  “Hold it right there, Taylor.”

  “Mac?” He heard the low, steady voice the same time Julia saw the man behind him. “It’s Eli Masterson.”

  Mac halted in his tracks. He had a feeling…

  “He’s got a gun.”

  Mac could hear Julia’s breathless panic. “Stay where you are,” he warned her.

  “But—”

  “Stay put. Mitch, Ginny—find Niederhaus. He’s got to be here somewhere.”

  And then he turned around. His first impression of Masterson was that he was an honest cop. Fair. He prayed his assumption was right.

  “Do you know where your partner is?” asked Mac.

  “He came in the back way to cut you off, in case you tried to escape. I hate to cuff a blind man, but in your case I’ll make an exception. Funny how a man who can’t find his way around the house can make himself disappear in a big city.”

  “I had help.”