“Payson-555 wants to know your twenty and speed,” Candice advised.
Kayne recognized the call sign. Rafe. “Sitting right at one-hundred now. We're just passing through Little Green Valley,” Kayne responded. “We so need this for a chase car,” he murmured under his breath. The Vanquish hugged the road like a desperate lover, just as responsive.
“Of course you'd volunteer to be its designated driver,” Jess replied dryly.
“Payson-555 says they're waiting at the turn off to Station-21.”
Station-21 was the Hellsgate Fire Department headquarters and sat right off the main highway on the east end of Star Valley, Payson’s neighboring town. With the highway alternating between two-lane and divided four-lane through this section, Kayne knew it was really the only place the backup units could fall in behind the vehicle.
Kayne shifted gears, he didn’t know what this asshole’s game was, but he wished to hell he was alone. The thought of anything happening to Jess scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of him. “Tell Payson 555 we’re crossing Dealer’s Choice, down to 85 mph.”
“Payson-555 copies,” dispatch replied.
Having divided his attention between the road and the rearview mirror, Kayne saw the other vehicle drop back slightly and edge into the oncoming lane. Then the chase vehicle made its move, swift and merciless, and, in moments, the driver was parallel to Kayne’s back fender, leaving Kayne a split second to recognize the PIT maneuver for what it was and get the fuck out of the way.
“Hold on!” He tapped the gas, and the Vanquish shot forward, just as the other vehicle would have pushed him into a spinout. Not the move of an amateur, which meant the driver had to know at this speed that even a vehicle like the Vanquish was almost guaranteed to roll. Still, the chase vehicle’s front bumper managed to graze his backend, sending him fishtailing.
“We've been hit.” Emotion vanished, and training took over. Kayne steered into the skid, taking them to the very edge of the paved shoulder before attaining the traction he needed to pull them back onto the highway. From the sound of the squealing tires behind him the other vehicle was having a harder time recovering, giving Kayne the extra seconds he needed to gain full control and ensure he stayed well in front. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the car or the road. “You okay, baby?”
“Yes.” Her response was clear and strong. A good sign.
”What’s your 10-20?” dispatch asked.
“We're about to enter Star Valley.”
The second they reached the four-lane highway, the chase car fell way back. Kayne thought they were about to make a U-turn and get the hell out of dodge, making him wonder if they had a scanner and knew there were units waiting. But before he could articulate the thought, the chase car accelerated hard, and Kayne knew they were done fucking around. “Hang on, Jess this might get rough.”
She laughed. Laughed. God love her.
Kayne watched, waited. At the last possible moment, he braked hard-left and slammed on the brakes, hoping to God that he wouldn't flip them himself. He snagged a peripheral glance of the black Mercedes sedan as it sailed past, missing them by mere millimeters.
The Vanquish came to a halt facing north on the east-west highway. Kayne watched the Mercedes skid into a one-eighty and head back toward them. This was no joy rider. That fucker knew how to drive, probably better than he did.
“Get down!” Kayne released his seat belt and threw himself over Jess, covering her with his body. He pulled his firearm and flipped the safety, ready to do whatever it took to protect the woman he loved. Instead of shooting like he'd feared, the vehicle took off back in the direction they'd come from.
“Black Mercedes AMG, no plate,” Kayne relayed to dispatch, not sure where the hell the phone had gone. “Passenger side front end damage.”
“PD wants to know if you are Code-4?” Dispatch's question was partially drowned out as marked and unmarked police cars blew past them, lights flashing. The damn Mercedes would top out at 186 mph without governors in place, and there was no fucking way the officers would catch him if he could lose them on a straightaway. God, if Jess wasn't with him, he'd go after the fucker!
Jess shoved at his shoulder, and he slowly sat up. “What are you waiting for, go after him!” She threw her hand in the direction of the fleeing vehicle.
Kayne told dispatch they'd be waiting at home. Even if he caught the asshole, he'd be without backup, and Jess would be a sitting duck in the car. There was no fucking way he'd risk Jessica's life for anything.
***
The phone rang as Jess and Kayne walked in the door, because, of course, Payson was a small town and everyone they knew owned a police scanner. The one person Jess wanted to hear from, fortunately, was one of the first—Polly. She assured them the children were all tucked in asleep, and Del would be sleeping on the couch. He, like Kayne, didn't believe in coincidences. Too many strange things had been going on lately.
Rafe walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, Trace and Nick on his heels.
Rafe whistled. “Ho-ly shit. You are a walking wet dream in that dress.”
Nick staggered back dramatically holding his hands over his chest. “Be still my horny heart, I think I'm in love.”
“Jesus, not a panty line in sight.” Trace gave Kayne a knowing grin. “Did you put that sexy little thing on for me, babe?” He gave her a long once over.
Kayne growled in response, stepping in front of her and blocking their view. The men laughed, and Kayne realized too late they'd been screwing with him.
Jess laughed. “Ignore them, especially Trace. He's a man-ho. He can't help himself; he's been that way since junior high. Rafe too.”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.” Trace leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Besides I was faithfully married once, as you well know. Before the bitch cleaned out my bank account and disappeared while I was stationed in A-stan. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget the seven months pregnant part that she never bothered to tell me about, according to the neighbors. I mean hey, why would I want to know that my wife was pregnant?” Trace threw up his hands in exasperation and let them fall to his sides.
Jess frowned sadly. “And you're so obviously over it.”
Trace gave her a serious look. “I wish someone could tell me they'd heard from her. Just so I know she's safe. No questions asked, that she’s alive.” Trace looked away for a moment. “It would be so much easier to hate her knowing she was alive and happy somewhere.”
Jess laid a hand on his arm. “I never heard from her after you guys moved away, Trace. I don't know what happened to her.”
Thankfully, Rafe turned the topic to the incident with the Mercedes. Kayne gave them a play-by-play, answered the standard questions: Had he noticed anyone following them, had there been any suspicious incidents lately, was there anyone who might have issue with them?
Kayne gave him a get real look. “You mean other than Cody, right?”
“We checked Johnson's place for the car first, though I don't think he'd take a chance with Jess in the car, even if he was that stupid. Besides, when we knocked on the door to talk to him he, uh...had company. We'd clearly interrupted. Apparently, he's not opposed to cougars.”
“She was hot. For an old lady.” Trace shuddered
Jess hopped up on the counter. “Why couldn't he have stayed in California?”
Kayne’s eyes snapped to hers. “California?”
She cocked her head. “Yeah, he studied at Oxnard for a semester or two before they kicked him out.”
Kayne’s brow furrowed. “Oxnard. When?”
Jess waved him off. “I don't know, right after Isabelle was born. He was back before the whole Meg–” Jess froze. Shit she'd been about to talk about Megan in front of the guys. “You know, the night of the accident, Cody was supposedly out with some ex-girlfriend he'd met while he was there.” Jess bit her lower lip.
Holy fuck! Kayne’s mind began to race. “The Russian Community Center is in Oxnard, but tha
t's a huge area compared to Payson.” Still, could there be a tie somehow between the two? Kayne did some quick mental math. Cody had attended and left college more than a year before Gracie had been abducted, but had his ex-girlfriend known the people in the car the night of the accident? Had Cody?
They made small talk. Kayne decided it was time to take that trip to Santa Barbara and follow up on the new leads he had since the detective seemed to be getting nowhere. The Russian Community Center kept working its way into conversation, and he didn't think that was a coincidence. When he outlined his plans, the guys readily agreed to hold down the fort at home.
Kayne wasn't surprised when the Sheriff's office advised they'd located the vehicle abandoned on the Tonto Village fire control road. It came back stolen from a dealer in Scottsdale. Of course, it had been sanitized.
“So, not that I'm complaining, but what are you guys doing out this late?” Kayne glanced at Rafe then Trace.
Rafe ran a hand over his scraggly jaw. He shook his head. “Baby-sitting the boys from Alphabet-Soup land.”
“Feds?” Kayne was surprised he hadn't heard something about them being in the area.
Rafe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, something big is about to go down in the area, hush-hush. There's a joint task force camped out—ATF, FBI, DHS—you name it, they're here. Hell, we've even got a sexy little French thing from InterPol running around, making everyone’s life miserable. And they aren't telling us jack shit. We're all supposed to just pretend they aren't here unless they want us to stoop, fetch, or carry for them, while they go about their business of hunting down some bad guy they’re expecting to show up any day now.”
Kayne chuckled. “So, tell us how you really feel about them being here.”
“You know, we may be a small town, but our officers know their shit. Several have transferred in with big agency experience like me, and the hometown boys are just as thoroughly trained. Hell some of us have even been through the academy at Quantico. This isn't our first rodeo, and I’m tired of them treating us like we’re incompetent country-bumpkins who are in their way. Glory seeking bastards,” he grumbled.
“So what happens if one of us accidentally has a run-in with this terrorist—I’m assuming it’s a terrorist of some sort to have garnered this much attention—without realizing it?” Nick asked.
Trace shook his head. “I don't think they'd let one of us get within a country mile of him. I'm telling you, the place is crawling with agents, and I agree with Rafe, I'm done babysitting. I have better things to do.”
“Such as what?” Rafe scoffed.
“Damned if I know. Kayne said they're leaving for Santa Barbara on the first flight out, so maybe Unka Trace will stay home and play Mr. Mom. You know corrupt and spoil the kiddos. If I have to babysit, I might as well enjoy it.” Trace gave them an unrepentant grin.
Hell! Trace probably would corrupt his kids too, but Kayne sure would like an extra set of eyes on them while he and Jess were gone. He hated the idea of letting the kids out of his sight. The feeling that this was somehow tied to his past and that his family was in danger had taken hold and wouldn’t let go.
***
Kayne had long ago removed his jacket and tie. He toed off his shoes and stripped, leaving the pile of clothes where they fell. Stepping into the shower, he wrapped his arms around Jess from behind. “I was so afraid I wouldn't be able to protect you,” he admitted, squeezing her tight.
Jess turned in his arms. “But you did. You were amazing.”
He leaned in and kissed her. “I want you.” He nuzzled her ear. “I need you.”
She came willingly into his arms, the look in her eyes telling him how very much she wanted him too.
Hours later, as he held her close and watched her sleep, he thanked all that was holy that she hadn’t been taken from him tonight.
THIRTY-FOUR
“Detective Figueroa, this is my wife Jessica.” Kayne shook the detective's hand when he met them at the airport terminal. They'd flown from Payson to Phoenix and Phoenix to Santa Barbara, arriving slightly after noon.
“We've met. Nice to see you again. Still wish it were under better circumstances.” He offered Jess his hand. “How do you guys feel about Mexican food? There’s this great little place where they make the tortillas fresh. I know Kayne likes it. It’s a cop favorite.”
“I love Mexican food,” Jess said.
“Then come on, kiddo, let’s get you fed.” Figueroa winked at Jess.
Jess asked about his family as they took their seats.
“Can you believe I'm gonna be a grandpa in a few short months? Hell, if I can get these last few cases closed, I might be able to retire.”
Kayne was admittedly shocked by how affable the detective was being. He'd been a total hard-ass for the last two years. No, that wasn't exactly true. They'd never gotten along when Kayne worked for the department either. Yet Jess seemed to have won him over with little effort.
Once they finished lunch, they headed to the department.
“What on earth do you have in here?” Kayne sat Jess's carry-on bag on the conference room table. He'd been lugging the thing around all day and curiosity had finally gotten the better of him.
“It's my copy of the case file.” Jess reached in and pulled two large folders out. “From Jarred's accident.”
Figueroa sat heavily in a chair. “I'm still trying to get copies from various agencies.”
“I have it all right here.” She patted the folder. “Everything that was written, including firsthand accounts by personnel on scene, as well as the taped copes of radio transmissions is in here. Well, CD's, but still, you get the point.”
“And you didn't feel like sharing them when I visited Payson?” Figueroa tossed her an annoyed look.
“You were being an asshole and all but accusing Kayne of murder. I figured you wouldn't settle for a copy of what I had, figuring I'd omit some key piece of evidence to screw with you. So I let you work for it.” Jess shrugged unapologetically.
“Okay, I deserve that. You're right—Kayne has been my prime suspect because nothing about the case ever added up unless he was involved. I'll buy that someone else killed the kids.” He held his hand up when Kayne opened his mouth to protest. “I'm not seeking a confession; we're just talking this out. It doesn't make sense for Oksana to kill the kids and let someone else take the baby, then wait for you to get home to commit suicide. Now, if you'd told me the maid we never found came in and caught Oksana in the act and slipped out with the baby, and you came home and lost it and shot Oksana out of grief, I'd totally buy that.” He looked at Kayne as if he expected him to suddenly agree. “Jesus Kayne, I don't know that I wouldn't have pulled the trigger if I were in that situation.”
Kayne leaned over the table and looked the asshole in the eye. “And yet, I didn't. So let’s get back to the facts.” Kayne should have known Figueroa would still be hunting for some involvement from him.
An hour later, they'd made no progress, and Kayne and Figueroa were back to arguing over who shot Oksana.
“Could she have left them alone?” Jess looked questioningly at Kayne. “Could she have gone to a neighbor’s or the store and left them napping, only to come back to find the older two had drowned themselves?”
Kayne slowly shook his head, his expression contemplative. “That still doesn't explain what happened to Gracie or why Oksana killed herself.”
“Kayne, she had severe depression and anyone who knows you, even a little, would realize those kids meant more to you than life itself. If she'd allowed something to happen to them, by fault or neglect, she might have figured you'd never forgive her.”
Kayne’s eyes narrowed. “Of course those kids were my world, that's how it's supposed to be, and I refuse to regret that! As far as forgiving her, I'd like to think I would have, but I don't know. I just don't know. She never gave me a chance to find out.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “It's possible she left the kids with someone.
God knows it wouldn't have been the first time. We'd argued over her leaving the kids with virtual strangers before, but she just didn't see the danger. Compared to Russia, Santa Barbara seemed safe to Oksana. Hell, the Watt's district of Los Angeles would probably seem safer than even Vyshgorod, where she’d attended boarding school.”
“Vyshgorod?” Jess pulled one of the binders back in front of her. “That sounds like the same place Ludmyla's parents were from.” She started turning pages in one of the two duplicate binders she'd brought along. She'd collected everything there was to acquire on Jarred's accident, from what he'd seen. Kayne's heart began to race, he did not believe in coincidences.
Kayne grabbed the other folder and started searching for a name he’d seen on a report earlier. “Trace said, when he talked to...” Kayne paused, flipping pages until he found what he was looking for. The autopsy report for Ludmyla Viktrovna Oleksevna. “Viktor Oleksy, that Olesky told him they were from Vyshgorod and knew nothing about Gracie?” Kayne looked at Jess expectantly.
“Who is Viktor Oleksy?” Figueroa’s expression was confused.
Kayne pointed to Ludmyla's name. “Ludmyla was her given name. Viktrovna is her patronymic name, and Oleksevna is the surname, but it's also diminutized. So anyone who sees her name knows she is Ludmyla, the daughter of Viktor Oleksy.”
Jess flipped to a different section in her binder, shaking her head. “No, according to Trace’s report, his name was Konstantin Mechnikov.”
“Mechnikov?” Figueroa’s face lit with interest, and he shuffled through a thick stack of papers. “I interviewed a... Myla Mechnikov at the Russian Community Center the day after the incident. She claimed Oksana hadn't been there that day. Yet when the other detective shared his interview notes, another woman he'd talked to had seen Oksana there that morning. She'd had a job interview.” Figueroa looked up from his notes.
“A job interview? Are you sure?” Kayne’s expression clouded with doubt.
“I'm positive. It's one of the reasons I didn't buy your story of her depression. I sent one of Oxnard’s Russian-speaking officers back to the center a few days later, and he spoke with the daycare director, Petra Rakovna. She confirmed Oksana had interviewed and accepted a job offer, an administrative position. Ms. Rakovna claimed Oksana had been extremely happy about the job.”
Razing Kayne Page 29