Protector With A Past

by Harper Allen

  "That's right." Tascoe grunted. "When you showed up just now I thought you'd put the pieces together, like I did. Sheila was shot like the Wilcox woman."

  "Isabel Wilcox came out of the parking garage where they'd been cornered, pulled a gun and took down the two nearest officers before she was killed herself," Cord said shortly. "But, how does Paul's death fit in?"

  "That freaky psycho Wallace, remember?" Tascoe said. "He thought he could leap from the roof of the parking garage to the next building and escape. Bad way to go, even for someone like him."

  "I don't understand—" Julia began, but Cord cut her off.

  "There was a fence down below, with iron railings." He didn't elaborate, and he didn't have to. Her eyes darkened in sick comprehension, and then he went on, addressing Tascoe. "We can catch up on the rest of the history lesson later. What I need to know now is what's going on in that house."

  "The husband's unconscious," Tascoe said. "I arrived about ten minutes after Donner did, parked my car in a bunch of bushes and came from there on foot. The first thing I saw was the dog." He shot Julia a look. "I got in sight of the house just in time to see Donner dragging a body around the house to that little hatchway thing that opens up in the ground, whatever the hell that is."

  "The entrance to the root," Cord said. "But Donner wouldn't bother locking Frank away if he was dead already."

  "I think he's trying to keep to the script he wrote for himself." Tascoe scowled. "It's not queasiness that's keeping him from turning this into a bloodbath, it's that he wants everything to mirror what happened to his family as close as possible. But the woman tied up in the house doesn't know that."

  "Mary," Julia supplied, her lips tight. "Where in the house is she?"

  "In the kitchen. He locked the two older kids in some kind of pantry—I only got a quick look through the window," he explained. "But the woman's tied to a chair, and the little girl's asleep on her lap—either that or she's been drugged to keep her quiet," he said doubtfully. "And Donner's just sitting there, as if he's waiting for something. I knew when I saw the kids I couldn't risk trying to take him down myself. I was on my way back to use my car phone to call that dipstick Phil Stamp and his little firecracker partner to tell them to get over here," he ended grudgingly.

  "That's exactly what we don't want," Cord said sharply. "If Donner decides to go out in a blaze of gunfire innocent people are going to die. Besides, we've got no guarantee that he's not about to leave with Lizbet any second now. Tascoe, get your guns and follow us. I've got a plan."

  As the three of them crept closer to the deceptively quiet house, Julia found herself growing tenser by the second. Cord outlined his proposal briefly. He would enter the house by a back upstairs window, he told them—there was a maple tree whose limbs came close enough for him to get into the bedroom that had been his as a boy. Julia and Tascoe were to stay at the front of the house.

  "Where's Donner's vehicle?" he asked, frowning.

  "Beats me, Chief," Tascoe answered with a shrug.

  They were at the last stand of shrubs before the lawn started, and Cord gave her a quick look. "We have to assume that if he gets suspicious he's going to make a run for it with Lizbet," he told her. "I want you and Tascoe to watch the porch in case he does, and by then I'll be coming at him from behind. Don't let him get her to his car."

  "We'll make damn sure he doesn't."

  Tascoe straightened, and for a moment Julia could see the man he must have been years ago. The cop he must have been, she thought, taking in the grim determination in his stance, the implacable set of his mouth. The meaty hand was holding a gun, and she hadn't even seen him reach for it.

  "You watch your back too, Chie—" The big ex-cop met Cord's resigned gaze. "Hunter," he corrected himself softly. He clapped him on the shoulder. "Watch your back, Hunter, and we'll take care of this end of things."

  "I should be the one entering the house." Julia put her hand on Cord's arm urgently. "I'm lighter than you, and I—"

  "I've gone in and out of that window a hundred times in the past," he said flatly. "Plus I know every damn creaking floorboard on the way down to the kitchen. I'm going and that's final." His glittering black gaze met her stubborn hazel one, and his expression lost some of its hardness. "You've known me all your life, Julia. You didn't really think I'd agree, did you?"

  "No. Because you were the only one I could never win an argument against," she whispered heatedly. "But we're going to be right there, Cord, and if anything even looks like it's about to happen, I'm going in."

  "Agreed." He cupped her chin lightly. "Stubborn as hell. That's one of the things I loved you for all these years, honey."

  A corner of his mouth lifted in a grin that seemed almost regretful, and then be turned and melted into the shadows, heading toward the back of the house.

  "Ain't love grand," Tascoe sighed theatrically beside her. "You two have been all over each other for as long as I've known you. Why haven't you gotten hitched yet?"

  "That's none of your business," Julia retorted, flicking him a look of pure dislike, her earlier and more positive appraisal of the man vanishing. "Come on, it's time we got into position," she snapped, expecting him to balk at her peremptory tone.

  But he didn't. Despite the man's problems with authority—especially female authority, she thought dryly—he was enough of a professional to put his personal feelings aside and creep silently to the house with her. Maybe she could learn something from Dean Tascoe, she told herself brutally.

  Underlying her fears for Lizbet, her shock and sorrow at finding King and the adrenaline-induced edginess she was feeling, was a dull, numbing pain. He'd decided to leave her. This time it would be no use telling herself that if she turned around quickly enough she would find him standing there, waiting for her. This time he wouldn't be back, and she couldn't blame him. But maybe she could change his mind.

  "We can't afford any mistakes, Tascoe," she said in an undertone. "None—do you understand? We're going to get that little girl out, and this whole operation is going to go down perfectly, get it?"

  They were only feet from the kitchen window, and he shrugged. "Perfect only happens in the movies. A million things could go wrong, but as long as we—"

  "No!" She grabbed the front of his windbreaker. "I can't afford to fail her! She's coming out, Cord's coming out, and if I have to take Donner down by myself that's the way it's going to happen! You better get that straight right now, Tascoe."

  "I guess I do understand," he said slowly. His big hand gently pried her fingers loose from his windbreaker, but for a moment he held them, his eyes for once losing their mocking blue glint. "You need to prove something—to yourself or him or the world, I don't know. But I know what failure's like, and I know what it's like to want to erase it. Yeah, the kid's coming out safe, Hunter's coming out safe, and we'll take Donner down, Stewart." He grinned suddenly, the blue eyes hardening again. "Or freakin' die tryin', right?"

  There'd been a reason men like Dow and Hendrix had put their careers on the line for this uncouth, out-of-shape loose cannon, Julia thought unwillingly. Whether his badge had been taken away from him or not, he would never stop being a cop. It was all he knew.

  "Or die trying, Tascoe." She flashed him a quick smile, suddenly glad that he was there with her. "Can you see what's happening inside?"

  The window was high enough off the ground that he had to boost himself up a few inches to look in. When he dropped to the ground he was frowning. "He's still just sitting there, but now he's got the kid. Even if Hunter surprises him, he won't be able to risk taking a shot at the bastard."

  "He knows someone's here. He's using Lizbet as a shield and as soon as Cord shows himself Donner'll gun him down, knowing he won't risk harming her," Julia said harshly. "The man's like a feral dog—he can smell danger. What are we going to do?"

  "We can't just stand here and watch your boyfriend get killed, that's for sure," Tascoe said with grim determination. "We've got to get
that son of a bitch out into the open. Cover me, partner."

  Even as he finished speaking he was walling boldly around to the front of the house, making no attempt to stay quiet, and the next moment, to Julia's shock, he was shouting at the top of his lungs.

  "Donner, I know you're in there!" In a patch of moonlight just beyond the porch, the stocky, balding ex-cop stood his ground. "Come on out so I can send you to hell, you murdering scum!"

  Almost immediately, and as coolly as if he was coming out for a breath of fresh air before turning in for the night, Donner pushed open the screen door and walked onto the porch. He was dressed in his usual casual manner, but there was a jagged rip in the knee of his jeans.

  And he was holding a sleeping or unconscious Lizbet, Julia saw with cold horror. The tiny, heart-shaped face, white in the moonlight, was nestled into his shoulder. In his other hand was a gun.

  "Dean Tascoe," the light, pleasant voice said. "Shouldn't you be sitting on a bar stool somewhere, drowning your sorrows? I hear you've recently suffered a bereavement."

  "That's why I'm here, Donner." Tascoe glared at the other man. "I know you killed Jackie. Put the kid down and face me like a man."

  Julia crept silently to the side of the porch. Donner was only about four feet away from her, but he might as well have been in the next county, she thought despairingly. There was no way she could vault onto the porch, over the wooden railing and snatch Lizbet from him before he knew what was happening. But surely at any moment Cord would come through the door behind him—

  "This isn't going to work out quite the way you planned it, Tascoe." There was real amusement in his voice. "I would have tried to get in by that upstairs window, so I figured Hunter would choose that way to enter—but as soon as he got over the sill the leghold trap I set there earlier would have slammed shut on him. It'll take two strong men and a pry bar to open it, I'm told, and even at that his hone has to have been broken."

  Julia bent over in the concealing shrubbery, willing the bile that had risen to her throat to subside but unable to free herself of the horrific image his words had conjured up. She'd seen leghold traps—in the garden shed at the lake house an old one had hung on the wall, rusty and disused for years. Cord's father had found it in the woods behind the house and had removed it grimly, but even dismantled and harmless, the cruel steel teeth had looked like the instruments of torture they were.

  Cord was upstairs right now, his leg crushed between one of those evil things, she thought He wouldn't be able to release himself—Donner was right about that, it was impossible for one man to force open those cruel jaws. Even if Cord managed to pry it open slightly, the chances of it springing back and breaking his leg a second time were high.

  It was down to her and Tascoe—two ex-cops, two ex-alcoholics, two failures.

  "Two ex-failures," she whispered to herself slowly. "Two ex-failures who've come to the end of the line."

  "Like I said—not quite the way you planned it, Tascoe," Donner continued. "You weren't part of my plan, either, but I'm willing to improvise. Throw your guns down on the ground—both of them." Again he chuckled, low and amused. "I know you always carry that little barroom equalizer on your ankle. I make it a habit to research my enemies."

  "I don't think so, Donner." Tascoe shook his head. "I'm not fool enough to go up against you unarmed."

  "I think you are." Donner shifted slightly, and Julia bit down on her lip to keep from crying out as she saw the muzzle of his gun brush lightly against the strawberry-blond head nestled on his shoulder. "It's you or the child, Tascoe. What's it going to be?"

  But already Dean Tascoe was bending to his ankle. With a grunt he straightened, and the next moment both his weapons went sailing through the bright moonlight, landing by the porch.

  "Now I'll face you like a man, Tascoe. And in a minute I'll watch you die like a dog," Donner said, and this time when he spoke Julia knew she was hearing the man behind the pleasantly bland mask that he usually wore.

  She froze as Donner half turned, but he didn't even look in the direction of the shrubbery that concealed her. Instead he put Lizbet gently down in one of the wicker porch chairs. It creaked slightly as the little girl stirred and then curled up in its cushions.

  She had to be drugged, Julia thought Aside from everything else, the child had to see a doctor as soon as possible, to make sure that whatever Donner had given her would wear off safely. If she was ever going to get the child away from him, now was the time.

  "Now, Julia—get her out of here!"

  With a roar of rage, Tascoe rushed Donner as he descended the last step from the porch, taking the other man by surprise. Had he had a chance to grab one of his guns? Julia wondered, but even as the thought was racing through her mind she'd sprung into action, leaping lightly over the porch railing and scooping up the tiny figure of the sleeping child.

  Swinging her leg over the railing, Lizbet held tightly in her arms, Julia started in alarm as she heard the first shot, then the second and the third. Jerking her glance to the two struggling figures on the lawn in front of the house, she saw Dean Tascoe—ex-cop, ex-alcoholic, ex-failure—slam backward from the force of the bullets ripping into him.

  "Still two to go," Gary Donner said, swinging his smiling gaze around to Julia as if he'd never had any doubt she was there.

  The next moment another shot rang out, even as the echoes from the previous ones were still dying away, and his free hand went immediately to his shoulder as his gun fell from his grip.

  "You!" he said disbelievingly.

  "Get Lizbet to the car and get out of here, honey," rasped Cord. He was in the doorway, and looking down Julia saw that he was standing in a pool of blood. He was clutching the door frame, his features contorted in pain.

  "Get her out of here—now!" he said again, the words coming from him with an effort Julia gave him one last agonized look and dropped to the ground running.

  The little girl weighed next to nothing, but by the time they reached the car Julia's heart was pounding. How long could Cord hold out? she wondered frantically, placing the unconscious child next to her and buckling the seat belt around the tiny body with shaking fingers. She turned the keys in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life, but from the direction of the house came another, more ominous sound.

  She'd heard a shot. There were two possibilities, she told herself light-headedly—either Donner had grabbed his gun or Cord had prevented him by taking him down. But she couldn't count on the latter, and she couldn't dwell on the paralyzing horror of the former.

  She had to get Lizbet to safety—and she had to get backup for Cord. The nearest town was Mason's Corners, and if she could only reach it and get to a phone in time—

  "I've got to," she muttered grimly under her breath as the Ford bucked over a rise in the laneway and came down hard. "Or die trying."

  Dean Tascoe was dead. There was no way he had survived that fusillade of bullets, she thought with sharp sorrow as the lane rushed by on either side of her, branches from the over—grown trees and bushes snapping wildly against the sides of the car. The turnoff onto the main road came up too fast, and she hit the brakes, wrenching the steering wheel hard and not breathing again until the Ford stopped fishtailing and she regained control.

  Tascoe had died a cop. It was all he'd ever wanted, and in the end he'd gotten his honor back. He'd deliberately thrown his life away to buy her a few moments of precious time, and it was up to her not to let him have died in vain—and to make sure that Cord's agonizing ordeal hadn't been for nothing. Her foot pressed down on the accelerator, and she kept her gaze on the road ahead, but all she could see was those dark eyes, clouded with pain, and the spreading pool of blood from his shattered leg.

  No ordinary man could have done it. But Cord Hunter wasn't an ordinary man, and that was where Donner had miscalculated. Everything else had gone according to his plan—Tascoe's impression that the man had been waiting for something was half right, Julia told herself. Ga
ry Donner had been waiting for someone—he'd known Cord would have been alerted by the police that he'd shaken off the men tailing him, and he'd known the first place they'd look for him would be where Lizbet was.

  He'd second-guessed them all along, she thought with a spurt of fear. He'd known exactly how they'd react, and he'd been in control right from the start.

  Was it possible he'd anticipated her fleeing with Lizbet, too?

  She was letting her imagination run away with her, she told herself angrily. The man might act like evil incarnate, but he didn't have supernatural powers. He'd made a few lucky guesses, that was all, and besides, she was only about five miles away from civilization and safety—if she remembered correctly, the turnoff to town would be coming up in a few minutes—

  The steering wheel was wrenched from her hands, and then she was losing control, the Ford skidding sideways in a sickening slide across the unstable graveled surface of the road.

  She'd been rammed! Julia thought in shock as she desperately fought to get the car stabilized. Someone had shot out of that last half-hidden laneway and rammed the back end of her car!

  Then she stopped thinking and threw herself across the little girl on the seat beside her as the Ford's back tire blew and she felt the car starting to roll completely over.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  «^»

  "She's conscious. She even had some crushed ice a while ago."

  Julia didn't know who Cord was talking to. She didn't care who he was talking to, and she didn't want him there, either, but telling him to go away would take more energy than she was capable of.

  She just wanted to be left alone. If she didn't say anything, sooner or later everyone would go away.

  Maybe that's how Lizbet had felt, she thought dully. Maybe the little girl had just wanted to be left alone all by herself, but instead she'd been dragged into more danger.

  Donner had her. Donner would never be caught now. "Yeah, the leg's fractured in two places, but with the cast and the crutches I can get around well enough." Cord was speaking again, in an undertone. Julia wondered briefly if it was Lopez he was addressing. "I blame myself. I should have known he would have had it all planned out."