Double Vision

by Fiona Brand

  “I heard him and Dad talking. Don’t look so surprised. Just because it looks like I’m not listening, it doesn’t mean I’m not…They thought I was listening to my Walkman…You want to hear?”

  Esther braked for an intersection. “Hear what?”

  “The tape. I told you, I wasn’t listening to music, I was taping.”

  Fingers shaking slightly, she slipped the cassette she had been searching for in Winton in with the cash. Like the bank records, the tape was evidence. The conversation she had recorded couldn’t help Cesar now, but it would prove that he had been set up and coerced.

  Light glittered off something in one corner of the box. Rina picked up what she had at first thought was an earring. Beneath the harsh, white lights of the vault, the pink diamond ring flashed with a soft fire. Her chest swelled. If there was one piece of jewelry she associated with Esther more than any other, it was this ring. Esther had worn it more often than any other piece of jewelry other than her wedding and engagement rings. She had no idea what it was worth, but for Rina its value lay in the message of the ring. Pushed to the edge, Esther hadn’t had time for notes or goodbyes. Determined to defeat Alex, attempting to save Cesar, she had done what she could. She had left the ring, a gift from mother to daughter.

  Locking the now-empty box, Rina gathered up the papers, the envelope and the ring and exited the vault. A short phone call later by the security guard and Melinda escorted her back to the interview room.

  “Would you like an envelope for those things?”

  “For the papers, yes.”

  Opening a drawer, Melinda produced a large manila envelope. Rina slipped the stack of papers inside, scribbled a note to Marc Bayard and addressed the envelope. Maybe she was overreacting, but she didn’t want to hold on to the papers any longer than she had to, in case something went wrong. Esther had literally risked her life to obtain this information. She would mail the documents off to Bayard as soon as she left the bank.

  “Would you like an envelope for the ring?”

  Rina stared at the pink diamond, her chest knotting. “No. Thank you. I’ll wear it.”

  After posting the envelope, she caught a cab to the prestigious Pacific Heights district and stepped out onto a street that featured an array of designer boutiques. St. Marie Interiors occupied an impressive amount of ground-floor real estate. After negotiating acres of elegant furniture and fabrics, she found a retail assistant, introduced herself as Rina Morell and requested a consultation.

  Within seconds, Hebert St. Marie himself was on the floor and directing her into a large, lushly appointed office. Rina sat down on one of the comfortably padded brocaded chairs positioned around a gleaming rosewood coffee table. St. Marie’s gaze settled on the pink diamond. The fact that she had to lie didn’t sit easily with her, but in the small hours of the morning, she had come to the conclusion that she had no option. She swung into action, her delivery as smooth as she could make it given that her nerves were strung so tight that if she hadn’t folded her hands together they would be visibly shaking. She dropped Cesar’s name, with a delicate mention of his estate being finalized, capped off by the information that she had just bought a beachfront property near Eureka. “A rather large house, actually.”

  St. Marie murmured condolences about her loss, his expression fascinated as his gaze slid back to the ring. He had read the newspapers; he knew the scandal; he could smell the money. “I take it the house needs some work.”

  “It’s modern.” She named the architectural firm who had designed Radcliff’s house. “It needs redecorating. I never did like all that steel and glass.”

  St. Marie’s assistant entered the room with a tray of coffee. While the coffee was poured and the tiny white cups handed out, she mentioned that she had seen Radcliff’s house, leaving out the detail that it had only been in a magazine article. Calmly, she stated that she was very interested in seeing the complete design layout that St. Marie had done.

  St. Marie set his cup down, his inner struggle brief. Rina was Cesar’s heir. He knew an investigation was in progress, but money was money. If Rina inherited even a fraction of Cesar’s assets, she would be one of the richest women in the country. “It’s not normally done, but in your case, since you’ve already seen Senator Radcliff’s house…”

  He stepped out of the room. Moments later, he came back with a portfolio and began spreading the sheets detailing the design of each room. He didn’t pull out the final sheet, which was a blueprint of the plans for the house, but Rina only needed a glimpse to imprint the layout of the rooms and read the address on the bottom of the page.

  Twenty-Nine

  Rina reached Eureka just after three in the afternoon.

  She had picked up a rental in San Francisco. Even though she had paid cash, she was aware that her ID would be traced, although not as quickly as it would have been if she had used a card. She was counting on the few hours it might take for the ID to be picked up to give her enough time to get up the coast and get the car off the road before the highway patrol started looking for the plate.

  Once she had checked into a motel and the car was parked out of sight, she let out a sigh of relief. She was hot and sweaty, and the drive north had been nerve-racking. Every time she had seen a patrol car or a motorcycle cop, she had expected to be pulled over. It hadn’t happened, but the constant anticipation had wrung her out. At least now, for the few hours it took until it got dark enough for her to leave for Radcliff’s house, she had the security of knowing the car wouldn’t be spotted.

  After eating a sandwich she’d bought earlier, she showered, changed into dark jeans and a sweater, then sat, studying a road map of the area, keeping an eye on the news programs on television and periodically dozing beneath the cool draft of a fan.

  When she was ready, she repacked the car, locked the unit and left the key underneath a nearby pot plant. It was possible she would spend the night in the motel, but not likely, so she wasn’t about to leave any belongings there. When she straightened, the conviction that she was being watched made her tense.

  Careful not to betray that she was aware of anything out of the ordinary, she strolled toward her rental, fingers sliding into her purse to retrieve the key in case she had to make a run for the car.

  A faint movement caught her eye. A Doberman, its slanted eyes intent as it tracked her progress, was leashed in an enclosure adjacent to the parking area. She let out a breath. The dog obviously belonged to the owner of the motel and was trained to guard the premises. She didn’t know what she had done to set him on edge, although maybe it had been as simple as her own tension.

  The sun set beneath a heavy mantle of cloud as she turned north onto Highway 101, leaving the evening cooler. She flicked her headlights on. The beams cut through the gloom. With the absence of the moon, or even starlight, the night would be darker than usual.

  Twenty-five minutes later, she turned onto a steep coastal road rimmed by precipitous cliffs and dotted with expensive properties. Radcliff’s house was situated in a cul-de-sac at the end of the road. According to her map, the cul-de-sac occupied one of the highest points in the area.

  As she cruised up the steep gradient, she studied house numbers. There weren’t many, because the properties were large and mostly spaced out. Her stomach sank as she located Radcliff’s house, which was protected by a high masonry wall and a wrought-iron gate.

  Radcliff’s beach hideaway might be out in the country, but no expense had been spared on security. She would put money on video surveillance, with the possibility of sophisticated infrared and laser systems. Finding a place to call Bayard and plant the phone wasn’t promising. The street frontage was bare and garishly lit; the area around the gate was devoid of any ornamentation. If she put the phone down on the sidewalk anywhere in the lit areas, it was possible surveillance cameras would pick it up.

  Briefly, she considered throwing the phone over the fence, then dismissed the idea. If the phone didn’t get damaged or acci
dentally switched off on landing, the chances were strong that the movement would be picked up on camera and the phone located almost immediately.

  In contrast to the sterile sidewalk, the house itself was almost completely obscured by tall trees. She glanced over her shoulder at the property she had passed just before Radcliff’s. The house was visible behind its masonry wall, but instead of wrought iron, the gate was solid timber. Planting the phone there would be just as risky.

  Headlights glowed behind her. She slowed, allowing a low-slung Porsche to sweep past. At this time of night she had to expect some traffic. It was late, but anyone living here and commuting to either Winton or Eureka would get home about this time.

  The masonry wall turned into a wrought-iron fence as she turned a corner, and the garish street lighting was dimmed, blocked by overhanging trees. She caught the glow of taillights as the Porsche disappeared between open gates. She glanced at a plaque inset into one of the masonry gateposts. The name etched into the bronze was clearly visible. Eady.

  Heart pounding, she cruised past the gates. The car parked outside the garage was Diane Eady’s.

  She had always known Diane had a beach house, although she hadn’t ever known exactly where it was. Now she knew.

  If she had doubted it before, she didn’t any longer. She was in the right place.

  Diane Eady closed her front door and walked through to the kitchen, flicking lights as she went. She reached for the phone and dialed. “I just saw a woman in a dark gray rental driving past your house. I’m almost certain it was Rina.”

  “It’s okay.” Slater’s voice was smooth. “We’ve had her under surveillance since she turned onto Cliff Road.”

  Diane didn’t try to keep the acid out of her voice. “That’s a relief.”

  “Did you shut your gate?”

  Diane’s gaze narrowed at the curt tone. Lately Slater had become increasingly arrogant. She walked through to the front door and checked. In her hurry to get to the phone, she had left it open. “I’ll close it now.”

  “Leave it open.”

  Rina drove as far as the beach lookout, turned around, then drove back the way she’d come, pulling over to park just short of Diane Eady’s house. Every instinct she had told her she should leave while she still could. If Diane lived next door to Radcliff it was possible—no, probable—that other houses were also occupied by Alex’s people.

  She stared at the glowing windows of the houses lining either side of the road. They were all nestled together, isolated from the string of beach cottages and the small village farther along the beach. Maybe she was being overly paranoid, but, given that Alex was the head of a Colombian drug cartel, she couldn’t ignore the possibility that the entire enclave was a cartel fortress situated on United States soil.

  In which case, time was a luxury she didn’t have. Each house had its own security system and it was also possible the road in and out was monitored. But if that were the case, a security guard should already have checked her out, and she hadn’t seen anyone who looked remotely official.

  Diane’s gate was still open.

  Adrenaline surged. All she had to do was make the call and tuck the phone out of sight. There were enough shrubs and trees on the front lawn that she wouldn’t have to walk more than a few paces onto the property.

  Grabbing her handbag, she extracted her cell phone, then locked the car and walked briskly toward the open gate, hugging the deepest shadows.

  Headlights swept the road. Heart pounding, she pressed into a clump of shrubs as the car cruised past and disappeared around the bend, heading for the lookout. Long seconds passed while she waited to see if the vehicle would turn around and cruise back past her. When it didn’t, she short-dialed Bayard’s number, stepped out of the shadows and walked into Diane Eady’s driveway. Slipping behind a thick hydrangea, she crouched down and waited for the call to be picked up. If Bayard didn’t answer, she would go to plan B and ring JT. If he could track her using military satellites, he shouldn’t have any problem locating the signal from her phone.

  The phone continued to ring, the sound amplified in the silence of the garden.

  “Stand up slowly, disconnect the call and hand the phone to me.”

  Slater.

  Rina straightened and handed over the phone just as Bayard picked up. Slater terminated the call and slipped the phone in his pocket.

  A flickering movement drew her gaze.

  Slater smiled. “That won’t help. I’ve got two men either side of the gate.”

  A cold click changed the expression on Slater’s face. A dark shape separated itself from the trunk of a tree. The glare from a streetlamp caught the distinctive line of JT’s profile. “Past tense, Slater. You had two men. Drop the gun, then kick it onto the drive.”

  For long seconds Slater didn’t move. JT moved a step closer, the handgun now fully visible. Like the night he’d gotten her out of Winton, he was dressed in dark clothing. He was also wearing a lip mike and body armor, which meant he had come prepared with backup. Slater’s mouth twisted when he registered those details. With slow movements, he complied.

  A red dot appeared on JT’s chest.

  Rina stared at the dot. “JT—”

  Diane Eady stepped out from behind a shrub edging her driveway, with what looked like an assault rifle cradled at her shoulder.

  JT didn’t shift his weapon from Slater. “Eady. This gets better and better.”

  A split second later, two shadowy forms materialized on either side of the gate. The crack of gunfire split the air. The red dot jerked upward. Time seemed to slow, stop, as Rina dived to one side.

  She was aware of movement, a blur as Slater lunged, further shots as two weapons were fired simultaneously. Slater made a high-pitched sound. The place that Diane had been standing was empty. She realized Diane was lying sprawled on the ground. The first shot had taken her out.

  A split second later JT was crouched beside her. “Are you all right?”

  She pushed to her knees. Her palms were stinging and her hands were shaking again. Maybe in a year, living in a very small, quiet, isolated town where she had nothing more dangerous to do than paint, she would be all right. “I’m fine.”

  One of the dark shadows flowed past and crouched next to Diane. “She’s dead.”

  Slater, who was lying on the ground curled in a fetal position clutching his shoulder, groaned. The second shadow was holding a gun on him.

  “Stay down.” JT searched Slater. He pulled a handgun from an ankle holster, ejected the magazine and slipped it into his pocket. He did the same with the first weapon he had taken off Slater, then threw both handguns into a thick clump of shrubs.

  Motioning her to her feet, he kept her behind him as he checked out the driveway. Gun in one hand, his free hand at the back of her neck, keeping her low, they ran for the cover of the gate. One of the men who had covered JT ghosted along behind them as they moved down the street.

  Rina’s car was where she’d left it. Parked directly behind it was the car she had seen drive past earlier.

  JT pulled a set of keys from his pocket and deactivated the locks on the second car. His gaze caught hers. She realized that as unruffled as he seemed, he wasn’t calm at all. “What were you going to do? Take on Slater and Eady on your own?”

  “I was trying to call Bayard.”

  A pulsing sound registered. Seconds later, sound and light exploded as a helicopter rose above the cliff’s edge and swept in low, spotlights sweeping the enclave as it hovered over Radcliff’s house. “That’s Bayard. When I knew where you were headed, I put the call through.”

  A second helicopter appeared. Dark figures were momentarily visible, swarming down ropes onto Radcliff’s lawn, before the helicopter disappeared from view.

  “What about Taylor?” A burst of gunfire punctuated the compressed whine of rotor blades.

  JT’s hand landed in the small of her back as he hurried her toward the car. “I told you there was someone in Wi
nton. He’s been surveilling Eady, but until she turned up in Beaumont and shot Wendell, he didn’t have anything solid enough to warrant an arrest.”

  The fact that Wendell had been killed by the therapist who had been treating her since she was a child should have shocked her, but after watching Diane climb over her back fence, her threshold for being shocked had shrunk to zero.

  Lights flicked on in the house across the street. Farther down the road a car engine revved. Gunfire erupted from Radcliff’s place.

  JT pulled open the passenger-side door. “Get in.”

  “When I’ve got my stuff.” Rina already had the rental unlocked. Leaning in, she grabbed her knapsack. Any delay was dangerous, but the knapsack contained all she had left of her old life and her family. She hadn’t carried it this far to leave it behind.

  JT took the knapsack from her and shoved it on the backseat, then climbed behind the wheel. “Fasten your seat belt.”

  She dropped her handbag on the floor, then belted herself in. After everything that had happened, the detail of fastening the belt seemed ridiculous and a little mundane, but if JT said she needed to, then she would do it. She noticed that the agent who had accompanied them was no longer on the street. At some point he had probably rejoined the agent who was holding Slater.

  Within ten seconds she understood why she needed the belt. When they reached the bottom of the hill, they ran straight into a roadblock and a second FBI SWAT team, every one of them armed with submachine guns.

  With slow, careful movements, JT flipped open his badge.

  A grim-faced agent shone his flashlight in the window, stared at their faces, then examined the badge. After checking Rina’s ID, and a brief conversation into a handheld radio, he motioned them on.

  When they had cleared the barrier of FBI and both state and county police cruisers, JT peeled off his lip mike and picked up a phone. A brief call later and he went back to driving. “Taylor’s in the clear. Bayard had her choppered out to the nearest hospital. She’s unhurt, but Lopez had her under sedation. They picked up Slater and a number of other smaller fish. Lopez either escaped or he wasn’t there.”