by Karen Rose
Faith’s heart melted. ‘That was very kind of you. He said his coat could be fixed, but it got taken as evidence and I think he’s missing it more than he lets on. I’ll try to grab the new one before Forensics takes it away. Thank you, Daphne. I know this will mean a lot to him.’
‘Ah. So you’re that kind of friend. Good. I’m very, very glad. Tell Deacon we miss him.’
‘I will.’ Faith hung up, gave Greg his phone. ‘Deacon left some good friends in Baltimore.’
A shadow passed over Greg’s face. ‘I know. He left them to come back here. For me.’
‘Because he loves you,’ Faith said softly. ‘He told me to tell you so.’
A look of pleased shock passed over his face, then he let loose a characteristically teenage roll of the eyes. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘Wish me luck,’ Faith said. ‘I’m going to try to rescue that package.’
‘Good lu—’ Greg broke off with a frown, the shouting outside becoming so loud, even he could hear it. ‘What’s happening?’ he whispered.
Damn good question. ‘I’ll find out. Sit here inside the closet.’ Where no bullets could come bursting through the window glass. ‘Promise me,’ she whispered fiercely.
Her urgency must have made an impact, because he did as she asked. Drawing a breath, Faith went into Deacon’s room and, kneeling on the bed safely to one side of the window, pulled back the shade.
And was instantly sorry she had, because she saw Agent Pope die.
Pope was lying on a stretcher, his face as white as the pillow that cradled his head. But his face and the pillow were the only things that were white. Everything else was blood red.
The loud voice belonged to Agent Colby, who stood at his partner’s side screaming at him to hold on. For Fran and the kids. And then everything went silent.
Colby stopped yelling as giant silent sobs began to shake his broad shoulders. Because Pope wasn’t breathing anymore.
The EMTs looked grim. And so damn sorry.
And then Faith realized she was crying too, a low, keening wail that she couldn’t keep in. She let go of the shade and slid down until she sat against the headboard. Burying her face in Deacon’s pillow to muffle her tears, she rocked herself as she cried.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. It didn’t matter if the stabbing hadn’t been about her. Pope wouldn’t have been out there in the first place were it not for a psychopath trying to kill me.
But managing only to pick off everyone around her.
The sound of footsteps had her simultaneously lifting her head and reaching into her purse for her gun. She blinked hard to see who was coming. An angry groan rose in her chest when she did. ‘Oh, wonderful. It’s you.’
Adam Kimble crossed Deacon’s bedroom in a few long strides, his dark eyes intense. ‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’
‘Does it really matter to you if I am? If you’re here to babysit me, fine. Just leave me alone. Greg could use your company.’ She put her gun back in her purse, brought her knees to her chest and buried her face in the pillow again.
‘Why are you crying, Dr Corcoran?’ he asked carefully.
Faith jerked her head up, glaring at him. ‘Because he’s dead,’ she shouted. ‘Pope is dead. He was guarding me and someone stabbed him and now he is dead.’ She swallowed hard, her tantrum leaving her spent. ‘Go ahead,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me it’s my fault. You know you want to. Might as well get it out of your system.’
He stood there looking at her while she counted the throbs in her now-pounding head. Finally he sighed. Shoulders sagging, he propped his fists on his hips and dropped his chin, staring down at the floor. ‘I don’t think it’s your fault, Faith.’
‘It’s mine.’ Greg edged into the room, his steps uncertain. His face as white as chalk. ‘Adam? Is it true? He’s dead? Really dead?’
Adam gave a single, sober nod. ‘Yeah. It’s true.’
Greg sank to the floor, the green paint on his clothes streaking the wall, his stare glassy-eyed. ‘What kind of knife was it, Adam?’ he asked numbly.
‘Looked like a bowie. Why?’
‘What color was the handle?’
‘Redwood. Why?’ Adam repeated, but Greg had covered his face with trembling hands. Adam crouched in front of him and pulled his hands from his face. ‘Greg?’
‘He thinks the boys at school who threatened Dani are responsible,’ Faith said, her heart breaking. She still didn’t know what Greg had done, but she realized the repercussions of it could very possibly have left a man dead.
‘This was what got you suspended?’ Kimble demanded, letting out a harsh breath when Greg only nodded. Kimble looked up at Faith. ‘Do they know this outside?’
‘I told Deacon. He said he’d tell them, but he was in an interview when I called.’ She rubbed her aching forehead. ‘This day completely and utterly sucks.’
‘I can agree with that,’ Kimble said, abruptly rising to put his hand out to stop her when she started to leave the room. ‘Whoa. Where are you going?’
‘There’s a FedEx box on the living room floor that belongs to Deacon.’ She could do nothing to help Pope or his family, but she’d be damned if she let the Feds take Deacon’s coat. ‘I was going to grab what’s inside before the Feds take custody of it.’
Kimble stared at her. ‘You’re going to tamper with evidence?’
She bared her teeth. ‘It’s not evidence. It’s a gift from one of Deacon’s Baltimore friends that had the bad luck to be delivered now. Dial the last number in Greg’s call log and talk to her yourself. She sent him a replacement coat, for God’s sake.’
Adam’s expression was grim. ‘Stay here. I’ll talk to whoever’s in command out there and see what I can do about the coat.’ He laid a hand on Greg’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘I need details. Names, addresses. How you knew about the knife. What happened to make them willing to kill.’ He looked over at Faith again. ‘I’m taking the two of you away from here, so pack what you need for a few days.’
Faith’s mouth fell open. ‘What?’
‘This safe house isn’t safe anymore. You need to move. And hurry up, if you would. I have to take you to the hospital first. Arianna’s awake and asking to talk to you.’
Feeling as numb as Greg looked, Faith watched Kimble disappear down the stairs. Move. And quickly. For Arianna. And, please God, for Corinne and the little girl, too.
‘Greg, you need to change your clothes.’ She hardened her voice. ‘Come on. Move it.’
He didn’t move. Just stayed there, forearms resting on bent knees. Staring straight ahead.
Muttering curses at the universe in general, Faith opened and shut the drawers in Deacon’s dresser until she found his stash of sweats and dumped the entire contents of the drawer on the bed. ‘Here’s a set. Go into the bathroom and change. Leave the paint-covered clothes in the tub. We’ll deal with them later.’ When Greg didn’t move, she went over and grabbed his hand, trying to yank him to his feet. ‘Greg, you have to move. We have things to do. Go, change.’ He slowly came to his feet, took the clothes she offered, and trudged into the master bathroom, his head down.
The slamming of the front door caught her by surprise. It sounded like it had been thrown open. Seconds later, Agent Colby barreled up the stairs and into Deacon’s bedroom.
‘Where is he?’ Colby asked quietly.
‘Who?’ Faith asked, genuinely confused.
Colby leaned down until he was completely in her space, and she felt the old panic return. ‘Greg. The kid. Deacon Novak’s brother.’ He spat the words into her face.
What the fuck? She moved to block Colby’s path. ‘Why?’
He put both beefy hands on her shoulders and shoved her aside. Faith backed up and blocked his path again, palms out like a traffic cop. ‘Agent Colby. Stop.’
He moved around her, advancing toward the bathroom. Faith ran to the bathroom door, putting her body in front of it. ‘What are you doing, Agent Colby?’
‘He played games at scho
ol,’ Colby said, his fury audible now. ‘Hacked into teachers’ emails and made them think some kid had AIDS. Did you know that?’ He didn’t stop for her reply, just dragged her away from the door.
She shoved him hard enough to send him back a step. ‘What is wrong with you?’ she cried. ‘Greg, lock the door. Do not come out.’ But the lock didn’t turn and Faith’s stomach twisted. Fine time to take out your hearing aids, kid. ‘Kimble!’ she shouted. ‘Help me!’
‘He’ll come out,’ Colby gritted, his breath hot on her face, ‘and he will see what he has done. Kids play on the computer and think they’re God.’ He reached around her and rattled the doorknob. ‘Come out, you little prick. Come outside and see what you’ve done.’
‘I’m coming, Faith,’ Greg said impatiently through the door. ‘For God’s sake.’
He couldn’t hear their voices. He thinks I’m rushing him to hurry. ‘Kimble! Help!’
The door opened behind her and she heard Greg’s gasp. Colby reached over her shoulder and took a handful of the boy’s sweatshirt and dragged him forward.
‘Kimble!’ shouted Faith, wedging herself between Colby and Greg. ‘Agent Colby, you’re upset. You’re grieving. Do not do this. Do not throw your career away.’ She gave another shove, one hand on each of them. Greg managed to wrench himself from Colby’s grip and slam the bathroom door, locking himself inside.
Leaving Faith to face the enraged Colby alone. Oh God. Wild-eyed with grief, he grabbed her blouse, viciously hauling her to her toes.
‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ he hissed. ‘My partner is dead. And it’s that kid’s fault. And yours.’ He gave her a shake that rattled her to her bones. ‘We were stuck here protecting you.’
‘When I brought this all on myself?’ she asked with a calm she didn’t feel. ‘Is that what you want to say?’
‘No.’ His eyes filled with tears. ‘But he was my partner. My friend. Now he’s dead. He didn’t deserve this.’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘He didn’t. I’m sorry.’ Tentatively she reached up, cupped his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Colby shuddered, the tears falling unchecked. ‘They gutted him like an animal,’ he whispered. ‘Like a goddamned animal.’
Faith left one hand on his face and with the other gently covered the fist gripping her blouse. ‘Agent Colby, you’re hurting me,’ she said softly, pressing on his fist firmly. ‘I don’t think you want to do that. I don’t think you’re that kind of man.’ The wild fury that filled his eyes began to dissipate, misery taking its place. Misery, horror, and shame.
He released her blouse and she eased down until her feet were flat on the floor again. ‘Thank you, Agent Colby.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he rasped. ‘Oh my God. I’m sorry. I . . . I’m sorry.’
She wasn’t going to say it was okay, because it wasn’t. ‘I’m not hurt,’ she said, keeping her voice non-combative. ‘You’re not hurt. Let’s leave this room.’ She took his arm and turned him toward the bedroom door, just as Kimble ran through it.
‘Tend to Greg,’ she told Kimble. ‘I’m going to make Agent Colby some tea.’
By the time she got him down into the living room, Colby was trembling. He closed his eyes as they passed the FedEx man, still sitting on the floor, but no longer in handcuffs.
Kimble must have freed him. On my say-so, Faith thought. I guess we’re making progress.
She guided Colby into the kitchen and up on to one of the bar stools. He buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking silently as Faith put the kettle on the stove and prepared his tea.
Kimble brought Greg through the kitchen on his way to the garage. Greg wouldn’t meet her eyes as he passed, embarrassed now that it was all over.
Kimble, on the other hand, stopped and held her gaze for a long moment. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured fiercely. ‘I got a few of your things. We need to go. Now.’
He had her laptop bag on his shoulder and carried the overnight case she’d left in Deacon’s bathroom. The sight of a big, brooding man carrying a Hello Kitty overnight case might have made her smile under any other circumstances.
‘Colby’s boss is outside. He’ll take over,’ Kimble said. ‘I just got a call from Meredith Fallon wondering where the hell we are. I explained, but we need to go now. Arianna’s already dropped off to sleep once. She’s refusing pain meds until you get there so she can stay awake.’
Spent, Faith followed him to the car and climbed down on to the floor next to Greg, who still wouldn’t look at her. ‘I might sleep on the way to the hospital,’ she said as Kimble pulled out of the garage. ‘So don’t worry about me if I don’t sit up when the coast is clear.’
‘I’d say you’d earned a nap, Dr Corcoran,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll wake you when we get there.’
Exhaustion pulled at her, but she fought it a moment longer. ‘Did you get Deacon’s coat?’
‘Yes, I did.’
Relief. ‘How?’
A chuckle. ‘I signed for it when I uncuffed the FedEx guy. It’s in the trunk.’
‘Won’t you get into trouble?’
‘Probably. I’ll open the box in Tanaka’s lab, just in case it’s a decoy package. But I owe Deacon. If I get into trouble, I’ll just be paying my debt.’
Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 11.15 P.M.
I blew it, he thought in disgust. From the upstairs window of the house three streets away, he watched the sedan pull out of Novak’s garage and just knew Faith was in it. They’re removing her. Taking her to a new safe house.
Gutting the FBI agent had seemed like a good idea at the time, but this was what happened when he acted impulsively. If he’d just been patient, he could have drawn her outside by killing the boy when he opened the door to the FedEx man.
But he’d become impatient from too many hours of waiting for Faith to leave the house. When he’d seen the high-school punk approaching the house holding a big-ass bowie knife, he thought he could make something happen.
Of course, a high-school punk with a big-ass knife had been a wild card on which he hadn’t planned, an extra player over whom he had no control. So he’d taken the kid out of the picture. Luring the boy away before the patrolling Fed saw him had been the dicey part.
Killing the punk had been a piece of cake. Sneaking up on the Fed had been only a little challenging. He’d been watching the two men patrol and knew their patterns.
At least killing the Fed had been satisfying. And now he had a new gun. He could throw that old nine mil into the river.
But that was the only good that had come of the whole thing, because the ploy hadn’t worked. He’d been so certain that Faith would run outside to help a wounded FBI agent, but she was actually following instructions and staying indoors, the bitch. Now the place was crawling with FBI and CPD and Faith was being taken elsewhere.
This house was now useless as an observation point. He’d killed the old man who lived here for nothing. At least they wouldn’t find his body anytime soon, or the body of Greg’s classmate for that matter, the two of them stashed in the big freezer in the basement that the old guy had used to keep venison.
Luckily for him, it wasn’t deer season yet and the guy had eaten nearly all of last year’s hunt. There was plenty of room for both the homeowner and the kid who’d been stupid enough to bring a blade to Novak’s house.
Unfortunately, his own plan had backfired as abysmally as the punk’s had, with Faith slipping out of his hands once again. On the bright side, the cops would be chasing their tails for a while, trying to figure out who’d killed the Fed.
Giving me time to draw Faith out of wherever they’re taking her next.
He’d have to come up with a different approach. She wasn’t risking her own hide for random strangers, but if he had the right lure, he could still force her to come to him. The kid would make good bait. Or Novak’s sister.
Or Corinne Longstreet. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He’d kept Corinne alive for his own enjoyment, bu
t she might be more useful as the one carrot Faith would respond to. The one death she’d trade herself to avoid.
So go back to the cabin and collect Corinne. He could drive out there and be back in four hours. He took a step away from the window, alarmed when he stumbled. Shit. How long since he’d slept more than an hour at a time?
He’d been going strong for days, but he had to face facts. His body would give out soon. He could handle driving the interstates if he drank a strong cup of coffee, but those twisting roads through the woods to the cabin were treacherous in the dark.
Getting caught by the cops because he’d wrapped his car around a tree was not going to happen. Although the irony would be almost too delicious.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 11.15 P.M.
‘Hell, hell, hell,’ Deacon muttered as he ended what he prayed would be his last call. He’d been on the phone since they’d left Indian Hill, Bishop at the wheel, her hands tightening on it with every new piece of bad news they’d had, starting with the shock of hearing that Agent Pope was dead.
Deacon still couldn’t believe it. The man – an experienced federal agent – had been killed. Outside of my house. Only yards away from Greg and Faith.
‘The second-to-last call was from Adam. He’s just getting Faith to the hospital to see Arianna. He wants you to be there if we can get there in time. Just in case Arianna will give a statement. He thought she might be more comfortable with you.’
‘What else did he say? What was that about Colby? He lost it?’
‘Completely. He tried to grab Greg and drag him outside to see Pope’s body – to show him the consequences of his prank.’
‘He tried to drag your brother out of a safe house?’
‘He wasn’t thinking of it as a safe house at that point, I guess. I didn’t realize he was so unstable when I called him about Greg and the school. I thought he’d redirect resources to look for the kid who’d threatened Dani. I never thought he’d go after Greg.’