by JP Ratto
Chapter 30
Tom Keeler waited in the moonlit shadows of the thick maple. He hadn’t given the cab any attention until he realized it was coming down the block for a second time. The car passed and pulled over further down the street to let out its passenger.
Keeping the tree between him and the new arrival, he had watched as a tall, well-built man exited and walked to the back of the house. Keeler stepped back into the shadows.
He had found an old newspaper image of the former police detective. Although it was hard to see physical details in the dark, his first instinct told him the man was Lucas Holt. He had no problem shooting every person who fit that description as long as he eventually killed the right one. He smiled. Kill them all and let God sort it out.
Keeler chuckled at the absurd thought. After the first shot, the entire neighborhood would be on alert. No, he had to wait until the right well-built person came to the Turners’ front door.
Ten minutes passed when he noticed a change in the shadows around the Turners’ house. Something—or someone crouched and moved toward the small ranch. In that moment, he knew why the cab had circled the block twice, why the stranger went to the back of that house. Lucas Holt spotted my car and decided to approach the Turners’ from a neighbor’s backyard.
Keeler opened the Buick’s back door, placed the sniper rifle on the floor, and covered it with a tarp. He checked the ammo in his pistol, installed a silencer, and unlatched the safety. Guess it’ll be upfront and personal after all.
He watched Holt cross the side yard and blend into the darkness surrounding the Turner house. Keeler didn’t like the idea of conducting his business in the midst of these homes. He couldn’t control the situation and events could develop to his disadvantage. It would be better to throw him in the car, take him to a quiet wooded area, and do it there.
***
Sensing more and more Cain might be pulling a fast one, I focused on what to do about Keeler. He wasn’t in his car, so that left two possibilities: He hid in one of the darkened rooms, or he was on the prowl, waiting for an opportunity to capture or snipe me. I thought the second scenario more likely.
I couldn’t avoid being visible when I arrived, so I assumed Keeler would realize the person who got out of the cab was me…in which case, he’d found a comfortable hiding place and was watching me. He wouldn’t do anything while I was this close to the homes; it would mean risking exposure.
The thought of this assassin having the upper hand gave me a chill. I was too close to finding my daughter to make a mistake. I looked around, up at the roof and at the backyards opposite the Turners’ house, most separated by a chain link fence. Everything looked quiet. I have to find a way to get him to reveal his location.
***
Keeler stuck the silenced Sig-Sauer in his belt and pulled his shirt over it. Finishing his preparation, he began casually crossing the street when Holt’s moonlit figure moved away from the house, back the way he had come. Perfect. A moment before, Keeler didn’t know what the detective would do next. Now, he thought Holt would return to the street where the cab had dropped him off. But I’ll make sure he doesn’t get there.
He pulled his hood up when he reached the opposite sidewalk. Keeler paced quickly to the front of the house that had been lit up earlier. All the rooms were dark. He turned right at the far edge and ran along the driveway to where Holt had entered the backyard. He pressed his body against the house, pulled the pistol from under his shirt, and aimed. As soon as he turns the corner, Holt will look down the barrel of my gun.
At the sudden hard nudge on the nape of his neck, he knew he’d fucked up.
“Drop it, Keeler.”
***
Going back the way I’d come, I had wanted to make myself visible long enough for Keeler to spot what I was doing. Crouching between houses, I saw a tall figure leaving the shadows and crossing the street. I padded out to the sidewalk and circled behind him.
Checkmate. Or so I thought at the time.
He didn’t drop the pistol, so I reached around and took it from his hand. And received an elbow in the eye.
Stunned and seeing bright, flickering stars, I dropped his Sig-Sauer. My shock gave him time to grab the hand holding my Glock. I blocked a punch. Blinking my eyes several times to regain full vision, I held on tight. I planted a roundhouse on his chin. It was a good shot, and he let go, but he wasn’t giving up.
I thought it important for what comes next that he realized who was in charge. I kicked his pistol away, ejected the clip from my Glock, and pocketed it. I threw my weapon behind me.
I wanted some sense of his style, so I moved in, encouraging him to throw a punch. He seemed to be gauging me too. He feinted three times and circled left. There wasn’t much space in the side yard. If I circled, it would bring us close—so close it might turn into a wrestling match. I stood my ground. I could see from his eyes this confused him, and he returned to his original position.
Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed this little dance. But I didn’t want a neighbor or passerby to discover us and call the police. Keeler should’ve wanted the same thing. Shoulders squared, Keeler rushed in, attempting a knockout. I dodged the punch and jabbed at his ribs. I only grazed him as he backed up.
I began to think his style was a mix of street fighter and some training as a boxer. It would do him no good here. I feinted a kick to his groin. He dropped his hands. I sank my fist into his solar plexus, and it was over. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air. He walked to the side yard hedges and vomited.
I collected his weapon and placed it at the small of my back. Picking up my Glock, I loaded the clip and said, “I think we’ve been played, Keeler. I’m going to give you a chance to get even. Take it. You won’t like the alternative.”
I made it obvious he wouldn’t leave the yard alive.
Chapter 31
Jane brought a hand to her jaw and winced. She moaned when she moved her pounding head. She could feel the cold ground beneath her body and brushed her hands over damp blades of grass. Easing open her eyes, she sucked in a quick breath. Logan leaned against a tree next to her, drinking from a pint of vodka. Before she could feign unconsciousness, he looked at her.
“Sorry, Jane. I didn’t want to hurt you.” He took another drink. “You don’t have to worry about your brother. I took care of it.”
Tears filled Jane’s eyes and streamed over her face. “What have you done to him?”
Logan slipped the bottle of liquor inside his jacket and rolled on his side, his face inches from hers. He wiped the tears from one cheek with his thumb. Jane grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away.
“Hey, no need to get mad. I told you not to worry. He’s getting help.”
She raised her head a few inches. They were at the edge of the field and within running distance of the school. Thank God. “Where is he? Take me to him.”
Logan grinned. “Sorry, but I’m in no condition to drive and neither are you.”
Jane groaned as she pushed up on her elbows and tried to sit. Waves of nausea caused her to whimper. She hated weakness and didn’t want Logan to think he had control over her. She steadied her breathing to relieve the queasiness. “Logan, help me back to the school. I need to call for a ride.”
Logan laughed. “Oh sure, and then what? Here, have a drink.” He pulled out the vodka and pushed it to Jane’s mouth.” When she shoved it away, he grabbed her by the back of the neck. “Take a fucking drink. It will calm you down, and you won’t be in such a bitchy mood.”
Logan was strong and Jane was afraid he would hit her again. She took the bottle from him. “I can hold it myself.” She sipped the vodka.
“C’mon, you can do better than that.” Logan’s tone was soft and cajoling. He smiled and caressed her face with the back of his hand.
Uncomfortable with Logan’s sudden gentleness, Jane worried about his intentions. She almost wished she would throw up, but the nausea had all but passed. She needed
to be on her feet. Then at the right moment, she could get away. “I think I’m feeling better.”
When Jane tried to rise, Logan stopped her, laying her back against the grass. “I know what will make you feel great.” With his chest pressed against her, he brought his lips down on hers.
As another wave of nausea, mixed with fear overwhelmed her, Jane’s mind raced with ways to escape.
***
With Keeler taken care of, I fought the temptation to ring the Turners’ bell, introduce myself, and ask to wait for Marnie to come home. Instead, I called Maddie. She sounded out of breath when she answered on the second ring.
“Is everything okay, Maddie?”
“Lucas, are you in Elmira?”
“Yes, I’m outside the Turners’ house. Where are you?”
“At the high school with Loretta Turner. We’re looking for Marnie. She came here to decorate the gym, but no one’s seen her in at least forty-five minutes.”
The hairs on my neck prickled. “You mean she’s missing?”
“I don’t know if I would say that. One of the decorating committee said she left the gym to get a box of streamers and never returned. The box is still in the school lobby.”
“Does she have a cell phone?”
“Yes, her mother tried calling, but she doesn’t answer.”
“Where’s the school?”
Maddie gave me directions. Luckily, it was within walking distance. I ran all the way to John J. Stapleton High School.
I reached the school in five minutes and saw Maddie and Loretta Turner waiting outside. They were having an animated conversation with a teenage boy.
Maddie saw me and waved. Loretta Turner glanced up, her eyes on me as I moved closer, assessing me. Maddie made a quick introduction and then turned her attention on the young man. “Connor, tell Mr. Holt what you told us.”
I listened to Connor recount how he’d brought Jane—she’s not Marnie any more—to where her brother lay unconscious. When Jane tried to call for help, another boy, Logan, stopped her and dragged her away. Connor didn’t know where Jane was, but Logan returned to tell them to bring Dylan to a hospital and then disappeared again. Looking for a way to assuage his guilt for not calling EMTs, Connor stayed behind.
Referring to my daughter as Jane while Connor related his story momentarily tempered the fear and unease I felt. But the realization that we were talking about Marnie kicked in, and I was in full search mode by the time Connor finished.
Torn by worry for both her children, Loretta Turner struggled with what to do. She called her husband and as calmly as she could, told him to contact the local hospital to see if Dylan was there. She decided to meet him there and left the task of finding Jane to Maddie and me.
“My husband needs me to be there with him and Dylan. I know you want Jane to be safe as much as I do.” Loretta Turner looked at me with pleading eyes. “Find her, Mr. Holt. Find her.”
***
Logan’s kiss roughened as he sought her tongue. Jane twisted away and refused to kiss him back. She pushed her palms on his shoulders and turned her head to the side. He wasn’t deterred by her resistance and focused his tongue on her neck and ear. Jane’s fear turned to anger, and when he shifted to move the lower part of his body over her, she raised her knee and jammed it into his groin.
Logan cried out in pain as he fell over and off her, and Jane rolled away to create more distance between them. Unsteady at first, she rose from the ground and ran. She didn’t have a cell phone. The lamps lighting the field were off. Distant light came from those on the school building. Not sure how much time had passed, Jane raced toward the part of the field where she last saw Dylan. She drew closer but couldn’t see anyone. Maybe Logan was telling the truth.
Jane’s head throbbed and running made her dizzy. She stopped when she thought she saw a figure in the distance and heard someone calling her name. She raised her arm to wave and call back, when Logan came up behind her. “Jane, you bitch.”
Logan grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. Making a fist with her free hand, she plowed it into his face. Surprised by the punch, Logan lost his grip on her. Before he steadied himself, Jane lunged in, poked his eyes, and kicked his legs. She glanced around. The figure she’d seen was no longer visible. She needed to get off the field and back inside the school. The picnic area entrance was closest. She raced toward it, hoping it wasn’t locked.
***
The field was massive and backed up to a thick row of tall pines. I hoped we wouldn’t have to expand our search there. Based on where Connor said Dylan had become ill, we had split up, I in one direction and Maddie in another.
Although I had a small flashlight, I didn’t want to announce my presence in case doing so put Marnie in more danger. There was enough moonlight to see what was directly in front of me. At one far end of the field were a gazebo and several picnic tables. Beyond that was another entrance to the school. I headed toward it.
Chapter 32
Douglas Cain strode past Mrs. Grimes to the elevator without saying good night. Neither Holt nor Keeler had called to update him on their assignments. I should’ve told each of them to keep me informed. Cain knew he couldn’t call; with his luck, it would be exactly the wrong time.
The elevator doors opened the same time his phone buzzed. Noting the caller, he let the elevator go and answered. “Hello?”
“Cain. It’s Kerrigan.”
Kerrigan’s detached use of Cain’s last name put the lawyer on his guard. “What happened, Emmett?”
“I have bad news. The police have identified the sniper—”
“How?” The muscles in Cain’s shoulders stiffened. He shook his head and murmured, “So fast. Shit.”
“This guy will tell everything and implicate you to cut a deal. The outcome of the election is in jeopardy. You need to resign.”
“Forget it.” Cain shook his head in disbelief. “You’re overreacting.”
“I’m going to advise Grayson to cut you loose.”
“Are you crazy? He would never do that.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“I am sure. I’ve been saving Todd’s ass since college.”
“This is different. You should be prepared for a visit from the police.” Kerrigan ended the call.
Cain pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it. Who does he think he is? Ever since this cabal came into existence, he’s tried to assume power beyond the original mandate to advise and promote Grayson.
Now it was personal. Cain worried the understanding that he would be Grayson’s chief of staff was in jeopardy. He’s always inserting himself between Todd and me, taking Todd’s side in every discussion. Kerrigan wants to cut me out. Well, this time he’s bitten off more than he can chew. I’ve taken care of every other problem, and this won’t be the exception. I expect a reward, not a rebuke.
Cain still couldn’t relax. The situation he created in Elmira with Holt and Keeler was a desperate measure that would, at best, leave him with one problem instead of two. He picked up the phone and called Todd Grayson.
“Todd, its Douglas. There’s a situation developing—”
“I’ve already heard it from Emmett.”
“But I just spoke to him.” This flustered Cain; he wanted to get to Grayson first. “Kerrigan is in panic mode. I don’t think he has all the facts yet. Don’t let him talk you into anything. He’s making a power grab. I think he wants to be chief of staff. The move he wants to make would put the campaign on the defensive if anything goes public—” Grayson interrupted Cain’s incoherent babbling.
“Wait. Power grab? Chief of staff? What the hell are you talking about? This sounds like a desperate pitch to turn the tables on the situation. Pull yourself together and be here in thirty minutes.”
“Fine. Just don’t commit to anything with Kerrigan. He may be going off the deep end.” Cain hung up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He’s not the only one.
&nb
sp; ***
Before Cain could knock, the door to Grayson’s apartment opened. Hiding his surprise at Kerrigan’s presence, Cain glared at the older businessman. They locked eyes like two beasts of prey. The hate was palpable and neither spoke. Kerrigan broke the tension by pulling the door completely open and stepping past the lawyer. Cain waited in the doorway and watched until the elevator arrived and Kerrigan stepped in.
He turned and realized Grayson stood at one end of the large foyer, staring at him.
“Shut the door.”
Cain flinched at Grayson’s lack of a greeting and the clipped words. He set down his briefcase and walked toward the senator.
“Todd, this situation appears worse than it is.” Cain used a calm, confident voice to keep the exchange from becoming heated.
“Really? Good. Because from where I stand,” Grayson’s voice rose with each word, “we’re driving to the edge of a cliff with no brakes! The police know the name of the sniper who took a shot at Detective Scully. The sniper that you hired. You’ve got a goddamn assassin working for you—and you work for me!”
Grayson walked to the room he used as an office and sat in a leather chair. Cain followed and took a seat.
“Douglas, you do realize I’m running for President of the United fucking States.” Grayson took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, and crossed one leg over the other. He gave Cain a mock smile. “So tell me, Douglas, how does it only appear worse than it is?”
Cain shivered from Grayson’s icy tone but stayed calm. He had one last hope.
“Trust me. I always come through for you in the end.”
“In the end? That’s an appropriate metaphor for our situation. You sound like you have a plan. Is something in the works to save our asses?” Grayson’s intense look softened at the hope. “Something Kerrigan is not aware of?”