“I’m just glad he didn’t harm her.”
“He didn’t need to harm her, he charmed her instead. But why the visit now?”
“I signed the guest book last time. I’m betting someone told Moretti. Dammit. He’s always ten paces ahead.” Nick raised a pair of small binoculars to his face and scanned the area.
“What did the brothers do? Befriend Joey on the streets, take him back to the house, kill him and store his body until they were ready to set the fire? Maybe Mrs. O’Hara was wrong, and Joey was there right before the fire. Maybe the twins let him die in the fire?”
“We can always ask the Moretti brothers.”
She huffed out a breath. “As if I’d ever believe anything out of their mouths.”
“You believed what Andrew Moore, the arms commander, was selling hook, line and sinker.”
Heat blazed in Lara’s chest, and she turned toward Nick. “He fooled me. I feel like such an idiot.”
“Hey, it was a two-way street. He was buying your line of bullshit, too. And it ended up a lot worse for him than you. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Lara hunched into her jacket and slid down in her seat. Had it? Had it ended worse for Andrew than for her? It had ended pretty badly for her—and those around her, even those unlucky enough to share her name.
Despite the coffee, she yawned. “I’m happy that Victoria relented and let us join the surveillance team, but I’m getting tired. The stakeout unit spotted The Ghost almost two hours ago and no sign of the sniper now. There’s no point in staying here through the night, or maybe we can get James and Jennifer to play lookout if the unit picks him up again.”
“Yeah, unless...” Nick hunched forward, the binoculars stuck to his face.
Lara shot up in her seat, everything but their quarry forgotten in an instant. “Whaddya got?”
“I have a dark-haired man in my sights right now, walking toward us on Houston.”
“Let me see.” She snapped her fingers for the binoculars.
“You’re not going to need these in three-two-one.” He leveled a finger at the right side of the windshield. “You see him in the black windbreaker? Long stride?”
Scooting to the edge of her seat, Lara squinted out the window. “I do. It’s gotta be him. We’ll both cross the street. You circle around to head him off, and I’ll follow behind.”
“It’s go time, partner.”
The adrenaline was flowing through her body hard and fast. She slipped out of the car and crossed the street with a crowd of people. When they hit the sidewalk, Nick peeled off and went the other way.
Lara kept the man across the street in her side vision until she passed him, and then she crossed back over to pick up his trail. She rolled up on the balls of her feet to see over the people in front of her, keeping that dark-haired target in her crosshairs.
The man hung a left at Sullivan, just where they’d left the car.
With her heart thumping a staccato beat, Lara picked up her pace and cut to the left. She stumbled as she scanned the pedestrians moving in front of her—no sniper. She swore and grabbed her phone. “Nick, he turned on Sullivan, but I might’ve lost him already.”
“Heading around.”
As she stuffed the phone in her pocket, a quick movement from one of the businesses caught her eye. The man had stepped back onto the sidewalk with a quick half-turn.
He’d made her.
She crossed her arm to put a hand on her gun nestled in her shoulder holster beneath her jacket. Breaking into a jog, she called out. “Hey, you! Stop! FBI.”
He turned to face her, and the look he leveled at her chilled her to the bone. Oh, yeah, they had their man.
Then he raised his arm and fired at her through the crowd.
Lara cried out. “Get down! Get down!”
The people between her and the gunman dove to the ground or lunged for the entryways to the buildings. A few idiots had their cell phones out to catch the action. She yelled at them, for all the good it did.
Lara ducked behind a parked car and whipped out her own weapon. “Stop! FBI!”
She couldn’t shoot at him with all these people still milling around—and he knew it.
He turned and sprinted down the sidewalk, shoving people out of his way.
Lara gave chase and almost tripped over the body of a man on the sidewalk, blood pooling beneath his shoulder.
She jabbed her finger at a gaggle of pedestrians huddled in a doorway and flipped out her badge. “Use your phones for something other than video. Call 911 now.”
As three of them got on their phones, Lara took off, her arms pumping at her sides. She halted on the corner, her chest heaving. The guy was a magician—a ghost.
An old man, sitting in a wheelchair in a doorway, coughed.
Lara’s eyebrows shot up, and she whispered, “Are you alone? Do you have anyone who can help you get out of the way?”
He raised one crooked finger to his lips and then pointed upward.
Lara tilted her head back and surveyed the top of the building. The Ghost did seem to prefer being up high.
Lara flashed the man a thumbs-up and entered the building. Two elevators faced her, and she called both of them at the same time. When they landed on the first floor, she hit the stop button to keep them there.
Then she burst back outside and touched the wheelchair-bound man. “You need to take cover.”
She grabbed the lowest rung of the fire escape. With the elevators jammed, this was his only way off that roof. She got on her phone and whispered the address to Nick. “I’m going up to the roof.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t put yourself in any danger.”
Nick had to know her better than that.
She ended the call and continued her climb up the fire escape with her gun drawn. She reached the top and eased open the door to the roof. She widened her stance, taking aim with her weapon.
Nothing. Nobody.
Did The Ghost know she’d made it into the building? Would he be waiting for her?
Holding her gun in front of her with both hands, she stepped onto the gravel of the roof. The wind whipped her hair across her face. She turned her head to shake it out of her line of vision.
Her boots crunched the gravel as she took her second step onto the roof. She cringed. She needed to be silent.
Her muscles tense and wound into coils, she crept toward a corner of a small structure with a whirring fan on top. The noise from the fan had masked her footsteps. She peered around the structure and sucked in a breath.
The Ghost was at the edge of the building, looking as if he was contemplating a jump to the next rooftop. God, she didn’t want to follow him—but she would. She’d do anything to bring him down, now that she had him in her sights.
She aimed her gun at his head. They wanted him alive, but she had no problem putting him down here and now. “FBI. Freeze. Drop your weapon.”
His back stiffened. With his gun still hanging at his side, he began to turn toward her.
“That’s it. Nice and easy. Toss the gun this way.”
His arm tensed as he began to raise it, and Lara made a split-second decision. She squeezed the trigger of her gun, and the blast echoed in her ears.
The Ghost grabbed his right hand, and he let out a howl as his weapon dropped from his bloody, mangled fingers. The FBI range master had trained her to make a shot like that—and Andrew Moore’s schooling had perfected it. Satisfying to be able to use it against him.
The door behind her burst open, and Nick charged onto the roof. “Are you okay?”
Lara lunged for The Ghost’s weapon as it took a few hops across the gravel. “I will be as soon as we secure this asshole.”
As she crouched to retrieve the gun, Nick blew past her and grabbed The Ghost’s legs as he launched himself over the edge of the roof.
“Nick!” As The Ghost’s feet gained purchase against the rooftop, he was dragging Nick closer to the drop-off.
Lar
a dropped The Ghost’s gun behind her and wrapped her arms around his legs to hold them still. Nick’s upper body was poised over the abyss with The Ghost’s, and as Lara peered down ten stories to the street below, her stomach lurched.
With a grunt, Nick hauled The Ghost back from the edge of the roof and, with his arm around his neck, dragged him toward the center. He threw him down and planted a knee in the middle of The Ghost’s chest, tightening the cuffs around his wrists. “Holy shit. He almost went over.”
“As much as I would like to see him hit the sidewalk down there, we need him. But if he was intent on throwing himself off the roof, you didn’t have to go with him.”
As Nick read the man his rights, Lara scooted back toward The Ghost’s weapon and discharged the magazine from it. She shoved the gun into the back of her waistband. “No high-powered rifle today, huh?”
She joined Nick, who had yanked the sniper up to his knees, his hand dripping blood on the gravel below him.
Crouching beside him, she said, “Pretty loyal, aren’t you? Were you really ready to roll off this roof ten-odd stories below to protect your boss?”
The assassin sat back on his heels and winced. At least she’d hurt him.
Lara still hadn’t come down from her adrenaline high—first the chase and then the capture. It’s what she lived for. And this was big.
She had so many questions. Who hired him to kill Lara, Grant and the hit woman? Who hired him to take out Latanya? Did he poison Eve, too, at Chelsea Place? “We have many things to discuss, you and I,” she said, leaning close to him.
He straightened his spine as his cold eyes pinned her with a glare, and then he spit in her face.
Nick was just about to step in when Lara lifted her T-shirt and wiped her cheek. “Classy guy. You’ll talk—one way or the other. Even if you don’t, we’ll make sure Moretti knows we have you in custody.”
The Ghost’s thin lips curled into a smile as Nick dragged him to his feet.
Sirens wailed down below, and Nick said, “I called for backup. We’ll let the NYPD transport him to headquarters. Then we’ll start the interrogation. A good day’s work, huh?”
Lara moved ahead of Nick and the prisoner and opened the door to the stairs for them.
Nick shoved the sniper ahead of him, and as he passed through the door, The Ghost turned to Lara and said, “Tick tock, tick tock, Lara Grant.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lara’s high at catching The Ghost and getting him off the streets had been completely diminished by his ominous message.
When she returned from the interrogation room, no one was at their desks. The silence in the office after the earlier excitement hung heavy. Only Cass remained, clicking away on her keyboards in her tech room.
“The Ghost won’t talk. At least he won’t talk while I’m there, but we nailed the son of a bitch, got him off the streets,” Lara announced, entering the tech guru’s inner sanctum.
“Congrats. Feels like the tide is turning. Big win for you, Lara. Who is he? Did you fingerprint him?” Cass pushed her disheveled hair back from her face, as she turned and looked at Lara.
“Like the ghost he is—” Lara held up her hand and wiggled her fingers “—he has no fingerprints. He burned them off.”
Cass shook her head. “What is it with these people and fire? The fire at the Moretti’s house, the fire at the club after they killed Eve and now this guy scorching off his prints.”
“Acid.”
“What?”
“The Ghost burned off his prints with acid, not fire.”
“Oh, okay. That makes all the difference in the world.”
“Have you even been out of this office today? Have you taken a break from your computers?” Lara scooted her chair over and leaned into Cass’s work space.
Cass jerked into action and tried to block Lara’s views of the monitors, while Lara grabbed the edge of one display. When Cass realized she hadn’t acted quickly enough, she dropped her hands to her lap.
Lara’s gaze darted back and forth between the two screens. One display had thumbnail pictures of all the victims—the women who’d been caught in the sex slave snare, the ones who had been murdered. On the other screen, Andrew Moretti stared out insolently from his mug shot, which looked more like a head shot for a modeling job.
“What are you doing, Cass?” Lara wedged her elbow on the table, sinking her chin into her palm. “I thought you were trying to locate Moretti’s army file, as well as digging into the brothers’ background.”
“The US military is tough to crack. I needed a break. And I’ve done enough digging on their background.” Cass folded her hands, twisting her fingers into knots. “There’s nothing else. They’re evil. They murdered a seventeen-year-old runaway, and they may have murdered their own parents—all before they hit legal age.”
“I know that.” Lara placed one hand over Cass’s fidgeting fingers. “You’re trembling. Are you afraid Mason will come after you again?”
“I suppose that’s part of it.” Cass lifted and dropped her shoulders. “He must’ve been the one who attacked me, right? Now that I’ve been reading all about him, it terrifies me that I was so close to such a powerful force of evil.”
“I understand your fear, but at least we have The Ghost in custody now. You don’t have to worry about him going after anyone. He’s finished.” Lara nodded at the two screens, side by side. “Is that it? You’re thinking about your sister and all the other victims?”
“I can’t help it.” Cass ran her finger along a row of faces. “I look at them every day, you know. I visit them online. I read their backgrounds, their histories. Th-they speak to me.”
Lara swallowed. “Maybe you should give it a rest, Cass. Go forward. I know it’s hard, but only by moving forward can we bring these people down.”
“They’re horrible, vile people—all of them.”
Lara bit her lip. Cass had been more affected by this research than they’d realized. Maybe Victoria should assign her to a different case. Maybe she needed some time off—maybe they all did.
Cass had an expectant look on her face as if waiting for Lara to agree with her...or challenge her.
“Of course they’re vile people. That’s why we’re all working so hard to put a stop to their activities, and we took a huge leap forward today with The Ghost in custody.”
“And it doesn’t matter.” Cass jumped up from her chair, flicking her fingers at Andrew’s mug shot. “It doesn’t matter that he looks like a movie star or some hot bachelor of the week. He’s disgusting. He’s cruel.”
“Cass, I...”
“How could you have even kissed him?”
Lara’s heart stuttered in her chest, and her blood raced through her veins. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus. Cass knew. How?
Blinking, she zeroed in on the look in Cass’s eyes, and waves of hot shame engulfed Lara’s face. She put one hand on her cheek as if to suppress it...as if she ever could.
The blood pounded in her ears, fueling her anger—at herself, at Cass for laying bare her humiliation. She wanted to run. She wanted to lash out. Instead, she gripped the edge of the table as her gaze darted to Andrew’s picture—to Andrew’s mouth.
How could she have kissed him? She didn’t know. Yes, she did know. He wasn’t Moretti when she’d slept with him. Andrew Moore hadn’t been the diabolical syndicate boss when she’d kissed him. He’d been the tortured vet, the man trying to do the right thing, the conflicted arms commander.
He’d been lying about everything...and so had she.
Her gaze returned to Cass’s accusatory glare, and she flinched.
Cass’s bottom lip quivered. “Are you going to deny that you kissed him?”
“I’m not going to deny it, Cass. It happened, and if I could take it all back, I would. I-it was so complicated at the time.” Still clinging to the table, Lara stood up to face Cass. “How did you know? How did you find out?”
“I was working on a new bug
ging system for Victoria.” Cass folded her arms across her belly as if it hurt. “I wasn’t spying on you or eavesdropping. I was running tests of the new system one night. You walked in, shut the door, and the first thing you said was, ‘Victoria, I kissed Moretti.’”
Lara squared her shoulders. “What else did you hear that night?”
Cass’s eyes widened. “Nothing. Victoria told you to stop, that she wasn’t sure the office was a safe place to talk, then the two of you left to go to a more secure location, I assume. I’m sorry.” Cass dropped her chin to her chest, covering her face with both hands. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I know it’s hard for you, too. I just wish, I just wish I’d never heard that conversation. I wish I could un-know that piece of information about you—about him.”
“I understand how you feel.” There was a lot that Lara wished she could un-know about this case.
Cass choked, and then her shoulders started shaking with sobs.
Lara got to her in two steps and draped an arm across Cass’s heaving shoulders. She squeezed her arm and whispered, “It’s okay. I’m glad you confronted me. I knew something was bothering you, and I don’t want that between us.”
“It’s just so hard.”
“It is hard. I felt terrible when I learned Andrew Moore was Moretti. He disgusts me every bit as much as he disgusts you, Cass. Probably more.”
Cass drove her palms into her eyes to stop the flow of tears. “If only Allie had gotten away like those other girls. She still would’ve been messed up, but I could’ve helped her.”
“I know you would have.” Lara took Cass by the shoulders. “We need to forget about what could’ve been or what might’ve been. We need to focus on the future. Let’s continue with no regrets and stop this bastard.”
“Bastards,” Cass whispered, dragging her hand across her wet face. “There are two of them—each as equally evil as the other.”
Lara reached over to the credenza and plucked several tissues from a box. She handed them to Cass. “We’ll nail both of them and anyone associated with them.”
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