Danger in Deer Ridge (Blackthorne, Inc.)
Page 30
“You can go on up,” Elizabeth said. She wrested the bag from the trunk.
“I’ll walk with you,” he said.
Was he afraid to face Victor alone? Or, God forbid, was he protecting her? Enough. She’d been flustered, weak, and maybe adjusting from the aftereffects of her trip through the skies followed by primitive accommodations. But no more. If she’d learned anything from her few days with Grinch, it was that Elizabeth had a spine. And, damn it, she was Elizabeth.
Back straight, she shifted the handle of her case, took Will’s hand, and smiled. “Let’s go.” Surprised by the strength she felt holding her son’s hand, she knew she couldn’t let him down. No eight-year-old ought to be in the position—perceived or otherwise—of helping his own mother.
She marched up the steps, flung open the door, and strode into the room. Victor stood there, his usual expression of displeasure painted across his face. “I don’t suppose there’s anything to drink in this dump,” he said.
She bent to kiss Will’s forehead. “Go put your things in your room. And wait there.”
His head rocked in the barest show of denial.
“I’ll be fine. Promise.” She kissed him again, then patted his bottom. “Go.”
She set her bag against the couch. “There’s not much of anything here. We took almost everything with us after the lightning strike. And we’d only been here a couple of days, so it wasn’t much to begin with. I’ll go shopping tomorrow.” She kept her voice firm.
He moved closer, encroaching on her space. She planted her feet, determined to stand her ground. First on the little things, to give her the strength to stick up for herself on the bigger ones. She waited for his insistence she drop everything to go buy him some booze, but he didn’t. He frowned. And stepped back.
That wasn’t so bad. One gold star for Elizabeth.
The door to Will’s room clicked shut. Victor reached for her arm. She jerked away. “Say what you have to say, Victor. But keep your voice down. There’s no need for Will to hear.”
“Where is it?”
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know she knew what he meant. Bracing herself for the consequences, she balled her hands into fists. “Where is what?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. You get me that ledger right now!”
She met his gaze, determined not to flinch at the fury behind his penetrating stare. “Believe me, I would. If I had it. But I don’t.”
“Don’t you lie to me, bitch. I know you took it.” He raised his arm, the flat of his hand extended, as he’d done so many times before.
She thought Will must be able to hear her heart pounding against her ribcage. “You’re not going to hit me, Victor. Not ever again.” She faced him, hands fisted at her hips. “If you want anything from me, you’re going to have to treat me like an adult. An equal. Not someone you can intimidate and push around. If you can accept that, you’re welcome to join me on the couch, and we’ll talk.”
She held her breath. Moment of truth. Would he hit her, or would he back down?
His hand dropped. “Very well.” He shuffled to the couch, and flopped down.
She exhaled. Eyeing him warily, she took a seat beside him—but far enough away so he couldn’t touch her. “Yes, I took it. But I don’t have it. I sent it to … someone. For safekeeping. I can get it back. Maybe by tomorrow.”
He scraped his fingers across his jaw, and she heard the faint scratch of nails against stubble. For the first time, she allowed herself to see him. He was … rumpled. Victor was never rumpled. If he was here only because he was mad at her for taking the journal, he’d be his usual impeccable self.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Wrong?” He snorted—a cross between a laugh and a groan. “I need that ledger. Oh, and then there’s the small matter of my wife running off with my son and pretending to be dead. You cost me a lot of money, Julie Ann. Private investigators—ones good enough to find you—don’t come cheap.”
“Nobody asked you to find me,” she said. “You could have accepted my death. Gone on with your life.”
“And I might have—except for the ledger. If I don’t have it back by the end of the week—”
She saw something she’d never seen in his eyes. Fear. “Someone else wants it,” she said. “Enough to hurt you.” She almost laughed. Almost. Although part of her thought it would be fitting for Victor to be on the receiving end of someone’s wrath, she couldn’t wish that on anyone.
She tried to make sense of the thoughts swirling through her head. Should she tell him she knew about his secret—whatever it was—hidden in the journal? Or let him think she knew nothing about it? And what if that secret wasn’t the reason someone else wanted the ledger? Maybe it was the entries themselves, and Grinch’s colleagues hadn’t figured out the code. What if Victor himself didn’t even know what was hidden in the ledger?
Not knowing was no longer a safety net. Curiosity won. “So, what’s in the ledger?”
He lowered his head. “A few years back, I bought a rare coin at a very low price. The owner had no clue how valuable it was. I later discovered it would have rounded out a ten-piece proof set, and someone else owned the other nine coins. Without mine, his collection is worth a fraction of what the complete set would bring. Somehow, about six months ago, he tracked me down. Offered me much more than I’d paid for it.”
“But you didn’t sell?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought I could up the price. I was stupid—didn’t check out who he was. Let’s say that was a big mistake on my part. He thought my price was out of line, and we had some … heated … negotiations. We finally reached an … amicable … solution, and I agreed to sell him my coin. That’s when I noticed the real ledger was missing.”
“So you knew I’d taken it?”
He shook his head. “Actually, no, not at first.” He lowered his head.” Frankly, I didn’t think you were smart enough. But when I noticed the other missing collectibles, I figured it was you. But by then, I’d received your death notification, and pretty much wrote everything off. Whoever did your identity swap was damn good. I bought it.”
He sounded so pathetic, she was tempted to touch him. To try to offer comfort. She wondered if she might have, if he’d been closer. And then she remembered all his other apologies, his promises never to hurt her again. “Go on,” she said.
“I kept stalling, thinking I’d get it back before he made good on his threats. I hired a PI to find your trail, thinking the ledger might show up. He’s the one who figured out you’d faked your death, and he found you.”
“Through Norma Fitzsimmons.”
“If that’s who the biddy in the kitchen was, I guess. He never gave me names. Said he found sources on websites, schmoozed them into believing they were helping a distraught father. I don’t know what he told her.” His eyes softened a trifle. “I had no idea she’d pull a gun. You have to believe me. His contacts were supposed to take pictures.”
She wanted to ask about Grace, but felt it would be wiser to leave her name out of it—no telling what Victor knew, and what he might do. His temper far outweighed his fleeting attempts at contrition. Already, his eyes narrowed. His jaw set.
“So, Julie Ann. That’s it. But you’re back now. You go do what you have to do to get that ledger here. And then I want to make up for lost time. You’re still my wife, you know.”
So much for contrition. Elizabeth suppressed a shudder at the too-familiar arrogance in his tone. A car crunched down the driveway. Grinch? Much as she wanted it to be him, she knew Victor, and this was not the time for confrontations.
“You expecting company?” Victor asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know anyone.” She stood and stepped toward the door.
“Stop.” Victor grabbed her arm. “I’ll get it. Go to your room.”
From the hallway, Elizabeth watched as Victor opened the door to three strangers. Men.
Large men. In ill-fitting black suits. Thugs right out of Central Casting. Down to the scar on one’s face, dark glasses on another. Holding her breath, she hurried to Will’s room and shut the door behind her. She pressed the button to lock it, although anyone with half a brain—or a good, strong kick, could get past it.
* * * * *
Grinch snapped his phone shut, then went into the house. Chester, unsteady on his feet, met him at the door. Grinch scratched him behind the ears. “Hey, boy, you feeling better?”
A feeble lick of Grinch’s hand reassured him. “Let’s get you some water.”
He filled Chester’s dish, then went to the kitchen where Dylan was playing with his chips.
“You didn’t finish your hot dog,” Grinch said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Not even for the other half of your cookie?”
Dylan shook his head. “Are Elizabeth and Will coming back?”
Grinch took a breath. “I don’t know. But you’ll see Will tomorrow. You have camp, remember?”
In response, Dylan grabbed the other half of his cookie. “Will you play football with me?”
“Not now, sport. How about picking a movie? I’ll set it up for you.”
He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with his son, but he couldn’t trust Elizabeth’s fate to anyone else—not even his Blackthorne teammates. He had to be there. And he had a score to settle with Victor. Even Dalton had understood.
With Dylan camped out watching one of the Toy Story movies, Grinch set about assembling his gear.
The James Bond theme interrupted.
“Jinx. What’s up?”
“Minor modification in plans. Victor’s about to have company.”
“Cut to the chase, Jinx. I’m running low on patience.”
Jinx immediately shifted into controller mood. “Three men, ETA imminent. They want what Victor has—had, since we have it now. We’re trying to grab the intel, but until we know otherwise, consider them armed and dangerous. They work for a Louie Morelli, who’s used to getting what he wants, and doing whatever it takes to get it. They know better than to return empty-handed. Doubtful they’ll believe Victor doesn’t have their prize.”
Shit. Threatening Victor was one thing. Grinch had figured he’d go in, tell Victor he could have the ledger for Elizabeth’s permanent freedom. Now the game had gone from penny-ante to high stakes, and he was going to have to go all in.
“Backup’s on the way,” Jinx said. “ETA ten. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Make it five.”
After listening to the rest of Jinx’s briefing, Grinch checked and double-checked his gear. Although the plan was to go in quick, no telling what snafus might arise. For now, he stuck his guns in his ruck—once he left the house, he’d suit up properly, but he didn’t need to stand in front of his son fully armed.
The doorbell rang. Closer to Jinx’s ten than Grinch’s five, but Cheese, wearing civilian garb, stood on the porch. “Rest of the team is in the van, along with some toys of distraction. You ready?”
Grinch nodded. “I appreciate what you’re doing, man. It means a lot.”
“Hey, no problem. Cakewalk mission—I’d rather be here.” He followed Grinch into the room where Dylan and his teddy bear were watching the movie. “Oh, cool. Buzz Lightyear. ‘To infinity and beyond.’ My favorite. Can I watch with you?”
A smile spread across Dylan’s face. “Sure.”
Grinch picked up the remote and hit pause. He crouched in front of Dylan. “I have to go out for a while. You can hang with Cheese.”
“You’re coming back, right?”
“Of course. I don’t know how late it’ll be, though. So you show Cheese how everything works around here, okay? Chester will be here with you, too.”
He’d briefed Cheese about the essentials, and trusted the man to keep an eye on the dog.
“Have fun,” Cheese said. “Dylan and I have some serious Buzz Lightyear watching to do.” He hit the play button.
Grinch grabbed his go-bag and jogged out to the van. Dalton, as expected, was at the wheel, Harper riding shotgun. Grinch climbed in next to Olivia. As Dalton pulled out, Grinch put his Sig in his ankle holster and his Glock at his side. “What do we have?”
Despite his need to be in control where Elizabeth was concerned, Grinch accepted Dalton as team leader.
“Not much different from your typical hostage rescue,” Dalton said. “Two primary targets—Elizabeth and Will. Secondary is Victor. The guy might be a creep, but we don’t want him taken out in front of a kid.”
Dalton parked well off the road, leaving the van out of sight about a hundred yards from Elizabeth’s house. “This work for you, Harper?” Dalton asked.
Harper slid out of the van. Paced up a small rise to a cluster of trees. Turned slowly. Then came back. “Perfect. I’ll set up over there.”
Grinch forced several slow breaths as Harper grabbed his gun case and jogged off to set up his sniper rifle. As always, Grinch hoped there wouldn’t be a need for it. But if there was, you couldn’t have anyone better covering your six than Ryan Harper.
Dalton spread out a large sheet of paper and took a marker from his pocket. “Gather round.”
Grinch focused on the mission. Tried not to think about knowing the targets. No names. Targets. Female, mid-thirties. Male, eight.
“Here’s our position,” Dalton said. He drew a large circle about two thirds of the way up the page. “Here’s Harper.” He drew an X. “Here’s the house.” He drew a square. “Grinch, you’ve been here. Fill us in.”
Grinch added numbers along its perimeter, each representing a door or window.
“Given the spontaneity of this op,” Dalton went on, “we’re without the services of our eyes in the sky. Olivia, you go in first and scope out the place.” He settled his headset over his ears and adjusted the lip mic. “Radio check.”
The familiar routines helped center Grinch. He concentrated on Olivia’s voice coming through his headset. Strange not to be above, circling a helo, with Fozzie beside him, providing eyes and ears for the ground team. Strange not to have the usual briefing sessions, with every detail spelled out, along with backup plans. But this wasn’t a typical op. Grinch was grateful for the fact that Horace Blackthorne had decided to underwrite the mission.
The boss must have had quite a thing for Grace Ellsworth. Grinch’s thoughts immediately segued to Elizabeth. Did he care for her so deeply that she’d intrude into an op?
“Eyes on the two primaries.” Olivia’s voice snapped him back. “Position six. Window extraction should be easy.”
Grinch checked the diagram again. “That’s Will’s room. They’re both in there?”
“Affirmative.”
“The tangos?” Dalton asked.
Grinch quashed a smile at the use of the term for terrorists being used here. But the thugs in question were likely terrorizing Elizabeth, which was good enough for him.
“Checking,” Olivia said. A few pounding heartbeats later, her voice came back. “Position two. All four in the living room. Looks like interrogation. Wait.” A pause before she spoke again. “Secondary target in jeopardy. Tangos armed with handguns. Two trained on target. The third is applying brute force treatment.”
Grinch didn’t care—as long as they weren’t applying it to Elizabeth or Will. Let Victor see what being on the receiving end was like.
“Grinch, you’re on the primaries,” Dalton said. “Olivia, you wait for me. We’ll make some noise, let Grinch do his thing. In and out like the wind. He gets the targets to safety, and we regroup until we hear from Jinx. Harper, you ready?”
“Roger that.”
“Grinch, nothing stupid. Just get them out. Blackie’s not going to want to explain a body count out here.”
Logic warring with his gut, Grinch fisted his hands. “Understood.”
Dalton went to the back of the van and jerked out a huge boom box. “Do it,” he said.
“We’re a go.” Dalton’s voice came through Grinch’s headset. Seconds later, heavy metal music shattered the silence, accompanied by what mimicked a drunken couple having a shouting match.
Grinch rapped on Will’s window and pried the screen off. “Lizzie. Come out here. Now.”
The window slid open. He reached up.
“Will first,” Elizabeth said.
Grinch hoisted the boy out of the window, then helped Elizabeth down. “Targets acquired,” he said into his mic. He grabbed their hands and headed toward the van at as fast a pace he thought Will could handle. Which, he discovered, turned out to be entirely respectable, and they arrived at the van. He jerked the door open. “Inside,” he said.
He slammed the door shut behind them. Keyed his mic once more. “Primary targets are secure. Repeat. Secure.”
“Roger that,” came over his mic three times. And with it, his knees went weak. He leaned against the van, fighting to catch his breath, although he was barely winded from the short run.
Thankfully, Elizabeth and Will remained in the van. They’d asked no questions, simply did as he’d said. Trust was a good thing.
He was about to open the door and join them when Harper’s voice came over the radio. “I have a shot. Advise.”
Chapter 35
Elizabeth hugged Will to her side. “You all right?”
He nodded. “Did Grinch come to save us from the bad guys?”
Clearly, Will hadn’t missed the noises from the living room. She’d been seconds away from going out there to explain that she would get the ledger, when Grinch had arrived.