by Vicki Hinze
“She’s panicking, Candace,” Max said. “It’s in the fleshy part of my arm. Nothing life-threatening.”
Gabby glared at him. “Four inches in and you’d be dead, Max. That’s not panicking.”
“Keith!” Candace bellowed at the hall.
He came running, bare-chested, his pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, bleary-eyed and hair rumpled. “What’s wrong?”
“Max was shot.” Candace got on the other side of Max, dragged him to Keith, and then went back to Gabby and sat her down on the sofa. “You’re about to drop.”
“I’m weak. Really weak,” Gabby said.
“Clammy, too.” She got Gabby a cool cloth while Keith took Max to his makeshift clinic at the back of the house. “This will help.” She passed the cloth. “Now tell me what happened.”
“We were in the bathroom.” Gabby rubbed the cool cloth over her face and neck. “Max was hugging me. If he hadn’t turned, I would have been hit.”
Candace narrowed her eyes. “When did this happen?”
“Ten minutes ago. Maybe a little more,” Gabby said. “We looked around outside, trying to catch the bastard, but didn’t see anyone.”
“Did you call Jackson?”
“No. Max said there was no sense in it. If we couldn’t find anything, Jackson wouldn’t be able to either, and he’s swamped with the spraying.”
Candace didn’t get it. Something had happened to throw a wrench in the works. According to Elizabeth, Conlee’s second team should be in custody. Had they gotten away?
The phone rang. Candace stepped into the kitchen and answered it. “Hello.”
“You sound great,” Darlene said. “Call the ladies. The team is now on ice, cooling their heels in Jackson’s cells.”
Oh, boy. “How long have they been there?”
“Twenty minutes. I’ve been busy, helping process them and get them settled. Why?”
Worry replaced confusion. Candace swallowed a sip of water and set her glass on the counter. “Because about fifteen minutes ago, someone took a shot at Gabby and winged Max.”
“Oh, no. There’s someone else after her, too.”
Candace swiped at a water spot on the stainless steel countertop. “Sounds like a logical conclusion to me.”
“Any idea who?”
“Not a clue.” Candace checked to make sure Gabby was still on the sofa, out of earshot. “Keith is patching up Max. Gabby’s on the sofa. I can’t call the ladies with them here.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Darlene said. “The battery on my cell is low, but it’s not dead yet.” She blew out a sigh. “There’s more, Candace.”
“What more?” God, this had to be the night from hell.
“The bank robbers put up quite a ruckus. Jackson tagged them for resisting arrest without violence and for damaging the ATM and stealing the jewelry. Their fearless leader is demanding Jackson get Elizabeth down here. He says she can vouch for them.”
“But she didn’t see them. Miranda picked them up, posing as Elizabeth.”
“I know. Because they’re going to insist Jackson call Elizabeth and they believe she’ll vouch for them, but they won’t know her and she can honestly say she’s never seen them. I’m not worried about Jackson in this, but when Commander Conlee—”
He would show the team photos of all the ladies and they’d identify Miranda. “We need some kind of justification.”
“Like what? No matter what we tell him, the man is not going to appreciate us intercepting his operatives, setting them up as robbers and jewel thieves, and getting their asses thrown in jail, Candace.”
“He might. It depends on motive,” Candace said. “And Max’s shooter might just be it.”
“We were protecting them?”
“Exactly.”
“He’s not going to buy that, Candace. Why would he?”
“Because someone else really is after Gabby and Max. His own team canceling them is one thing. But a stranger taking out two of his best operatives isn’t going to sit well with the commander. We’ll blame the shooter, claiming Miranda was drugged and incapacitated, too, and say we intervened to protect the team. We’re sleepers, not trained to the extent these operatives are. We’re given latitude for less than stellar methods and judgments in this type of situation.”
“I hope you’re right. Because I am absolutely too tired to die.”
“You’re not going to die,” Candace said. “But if you do, I’ll have teabags put over your eyes to keep the swelling down.”
“Only you would do that to a corpse in her coffin.”
“Anything for a friend.”
Chapter Thirty
Gabby shoved away the tangle of covers, stretched over Max to the nightstand, and reached for the ringing phone.
“No! Let me get it.” Max grabbed the receiver from her and answered. “Hello?”
“Merlin is reporting another twenty-five EEE cases at Carnel Cove Memorial Hospital.”
Commander Conlee. Max digested what he’d said. Another twenty-five was too many cases to reasonably attribute to a normal spread of the infection. The missing black-banded canister had to contain Z-4027, and the trucks spraying the Cove had to be laced with it. Human trial studies. That’s the only thing that made sense. “Has Stan reported on the chemicals?”
“All tested. All normal.” Conlee sighed.
Normal? Max couldn’t believe it. “How can that be possible?” Gabby sent him a questioning look. He lifted a finger, motioning her to wait and be quiet. Conlee had to know she was still alive by now, but they’d be crazy to flaunt it in his face.
“Apparently more infected mosquitoes than we estimated escaped from the lab.”
The memory replayed in his mind of Candace, spread-eagle, covering the opening with her blouse. She had been in the building and heard the alarm, which had been set off by the window being broken, and she had gone directly to the lab. “I’d bet against it.”
Gabby crawled out of bed, shrugged into a robe, and walked to the window, facing the front of the house. The rumble of a large truck rolling down the street vibrated the walls. It passed by the window. One of Carl Blake’s trucks, spraying Area Three.
A chill crawled up Max’s backbone, and Gabby instinctively rubbed at her arms. She had the feeling, too.
Operatives’ instincts were honed. They had to be to survive. One of them could be getting a false reading and be overreacting to an intense warning, but not both of them. The commander finished his update, Max briefed him on word from the Silver Spoon he’d gotten from Erickson, Candace, and Elizabeth, and then added, “I’ll report in as soon as we’ve got something solid, sir.”
“Well, move your ass. I’ve pulled operatives off active missions across the country and put them on this, bodies are piling up everywhere, and our underbelly is still exposed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Conlee paused, then his voice dropped lethally low. “Did you say ‘we’ have something solid? We?”
Pretending not to have heard Conlee, Max grimaced and hung up the phone. That was a rookie slip. Gibson was a trainee and he wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.
Brad Gibson wasn’t sidetracked by a lot of emotions, either. Or worried that the Gabby he had fallen head over heels for would recover her memory and recall that she didn’t love him. That he was just her friend.
Max tossed back the covers, thoroughly disgusted with himself for getting that close. But, he had been in trouble with her a long time before coming to the Cove. What she thought mattered. It always mattered. That’s why her lack of faith in him and his ability to do his job rubbed him so raw. Since he couldn’t deny it without lying to himself, he jerked on a pair of khaki slacks and reached for a shirt.
“I’m supposed to be dead.” Gabby stood statue still, her back stiff against the bronze drapes. She folded her arms over her chest and held them tightly against her body, restraining herself by sheer force of will. “That’s why you were shushing me. I’m sup
posed to be dead.”
Max pulled a black shirt over his head and tugged it down, then met her gaze, steeling himself against the pain he saw there. “Yes.”
He still felt it, even though relief that he hadn’t lied to her shone in her eyes. “Where does Dr. Richardson think the victims contracted the infection?”
“Are you remembering, or going by what I told you?”
“I don’t know.” She grabbed a pair of jeans and a top from the closet. “Does it matter?”
“It could.” He watched her pull on the jeans and then a soft blue blouse that clung to her breasts. “Do you remember the evidence? What or where it is?”
She hesitated while buttoning the blouse and thought a moment, and then zipped her jeans shut. “I don’t.” That brought obvious frustration, and she dug through the closet for a pair of white sneakers. Pulling them out, she repeated her original question. “Where does Dr. Richardson think the victims contracted the infection?”
“They don’t think it’s the spray, Gabby. Commander Conlee says it tested clean.”
“My gut says it isn’t. You saw Candace and so did I. Mosquitoes escaped, yes, but not enough to cause this many infections this fast. Dissemination would take longer, Max.”
Now the relief felt was his. “I agree with you.”
“Then let’s prove we’re right.”
“How?”
Gabby walked over to the nightstand, picked up the phone, and dialed.
A woman answered in sleep-fogged mumble. “Who died?”
“No one’s died, Candace.”
“Then why in God’s name are you calling me at the crack of dawn? I just got to sleep.”
Gabby glanced at the bedside clock—seven o’clock. “You’ve slept an hour, and I need help now.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She sounded alert now. “Is it Max?”
“We’re great.” Someone was talking in the background. Keith, Gabby supposed. “But there is trouble.” She licked at her lips. “Listen, there are about forty victims at the hospital diagnosed with EEE.”
“Oh, God, Gabby!” Candace was wide awake now and horrified into shouting. “Tell me it’s not from the lab. Please!”
Gabby put the receiver back close to her ear. “I don’t believe it is. But some disagree. That’s why I’m calling. I need information, and I can’t get it through my usual sources without revealing more than I want to reveal.”
“What do you need?”
“Addresses on those patients.”
“Elizabeth’s on the hospital board. But she’d have to go through channels.”
“I’d rather not do that.”
“Then you’re on Miranda’s turf. She can do anything with computers.”
“Without getting caught?” Gabby stared at Max, who looked extremely skeptical if not downright disturbed by what she was doing. “If she gets caught, we tip our hand and the bad guys win, Candace. That means all of us lose in a big way.”
“Define all of us.”
Gabby cut to the chase. “The people of Carnel Cove, within months, the people of the United States, and of course, the government.”
“Wow. That’s big. I knew it, but hearing it—”
“It’s huge,” Gabby interrupted. “Can Miranda do this without getting caught?”
“Sure.”
“Are you positive? This is not the time to be overconfident.”
Candace paused, and then asked an amazing question. “Are you on a secure phone?”
Startled, Gabby pulled the receiver away from her ear, looked at it as if it were alien, and then put it back. Did she answer honestly? She shouldn’t. But could she afford to lie? “I don’t know.”
“For God’s sake. Ask Max.”
Gabby covered the receiver with her hand. “Candace wants to know if this phone is secure.”
Max sat up, worried at his lip for a second, and rubbed at his arm above the bandage Keith had put on his arm. “Tell her, yes.”
Gabby sent him an “are you nuts” look.
“I ran a check on it,” he assured her. “Tell her, Gabby.”
Extremely uneasy, Gabby uncovered the phone. “He says yes.”
“Okay.” Candace took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, sending static through the phone. “Gabby, you don’t really know who you’re dealing with, darling. Over a year ago, Commander Conlee hired Miranda as a subject matter expert.”
“What?” Gabby couldn’t believe it. “Why?”
Max walked over to her, hiking his brows. “What is it?”
She waved a hand to shush him, confused and in knots. Should she relay that stunner or not? How would Max react to it?
“Because Miranda kept showing him how easy it was to breach the Department of Defense’s secure systems,” Candace said. “She was all over the place in areas classified way above Top Secret, and never left the first footprint. He puts in a new security measure. She breaks it. That’s what she does. Breaks his systems to show him where they’re vulnerable.”
“Wow.”
“You knew she was good at that stuff.”
“This is a little more than good, Candace.”
“What is?” Max asked.
“Shh, I’ll tell you in a minute.” Gabby had decided.
“I’m sure this will be a cakewalk for her.”
She had to think. This was serious stuff. “It’s illegal as hell,” Gabby warned. “If she gets caught, she’ll go to jail, and from what Max has told me, the commander won’t lift a finger to help her. Make sure she knows that.”
“That brings risks that complicate things, but I’ll tell her. Don’t hold your breath though, Gabby. Only one person is more terrified of jail than Miranda, and that’s Elizabeth.”
Being a judge’s wife, Gabby could certainly understand that. “Do we have an alternate?”
“Sure. Darlene Coulter.”
Max caught the name and rolled his eyes heavenward. “The sheriff’s wife?”
“Tell Max to stop freaking out. Darlene is the head of the Sunshine Committee at church. She always checks on patients to send them cards and flowers and such.”
“Try her first, then.” No felonies. Gabby smiled. “Tell her I need the info fast, okay?”
Candace’s tone changed significantly, somber and serious, etched with fear and regret. “Innocent people are going to die, aren’t they?”
Gabby swallowed a hard lump lodged in her throat. “I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll call Darlene now.”
“Thanks.” Gabby put down the receiver and faced a glowering Max.
“You realize we just signed their death warrants,” Max said. “They’re friends—good friends to both of us—and because of the position we’ve put them in, Conlee will cancel them.”
“No, actually, he won’t, but I love this compassionate side of you, Max.” She stroked his face. “Apparently Miranda already works for Conlee. Candace does, too, through Logan Industries, and I strongly suspect Elizabeth might have been brought on board since William died in February.”
“She told me Conlee was no stranger to her,” Max said. “But how can that be?” The training was exhaustive, and none of them had crossed the doors of SDU at Home Base headquarters; Max would bet his career on that.
“Subject matter experts,” Gabby told him. “Candace said Commander Conlee hired Miranda to breach SDU’s security systems. She’s a computer guru with amazing skills. How would Candace know that unless she worked for SDU, too? Conlee wouldn’t let Miranda advertise it; he cancels people for that, right? And you said I killed a Global Warrior and Elizabeth removed all evidence from the garage. How did she know how to do that? Being married to a judge might help her learn to examine evidence, but not to sanitize a crime scene.”
“You think all the ladies of Carnel Cove are SDU subject matter experts?”
“Maybe.” Gabby cocked her head. “Or it could be a ploy.”
“Candace, Elizabeth, and Miranda?” Righ
t now, Max could use a stiff drink. “I don’t buy the ploy. Not after all they’ve done. They’re sincere, Gabby, and totally devoted to you. Elizabeth threatened to shoot me if I harmed a hair on your head.”
“Elizabeth? Now that’s a shocker.”
“I swear,” Max said. “She had a thirty-eight in one hand and her little rosary bag in the other.” Her jaw gaped, and Max nodded, confirming his claim. “I’m sure if they’re in, Paige is, too. Her special skills could be really helpful to Conlee.”
“He wouldn’t blink before factoring empath consultations into his decision making,” Max said, shifting his sore shoulder. “And Darlene Coulter, too. Married to the sheriff, working in his office. She has an inside line to everything going on in the Cove.”
Gabby walked to the bedroom door. “But not Sissy Blake. The ladies would never agree to trust her.”
All fluff and no substance. “Elizabeth told me.” The truth hit Max right between the eyes. “Gabby, do you think Conlee recruited the ladies and created a special SDU cell here?”
“Would any seasoned operative call it differently?” She went into the hallway and, realizing she couldn’t remember being an operative, seasoned or otherwise, she yelled back at him, “Don’t answer that. In the mornings, I need coffee before criticism.”
Max was having trouble taking it all in. He sat on the edge of the bed and mulled it over. Conlee always had operated on a “need-to-know” basis. He always had used subject matter experts—Max had conferred with them on many occasions. But an entire cell of them? Why would he have an entire cell, especially in a small tourist town like Carnel Cove?
Home Base. The truth hit Max like a sledgehammer. Because of the recent missile crisis, Conlee had to move Home Base out of Washington to a less densely populated area. He was moving Home Base’s headquarters to Carnel Cove.
Suddenly it all made sense. Conlee would need contacts here. A physical site. Logan Industries had four sub-levels, two of which were currently under construction. It was already doing government contracts, so it had security clearance, and so did Candace and Miranda. Elizabeth obviously had known about SDU through William, so she was a natural insider. That left only Paige. The empath supposedly so talented she often assisted on challenging cases—probably Conlee’s cases. And Conlee had said he’d investigated them on another matter.