She looked in her rearview mirror, expecting to see Bran watching her, but he’d gone inside. A couple of cars cruised out of the lot behind her.
She sighed and slid her fingers underneath her ponytail to rub at her neck. Probably just a warning that I should kiss my heart goodbye.
Chapter Eight
As soon as he got inside, Bran hurried upstairs to his laptop computer. He had run the partial Maine plate he’d gotten from the silver two-door through a couple of databases. Having friends in law enforcement all over the coast had its perks, but the search yielded nothing. The make of the car was laughably common. The partial plate showed up nowhere. Not that he’d expected much. A fraud this smart wouldn’t be holding up neon signs saying Come catch me.
He fidgeted, waiting for his computer to boot up. If he caught this guy…no, when he caught this guy…he’d be heading home to Kentucky.
Bran had never been taken for a sentimental sap, but he wasn’t a caveman, either. He’d seen a few romantic movies. Heck, hadn’t he just read part of a romance novel? But his buy-in ended at love at first sight. It was flat-out impossible to fall head over heels into lifelong adoration with someone you’d just met.
Wasn’t it?
He thought about going back to Sang Freud and having a talk with Carlos. The guy seemed to know human nature. He certainly knew Jenna…liked her, even. Nope. Too biased.
Under his attraction to Jenna lingered a more serious reason he hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight. Obsidian must know by now that Bran had some sort of relationship with her. It wasn’t likely that he’d hurt her physically—unless he was cornered—but Bran’s early experience in homicide had taught him to leave nothing to chance.
His E-mail chimed with a new message just as his cell rang. Bran opened the message as he pressed the “Answer” button on his phone. “Rudy. What’s up?”
“Forensics pulled some data off that burn phone you overnighted to us. There was only one other call made on it, from a location in Acadia National Park. We almost missed it because he rerouted it so much. Cell phone connections suck up there, by the way. Took me a while to pinpoint the signal.”
Bran skimmed the E-mail as Rudy spoke—a map showing the origin of the call made to the burn phone. Rudy complained about Bran’s obsession with Obsidian, but he’d worked fast. Clearly, he wanted this unsub gone, too.
Attached to the E-mail were files of numbers, dollar amounts that gave Bran’s Spidey sense the creeps. “He might be hiding out in Acadia,” Bran murmured.
But why would Obsidian plant that phone for Bran to find? It couldn’t just be that he wanted to flush Bran out and identify his pursuer. Criminals got a charge out of taunting their hunters. If that son of a bitch is playing with me after all this time…
Rudy broke into his speculation. “Don’t go on the warpath yet, Cuddy. We’ve got a problem.”
“Yeah?”
“This guy’s never spent more than a few months in one place. I checked in with the Morgan Bank and all the money transfer outlets in town. Based on what I’m seeing, our black hat’s about to skip town again.”
Bran swore so loudly he heard Rudy flinch. “I gotta go, Ru. I gotta put this guy down before he gets away again. Keep me posted if so much as a dollar goes missing.”
“On it.”
Bran shoved his cell in his pocket, then grabbed his ball cap and leaped for the door. “All right, I’ll play,” he said aloud, “but it’s gonna be a real short game.”
****
Bar Harbor was roughly a ten-minute drive from Lobster Cove. Jenna had always thought it a slightly more “turbo” version of her hometown. Normally, the comparative hustle and bustle of the bigger town drew her out of broody thoughts.
Not this time.
She collected what she needed from the quilt shop and a few last-minute grocery items for the upcoming Lobster Crawl. Maggie could never have enough ingredients for the diner’s famous lobster burgers. By the time Jenna left Bar Harbor, it was much later than she’d realized. Trying to get her mind off Bran, she’d lingered until the grocery store closed.
It hadn’t helped.
On the way home, she took a roundabout route that looped through a pretty stretch of woods skirting the park. Being up a little later wouldn’t hurt, and the starry sky peeking through the trees soothed her glum humor.
She sang along with her radio until it played a song about a break-up. She switched the station, only to get a song about a woman so happy in love that it made her envious. Jenna switched off the radio.
Was it stupid to be so hooked on a man who’d just come to town mere days ago? What hope did they have when he’d only walk back out of her life? What hope did she have, without knowing if he even wanted a long-term relationship? She knew the logical reasoning, but she couldn’t get her heart to listen.
And this, she thought ruefully, is why I don’t take chances.
At a break in the trees that offered a view of the water, she stopped the car to admire the sky. Away from the towns, she could see every tiny star. The Milky Way dusted the heavens, and the cooling ocean breeze swirled through her open car window. She inhaled it deep into her lungs, wondering how anyone who lived in a big city could breathe. Far off, she caught the faint whoot of a fog horn.
Maybe Bran had his own kind of peace in Lexington.
Maybe she should stop wishing, and ask him to stay a while and see what happened.
It had been a week for chances. Without them, life wouldn’t—couldn’t—change. All right, she told herself. She smiled at her reflection in the rearview mirror. This is the new Jenna Sanborn. She turned the key in the ignition.
Nothing happened.
With a soft groan, she tried again. Still no reponse—not even a tired grumble from the engine. “Oh, don’t do this now.” By the time she got home, unloaded groceries, and took a shower, she’d have an hour of sleep—maybe—before getting up early to set up for the Crawl’s first night of celebrations.
She sighed and dug out her cell phone, thinking of her bank account. She doubted what little she had in there would be enough for whatever her car needed. The mechanic had taken pity on her the last couple of times she’d had the car in to Jay’s Automotive to be looked at, but she couldn’t expect him to keep extending her that courtesy.
It was late, but not so late that she couldn’t call Bobbie for a lift. Hopeful, she dialed Bobbie’s cell. She let it ring several times before it went to voicemail. Bobbie’s cheerful recorded greeting boosted her spirits, and she left a message asking for a return call.
After that, she tried Sally. No answer there. Jenna smiled a little. No doubt, her coworker was out on the town getting into the spirit of the Lobster Crawl festivities a day early.
Jill and Maggie would be far too busy tonight preparing for tomorrow, and she refused to wake her parents. I think, instead of the spa day they always get me for Christmas, I’ll ask them for a roadside assistance plan instead.
Super. Nothing like hindsight to improve one’s mood. She leaned back and stared out at the glimmering stars.
She could call Bran. He’d helped her before. And he’d said anytime.
Fisting her hands against her face, Jenna groaned loudly. “Make up your mind!” She had no trouble setting a rude customer tactfully in his place…but when it came to Bran, she felt like a fumbling preteen.
She dared another look at herself in the rearview. “Okay. New Jenna Sanborn. New Jenna Sanborn.” She took a breath and punched the numbers.
He picked up almost before the first ring finished. “Cudahy.”
“Bran?”
“Hey, Tink.” His voice warmed, as inviting as decadent fudge sauce. “You’re up late.”
“That’s the problem,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you…”
“Bother me anytime,” he said. “What’s up?”
“My car broke down again.”
His chuckle surprised her. “Your car likes me, doesn’t it?”
“Hey! I didn’t call you so you could poke fun,” she scolded.
“All right, all right. Where are you? I’ll be right there.”
She gave him directions and settled in to wait, grateful she hadn’t bought any perishables.
Gazing at the starry sky, she hardly noticed the passage of time until a car pulled in beside her. Thinking it was Bran, she opened her door.
But the car was paler than Bran’s light-blue vehicle. Come to think of it, it was the wrong make, too. This was a two-door.
The driver parked, then got out.
Young, she thought, seeing him. He couldn’t have been much older than his mid-twenties. Then she recognized him as the man who’d ordered a lobster burger at the end of her shift at Maggie’s. “Need a jump start?”
“I could use one, yeah,” she said.
“No problem.” The young man opened his trunk then emerged with a set of jumper cables. “Can you pop your hood?”
She pressed the release, and he rounded the front end of her car.
He slid a hand under the edge of the hood. “Try again. I think the hood release is stuck.”
She did so, with the same result, and stifled another groan. Would everything go on this car until it was just a heap of non-functioning metal decorating a roadside? Frustrated, she dug around in her glove compartment for a screwdriver to jimmy the hood latch, and then she got out. “I’m sorry,” she said as she reached him. “This car is a curse on tires.”
The young man reached out. Even before she thought to react, something pierced her neck. Jenna gasped at the sudden snap of pain, and then her legs wouldn’t hold her.
Falling, falling, forever falling. Her stomach swooped. As she slid into unconsciousness, she heard the man talking: “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I just need him to leave me alone…”
Chapter Nine
As soon as he saw the silver two-door vehicle beside Jenna’s car, Bran swore and reeled his vehicle onto the shoulder. He slammed on the brakes, then rushed to her car with his adrenaline pumping furiously. “Jenna?”
On the ground beside her car’s front end were a screwdriver and a syringe.
Oh, God, Jenna, he thought, scanning the area even as he dialed local police.
A stretch of trees loomed across the road, outlined in starlight. He bolted for them as he called in a car from the police department. After that, he called Rudy. “Situation, Ru.”
“You flushed him out,” Rudy guessed.
“He flushed me,” Bran corrected, fuming. “And like an amateur, I fell for it. I called in the LCPD.”
“Sit tight,” Rudy said. “I have your cell signal and location. I’ll make some calls. You carrying?”
“No.”
“Don’t be a hero, Cuddy. Not without your piece.”
“I’ll be fine. He’s got a—” What was Jenna to him? Friend wasn’t enough. “He has a local woman,” Bran blurted, unwilling to admit just how much she meant because the extent of it shocked him.
“Gotta go, Ru,” he said.
“Cuddy!” Rudy protested, but Branson ended the call. He shoved his cell into his pocket, still jogging as he reached the trees.
Shadows clung thickly under the branches. The distant sound of the ocean reached him. The scents of pines and damp earth lingered heavily in the air. He padded through the trees, his tread muffled by a layer of dead leaves and dropped pine needles. He’d never wished more that he had his gun. What if Obsidian had tired of cyber crime and moved on to other arenas?
Soon, he was so far into the woods it was nearly black under the tree canopy. He resisted the urge to call for her again, not wanting to give away his position. Damn good thing he’d been a boxing champ while on the force. He just hoped he still had his chops.
Which might not help him if Obsidian had decided to pack a gun, himself.
He squinted into the leaf mold, looking for any tracks left by Jenna or Obsidian. Tuned to the slightest sound, he caught the rustle and crack of breaking branches. He headed toward it in a silent, military-style scurry. Seconds passed, broken only by the tread of his feet, and then he reached a break in the trees.
The sight of Jenna, tied hand and foot with what looked like jumper cables, and with a rag stuffed in her mouth, froze his blood into ice. She huddled at the base of a tree. He rushed toward her.
Her eyes widened, and she gave a muffled cry.
Something heavy thudded across Bran’s back. His breath exploded from his lungs on a blast of pain. Coughing, he rounded on his attacker.
A kid. He’s just a damned kid. Astonishment drew him up short.
The kid swung his branch like a bat. “You couldn’t leave me alone!” he shouted. “You just couldn’t leave me alone!”
Bran’s gaze went everywhere: hair, face, height, body type, clothing, weapon. No gun, just the branch. His early training in homicide ticked it all off and filed it away, even as he angled to get himself between the kid and Jenna. This was the hacker who’d been terrorizing financial institutions all along the coast for six years?
He swung the branch again, wild-eyed. Wind whooshed with the force of the swing.
“Whoa, kid,” Bran said. “Hold on. Just tell me what this is about,” he said as calmly as possible, holding his hands palm-downward and outspread to show he carried no firearms.
“Just back off!” the kid said.
Bran risked a glance at Jenna. She appeared unhurt. “Listen,” he said to the kid as he hovered protectively in front of Jenna, “it’s gonna be okay. You haven’t hurt anyone yet. You don’t want to go there.”
The kid’s voice shook. “Just go!” he screamed, and then he swung the branch again.
Bran ducked the swing and rushed the kid, whose slighter body reeled backward under their combined force, but the kid was tougher than he looked. He dropped the branch, and his fists began battering Bran’s ribs.
Still winded by the blow with the branch, Bran huffed and struggled for air. He clenched his belly against the punches and threw a volley of his own. Kid hits like a tank.
He was damned quick, too. Every time Bran angled for a headlock or a restraining grip, the kid wormed out of it and went on trading punches. Bran realized that sheer panic was driving him.
Moreover, he got the shock of his life when he found the kid sobbing. “She’s gonna die, she’s gonna die, and it’s all your fault!” The kid kicked out violently and caught Bran in the knee.
Pain slammed down on his leg like a hammer. A scream tore out of Bran’s lungs, and he tumbled back clutching his knee. The kid scrambled to his feet, and Bran tried like hell to get back up…but not before the kid jerked something out of his pocket that looked like an inhaler, then sprayed it into Bran’s face.
Still wrestling for air, Bran had no choice but to breathe in. He caught a fishy whiff, and then his throat slammed shut.
Stars spangled his vision, and his lungs tried to push out a swear word that never came. He lay there, writhing with pain and lack of oxygen, scrabbling for the epinephrine pen wedged in his back pocket. Dimly, he saw the kid bolt away. His aching chest heaved, but the air couldn’t get in.
This was it. This was how he was going to die, after almost four years of chasing shadows.
But she’s safe, he thought.
Then Jenna appeared over him, outlined in starlight, half angel and half Fury, more beautiful and terrible than both. She reached her tied hands up to her mouth then ripped the rag free.
“Where is it?” she cried. “Where’s your pen?”
The agony in his knee fired every nerve. He tried to flip over, but his muscles had seized, and he could only manage a sideways shift.
Jenna’s small hands patted his pockets. “Bran, hold on, hold on! Stay with me.” Hampered by her ties, she found the pocket containing his pen, then fumbled it out. “I’ve got it, hang in there!” She uncapped it, and then jabbed it into Bran’s thigh through his jeans.
Forever went by before his throat opened
enough to let in a miserly breath of air. He sucked in as much as he could get.
“He’s getting away,” she exclaimed, lurching to her still-bound feet.
Alarm poured through him, burning up what little oxygen he had. “Don’t,” he croaked, rolling to get up. He no longer cared if Obsidian got away, as long as Jenna didn’t leave his sight. Bran managed to get upright, and he pulled her to his side.
“You shouldn’t be standing. Sit down,” she protested.
Air finally reached the bottom of his lungs. “No,” he said, his voice as gritty as gravel. He pulled at the knot binding her hands. “You’re what matters.”
She turned to him with such a brilliant smile he had to return it in spite of his aching lungs and aching knee. Balancing on his good leg, he put his arms around her, making sure she was all right.
“You’re one hell of a woman, Jenna Sanborn. Enough to make a man give up horse country and stick around a while.”
She gasped, and her eyes went wide. “Really?”
His pain receded in the face of her obvious delight. “Really. You think I’m gonna duck out on a woman who just saved my life?”
Lights flashed through the trees. “Cudahy?” shouted a voice. “Branson Cudahy!”
“We’re here!” Jenna called.
Moments later, a pair of police officers wound toward them through the trees, carrying drawn firearms and flashlights. The one nearest them, a tall man in maybe his late twenties, called, “Nate Harris, Lobster Cove Police Department. We’ve got your suspect, Cudahy.”
Relief flowed through him like an incoming tide. Nearly four years, he’d been awaiting this catch.
He glanced from the officers to Jenna.
And what a prize.
Epilogue
Fireworks burst overhead, reflected in the calm waters of the cove. Jenna felt like bursting, herself. So much had happened in the past week, she hadn’t stopped spinning from the whirlwind of it. The ongoing celebration of the Lobster Crawl bustled around her, but it couldn’t match the excitement that filled her from her toes up.
Heavy Netting Page 7