by Gerri Hill
“Yes, that’s where they have her. That’s where they’ve been holding Mrs. Michaels as well.”
“Holding her how?”
“She’s heavily sedated. She’s only been allowed to regain semiconsciousness once in the last several days.” He turned, motioning for them to follow. “My loyalties to the senator go only so far. When I fear their lives are in danger—Sara’s and Mrs. Michaels’— then it’s time for me to act. To think I was willing to call the local police after the way he spoke to Sara when he dismissed me—” He stopped, pulling out a key card which he swiped. The walls opened up, revealing a dimly lit staircase going down into the bunker.
“What do you mean?” Jaime asked.
“Something’s just not right. Miss Sara had a look of pure terror on her face when I left her with them. Perhaps she was afraid she’d end up like her mother. Perhaps it was something else.”
He started to precede them down the stairs, but Jaime stopped him with a hand on his arm. She pulled her weapon, Erickson and Fielding doing the same.
“Stay behind us.”
“Hutchinson, don’t go cowboy on us,” Erickson warned.
“At the bottom of stairs is a hallway. The living quarters are to the left. The main complex, along with the offices, is to the right,” Arthur explained.
“Where were they when you left?”
“They were still in Mrs. Michaels’ suite,” he said quietly as they crept down the stairs. “There’s been a staff member staying with her. Mrs. Reynolds. She’s been administering the medication. She may be in the room or he may have dismissed her as well.”
“Do you have any influence over her?” Erickson asked.
“No. She was hired by the senator. She reports directly to him.”
Jaime leaned against the wall when Erickson touched her arm, silently telling her they would go first. She drew her brows together. She hated being outranked. When they passed her, she motioned for Arthur to follow then she took up the rear, watching their back.
“The next door down,” Arthur whispered loudly. “It’s closed now. I would assume they’ve left.”
Erickson and Fielding each flanked the door. Jaime tugged on Arthur’s arm, moving him behind her and up against the wall. She took her position in front of the door, weapon pointed. Erickson held up two fingers then silently counted before turning the knob. It was locked.
Before Fielding could lift his leg to break it, Arthur stepped forward and grabbed his arm.
“I have a key.”
“Well, that’d just be too simple,” Jaime murmured, watching Erickson snatch the key from Arthur’s hand.
The room was empty but the bed was not. Jaime assumed it was Mrs. Michaels who lay there. The woman’s skin was pale, ghostly. Arthur went to her immediately, touching her cheek, then bending low, listening.
“Very shallow breathing,” he said. He reached over, fingering the IV drip, then pulled it out of her hand. Blood pooled where the needle had been and he covered her hand with the sheet.
“Should you do that?” Jaime asked.
“That’s how they’ve been keeping her sedated. Through the IV,” he explained.
“Why in the world would they do this?” Fielding asked. “She’s like a prisoner in her own home.”
“She saw or heard something she shouldn’t have,” Jaime guessed. “Why else?”
“I agree,” Erickson said. “Fielding, call it in. Let the local police know the situation. And get an ambulance out here,” he added. He then turned to Arthur. “Tell us about this bunker. Where could they have taken Sara Michaels?”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Peter paced in his office as Dodds and Ramsey discussed— argued—the situation. He wanted Ramsey to take Sara away and he didn’t want to know what happened. Just like Dodds had done all those years ago with Joyce’s affair. He handled it and Peter didn’t know the details. A car accident was a car accident.
But no, Dodds didn’t want that. He wanted to keep Sara hostage awhile, a day or two, just in case something went wrong. Peter took a deep breath. As if their hired assassin getting killed wasn’t cause enough for alarm.
And Ramsey, Ramsey wanted to kill her right here in the bunker and dispose of her body tonight. His plan was to drive her out to Dodds’ ranch in the plains and burn her. Peter shuddered at the thought.
“I’m telling you, a murder is too risky. It’s got to be an accident,” Dodds insisted.
“Then we do them both at the same time,” Ramsey said.
Peter stopped pacing. “Both?”
“Peter, we can’t take a chance with Joyce. You know that.” Dodds smiled. “Besides, having both your wife and only child killed will generate more sympathy from voters than we could ever imagine.”
“Talk about risky, Dodds. I think that’s going too far.”
“As I said earlier Peter, it’s no longer your call.”
“How do you propose to stage an accident for both of them?”
“A car accident appears to be the easiest,” he said. “Of course we’ll need a driver. Which of your men are you willing to sacrifice, Peter? I think this would be a good opportunity to get rid of Arthur.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
“We can’t very well have Sara drive, now can we? And it’ll be days before Joyce is coherent enough to get behind the wheel. We rig the brakes, just like before. Have Arthur drive them to your cabin in Woodland Park for a short vacation after Sara’s ordeal. Halfway up the pass, the brakes will fail while taking one of the sharp curves, sending them into the ravine. Unfortunately, a faulty gas tank that’s been leaking will cause an awful explosion.” He turned to Ramsey. “You can make that work, can’t you?”
“Of course.”
Peter stood in disbelief as they planned the murder of his wife and Sara. And Arthur. He wasn’t concerned with Sara. He had no feelings there. And Arthur, well, he’d served his purpose. But Joyce—despite her affair in the early years of their marriage—he still had great feelings of affection for her. The blinding love he’d felt at the beginning had been doused by her affair but he’d gotten past it. Their marriage was not perfect but they worked well together. And of course, the media loved Joyce. The fact that he’d managed to keep his own affairs secret over the years was simply an added bonus. He was roused from his musings by the ringing of his cell.
“What is it, O’Riley?” His brows drew together as he listened. “They what?” He flicked his gaze to Dodds. “Very well. I’m sure they’re down here now. Thank you, O’Riley.”
“What is it?”
“The FBI came back. Arthur let them inside. They wanted to see Sara again.”
Dodds whipped around, his eyes going to the door. Then he glanced at Ramsey.
“Get her. Now.”
“This place is like a maze,” Arthur said as he led them down yet another hallway. He pointed to a set of double doors to their right. “Control room.”
“Control room? What is this, a spaceship or something?” Jaime asked.
“Well, you almost have to be a rocket scientist to understand all the controls in there. For the power source, air quality, vent lock-down in case of a breach. Things like that.”
“Crazy,” she muttered.
He stopped when they reached another set of doors. “The offices are in this wing,” he said. “I’m sure this is where they are.”
“Do you think they’re armed?” Erickson asked.
Arthur shook his head. “Not the senator, no. And I wouldn’t think Mr. Dodds would have a gun.” He shrugged. “But Ramsey, I never did trust him. If anyone’s got a gun, it’s him.”
“Okay, Arthur. I want you to go back and check on Mrs. Michaels, then wait for the police. And make sure no one comes down here.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I know my way around down here.”
“You did a good job, Arthur,” Jaime said. “But we don’t want to take a chance on something happening to you. Besides, don’
t want you losing your job, man.”
He nodded. “Okay. Okay sure. I’ll go sit with Mrs. Michaels then.”
As soon as Arthur was out of earshot, Fielding laughed. “He looked like he was about to piss his pants.”
“Can you blame him? He probably feels like he’s in a Hitchcock movie.”
Before they went inside, Erickson stopped them. “Remember, this is our show, Hutchinson. You’re just along for the ride. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“You guys want to take the senator down, go ahead. I’m just here to get Sara.”
Once inside the hallway, Jaime felt a chill. She wasn’t sure if it was the air temperature, which felt to be in the fifties, or simply the shroud of dread that settled over her. The only sound was the air that hummed through the vents overhead. She realized how unnaturally quiet it was.
Then suddenly, down the hall in another area, they heard the clicking of a door as it was unlocked. They all looked at each other then increased their steps as they quietly moved down the hallway.
Jaime heard muffled voices and tilted her head. Sara. She tensed, ready to run but Erickson held up his hand.
“Listen,” he whispered.
“Let go of me, you bastard!”
“Shut the fuck up. Now come on.”
Jaime moved forward, ignoring Erickson. “Sara!” she screamed. “Sara!”
“Jaime? Oh my God! Jaime! I’m here!”
“Shut the fuck up!”
The sound of a fist hitting a face brought them all running down the hall. They skidded around the corner blindly, in time to see another door close in their faces.
“Goddamn,” Jaime murmured. She reached for the door knob, but it was locked. “Fuck!”
“Stand back,” Erickson instructed. “We’ll shoot it opened.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Jaime said. “We don’t know what’s on the other side of this door. You could shoot Sara. Hell, you could shoot the senator.”
“You got a better idea?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” From one of her back pockets she produced a key card. She held it up and grinned. “Swiped it from Arthur.”
He nodded. “Okay. On three.”
He held up his fingers, silently counting. On three, Jaime inserted the key card. As soon as they heard the distinctive click, Erickson threw the door open.
Sara screamed then was silenced by a hand over her mouth and a gun pressed to her head. Ramsey held her tight as he moved closer to the other two men. The senator’s eyes were wide. The other man—Dodds—moved away from Ramsey, distancing himself. All three held their weapons on Ramsey, the only one with a gun.
“Drop the gun, Ramsey,” Erickson instructed calmly. “No one needs to get hurt here.”
“Shut up,” he snapped.
He looked at Dodds, as if for help, but Dodds moved away, clutching the senator’s arm.
“We’re so thankful you’re here. He’s been like a madman,” Dodds said.
Jaime frowned. What the hell? Then she looked at Sara, met her frantic eyes. Sara glanced at her father and Dodds, fear showing in her eyes. Jaime took a deep breath then stepped forward, pointing her gun at Ramsey’s head.
“Let her go.”
“Get back, Detective. I swear to God I’ll shoot her.”
“You’re not going to shoot her,” Jaime said. “For one thing, you’ll be dead half a second later.” She chanced a glance at the senator. “And secondly, if you shoot her, you’ll be doing them a great favor.”
Ramsey’s eyes widened, doubt showing for the first time.
“Their original plan to kill Sara would be accomplished,” she said reasonably. “Then we shoot you.” She shrugged. “You take the fall. These guys get charged with nothing. Hell, he might even be elected president.”
“What are you talking about?” Dodds demanded. “That’s just crazy. We’ve done nothing. He burst in here with Sara—”
“Shut up!” Ramsey screamed, his gun moving from Sara to Dodds. “I’m not taking the fall. This was all your idea. I had nothing to do with it,” he yelled.
“Somebody do something! He’s holding my daughter!” the senator said loudly, speaking for the first time.
Sara closed her eyes, then opened them, finding Jaime. She shook her head, telling Jaime all she needed to know.
“Come on, Senator. You don’t expect us to believe that Ramsey here thought all this up on his own, do you? I mean, hell, he showed up with an FBI badge, instructing me to follow Sara here. For protection,” she added sarcastically. “He had some lovely pictures of Sara and your wife. Even of you. They looked like family photos, actually. Like maybe you supplied them to him when he was putting together the little file he had about these alleged death threats.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are but you don’t speak to me that way.” He turned to Erickson. “You. You’re FBI. Arrest this man,” he demanded.
“Kinda hard to do, seeing as how he’s got a gun pointed at you, Senator.”
Ramsey finally moved his hand, freeing Sara’s mouth. His gun alternated between Dodds and the senator.
“Tell them,” he said. “Tell them what’s going on.”
Before Sara could speak, Dodds stepped forward. “Stop this nonsense, Ramsey. Put the gun down. Let’s end this.”
“You’re not getting away with this, Dodds,” Sara said. “They did it. They tried to have me killed. Their plan, their idea. Ramsey is just hired help.”
“Sara, think about what you’re saying,” the senator said, his hands outstretched. “I’m your father. I would never try to kill you.”
“You bastard,” Sara whispered. “You’re not talking your way out of this one, Senator.”
“Put the gun down, Mr. Ramsey,” Erickson said. “We’ll work this out. No bloodshed.”
“I’m not taking the fall,” he said again. “I was just following orders.”
“I understand. Now let her go. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Ramsey shook his head. “No. No. He’s got a gun.”
“He who?”
Jaime’s eyes widened as Dodds reached inside his suit coat. “Gun!” she yelled. As soon as Dodds pulled the trigger, all three fired, knocking him back against the desk and over it. Ramsey and Sara were in a heap on the floor. Jaime ran to them, her heart stopping when she saw blood on Sara’s shirt.
“Oh, God. Don’t move,” she said quietly. “Don’t move, sweetheart.”
Sara’s eyes fluttered open. “I don’t feel anything,” she whispered.
“I know. That happens. Help is on the way.” Jaime gripped Sara’s hand hard. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Jaime, I mean I don’t feel anything,” she said again as she tried to sit up. “I don’t think it’s my blood.”
“Oh Jesus. Are you sure?” Jaime gently lifted her shirt, revealing smooth, unblemished skin. Jaime closed her eyes. “Thank God.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Come here. Let’s see about Ramsey.”
Sara moved, looking down at the man who had most likely saved her life. His shirt was covered with blood and his hand was pressed to his upper chest.
“It was all their plan,” he whispered hoarsely.
Sara nodded. “I know.” She tilted her head. “But you had the gun.”
“Dodds?”
“He’s dead, man,” Jaime said. “How bad are you?”
“He got me up high. Been hit worse.”
“He was aiming at me,” Sara stated.
“Yeah. Kill you, then it’s their word against poor Ramsey here.” Jaime took a pocketknife out and cut part of Ramsey’s coat. “Here, hold this on the wound. It’ll help with the bleeding.”
Sara watched them then moved her eyes to her father. No, the senator, she corrected. He was sitting dazed in one of the oversized visitor’s chairs beside his desk. His eyes wide, he simply stared at Dodds’ body which lay in an unnatural heap behind his desk. Erickson and Fielding were both on t
heir phones, talking frantically.
Trying to find out how to spin all this, no doubt. Well, no amount of spin and damage control could possibly get the senator out of this mess. She’d see to it. Not after what he’d done to her mother. She turned.
“Jaime? My mother?”
“Arthur’s with her. Ambulance should be here by now.”
Sara walked over, squeezing Jaime’s arm. “Thank you. Again. For saving my life.”
Jaime smiled. “It’s my job, ma’am,” she said quietly.
“And you do it very well.” Sara let her hand drift to Jaime’s stomach, rubbing lightly, intimately. “I want to go be with my mother. Is that okay?”
“Sure. Go on. It’s going to be awhile before we wrap it up here, anyway.”
Sara glanced one last time at the senator, wondering what in the world he’d been thinking when he concocted this plot. But he never looked at her. His eyes were still fixed on Dodds’.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Sara knocked lightly on the hospital door, then pushed it open. Bright sunshine streamed in through the window, landing softly on her mother. She turned when Sara entered, a smile transforming her face.
“Sara. Come in, darling.”
Sara moved to the bed, taking one of her mother’s hands, feeling warmth that hadn’t been there for the last two days. Her eyes looked clear, alert.
“You’re looking better,” Sara replied before bending to kiss her cheek.
“Still a little groggy but the brain seems to be working again.” She motioned to the chair beside the bed. “Sit. We should talk.”
Sara nodded. “Do you feel up to it?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve put it off long enough.” She sighed. “I watched the local news this morning. They even had him in handcuffs. I can’t imagine his embarrassment. I suppose he wishes he had been killed along with Dodds.”
“I’m just thankful he didn’t weasel his way out of it,” Sara said sharply. Then she squeezed her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry. He’s your husband.”
“He ceased being a husband a long time ago, Sara. Our marriage was simply amicable and convenient. We didn’t argue or fight. I smiled when the cameras were on and said all the right things. But when the doors were closed and the cameras were off, we went our separate ways.”