by Mary Stone
“I do know that. Right now, you’re the only person I do trust, Ellie. But for all we know, Kingsley could be spying on you as we speak too.”
Jillian’s hand flew to her mouth, covering up a tiny gasp while Ellie flinched. Clay balled his hands into fists, wishing he could reach through the phone and slap a piece of duct tape over Gabe’s mouth. The other man wasn’t telling them anything new, but still. Ellie didn’t need the reminder right now.
The skin over Ellie’s knuckles blanched as she clasped her hands even tighter. “How about a burner phone? Do you have enough money to buy a new one?”
“M-maybe? I think so. I’m going to dump this one as soon as we’re done talking, but I’ll contact you if I get a new one.”
“And if you can’t get a new one? What area of the city can we find you in?”
“I’ll figure out a way to contact you somehow.” A prolonged noise blared in the background. A truck driver, Clay guessed, laying on his horn. Gabe waited until the racket stopped before finishing. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll be in touch.”
Gabe cut out, and red letters flashed across the screen. Call ended. Ellie glared at the phone before tossing the device aside and turning to Clay. “We need to book flights to Portland, first thing in the morning.”
Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure—”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Ellie crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at Clay, like she expected him to disagree too.
Clay lifted his hands. “Hey, no argument from me. Let me call Frank back, and then you can call Fortis and let him know what’s going on.”
When she realized he wasn’t going to fight her on this, the belligerence eased from Ellie’s expression, softening the lines of her face. “Okay.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Thanks.”
“I’ve got your back. We’ll find him.”
Clay vowed right then and there to turn his reassurance into reality. He called Frank back and quickly filled the marshal in on their plan. “Yeah, you too. Talk soon.” When he finished, he nodded at Ellie. “You’re up.”
Ellie entered Fortis’s number on her screen and then waited. The phone rang four times before the head detective answered.
“You again?” Fortis groaned. “You’re off the clock now, you know that, right? More important, I’m off the clock. I was just settling in with a Corona and an episode of The Great British Bakeoff, so make it quick.”
Across the table, Jillian snorted and clapped a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle. Even Jacob snickered. Clay couldn’t blame them. Not to stereotype, but he was also struggling to picture the gruff detective cheering on contestants as they sifted flour and assembled baked goods.
“Does that mean there are some homemade cookies in my future? If so, I like chocolate chip.”
At Ellie’s quip, Clay bit his cheek to hold in a laugh. If she was back to giving Fortis the business, then he knew she’d snapped out of her funk. For now.
“Kline…”
Ellie smirked before growing serious. “Right. So, we had a little development this evening. Gabe called. Apparently, Kingsley tracked him down again, so Gabe left the safe house on his own. He doesn’t trust anyone except me, and I can’t say I blame him.”
“Jesus. Okay, start from the beginning and don’t leave out a single detail.”
As Ellie walked Fortis through the last hour, Clay planned ahead. He’d need to let the local FBI office know his itinerary, then give the Portland office a heads-up that they’d be in the area. Then, they needed to come up with a course of action for when they touched down in Oregon. Especially if Gabe wasn’t able to contact them again.
Of course, all of this was dependent on Fortis giving Ellie the okay to go.
If only he’d gotten all the pieces of the task force put in place sooner…
Clay tuned back in, right when she got to the big ask. “I want to fly out to Portland with Clay. We can’t strand Gabe there, with no money and nowhere to go.” The pink flush to her cheeks and stubborn tilt to her chin testified that she was prepared to fight, if necessary.
“You have my blessing to go to Portland, on one condition. Make sure that you attend any and all relevant press conferences and when you do, let everyone know you work for Charleston PD. Can you do that?”
Ellie rolled her eyes at the phone. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Good. Send me your flight details once you’ve booked it. Now, if that’s all, I’m hanging up. No offense, but the only voices I want to hear right now have British accents.”
When the call ended, Jillian burst out laughing. Duke padded over to the table to investigate what all the commotion was about. “I’m sorry, but I would never have guessed in a million years that Fortis was a GBBO super fan.” She turned to study Jacob through narrowed eyes. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you decided to take up baking as a hobby, just saying.”
Duke barked at that precise moment, making all of them laugh. Especially Jillian. “See, even Duke agrees, don’t you, boy?” She scratched behind the shepherd’s triangular ears, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.
Ellie rose from the table and disappeared into her bedroom. She returned with her laptop, plunking it down on the table. “Aisle or window?”
Clay shrugged. “Either. As long as we’re sitting together.”
The dining room filled with the steady tap-tap of her fingers as they flew along the keys. The sound plucked at Clay’s nerves, like a crow pecking at a power line. Sure, Clay worried about Gabe’s safety. Mostly, though, he was uneasy about a trip that might once again lure Ellie closer to Kingsley’s web.
“All set! We fly out at 8:03 a.m.”
When Ellie finished with her laptop, her green eyes blazed, like she was ready to take on the entire world if that was what saving Gabe required.
Clay made a new vow, right then and there. For the duration of the Portland trip, he wasn’t going to let Ellie out of his sight.
19
Headlights cut the evening sky as Gabe hurried down the darkened sidewalk, training his eyes on the ground ahead. Despite the plummeting temperature, a handful of pedestrians still scurried back and forth on either side of the street in the Portland suburb, huddled into sweatshirts and jackets.
He tugged his own hood lower over his forehead, the gesture as much to protect him from the cold air and icy northwestern wind nipping at his cheeks and nose as it was to hide his identity from any onlookers. Gabe had hoped that leaving the safe house would soothe his jangling nerves, but he’d been deluding himself. At least in the safe house, he’d had walls to protect him. Out here, alone on the street, he felt too exposed.
A clatter rang out from behind him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. A thump followed. Gabe froze, straining to hear. Footsteps?
As he glanced over his shoulder, his quads tightened, preparing to run. The soft glow of a diner’s interior lights revealed an orange tabby, racing away from a tipped trash can. Still, Gabe hurried his pace, pulling his hood even tighter to his face. After waiting for a red pickup truck to whoosh past, he darted out into the street, rejecting the crosswalk at an intersection that was only a half a block ahead. Once he hopped onto the opposite sidewalk, Gabe risked another peek behind him.
The path remained clear. None of the other walkers paid him any attention. So far, anyway.
Gabe reached the intersection, crossing when the light turned green. About a half-block up, he ducked into a drug store. After the anonymity of the gathering darkness outside, the fluorescent lights made him twitch. He grabbed a red basket, idled his way through the aisles, and once satisfied that Kingsley wasn’t going to pop out at any second, selected a sharp-looking knife from a shelf.
Gabe wanted to stay at a motel for the night, but he’d fled the house with little cash. An encampment might be his best bet anyway in Portland. He could disappear into the crowd of other homeless souls, like a scrap of hay in a haystack. Didn’t matter where he ended up crashing becau
se, either way, he’d feel more comfortable with a weapon tucked beneath his head.
Even the sight of the knife in his basket inflated Gabe’s courage. He took his time meandering the rest of the store, pausing in the refrigerated section. He added a bottle of water to the basket and headed for the cashier. Two teen girls giggled as they approached him going the opposite way, so Gabe ducked his head and kept walking.
His basket bounced off a solid object, stopping Gabe in his tracks.
“Oof. Sorry.”
Gabe muttered the apology to the man he’d bumped into, catching a glimpse of a shiny, balding head and bushy eyebrows before hurrying past. This had been a mistake. The store’s lights glared down on him like he was on a stage, leaving him far too exposed. The sooner he disappeared back into the night, the better.
Luckily, no one waited in line at the register. Gabe scooted his two items onto the counter, jiggling his leg while the bored mid-twenties man with a goatee rang him up at glacial speed. Despite the cold air, Gabe’s armpits were damp with sweat by the time he grabbed his bag. He scurried from the store at a pace a few clicks shy of a run.
The night swallowed him up again, and Gabe’s anxiety ebbed. To be sure, he found a hidden spot near a purified water fill-up station, where he crouched on his heels and waited. Several minutes ticked by, without anyone else exiting the store. Gabe swiped his forehead on his hoody sleeve and finally allowed his muscles to relax. His imagination was working overtime. No one was following him.
Your time is up.
Gabe shivered and readjusted his hood as Kingsley’s caption rolled around in his head. A perfect reminder that even if he was acting paranoid, he had a damned good reason. Three innocent people. By his count, that was the number of people Kingsley had already murdered to get back at Gabe. At least. So, when he’d threatened Gabe with that message, claiming he was next, Gabe tended to believe him.
On the street ahead, brake lights flashed red. A horn beeped. Gabe shivered again and resumed walking. An aroma of sweet cheese wafted from a pizza place down the road, but Gabe’s gut churned too much to consider eating. His mind replayed scenes from Kingsley’s video call, souring his stomach even more.
That poor man. If Gabe wasn’t such a wimp, he would have said the three magic words sooner. Instead, he’d frozen, letting the man suffer for his cowardice. Those brutal images, along with the shrill pain in the man’s screams, would haunt Gabe until his dying day. All those deaths piled high on his conscience. The man. The headless woman.
Rob.
His heart twisted at the reminder of what he’d lost. Gabe quickened his pace, as if moving his legs faster could help him outrun the past. One block passed in no time. On a side street, he spotted a flickering motel sign.
His breath puffed little clouds in front of him. He hesitated. The homeless encampment in Portland was probably his safest bet, but a hot bath sounded divine right now. Maybe he could sweet-talk the owner into giving him a late-night discount. Rob always told him that his grin could charm the pants off anyone.
Another sharp pain in his chest. God, he’d do anything to bring Rob back, but that was a child’s dream. All Gabe could do was keep moving. His gaze drifted up to the motel sign. But first, he’d try to haggle his way into a tub and soft bed.
Decision made, Gabe tucked his hands into his pockets and rounded the next corner, only to pull up short when a figure blocked his path.
“Excuse me,” Gabe muttered while staring at the ground. He veered to the left.
The figure veered left too.
Gabe’s pulse shot up. He forced himself to breathe. Probably an accident. “Sorry, looks like we’re dancing. I’ll go right this time.”
He lifted his head to offer the stranger a smile and stumbled. His legs shook, and he blinked in rapid succession. The streetlights spun as Gabe tried and failed to deny reality. The balding head and bushy eyebrows belonged to the customer at the convenience store. The man Gabe had bumped into on his way to the register.
Run. Now.
Adrenaline flooded his veins, urging his body into fight or flight mode. Gabe pivoted to flee, but two strong arms locked around his chest from behind.
Frantic now, Gabe wiggled and thrashed, only to have his captor squeeze so hard Gabe worried his ribs might crack. The bald man from the convenience store was skinny but strong and seemed to have no trouble turning Gabe toward a van idling by the curb. The side panel door slid open.
Gabe drew air deep into his lungs. His captor’s hand clamped over Gabe’s mouth, smothering his scream with a fleshy palm that reeked of garlic. The man shoved him toward the van while Gabe’s head jerked left and right, seeking a bystander. A witness. Someone to call 911.
As he was propelled toward the open door, Gabe spotted two pedestrians. Hope flared in his chest. Please. Help me. They lifted their phones to film his kidnapping, and the flame died as the truth seeped in. No one cared about him beyond their next social media story. His kidnapping would be documented, but by the time the police found him, Gabe would be long gone.
Gabe fought harder the last two steps, kicking and squirming for everything he was worth. His captor overpowered him, shoving him into the van with an ease that was embarrassing. Instead of bird-watching these past few months, he should have been lifting weights and taking self-defense classes.
Even as he renewed his struggle, Gabe tripped and hit the floor. Dazed, he laid there unmoving for a few moments, inhaling a pungent mix of garlic and sweaty feet. The door slammed shut behind him, and tires squealed as the van accelerated into the street.
“Hello, Gabriel.”
Gabe rolled over at the greeting from a voice that sounded all too familiar. The man from the convenience store was gone, and a new stranger leered down at him, holding an object in his hand. A syringe. Gabe scooted away, but the man grabbed his leg and yanked him back.
The man’s bright smile was the last thing Gabe saw before the sting of a needle pierced his neck. The drug burned on the way into his bloodstream. As the van swerved around a corner and Gabe’s world blurred at the edges, the man sat down on the van floor beside him, pulling Gabe’s head into his lap.
“Sweet dreams.”
The world went dark to the sensation of the strange man stroking Gabe’s hair.
20
Bethany climbed out of the car and adjusted the straps of her pink backpack before turning back to Katarina to wave. “Bye, Mama!” With her rosy cheeks and twin braids peeping out from beneath her purple knit pom-pom hat, she resembled one of those dolls Katarina had always wanted as a kid but never gotten.
“Bye, baby. Have a good day.”
“You too!”
The girl slammed the door closed and skipped away. Katarina waited until Bethany disappeared into a crowd of kids in rainbow-colored jackets before pulling away from the curb. She took a circuitous route on the way back to the little house, driving up one street and down another. Another long day full of TV, brooms, and boredom loomed before her. There was no reason to hurry home.
After a while, though, the sprawling neighborhoods all started to look the same. Katarina grew tired of ranch-style homes and Subarus. Even the majestic Tetons that towered over the town like sentinels were losing their appeal. Katarina stabbed the button to roll her window down and screamed.
“Ahhh!”
For an instant, the release softened the edges of her angst. But then the breeze ripped her cry away, letting the frustration rush back in. Katarina exhaled and accepted defeat. Soap operas and vacuums, coming right up.
Resigned to her fate, Katarina navigated to her own address, but as soon as she turned into the safe house driveway, her cell phone dinged. After shutting off the engine, she checked the message.
Meet me at the Statehouse restaurant at noon. Dress nice.
Katarina stared at the text until the meaning sank in, and her mood pivoted in a complete one-eighty. A new restaurant and a chance to meet up with Clayne? Yes, please.
; Smiling now, she bounced her way inside. After a long soak in a bubble bath, she toweled off and sifted through the contents of her closet. What to wear, what to wear. She inspected a shin-length, cream-colored knit dress before discarding the idea. Pretty, but the material clung too much to hide the knife Katarina planned on carrying.
She ended up choosing a gray wool turtleneck dress that skimmed her curves and ended above her knee, pairing the look with black suede over-the-knee boots. Sexy but sophisticated, and more importantly, the skirt hid her thigh sheath. A gun she’d managed to buy from a Craigslist ad fit perfectly in her purse. After styling her dark hair into soft waves and adding a pair of small gold hoop earrings and a matching wrist bangle, Katarina was ready to go.
When she pushed open the carved wooden door and entered the restaurant, she paused in the marble entryway to admire the elegant interior design. Chandeliers glittered down upon sleek dark tables surrounded by chairs upholstered in rich burgundy and gold. A well-dressed group chatted over plates of game fowl and perfectly charred steaks, and the sweet aromas reached Katarina’s nose, making her stomach rumble. A gold bucket in the middle of the table held a bottle of champagne on ice. Not bad, Wyoming.
“Can I help you?”
Katarina inspected the blonde hostess smiling from her little station. Good haircut, chic black dress, and the diamonds sparkling in her ears were real. “I’m here to meet Clayne Miller.”
“Yes, of course. If you’ll follow me, please.”
To Katarina’s surprise, the hostess led her to the far back corner of the dining room, where a door opened to reveal a private conference room.
“Here you go, enjoy your meal.”
The hostess exited the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Katarina to scope the place out. She did a double take when she spotted Clayne decked out in a charcoal suit that made the most of his strong body. Wow. She never would have pegged Clayne as part of the men-who-brunch set.