Vow of Justice

by Lynette Eason

  He washed the thermometer in alcohol and returned it to the cabinet. Then handed her two little orange pills and snagged the keys from the counter. “Take these for now. I’ll make the call.”

  Linc stared at the empty walls in the pool house. “Dumb question alert, but what do you mean it’s gone?”

  “It’s gone,” Daria said. “They’re all gone. Every last one of my pieces of art that my mother and I hung together.” She raced to the large stone outdoor fireplace.

  “Daria—” Linc followed her.

  She choked on a sob. “He burned them,” she whispered. “He burned them all.”

  A blast of fury rocked Linc. The man probably hadn’t had a clue about the flash drive being in the painting but had simply found a way to hurt his daughter. Linc wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Unbelievable.” She reached for the remains of one and stopped, dropping her hand. “He’s going to get away with everything, isn’t he?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “No. He’s not.”

  Her wise, grief-stricken eyes met his. “Right.”

  “You didn’t save it any other place?”

  “Yes. On all ten of those flash drives that were in the sunflower picture.” She nodded to the fireplace. “It’s probably in there, but I don’t know if any of them survived.”

  “We’ll get someone to sift through that and see.”

  “But it’ll be too late to help Allie.” She choked off a sob.

  Linc squeezed her shoulders, her despair a tangible thing. “You didn’t save it on Dropbox or the cloud or any place accessible from another computer.”

  “No. I was too afraid he’d be able to have someone hack into my laptop or cloud or whatever and delete it.”

  Smart, but not helpful all at the same time.

  Brady and Derek stood to the side with Izzy and Chloe, waiting for Linc to tell them the next move. He caught Brady’s eye. “Did you get an agent working on that warrant for Henry’s and Nevsky’s phone records?”

  “I did. He said he’d text you as soon as he had it.”

  Linc rubbed his eyes. “Henry took a leave of absence for the next three weeks,” he said, “citing personal issues.” His gaze touched on each sibling. “I can’t wait three weeks to find him. Annie’s already said she can’t track his phone and he’s not answering when she calls.”

  “Then we’ll have to draw him out,” Izzy said.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “What do you think he would do if he discovered you were alive? Would he hurt Allie?”

  Linc thought about it. “If he thought getting rid of her was the only way to stay out of prison, he would and . . .”

  “And?”

  “He’d probably send someone to finish Daria and me off, simply because we survived and wrecked his plans.”

  “What if we put a BOLO out on Allie, got her on national news with Henry’s face as her kidnapper?” Chloe asked.

  “He’d kill her and go underground.”

  Derek shook his head. “That won’t work. However, he’s probably watching the news, and when your and Daria’s deaths aren’t reported, he’s going to get suspicious.”

  “Guys?” Daria said. “I have an idea.”

  Linc turned to the teen, who’d been listening intently, her gaze bouncing from one to the other. “What kind of idea?”

  “What if I just hack into the security system with one of your laptops and redownload the footage?”

  “You think you can do that?” Brady asked.

  “As long as he hasn’t erased it or changed the password.”

  Linc cleared his throat. Izzy and Chloe exchanged a glance. “Um, yeah,” Linc said, “why don’t you do that?”

  “I mean, I had over a hundred hours of footage, so it took me a while to get it. I couldn’t stay in for very long without the possibility of getting caught.”

  “It’s still worth a try,” Linc said. “We’ll get a warrant for that as well, just in case there’s any evidence recovered. We’d want it all at some point, but for now, all we’d need would be the time he met with Henry. I want to know what they talked about. What do you need to make that happen?”

  She shrugged. “Just a laptop and internet access—and the warrant, of course.”

  “We can do that. And, Daria?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m really sorry about your artwork.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  25

  Sitting in his SUV not too far from his home, Vladislav Nevsky curled his hands into fists and resisted smashing the screen in front of him. The agent was still alive. Along with Daria, the brat. Henry had called last night and said they’d died in the hotel blast. And yet, there they stood, in his pool house.

  Gregori was dead and they were alive—and that was unacceptable. Henry had said Linc was the one responsible for Gregori’s death. Only the news that Linc St. John was dead had eased his grief and appeased his need for revenge.

  And now to learn he wasn’t dead, but apparently still looking for him sent his rage soaring to new heights.

  Henry Ogden had proved useful in the past. When the agent had first approached him, Vladislav weighed the risks of allowing the woman federal agent into his home, versus the idea of having another federal agent who would owe him a lifetime of loyalty and favors on his payroll.

  He’d decided it was worth it. And it had been. For a while. Until he’d learned it was Alina Radchenko in his house, befriending his traitorous daughter.

  Needless to say, he’d considered killing her where she stood when he found her in his office, but again, Henry’s worth as an inside man had been too good to mess up. And besides, Henry’s plan included getting her out of his hair. Forever. Unfortunately, Henry’s worth had just taken a nosedive and it was time to part ways with the man. Permanently.

  “He’s on the move and has been on the phone since he walked out of the building,” Special Agent Mills said. Federal agents in Hilton Head had eyes on Dr. Nathan Forsythe. They’d planted a tracker on his vehicle and would keep him under surveillance until Linc and his team could pick him up as he got closer to Columbia.

  “Good. We’re waiting for him,” Linc said.

  Still at Nevsky’s house, Daria sat at the table in the pool house and worked. She’d managed to get back into the security system and was downloading the footage to the laptop he’d provided. He had about an hour before he would need to fall in behind the doctor and follow him to his final destination. Which he hoped and prayed led them to Allie.

  Izzy approached. “We got the warrant. Nevsky’s and Henry’s phone records are being pulled as we speak. They’ll be sent to your phone as soon as they’re available.”

  “What convinced the DA to give us the warrant?”

  “Daria’s partial testimony that her father was working with Henry and she’d seen him at the house.”

  Linc was going to owe Daria his firstborn. The thought sent his heart into a panicked overdrive. The only woman he was interested in having a family with was Allie. God, please, let me find her. Alive.

  Izzy shook her head. “Stop with those thoughts. We’re so close, I can feel it.”

  His sister always could read him. “Maybe, but are we going to be in time?”

  She scowled. “Yes, so shut off the negativity.”

  If only it were that easy. “I was actually praying.”

  “Oh, well . . . carry on, then.”

  His phone dinged. The phone records. He glanced at Daria, then back to Izzy. “You okay staying with her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  Fellow agent Mark King stood next to the mobile unit that had arrived about thirty minutes ago. Linc hurried over. “I need to use the printer.”

  “Go for it.”

  Linc sent the phone records to the printer and stepped inside.

  On both sides of the unit were chairs and monitors. And the printer was at the end. Linc pull
ed the sheets off, settled himself at one of the stations to spread the records in front of him. It didn’t take long to match up the numbers, days, and times. There were three. The first conversation, which had lasted less than a minute, was on the day the drone had bombed the boat. The second was when he and Allie had decided to crash Nevsky’s party. And the third when Henry had contacted Nevsky to tell him that Linc and Daria were dead?

  His blood ran cold. They’d never told Henry the plan until they’d called him in at the end when he’d choppered in to get Killian, so how did he know where they were and to warn Nevsky?

  “Oh no. No, no, no. You’ve got to be kidding me.” He bolted out of the mobile unit and found Brady and Derek. “I need you guys to help me search my SUV. There’s a tracker or a listening device in there somewhere and we missed it.” Or it had been planted after the agent had found the one under his license plate shortly after the raid on Nevsky’s office and Daria’s rescue.

  Brady, Derek, and Linc searched until Brady shook his head. “There’s nothing here.”

  “What are you guys looking for?”

  Linc blinked at Daria. She didn’t have any trackers on her and he didn’t have any on him. That only left one option.

  Allie did.

  Allie stumbled to the couch and stretched out on it, wincing at the bruise on her back and the stitches that pulled. She was a mess and couldn’t afford to be right now.

  Henry was still in the kitchen on the phone with someone, and she had to get the room to stop spinning or she would be no good to anyone, much less Catherine.

  With a glance at Henry, who continued to pace the hardwoods, phone pressed to his ear, she grabbed the remote and aimed it at the television.

  Catherine’s room came up. She stared at the woman, who’d returned to her bed. She lay still, her back to the camera, her sobs silent for the moment.

  “You can’t rescue her,” Henry said from behind her.

  Not at the moment anyway. A rush of fear swept through her and it took her a second to make sure Henry wouldn’t hear it in her voice when she spoke. “Where are you keeping her?” she asked. There was no sign of fear, but her words sounded dull, thanks to the fever the ibuprofen wasn’t touching this time.

  “She has her space, you have yours.”

  She had to find some energy. “Do you have any soft drinks?”

  Her change of subject seemed to throw him, then he nodded. “Sprite?”

  “Sure.”

  He brought her one and reached out to touch her forehead. She flinched and his eyes went cold. Without removing his gaze from hers, he pulled out his phone. Allie grabbed his hand. “Don’t.”

  “Then don’t ever pull away from me.”

  “I won’t. Not anymore.” She swallowed. “I’m going to make mistakes,” she said, forcing a softness into her tone. “Please, don’t punish her while I’m . . . learning what to do and what not to do.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you can play me, Allie.”

  She shivered at the ominous timbre underlying the words. “Henry . . .” She sighed. “You know me. I’ll admit, if I could get away without Catherine being hurt, I would, but you know I won’t take a chance on that. And right now I feel absolutely horrid, so you have me at your mercy.”

  For now.

  Silence dropped between them when she stopped speaking. She’d heal. And as long as she could play her part well, she could keep him from hurting Catherine any further.

  “You get one warning,” he finally said.

  “Okay.”

  His eyes glittered dark and malevolent as his hand reached toward her head. Allie held still, jaw clenched, eyes on his. The back of his hand connected with her forehead and he frowned. “I think your fever is even higher.”

  “I think I’m going to lie down in the room.” She paused. “If that’s all right.” It took effort, but she kept all trace of sarcasm from her words.

  “Of course.”

  Feeling his eyes on her back, Allie slipped around the corner and into the bedroom she’d been assigned. Carefully, trying not to jar her back or the stitches, she stretched out on the bed. She’d rest for a few minutes, then figure out how to get to Catherine.

  Unfortunately, as the time passed, she continued to feel worse instead of better. She drifted, only to awaken with chills and nausea.

  Trembling, Allie rolled from the bed to her feet. Standing, she swayed, then staggered into the bathroom, where she was sick once again. “What in the world is going on with me?” she whispered, wishing someone was there to give her the answer. She thought it might have been the drug Henry had used to knock her out. Maybe it wasn’t completely out of her system yet.

  She chugged the Sprite, then filled the can with water and drank it.

  When the worst of the sickness and dizziness faded, she stripped her shirt off and turned to look at her wound. It was puffy and miserable looking. “Oh, gross.” The infection had taken hold and she needed to lance it.

  The thought sent her stomach back into spasms and she closed her eyes to gather her strength. She could do this. If she could find something to do it with. Right now she was Catherine’s only hope of escaping alive—and her own.

  Once it was drained, if Henry came through with the antibiotic, she should feel better in a day or so. At least the wound was high enough that she could reach it to do what she needed to do if she could find some sort of knife. The fact that there was hydrogen peroxide and alcohol in the cabinet along with the thermometer told her Henry wasn’t worried about her trying anything like throwing the liquid in his eyes. It would sting for a short time, but unless he had a door open and ready to bolt through, all that would do would be to anger him—and cause Catherine more pain and suffering—or death.

  With effort, she pulled on her shirt and made her way into the kitchen. “Henry?”

  No answer.

  “Henry?”

  She stood in the kitchen, holding on to the wall. Was this a test?

  Allie went in search of a glass and filled it with ice water. As she slowly sipped it, her stomach settled and she felt slightly stronger. She started to explore under the guise of looking for her captor. “Henry?”

  By the time she finished, she’d seen no sign of Catherine and had found no way out of the house. And while she was glad she now knew the layout of the single-story home, she was starting to see just how well Henry had thought all of this out.

  Despair clawed its way into her throat and she swallowed hard, refusing to give in to the desire to scream. That would accomplish nothing.

  She returned to the kitchen and noticed there was no butcher block of knives anywhere to be found. So, he wasn’t quite that sure of her. In one of the drawers, she found a small paring knife.

  It would have to do.

  With a deep breath, she grabbed it and returned to her bathroom to snag two washcloths, dousing one with alcohol. Once she had the knife as sterile as she could get it with hot water and alcohol, she stuffed the other washcloth between her teeth, turned so she could see in the mirror, and placed the tip of the knife against the wound.

  Then pressed through the stitches.

  Lightning-sharp pain arced through her and she bit down hard on the washcloth, keeping the scream from escaping. Warm wetness ran down her back and she grimaced as the sharp pain dulled to a piercing throb. She pressed again, cutting through another stitch and releasing more of the infection.

  The blade sank into her flesh and clinked against something hard. Shaking, nauseated, and fighting the need to simply pass out, she stopped and drew in a deep breath. For a moment, she wondered if she’d somehow hit a piece of bone. But there were no bones where she’d placed the knife.

  The room spun. She lowered her arm and leaned her head against the mirror. The pain radiated. Gulping down the nausea, she turned back to the wound.

  With gritted teeth, she probed again. Blood and infection ran freely. The room swam, but the knife touched something hard once ag
ain, and she slipped the tip of the blade under it and tilted. A small round object shot through the hole and landed on the counter.

  Allie dropped the knife and grabbed the alcohol-soaked rag. She slipped off the counter and sank to the floor before pressing the cloth to the wound.

  Fire shot through her back and darkness descended.

  26

  Linc watched the laptop screen and gave a grunt of satisfaction when the tracker showed the doctor turning into the long drive of a secluded house set on four acres of lakefront property. Thick trees surrounded the home, offering it extreme privacy—exactly like something Henry would purchase with his blood money if he’d been planning this for a while. If Linc had just been traveling the road, he never would have known the house was back there except for the privacy fence and gate.

  “Did you get the code?” he asked Mark King.

  “Got it.”

  CIRG was right there, waiting and ready to do their thing, and Linc took comfort from that. The Critical Incident Response Group consisted of SWAT, a hostage negotiator, tactical aviation, a behavioral analyst, and more. If Allie was in that house, they were going to get her out.

  Brady, Izzy, Derek, and Chloe and her K-9, Hank, were also around with other CPD officers. Before they could move in, they needed the layout of the place, alarm system, booby traps, hidden rooms, number of people in the house, and so on. Including finding out if there was any way to contact Allie without Henry noticing it.

  Now that they had the address, Annie could work on getting blueprints and hacking into the security system so they could get eyes inside.

  Nerves on edge, Linc wanted to pace, chew his nails, pull his hair out. Mostly, he wanted to rescue Allie and take Henry down. Hard. He wanted to do it. But would let it happen however it needed to happen in order to make sure Allie survived.

  “He’s got a lot of firewalls up,” Annie said. “This is going to take a while.”

  “We don’t have a while. Forsythe is inside. There was no way to get a listening device on him before he bolted out of his office. We need eyes inside the house.”

  “Working on it.”