But he did want to take care of this last bit of business. He would do so with pleasure.
This one wasn’t going to be a quickie with the old gun to the head. And it wasn’t going to be a quick slash and slice, either.
He was going to savor his date with Amanda. She was young and beautiful and would put up one hell of a fight.
He liked a little fight in his women.
All along, he’d figured his best bet was taking her in her own home. He’d studied the house, knew how to get in and out without being seen, knew which of the stairs squeaked and how many steps there were between the top of the stairs and her bed. He’d had that all figured out. He knew just what he wanted to do to Amanda, and all along, he’d been determined to do it in her own bed.
He wondered where she’d been staying. He’d not seen hide nor hair of her, and God knew he’d been watching. Every day he set out ostensibly to go to work with his nonexistent construction crew on his made-up jobs and instead headed straight for Broeder. He’d seen the CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE sign on her shop the time or two he’d stopped out there. He’d parked on the road that ran parallel to Amanda’s street and strolled around the lake to the woods that backed up to her property. He knew the path that led directly to her back fence and which limb of which tree gave him the best view into her bedroom, but he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her. He felt she would have stayed in the area, and he’d even walked around downtown Broeder a time or two, hoping to catch sight of her. But he hadn’t seen her anywhere. He was starting to wonder if she’d left town.
Maybe now that the FBI had announced that he was on his way toward Canada, wouldn’t she be coming back home, get her shop open again? Sure she would. She’d impressed him as the take-charge type. She wouldn’t stay in hiding any longer than necessary.
He switched off the television and went into the kitchen, where he opened a can of soup and heated it on the stove. He ate it standing up, looking out the big picture window that opened onto a garden that was tidy and colorful, even this late in the season. He left the bowl on the table, then hesitated, thinking that if Clark were to return while he was gone, maybe he’d figure out that someone had been there and would most certainly call the police. Why take that chance?
Vince rinsed and dried everything he’d used, then put it all back where he’d found it. He stood in the doorway and looked around. No one would even know he’d been there. Which was just as well, since he might be back again later tonight.
He closed the door behind him and hopped down the back steps. Lucky for him that the property sat at the farthest point of the dead-end street, where no one would see the car he’d stolen on his way out of Carleton. He knew he’d have to dump it, and the sooner the better. If he needed to return here later, he’d pick up something else and hot-wire it, drive it to within a couple of blocks, ditch it, and walk back. He knew this neighborhood well enough, knew the house well, too. After all, it had served him well for a time while Derek and his friend were on vacation.
It was almost starting to feel like home.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
“How are you holding up?” Sean peered into the living room where Amanda sat curled up on the sofa with a book in her lap.
“That’s the third time you asked.” She looked up and smiled. “I’m still fine.”
“I’m amazed that you’re so calm.”
“Well, so far nothing’s happened. It’s easy to be calm when there’s nothing going on. Besides, it’s the end of the second day, and things have been really quiet. Makes me think that maybe old Vince really is headed toward Canada.”
“Annie thinks we’ll know before another forty-eight hours has passed.” He walked into the room and stood near the end of the sofa but did not sit. Instead, he walked to the window and looked out as the sun faded on day two.
“You think he’s out there,” Amanda said. It was not a question.
“Yeah. Maybe not at this particular minute, but he’s been out there, and he’ll be back. I can almost feel the tension.”
“I don’t feel anything but chilled right about now.”
“How about if I make a fire?” he turned and asked. “I noticed some wood out near the garage. Want me to bring some in and get a little fire going?”
“That would be really nice, though I can do that myself, you know.”
“No doubt.” He grinned. “But you just sit. This one’s on me.”
It took Sean less than five minutes to gather some kindling from the yard and bring in a few logs. He stacked them on the hearth while he opened the flue and arranged the kindling.
“Did Miranda say what time she’d be back?” he asked without turning around.
“She made some comment about my pantry being more bare than Old Mother Hubbard’s and she needed some junk food if she was expected to make it through the next few days, so she was going to stop at the supermarket. I think she said something about stopping to pick up a few things to read at the bookstore, too.” She shifted in her seat. “You know, tomorrow you all are supposed to make a big deal about leaving me alone here. I think she wants to make certain that she has something to do while she waits for Vince to make his move.”
“The idea is for him not to realize how many of us are in here now, so that he won’t know how many are left behind when the cars are gone.”
“Are you going to stay?” She closed the book she’d been reading. “Will you be here tomorrow night?”
“Yes.” He stacked three logs on the grate, then turned around to look at her. “You don’t really think I’m going to be leaving, do you?”
“I was just wondering. I mean, I know Miranda will be here. I was hoping you’d stay, too.”
“You thinking about the logistics? How the whole thing is going to work?”
She nodded.
“I’ll leave by that small side door early in the morning, while it’s still dark, stick close to the hedge, walk up a few blocks, then Dana will pick me up. Miranda, of course, will stay here with you during the day.” He rolled up a few pieces of newspaper and stuffed them under the logs. “Then after it gets dark tomorrow night, I’ll come back in the same way.”
“Can’t he do the same thing?” Amanda frowned. “Sneak in through the hedges?”
“If he does, he’ll never make it to the door.” Sean lit the match and held it to the papers until the flame caught. “We’ll have two officers there around the clock. We’re hoping to get him inside the house, though.”
“Why? What difference does it make where you get him, as long as you get him?”
“We want to show intent. Plus, if he’s arrested in your house, it will help us when we have to state probable cause to bring charges against Lowell for conspiracy.”
“You think you’ll be able to make that case?”
“I’ll do my damnedest. I don’t want him back out on the street. I think we’d be putting three unsuspecting souls in danger.” He used the bellows to fan the flame until the logs began to burn.
“Because of the conspiracy thing? Because he might be planning on killing someone for this Channing?”
Sean nodded.
“Remember how Archer reacted when he saw the photos of Derek and Marian and Connie Paschall? He went absolutely gray,” she reminded him. “I wonder if he is capable of killing anyone.”
“You’re kidding, right? This is the same guy who came after you, beat you up. . . .”
“Oh, I remember, all right.” She nodded grimly. “But Archer attacking me was very personal. And for the record, if he’d wanted to, he could have killed me very easily. This other thing, though, I don’t know. I just don’t see him going to the trouble of killing people he doesn’t even know.”
“Well, it won’t be easy convincing a judge, I know that much. Since we have no real evidence, it’s all speculation.”
“Guess there’s no chance Archer would admit to being involved with Channing and Giordano?”
He snor
ted. “About as much chance as there is that Giordano will admit knowing Lowell and Channing. I don’t see it happening.”
She thought about it for a while, then said, “You wouldn’t even know who to warn, would you? I mean, if Lowell got out of prison and really did intend to kill someone?”
“It would most likely be three someones.” Sean replaced the fire screen and stood up, stretching the stiffness from his right knee. “So far, we’ve figured out three victims or potential victims for Channing and Giordano. If we’re correct in our assumption that Lowell is tied into this, too, we could expect him to be going after three people. And no. We wouldn’t know who to warn.”
“Lowell will never do it.” Amanda shook her head. “He’s too cowardly.”
“I hope you’re right.” Sean sat next to her on the sofa.
“You can’t keep him in prison on supposition alone.”
“Probably not. But filing charges would make him understand that we know what’s going on and that we’ll be watching him.”
“How would you watch him? Would you ask the FBI to do that? What if he left the area?”
“I’ve already thought of that. The FBI will be put on alert, and we’d keep track of where he’s gone and what he’s doing through his probation officer.”
“Assuming that you catch Giordano, what are the chances he’ll confess and tell you about the conspiracy?”
“None.” Sean shook his head. “I’d bet my life on it. If he’s going to go down on someone else’s behalf, you can damn well be sure that he’s going to want the whole thing played out.”
Amanda stared at the fire for a few minutes. When she looked away, she found that Sean was staring at her.
“What?” She prodded his ribs and he caught her hand in his.
“I was just wondering if you’d . . . well, if you’d been married before. Engaged, whatever.”
“Never married. Came close once, though,” she acknowledged. “And almost close one time before that.”
“What happened?” he asked, mindful of the little stab of jealousy that poked at his ribs.
“Just didn’t work out. Not to make light of it, but that’s pretty much it. When it came right down to it, neither time felt completely right. Something just seemed to be missing. How ’bout you?”
“Not really. There was a girl I met while I was in the service—her sister was engaged to a friend of mine—and we spent a lot of time together. It almost worked out.”
“But . . . ?”
“Well, as you said. It didn’t feel completely right.”
He put his arm around her and drew her closer. “This, however, feels right. Completely.”
He leaned down and kissed her upturned face, tugged playfully at her bottom lip before getting down to the business of kissing her seriously. Her mouth was wet and warm and opened to his at just the right moment. His tongue traced her mouth before sliding inside, and she leaned back against the sofa, taking him with her. She twisted under his weight, and he eased himself alongside her, his lips never leaving hers. He felt like he was drowning, and he was loving every second of it.
“More,” she whispered when she thought he was about to stop, and he covered her mouth again, assuring her that he had no intention of stopping.
His hands slid the length of her torso and back to her waist, once, twice, three times. She pulled her shirt out from the waistband of her jeans and began to unbutton it, bringing his hands to her flesh. His lips trailed from the curve of her mouth to her chin, to her throat, where they began a slow descent to her collarbone.
“He can’t have you,” Sean whispered as his hands claimed the soft flesh of her breasts. “He’ll have to kill me to get to you, Amanda. He can’t have you. . . .”
She leaned her head back as she undid the last button, urging his mouth lower. His lips made a hot trail across her skin, and she arched her back as the warmth spread through her with each passing second. She moved lower on the sofa, so that she was fully on her back. Sean’s long body was just about to cover hers, when through a fog of tension and desire they heard the back door slam.
“Honeys, I’m home,” Miranda sang from the kitchen, “and I have lots of goodies.”
Paper bags rustled in the other room.
“Hey, Amanda, are you here? I could use some help with the grocery bags, if you have a minute.”
“I’m here.” Amanda made a face as she pushed Sean off, sat up, and began to hastily rebutton her blouse. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Swearing gruffly, Sean gritted his teeth. “Damn feds . . .”
“Maybe it’s too soon,” Amanda whispered in the darkness. “Maybe he’ll wait a few more days.”
“He’s already been held at bay for two days. Anne Marie thinks he won’t be able to hold out past tonight.”
Sean still didn’t like the idea of Giordano coming into Amanda’s house, contaminating it with his presence, but it was too late to think about that now. “The patrol car and the guards left this morning, just as we planned. If Anne Marie knows what she’s talking about—and your brother seems to think she does—it should be tonight.”
“I think if Anne Marie told Evan that Vince Giordano was the ghost of Christmas past, he’d believe her.”
“He does seem to be smitten, doesn’t he?”
“Smitten might be a bit mild. I can’t remember the last time I saw that look on his face.”
“What look is that?”
“The one he gets when he looks at her.”
No doubt much like the one I get when I look at you. Sean smiled to himself. Aloud, he said, “It was hard for him to leave and go back to Virginia while all this is going on.”
“Well, he didn’t go quietly, that’s for sure. But I didn’t see any reason why he should miss out on that training. Besides, I think he understands that you’re not going to let anything happen to me.”
“I told him I’d guard you with my life, Amanda. I meant it.”
She knew he would. Just knowing that made this whole thing so much easier.
“You okay, Amanda? You know that we can always—”
“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”
“Scared?”
“A little.”
“It’ll be all over after tonight?”
“I think if it isn’t, Miranda is going to go stir-crazy. She’s been moving around this house like a ghost all day. And she made some comment earlier about feeling like the bride of Dracula.”
“What was that?” Sean tilted his head in the direction of the hall, listening, then slowly stood.
“Pipes. They always do that soft little clink thing about this time.”
“You sure?”
“Positive,” she whispered. “Sit down, Sean. It’s going to be a long night.”
“I don’t think so. If he’s been watching the house, he’ll be along any time now. We figured an hour or two from the time the lights went off. He’s going to want to come in when he thinks you’re asleep, so he’s going to give you some time there. He wants you totally powerless. I think Anne Marie is right on the money with this guy.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Ramona.”
He groaned softly.
“Come on, Sean, you have to admit, she—”
“Shhhhhh.”
There was an indistinct sound from the first floor.
“Showtime,” Sean said softly. “Don’t move . . .”
The footfalls on the stairs were barely audible, but in the silent house, unmistakable. In the dark, Amanda counted. When she reached number twelve, she held her breath. Twelve steps up, just seconds from the landing to her room.
The bedroom door opened so slowly that at first she was uncertain that it had moved at all. But bit by bit, the pale, pale halo from the night-light in the hall spread dimly across the floor. Not enough to see much more than shape and shadow, but that, of course, was the whole i
dea.
The form moved to the bed, then stood at the side for several minutes.
Then, in a soft, seductive voice, he said, “Wake up, dream girl.”
He rested one knee on the side of the mattress. One hand reached for the end of the blanket and started to pull it back.
“Uncle Vince has something for you, baby.”
“Baby has something for you, too, Uncle Vince.”
The hard muzzle of Sean’s gun pressed up against the back of Vince’s head, dead center, and Vince froze.
The lights went on overhead as Miranda stepped into the room, her gun drawn.
Amanda stepped out of the closet.
“What the fuck . . .” Vince looked down at the shape on the bed.
Amanda pulled back the covers on the mannequin that lay facedown on her pillow. “Well, hey, would you look at that? Uncle Vince’s dream girl is a real dummy.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY
“You look as tired as I feel,” Amanda told Sean as he parked the Jeep in front of Greer’s house and got out. She’d arrived only moments earlier.
“You should be tired,” he said, then amended that to, “We should both be tired. Up half the night waiting for Giordano, up the rest of the night and all day today writing reports.”
“You were writing reports,” she corrected him. “I was giving statements.”
“Close enough. You sure you want to have dinner here? I’m sure Greer would understand if you wanted to go home and catch some sleep. I’m sure she has no idea what you’ve been through these past four days.”
“I’m okay, except for the fatigue, and we all have that. Besides, I had to come by to pick up some things I left in the guest room. It was nice of Greer to invite me over for dinner, though.”
“You know how she is. She’s gotta be the momma-hen.”
“After the past four days of no sleep and practically no real food, I’m thrilled at the prospect of a real meal. Lunch today consisted of half a bag of Cheetos—which I had to split with Miranda—and a package of peanut butter crackers from the vending machine in the lobby of the municipal building.”
“Well, we know we’ll do better than that here. Let’s go on inside, have a great meal, and chat with Steven and Greer.” He paused. “You sure you want to sleep in your house tonight? It still looks like a crime scene, with that tape and all.”
Dead Certain Page 28
