HUNTING (PAVAD)

by Calle J. Brookes

  “And who better to know what makes me happy than me? Maybe I just don’t want to be with you.”

  “Guess that sums things up nicely then, doesn’t it?”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  ***

  He was greeted like an old friend, by this, the final move he’d make against Malachi. Other than the moves involving the queen and king, that was. He hadn’t originally intended to make this man his final advance, but the man was deserving of the role. And he needed to make an additional move, after the failure of Malachi being shot. He’d paid the gunman too handsomely for him to miss where he’d been aiming. The shooter had been ordered to hit one of Malachi’s team, not Malachi himself.

  That had resulted in him needing to make an extra move. He’d spent hours devising one, and had remembered this man and his closeness to Malachi.

  The piece even had the perfect name.

  “How are you?” Allan asked, handing him a beer. He opened the bottle and pretended to drink. He’d never really cared for beer, but had drank it on many occasions when out with friends. Paige, Alessandra, Malachi. And this man a few times. No, he wasn’t looking forward to this man’s sacrifice. But in every game, especially at the end, there were painful losses for both sides.

  “I am doing well, you?” They hadn’t spent a great deal of time together—mostly because he so rarely enjoyed spending time with other men.

  Men were far too competitive for his tastes. Unlike women, who had no true hope of competing with men in any arena.

  “What can I do for you tonight?” Allan led the way through his small ranch house on the outskirts of town. He didn’t have much money—his divorce had taken that from him.

  “It’s actually what I’ve came here to do for you.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  ***

  Malachi was sitting at his desk, and cursing himself for being a stubborn idiot in more ways than one. He should have stayed at home, in bed, and let his body have at least one day to recuperate. Had it been anyone other than Julia threatened and that might have been exactly what he’d have done.

  But at least at work he wouldn’t have to look at her and feel the pain of everything he had to lose. Everything he had lost. He’d thought that somewhere inside Julia there was a strength to overcome. Apparently there wasn’t. She was just going to spend the rest of her life hiding from herself, from any pain. Any real love with a man. It was just his mistake that he’d allowed himself to fall for the broken woman that she actually was.

  He’d get over her. Somehow. Someday. He didn’t know when, but just like the holes in his body, he would heal. Scarred, but healed.

  Hell yanked open Malachi’s door. “Get your stuff! We just got a call.”

  “Julia?”

  “Safe in the morgue. She’s not needed. Yet.”

  “A survivor?” They’d never had a survivor or even a witness before. His heart rate picked up, maybe they could get something to go on.

  “Apparently more than that.” Hell hesitated. “Allan Knight. It appears he tried to commit suicide. His team just found him—apparently one found him when he didn’t show up for shift. Right now he’s in a coma.”

  “Dammit!” This was the first time the victim had been a friend. Was this a precursor for what was coming? Would it be one of his family next? “Prognosis?”

  “Don’t know yet. But Mal—Lorcan’s over there now. He’s found an incomplete chess set, complete with board. And a letter, with chess notations and other indicators of a master chess player. They’ve also found photos and videos. Of you. And Julia. It looks like Knight is the guy!”

  Knight had been on his list of final four candidates. And from physical description and work history alone, had been at the top of that list. Malachi had been organizing teams to bring in each of the four men for questioning—something he had not been looking forward to. Was it going to be this easy?

  “I need to get over there.”

  “Thought you might. I’ll drive.”

  ***

  Two hours later Malachi was convinced that it had been Allan Knight who had stalked him for so long. Everything was arranged in a back bedroom of Allan’s house. Photos of Malachi, Alessandra, and their parents were everywhere on the walls.

  Photos of Julia were centered over the desk. Even a sheet of homemade business cards with Julia’s name and information were there. No wonder Allan had mentioned the business card in Malachi’s office that day. He’d wanted Julia involved from the get-go.

  Why hadn’t Malachi seen it? Wasn’t he supposed to be a student of the human mind? Wasn’t he as a profiler supposed to be able to predict human actions?

  He’d failed so badly with this case he knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  He and the rest of the CCU agents present at Allan’s felt for the four members of Allan’s team. They hadn’t understood or deserved what had happened, any more than Roger Stephenson’s team had nine months ago. One team member was far more upset, and Malachi learned she had been the one to find her team leader, and to realize what was in the backroom.

  And to find the note she’d bagged and given to Malachi personally.

  It had said simply,

  Malachi,

  I’ve grown tired of the game, and made a careless mistake.

  You were supposed to die yesterday, at your lover’s feet. But I have failed.

  Check mate. Game over.

  You win.

  The Chessmaster.

  (Good game, old friend. Both of them.)

  Malachi had checked the game board that was set up in the midst of Allan’s kitchen table. Several pieces were missing and he knew exactly where they were. In the center of his desk, labeled and tagged neatly in Julia’s handwriting.

  The king—black—lay on its side next to the wooden board. It had obviously been put into check. By the white queen.

  Hell came up behind him, Georgia took the other side. They all studied the board for a moment.

  Georgia was the first speak. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

  Malachi nodded. “Looks like it.”

  “I’ll call Julia. Let her know she’s safe now.”

  “Yes. She’d probably like to know.” To know that it was over, and that he would no longer be there right in front of her, reminding her of what she didn’t want. Yes, she probably would like to know. “No. I’d better call her myself.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  * * *

  Jules took off a few hours early after Malachi’s phone call; she’d go by Malachi’s and get the rest of her and Ruthie’s things when he wasn’t around. He’d insisted on returning to work, though everyone had cautioned against it. He’d assigned Chalmers to shadow her everywhere, and the man had driven her everywhere. He’d wanted to drive her back to Malachi’s but she’d told him no. She needed the space for a little bit.

  She didn’t know where Malachi had eventually ended up, but his vehicle wasn’t in its usual parking spot. But someone could have driven him home. If he was there and asked even one question she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

  The chain he’d tried to give her still rested in the middle of his kitchen table, next to one of her daughter’s stuffed toys. One he’d won for Ruthie at Pizza Pit. Jules smiled, remembering how enthusiastically he had approached winning tickets to get the familiar little stuffed monkey.

  Malachi approached everything with enthusiasm. Appreciation for life. He’d made her smile and laugh more in the last two weeks than she had in a long, long time.

  What was she doing?

  She took the chain out of its box. Here was this beautiful man who wanted to be with her and she was running away. Being the big coward she always knew she was.

  And hurting him in the process.

  Her fingers traced the tiny intricate links of the antique chain. It was beautiful, and it did complement the wedding set Rick had given her so many years ago. Like they were meant to be worn together.

  What wou
ld Rick tell her if he could see her now?

  Dammit, woman, take a chance. Take what you want to be happy! That’s what he would say, and she could almost hear his voice saying just that. He’d have liked Malachi—Rick had enjoyed tormenting her until she was ready to scream, too. She smiled softly, a tender remembrance that was more love than grief. Oh, Rick...maybe it was time to say good-bye to that lifetime? Take a chance, like Georgia had. Like Malachi wanted her to.

  Why her? Why did a man like him want a coward like her?

  She twisted the rings on her finger as she thought of the feelings Malachi had evoked. Anger, passion, annoyance, laughter, tenderness, safety, hurt...love.

  Jules did love him. She’d known that the moment he’d taken that bullet aimed at her. Seeing him bleeding, knowing he could have been killed had been a nightmare for her.

  But she’d survived it. And she still loved him.

  Staying apart from him yet still seeing him every day at work would not change that. And she wasn’t about to run away, not now. She had too much at stake here in St. Louis. At PAVAD.

  But hadn’t she already done just that by pulling away from him? Telling him she didn’t want him? Hurting him before she could be hurt by losing him later?

  That’s exactly what she had done.

  Jules pulled in a deep breath, then slipped the three piece wedding set Rick had given her off her hand. Her fingers trembled.

  She unhooked the chain and slipped the rings over one end, just as the back door opened.

  Her breath caught; she wasn’t ready to do this...not now. She needed time to regroup, to process.

  But it wasn’t Malachi standing in the door. The man was about Malachi’s size, with hair just a few shades lighter. His eyes were a much paler blue. He even wore a coat similar in style to Malachi’s.

  The gun was pointed right at her heart. “Well, my dear, this was not how I intended things to be between the two of us.”

  He held three chess pieces in his hand. Pieces similar to those that Jules had seen before. From the same wooden set.

  “You!”

  Why hadn’t they suspected? He’d been at the party; he’d been in Meredith’s home. He’d even been in her hospital room after the rescue. Why hadn’t they put it together?

  He quietly put two chess pieces on the center of Malachi’s kitchen table. Right next to Ruthie’s stuffed Curious George.

  Oh, God. Ruthie.

  Ruthie was with Malachi’s mother. She’d be safe. And Al and Malachi, Georgia and Ed—they would all see that Ruthie was somehow taken care of if Jules couldn’t...

  How stupid of them. How stupid of them all for not seeing past the obvious.

  It hadn’t been Agent Knight at all. The chessmaster’s MO was that he never killed in the same manner twice. He’d shot Knight, and made it look like attempted suicide. And they’d just thought Malachi had won the game. Stupid. They’d jumped the gun, and now…“What do you want?”

  “Several things. Come. We need to be going. I’m sure Malachi will be arriving soon.” Nathanial wrapped long, strong fingers around Jules’ upper arm, and pulled her to walk in front of him. His breath brushed against her hair as he leaned closer. He kept the gun aimed right at her. Could she get away from him? Should she run once he got her outside? If she let him take her away, she’d probably never get a chance again. If she could get away from him, she could run. Might even be able to outrun him, if she was quick enough. “That’s a smart move, my dear. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was going to leave the little pieces then walk away for a while. I have quite a few other plans. Even had plans for you. Plans that will have to change now that you’ve disrupted my outline.”

  “Gee, should I apologize?” She’d get one chance, at the most. And he’d most likely put a bullet in her back. She’d seen the results of this man’s kills. She would do her damnedest not to end up on Mia’s autopsy table.

  “Yes, you do have a wit about you, don’t you? I was so looking forward to enjoying you. But there is still plenty of time for that, once we’re alone.”

  He dragged her out the front door, and Jules bit back a scream. The snow was saturated with blood. And there was a body just a few yards from the front door, a few feet from her car. Just left there, carelessly. But it wasn’t Malachi’s. “Let me help him. Please.”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have time for that, my dear. Pity. It was nothing personal. He just happened to arrive as I was about to use my key. I was forced to use my gun instead.”

  Jules stumbled in the snow, right by Mick’s shoulder. Nathanial jerked her back to her feet. “Keep moving. Or I’ll put another bullet in him, this time in his head. As it is, Malachi may still find him in time to play the hero.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” Had Mick moved? Jules looked at him again. Malachi’s brother was staring at her. He was awake. Thank God. And he knew who was responsible. Knew she was there. “Let me just put something over the wound. Anything. Please?” She didn’t wait for permission, but grabbed the scarf she still had around her neck and dropped to her knees. Why hadn’t she taken her coat off once she’d arrived at Malachi’s earlier? Had she been that caught up in her thoughts of him? Now she just thanked God she still had it. And the scarf.

  She balled the blue knit cap up as tightly as she could and pushed it against the wound. She used her scarf to hold the scarf in place.

  Mick was watching her, but he’d lost so much blood and was losing more fast. “I’m so sorry...” she whispered to him.

  Not that it mattered, Mick was past the point of hearing her. Was he already gone? Jules checked for a pulse, and sobbed when she found only a faint one.

  The man pulled her to her feet by her hair.

  Hopefully Malachi would come home early. Hopefully he’d find his brother in time. Hopefully the wound wasn’t as severe as it looked. Hopefully…

  Dear God, hopefully…this wouldn’t end for Mick like it had for Bryan.

  Nathanial Collins, pushed her toward his car, a dark sedan she’d seen a few times. So he had been following them. Why hadn’t she put it together? She wasn’t stupid, was a fully trained agent. Why hadn’t she seen?

  “Get in. Front seat. I’ll be cuffing you to the door, so don’t be stupid.”

  Jules looked over her shoulder once. Mick was still there, still dying in the snow. And Nathanial could end his life with just a single shot. Malachi would find his brother dead in the snow, and know that he died because of him. Just like Rick and Bryan had died because she’d wanted to go shopping for baby things.

  Her decision was easy to make.

  She got in the car.

  And nearly screamed when she saw the dark-haired woman unconscious in the back seat.

  Chapter

  * * *

  When the driveway was at last visible Al sighed. Today had been a long day for her even though she was actually getting off a bit earlier than her usual four o’clock, culminating in testimony over in Kansas City. Someone from their team had to give deposition and she’d drawn the short straw. Everyone else had stayed at PAVAD working cold cases—which meant they’d gotten out even earlier than Al. Probably. Including Paige. Lucky dog.

  Al went in the driveway slowly, half afraid her brothers hadn’t salted the concrete before they’d left that morning. The snow had started coming down harder than ever on Al’s drive home. She hated winter, and half wished she’d never transferred from her last assignment in Arizona. Still, when St. Louis had come open she’d jumped at the chance, with at least one of her brothers was assigned to the field office. She’d missed her family more than she’d cared about the snow. And now St. Louis was just home.

  Her headlights illuminated the red stain on the snow. Al slammed the car into park and grabbed her gun. She knew what that stain was. Had seen too much like it in nearly that same spot before. Had Lois or Clark been hit by a car? Sometimes they escaped the fenced backyard, and Border collies—even well behaved ones—sometimes lik
ed to chase cars. If anything had happened to those dogs Mal would be devastated.

  Her heart froze when she saw her brother. “Mick!”

  She fell to the ground beside him, still gripping her weapon. He was cold, and had lost a lot of blood. But thank God there was a pulse. She dialed 911, reminded of the last time she’d found someone she loved lying injured in the snow.

  Mick opened his eyes. “Al. Jules.”

  “What?” She looked around, searching for others hurt or injured. Just like she had done when she found Paige.

  Jules’ car was in the driveway. Was she inside? Was she dead?

  His hand shot out, wrapped around her wrist. He coughed. “Jules…few minutes…ago. He took...her.”

  Al searched him for the point of injury, and found it. Beneath a bloodied blue scarf. One she recognized—her mother had given it to Jules as a gift. Jules had obviously tried to help Mick. But where was she now?

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  * * *

  He hurt. Malachi knew it would take time for him to get over it. But no matter how much he loved that woman, he would get over her. Even if he had to force himself to do it.

  But she did love him, he had no doubt of that. She was just too afraid to ever act on that. And that was what hurt him the most.

  He crossed the bullpen, headed to file the last of his paperwork on the chessmaster case, now the Knight/Brockman case—copies went into a master paper file in a general storage room—when someone shouted his name. Shouting in the bullpen didn’t happen often. That the one yelling was Ed Dennis had Malachi’s blood freezing in his veins.

  Ed wasn’t a yeller.

  Malachi met him halfway. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your sister called. Your brother’s been shot and they’re on their way to the hospital. It doesn’t look good.”

  “Who? How bad?” It was one of his biggest fears, losing his brother or sister line-of-duty. How could it not be?