Deadly Contact

by Lara Lacombe

  They couldn’t have gone far, Caleb mused, rising to pace the room. She was still frail and weak and probably had trouble traveling. Collins would have to take her someplace comfortable, someplace close to help in case she needed it....

  His head pounding in earnest, Caleb reached for the bottle of aspirin on the nightstand. He shook two pills into his palm and swallowed them dry, wincing at the bitter taste. He screwed the cap back on and reached to put the bottle back, but he froze before he set it down.

  Help. Medication. She was probably still on medication. Not stuff that you could get over the counter, but prescription medication.

  Collins would have to stay by some kind of pharmacy, so he could get his wife’s drugs. No way would he make her do without, even if they were on the run. Caleb felt a spurt of satisfaction and reached for the phone. All he had to do was find out where Collins had last picked up his wife’s drugs, and then he’d have him.

  Fifteen minutes later, he hung up the phone, a wide smile pasted on his face. Things were finally looking up.

  * * *

  Kelly was quiet on the elevator ride up to James’s apartment. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid that her voice would wobble or she would say or do something to tip James off. He was already suspicious after her little slip in the car, and she had no intention of filling him in on the sordid details of her past with Gary.

  Why was Gary still ruining her life? No, that wasn’t right. If she’d learned anything in therapy, the better question was why was she continuing to let Gary influence her life. She knew that remaining silent gave him a kind of power over her, one that she didn’t want him to have, but she couldn’t just open up and talk about that time in her life. It was still too painful, a sore spot that had finally scabbed over but throbbed just the same.

  She wasn’t ashamed. She knew she’d been a victim. She hadn’t deserved his abuse, and she recognized on a rational level that the problem was with him, not her. Months of therapy had helped her let go of the idea that she was damaged goods, but that didn’t stop people from looking at her with pity when they found out.

  She still remembered the look on Charlie’s face when she’d told him. He’d been a graduate student in George’s lab, and they’d worked together for a few years. He’d met Gary before and had liked him, but he hadn’t pressed for details when Kelly had told him about the breakup.

  She and Charlie had been friends, at least in the context of work. Late nights and weekends spent in the lab had resulted in the development of a close work relationship, and it wasn’t unusual for them to grab a bite to eat together when their experimental incubation periods coincided.

  It had been during one such fast-food dinner that she’d told him the truth. He’d been bemoaning his most recent breakup, the latest in a long line of casual relationships. Charlie had always had high hopes for finding a girlfriend, but his dates were usually sacrificed on the altar of science, something Kelly could relate to all too well.

  “Whatever happened with you and Gary?” he asked, crumpling his hamburger wrapper before moving on to his fries. He glanced up at her, his eyes impossibly large behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “He seemed like a great guy.”

  Kelly fidgeted with a fry, dipping it in ketchup and tracing a design on the wrapper. “Sure,” she said, debating how much to reveal.

  “Did he get tired of playing second fiddle to the lab?”

  And there it was. Her out. She could lie and say Yes, we broke up because I was never available. But why should she protect him like that? He was the bad guy, not her, and she shouldn’t have to pretend that he was an awesome person who had gotten tired of waiting around. Not anymore.

  She took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Actually, I broke up with him because he hit me.”

  Charlie froze, his hand halfway to his mouth. After a second, he lowered it, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Wow. That’s, uh, wow. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  He looked her up and down, as if trying to see the bruises that had faded long ago. Kelly resisted the urge to shuffle in her seat, instead watching as Charlie’s expression morphed from shock to pity to apprehension. He cleared his throat again, his eyes darting wildly about the semi-deserted restaurant, and she realized with growing disappointment that he was feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable.

  She changed the subject quickly, and they headed back to the lab to finish up. The revelation shouldn’t have changed their friendship, but it did. Charlie grew increasingly distant, always finding excuses to avoid her company, and when he did have to spend time with her, he treated her with kid gloves, as if she was a fragile piece of china he was afraid of dropping. She eventually gave up trying to have anything more than superficial interactions with him, and she could tell her presence bothered him.

  He’d wrapped up his studies quickly after that, pressing forward to graduate a few months later. She’d been happy for him, but sad that her confession had cost her a congenial relationship with a coworker. One more thing Gary had ruined.

  “This way.” James’s voice roused her from her thoughts, and she shook her head to clear it of the memories. There was nothing to be gained by living in the past, especially when the present held dangers that required her full attention.

  She moved mechanically down the hall, mentally slamming the door on Gary and all he represented. James stopped outside his door, reaching out to rap smartly against the wood with his knuckles.

  She frowned at him. “Why are you knocking on your own door?”

  “Thomas is inside, making sure the place is clear. I don’t want to spook him.”

  There was a faint shuffling from within, and James called out, “It’s us.”

  “Door’s open” came the muffled reply.

  James motioned her behind him, and she was all too happy to comply. With careful, measured movements, he opened the door and pushed it in, his hand resting lightly on the butt of his gun. She felt her eyes widen as she caught the gesture. Why did he need his gun if his partner was inside?

  He stepped into the entryway, still on alert. She caught sight of a shock of red hair around the corner. James saw it, too, and visibly relaxed. “Everything okay?”

  Thomas stepped into the entryway, holstering his own weapon. “All clear. You’re good to go.” He looked past James and met her eyes. His face creased with a broad smile as he stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

  “Thomas Kincannon. Nice to meet you.”

  Kelly shook his large, warm hand. “Kelly Jarvis. Thanks for picking us up.”

  “No problem.” He jerked a thumb back at James. “This guy doesn’t ask for many favors, so I have to take advantage of it when he does.”

  Kelly smiled. His friendly demeanor put her at ease. “Keeping score, huh?”

  He winked at her. “You bet.”

  James returned to the entryway, his hands now empty. “Kelly, I put your bag in the guest room.”

  “My bag?” What was he talking about? She hadn’t brought anything.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “That was my doing. I took the liberty of stopping by your apartment before I picked you up at the hospital. I grabbed a couple of changes of clothes for you, just enough to get you by for a few days.”

  Absurdly touched by the thoughtful gesture, Kelly reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” she said, staring up into his bright blue eyes. “I really appreciate that.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied.

  She dropped his hand and turned to walk into the apartment, catching a glimpse of James’s face as she moved. He looked distinctly unhappy, but before she could wonder about it, his expression smoothed back into neutral detachment.

  He’s probably tired and sore, she thought as she made her way down the hall. I know I am.

  True to his word, James had placed the duffel bag on the foot of the bed. She unzipped it and began to pull out the clothes Thomas had packed for her. Might as well hang them up, she
figured. Given James’s earlier response, she could be there awhile.

  At the bottom of the bag were several pairs of panties. She felt her face heat as she realized Thomas had been in her underwear drawer. It was bad enough he’d seen her kiss James. The fact that he now knew she preferred bikini briefs brought a fresh wave of embarrassment that had her quickly stuffing the items in question into a dresser drawer.

  “Get over yourself,” she muttered. Given his clear blue eyes and fallen-angel smile, she was willing to bet Thomas had already seen his fair share of women’s underwear.

  With a sigh, she placed the now-empty duffel bag in the closet, then cast a longing look at the bed. A nap seemed like a fabulous idea, but first she wanted a bath.

  She gathered up a change of clothes and made her way to the bathroom. She could hear the low murmur of voices from the den but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Probably working on the computer, she figured, pulling a towel from the cabinet in the bathroom.

  Slowly, carefully she stripped off her shirt. The nurse had given her a dose of Dilaudid before she’d left the hospital, and while it kept the worst of the pain at bay, sudden zings shot down her arm when she moved a certain way. Hopefully, a good soak would help her to relax.

  The water was almost too hot to bear, but Kelly gritted her teeth and sank in. The better to burn off all the hospital germs, she thought, raising a pink hand and reaching for the soap. She washed around her shoulder, trying to keep the stitches dry as she rinsed off the dried blood and residual iodine. Then she leaned back against the wall of the tub and closed her eyes.

  James wasn’t going to be content to ignore her earlier verbal slip. He’d backed off for now, but she knew it was a temporary truce at best. He was probably just waiting until they were alone again to start up the questions.

  She was running out of reasons not to tell him. James deserved to know why she’d walked away from him before, why she’d been so afraid. She recognized that, but she didn’t want to get into it when they were both distracted by the issues of George and Caleb and everything else going on. This wasn’t like discussing what to have for dinner; it was a conversation that required time and focus, things neither of them could spare right now.

  She absently rubbed her stomach, which was feeling decidedly queasy. The voice of doubt whispered in her ear as she pondered her options. What if she told him, and he responded like Charlie had? She couldn’t deny that she still had feelings for him, still wanted him. Could she take the chance that he would walk away when he found out she’d been used as a punching bag? Would he believe her when she told him she was over it and wanted to start fresh, with him?

  I have to try. She’d resolved to rebuild their relationship, and to do that, she had to be honest with him. It was the only way they could move forward. She’d let her fears hurt him once—she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do it again.

  Now she just had to figure out how to tell him.

  * * *

  “Hello, Professor.”

  George sucked in a breath, the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention as a cold chill slithered over his skin. Surely he was hearing things. There was no way—

  “You’re looking good.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge the voice from his nightmares. This was clearly a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. If he ignored it, it would go away. He opened his eyes, focusing on the bottle of sleeping pills he’d plucked from the pharmacy shelf. Were these the maximum doses? Because he really needed to get some rest.

  “I must admit, I’m impressed it’s taken me this long to find you. Of course, I haven’t been giving it all of my attention.”

  “Go away,” George muttered. A small part of him recognized he was on his way to acting like one of those crazy homeless people who paced the streets, talking to themselves, but he was too tired to care.

  Just one night, he thought desperately. Just one good night of sleep. That’s all I need.

  The price of his constant vigilance was exhaustion, but every time he tried to sleep, his brain kicked into high gear, churning out what-ifs and terrifying scenarios that ended with Ruth being hurt or killed and him being tortured for information. Ruth’s disappointment in him wasn’t helping, either. He obsessed over ways to win her back, his plans growing increasingly far-fetched as his fatigue heightened.

  At this point, he was almost willing to turn himself in to the police just so he could relax enough to rest.

  He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. He turned around, the protest dying on his lips as he came face-to-face with the devil once again.

  “You,” he managed, swallowing hard to push down the lump in his throat.

  The man merely smiled in a predatory way, which only made George’s stomach flop ominously. “Me,” he said, his tone perfectly polite.

  “But how did you...? I don’t understand.” George shuffled back a step, bumping into a woman, who frowned at him as she moved down the aisle.

  “Watch where you’re going,” she muttered as she wheeled her cart away.

  The man waved his hand, as if he couldn’t be bothered with silly details like how he’d hunted them down. George had known it was only a matter of time, but he hadn’t expected to be found so soon. He’d hoped for enough time to develop a plan, at least.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to renege on our agreement.” He said it pleasantly enough, but the man’s eyes were cold and dead. George had the sudden realization that if not for the witnesses in the store, this man would cheerfully kill him and not think twice.

  “Ruth wanted to redecorate, to celebrate beating cancer,” he stammered, the lie tripping off his tongue before he realized what he was saying. “We’re just staying at the hotel until the renovations are done.”

  The man shook his head. “Do you know how I can tell when you’re lying, George?” He took a step forward, and George’s heart leaped into his throat. “Your lips are moving. Now.” He reached out, brushing his hands lightly across George’s shoulders. “I suggest you stop lying, and tell me how you’re going to make this up to me.”

  “I can still get you the bug,” George said, taking another step back. “I’ll get it for you, and we’ll be even.”

  The man rolled his eyes. “How are you going to do that? Your lab is being watched. If you go back, you’ll get picked up.” He raised a brow over the rim of his glasses. “I assume you’re still interested in staying out of jail and with your lovely wife?”

  Absolutely. Even though Ruth wanted nothing to do with him right now, he still needed to stay by her side. Once this danger had passed, they could go back to being the way they were before and pretend as if this whole thing had never happened.

  George cast about for something—anything—to say to buy him some time. The way the man was watching him made him viscerally uncomfortable. Right now, George felt a bit like prey, while the hunter in front of him merely waited for his opportunity to strike.

  “I have a postdoc,” he offered, wiping his palms on his pants. “She could get the bug out of the freezer and bring it to you.”

  A spark of interest flared in those dead eyes, so George went on, warming to his subject as he spoke. “She knows where everything is, and I trust her to bring the right stuff. I can tell her to meet you somewhere to give you the stuff. Will that work?”

  The man seemed to be considering his suggestion. His eyes narrowed for a moment; then he nodded slightly, his lips curving up in what might have been a smile.

  “That could work,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “But you’ll do exactly as I say.”

  George nodded quickly. Anything to distract him. His breath came a little easier now that it seemed the man wasn’t going to hurt him. “Of course, of course. Whatever you want.”

  With a decisive nod, the man raised his arm out in a sweeping gesture. “Well, then. Shall we?”

  Geor
ge gulped, unsure of what he was meant to do. “What?”

  “You can’t call her here, Professor. We need a little more privacy for this conversation.”

  Oh, God. No. He couldn’t go with him. He was as good as dead if he walked out of the store. His heart thumped madly as he searched for a reason—any reason—to stay put.

  The man still held his arm up, but his tone was steely when he spoke again. “Professor,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. But if you don’t do what I say, I will make life very unpleasant for your wife.”

  George stepped forward mechanically, his legs stiff and uncooperative. He jumped when the man’s hand landed on his shoulder.

  “There’s a good lad,” the devil whispered in his ear as they walked to the front of the pharmacy. “Let’s hope you can clean up the mess you made.”

  Chapter 8

  “How’s it looking?” James set a beer by Thomas’s hand, then carefully lowered himself into the chair he’d dragged over to the desk. He flipped off the cap of his own bottle and took a long swig; the bubbles tickled their way down into his stomach.

  Thomas leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. He reached for the bottle and toasted James in silent thanks.

  “Looking good, actually. I’ve got her showing up at the safe house in Herndon. Close enough to be believable, but far enough away that if anyone actually goes to check it out, it will waste their time.”

  James considered the screen as he sipped his brew. He wasn’t quite sure how Thomas had done it, but he wasn’t going to ask too many questions. Ignorance was bliss, as far as this kind of thing went.

  “Will you be able to tell if anyone shows up there?”

  Thomas nodded. “Yeah, if they break in, it will trip the alarm.”

  James frowned. “But they won’t need to break in. They can just look at the house and see that it’s empty.”

  “Not exactly,” Thomas said, a sly grin playing at his mouth. “Remember Fisher?”

  “Mark Fisher?” James said, shaking his head. “What does he have to do with this?”