Sweet Caroline's Keeper

by Beverly Barton

  "Yes," Wolfe said.

  "I'm afraid I don't understand why. . ." Caroline swayed slightly.

  When Wolfe reached out for her, Lyle ran to her side. "Don't touch her."

  "Please, someone tell me what's going on," Caroline said.

  "Aidan Colbert was a trained assassin," Fletcher told her.

  "What?" Caroline's violet-blue eyes rounded in disbelief. "Is that true? Is that what you did for the CIA?"

  "He was never a CIA agent," Fletcher said. "He was a member of a secret society and his very first assignment was to kill a man who had been falsely accused of being a rogue agent."

  "Caroline, please. . ." Wolfe went numb from the pain. He couldn't bear this helplessness, this inability to protect Car­oline from the most devastating agony she would ever know.

  "Aidan Colbert is the man who was sent to kill my fa­ther," Fletcher said, the hatred and contempt in his gaze practically searing the flesh from Wolfe's bones.

  "No!" Caroline jerked out of Lyle's arms and confronted Fletcher. "Where did you get such ridiculous information?"

  "I was told in confidence by someone with your best in­terests at heart," Fletcher said. "But I've been sworn to se­crecy. It's a matter of national security. I brought Lyle with me to help persuade you to believe me, to realize that you've put your trust in the man who killed my father. We can't do anything to him because we have no proof that will stand up in court. But we can demand that he leave this house and stay away from you. From now on Lyle and I will make sure you're safe."

  Caroline turned slowly and looked point-blank at Wolfe. "It isn't true, is it? None of it. It's all lies, isn't it?"

  What could he possibly say or do that would reassure her? Absolutely nothing. He had betrayed her, lied to her, pre­tended to be someone he wasn't. But if he admitted the truth to her now, she would hate him and she would send him away. Without him, her life would be in danger. He didn't know who he could trust and who he couldn't. Was it pos­sible that one of these men who had come running to her rescue might very well be the one intent on killing her? Or were Fletcher and Lyle simply pawns being manipulated by a brilliant strategist? Right now, his money was on Gavin Robbins, the sorry son of a bitch. Robbins had to have been the one who had somehow discovered David Wolfe's identity and gone to Fletcher. And if it isn't Robbins? his intuition asked. God help him. Don't let it be Ellison.

  "Answer me, dammit!" Caroline screamed.

  "Will you give me a chance to explain?" Wolfe pleaded. "I need to talk to you, just the two of us."

  She shook her head. "Wolfe, please, answer my ques­tion."

  "I can't," he said.

  "Oh, God. Oh, God. . ." she gasped.

  Caroline crumpled into Lyle's waiting arms. When Wolfe reached for her, Jack Parker clamped his hand down on Wolfe's shoulder and nodded toward Fletcher Shaw, warning Wolfe that Fletcher had his 9 mm aimed directly at the two of them. Fletch's hand trembled. Without much provocation, he might shoot, and as nervous as he was, he could easily fire the gun accidentally.

  Chapter 20

  Caroline refused to see him, refused to speak to him. Fletcher had ordered him out of her house, and without risk­ing a confrontation that might end in bloodshed, he didn't have much choice. Caroline knew only half truths, as well as the ugliest, most painful truth. Right now she had to be confused and hurting, in more pain than she'd experienced since the night of Preston Shaw's death. And what made the situation unbearable for Wolfe was that then and now, he was responsible for her agony.

  Jack stood in the doorway to the bedroom and watched Wolfe as he flung his clothes into his suitcase. "You know we can subdue Shaw and Jennings. Just say the word and Matt and I will—"

  "And what happens if one of them accidentally gets hurt?" Wolfe asked as he whipped the suitcase zipper closed. "You have no idea what Fletcher might do with that damn gun. He could start shooting with the least provocation." Wolfe lifted his suitcase off the bed. "Besides, if Caroline doesn't want us here, then legally we can't stay. If we don't leave she can call the police and have us thrown out."

  "The David Wolfe I know wouldn't be tucking tail and leaving without putting up a fight," Jack said.

  Wolfe turned on Jack, his gaze narrowing as frustration and anger boiled inside him.' 'That's just it—you don't know me. Didn't you hear what Fletcher said? I'm not David Wolfe. I'm Aidan Colbert and you have no idea what Aidan Colbert is capable of doing."

  "Colbert or Wolfe, I know one thing," Jack said. "You care about Caroline. My bet is that nothing and no one else matters to you, just her. So why leave her unprotected?"

  Wolfe glowered at Jack, then headed toward him. Jack stepped back, allowing Wolfe to walk past him, then he fol­lowed Wolfe downstairs and out onto the porch where Matt O'Brien still stood guard.

  "You two stay with her," Wolfe said. "Do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I have some business to take care of, then I'll contact y'all."

  "What do we do if she orders us to leave, too?" Jack asked.

  "Try to talk her into letting you stay. But if not, then you and Matt keep a watch on her, even if it has to be from a distance. And if she leaves this house, follow her. She won't be safe until I. . . Call Sawyer McNamara and ask him to meet me at the Peacekeepers International building in D.C. in two hours. I've got some rat killing to do and I just might need some federally authorized backup. But if anyone wants to know, he's to tell them he's a Dundee agent."

  Wolfe got in the leased Mercedes and backed out of the driveway, not once looking back. He didn't have time for regrets or sentimentality. Not when Caroline's life was in more danger now than ever. The only way he could protect her was to find out what was on the strip of microfilm in his pocket and hope there was enough evidence to put the top men in the Loyalists Coalition behind bars. Later, when she was safe, he would face Caroline and accept his punishment Unfortunately, he had a major problem at present. He didn't know who he could trust at Peacekeepers. His gut instincts told him that Ellison Penn was trustworthy. But on the off chance that he wasn't, David wanted the FBI present when they looked at the microfilm for the first time.

  "You're coming with me," Fletcher told Caroline, all the while nervously scanning the room for any sign of a Dundee agent. He clasped the pistol with both shaky hands, as if preparing to shoot. "I don't want you here in this house alone. I've spoken to Oliver and he insists that I bring you to stay with them until we can sort through this mess. Their house is more secure than mine or Lyle's and Oliver has even offered to bring in bodyguards from the company he uses."

  Caroline sat quietly in a chair at the kitchen table. A blessed numbness had thankfully taken control of her body and to some extent her mind. She could hear Fletcher speak­ing, could feel Lyle's hands holding hers, could sense the myriad emotions swirling around her. But only one thing truly registered at a deeper level—David Wolfe was a man named Aidan Colbert and that man had been the trained as­sassin who had executed Preston. No matter how many times she processed the information, her heart refused to believe it was true. Wolfe would never lie to her. Deceive her. Betray her. He loved her. He had risked his life to save her. Fletcher had to be wrong. But why hadn't Wolfe defended himself? Why had he acted like a guilty man?

  Oh, Wolfe. My dear David. . . No, he wasn't her David. He never had been her David. And that had been her biggest mistake, allowing her heart to confuse the two men, to mix them together in her mind until they were one being. But if Fletcher was right, David Wolfe didn't exist. The man she had given herself to, her heart and her body, was Aidan Col­bert—her stepfather's murderer.

  Caroline trembled from head to toe. Uncontrollably. Then quite suddenly she laughed, the sound alien to her ears. Shrill, hysterical laughter. And just as quickly as the laughter began, it died away and was replaced by gasping sobs. Oh, God, no! Please, help me. Don't let this happen to me again.

  Somewhere outside herself, she sensed Fletcher and Lyle hovering over her, could hear them speaking, arguing
, dis­cussing. She felt them lifting her to her feet, gently shaking her, calling out her name. But she was too far away from them, buried too deep inside the panic-stricken laughter and tears of her own heartache, to respond to their concern.

  "My God, she's gone berserk," Fletcher said. "Just like she did the night Father was killed."

  Ellison Perm met Wolfe and Sawyer McNamara at the el­evator and whisked them down the hall and to his office. Gavin Robbins and Barry Vanderpool watched with curios­ity, but neither said a word.

  Ellison closed the door, then turned and confronted Wolfe and McNamara. "What's going on? Do you know the risk you've taken coming here like this?" He eyed Sawyer. "And who is this with you?"

  "McNamara. FBI," Sawyer said.

  "McNamara is here to make sure what I'm about to turn over to you is kept safe," Wolfe explained.

  Ellison's eyebrows lifted. "So, you don't trust me. Is that what this is all about? You've found the evidence Preston hid away and you're concerned that I might not be trustwor­thy."

  "Someone told Fletcher Shaw that I'm Aidan Colbert and Fletcher told Caroline." Wolfe watched Ellison closely, gauging his reaction.

  "I see. And you think I'm the one who revealed your identity."

  "No, I don't think you would betray me," Wolfe said. "But at this point, I don't completely trust anyone."

  "But you seem to have no problem trusting the FBI," Ellison said.

  "I trust this particular federal agent. Sawyer's not inter­ested in me or you or any classified Peacekeepers business. He wants what I want—to find out who's been trying to kill Caroline."

  "As soon as we take a look at this microfilm Wolfe has in his possession, we should be able to tell who we can and can't trust," Sawyer McNamara said. "And once we have the evidence on these men, we can start making arrests."

  "Microfilm, huh?" Ellison smiled. "Preston Shaw was a smart man. Unfortunately, he outsmarted himself."

  Wolfe relaxed just a bit, feeling more reassured by the minute. Ellison didn't act like a man who had anything to hide.

  "Let's take a look at the microfilm," Sawyer said. "If it contains what we hope it does, I can take things from here. For a very long time, we've been wanting to get our hands on proof that the Loyalists Coalition exists."

  He dialed the private number and waited for the familiar voice to answer. His superior would be greatly interested in the news he had for him.

  "Yes?" the voice said.

  "Sir, I thought you would like to know that David Wolfe is at Peacekeepers International at this very minute and in conference with Ellison Penn and another gentleman."

  "Who is this other gentleman?"

  "I assume he's another Dundee agent. We suddenly seem overrun with them."

  "Do you have any idea what's going on in Ellison's of­fice?"

  "No, but—"

  "Call me back when you have more information."

  Yes, sir."

  * * *

  Wolfe answered his cell phone while Ellison and Sawyer prepared the microfilm for viewing on a projector. "Wolfe, it's me, Jack Parker."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "Don't know," he said. "But I thought I'd better inform you that Jennings and Shaw didn't take Miss Caroline to Shaw's house in Baltimore."

  Wolfe's heart lurched, apprehension tightening his gut. "Where did they take her?"

  "To Alexandria, Virginia, straight to Oliver Harper's home," Jack said. "Matt and I are keeping watch. We're as close as we can get to the house without being spotted."

  "Why would Fletcher take her to the Harpers'?"

  The blood ran cold in Wolfe's veins. Jack was right. Some­body Caroline trusted was probably a member of the Loy­alists Coalition. But who? Fletcher Shaw? Lyle Jennings? Or was it one or all of the Harpers?

  "If the Loyalists Coalition have Miss Caroline, then it may take a squad of storm troopers to get her away from them," Jack said.

  "I should never have let her send me away." Wolfe cursed himself for allowing this situation to happen. "I thought I could get things done here before the Coalition took action. I should have—"

  "If you had stayed, at the very least Fletcher Shaw would have called the police and had you arrested. At worst, he could have lost his head and shot you. Or one of us could have been forced to kill him."

  "Anything would be preferable to Caroline being held captive."

  "We don't know for sure she's being held captive." "Don't we?"

  The doctor emerged from the bedroom in the Harper man­sion where Caroline McGuire now slept peacefully. Oliver waited outside in the hallway. He hated the uncertainty, the sense of not having everything under control. But thanks to Fletcher's quick actions, they now had possession of Caro­line. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have the key. He had sent a couple of his men back to her house to search for it, but they had come up with nothing.

  "Please, come with me, Dr. Johnson," Oliver said, and led the man across the hall into a private sitting room. "How is she?"

  "I've sedated her. She should sleep for several hours."

  "What were you able to learn from her?"

  "She was rather incoherent, but with the proper medica­tion, she was agreeable to answering all my questions."

  Oliver smiled, a sense of relief relaxing the tension in his muscles. "What did she tell you about the key?"

  "She and Mr. Wolfe discovered that the key opened a jewelry box that had belonged to Caroline's mother," the doctor said.

  "A jewelry box? Then Preston was bluffing. There is no evidence. We've been fools to have worried."

  "Perhaps. But it seems Mr. Wolfe thought that there might be something hidden inside a large heart-shaped locket they found among Caroline's mother's jewelry."

  "A locket? Nonsense. What sort of evidence could be hid­den in—" Damn! Microfilm! Of course. Preston had filmed classified documents for the Loyalists Coalition; why wouldn't he have used the same method to obtain evidence against his brethren? "A small piece of coiled microfilm might fit into a large locket. I can think of nothing else it could be." Oliver grabbed the doctor by the lapels of his expensive suit. "Did Wolfe get his hands on that micro­film?"

  Dr. Johnson jerked out of Oliver's grip, then smoothed the lapels of his jacket. "Caroline is unaware of any microfilm. She did mention that Mr. Wolfe had been about to open the locket just as Fletcher arrived this morning. If there was anything in that locket, I swear to you that she knows nothing about it."

  "Wolfe wouldn't have left Caroline's house without checking that locket," Oliver said. "That means if there was anything inside, it's now in his possession."

  "Yes, that would be my guess."

  "We'll have to act quickly." Oliver paced the floor. "You keep Caroline sedated. I'll inform everyone that you've ad­vised complete rest for her and she's not to be disturbed. In the meantime, I will contact David Wolfe and present him with a deal he can't refuse."

  "And that would be?"

  "Caroline's life in exchange for whatever Wolfe removed from Lenore Shaw's locket."

  "Will this hold up in court?" Wolfe asked, his hands damp with perspiration and his heartbeat racing wildly.

  "Oh, yeah," Sawyer replied. "What we have here—" he pointed to the viewing screen that enlarged the documents captured on the microfilm "—is a journal that lists names, dates and events." Sawyer reached out and advanced the film. "And this is a signed confession by Preston Shaw that he assassinated Senator Harwell, following instructions from his superior, Oliver Harper."

  An overwhelming rush of emotion surged up inside Wolfe. Relief. Justification. Consolation. He had not executed an in­nocent man! Preston Shaw had not only been party to the plot to kill Senator Harwell, he had, as the evidence had shown and the Peacekeepers had acted upon, been the man who had pulled the trigger. But the relief was short-lived. Caroline was at this very moment in the home of Oliver Harper, the head honcho of the Loyalists Coalition!

  "I knew Oliver had some extremist political v
iews, but I never imagined him to be a true radical," Ellison said. "I've known the man since we were in college together and. . . When this comes out, it will kill Eileen and Brooke."

  "Harper's not the only bigwig on this list," Sawyer said. "We'll be rounding up ten other well-known citizens. A con­gressman, a senator and a federal judge among them."

  "Are you sure Caroline didn't see the microfilm?" Ellison asked.

  "I'm sure," Wolfe replied. "But she knew that I suspected there was something hidden in the locket. And if Harper had this Dr. Johnson use drugs on her, she would have told them whatever they wanted to know. And even without drugs, in her present mental state—" Emotion lodged in Wolfe's throat. He turned away from the other two men, clenched his hands into fists and shut his eyes as the pain and fear he could not control ran wild inside him.

  "If Oliver learns about the locket, he will figure out what Preston hid inside it," Ellison said. "It wouldn't take a ge­nius to come to the conclusion that the only evidence that would fit into something that size would be microfilm."

  "And Harper's only bargaining chip is Caroline Mc-Guire's life," Sawyer said. "It's his trump card, so he'll play it. And very soon."

  The call came in on Ellison Penn's private line. He rec­ognized the voice immediately. The devil himself—Oliver Harper. He would like nothing better than to get his hands around Oliver's neck and squeeze the life out of him. How could a man with every privilege life had to offer become the maniacal leader of a bunch of lunatics?

  "I understand David Wolfe is there with you," Oliver said.

  "That's right."

  "Did he bring you a little present?"

  Ellison held his breath. He knew. . .the damn bastard knew! Was there any point in playing games? "Yeah. All gift-wrapped and with a bow on top."

  "I have a little gift-wrapped present of my own," Oliver said. "I thought perhaps your Mr. Wolfe might like to trade."

  Oliver's laughter sent chills up Ellison's spine. Oliver wanted a trade. Caroline for the microfilm.