Downright Dangerous

by Beverly Barton

  You should have told Frank Latimer what was going on. You shouldn't have left the hospital without a Dundee agent. You promised Rafe.

  But Rafe never would have let her come to Honey Town to meet Cassie. He'd have insisted on the Dundee agents handling it. And that would have blown everything to smithereens. No way would Cassie deal with them.

  Elsa ran her gloved hands up and down the sleeves of Kate Malone's black wool coat that she had borrowed. Even though the unmarked police car Van drove was rel­atively warm inside and she wore black jeans and a gray double-knit sweater, loaned to her by a neighbor, she couldn't shake the chill that seemed to be in her bones.

  "We'll let you out and wait in the car for you," Van said as he pulled the dark blue vehicle to a halt.

  Andy opened the back door and stepped out onto the street in front of the weather-worn house where Cassie lived. Not exactly a shack and even better than many houses and apartments in the area, this place had definitely seen better days. It needed a new roof and a fresh coat of paint, at the very least. Elsa remembered living in houses like this as a child, and from past experience, figured the interior was as bad as the exterior.

  "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you, Ms. Leone?" Andy asked as he opened Elsa's door.

  "Cassie is more likely to talk to me, to make a deal, if I go in alone."

  "We'll keep watch out here," Van told her. "At the first sign of trouble you start screaming and run like hell."

  "I don't like this," Andy said. "Something doesn't feel right."

  "That's nerves talking," Van said. "But just in case, why don't you walk Elsa to the door to make sure."

  "No, that—" Why are you protesting? she asked her­self. As long as Andy doesn't insist on going inside, what difference does it make? Cassie had agreed that Elsa could bring a bodyguard with her. "Yeah. Fine. Just let me go in alone and talk to her. You can stand guard on the porch."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Snowflakes dusted her hair and coat, melting quickly on her head and lingering seconds longer on her coat. With each step she took, her stomach knotted just a little bit more. God, give me the strength and courage I need right now. And please, please, let this nightmare end soon.

  Andy stood at her side when she knocked on the door. No screen door. No storm door. Just a solid wooden door with a peephole. They waited in the freezing cold, each minute seeming twice as long as it actually was. Elsa knocked again. Louder and harder.

  The front door cracked open a fraction, and Elsa could make out a portion of Cassie's slender form and pale face. "May I come in?"

  "Who's he?" Cassie asked, checking out Andy suspi­ciously.

  "My bodyguard."

  "He stays outside," Cassie said.

  " Fine. Now that we have that settled, may I come in?''

  Cassie opened the door and stood aside to allow Elsa entrance.

  "Wait for me here," she told Andy. "Yes, ma'am."

  Elsa entered the semidark interior of the living room, and an eerie feeling encompassed her the moment Cassie closed the door. Why was the room so dark? Why weren't there any lights on? The only illumination came from the daylight seeping through the dingy lace curtains covering the two windows at the front of the house.

  "Come on in," Cassie said, her voice shaky.

  Elsa paused, turned and faced Cassie, who stood only a few inches from the front door. Her hair looked as if she hadn't brushed it this morning. The bruise on her left cheek stood out prominently against her pale face. The woman was scared to death. But of what? Or whom? Did she fear Ellison Mays? Was she afraid he'd find out that she had betrayed him?

  "Look, if you've got the evidence you say you do, why don't you get it and come with me right now," Elsa said. "The police can protect you, and I promise I'll get the money for you today."

  "The police can't protect me. . .or you." Cassie rubbed her hands nervously up and down against the silky material covering her hips.

  Elsa froze to the spot when she noticed Cassie, horror etched on her face, looking past Elsa, at something in the corner behind her. "What's wrong?" But Elsa knew be­fore she turned around. Knew that she'd made a terrible mistake in coming here.

  She took a deep breath, preparing to scream for Andy as she pivoted around slowly. A shadowy form moved in the darkest corner of the living room. Ellison Southwell Mays stepped out of the darkness. Elsa let out an ear-piercing cry for help.

  While Frank zipped his rental car through downtown Maysville, Rafe worked with the shoes and socks they'd "borrowed" from a hospital locker. He hadn't taken time to put them on before they left and his feet were like ice. The battered jeans and white sweater he had on also be­longed to a hospital employee. The black leather coat was a loan from Geoff Monday and was one size too large, since Monday was thicker and broader.

  "Where do we start?" Frank asked. "The police de­partment has no idea where Chief Fleming is. He's not responding to their calls. But they do know that the chief requested a rookie named Andy Bridges for a special as­signment today."

  "Andy Bridges. Why does that sound—"

  "His sister is Janie Bridges, one of the news producers at WJMM."

  "Hmm, someone Elsa would trust. Okay, so we figure Fleming and this rookie named Bridges are with Elsa. I just don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. If Fleming is dirty, then—"

  "That still doesn't mean he's a killer or even willing to stand by while someone else kills Elsa," Frank said.

  The thought of Elsa dying became a physical pain inside Rafe. A deep hurt that kept growing stronger. He had to vanquish the thought and concentrate on finding Elsa and preventing a tragedy.

  "Did you find out what kind of vehicle Fleming is driv­ing? Maybe if we can spot his car, we—''

  "It's a long shot," Frank said. "But, yeah, I know what to look for—his department vehicle and his personal car, too."

  "Okay, let's start with that and we can make a few stops and see if we can get some information out of the locals. I wish we had more Dundee agents to help us. If we weren't hunting down the chief of police, we could call them in on this."

  "Kate's making some phone calls to see if there are any agents who can get here pronto and help in the search." Frank cast Rafe a quick sidelong glance. "We'll find her."

  "Yeah, we will, if I have to tear Honey Town apart, brick by brick, board by board."

  "Andy! Help me!" Elsa cried. She glared at Ellison, her hands trembling, her heartbeat thundering in her head. "I didn't come alone. Chief Fleming is outside in his car and Officer Bridges is right outside the door."

  "I'm afraid Officer Bridges can't help you," a familiar voice said. "I'm sure Van has taken care of him by now. And, of course, Van won't help you. He follows my or­ders, you see."

  Ellison moved into the light and Elsa saw the tip of a gun against his right temple. A gloved hand held the shiny 9mm. Her gaze lingered on that hand for a second, then moved up the arm and onto the face she knew so well. Handsome, charming Harry Colburn.

  "Yes, it's me, Elsa. Surprised?"

  She stared at him in disbelief.

  "I'm sorry, Elsa," Ellison said, as Harry walked him forward, keeping the pistol aimed to kill. "Cassie and I had no choice but to do as he asked. You know I'd never willingly do anything to hurt you."

  "He made me call you," Cassie said, tears flooding her eyes. "He told me that if I didn't get you down here, he'd kill Ellison."

  " Telling me you had evidence against Ellison was just a ruse to get me here, so that—'' She glared at Harry. "Do you intend to kill me in front of witnesses?"

  "You can let us go now, can't you?" Cassie asked. "I did what you wanted me to do. Ellison and I can leave now and we won't be witnesses to anything."

  Harry grinned wickedly. Elsa's stomach soured and she suddenly felt sick.

  "Harry can't allow us to live," Ellison said. "He plans to kill all three of us."

  "No, he doesn't have to kill us. We helped him." Tears ran down Cassie's
cheeks.

  "I'm afraid Ellison is right," Harry said. "For my plan to work, I can't leave behind any witnesses. Let me explain how I plan for this scenario to play out—Ellison lured Elsa down here to kill her, but she brought a couple of cops with her. So, in the ensuing gunplay, unfortunately all three of you were killed. Van will be the only witness. He'll testify that he killed in an effort to save Elsa."

  "What about Andy Bridges?" Elsa asked. "He's not in on this."

  "Van knows better than to leave any loose ends. He'll handle Officer Bridges."

  "Where's Van now?"

  "He's waiting for my call to drive back here and come in to set things up once y'all are dead. There will be a gun found in Ellison's hand and one in Cassie's, too."

  "Please, don't," Cassie begged. "I did what you—"

  "I'll start with Ellison." Harry grinned.

  "No!" Cassie lunged at Harry.

  Startled by the unexpected attack, Harry hesitated for a moment, then turned the gun on Cassie. Ellison took ad­vantage of that split-second lapse and dove into Harry, knocking him to the floor. The two men struggled, the gun in Harry's hand between their bodies. A shot rang out, muted by the silencer on Harry's weapon. While Elsa and Cassie stood by, both transfixed by fear, Harry shoved El­lison off him and rose to his knees, obviously stunned but still holding the gun in his hand.

  "Ellie!" Cassie screamed.

  "Get out of here," Ellison said, with his dying breath. "Run now!"

  Elsa grabbed Cassie's arm and urged her to come with her. The two of them turned and ran toward the front door. Elsa grasped the doorknob and flung open the door. Her heart beat wildly. Adrenaline pumped through her body. Once on the porch, Elsa looked around for Andy and saw his body slumped on the floor. Oh, mercy! Van Fleming's car was gone. Had he killed Andy and then driven away?

  No time to think, she told herself. Keep running. Don't stop. Don't look back. She flew off the porch and onto the cracked sidewalk, running as fast as she could. Suddenly she heard a shot ring out behind her. Harry was shooting at them. Glancing over her shoulder to check on Cassie and tell her to keep running, Elsa saw the woman fall off the porch and onto the sidewalk. Blood surrounded the exit wound in her chest. Harry had shot her in the back.

  Another shot rang out and missed Elsa by mere inches. Run, run, run. Her survival instincts had kicked in com­pletely. She had to get away. Find help. Somehow get in touch with Rafe.

  Rafe and Frank exited the third Honey Town bar they'd found open before noon. After questioning the regulars, they realized that if anybody knew anything, they weren't talking. Big surprise. But with each passing minute, their chances of finding Elsa grew slimmer. As they trekked across the snowy sidewalk toward Frank's rental car, his cell phone rang.

  "Get in," Frank said, then answered the phone as he hopped into the car and slid behind the wheel. "Latimer here." He cranked the car and turned on the heater.

  "Frank, I've got good news and bad news," Kate Ma-lone told him.

  "Give me the good first."

  "We have three Dundee agents on the way to Mays-ville and should be here within two hours. Sawyer's flying them in on the jet."

  "That's the good news?"

  "The bad news is both Ellison Mays and Harry Colburn are unaccounted for."

  "So one of them could have Elsa."

  "Who's got Elsa?" Rafe grasped Frank's arm.

  "Hold on, Kate." Frank shrugged off Rafe's hold and said, "Mays and Colburn are both unaccounted for, so one of them may have Elsa. Just a guess. No proof."

  "Tell Kate to see if she can find out if there's anyplace in Honey Town where either man's known to hang out. Hey, what about Mays's sweetie? What's her name?"

  Frank repeated Rafe's request to Kate, who promptly replied, "Cassie Dover lives at 115 East Twelfth Street. And Harry Colburn grew up down there. He still owns his family's house. The address is 304 West Tenth Street." Frank recited the information to Rafe, then asked, "Which do we try first?"

  "Whichever is closer," Rafe replied.

  "Frank, where do I send reinforcements when they ar­rive?" Kate asked.

  "I'm not sure. When you pick them up at the airport, call me and I should know something by then."

  "I need a gun," Rafe said as soon as Frank finished talking to Kate.

  "My spare is in the glove compartment."

  As a general rule all Dundee agents carried a knife as well as a gun and they kept an extra pistol in case theirs was lost or stolen.

  Rafe opened the compartment, removed the well-used old Glock, inspected it quickly, then shoved it into the pocket of his borrowed coat.

  * * *

  The minute Frank pulled to a stop in front of 115 East Twelfth Street, Rafe jumped out of the car. Another car was parked in the drive, along with a police vehicle with its blue light flashing. Frank got out and followed Rafe up the cracked sidewalk. Van Fleming stood in the yard talk­ing to two uniformed police officers. A woman's body lay sprawled, facedown on the sidewalk, looking as if she'd taken a nosedive off the porch. In the distance a siren wailed, alerting motorists to clear the road for the ambu­lance.

  "What's happened here?" Frank asked as he grabbed Rafe by the arm.

  Fleming's head popped up. Rafe not only saw the fear in his eyes, he smelled the man's fear. "Where's Elsa?"

  "I. . .I don't know," Fleming said. "I swear to God, I don't know."

  Rafe jerked free of Frank's restraining hold and made a beeline toward Fleming. He reached out and grabbed the police chief by the lapels of his jacket. "You brought her down here, you bastard. Where is she?"

  The two police officers pulled their weapons. "Please release Chief Fleming," one of them said.

  "I'll release Chief Fleming when he answers my ques­tions."

  "Cassie Dover called Elsa at the hospital and told her she had proof that Ellison Mays was the one who'd hired a hit man to kill Elsa. So Elsa asked me to bring her to see Cassie. I don't know what went wrong in there. All I know is that there was a lot of gunfire and I found Cassie Dover right there and Ellison is inside the house, dead."

  "Where's Andy Bridges?" Rafe glared at Fleming as he looked him square in the eyes.

  "Andy was hit over the head and is unconscious. He's on the porch. I called this in and the crime-scene people should be here shortly. And an ambulance is on its way."

  "If Elsa went into the house, and she's not there now, then she had to have come out," Rafe said. "If you were standing guard out here, how could she have left without your seeing her?"

  "Maybe she went out the back door. I don't know."

  "You lying son of a bitch."

  "What do you want us to do, Chief?" one of the uni­formed officers asked.

  Rafe knew he had to act quickly, which meant doing something that under other circumstances would have been stupid to do—threaten a law enforcement officer. But Chief Fleming, a dirty cop, stood between him and finding Elsa. He had no choice but to force Fleming's hand. He was willing to do anything it took to make Fleming talk, even if it meant risking his own life.

  With his back to the policemen, Rafe slid his hands down Fleming's lapels, preparing to release the chief, as he'd been ordered to do. The very second Rafe let go, he slipped his hands into his coat pocket and removed the Glock he'd borrowed from Frank. Then with lightning speed he stuck the pistol in Fleming's gut.

  "Tell your boys to put away their weapons," Rafe or­dered. "Then you're going to start talking or I'll kill you."

  "You won't shoot me, Devlin."

  "Are you willing to bet your life on it?"

  Chapter 16

  Elsa could hear Harry behind her, his footsteps crunching in the ice just beginning to form on the cracked and uneven sidewalks. Although her chest ached from running in the frigid air and fear ate away at her confidence like a fast-acting poison, she didn't stop and she didn't look back. But she did glance from side to side and soon realized that Cassie's house was in the worst part of Honey Town, where buildi
ng after building had been condemned, and the people occupying the dilapidated structures weren't the type who'd help a damsel in distress. The location and the weather worked against her. Until she could get out of this neighborhood, she was on her own.

  If she couldn't rely on anyone helping her, then she needed one of two things, preferably both—a place to hide and a weapon. Even though Harry was much larger and physically stronger than she, if he didn't have a gun, she might stand a chance against him. At the present moment her only defense was the likelihood that Harry wouldn't shoot her down in cold blood on the off chance someone might witness his crime and actually testify against him. Harry might be a vicious criminal, but he wasn't crazy. No, he would keep following her until she had run out of options, then when he felt safe, he would kill her.

  Any other time she'd have her cell phone with her. But that phone, along with all her other worldly possessions had gone up in flames early this morning when her house burned. The house she loved, the new furniture she'd gone into debt to buy, the nice clothes she was so proud of— all gone. Everything!

  Stop lamenting your house and its contents, she scolded herself, as she came to the intersection of Twelfth Street and Sycamore Avenue. Running across the street, she searched both ways for any sign of a vehicle and saw the headlights of a car as it turned a block away from her. Oh, God, why hadn't that car come this way?