by Kay Hooper
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying. You’ve been trying to control events since I met Quentin. The same way you always try to control events. Only this time it wasn’t business deals or doctors, or just keeping your daughter too medicated to live a normal life. This time it was twisted people with evil agendas of their own. You thought you could control them and use them to destroy the SCU, destroy Bishop.”
He hardly seemed to be breathing as he stared at her.
“I wonder what it cost you to hire enough private investigators or pay off enough cops or feds to find the information you wanted—a name. The name of someone who hated Bishop as much as you did and was willing to go to any lengths to destroy him. Whatever it cost, you got that name. Samuel. Adam Deacon Samuel. A man who already had the SCU in his sights, had already begun to test them and test their defenses.
“You didn’t much care about the rest, did you? Didn’t care how sick and twisted he was. Didn’t care about the victims of his evil, their bodies piling up like cordwood. Didn’t care about the people in his so-called church, the children he was damaging and killing. And of course you didn’t believe he had any kind of paranormal ability. All you knew, all you needed to know, was that he wanted to destroy the SCU. So you helped him.”
“I made a donation to a church,” he said finally, his voice more hoarse than before.
“You made a donation to a monster.” She shook her head slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ll pay for what you did. I don’t know what Bishop means to do with the evidence he has and will have, but whatever it is, I’ll help him.”
“Diana—”
“I’ll help him. But whatever he does or doesn’t do, you’re no longer a part of my life. No longer my father. As far as I’m concerned, you’re as evil as Samuel was. And the world should be rid of you both.”
Serenade
“Told you we wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep,” Tony said to Jaylene, yawning, as they relieved two other agents in the command center shortly after six A.M.
“Hey, I got plenty,” she said, sitting down at a console and logging in to the computer. “But then, I went to bed when we got back to the B&B. How long did you stay down in the dining room talking?”
“You make it sound social,” Tony complained, logging in at a second work console. “A bunch of us were working things through. Trying to get a handle on the situation. Weren’t making much headway until Dean came off duty at midnight and joined us for coffee.”
“Coffee at midnight. Yeah, that’ll help you sleep.”
Tony ignored that. “Plus, that’s around the time Reese and Hollis got back. With the great news about Diana being okay. And with more pieces of the puzzle.”
“Confirmation,” Jaylene said. “We’d already figured out this had Samuel’s name written all over it. Or, at least, Miranda had.”
“True enough. Nice to have it confirmed, though. And am I the only one who finds it totally creepy that this bastard is still after us from his grave?”
“No.”
Tony sighed. “Anyway, when Dean came off duty, he said he’d been pulling up everything he could find on Taryn Holder, looking for a connection to somebody here in town.”
“And not finding one, I take it.”
“No, but at least he made a solid start. Now we keep looking.”
About to start work, Jaylene paused to say, “You know, it hit me last night that we haven’t even talked about that poor reporter.”
“I hate to be blunt about it, but what’s to say? She was warned, they all were.”
“Yeah, I know that. And being equally blunt, that’s not what I was thinking about. The sniper could have just as easily shot Miranda. So why didn’t he? Why choose the reporter?”
“To shake up all the noncombatants around here, maybe.” Tony shrugged. “That’s what I’d do.”
Jaylene stared at him.
“Oh, come on, I mean thinking from the bad guy’s point of view. That is what profiling is all about, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. My point, however, is that maybe Miranda was also right in suggesting that at least some of this could have been designed to draw Bishop out. Offering stark proof that he could have taken Miranda out might be expected to do that.”
“So would taking her out,” Tony countered.
“That’s what a typical enemy might think. But what if the enemy is psychic, Tony? Psychic enough to know that all he’d gain by taking Miranda out would be Bishop paralyzed at best—and dead somewhere far away at worst?”
Tony shook his head slowly. “There aren’t half a dozen people outside the SCU who know that the connection between Bishop and Miranda makes them that vulnerable.”
“But they are that vulnerable. Kill one, and you’ll very likely kill the other as well, or at the very least incapacitate him or her. Because they’re connected, and on a level deeper than any we’ve ever found, even between blood siblings. What if the sniper knows that? Because he’s psychic himself, or because Samuel was. And if he knows, what if killing Bishop long distance—as it were—isn’t good enough?”
“Then… you’re right. Taking out the reporter when she was two feet away from Miranda might be expected to bring Bishop here, and in a hurry. Makes sense. Bishop, more than any of the rest of us, is the one Samuel was always after. And the setup here sure as hell has all the earmarks of a trap.”
“Which is another indication that the sniper could be local, or at least somehow connected to this place. He’s moving around too freely for it to be otherwise. He knows this place like the back of his hand.”
After a moment, Tony said, “Tell you what. Why don’t you keep digging into Taryn Holder’s background?”
“While you do what?”
“While I start checking into the backgrounds of all the Pageant County deputies.”
“You seriously think it’s a cop?”
“I think that sniper has some serious military training, and if this is home, the only job he might feel comfortable in would be one where he carries a gun.”
“It’s a leap,” Jaylene said after a pause.
“Not a big one. There’s been so much confusion since the bomb, even before, that a deputy who knew the terrain could have slipped away long enough to play sniper. And we should rule it out. Hell, we should have ruled it out after the sniper took his first shots.”
“True enough. Okay. Let’s dig.”
Gabriel Wolf studied the old farmhouse, adjusting the binoculars until he had a crystal-clear view. There was no movement, no sign of life.
Maybe he’s playing possum, Roxanne suggested.
“Why would he be?” Gabriel kept his voice low. “You kept watch all night, and if Bishop knows what he’s talking about, this guy won’t pick up on either of us psychically.”
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know about us.
“Oh, I’m betting he knows about us. I’m betting he spotted us. Bastard has the advantage of knowing this place, and well.”
Don’t be so disgruntled about it. We couldn’t have known.
“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel frowned as the binoculars finally picked up a bit of movement in what he judged to be the kitchen windows. “Hold on. Looks like he’s finally up.”
About time.
Gabriel watched intently and was rewarded a little more than ten minutes later: A tall, dark man somewhere in his late forties, with a distinctly military bearing despite his casual jeans and a sweatshirt, came out of the house. The rifle Gabriel knew he carried today was concealed in an oversize duffel bag. The man appeared to feel safe, showing no signs of unease or worry as he crossed the small yard and briskly made his way down the long, fence-bordered drive toward the main road. And town.
“Man, I want to take him out,” Gabriel muttered.
Not the plan. We have nothing on the other one, you know that. We have to draw him out.
“Yeah. But I don’t have to like it.” Gabr
iel touched the almost invisible com device in his ear. “Hey. He’s on the move.”
“Got him,” a voice whispered back. “Our information says the one in the house should give you no trouble. But watch yourself.”
“Copy that.” He touched the com again, continued to watch the sniper until he was well away from the house, and then left his own place of concealment to begin moving cautiously toward it.
It was just after eight A.M. when Dean Ramsey joined Tony and Jaylene in the command center. He was bearing hot coffee and news. “Check your emails,” he advised them. “Word from Bishop.”
Tony groaned. “My eyes are already starting to cross from looking at this screen the last couple of hours.”
“Find anything?”
“I dunno. Maybe.” Tony blew absently on the hot coffee to cool it, staring at the screen. “There’s military training here, just not the kind we’re looking for. At least—”
Jaylene swore under her breath. She turned her head to stare at Tony. “Check your email. Looks like you were right, Tony. The sniper’s connected to this town, all right.”
Dean said, “And that’s not all he’s connected to.”
Tony checked his email, opened the file from Bishop, and began to read. Only a couple of paragraphs in, he was swearing as well, and not under his breath. “Jesus. I don’t believe it. How did we not know—”
“Because Galen didn’t know,” Dean interrupted. “The connection went back too far. Finish reading. And then you guys put your corns in. We’re moving outside in just a few minutes.”
The key was under the flowerpot, as promised. Gabriel unlocked the door and slipped into the old farmhouse, moving with utter silence.
Not as much fun for me, Roxanne noted. A key, for crying out loud.
With hardly a breath of sound, Gabriel said, “Keep watch, Rox. Just because he’s not supposed to be any trouble doesn’t mean he won’t be.”
Okay, okay. Lemme see…. He’s in the basement. Door’s in the kitchen, Gabe.
Gabriel made his way to the kitchen, still moving without a sound, gun drawn and ready. He found the basement door easily enough, his brows lifting as he noted the bolt locking it from this side.
Keeping something in rather than out, don’t you think? Because there’s no other exit from the basement. Bishop was right. They must believe the leash has been slipping. Be careful, Gabe.
He unlocked the bolt carefully, then just as carefully eased the door open. As soon as he did, he heard a sound coming from the basement.
Humming.
And a cheery tune, no less. Jesus.
Without responding out loud, Gabriel moved slowly and cautiously down the well-lit stairs and into a very bright basement. There was lots of white tile and stainless steel, and large lights illuminated the space more brightly than daylight.
There were two stainless-steel tables. On one lay a clear-plastic-wrapped body that barely appeared to be human.
The other table was covered with thickly coagulated blood, which was in the process of being washed off and down the big drain in the floor. The man wielding the hose looked very much like the man who had left the house only minutes before, except that he was perhaps a few years younger and there was nothing military in his bearing.
At all.
And there was a definite light of madness in his eyes when he turned his head, saw Gabriel, and smiled.
“Hello. BJ said I could clean up this time. He was too tired last night. Did Bubba send you?”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said, holding his voice even with an effort. “Bubba sent me. We need to go to town, Rex.”
Ruby crept into Bailey’s bedroom early, to double-check, and was satisfied to find one of her guardians still sleeping. Just to make sure, she put her hand on Bailey’s shoulder and concentrated for several long moments before stepping away from the bed.
Without much effort at all, she made the bed shimmer and then seemingly transform. Where before there had been tumbled covers and a dark-haired woman sleeping, now there was only a neatly made bed. Good. Bailey would be safe here. Until it was all over.
She went downstairs, finding Galen pouring coffee in the kitchen.
“You’re up early,” he commented.
“I didn’t sleep very well,” Ruby confessed. She got cereal for herself from the pantry, then milk from the fridge and a bowl and spoon. “Are you going to rest when Bailey gets up?”
“Probably.” he said, joining her at the kitchen table.
She fixed her cereal, took several bites, then said, “You haven’t tried to listen to the voices, have you?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” he told her. “Still nothing I can understand. Voices, but not really words.”
“I expect they don’t want you to hear them now.”
He frowned. “Ruby, do you know where the voices are coming from?”
“They were let in when Father died,” she told him, her voice matter-of-fact. “Before that, they just listened.”
“Listened? To who?”
“To you. To your friends. The team. Father needed a spy. He was pleased when he found them. Because even though they knew about you, you didn’t know about them.”
Galen began to feel very, very cold. “Ruby, what’re you talking about?”
“Your brothers.”
“I don’t have any brothers.”
She looked at him with those too-old eyes. “No, you never knew about them. Your mother never told you the good man who raised you wasn’t your father. She made sure nobody knew about him. Changed her name, moved far away from here. Because your biological father was… really mean. He hurt your mother, and your brothers. He would have hurt you if he’d known about you. But your mother kept you secret. Until she was able to run away. She couldn’t take your brothers. They were already… wrong. Twisted. Because of him. She knew. She wanted to save you. So she ran away.”
“Ruby—”
“I would have told you sooner, but… I didn’t know until just after I got here. And even then, it was sort of fuzzy. There were so many chess pieces on the board, you know?”
The coldness Galen felt went all the way to his marrow. He stared at her sweet, innocent face with its too-old eyes and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was telling him the truth. He had brothers. And, more important to him, they had been inside his head, maybe for a long time, spying on him. And on the unit.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ruby told him. “Bishop knows that. The rest will too. Father was awfully powerful. He could do things most people can’t even imagine. And he planned ahead.”
His training kicked in automatically, and he said, “If they’re in me, then they know about you. I have to get you out of here.”
Sadly, Ruby said, “I’m sorry. Please don’t blame yourself, okay? That’s not the way it’s supposed to end.”
“The little freak’s right.”
Galen tried, but he was barely able to rise from his chair, barely caught a glimpse of the tall man standing in the doorway, before he heard the muffled sneezes of a silenced automatic and felt bullets slamming into his chest.
Eighteen
HOLLIS CRADLED HER coffee mug between her hands and looked rather blearily at Miranda. “I know I slept. The clock says so. But I feel like I just had a lost weekend or something.”
“According to Reese, it took hours and you expended a great deal of energy in healing Diana. That’s the way it works when you heal. In a way, you give up part of yourself. Bonnie tells me it’s quite an amazing feeling.”
Considering, Hollis said, “Right now it’s mostly a tired feeling. So you guys already knew about Samuel.”
“We worked it out.”
“And you’ve identified the sniper?”
“Yeah, the pieces finally came together, thanks in large part to the information Elliot Brisco provided.”
“Glad the son of a bitch did something right. Poor Diana.”
“Yeah, despite how well she’s
handling it now, it’s not going to be easy for her.”
“Will LeMott destroy him? Brisco?”
“Probably. He’s … merciless. And we could never have proven anything against Brisco in a courtroom.”
“So we let LeMott have his revenge?”
“Let’s call it justice,” Miranda suggested.
Hollis nodded. “It’s fine with me. Jesus. Anyway, what about the sniper?”
“Knowing who he is is one thing. What we have to do now is draw him out.”
“And how’re you—we—going to do that?”
“Bait.” There was a crackle in her ear, and Miranda heard her name. She reached up to activate the tiny com. “Go.”
“Got him,” Gabriel said.
“He give you any trouble?”
“Nah, came along like a lamb. Smiling yet. But wait’ll you get a look at what’s in his basement.”
“I can hardly wait. You know what to do.”
“Copy that.”
Miranda tapped the com again, then said to Hollis, “Sure you’re up for this?”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this final curtain to drop for a long, long time.”
“I think we all have. Don’t forget your vest.”
“Right. Where’s Reese?”
“Out there with Dean and the others. And I’m hoping his spider sense is working, because the rest of us are having trouble sensing much of anything.” Miranda finished her own coffee and got to her feet. “Stay clear of the command center. I hope I’m wrong, but I’ve got a feeling it’ll be a target.”
“So who’s manning it?”
“Nobody. See you outside.” Miranda left the B&B’s dining room, adjusting her vest and the gun on her hip a bit absently and then going out onto the porch. She knew there were agents and cops and deputies all around, but it was peculiarly quiet, and that bothered her.
She touched her com again. “Anything?”
The response whispered back immediately: “No. But Reese is antsy and so am I. Something’s not right.”
“But you’re in position?”
“Yeah. Watch yourself.”
Miranda strolled along the sidewalk, outwardly casual or preoccupied, wondering if, this time, they had been a bit too clever for their own good. Hiding Bishop in plain sight had worked once before, but here there was an inside man to contend with and no way for them to be sure how he would react.
