Sarah patted the pocket that held his taped confession. “I know I can get Carl to talk. And you can protect me long enough for Rossi to see that I’m there and to call off his henchmen with Kirk’s family. If you do love me, then let me do this, Dad.”
He looked up at her. “You can’t ask that.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling. Either you help me, or I’ll do it myself when you’re behind bars. I’ll go alone.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Sarah gave Carl a withering look as he settled in the driver’s seat. She hated being near him again, but along with her father’s taped confession, they needed proof that Carl was working with Rossi and that Rossi—or more likely, one of his hit men—was responsible for shooting Archer.
Grant leaned through Sarah’s open window and looked over at Carl. “Drop her off a block away from the funeral home. My guys will take over from there.”
“Got it, boss,” Carl said.
A little too eagerly, Sarah thought. She chalked it up to his being happy he was out of jail. But not for long. If they played this right, if she got him talking, Carl would be locked up for years.
And so will Dad. The thought was accompanied by a myriad of feelings, each disturbing. Part of her—the hurt, angry Sarah who’d confronted her father at gunpoint yesterday—was glad. He’d done terrible things and deserved to go to prison, should have been put away years ago. But in a different corner of her heart, she could hardly bear the thought of seeing her dad behind bars. She realized that in his own way he’d also loved and protected her.
Still standing beside the car, Grant turned his attention to Sarah. “Be careful.” Their eyes met for the briefest moment, then he leaned in, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. As he backed away, Carl stepped on the accelerator and the car went speeding down the road, headed toward Boston and the funeral of the man she’d killed. It was the last place she wanted to go, and J.D. Rossi was the last person she wanted to meet, but keeping Christa and the boys safe necessitated doing things this way. Sarah prayed that the bulletproof vest beneath her bulky sweater, and the plainclothes police officers stationed at and around the funeral home, would keep her safe.
Conscious of the tiny microphone hidden beneath her collar, she rolled up the window and glanced at Carl. He seemed uncharacteristically quiet—the one time she wanted to get him talking. She shuddered involuntarily. If he’d done the things she suspected he had, then he was even worse than she’d always known him to be. But at the very least he was prone to violence, anger, lechery, and—grinning.
From the corner of her eye Sarah caught Carl’s leer as he changed lanes, taking a left from Massachusetts Avenue onto Main.
“I thought we were supposed to take the Harvard Bridge,” she said casually.
Carl didn’t respond but continued to speed down Main. Sarah moved her right hand slowly, edging toward her pocket with the cell phone.
He drove faster, just making the last traffic light before the Longfellow Bridge.
Sarah’s fingers closed around the phone.
“Hey!” Carl swerved, slamming her into the door. “Whatcha got? Show me your hand.”
She dropped the phone in her lap where he could see it. She’d already dialed.
He grabbed it, lowered his window a couple of inches, and threw it out. “Any other tricks?”
“No.” It wasn’t the time to pull out the gun concealed beneath her sweater. She cowered in her seat, but inside she was simmering. What does Carl think he’s doing? Her earlier confidence began draining away, and she wondered if she’d been completely stupid, getting herself into this situation. Maybe she should have driven herself to the funeral, done what she needed to make sure Christa and the boys were safe, then dealt with the Carl issue later. “Where are we going? Rossi won’t like it if we’re late.”
“We won’t be. We’ve even got time for a little fun before you two meet, and you owe me, princess.” Carl reached over, squeezing her knee. “I’ve been sitting in jail because of you.”
She pushed his hand away. “My dad got you out.”
“But Rossi pays better,” Carl said. “Since I told him where to find you, I’ve made more than I do in six months working for the chief.”
I knew it! Sarah stared straight ahead, careful to mask her excitement. This was exactly what they needed. She hoped the mic was picking everything up. “You’re working for Rossi?” she asked, doing her best to sound shocked.
“Yep. And let me tell you, even from the inside of a jail cell, it’s a lot more exciting than following you around.” Carl pounded his fist on the wheel. “Rossi makes things happen.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, still feigning shocked surprise.
“I mean the way we took care of your boyfriend—or his friend, at least. Either way, your guy doesn’t have much in life left to look forward to. We fixed him real good.”
Sarah swallowed uneasily. For the first time she felt grateful that Jay was in jail, where he was safe for the time being. She refocused her attention on getting Carl’s confession while keeping track of their route and surroundings. Just a little more information, and I’ll jump out at the next light, get away from Carl, find a way to get where I’m supposed to be . . .
“Jay’s roommate?” she asked, returning to one of the last things Carl had said. “The one who was shot on the same night a man attacked me in the alley?”
“All me,” Carl said, gloating. “I told them where your boyfriend worked and how to find you there, and in exchange they took care of the kid for me. When you posted bail for your boyfriend, I was afraid the kid might go soft and spill his part of the planted drugs.”
“So you shot Archer?” Sarah’s voice escalated.
“Not me.” Carl raised his hands and shook his head. “I was locked up; there’s no way anyone can pin that on me.”
Sarah’s stomach twisted with fear and anger as Carl sped through two more lights, taking them farther and farther from their intended course. “Maybe not, but there’s another murder on your head—from the fire you started that killed Mrs. Larson.”
“Wasn’t my idea,” Carl said. “The night after I almost ran your boyfriend over—should have—I followed him and heard him and this other guy arguing. One of them mentioned something about a fire—gave me the idea.”
Tears burned behind Sarah’s eyes as she thought of Mrs. Larson. Carl sped up again, driving so fast Sarah began to fear they’d get in an accident. She looked out the window, wondering what her chances were if she jumped out while the car was moving. They were on the north end of town now, heading toward the waterfront.
“Not thinking of leaving, are you?” Carl’s fist wound through her hair, pulling her toward him. “It’s gonna hurt my feelings if you don’t give me some of what he’s been getting.”
“I’d rather die.” She grabbed Carl’s hand, trying to pry his fingers away.
“That’s already been arranged, sweetheart. But in the meantime, I like these curls, this new look. It’s—”
She threw her head back, smashing into his chin. The car swerved. Carl released her as he fought to get it under control. A van passed them on the right, its horn blaring. Sarah unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle.
“Go ahead,” Carl said. “Rossi’s got a man tailing us. You leave now, they’ll shoot you right on the street.”
Sarah hesitated, turning in her seat to look back. Carl made a right turn. A sedan two cars behind them followed. She couldn’t be certain, but it looked an awful lot like the one the men who’d tried to kidnap James had been driving. Remembering them—and the way she’d pepper-sprayed one and shot the other in the hand—she suddenly wasn’t so sure now was the time to jump. Better to take her chances with Carl a little longer. At least she was positive he was unarmed. If I can just get my gun out . . .
Carl took a side street, slamming her into the door again, and headed straight for the wharf. The car stayed with them. He grinned. “Told
you. When I heard the chief was gonna spring me this morning, I made a little phone call. And anyway, you don’t want to leave and miss the boat ride.”
Sarah’s gaze swung around to the front and the yacht anchored off the closest dock. “Rossi isn’t going to like you interrupting his plans like this.
“I’m not.” Carl chuckled. “Whose boat do you think that is? Rossi’s taking care of your dad across town, but he wanted you here—says it makes things convenient for getting rid of bodies.” Carl pulled up along the curb, cut the engine, and jumped out of the car.
Sarah stayed in her seat, her father’s voice ringing in her head again, as insistent as he had been last night when they went over and over their plan.
Rossi is evil. He has no qualms about killing, or making his victims suffer first—especially if they’ve caused him trouble. You’ve caused him trouble. Don’t go anywhere with Rossi or one of his men. There will be plenty of people at the funeral to protect you.
But I’m not at the funeral! she wanted to scream.
Carl came around the car and reached for the handle. She pushed the door open, shoving it into him, then pulled it shut, locking it and scrambling to the driver’s seat to get out of the car that way.
She had one foot on the pavement when Carl dove over the hood and grabbed for her. Sarah screamed for help. Carl ran around the door and hauled her from the car as she fought him. She was reaching for his face when he spun away and a fist connected with his jaw, barely missing hers. Sarah looked up at her rescuer. “Jay!”
“Move,” he shouted, punching Carl again, hard, in the eye. She cringed at the crunching sound and jumped aside as Carl fell back to the pavement.
Jay shook his hand out. “Wanted to do that for a long time. Come on!” His other hand grabbed Sarah’s, and they ran toward the car she’d seen following them earlier.
“It was you? You were following us? But how—” She stopped suddenly, tugging on Jay to get him to do the same. A man with a drawn gun was coming straight at them.
“It’s okay,” Jay said as the man sprinted past, heading toward Carl, who was struggling to get up. “He’s with me—I’m with him. Hurry.” He continued to pull her to the car. A bullet whizzed past them, coming from the direction of the dock.
Instinctively she crouched down, running with Jay to the driver’s side. They both dove in—Sarah in back—and pulled the doors shut.
Jay started the engine and put the car in gear.
“What’s going on?” Sarah asked. “How are you here? Who is that man?” She leaned forward over the front seat, looking out the windshield, watching as Carl began raising his hands as if to surrender. The man who’d passed them stepped closer, gun trained on Carl one second, his entire body crumpling to the ground the next. Sarah flinched then gasped at the reverberating sound of a gunshot. “Who—Carl doesn’t have a weapon.”
Jay tossed her a cell phone. “Call 911. And get down.” He pulled away from the curb.
Sarah punched in the numbers as the car rolled forward and she continued to stare at Carl.
“Look. He doesn’t have a gun. Just a phone.”
“And now isn’t a good time for him to be making a call.” Jay pressed down on the accelerator and cranked the wheel to the right, driving straight toward Carl. “Hold on.” The car bumped over the sidewalk, chasing him to the edge of the wharf. At the last second Jay swerved, keeping them from following Carl over the side into the bay.
Sarah clung to the seat back with one hand as she spoke into the phone, requesting an ambulance and police. Jay drove off the grass, back onto the street, and away from the wharf.
“What about that man? The one you said you were with?” Sarah turned around in her seat to see if he had moved at all. “We can’t just leave him.”
“We have to,” Jay said. “Carl wasn’t the one doing the shooting. Someone else is still out there—someone who wants you dead. Agent Miller would expect us to leave.”
“Agent?” Sarah said. “As in—”
“DEA, FBI—I’m not really sure,” Jay said. “There are so many people involved in this now.”
“So many people hurt because of me. Another person has been shot because of me.” Sarah climbed over the seat to the front.
“Not because of you.” Jay gave her a rueful look. “Someone might still follow us. You should stay in back. It’d be safer for you to lie down there.”
“So you can be the target?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She reached under her sweater, pulling a pistol from a belt at her waist. “We should go back.”
Jay looked in the rearview mirror. “No. Give the police some time to get there.”
Sarah turned around in her seat. “It’ll be too late then. That man may be dying.”
“He’s a trained professional,” Jay said. “I know how you feel, but I can’t just take you back there. It isn’t safe.”
“Like I’ve ever been safe,” Sarah said, but she faced forward in her seat again. “Want to tell me what’s going on then? How you’re out of jail, how you knew where I’d be?”
“You sprang Carl just as the feds were arriving to chat with him. They’d gotten word of Rossi’s vacation plans, and Kirk convinced them it’d be wise to see if Carl knew any details—like where you were.” Jay looked over at her, relief evident on his face. “But then you were there, and appeared to be going with him willingly. I knew that couldn’t be the case, so I got in the car with Agent Miller to follow you.”
“But you were in jail too,” Sarah said. The sound of wailing sirens came from the direction of the wharf.
“I only spent about five hours locked up—long enough for Kirk to make sure a story about my arrest broke that night, and long enough for the DEA to come in and take over.”
“So this whole time—these past two days—you’ve been free?”
“Free and frantic.” Jay reached over and squeezed her hand. “We tried to find you. An agent searched your dad’s house when he wasn’t home. Others combed the neighborhood. Kirk and I even spent the night at his friend’s house again, hoping you might come back there.”
“You mean the house you and I stayed at—the one with the motor home parked beside it?” Hysteria tinged her voice.
“Yes.” He glanced at Sarah as she leaned her head against the seat and laughed.
“Oh, Jay.”
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so happy to see you, so glad you’re okay.”
“Okay? I think I aged about twenty years worrying about you the past couple of days.”
“I’m fine. And I think we should go back now. You heard the sirens. The police are probably there.”
“Still not a good idea,” Jay said, moving into the left turn lane. “Why did you go with Carl in the first place? Did your dad force you? Did he find you in the attic?”
Sarah shook her head. “I was trying to get testimony from Carl. My dad’s already given his, and then Carl was supposed to take me—the funeral! Christa and the boys. What time is it?” She pushed back her sleeve and looked at her watch. “If I don’t meet my dad there, something bad will happen to Kirk’s family.”
“Your dad can’t meet you anywhere. He was arrested as soon as you and Carl took off—or at least that was the plan last I heard.”
“He was leaving to meet Rossi at a funeral as soon as we left,” Sarah said. “Most of Dad’s officers are already there—undercover. We had a big meeting with everyone at the station at six this morning.” She placed her hand on Jay’s sleeve. “If Dad doesn’t show with me, then Christa and the boys are in trouble. Rossi knows where they are.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to Kirk’s family.” The light changed and Jay made a left turn. “The night Kirk arrested me, your dad threatened Christa and the boys, alerting Kirk that your dad—and whoever he was working with—might know where they were. Federal agents picked them up that night. I don’t think
they’re even in the state now.”
“Really?” Sarah leaned against the headrest, sighing with relief. “Then I don’t have to meet with Rossi, I don’t have to—” She frowned. “But you aren’t positive my dad was arrested?”
“Call Kirk. He was there. He’ll know.” Jay nodded to the phone still in her hand. “And ask him if he thinks it’s a good idea if I take you back to the wharf.”
Sarah found Kirk’s number and called, putting him on speakerphone when he answered.
“Hi, Kirk,” Sarah said. “I’m with Jay, and he told me my dad had been arrested. I was wondering if you could tell me where they took him.”
“Are you two all right?” Kirk asked, his voice sounding odd and strained as it carried through the phone.
“We are,” Jay said. “But Detective Miller was hit. Sarah called 911, and an ambulance and police should be there by now. There was only one shooter that I could tell, though possibly more on the boat.”
“I doubt it,” Kirk said. “Agents combed Rossi’s yacht this morning and found absolutely nothing—no one. It was a false lead.”
“But that’s exactly where Carl took her,” Jay said.
“What about my dad?” Sarah asked again. She didn’t care about Carl or yachts right now, but a sickening feeling of urgency was growing in the pit of her stomach. If her dad had been arrested—fine. They both knew that was going to happen before the day’s end, and it meant he was safe. But if he’d gone to see Rossi alone . . .
“The DEA wasn’t able to apprehend him because a car picked him up almost as soon as you and Carl had pulled away from the curb. Unfortunately our tail lost them. Do you have any idea where he might be headed?” Kirk asked. “Almost all the officers from his station are missing too. Do you know anything about that?”
“Yes,” Sarah answered, dread settling deep in her heart. “I know exactly where they are.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
All The Stars In Heaven Page 36
