Fifth Victim

by Zoe Sharp

  ‘Oh, great.’ I gave a shaky laugh that turned sharply downhill somewhere in my chest. ‘So, now I’m going to worry about you keeping bad news from me.’

  His hands tightened again, and he ducked his head, forcing me to make eye contact. ‘I won’t lie to you, either,’ he said. ‘Nothing’s changed since we last spoke, OK?’

  Parker’s concern and his integrity were two of the characteristics I valued most about him. But suddenly the image of dancing together at the charity auction seemed very fresh and clear in my mind. My heart rate accelerated, mouth drying. I looked into those cool grey eyes and saw I wasn’t the only one assailed by the memory.

  ‘He’s interested,’ Dina had said. ‘I can tell.’ At the time, I’d dismissed it as her attempt to get a rise out of me.

  But if it wasn’t … what then?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Parker said again.

  And then he stepped in close, cupped my face between gentle hands, and kissed me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  It was the tenderness that was almost my undoing. With Sean, the sexual fascination between us had always been so fierce, so intense, that at times it almost seemed like confrontation.

  But Parker revealed himself completely in the brief longing of his touch. It lit along my nerves like ice and fire and drew responses I wasn’t prepared for, including the urge to meet him more than halfway.

  This wasn’t just sex. This was love.

  Confusion reigning, I broke the kiss, stepped back. But, glancing into his face I saw anguish in the realisation of what he might have given away of himself in that evanescent moment. Of what it might mean – for all of us. He took a breath.

  And I realised with a flowering dismay that I could fall for him. If I let myself. They might share many traits, but he was not Sean. I would not open my eyes every morning and see an echo of what I had lost. This could be something else completely. If I let it.

  I reached up, touched his cheek, murmured, ‘Don’t.’

  He captured my hand with his own, held it while he turned his head and pressed his lips into my palm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I never meant for—’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Neither did I.’

  He gave a rueful smile that did nothing to quiet the chaos of his gaze, and let go of me. With distance, we could both regain some semblance of sanity.

  In a voice that was still woefully inadequate, I said, ‘Wow, it must be bad news if you’re prepared to go to those kind of lengths to distract me.’

  He knew what I was doing, of course he did, but he let it ride. Eventually, with great reluctance, he said, ‘I had a call from Epps.’

  ‘Conrad Epps?’ It was a stupid question, but the connotations knocked me sideways into stupidity. Conrad Epps held some high-grade position within the US security services. I could only guess at the scope of his power, but when my father had found himself in serious trouble over here the previous winter, only someone with Epps’s clout had been able to disentangle him.

  The only trouble was, once you turned over the kind of rock men like Epps liked to lurk under, it could never quite be turned back again. He didn’t do favours for nothing – he kept score. And because of that, we were sucked into his private war with the Fourth Day cult in California, during which … Well, let’s just say that if Epps had left well alone, Sean would not be in his current condition.

  I had very mixed feelings about Conrad Epps.

  ‘What does he want now?’ I demanded roughly. ‘And what’s it going to cost us this time?’

  Parker raised an eyebrow. He was regaining his poise, but there was still a tension about him that I mistakenly put down to our encounter, rather than the news he had to impart.

  ‘He called with an apology – and a warning,’ he said. ‘Charlie … they lost him.’

  ‘Lost …?’ It took me a moment to put the correct meaning on that word. Lost as in misplaced, as in escaped. As in free and clear …

  And this time, I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about.

  I knew.

  The man who had put Sean in his coma, who had lied and cheated, and murdered, for no more desperate reason than his own desire to possess something that didn’t belong to him. For greed. For power.

  Shit!

  ‘I should have killed that fucker when I had the chance.’

  ‘Then we wouldn’t be here,’ Parker said quietly.

  ‘No,’ I agreed. I tried to raise a smile and only got halfway. ‘At best, I’d probably be on Death Row.’

  Parker shook his head with a hint of sadness. ‘Epps wouldn’t have let you die, Charlie,’ he said. ‘How could he just let someone with your … talent go to waste? But he would have owned you to the grave.’

  I didn’t respond to that. It’s always hard to counter an argument you recognise to be bloody impregnable.

  ‘How?’ I said then. ‘How did he get away, I mean?’ I couldn’t even bring myself to say the man’s name. It was easier to be coolly objective about the whole thing. To speak about him as an abstract concept, rather than an utterly worthless human being.

  ‘Epps was not forthcoming with details,’ Parker said dryly.

  ‘Yeah, no surprises there.’

  He sighed. ‘Look, I know how you feel. Trust me. I was there. I saw what that bastard did – and not just to Sean.’

  I swallowed down the sour taste in my mouth, recognised that Parker had been as hurt by what had happened almost as much as I had. We’d both lost Sean, however permanent or temporary that might turn out to be. Perhaps it was the solidarity of loss that had just brought us together – or so I tried to tell myself.

  ‘I thought Epps would have used him up and spat out the empty husk by now,’ I said instead. ‘It’s not like him to be merciful.’

  Parker leant his shoulder against the glass wall, his face bathed in soft reflected light from the last of the evening sun. ‘Well, I guess the guy could be pretty persuasive, you have to give him that.’ And if he sounded regretful, it was perhaps because we’d both been taken in, at one time or another. ‘In this case, all I know is he persuaded Epps he could give him a lead into various militia groups Fourth Day had ties to. Offered to go undercover.’

  I stared at him. ‘Jesus H Christ,’ I muttered. ‘Epps just bloody let him go and he did a runner.’

  Another twisted smile. ‘That would be my guess.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Six weeks ago.’

  ‘He’s been on the run for six weeks?’ I repeated. ‘And Epps is ringing you now?’

  Parker’s eyes flicked to mine. ‘Apparently, he believed he might still be able to retrieve him without making the fact public,’ he said solemnly. ‘The guy’s dropped right off the grid.’

  ‘I’d lay odds I could find him.’

  Another flicker. ‘Maybe that was another reason he didn’t tell us.’

  ‘Parker, I—’

  He moved closer and all the spit dried on my tongue, but all he did was look down at me, eyes roving my face. I don’t know what he was searching for, or if he found it.

  ‘Revenge is a poor servant, but a worse master,’ he said. ‘Don’t let it rule you, Charlie.’

  I won’t. Not yet.

  ‘In case it’s escaped you,’ I said, forcing a lightness I was a long way from feeling, ‘we’re up to our necks in a situation here. How can I think of going after anyone when we don’t know if Dina is alive or dead?’

  If Parker saw through the blatant evasion in my words, he didn’t get a chance to call me on it. Footsteps in the hall had us both turning. Landers entered, gaze taking in our tension, if not – I hoped – the reasons behind it.

  ‘Pathologist’s here, boss,’ he said.

  Parker nodded and turned away, pulling on a set of gloves to pick up the gruesome package. By the doorway he paused, glanced back.

  ‘And when we know – one way or the other,’ he said, ‘what then?’

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  The buzz o
f my cellphone brought me paddling resentfully out of sleep. By the time I was alert enough to react, the noise had stopped, as is always the way. I sat up, muttering under my breath, and reached for the phone anyway, recognising as I did so that it was a text message rather than a missed call.

  I was still fully clothed and lying on top of the bedclothes after Parker more or less ordered me to get some rest. It was only when I’d got to my room and crawled onto the bed that the aching tiredness caught up with me. All in all, I hadn’t much sleep over the past few days.

  I glanced blearily at my watch, realising I’d been out like the dead for over four hours.

  It was close to midnight. Dina’s ordeal had so far lasted thirty-eight hours, and showed no signs of ending yet.

  I didn’t recognise the number on the display but opened the message anyway.

  ‘MUST meet with you! Very urgent! I have vital info! Come alone! Tell no one! PLEASE!! Orlando.’

  The similarities with the message sent to lure Torquil into ambush were stark enough to kick-start my brain.

  I sat for a moment, furiously processing. Orlando had left her usual cellphone at her parents’ place. Or – more likely, I thought now – they’d made her leave it behind in the vain hope of breaking off her contact with her friends. But Orlando was clearly more resourceful than that.

  Only thing was, how had she got hold of my number?

  The Willners had it, of course. I’d made sure it was programmed into Dina’s phone, but that had been switched off since her abduction, the GPS tracker disabled. And if Dina had given the number to Orlando after she’d been taken, that meant Orlando was party to the other girl’s mutilation.

  I could only hope not.

  The only other person I’d given it to had been one of the original kidnappers, Ross, and I couldn’t see why he would have gone to Orlando with that information.

  I staggered into the bathroom and splashed cold water onto my face. It was only partially successful in waking me up. I was still stiff from being knocked off the Buell and this brief period of inactivity seemed to highlight every bruise and bang.

  I cleaned my teeth, changed my shirt for something slightly less crumpled, and headed back upstairs to the living area.

  Parker was sitting drinking coffee alone in the quiet room. Outside the glass, rain was falling at a steady slant in the moonlight, one of those freak weather events. I could see it pounding patches of water flat like wind across a field of corn.

  Parker rose when I came in, and the smile he gave me contained an inner brightness that both warmed and chilled me.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘Feeling better?’

  I said, awkward, ‘Too early to tell,’ which was the truth on many levels. ‘Any word on McGregor?’

  ‘Stable. No change. They’re hopeful, at least.’

  ‘Good.’ I held up my phone. ‘I’ve just received a text I think you ought to see.’

  I helped myself to coffee from the insulated cafetière on the table while he thumbed through the brief message, frowning.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ he said bluntly. ‘It’s a trap and they don’t care if we know it.’ He looked up, his eyes narrowed. ‘You want to do it, huh?’

  I nodded. ‘They’ve cut off half Dina’s ear, Parker. How can I not, if there’s a chance she’s still alive—?’

  ‘She is,’ he said. ‘Or, she was when the ear was severed, according to the pathologist. Something to do with the amount of blood in the tissue.’ He paused. ‘He reckons they probably used a pair of shears. Must have hurt like hell.’

  I shut that one out. ‘I’m going to this meet.’

  ‘Charlie—’

  ‘I’ve already sent a reply asking when and where.’

  His eyebrow went up. ‘Last time I checked, you still work for me,’ he said. ‘That makes me responsible for your safety.’

  ‘What safety? The bottom line in this job is to get ourselves killed before our client,’ I said, keeping my voice even. ‘Either this message really is from Orlando, in which case she might be able to give us something that gets us closer to Lennon or the guy he’s working with, or it’s a trap, as you say. In which case, I may have the opportunity to grab whoever’s sent to grab me. I have to go, Parker,’ I added, when he would have cut in again. ‘It’s as much part of the job as standing in front of them in a hostile crowd.’

  ‘Let me come with you—’

  ‘You can’t,’ I said gently. ‘What if they call again? We can’t take the risk.’

  He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. ‘OK, but stay sharp. And keep me informed. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ I murmured.

  My phone buzzed again and I checked the incoming message. ‘Ten minutes,’ I said, reading it. ‘The parking area just off the beach, near where Torquil was taken.’

  Parker’s face was grave. ‘Let’s just hope they’re not planning on a repeat performance.’

  I reached the parking area Orlando had specified exactly seven minutes later and found it deserted. There was a single multidirectional lamppost in the centre, but only half the bulbs appeared to be working, casting lopsided shadows across the space. The rain was still gusting through the beams, clouds scudding past a high moon.

  As I swung the Navigator round in a slow circle, the headlights played across wind-blown sandy asphalt and not a lot else.

  I parked up in the centre, on the darker side of the lamppost, facing the entrance. There, it would be difficult for anyone to advance from the scrub without being seen. I cracked the window, and cut the engine and the lights.

  The smells and sounds of the ocean drifted in through the slot above the glass. In the dark, the rush of breakers on the beach took on a monumental quality, even above the drum of rain on the SUV’s roof. I was suddenly very aware of my own insignificance in the great scheme of things.

  I touched a finger to my lips, as if I could still feel the imprint of Parker’s mouth on mine. What had happened between us still felt a little unreal, so that I was almost afraid to mention it to him, just in case it really had all been a dream. But then I remembered his smile, when I’d walked back into the living area.

  No, it hadn’t been a dream.

  But what the hell did I – did we – do about it?

  The attraction to Parker had taken me by surprise. He’d been brilliant since the shooting, compassionate, a real friend. But I’d never had eyes for anyone other than Sean and I felt loathsomely unfaithful, regardless of the circumstances leading up to that kiss.

  I rubbed a hand across my eyes. Combat stress could heighten emotions of all kinds, and maybe that was part of the reason for my confusion – little more than a dramatic release of tension. I told myself there would be a time to sort out my feelings. But later – much later.

  ‘How long are you going to wait for Sean?’ whispered an insistent little demon on my shoulder. ‘And how long do you think Parker will wait for you?’

  It was a relief to see a set of headlights turn off the main road at that moment. I squinted in the glare as the lights panned across the Navigator’s windscreen. They bounced a little as the vehicle behind them negotiated the rough shoulder leading to the car park.

  It pulled alongside me, nose to tail, and I recognised the outline of a 7 series BMW. Probably the same one that had brought Orlando and Manda to visit Dina, the day after Torquil had been kidnapped.

  A lot seemed to have happened since then.

  The driver’s door opened and a man got out. A big guy, built like a rugby player. As he turned, I caught him in profile and saw the broken nose that triggered my memory. So, she’d brought the same personal bodyguard with her as well.

  I opened the Navigator’s door and stepped down, keeping my arms relaxed. The rain instantly drenched my bare head and found its way straight down the back of my jacket collar, but the air was surprisingly warm.

  The bodyguard muscled in and flicked his fingers towards my hands, indicating I should sp
read for a search. I stood my ground and stared right back.

  ‘Either she wants to talk to me or she doesn’t,’ I said tiredly. ‘But you lay a finger on me and I will rip off both your arms and beat you to death with the wet ends. Your choice.’

  He hesitated, his expression mulish. I shrugged and reached for the Navigator’s door handle, like I really didn’t care. It was a calculated risk.

  ‘Wait!’

  I stopped. The Bee-Em’s darkened rear glass had dropped a few inches and Orlando’s face appeared, paler than ever in the mix of sodium and moonlight, blinking as the rain splashed inside.

  ‘Charlie, please,’ she said, sounding genuinely distraught. ‘Vincent, it’s OK. Please, just let her get in the car.’

  The bodyguard, Vincent, didn’t like it. I wouldn’t have done, in his place, but he opened the rear door and jerked his head to signify I should get in. I took my time about it, taking a perverse satisfaction from the fact he was getting just as wet as I was.

  Eventually, I shrugged and climbed in. Orlando slid over to the far side of the rear bench seat to give me room, and the bodyguard slammed the door after me with a certain amount of venom. He got back into the front, twisting round in his seat so he could keep an eye on me.

  I don’t know where Orlando had been hiding out, but she looked terrible, which for her probably meant she hadn’t been near a hairdresser or a nail salon for the best part of a week.

  ‘Is it true about Dina being taken?’ she demanded by way of greeting.

  I raised a dripping eyebrow. ‘How do you know anything’s happened to Dina?’

  As far as I was aware, it wasn’t public that she had been kidnapped. Certainly we’d done our best to keep the information away from the authorities, at Caroline Willner’s insistence. The only investigating they were doing related to Torquil Eisenberg’s death.

  Orlando’s eyes slid towards Vincent and I nodded in understanding. The ex-military grapevine was better than any twenty-four-hour news channel. I glanced back at the girl on the back seat.

  ‘It’s true that your boys sliced off her ear, yes.’