Find Me (The Donovan Family Book 3)

by Margaret Watson

  "No. I don't. But the killer would have shown up, sooner or later."

  She hesitated. Maybe she should tell him that it had been sooner. That she'd seen the guy get off the ferry.

  Before she could speak, he narrowed his eyes at her. "No one else knows where you are."

  Then he swallowed, as if he'd suddenly gotten a bad taste in his mouth. His gaze flickered away from her.

  "You told them, didn't you?" she said with a surge of anger. "You told them where I was."

  "Standard procedure," he said. "Let someone know where you are."

  "How?" she demanded. "Did you use my computer while I was sleeping?"

  "No, I used the phone."

  "I had the cord."

  He sighed. "When I called the boat places. The fourth call I made was to my office."

  Her fingers closed into fists. "I knew something was off when you made that call. I just couldn't figure out what it was." Franny yelped, and she realized she was gripping the dog's collar too tightly. She let Franny go. "That's why I hid the cord." She closed her eyes, replaying that phone call. "Damn it! You dialed an extra number because it was out of the area code. That's what I picked up on."

  "You caught that?" He studied her, and she thought she saw admiration in his eyes. It disappeared too quickly to be sure.

  "So where's your car?" she asked, trying to figure out how to lose him once they got off the ferry.

  "Behind yours."

  "I'll lose you in Anacortes and you'll never see me again." The idea wasn't as pleasing as it should have been.

  "Maybe not. I'm a pretty good driver." He bent down and murmured, "Hey, Franny. How's it going? You recover from the boat ride yet?"

  Her traitor dog trotted over to Mac as if he hadn't betrayed Lizzy. Mac scratched her ears, her chin, her neck. Franny leaned against him, and Lizzy couldn't really blame the dog. She knew how good Mac's hands felt.

  He stood, but kept his fingers in Franny's collar. "I'll keep Franny until we're off the boat. You'll park your car in the lot, then get in my car. We'll drive to the airport together."

  "You bastard!" She lunged for her dog, but Mac opened the door and stepped inside. Lizzy charged after him, but there were too many people watching to confront him. All he'd have to do is whip out his damn FBI badge and the other passengers would believe anything that came out of his mouth.

  "Give her back to me," she yelled as she charged down the stairs behind Mac and her dog. "Franny! Come!"

  The dog looked over her shoulder and slowed, but Mac scooped her into his arms and kept going. He wove through the cars, quick and agile, until he reached a silver Ford Taurus. He opened the door and put Franny in the back seat.

  "Give me my dog, you asshole," Lizzy yelled, reaching for the door.

  "She's perfectly safe." He stepped in front of Lizzy, blocking her way. "You know I won't hurt her. And I know you won't run without her." His voice was hard. Implacable. Determined.

  "You think I'm going to cooperate with you now? After you stole my dog?"

  "It's in your best interest to cooperate." His cool voice fueled the rage burning through her. "You know damn well that if you really saw an FBI agent commit murder, and he knows who you are, you'll only be safe once he's in custody."

  "If? If I saw him? You don't believe me?"

  "I want to believe you. I think you think you're telling the truth. But you need to come to Chicago with me and identify him. I can't find anyone with the vague description of 'the guy with the coffee'."

  "I told you everything I know. He's about as tall as you. Oh, and he's a white guy. Does that help?"

  He didn't take his gaze off her face. "Once we're in Chicago, you can look at pictures. Or point him out to me."

  The killer wouldn't be in Chicago. He'd be looking for her on Skipjack. She should tell him. Only her stupid pride was stopping her.

  Pride that could get both of them killed. She swallowed, hesitated, then Mac said, "Looks like we're almost there." He nodded behind her, and she twisted her head to see the Anacortes dock approaching. "Franny and I will meet you in the parking lot."

  Fuming, she ignored the urge to tell him she'd seen the killer. By taking Franny, he'd rendered her helpless. She had no choice but to follow his orders. Mac got into his car, rubbed Franny's head when she stuck it between the two front seats. Like he had the right to do that. The right to take her dog.

  She got into her own car, watching Mac and Franny through her rear view mirror. Anger and cold made her arms tremble as she gripped the steering wheel. Wave after wave of tremors shuddered through her. The cold settled over her like a blanket of ice, freezing her joints, turning her muscles to stone.

  The wind buffeted her car as she drove off the ferry, and she had to focus all her attention on driving in a straight line. She headed into the parking lot, Mac following closely. He parked in the most remote corner, then waited in the car, his engine running.

  She slammed her door harder than she needed to, struggled into the wind to Mac's car, then yanked open the passenger door and slid onto the seat.

  Her shaking hands couldn't manage the seat belt. Mac finally nudged her hands away and did it for her. She huddled in the survival jacket, but the cold was all-encompassing. His fingers were gentle, and they lingered on hers for a moment too long. Her treacherous body missed his touch as soon as he let her go.

  As he pulled out of the parking lot, Lizzy's teeth chattered so hard that her jaw ached. Mac slipped off his survival jacket and draped it over her. "It's the adrenaline rebound. That's why you're cold and shaky. Take some deep breaths. I'll turn on the radio. It's tuned to an indie channel, but I'll put on whatever you like."

  She bristled as she stared at him. "Are you s...serious? You want to d..discuss our musical tastes? Like we're on a f...fricking date?"

  He shrugged and shifted the car, then headed for the exit. "Would you rather I interrogate you about the suspect?"

  "Forget the r..radio. And s...screw you." All she wanted was to grab Franny and bolt out of the car. If she could stop shaking long enough to actually run.

  "Already did. Best sex ever. We can talk about that, if you like."

  She flushed with pleasure, which made her even angrier. "Fuck you, Agent Donovan."

  ***

  Two silent hours later, Mac pulled into a parking lot next to a pet store. "I'm assuming you don't have a leash for Franny in your bag," he said, nodding at her backpack.

  She shook her head. She rarely put Franny on a leash.

  "We'll need one. For the airport."

  "Fine. Go buy one. We'll wait in the car."

  A real smile lightened his face for the first time since he'd jumped into her boat on Skipjack. "Funny. Let's go."

  Heat washed over her face. Get your head in the game, Lizzy. She'd have to think faster than that. "I wasn't going to take off," she protested. It had been worth a shot.

  He snorted. "Right." He jerked his head toward the door. "Get out of the car. Franny stays here."

  He was holding Franny hostage. To insure she didn't run. That was smart, she grudgingly conceded. He knew she wouldn't go anywhere without her dog.

  Ten minutes later, they were back in the car with a leash, a bag of food and two bowls. "You have my gun, don't you?" Mac finally said.

  "Yes, I do." Her arms tightened around the backpack.

  "You'll have to give it to me at the airport."

  "Fine." She was surprised he hadn't asked about it earlier. And she was happy to give it to him.

  She'd grown up with hunting rifles and shotguns, but she'd never held a handgun. She wasn't sure she could point it at someone and pull the trigger.

  As they neared the Seattle-Tacoma airport, Mac began scanning the sky. Unable to figure out why, Lizzy finally asked, "What are you looking for?"

  "Planes," he said, continuing to gaze upward every few seconds.

  "Don't think that's how we get on one."

  He glanced at her, his mouth twitching,
then pulled off the road onto the shoulder. "Is your burner phone a smartphone?"

  She tightened her grip on the backpack. "What do you mean, my 'burner phone'?"

  He sighed. "Give me a break, Lizzy. You must have a phone. You left your cell behind in Chicago. So is the one you have a smartphone, or not?"

  "Not," she muttered.

  "Then hand over mine."

  "What for?"

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I think all flights have been cancelled. I haven't seen any planes in the sky. Give me the damned phone so I can check."

  "Fine." She dug into her bag and slapped the phone into his hand. When his fingers brushed her palm, it felt as if she'd touched a live wire.

  She snatched her hand back, but it didn't look like he'd noticed the spark. Maybe, after the way she'd run away, then handcuffed him to the pier on Shaw, he was done with her.

  Ignoring the ache in her chest, she stared into the sky. Mac was right. She didn't see a single plane.

  He powered his phone on, then began typing on the touch screen. A few minutes later, his head flopped back against the head rest.

  "All flights are cancelled," he said. "Nothing coming in or going out. Radar shows the storm strengthening for the next twelve hours."

  She thought of the man who'd gotten off the ferry on Orcas. This would give him time to catch up with them. "What are we going to do?" Her voice sounded a lot more timid than she liked. Scared. She cleared her throat. "What are our options?"

  "We can go to the airport, try to sleep in uncomfortable chairs and eat bad airport food for the next twenty-four hours. Or we can try to find a hotel."

  She squared her shoulders and turned to face him. "There's something I need to tell you."

  "What?" His expression was unreadable. His FBI face, she guessed.

  "I saw the killer on Orcas," she confessed, hoping he didn't hear the quiver in her voice.

  He sat up straight. "You what?"

  "He got off the ferry," she said, avoiding his eyes. She should have told him right away. She slid her palms beneath her thighs to stop the shaking. "I saw him when I was walking to my car with Franny."

  "You saw the killer on Orcas and you didn't tell me?"

  Stupid move, Lizzy. "You stole my dog. I was angry." He'd distracted her. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

  His jaw worked again. "We could have gone back. Gotten him."

  "We couldn't go back – the ferry was already moving. And even if it wasn't, why should I trust you? You're his friend."

  "Lizzy." His mouth was a thin line. "I believe you saw the killer at the FBI office. I know that's why you ran. You think I'd side with him against you?"

  Deep down, she knew she could trust Mac. But his betrayal, his lies about who he was, still stung. "Who knows?" She lifted her chin. "But even if we were still on Orcas, even if I trusted you, I wouldn't have gone back to Skipjack.

  "God damn it all to hell, Lizzy!" He shoved his hand through his hair. "If you'd told me right away, I could have called the sheriff. He could have sent some deputies to pick him up."

  "So he could kill more people?"

  "The sheriff is a smart guy. He'd know how to handle the situation."

  "A county sheriff going up against a trained FBI agent? I don't think Sheriff Ellison would win that one." She wouldn't admit he was right. The way she'd fallen into bed with him, then compounded that mistake by telling him about her father, still rankled. He should have told her who he was. Why he'd come to Skipjack.

  Instead, he'd encouraged her to open up, to expose her weakness, then used it against her.

  He wanted her to trust him. But he hadn't trusted her.

  "The sheriff has a gun and he knows how to use it."

  She clenched her jaw, trying to bury her hurt with anger. "The guy who showed up on Orcas, who had to cross the country to get here, knows you found me. He knows I recognized him. You think he was planning on having a cup of coffee and a chat with me on Skipjack? He's there to kill me. And he'll kill you, or the sheriff, or anyone who goes after him. He's got nothing to lose."

  Mac stared at her, his face hard, his eyes chips of blue ice. "If you don't trust me, why are you telling me about this guy now?"

  She did trust him. But hurt feelings kept the words in her throat. "Because if we can't fly out until tomorrow, he could catch up with us."

  He began typing on his phone again. After a minute, he tossed it onto the dashboard. "The ferry we took was the last one to leave Orcas. They've all been grounded until sometime tomorrow afternoon. So he's not going anywhere."

  "Fine." A smart woman would let the hurt go and work with Mac. But her heart still ached. "Now what?"

  "Your choice. Motel or airport."

  She thought about sitting in the airport for twenty-four hours or more, trying to sleep in a chair. Finding someplace to walk Franny. Eating fast food. "Motel, I guess."

  "I was beginning to wonder if I'd overestimated your intelligence," he muttered as he hit the button to make a phone call. After a few moments, he said, "Bob? This is Mac Donovan. I've just gotten information that the man I'm after is on Orcas. He's probably going to head for Skipjack. Keep an eye out for him, but be damn careful. He killed an FBI agent."

  He listened for a moment, then said, "Thanks. Call if you hear or see anything." He dropped it in one of the cup holders.

  Without looking at her, he said, "None of the rental places on Orcas are letting people take boats. So the killer is stuck on Orcas. Can't get to Skipjack, can't get back to the mainland. Gives us a little breathing room."

  He shifted the car into gear and merged into traffic. "Take my phone and look for motels around here. See if any of them have vacancies."

  Chapter 15

  An uncomfortable twenty minutes later, Mac pulled the rental car into the parking lot of a rundown motel north of the airport. Lizzy hadn't said a thing. He assumed she was still angry at him, but when he glanced over at her, there was remorse as well as anger in her expression.

  Maybe they could figure out how to forgive each other and move on.

  He sighed as he stared at the tiny cabins in front of him. They were covered in brown shingles, with flaking white paint on the doors and windows. In their heyday, the cabins had probably been rustic and woodsy, but now they only looked shabby. He glanced at Lizzy, who was staring out the windshield, one hand on Franny's head. He hoped she didn't mind roughing it. This was the only place that allowed dogs.

  "Doesn't look like much, but it's all we've got."

  Her eyes flickered toward him, then away again. "It's fine. We're both filthy, and Franny is still muddy from running through the woods. Anything better would make me uncomfortable."

  Instead of getting out of the car, Mac stared at her. Every woman he knew, with the possible exception of his sister Mia, would be groaning at the prospect of staying in one of these cabins. Lizzy was practical and realistic.

  She was making it damn hard to stay angry at her.

  He'd nursed his anger since she'd cuffed him to the pier on Shaw. Stoked it after she told him the killer was on Orcas. The guy might be in custody right now if she'd told him right away.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to let his anger go. She wasn't the only one at fault, he reminded himself. He'd lied to her. He hadn't told her who he was, even after they'd made love. Worst of all, she'd found out the truth in the worst possible way – by finding his gun and ID's.

  He could justify it by saying she'd been a suspect. But he'd known almost immediately that Lizzy had nothing to do with Kelly's death.

  So he'd try to let it go and hope she could do the same. Otherwise, it was going to be a difficult, awkward twenty-four hours in a very small space.

  "I'll check in," he finally said. Time to show that he trusted her. "It would be better if you and Franny stayed in the car. You're both too memorable."

  She twisted in her seat, a puzzled expression on her face. "You're not going to take one of us
with you?"

  "No, Lizzy. I want you to trust me. So I'm going to trust you." He took the keys out of the ignition and extended them to her. After a moment, she accepted them. Her fingertips feathered across his palm, and a bolt of heat shot through him. God! He was angry at her, he was afraid she was going to take off the moment he stepped out of the car, but he still ached for her. Still wanted her with every molecule in his body.

  He'd been the wrong person for this job. He hadn't been thinking with his head since the moment she'd walked into the office three months ago.

  But he couldn't regret being the one who'd come after her. Kelly's murderer would have to kill him to get to Lizzy. He'd protect her with his life.

  He slid out of the car and headed for the office. He didn't look back. If she was going to drive away, he didn't want to watch.

  The small office was paneled in knotty pine, a framed photo of Mt. Rainier on the wall behind the Formica-topped counter. The surface was faded and worn, but it was clean. So was the rest of the office.

  An older man emerged from behind a door. "Hey. You looking for a room?"

  "Yes, two people and a dog." Mac pulled his wallet and set some bills on the counter. He wasn't risking a credit card. "One night."

  The man nodded. "Rooms are $74.30 with tax. Twenty bucks extra for the dog."

  "That's fine." Mac counted out five twenties.

  The man smiled as he made change. "You folks stuck because of the storm?"

  "Yeah," Mac said. "No flights until tomorrow."

  The other man nodded. "They've suspended all the ferries, too. Gonna be a mess tomorrow."

  In more ways than one. He'd call the airline tonight and make sure he and Lizzy and Franny were on the first flight back to Chicago. "Got any recommendations for places to eat?"

  "Sure do." He pulled a sheet of paper from beneath the desk. "These are all the restaurants in the area." He winked at Mac. "I'll circle the places we eat."

  When Mac walked out of the office, his heart lightened to see the car parked where he'd left it. Until he saw that it was empty.

  The betrayal hit him like a punch in the chest. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. Planning how to find them.