by Vicki Hinze
“I’ll look on this side.” She stepped off the porch and disappeared around the west side of the house.
Ben rounded the east corner, stepped through the weeds, and cupped his hands at the window. Empty. The paint on the walls looked dull and dirty, and trash lay heaped in the corner. Empty long enough that homeless people had been using the place as shelter from the weather. One thing was clear. Ben started toward the front of the beach house. From the amount of trash around, the place hadn’t just become empty; no one had lived here for months.
Near the porch, he looked but didn’t see Karen. “Where are you?”
No answer.
“Karen?”
Still no answer.
A warning blared in his mind. Ben moved quickly, kicking up a spray of sand. Nothing out front. He kept running, made the western corner, and caught a flash of a man in black running down the beach. Ben scanned the shore and stopped cold.
Down near the water Karen lay sprawled on the sand.
And she wasn’t moving.
Gregory paced his office, turning on the box to generate white noise to ensure that his conversation wasn’t overheard. There hadn’t been time to sweep the office before the call from Johnson had come in, and Gregory was too upset to postpone the conversation to run one.
“What do you mean Harry attacked you and Edward snatched the subject?” he said into the phone.
“I had her in my cross hairs,” Johnson said, still sounding groggy. “The next thing I know, I’m taking one in the jaw and fighting for my life. The subject was looking through the window at the beach house and Edward dropped her on a dime.”
“He shot her?”
“No, knocked her out.”
Fear had Gregory rabid. “What was she doing there?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“She’s remembered.” He stared at the ceiling, hoping for deliverance from the incompetent people who seemed to have permeated his inner circle at the worst possible time in his life. How was he going to explain this to NINA?
“I don’t think so,” Johnson said. “She’d just have gone inside. She knocked on the door a long time before she gave up and went to the window.”
That made sense. “If she hasn’t remembered, then how did she find the beach house?”
“I have no idea. I was tailing her and Brandt. When they got to the beach house, he stopped abruptly and she dashed out of the car. He wasn’t expecting it. He was across the street, not pulled to the curb.”
Gregory digested that, then plopped down in the seat behind his desk. “So you think she just recognized the place?”
“I think that’s exactly what happened.”
“Then explain Harry and Edward being there.”
“They were either tailing her or me.”
Gregory leaned forward and tapped an impatient fingertip on his blotter. “Lucille!”
His housekeeper stuck her head in the door. “Yes, Mr. Chessman?”
“Tea. Now.”
“Yes sir.” She disappeared.
He returned his attention to Johnson, having spent the intervening seconds thinking. “Edward’s buying leverage. Which means he didn’t take out Massey.”
“Then who did, sir?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t need you, Paul. Why don’t you do your job and tell me?”
“I’m working on it, sir.”
“Work faster,” Gregory said from between clenched teeth. “If she finds out what we’re doing at the beach house, we’re not just looking at state charges. We’ll be lost forever in Leavenworth.”
“She has no idea what’s going on in her aunt’s beach house, sir.”
“You’d better be right, Paul.” Gregory wished she’d just sold him the place. “Our largest shipment ever is due in tomorrow night, and if anything goes wrong … ” NINA would nail his hide to a wall in Siberia.
“I’m on it, sir.”
“You’d better be, Paul. You’re betting your life on getting it right—and mine.”
“I’m aware of the risks.” His agitation crackled through the line like static.
“Then stop messing up. Find the subject and kill her.”
16
Ben fell to his knees in the sand. Karen lay deathly pale. He checked her throat for a pulse. Feeling the rhythmic pressure pound against his fingertip, he let out a sigh. “Karen.” He stroked her face. “Karen.”
She opened her eyes, blinked as if dazed, and appeared to finally focus. “Ben?” She sat up. “What am I doing out here?”
Waves crashing against the shore nearly drowned out her trembling voice. “I have no idea.” He cupped her shoulders, scanning the stretch of sand. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Swaying, she grasped his arm and pulled herself to her feet. “I was looking in the window. Something hit me in the head and”—she gave her head a shake—“and I don’t remember anything after that.”
The flash of the man in black returned to Ben. “Did you see anyone?”
“No.” The wind swept her hair over her face.
Ben brushed it back and let her see his worry. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” He ran his fingertips over her crown and collided with a lump. “Someone whacked you pretty hard. You’ve got a goose egg.” He steered her back toward the beach house. “We’d better go have one of the docs take a look at you—just to be sure you’re okay.”
“I’m all right.” She cocked her head against the wind. “Actually, I’m not. I’m very confused.” She looked up at him. “Once again, they’ve tried to kill me without killing me.”
Ben debated keeping his thoughts to himself, but she really did look all right, and his silence wouldn’t benefit either of them. “I think we’re dealing with warring parties, Karen.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like you said.” Ben elevated his voice to be heard above the gulls. “They had you after the carjacking. If they wanted you dead, you would be.”
“True. And at the cottage, if I’d been in bed, where most people are at one in the morning, I would have been.”
“Right. Those bullets were real. He wanted to kill you.” Ben frowned.
“Now this attacker. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it.” She swiped at her elbows and arms. “So why knock me out? Why attack me just to knock me out? All I was doing was looking through the window.”
Valid point. “Let’s get back to the car.” Ben clasped her arm. “We’re a big target out in the open.” He nudged her, and she started walking. “I think this someone just wanted you out of the way.” Karen’s shoes sank into the sand, and Ben held her tighter, helping her keep her balance. “I saw a man in black run down the beach.”
“All black, like at the cottage?”
“Yes.”
“I see what you mean about the warring. Two groups after me, jockeying for control.”
Arriving back at his SUV, Ben opened the door and Karen got in. He walked around the front end, trying not to think about her comment turning his stomach to jelly, got in behind the wheel, and then looked down the street. “Where did all the cars go?”
“What do you mean?” Karen stretched her seat belt and clicked it into place.
“When I parked, there were four or five cars on the street. Some neighborhoods prohibit street parking. Your car gets towed.” He shrugged, a hand on the wheel. “I’m not familiar with this neighborhood, but it’s on the beach, so the owners need the protection or they’d be blocked in all season long. If the street had been empty, I wouldn’t have parked here. I’d have pulled into the driveway.”
“Maybe they just left.”
“All at once?” He grunted. “No. No, this doesn’t fit.”
“So what are you telling me?” She rubbed at her throat like she had rubbed Susan’s cross.
Guilt seeped through him, and shame followed on its heels. He had ripped Susan’s cross off her neck. The scratch where the chain had scraped her skin was still red. He shou
ld never have done that. She was a victim, and he’d made her one again.
“What’s wrong, Ben?”
“Excuse me?”
Karen shrugged. “You look so … I don’t know. Bothered?”
“I’m fine.” He cranked the car engine, put the gearshift into drive, and took off. “Actually, I’m not fine; I’m angry. I should have been more alert. We were being watched, and I should have noticed it.” He grimaced and turned off the radio. “I should have expected it.” He shot her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Karen.”
She rubbed his arm. “I didn’t notice anyone either, and I definitely should have been watching.” She squinted. “Tell you what, let’s forget it and make a pact that we’ll both be alert from here on out.”
How could she be so gracious … and calm? He was a wreck inside. They both could have been killed, and they would have died not knowing why.
“Ben?”
He looked from the road to her. “What?”
“Watch that truck,” she said, then went on. “What if it wasn’t me? What if it was the beach house someone didn’t want us to see?”
“But why?” Ben didn’t consider it possible, but he couldn’t fathom a reason for it either. “It was empty. Maybe some homeless folks have been using it, but no one is living there.”
“Something else was strange.” Karen checked the side mirror. “There were stairs in the bedroom. When I looked in the window, I saw them.”
“You’ve lost me.” He passed a blue Tahoe. “Why is that significant?”
“The house is built on the beach. Dig down a foot, and you hit water.” She stiffened in her seat, gasped. “It’s a one-story house.”
Ben’s heart thumped against his ribs. “There’s no need for stairs.”
“Red light!” She grabbed the dash.
Ben hit the brakes. “There’s no need for stairs.”
“I know, but they’re there. Why?”
“Good question.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“Taylor.”
“Mark, it’s Ben.” He checked the streetlight. “Any word from Jeff Meyers?”
“Not yet.”
Ben shook his head to let her know there was no news. “Keep looking.”
“We’re all over it, Ben. I’ve even solicited help from a couple buddies and called in favors from all over the place.”
“I appreciate it, and I’m sure she does too. I need a records search run on a beach house.” He relayed the address and glanced at Karen, who nodded that he’d gotten it right. “See who owns it, how long it’s been empty, and anything else of interest.”
“Find out who the neighbors are on either side too,” Karen said. “If it’s not too much trouble. Maybe they can explain why it’s so familiar to me.”
Ben relayed that request. “Thanks, Mark.” He ended the call.
When he flipped the phone closed, Karen said, “Let’s go back and check with the neighbors—oh, Ben. Look at that sky. God’s such an amazing artist.”
How did she do that? Notice the sky when she was up to her neck in problems? He glanced up. The last strands of daylight streaked the twilight sky burnished orange. “It is beautiful.”
He moved over a lane, positioning to turn around. His cell phone rang. He made the turn and then answered. “Brandt.”
“Ben, it’s Peg. How’s Karen?”
“She’s fine.” He decided not to mention what had happened at the beach house. Peggy would pitch a fit, especially after the attempted shooting at Three Gables, and she’d be right. She’d probably insist Karen go to The Towers, and, though Ben was a jerk for it, he didn’t want her to go.
She was his link to finding out what happened to Susan and Christopher. The first decent lead he’d had in more than a year. And that aside, though he hated to admit it, he wanted her with him. Whether because he didn’t want to face this challenge alone anymore, or because—no. No, he didn’t care about her personally. He didn’t dare. He just needed her help to resolve this situation as much as she needed his help to resolve it. Alone, neither of them would be successful, but together maybe, just maybe, they stood a chance.
“We’ve been riding around to see if anything triggers a memory.”
“The docs said not to force anything, Ben.”
“Someone is trying to shoot her, Peg. The sooner we figure out who it is, the better our odds are of stopping him. She’s setting the agenda.”
“Are you pushing her?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m going to ask her myself.”
“Go ahead,” he said, not at all affronted. Peg had learned to be persistent in her work at the center—maybe too well. “Karen, am I pushing you?”
“Not at all,” she said loudly enough so Peggy could hear her.
“Satisfied?” Ben asked.
“For the moment. Listen, you two need to get to the center—right away.”
It was Peg’s worried tone. He hadn’t heard it often, and that he did now had his skin creeping. “Why?”
“We got a fax from Emily at Richard Massey’s office that you’ll want to see,” Peggy said. “Susan—I mean, Karen—will want to see it even more.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s about her.”
“So you know who she is, then?”
“Not exactly.” Peg sighed. “This is too delicate for the phone, Ben. Just get here as soon as you can.”
Ben stopped suddenly. Cut across two lanes of traffic and pushed hard on the gas. “Ten minutes.”
Karen swayed in her seat. “What are you doing?”
“We’ve got some news at the center.”
“Well, let’s hope we live long enough to get there and see what it is.” He deserved that. “Sorry.”
“Have they found out who I am?”
“Not exactly.”
Her face fell. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I asked, and that’s what Peggy said to me.”
Her hand in her lap was shaking. Ben reached over and laced their fingers. “Hang on, Karen. Things will work out.”
She gripped his hand tighter. “I pray they work out well.” She sent him an earnest look. “I don’t know if I could get through this without you. I really don’t.”
He wouldn’t admit it. But in a very formidable sense, he felt the same way.
“Did I upset you—saying that?”
“No.” He swallowed. “Part of me wishes I could say you did, but the truth is, I like it very much.”
“Thank you.” Karen sniffed. “It’s daunting to feel totally alone in the world. I don’t mean to weigh you down, but I appreciate your being with me and holding my hand.”
“It’s the first time I’ve felt useful in a long time. I should thank you.”
She stared out the windshield into the growing darkness. “What if I don’t like the person I discover I am?”
“That’s easy.” He waited for her to look at him. “Change.”
She grunted. “Throwing my own words back at me, huh?”
“They were good ones.”
“They were.”
“Don’t worry.”
She lifted a fingertip. “Every time someone says that, it makes me worry more.”
He supposed that it did. “Look, whatever the truth about you is, it can’t be that bad. You’re a woman of faith.”
She managed a little smile. “Yes, I am.” She looked outside, clearly eager to get to the center and see what news awaited.
Edward wound through the neighborhood and stayed on back streets until well away from the beach house. “You’re sure Johnson was out?”
“Positive.” Harry took a drag from his cigarette. “I cold-cocked him. Jerk never could take a punch.” Harry’s voice jittered, his hand shook, and he darted his gaze everywhere at once.
“The police aren’t going to come screaming after us, Harry. Relax.”
He looked over at Edward as if he’d lost his mind.
“What did you do back there?”
“Knocked her out and left her where Johnson couldn’t get a bead on her and Brandt would find her.”
“Knocked her out?” Exasperated, Harry slapped his thigh and rounded on Edward. “Why didn’t you kill her?”
Edward buried his disgust behind lowered lids. “That would have been a significant tactical error.” A cop car slid into a gap behind him. Nearing the corner, Edward signaled and watched his rearview. No signal. Good, so far.
“What now?” Harry swung around and looked back. “Oh, man.”
“Don’t panic.” Edward took the turn and pulled into a grocery store parking lot.
The cop turned too.
Edward parked and cut the engine.
“I can’t believe it.” He huffed. “Man, this—”
“Shut up, Harry.” Edward stuffed his gun under his seat.
The cop slowed to a crawl behind them.
Watching the rearview, Edward told Harry, “Do not look back.”
Finally, the cop drove on, passing them, then left the lot and got back on the highway.
“Whew.” Clearing his throat, Harry expelled a smoke-laden breath. “I get what you mean about the tactical error.”
“No.” Edward restarted the car. “I don’t think you do.” Amused, Edward backed out of the slot. “Not killing her wasn’t about the cops, Harry.”
He didn’t understand, but to his credit, Harry had finally learned to be patient and wait for answers. Maybe he wasn’t hopeless about learning, after all.
“We’ve been approaching this from the perspective of Chessman and his subject. But it really isn’t about her.”
Harry frowned. “It’s not?”
“Well, it is, but it isn’t. It’s about the woman, but only because she’s tied to something else. So it isn’t about her personally.”
“Something else?” Harry struggled to keep up. “What?”
Edward looked at him and smiled. “That beach house.”
And Edward was betting the bank that it was tied to NINA.
17
I’m scared, Ben.” Karen walked beside him on the wide sidewalk in I front of the crisis center. “What if I find out something awful?”
