by Vicki Hinze
Relief swamped Kelly, turning her knees to rubber.
“Weak.” Chessman grunted again as Jeff pulled him to his feet. “Pathetic.”
Battling her own temptation to slap him, Kelly took his criticism for what it was worth: nothing. “I’ll try to forgive you, Mr. Chessman, but I’ll be honest. I’m going to have to really, really work at it.”
He pulled his shoulders back, puffed his chest, and glared down at her. “I don’t want your forgiveness.”
She smiled right up into his outraged face. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me.”
His eyes narrowed, squinted. “You’re a brainless idiot.”
“I’m a woman of faith,” she corrected him, “and forgiving you frees me.” The wind whipped at her hair. She smoothed it back from her face. “Every day for the rest of your life, you’ll be in prison, thinking of me. But after tonight, Mr. Chessman, I will rarely think of you. I’ll be living my life. Going to church, building my safe centers, and being content.”
Chessman spit at her and missed.
Kelly held her smile.
He swiveled his glare to Jeff. “Get me out of here.”
“In due time. You gave up your right to choose much of anything.” Jeff nodded to Kelly. “If you want to preach to him a little, I’ll see to it that he stays put.”
Kelly considered it but knew his ears were closed. He wouldn’t hear her, or see the truth. “Maybe after a couple years alone with his thoughts, he’ll make better choices.” She turned away and looked at Ben.
Stiff, pale, and shaken, he stared at her with intense longing.
“Ben.” She stepped closer, clasped his arm. “Are you hurt?”
He pulled her to him, tugged her closer, then circled his arms around her and buried his face at the crook of her neck. “Kelly.”
It was all he could manage.
It was more than enough.
Kelly hugged him hard and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “It’s okay, Ben.” He’d heard her scream, and somehow she knew he feared he would lose her too. “I’m fine and so are you.” She rubbed little comforting circles on his back, feeling his tremble in her fingertips. “We’re going to be okay now. Everything is going to be fine.” She said and meant it and whispered a quiet prayer of gratitude.
Kelly sat beside Ben on the porch steps while the FBI loaded the twelve men into separate vehicles and took them and then Denham away. He avoided looking at her, and she didn’t stop looking at Alexander until he was out of sight.
Chessman was the last to leave.
After two agents departed with him, Jeff and Mark locked down the scene. Then Jeff left to begin the paperwork, and Mark joined Kelly and Ben at the porch.
“That’s the last of them,” he said. “Jeff says we can do our paperwork in the morning—your statements and such. They’re leaving two men on site, so we can leave whenever you’re ready.”
“Do you know who any of them were?” Kelly asked.
“One of the agents told me they were from all over, but every one of them was on the watch list. They’re all NINA operatives with heavy biological-warfare expertise.”
Kelly’s heart seemed to stop. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing it to keep beating. “Chessman was smuggling in terrorists, helping them to harm us. How could he do that?”
“He and Denham,” Mark said with disgust. “Not too bright, is it? No germ I’ve heard of is biased about the nationality of the people it kills.”
“What were they thinking?” Ben asked.
Kelly frowned. “Obviously they weren’t, but I’m sure it had to do with lots and lots of money.” She stood and brushed a hand over the seat of her slacks to get off the sandy grit. “And it makes sense as the reason for Denham’s trips to Europe.”
“Trips?” Mark asked. “As in more than one?”
“Oh yes.” She nodded. “He’s gone every year for as long as I can remember to meet with a business associate. Karl Masson is his name, but I’ve never seen him.”
Ben cocked his head. “But Denham was here when he was supposed to be in Europe.”
“Yes, he was—for the dinner party at Chessman’s, anyway. But was Denham here for months, or just for sprints on his way to or from Europe?” Kelly thought a second. “Masson is real. I’ve answered the phone when he’s called. He has to be Denham’s NINA connection. There just isn’t anyone else. Not that I recall, anyway.”
Ben frowned. “Masson could have been the third man on the terrace, Kelly.”
“Maybe. Like I said, I’ve never seen him.”
“I’ll pass that on to the FBI. Denham could have been a courier for NINA.” Mark blew out a breath. “We’ll know more after they check his passport.”
“What about Chessman?” Ben asked.
“From his phone, he’s talked to Paul Johnson often, and he’s been texting another number regularly. Meyers ran a trace on it.”
“Who owns it?” Ben shook the sand from his shoe.
“The phone’s in John Green’s name, but it can’t be his unless he’s mastered texting Johnson and Chessman from the Other Side.” Mark looked from Ben to Kelly. “John was definitely dead before the last one came in to Chessman’s phone.”
“Then it has to be Darla.”
Kelly struggled to wrap her mind around this new development. “What’s the mayor’s wife got to do with any of this?”
“No idea—yet,” Mark said. “But that’s a very good question.”
Kelly stared down at the ground. Denham was different than he appeared to be, but it seemed that fit other people involved in this conspiracy too. “Chessman was nothing like he appeared to be.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Mark tucked his phone back into its case. “I don’t know who he really is, but he’s as dirty as they come. None of these foreign NINA operatives could have gotten into the States without a lot of help, and we know for fact he helped them.”
“They almost succeeded too.”
Ben sighed. “We believe they have before too—the Mobile mall bombing.”
“It’s scary.” Kelly shuddered, crossed her arms, and stroked warmth into them. “If Paul Johnson hadn’t led us to them, they would have succeeded this time too.”
“And, no doubt,” Ben added, “they would have launched a major biological attack on U.S. soil.”
Mark popped a mint into his mouth. “Yeah, the Feds will remember that when it comes time to sentence him.” He answered Kelly’s questioning look with an angry one of his own. “Johnson is neck-deep in all of this, Kelly, including the attacks on you. He’s not a victim.”
Ben nodded. “He informed us to shift blame and cover himself. That’s the bottom line, and what he did doesn’t make him guiltless.” Ben stared off into the night. “That’s a lesson I learned once from Peggy.”
“Peggy.” Kelly tapped Ben’s knee. “You haven’t yet called her.”
“All the crush … I forgot about it.” Grimacing, he called her, then stepped away to talk.
In short order, he came back, and the look on his face signaled there was yet another challenge brewing. “Paul Johnson just returned from New Orleans with Darla Green. The mayor is confirmed dead. Darla’s a wreck. Hotel housekeeping found her sitting like a stone beside the bed. John died in it sometime during the night. The coroner hasn’t released his body yet, but the house doctor felt Darla would be better off here, with people she knows. She’s at the center talking with Harvey Talbot now.”
“Where’s Johnson?” Mark asked.
“At the center talking to Lisa.” Ben frowned. “Darla being ‘catatonic’ freaked him out. Lisa is trying to calm him down.”
“She’d better give him a sedative and stay out of striking distance,” Kelly said. “Of both of them.”
“I did what I could to warn Peggy about them. But I had to be careful, not knowing who could be listening.”
“We’d better get over there.”
“Call Jeff,” Kelly said. “Get
him over there now. He’s closer.”
“On it.” Mark whipped out his phone. Hit speed dial. “No way do I believe that woman’s really catatonic.”
“Why?” Kelly asked.
Mark slid her a flat look. “She was in New Orleans when Massey was shot.”
“Better have his assistant.”
“Emily,” Mark reminded Ben.
“Get Emily to check security tapes.” Ben shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’m betting Darla Green is on them.”
Mark made the call, requested a still photo of any women be forwarded to Crossroads. Then he called the New Orleans coroner and warned him John’s death might well include foul play.
When Mark stuffed his phone back into his pocket, Kelly voiced her confusion. “Why can’t you believe you were saying that about Darla Green?”
Mark answered. “It’s common knowledge that she’s John’s trophy wife. Everyone considers her an airhead, but she’s nice, so no one says anything about that. She seems harmless, easy to ignore, but … ”
“She’s not what she appears to be.” Dread dragged at Kelly’s stomach. “She’s a lot smarter than anyone thinks.”
“So it appears.” Ben hustled them down the street toward his SUV “She or Johnson. I’m not sure Peggy picked up on my warning.”
Mark ran alongside them, talking to someone on his phone. “I’ve got Meyers. Ben, try warning Peggy again.”
“Ask for Doris,” Kelly said.
“We can’t trust her. She worked for Denham.”
“I trust her,” Kelly said. “And I’m careful who I trust.”
“Something’s bothering me,” Mark said while they got in the SUV. “Why would Darla and Johnson go to Crossroads?”
“I’ve wondered that too.”
“They’re waiting for me.” Kelly looked from Ben in the driver’s seat to Mark next to him, then back to Ben. “I’m a loose end that can tie Johnson to NINA. I heard it that night on the terrace.”
“So they went there to find you?”
“No. Johnson knew I’d be at the beach house.”
Mark chimed in. “He figured you’d go to the center afterward.”
Kelly saw it differently. “I figure he followed Darla there. He could have killed me—he had the chance. Several of them, actually. But he didn’t do it.” She stared out the window. “No, he followed Darla there.”
“Why did she go there?” Ben asked.
Kelly sent him a level look. “To kill me.”
“Johnson wouldn’t do it,” Ben said. “But she couldn’t leave you alive because you could lead authorities to him, and he could lead them to her.”
“Exactly.”
“Why not wait until later, when you’re alone?” Mark asked.
“My guess,” Kelly said, “is Johnson was focused on getting out of town, not on hanging around until I made it convenient for him to kill me. But Darla doesn’t yet realize she needs to run, so waiting suited her purposes just fine.”
“Their priorities clashed,” Ben said, tracking Kelly’s thinking.
She nodded. “And Darla won. Johnson had to follow her. He had to leave town with her, or when she was caught—and he’d know she would be—she’d turn on him. He couldn’t leave her here to do that.”
Mark grunted. “You figure Chessman wouldn’t turn on Johnson.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” she said. “Who would run his empire while he’s in jail?”
“Good point.” Ben called someone. “No answer from Peggy.”
He tried again. And then again. “Still no answer.”
Kelly curled her hands into fists and clenched until her nails dug into her palms. “I hope that doesn’t mean none of them are able to answer … ”
27
When they drove up to the center, Meyers hadn’t yet arrived.
“Stay here,” Ben said.
“No,” Kelly told him. “I’m going in. I’m a crisis counselor, Ben. I know how to deal with these things; I do it all the time in my own work.”
“We have no idea what’s going on in there. You’re not going in.”
“She is the better choice,” Mark said, cutting in. “But no one is going in until Jeff and backup get here. They’re going to try to kill you, Kelly.”
“That’s why I have to go.” She looked at Ben. “You should understand. If anything happens to anyone in there, it’s my fault. It’s Susan and Christopher all over again. I can’t wait, Ben. Seconds could make a difference.”
“Okay, okay. I understand. Seconds could make a difference,” Ben said.
Mark heaved a sigh. “Ben, you and I will go. Kelly, you stay here, and I mean it.”
“Why? Because you’re big, strong men and I’m a fragile woman?”
“No,” Ben said. “Because we’re armed, you’re not, and we’re trying to keep you alive.”
“I’ve done a decent job of keeping myself alive for a couple years now. I don’t need a white knight. I do need allies that don’t underestimate me.”
“No one is underestimating you. Believe me, I know your capabilities.” Ben stopped the SUV, then shifted into Park. “But there’s no way I’m agreeing to you walking in there when we know something’s going on and we don’t know what it is. I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it, Ben—or you either, Mark.” She flipped open the glove box and snatched out Ben’s weapon. “Now I’m armed.”
Ben and Mark exchanged frowns, and before they could stop her, she shot out of the vehicle and through the Crossroads door. Some things a person just had to do herself.
Melanie sat at her desk looking as grim as Ben and trying to cover it. “Hi, Mel,” Kelly said lightly, scanning the entryway and seeing nothing amiss. “I’ll be right back. Needed a rest room for hours.” Kelly made her way through reception to the hallway. Senses hyperalert, she called back, “Everything okay?”
“Fine, Ms. Walker,” Mel called back, her voice uneven.
Kelly had to make her feet keep moving. Not once had Mel ever called her Ms. Walker. Susan, Karen, Kelly, yes. But never Ms. Walker.
Something was definitely wrong.
She entered the rest room and looked for another weapon. Empty, except for mouthwash, tissues, a can of air freshener, and a fire extinguisher. It was her best choice. Scared half to death, she lifted the extinguisher off the wall.
Oh, God, be with me. Give me strength and wisdom and the courage to do what I have to do. Please, don’t let me make a mistake and get anyone hurt. Please …
She cracked open the door. Darla Green strode past.
“Paul?” Darla shouted, her mascara smudging the skin beneath her eyes and trickling in tear streaks down her face. “Paul, take me home. I want to go home.” She paused to pound a fist against each door she passed. “Paul, where are you?”
Definitely not catatonic. Kelly waited for Darla to round the corner, checked to make sure no one else was following her, and then stepped into the empty hallway. Where was everyone?
Darla kept yelling for Paul.
At the corner, Kelly paused and listened to the hum of voices. They were all in the reception area, and Darla was creating a stir.
“I’m going home, I tell you! Harvey Talbot, don’t you dare come at me with a needle.”
“I’m not coming at you with anything, Darla.”
Footsteps sounded behind her. Kelly ducked around the far corner.
“Darla?” Paul rushed past, the left side of his face twitching. “I’m coming.”
Lisa trailed behind him. Kelly grabbed her sleeve and jerked, pulling her back. “Shh.”
Lisa’s eyes stretched wide. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Trust me.” Kelly chanced that warning only because she had no choice.
“Oh, Paul.” Darla grabbed him. “They won’t let me leave. I want to go home.”
Paul wrapped a protective arm around Darla and glared at Peggy. “Explain this.”
Pe
ggy tried. “She needs help right now, Mr. Johnson. That’s all we’re trying to do.”
“She doesn’t want your help.” He moved toward the door. His instincts clearly had alerted him that he was in trouble and this was a delay tactic. “Any further challenges and Mr. Chessman’s attorney will be all over you.”
Mark Taylor walked into reception from the alcove by the door. “Mr. Denham can’t help you right now, Paul. He’s being questioned by the FBI, along with Mr. Chessman.”
“What are you talking about, Taylor?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Darla tried to move away. Paul pulled out a knife, grabbed her, and positioned her as a shield, then pushed the tip of the blade against her jugular. “This is not going to happen this way.”
Harvey stepped forward. “Paul, don’t do anything foolish. We can talk through this.”
He laughed hard and deep. “Sure we can, Doc.” Paul inched toward the door, baby step by baby step, the left side of his face seemingly frozen by muscles in lockdown. “Everybody just stay calm and still—don’t move. Darla is leaving with me. Just don’t try to stop us and no one will get hurt.”
Darla put up token resistance, but behind it was genuine fear. Kelly sensed it and slid along the wall, dropped down to her belly, and crawled across the floor, hidden from his view by furniture and partitions. She crawled along the last of the partitions, then pulled the pin on the extinguisher.
Paul stood not three steps on the other side, the entire left side of his face twitching. If Darla moved her head, Paul would see Kelly, and then she had no idea what to expect.
Darla heard her; Kelly saw her stiffen. “Right.”
Paul spun right.
Kelly aimed and discharged the extinguisher, spraying foam directly into his face.
Mark and Ben rushed in. “Get the knife!” Kelly shouted, catching a glimpse of Jeff Meyers.
Ben tackled Johnson. He went down clutching his jaw, then stilled—and stayed still, as if he couldn’t move, and a distant haze clouded his eyes.
Kelly stared down at him. Had he blanked out? What?
