Risky Alliance

by N. C. Anderson

  “We need to get her there.” Andee dropped the game paddle and scooted onto her back. “If Dad will let us stay out there, they'll have to come and get us, now, won't they?"

  “How we gonna make sure she comes with him?” They had tried maneuvers before, but every time, one of his parents managed to mess something up.

  “We'll get Ben to help.” She sat up. “If he has a barbecue for us—like Sunday—she'll have to come, right?"

  Mike flipped off the couch to sit beside her, grabbing his paddle from the floor. “Shh,” he whispered. “I heard Dad come in.” For once he believed Andee may have come up with a good idea. At least, it seemed to have promise.

  * * * *

  “Tim coming by this afternoon, Abby?"

  She nodded, gesturing toward the front of the house. “That poor man out there should leave in about an hour. Tim said he wanted to take me to dinner during his shift."

  All at once it dawned on Jacob that Tim and his mother were getting together a lot lately, and it had nothing to do with watching the house. She looked happy, which delighted Jacob. He handed her the envelope. “Give this to him. Tell him it's important for him to look at the picture in here. He'll find it interesting about where I came by it. I'll call here after we get to the ranch."

  “Picture?"

  “Of that lawyer, Charles. Robert was checking him out for some reason, and I want to know the reason.” He already knew most of it. Robert's words, “not as he seems,” pretty much covered what Jacob learned from Vinnie. The man definitely wasn't what he seemed. Jacob wanted to know it all. “I know the man got rich by having an aunt that couldn't have been his aunt” He gestured at the envelope, stepping to the kitchen entryway. “I've got info about his aunt and her family, or rather, lack of family. You can tell Tim I'm taking my files with me to the ranch. I get a couple more facts, and it'll all be his.

  “Mike, Andee, let's hit the road,” he called, turning back to Abby. He gave her a hug. “Take care of my wife, Abby, and I'll call in a while."

  “Well, at least I know you'll get through. A man from the phone company came this morning, Jacob.” She laughed. “I hadn't noticed anything wrong, but he insisted he had to check it because he was working on a pole outside."

  Jacob felt queasy. He held two fingers to his lips and whispered, “Which phone did he check, Abby?"

  She leaned close to his ear. “Why, the one in the kitchen."

  He reached around the corner and yanked the phone from its wall base. After unscrewing the mouthpiece, he slipped the small black chip out, and cursed, quietly. “Did the guy go into any other rooms?"

  She shook her head, staring at him. “Is that one of those bug things?"

  “Did you stay in here with him?” he asked while stooping to look under the counter's edge.

  “No,” she answered, following him. “Can I help?"

  Running his fingers under the stove handle, he found what he was looking for. “Where was Bandit when this guy came?"

  Abby blushed. “I locked him outside.” She threw her hands up. “I'm sorry, Jacob. He just looked like a regular old phone man. I'm not used to this kind of stuff—what can I say?"

  He looked at her, pocketing the two tiny chips. “You can say, you won't let anymore people in here that you don't know, for starters. You can tell Tim that from now on, until this mess is over, the person watching this house can sit in the kitchen—with Bandit.”

  And the one outside would be sitting at that table, eating Abby's cookies and drinking Abby's coffee before they set out for the ranch.

  He cursed himself silently. If he'd had surveillance cameras put in for her months ago, he'd know who the bug man was.

  After calling the kids again, Jacob had pulled the front door open when Abby called out, “I almost forgot. Maggie Rand called. Said she found the boutique that sold one of the dresses Dottie had in her closet.” Abby hurried around the corner with a slip of paper in her hand. “She gave me the information. She said the shop mailed the dress to this address."

  Jacob looked at the paper. It was the Charles address. He handed it back to Abby. “Carley is in my office. Give this information to her and Maggie's phone number. Tell her to get all the info she can.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 20

  The beamed ceiling with spider webs hanging in the corners wasn't at all familiar. Neither were the dark and the coolness around her, or, for that matter, the surface under her, which was as hard as a rock. Sue blinked, her head throbbing. Was she dreaming?

  After pushing herself into a sitting position, she ran her fingers across her forehead where the pain seemed centered and felt a lump—a very sticky lump. She looked at her hand. That was definitely blood. Then she remembered this was the Charles's house, and she'd left her car in the street.

  From how dim the light was, she must have been out for quite a while. She squinted at the watch on her arm, and then tapped on it. It couldn't be nearly five o'clock—but it was.

  She found her key chain beside her leg. The little penlight was out of juice, dead. What had she done to make her head hurt, and why did she know she'd been unconscious?

  One glance at the shadowy corner beyond the big beam was all the incentive she needed to remember everything and scramble shakily to her feet. Getting out of the Charles’ house and calling Tim were the goals she aimed for as she shouldered her purse and started slowly up the cellar steps.

  Robert's murder lived in this house. She didn't want to be in this house. She remembered the cold, hard words she'd heard on the videotape. The woman didn't mind killing.

  A noise above her at the top of the stairs had her stopping on the third step. She had turned on a light before coming down the stairs.

  Someone had turned it off.

  Someone was in the kitchen just a few feet away. Sue took another step, then another until she reached the top. Whoever turned off the light had neglected to close the door firmly. She peered through the inch-wide crack. A man with a drink in one hand was placing a sheet of paper on the counter near the sink with the other. Sue edged into the kitchen as he walked out of it.

  Her first thought was to get out the back door and run for her car. But a powerful curiosity over-rode her apprehension and she followed the second, removed her shoes, tucked them under a counter, and tiptoed after the man.

  After he switched on a stereo system that filled the house with gently flowing music, he ascended a wide staircase. When she couldn't see him anymore, she trailed slowly upward.

  The music eased her mind. Killers didn't play Bach—did they? The killer was Kimba, and it didn't appear that she'd come home yet. Perhaps her husband didn't know he had a wife that could blow someone's brains out without batting an eye. Sue shivered at her gruesome thought.

  Peering around the banister, she saw him reach in his pocket for keys and unlock a door at the end of a very long hall. Why would he lock a door in his own home? she thought. When the man closed the door behind him, she moved down the hall. A few steps from the door, she stopped, not believing her ears.

  That was J.T.'s voice coming from inside the room. Abby's voice?

  What was happening here?

  A muffled curse, something slamming against a hard surface, the tinkling of glass, had Sue backing up. She opened the nearest door and walked in. Her heart was trying to scale the wall of her chest, and she fought gasping in air and making all the noise that went with it. Taking quiet, deep breaths, she tried to gain control of her runaway nerves.

  She had stepped into a bedroom. An all white bedroom. One piece of furniture stood out of place like a Picasso painting in a hen house. A huge, ugly gun cabinet, filled with an awful lot of guns, lined a wall in the pristine room. It had never dawned on her that the people in this mansion would have an enormous gun collection.

  The leaving choice became the most important thing on her mind. She'd been handling guns for months now, going from a horror to an appreciation. It irritated her
no end when at that moment her body wanted to freeze, wanted to turn to stone. No, no, no, it couldn't happen again. She had to keep moving.

  By opening the bedroom door a few inches, she could see the room the man had entered. Just as she made her decision to fling open the door and make a run for it, the other door opened, and Sue closed hers to a one-inch crack that she could see through with one eye.

  It wasn't a man who turned and locked the door. The woman had long brunette hair, wore a black pullover and black slacks. It had to be Kimba Charles, but she seemed too tall. When the woman headed straight for the bedroom door, Sue plastered herself against the wall.

  Kimba Charles pushed open the door and nearly mashed it into Sue. Sue heard her rush across the thick carpeting, heard the rustle of keys and something opening. Leaning slightly to the side, Sue peeked around the door. Kimba had opened the gun cabinet, and it sounded like she was moving guns. The click and slide noises that seemed to echo around the room made Sue guess that the woman now had more than one gun loaded.

  Sue stood straight again, praying that Kimba wouldn't close the door and discover her hiding place. Praying, also, that Kimba couldn't hear how loudly her heart was smashing against her ribs.

  Kimba did close the door, but after she raced through it, leaving Sue pushing so tightly against the wall she felt like a picture frame. She took three, slow, deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. She closed her eyes, her head pounding.

  When a car door slammed, Sue sprinted across the bedroom and peered out the window. What looked like a Black Ford Explorer sped down the curved drive, out the gate, and out of sight.

  Trying to shake a sudden feeling of dizziness, Sue ran her fingers over the lump on her head and into her hair. She felt drained, and struggled to think. Did Kimba lock her husband in the other room? The house sounded deathly quiet. She moved down the hall toward the locked door.

  First, she tapped on the ornate wood, praying that if the man answered she could run fast enough to escape. Then, after listening and hearing nothing, she rummaged in her purse for a credit card. She had seen her mother use one to open the front door when she had forgotten her keys. If her mother could do it, so could she. Carefully sliding the card into the crack above the lock, she jiggled the knob, felt it give, and opened the door.

  It was one big room. Incredibly, no one was there. It appeared to be some sort of office. An elaborate computer setup filled the top of a huge desk. Sue sat down at the desk and turned on the computer. She managed to get it to return to the last work. The voices of J.T. and Abby came through the speakers sitting above the phone on a shelf. J.T. was taking the kids to the ranch for a few hours. Keats Charles wasn't what he seemed, and J.T. had the proof in the files he was taking with him.

  A file lay open on the desk, and written on the top of the page was one word, Campbell—and right under it several addresses, including that of the ranch. She picked up the notepad beside the phone. The writing impression left after a page was torn away was deep enough she could see it was the ranch address without resorting to scribbling over the top. Another note, wadded up and lying beside the wastepaper basket caught her attention. She scooped it up and opened it. The address written on it wasn't the ranch—it was in the Delaney's neighborhood. But, why? She dropped the paper on the desk.

  She had found the bug man. She had found the murder—murderers—hadn't she just seen both of them? She had to get the heck out of there. She had to tell Tim.

  Kimba took guns—loaded guns. She had taken the ranch address. Jacob and the kids were heading for the ranch. For all she knew, they could already be there. She had no idea what time the recorded conversation might have taken place. She had to warn Jacob and the kids. Kimba had to be after J.T.'s file.

  She raced down the stairs, and when she reached the kitchen, she turned on the cellar light and returned to the corner where she'd seen the box of clothing and knocked herself out.

  Empty space was what she found. Kimba must have decided to take the evidence with her and dump it on the way to the ranch. No one would ever find it again if she dumped it over a cliff in the foothills.

  Gasping for breath as she reentered the kitchen, Sue grabbed the phone receiver from the wall unit and stabbed in Tim's number. But Tim wasn't in the office. Sue hurriedly told MacBean what she'd found at the Charles residence, the computer, the recording. She told him the box of clothing had to be in that black vehicle with Kimba Charles. She couldn't tell him what the hell had happened to Keats Charles after he went into that room. The man literally vanished—or left while she viewed the bedroom, and she didn't hear him—which she figured was what happened. Then she tacked on the fact she'd seen the man J.T. suspected of hurting Karen at the same office with Kimba Charles. The hair might have looked different, but the face was the same.

  After asking MacBean to call J.T. on his cell phone and warn him, she slammed down the receiver, yanked on her shoes, and raced out of the house to find her car.

  * * * *

  Jacob thought Tim would have called him by now. After he stopped the van in front of the ranch house, he lifted his cell phone. The kids were out and up the steps leading to the front door before he could push the power button. Only, nothing happened when he pushed the power button. He opened the glove compartment and grabbed his other battery. He made the exchange and tried again. Again, nothing happened. At least he knew why he hadn't heard from Tim or Carley.

  The van door opened. “Hey, boss, you planning on staying in there?"

  Ben Eagle's wide grin was a welcome sight. “Good to see you, Ben.” Jacob climbed down and shook Ben's hand. The kids and Brandy were running towards them. The sun was nearly down.

  “Those kids have grown a foot,” Ben observed. “Sure have missed them being around."

  “Have I had any calls in the last hour?” Jacob asked as they walked to the back of the van. He opened the rear doors and pulled out the two suitcases Michael and Andee had packed.

  “Not that I know of. I haven't been in the house to check the answering machine.” Ben lifted the suitcases. “The kids tell me they want to stay until Sunday."

  “You know how they love it here, Ben. I think they'd rather stay a lot longer."

  “Andee thinks we ought to have a barbecue on Sunday. Maybe that's a good idea?"

  If he agreed, they wouldn't have to drive back to town till Monday. “Plan on it then, Ben. Plan on Sue being with me."

  Ben's grin got even bigger. “I've been waiting a long time for you to say that. I think we'll have one hell of a barbecue."

  “Hey, Mike,” Jacob called before the kids managed to run past them. “Take these suitcases in the house. Ben and I have some business to take care of."

  He watched Mike and Andee take the cases. “If you hurry, you can make it down to the barn before it gets dark.” All they'd talked about on the trip was seeing the new foals. He flipped on the yard lights when he reached the front door. Come to think of it, he wanted to see those foals, too.

  * * * *

  After relieving officer Boyd, Tim started to open his car door so he could go into Abby's house when his cell phone rang. “Benson, here,” he answered.

  “This is detective Manning in Des Moines,” the caller said. “I've got a photo I want to send you. I think we can get our man with it."

  “How did you come by it?” Tim sat straighter in his seat. He wanted to see Manning's find as soon as possible.

  “The owner of the car rental agency was out of town last week. Seems the woman who rented the guy a car had only been on the job a couple of days. We didn't know, and neither did she, that they had a camera taking pictures of the customers. When she would pull a key from the allotted slot, the camera would snap two photos. Anyway, the owner said they had had a rash of stolen vehicles that, when found, were trashed. Lucky for us, they installed the equipment a month ago, hoping to start recouping their losses."

  “Can you fax it to my office, now?” Maybe Abby wouldn't mind a detour
on their way to dinner.

  “It's done. I'll probably be around here until midnight, so call if you have any questions."

  Tim barely had the end button pushed when it rang again. “Benson, here,” he grumbled.

  “I think we have a situation,” MacBean's gravely voice barked. “Sue Campbell just called and you'll never imagine from where."

  “Quit fooling around, MacBean, and spill it."

  “Seems she trespassed into the Charles's residence. Says she found a box in the cellar containing Delaney's sweatshirt, some tennis shoes, and maybe a dress."

  “What the—"

  “Hang on to your britches, Benson. She was talking fast, and it was damned hard to keep up. She said she found the bug man, and murderers, that Kimba Charles left the house in a hurry, armed, and took the box of stuff with her. She also said Kimba Charles knows that J.T. and the kids are going to the ranch, and she's got the ranch address. There was some sort of recording that had his voice and Abby's on it. Something about J.T. having proof of Keats Charles's dealings, about him not being what he seems.” He paused, taking a breath. “She also said she saw the man J.T. suspected of trying to kill that friend of Sue's in Iowa. Said he was at the same agency as Mrs. Charles and took some files from her."

  “Hell,” Tim mumbled. “Listen MacBean, there's a fax coming in for us from Iowa. It's a photo of the guy who messed up Sue's lady friend by mistake. You take real good care of that fax. Maybe you can run it through the computers. Start with government workers, cause I've got a hunch. If you get nothing, head over to that office and get someone to identify the guy. You find him, you bring him in for questioning."

  “Got'cha,” MacBean said. “You headed into the foothills?"

  “In about ten minutes."

  “Want me to send anyone?"

  “Get the sheriff in the area on the horn and tell him to head for the ranch to warn J.T."