The woman in the picture in Lucia’s room spun in his head. It had to be related. Too many coincidences. Too many unknowns. Lucia would be devastated, but they had to leave. Tonight. He couldn’t wait to find out what was going on. He had to preempt any possible attack.
Maria was here.
He thumbed back to the image of him and Sarah. The thought of never seeing her again left a hollow ache in his chest. “The only person who had an issue with me that night was Sarah’s ex-husband.”
“No deep, dark secrets in your past?” Mike rested his elbows on his knees. His clasped hands fell between his knees.
Cristan’s smile felt as if it would shatter the frozen muscles of his face. “I live a quiet, boring life, Mike.”
The chief didn’t blink. “Except for this week.”
“Except for this week,” Cristan admitted. But he was going to put the past week—and all the associated danger—behind them. Tomorrow, they would be far away from Westbury.
“Have you checked with Sarah’s ex?” Cristan asked. There was no better way to get rid of a cop than to dangle another suspect in front of him. “He is the only person I can think of who has taken any interest in me. He seems irrational and jealous. I was only being a good friend and helping Sarah that night.”
Mike’s eyebrow twitched. “Nice of you.” Clearly, the cop didn’t believe him.
“Troy?” Cristan prompted.
“Troy is next on my list.” Mike stood, leaned over the desk, and swept the pictures into the envelope. “I might need you to identify the robbers.”
“I only saw one of their faces, and his nose was bleeding heavily at the time. His features were distorted.”
“Anything you can tell us will help,” Mike said.
Cristan ushered him out of his office and toward the foyer. “Of course. I’ll do whatever you need. Call me.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” Mike went out the front door. “Good night.”
Cristan shut the door on the police chief and went up the stairs. Despite his dread of the coming conversation, urgency quickened his steps. He knocked on Lucia’s door.
“Come in.”
He opened the door. She was lying across her bed, her laptop open to a text document in front of her. Her eyes locked on his face, and she sat bolt upright. “What happened?”
Cristan hesitated. “The two men who robbed the convenience store have been found.”
“That’s good, right?” she asked.
He sat down on the corner of the bed and took her hands in his. “They’re dead. Someone killed them and left them near Sarah’s house.”
Confusion tilted her head. “What? Why? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No one knows yet.”
“But Chief O’Connell’s going to find out, right?” she asked. “That’s his job.”
“It is.” Cristan searched for the words to soften the blow and found none. “But we have to leave.”
“No.” Lucia snatched her hands out of his and backed away from him. “You promised.”
“I’m sorry. I truly wish this hadn’t happened.” The pain in her eyes lanced his heart.
“I don’t understand.” A tear escaped from her eye. She swiped it away with an angry hand. “Those men robbed the convenience store. What does that have to do with us?”
“It’s too much of a coincidence that their bodies were left outside Sarah’s house.”
“Sarah’s house. Not ours.”
“There were pictures of me in the van,” Cristan said, wishing he didn’t have to give her the details, but knowing he couldn’t just expect her to blindly obey. She deserved answers if he was going to rip her life up by the roots.
Trembling, Lucia stumbled off the bed. She backed to the wall and wrapped her arms around her waist. Her face paled. “I’m not leaving.”
“We have to. It isn’t safe here anymore.”
Two spots of color brightened her cheeks. “Safe from what? What aren’t you telling me?”
He couldn’t lie to her anymore. She wasn’t a child. She needed to know. When the time came for her to be on her own, she would have to be on guard. In order for her to be prepared to live without him someday, she needed to know the nature of the threat she faced. “Your mother wasn’t killed in a car accident.”
Lucia’s mouth opened, then closed before she uttered a word.
Cristan continued, “She was murdered.”
Tears ran down Lucia’s cheeks, but she ignored them. Her gaze was completely focused on Cristan. “You lied.”
“I didn’t want you to grow up afraid.”
“You’ve lied to me my whole life.” Her words ended on a sob she tried to swallow.
“I did what I thought was best. You were very young. I couldn’t take the chance that you would give something away.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been very young for a long time.” Her palms flattened against the Sheetrock behind her, as if she wanted to go through the wall. “When were you going to tell me the truth?”
He had no more excuses. “I should have told you before now.”
“Who murdered my mother?”
“An enemy of her family.” He took a step toward her.
She slid along the wall away from him. “And?”
How could he tell her that the person trying to kill him could be her aunt? If so, he couldn’t imagine that Maria would want to kill her niece, but could she want to take Lucia? Why, after all these years? The anniversary of the massacre was in three days. Perhaps that was the trigger.
He phrased his words carefully. “I am afraid the people who killed your mother will come for you.” That was the truth. He had spent the last twelve years terrified that Aline would find them.
“This is why we’ve been running for my whole life? That’s what we’ve been doing, right? All those moves had nothing to do with your job.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t care. I’m not leaving. I have friends here. I have a life. What good is being alive if I’m miserable?”
“You can make new friends.”
“No.” She wiped her face with both hands. “I won’t do it.”
“I’m not giving you the choice.” Cristan sharpened his tone, hating every word. “You have two hours to pack what you want to take. Everything has to fit in the back of the Range Rover.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Lucia. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But I love you more than life itself. I cannot allow any danger near you when I have the power to keep you safe.” Cristan went to the door, his body heavy, his heart black. “Two hours.”
“I’ll hate you.”
“I know, but at least you’ll be alive.” He walked down the hall and into his own room. He rubbed the center of his chest. Breaking his daughter’s heart was fracturing his. But what could he do? Nothing. There would be no end to the price Lucia would pay for his sins.
He packed what he needed in ten minutes, then went to the basement to double-check their go-bags and load everything into the SUV. He never drove the Range Rover. It wasn’t even a registered vehicle. He kept three different license plates that could be changed as he moved across the country. As he loaded the SUV, his mind drifted to the one subject he’d suppressed all evening: Sarah.
If those men had been placed intentionally near Sarah’s house by someone from Cristan’s past as a message to him, then he’d brought her into his nightmare. He reached into the bottom of the duffel bag and withdrew a small, locked box. The numbers spun easily as he set the combination. Opening the box, he pulled out passports and driver’s licenses. Who should he be next? Each of his escape plans was complete with bank accounts and credit cards. Provisions had been made to dissolve Rojas Corp and funnel the assets into an offshore account.
But he’
d led a killer to Sarah’s door.
He stared at the passports in his hand. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave and abandon Sarah and her children. They were targets now, and that was his fault.
But what was he going to do? His daughter had to come first. Maybe he could help Sarah after he got Lucia safely hidden. At the very least, he would warn Mike.
Heading for the steps, he went in search of his daughter. He had much more to tell her. It was time he was entirely—or at least mostly—honest with her. There were some things about the day her mother was killed that Cristan would never want her to know.
“Lucia?” he called as he approached her room.
No answer. The door was almost closed. He pushed against the wood. Her room was empty. The picture Sarah had given her was on the bed, the back of the frame pried open, the article removed. He checked the closet. No backpack. He ran through the upstairs calling her name. She couldn’t have left. She couldn’t be out there, alone. Cristan’s mind ran to the woman in the newspaper photo, the one who reminded him of Eva, and to the two dead men with pictures of Cristan in their van. Something dangerous was out there, waiting, planning. He could feel malicious intent in the air. The thought of his little girl, alone and vulnerable while an unknown threat lurked, sent panic spiraling through him like a drill.
“Lucia!” He ran down the stairs and swept through the rooms on the first floor. In the hall, the wall frame that had contained the photo of Eva and Lucia was empty. A last check of the basement confirmed his worst fear.
Lucia was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The small boat rocked in the current. In the shadow of an overhanging tree, she trained her night vision binoculars on the back of Christopher’s house. He’d chosen well. The house sat on a hill. Open ground on all four sides gave a possible intruder nowhere to hide. Likewise, there was no way for a car to linger in the road without being seen. Her lieutenant was sitting down the road. The best he could do was watch the end of Christopher’s driveway.
And the only vantage point to view the rear of the house was the river. She’d borrowed a small boat and paddled downstream to a huge tree. Exposed roots clutched the bank like talons. She’d tied her boat to a root in the shadows. From here she was invisible.
She checked her phone. No messages. Christopher hadn’t left by car. A light in the basement went on. What was he doing? When would he run?
At this point, he had to know someone from his past was after him. Carving the V into the bodies was a message she hoped he’d received. If not, the pictures in the van would speak loudly enough. He’d be prepping to flee now, and getting him out of that fortress he’d built was her first step. A light on the top floor went out. They were still in the house.
If she knew Christopher, it wouldn’t take him long to put his gear together. He’d be ready.
The back door opened and a figure slipped out into the dark. She followed the movement across the meadow. The body was too small to be Christopher. Luciana!
The child raced across the field directly toward her.
Stunned, she lowered the binoculars. This was an unexpected, but welcome, event. If she took Luciana, she could make Christopher do anything. The child was his weakness.
The sound of steady footfalls and regular breathing approached. She stilled. Water lapped on the sides of her boat. There was no way she could get to the bank in time to intercept the girl. Better to wait and follow her into the woods, where there was no chance of Christopher hearing the encounter.
She held her breath as the girl passed within thirty feet of her, ran along the edge of the water, and disappeared into the forest. Once the footsteps had faded, she pulled the boat to the edge of the bank and climbed out. Her foot slipped in the half-frozen mud, and icy water invaded her boot. Ignoring it, she clambered onto the giant root ball.
Her gaze went to the house. She raised her binoculars. There was no sign of Christopher. Did he know Luciana was gone? Would he follow? Just in case, she checked her weapons. Handgun, spare clip, knife. She had a flashlight but preferred not to use it. Being in the dark for hours, her eyes had adjusted.
She headed into the woods on the trail Luciana had used. There was no sign of the girl, but the child had covered the meadow rapidly. She was obviously in good condition. Catching her would not be easy.
Especially for one in less-than-prime shape.
The cold bit into her lungs. Once the darkness closed around her, she slowed her pace, accessed the GPS on her phone, and viewed a map of the area. On the other side of this patch of woods was a local highway. If Luciana followed the river, that’s where she would end up. She estimated the distance and time it would take to traverse the trail in the dark, then sent her driver a message.
When Luciana emerged from the woods, he would be waiting.
After the emergency vehicles had left her street, Sarah sat alone in her kitchen. Since their bedtime had come and gone, Mrs. Holloway had offered to keep Alex, Em, and Bandit overnight. The house was too quiet, and Sarah’s nerves hummed. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the bodies in the van. Mike was right. She shouldn’t stay here alone tonight. She’d pack a bag and drive out to Mike and Rachel’s place.
She dialed her sister’s number.
“Hello?” Rachel answered, her voice sounding uncharacteristically weak.
“Is everything all right?” Sarah asked.
Rachel groaned. “I think I ate something bad.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No,” Rachel answered. “You’d better keep your distance in case this is a virus instead of food poisoning. I’d hate to give this to the girls. I’m going to crawl into bed and stay there.”
“OK. But call me if you need anything.” Sarah ended the call. Maybe she could sleep on Mrs. Holloway’s couch.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She tensed, expecting the caller to be Troy.
Cristan.
She answered. “Hello.”
“Sarah, Lucia is gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
His voice was low, angry, and desperate. “We had an argument. She ran away.”
“OK. Calm down. How long has she been gone?”
“Maybe two hours. Maybe a bit less.”
“Then she couldn’t have gotten too far.” Sarah could picture him pacing. “Call Mike. I’ll come and help you look for her.”
To her surprise, he didn’t argue. She left the house, locked up behind her, and headed for Cristan’s house. She knew where he lived. She’d dropped Lucia off once, but she’d never been in his house.
The big stone house sat on a hill at the end of a long driveway. Sarah parked and went up to the front door. Cristan answered before she knocked. He must have been watching for her.
“Did you call Mike?” she asked.
“Yes. He’s notifying the state police and county sheriff’s department. He’s also calling in some firemen to help look for her.”
“Good.” Sarah stepped into the foyer. With the heavy stone exterior, she’d expected a closed-in house full of antiques, but Cristan’s furnishings were sleek and minimalistic. He’d only bothered with the bare essentials. The sole attempt to make the space more personal was a row of photographs in the hall. She paused. One of the frames hung empty and crooked. Other than the framed pictures, the walls were mostly bare. She peered through the doorway into the living room. No knickknacks adorned the furniture. They lived here, but the sparse decor suggested a reluctance to make this place a home.
He paced the oak floorboards, one hand clutching the back of his head.
“I assume you searched outside.”
“Yes.” He pivoted and took three strides down the hall. “I drove several miles in each direction as well.”
“How did she get out?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not
sure. The security system was off. She must have turned off the alarm and walked out the door.” He swept a hand through his thick black hair.
“Where were you?” Sarah asked.
“In the basement.”
“Did you try to trace her phone?”
He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “She left it in her room.”
Smart kid.
“I called her best friend. She’s in New York City with her mother and hasn’t heard from Lucia.”
Sarah walked closer. His pain and fear were palpable. She reached out and touched his arm. “We’ll find her.”
He stopped, the tendons on each side of his neck as tight as electrical lines. “Thank you. But she was very upset with me.”
“Want to tell me what you fought about?”
“Not right now, but she has every reason to be angry.” Misery etched his face. “I haven’t been the best father.”
Sarah squeezed his forearm. “Parenting is hard. No one is perfect. All we can do is our best. Trust me. I know all about making mistakes.”
He nodded. “I have to go out and look for her.”
“What did Mike say?”
“He wants me to stay here in case she comes home, but I can’t sit still while she is out there.” His hand swept toward the door. The scope of his gesture suggested the motion stood for bigger fears than he could express. “Alone.”
Sarah tightened her hold on his arm. The muscles under her palm were rigid. “Mike will find her. You need to trust him.”
A painful sigh left his chest, and his face was twisted with misery. “I don’t know if I’m capable.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, the muscles of his back hard and taut under her fingers. “I hate to ask this, but what do you think Lucia would do if she saw you? Would she come to you or would she hide?”
“I don’t know.” The weight of his chin settled on the top of her head.
“Can you tell me what you fought about?” Sarah’s heart ached for him.
“No.” His body shifted. His hands gripped her arms, and he pushed her away. His dark eyes closed off again. “I lied to her, and I don’t know if she will ever forgive me.”
She Can Kill Page 17
