19 Souls

by J. D. Allen

  They all stood. He took a position at the far end of the table.

  “Tell me about Maria Callas,” Ava said before he had a chance to ask her any questions.

  “What about her?” He crossed his arms. Defensive.

  “Where does she live?” Ava kept her arms limp at her sides. Relaxed.

  He huffed. “Not sure how much I can divulge about her, you know, legally.”

  “I assure you that, legally, you can tell me her home address and her phone number.” Jim wasn’t sure that was true. But the FBI had more leeway than regular Joes thanks to the national security umbrella of changes.

  “Not sure I want to.” Dave was trying for tough, but he just looked smug. Jim wanted to punch this guy right in his perfect nose.

  Ava strode over to him, stopping right in his face. “If I want to, I can charge you with interfering with a federal investigation, Dave.”

  Something told Jim that Special Agent Webb was not impressed with the pretty boy in the expensive suit.

  “Harboring a fugitive.” One side of her lip rose as if she were thinking hard. “Maybe even accomplice?”

  “Hey!” Dave put his hands up as if to surrender and took two steps back before his butt hit the wall. “Not so fast. I’m just saying that HR might not like me giving out personal information. What’s this really about anyway?”

  “National security. Can’t tell you.” She opened her jacket. “Now am I arresting you, or do you have the information I’ve requested?”

  “I have her number on my cell, but I’ll have to get the address and shit.” He dialed the speakerphone on the table. “Helen, I need Maria Callas’s records in first floor, conference two, ASAP.” He hung up after the woman confirmed the request. “So really, Maria is my best salesperson. Brings in about seventy million a year. Is she in trouble?”

  Jim ignored the last part. “She works commission?”

  “Oh yes.” He grinned. “And she’s good.”

  “You sell hospital supplies?” Ava asked.

  “No.” Dave’s face lit up. “Software that integrates all systems in the hospital. Accounting, ordering, inventory, HR, even patient care and records. A portal. One-stop shop.”

  “But she’s in hospitals all the time?” Jim asked.

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  So she had plenty of access to drugs, assuming she had the talent to get by security. But then again she’d gotten by a cop and federal agent in the safe house and evaded getting caught for about umpteen murders.

  Dave continued, “She travels all over the world visiting potential clients. She’s gone all the time. I’ve only seen her in person maybe five times.”

  A woman knocked on the door. Another young, pretty, upwardly mobile person stood on the other side of the glass.

  Dave opened the door for her and she beamed her whitened teeth at him. “Here you go, Mr. Layton.”

  “Thank you, Helen. That will be all.”

  She hesitated after seeing the strangers in the room with her personnel file.

  “Really. I have this.”

  She backed out.

  He opened the file. “Breckenridge.” He made a surprised sound. “I didn’t realize that. Strange, she never said she lived up there.”

  Jim figured it wasn’t so strange at all. Lots of ski cabins up there. Lots of privacy to do whatever she wanted.

  He read off the address. Ava typed it on her phone. Jim memorized it.

  Dave also rattled off her number. Jim would remember that too.

  “Her area code is Bakersfield?”

  “Yeah. Company phone. Company car.” He shrugged. “You make the sales she does, you get all the perks.”

  “How much you figure she earned last year?” Jim asked.

  He looked up at the ceiling as if to add in his head. “Can’t remember exactly. Probably close to a million.”

  Well. That was certainly enough to bankroll all her activities. “And she works her own hours?”

  “I thought you said you wanted to talk to her as a witness. This sounds more like she’s in trouble for something.” His bright smile was gone, replaced by tight eyebrows that were also perfectly shaped. Jim wondered if he had them tweezed.

  “If she calls, please don’t tell her we were here, Mr. Layton. That would be grounds for charges. You understand?”

  Dave nodded, his smugness exchanged for a hint of fear.

  Ava handed him her card. “You keep the conversation to whatever normal business you’d conduct and then call me if she calls in.”

  “Is Maria in trouble?”

  “You could say that.”

  52

  The road twisted up to Breckenridge. Back and forth, winding like a snake with a bellyache. It was summer, so there was no snow to fight, just vacationers in their oversized campers taking up both lanes. Jim supposed it should be a pretty drive, but the circumstances distorted the beauty of the scenery.

  When she got a clear bit of asphalt, Ava pushed the Town Car along far above the posted limit. She bit her bottom lip and tapped the steering wheel with her index finger. Anxious. Worried. Pressured from her boss to get this psycho before she made more headlines.

  No one had been told of the connections to past killings. The media was focused on the brutality of the Cynthia Hodge murder and was unaware of the depth and breadth of Sophie’s killings. It wouldn’t be long until someone leaked something. Secrets were not long kept in Vegas, no matter the city’s slogan. It should be Whatever will make news in Vegas will make the news.

  They came to the fork in the road. Ava eased left. Before long the pavement gave way to a white-graveled path that would take them to Sophie’s hideout.

  The driveway was long and tree-lined. Postcard material. The forest was too thick to make out any structure from there. Too dangerous to drive up to the house, and their backup was still on the way.

  She pulled the car off just past the drive. Foot power from here on out. Ava opened the trunk, loaded, and cocked a shotgun. She offered it to Jim without words.

  He considered it, then shook his head. “Not for me.” He looked toward the house. “Shouldn’t we wait for the SWAT team?”

  “We’re just going to take a peek. Assess the situation.” He liked her style.

  Twigs, pine cones, and other material crushed beneath his feet no matter where he placed his big boot. A particularly loud snap made Ava stop and glare at him. He cringed. How Native Americans used to be so quiet was beyond him. Maybe that was historic urban legend.

  Sneaking up like this had his heart flopping around in his chest like a super ball. This much tension was bad. Made him nervous. Jumpy. It was dangerous. He attributed it to the fact that he wanted Sophie too bad and was worried over Sandy.

  Personal investment was doubled down in this case. Bad mojo made for bad outcomes. Declining the gun had been a good idea. He was ready to jump out of his skin. And just like O said, a squirrel could run by and startle him enough to shoot Ava in her cute little ass.

  She glanced back as if she heard his thoughts but pressed on. The sapling trees and vines tripped them up, slowing progress. A bead of sweat had rolled down his back and more would follow. He had his slap-jack in his right hand. Ava had her handgun at the ready and the shotgun hung over her shoulder.

  She eased through the woods with a grace Jim would never possess, as if the branches and twigs were intentionally not in her way. That wasn’t possible. The bottom line was his mass and momentum carried a volume hers did not.

  She stopped and braced with her back against a tree. She pointed ahead. There was a narrow cabin at the end of the gravel. Two-story, given the height of the windows. Nice. Something a family from L.A. would rent for a week of skiing in December. He could picture a large Christmas tree covered in fat multicolored lights reflecting onto new snow through the wall
of windows. Of course it was the middle of the day in August and nothing twinkled. Regardless, not the kind of place a murderer brought her victims to be tortured and killed. His gut told him something was off.

  “No cars.” It was a very low whisper.

  “Maybe around back?”

  Ava nodded. She pointed to the right and to him. “On three,” she said without sound.

  “What about the backup?”

  “They’ll be here.”

  Not what he meant. She held up one narrow finger. No polish. No rings.

  One.

  She would go to the left, he to the right. But the place looked deserted.

  Two.

  She didn’t look back at him. Her brain was already on her mission. Jim’s brain was deciphering what his gut was screaming at him. Would Sophie leave her hostages unattended after so much careful planning?

  Three.

  Ava moved out. That left him no choice. He turned and headed in his assigned direction, skirting just inside the tree line.

  The yard was narrower on his side, bringing him closer to the house. Glare from the sun blocked his view inside the tall front windows. A cheerful spring wreath with white birds on it adorned the front door.

  Maybe this was the wrong place. Maybe she’d used a false address with her employer. That would make sense.

  He crouched and ducked behind the front bushes to try for a glance inside. He stopped just short of the floor-to-ceiling windows. He peeked in quickly, saw nothing, and then waited a few seconds before a second look, this one longer.

  Bright, open, and airy. There was cabin-themed decor everywhere. A bear rug and log furnishings with heavy plaid fabrics. The kitchen was at the back of the large two-story room. No one in sight.

  He headed back the direction he’d come and continued to the back of the cabin. That side of the building was logs all the way up. One small window, shoulder height. Bathroom. It was covered by a curtain. Nothing to see. He made it around the back.

  That was better than expected as well. Multi-level deck. Hot tub. Grill. Flowers decorated the area. It was only ten yards from a large pond. High-dollar for a hideout.

  Ava stood at the back door, weapon lowered. “I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Me either. Looks like we might be in the wrong place.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. May look pretty, but it feels creepy as hell.”

  He looked in the back door window around the drawn curtain.

  She tried the door. The knob turned.

  “Thought you wanted it all by the book?”

  “That would be best. But … ”

  “Sandy’s clock is counting down,” he said, glad she was using his line of logic today.

  She nodded. “Dan’s not exactly safe either.”

  A low chirping noise repeated several times. Not a bird. Electronic. He looked down, following the line of the bottom rail of the deck. A small round device was screwed to the post closest to the door. That was some kind of trigger. Triggers meant things going boom.

  “Motion detector.”

  “What?”

  He grabbed Ava around the waist. No time to explain. He pulled her away from the door. Tangled legs made them both stumble down the two levels of deck steps. He recovered first and pulled her toward the pond. She caught her footing and started running with him. They were about five feet from the water when the world ended.

  53

  No sound.

  Jim was deafened. His legs were numb and he couldn’t breathe. No way this was good.

  He tried to breathe, drew in water. In a panic his lungs coughed out the fluid. Jim tried to move his arms. They answered.

  In an instant his body returned to the normal responses to his mental commands. But his hearing was still off. He realized he was in the pond, one leg pinned under a large piece of timber. He sat up and his head was above the water.

  Heat pressed against the back of his head. He twisted around. The cabin was ablaze. All of it. Immense logs of the framework had folded in on themselves like a Boy Scout campfire on steroids. The yard was littered with the shards, large and small, of the exploded timbers.

  “Ava!”

  He didn’t see her. He dug in the mud, pulling at his leg. It didn’t feel broken, only trapped. This was going to leave a mark. He held his breath to fold forward and dig at the mud holding him under the wood.

  Ragged shards scraped his trapped leg. His foot twisted first, then his calf. He pushed up with all his weight and the timber rolled off. He stood in the water, testing his steadiness. His shin would carry a nasty bruise for a while, but he’d live.

  “Ava!” Strange to listen to himself yell and not hear a thing.

  He started out of the water and saw her sit up in a tall patch of reeds a couple of yards away. Her hair was a soaking-wet mess, her head was bleeding and her arm hung limp and twisted in an impossible direction. Her shoulder was dislocated or broken. Either way, she would be in a great deal of pain when the shock of the blast wore off.

  Smoke billowed past, obscuring his path as he waded in her direction. The cabin burned like dry kindling.

  “You okay?” He said it but was sure her hearing would be as dampened as his.

  Her reaction was neither positive nor negative. But she did mouth something he could understand. Her hand went to her head wound first. She gently tested the cut and then inspected the blood it left on her fingers. Then she tried to move her left arm. He barely made out the screech of pain that accompanied the action.

  “Keep it still.”

  He dug for his phone. Wet. No bars. No signal. They had passed several other cabins on the way in. Surely someone heard the explosion. Backup was on the way. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around her body, tucking it under her arm with the least amount of movement to her shoulder as possible. She cringed again.

  “Sorry.”

  He tied it off, making a sling of sorts. Would hold it better than nothing.

  54

  The cell phone on the dash started talking. A ring tone. The cartoon. Marvin the Martian. “Where’s the Kaboom? There should have been an earth-shattering Kaboom.”

  No need to respond. It was an electronic message sent from the device planted under the cabin.

  She closed her eyes, ignoring the road. The bastards had found her happy place. Her retreat. The thought was a soul-sucking wound in her stomach. There wasn’t much she was attached to in this world. That cabin had been about it. Since they found her birth mother, Sophie had suspected Bean may be good enough to find her.

  She was right. He would be punished.

  She took in a yoga breath. Long, deep, it filled first her chest and then her belly with fresh air.

  Good thing she had trusted her intuition and headed northeast.

  “Fucking PI.”

  A horn blared. She opened her eyes. She was half in the right lane. Who cared? Calmly she steered the van back into her lane.

  She envisioned the explosion. The creep she’d bought the C4 from promised spectacular. Even setting them up she’d been torn. That plan was a double-edged sword. If it worked, the cabin—her dream home—was gone.

  Not what she planned. No.

  Told you so.

  “Shut up.”

  You should have just found Danny yourself.

  “Not now.”

  The nag was right. There had been no lack of trying on Sophie’s part. For months she had searched for Dan. She sat taller so she could see him through the rearview mirror.

  He was sleeping, his body laid out on the bench as if he was in his bed, a peaceful expression on his angel face

  Sophie sighed. She should have kept at the hunt herself. Instead, she’d lost patience and hired that irritating PI. Bean was supposed to be a loser only after a quick buck. He h
ad even acted like a loser both on the phone and at that pathetic diner. No professionalism. No receptionist. No office building.

  She gripped the steering wheel. With any luck Bean was right there when the house blew. Standing on her porch, or even better, inside. She closed her eyes again. She’d loved that house and had looked forward to living her perfect life with Danny there. Fucker. He’d been nothing but trouble.

  She turned up the radio and let the music fill the rolling metal box. It was loud. Violins echoed off the walls. It was not a proper sound stage for Schubert, but it would help soothe Sophie’s worn nerves. Carla raised her head for a moment and settled back down.

  Let it go. Move forward. She tried to push the rage away. Send it down to that place where it disappeared in her gut in a tiny ball of shit to be flushed away. Anger did her no good. The house was just full of things. Nothing she couldn’t replace.

  The bigger problem was that Bean and his helpers were so close on her tail. Digging in her business. She wasn’t used to people knowing about her, knowing her history or her details. A strange sense of anger and shame filled her. Not that she was shamed by any of her actions. No. Only the few loose ends she’d left behind caused her any embarrassment. One day she would go back and eliminate all those loose ends.

  A situation like this called for going on the offensive. No running for Sophie Evers.

  She glared at the waitress in the back. She didn’t look as comfortable as Danny. She was sitting, her head at an awkward angle. Good. It was time to use that leverage.

  The GPS unit said she had one hour, twenty-three minutes until arrival. Sophie needed to hold it together that long. She needed to get those two unloaded, count her losses, and then solidify a new plan. There was lots of stuff at the cabin that could be evidence. But she was sure there was nothing about Indiana. And if there was, the explosion and the incendiary devices should have destroyed all of it. Still, you could never tell with fire. It did what it wanted.