by Dana Marton
Made sense. People had a million different passwords these days, e-mail, social-media accounts, banking; basically everything you had online needed one. After a while, it got confusing. “Do you know exactly what was in that book?”
Haynes listed off everything Bing had just thought of. “I don’t know beyond that. I haven’t really looked at it much before.”
“All right. I appreciate your calling. Let me know if you remember anything else.”
If Kristine kept her passwords in there, it was possible she kept other things she needed to remember. Like account numbers that might lead to Taylor. So Taylor had to go and get it.
Bing considered that as he kept his eyes on the road that was getting progressively worse. And then he reached a really bad spot and the tires spun out, the back of the cruiser fishtailing. During winter snows and after a good spring rain, the dirt roads got pretty dicey.
He had about a mile to go to the cabin he was looking for. He shut off the engine, stepped out into the mud, and got started, moving toward high ground. Without the car, he could leave the road and walk wherever he wanted instead of having to slog through ankle-deep mud. He pressed forward, alert to every movement and noise around him, ready for anything. But Sophie was in the back of his mind, and he worried.
He dialed the ER as he pushed forward. “This is Captain Bing. I’m checking on the woman I came in with earlier. Sophie Curtis. She came in with a gunshot wound.”
“One moment, please.” A few seconds passed. “She’s still in surgery. I can’t tell you anything new. I’m sorry.”
He felt as if his own heart was being ripped out. He would have given anything just to hear the words that she was safe. Her life was the only thing that mattered, not where her heart had come from, nothing else but that she lived. His throat was so tight he could barely speak. “I want her room secured when she’s out of surgery. Nobody is to see her except essential medical personnel.” He’d given those orders before he left her, but he wanted to make sure they were being followed.
“Yes, sir. It’s already written in her file. We have a security guard waiting for her outside the operating room.”
He thanked the nurse, then hung up and kept going.
He slowed only when he could see the cabin through the trees. The place was small, probably one room with a couple of beds along the wall and a cooking stove. All wood construction, two dirty windows to the front and a heavy-duty door. Weather had scarred the siding, darkened it here and there with mold. Dead branches littered the roof.
No car in sight. But as he got closer, he could see tire tracks, a day or two old. Anything older would have been washed away by the rains. Someone had been here recently.
He walked around in a bigger circle, looking for any sign that would tell him if it’d been Taylor out here and what he’d been doing. He received the answer behind a thick stand of bushes—a mound of freshly disturbed earth.
The right size for a grave.
Who was this now? Probably someone who’d been part of Taylor’s scam and could finger him like Stacy and Kristine. Or Amanda, he thought, and fury bubbled up inside him. He didn’t think she’d been part of Taylor’s dirty business. But did she figure out what he was doing? Did Taylor kill his own wife to silence her?
Bing approached the cabin with caution, going around, coming in from the back, and keeping in a crouch as he stole up to a window. He didn’t see anyone inside, but he did see open shelves stocked with canned food and bottles of water. Taylor piling up supplies for his hiding place? Why not? He seemed to be the careful type, the type who planned.
Everyone involved in his dirty business was dead. Possibly Amanda. And for sure Stacy, Greg, and Kristine.
Greg.
Some half-formed thoughts in the back of Bing’s mind gelled together at last. Maybe Greg Bruckner’s death wasn’t an accident.
And Bing suddenly knew, with a sick certainty, that it hadn’t been. The hit-and-run was way too convenient when all the rest was considered. Taylor killed Greg Bruckner so Bruckner couldn’t finger him later. But…
He froze.
The paper had run the stupid article about Sophie getting Bruckner’s heart and his memories. And they used Bing’s finding the gun as proof of that. It all sounded real. The news crews certainly believed it.
It wasn’t true, but what if Taylor believed it too?
What if the bullet at the restaurant had been meant for Sophie?
Bing broke into a run, back to his car, moving faster than he’d ever moved in his life, fracture boot be damned. Sophie was in danger.
Taylor had to have been the intruder at Sophie’s place in the middle of the night. It hadn’t been a random break-in. Cold spread through his chest. Taylor had alibied out of that night on the strength of his computer records. What if those could be faked?
Taylor hadn’t come to the restaurant to kill Bing. He hadn’t missed his target. He’d intended to kill Sophie.
Bing careened around trees, ignoring the pain shooting up his broken foot. He was probably doing more damage, but he didn’t care if they had to cut the damn thing off, just as long he reached Sophie in time.
He came out of the woods by the road just as Chase was pulling up behind his cruiser.
Bing told him about the possible grave, and asked him to secure the potential crime scene until it could be processed. “I need your car.” Since his own was now blocked in.
He caught the keys Chase threw. He radioed to the rest of his team as soon as he was behind the wheel. “All available units to the hospital on full security detail for Sophie Curtis. Do not let anyone near her.”
He rattled down the uneven dirt road, putting his siren on as soon as he reached the main road, unable to think of anything else but the fact that Sophie was lying in some damn hospital room, and she was on a killer’s hit list.
* * *
She was in a recovery room set up for multiple patients, but she was alone in there for the moment. The nurse had come to check on her and reassure her, then went away. Sophie glanced at the monitors she was hooked up to, her mind sluggish, her body heavy.
She tried her hardest to remember what happened. The nurse had said something about a bullet and not to worry. What bullet?
Where was Bing?
They were supposed to have lunch, and he’d come, and he’d looked so good. She’d wished things could be different between them, because she was in love with him. That was her last memory.
The door opened, drawing her attention to the man who came in, a surgeon wearing scrubs, a face mask hanging around his neck, surgical gloves on his hands. Maybe he would tell her what was going on.
He came real close and bent over her, peering into her eyes as he searched her face. “Do you remember me?”
She blinked. Was she supposed to? “Did you help me?” Her mouth was so dry she could barely form the words. Her tongue didn’t want to turn. “What happened?”
He reached for a pillow from the empty bed next to her. She was about to tell him she was fine, it felt good lying flat. But the next second he pressed the pillow over her face.
Her heart clamored in her chest. She tried to fight, but she was too weak, too disoriented. And she couldn’t breathe.
* * *
Bing reached the hospital’s main entrance at the same time as Joe did. Sophie was on the second floor. Screw waiting for the elevator. Bing ran all the way.
Joe followed. “What happened?”
“I’ll explain later.” He saw the guard in front of the door as soon as he turned the last corner. He’d hoped to see his own men. He ran forward. “Is she okay?”
The security guard pulled himself straight. “Surgeon’s in there with her.”
Bing rushed by him, pulling his gun as he shoved the door open. Joe pushed in behind him.
Taylor spun, the motion knocking off the pillow he’d been holding over Sophie’s face. Fury filled his cold blue eyes. But by the time Bing raised his weapon, Taylor had
his out too, the same model that had gone missing from the Haynes house. He pressed the barrel against Sophie’s temple.
Her lips were purple, her face white, but the heart monitor showed a heartbeat, and after a moment her eyes blinked open.
“Drop your weapon!” Bing spread his legs and steadied both hands on his gun.
Taylor flashed him a cold look of hate. “Why would I do that, when I have the perfect hostage? I want you two to back out of this room.”
Joe stepped back out into the hallway. Bing only backed to the open door. He had no intention of going any farther.
Taylor had his chin up and his spine ramrod straight, trying to act the man in control, but his glance, darting to Bing’s weapon, betrayed his nervousness. It was probably the first time anyone had pulled a weapon on him. He probably hadn’t expected to be caught here.
Bing didn’t want him nervous. “How about we both put our guns down and talk like old friends?”
“I’m not talking. I’m leaving. I’ve got ten million dollars and a life waiting for me I worked too hard to set up.”
“Then stay alive for it. Put the gun down.”
Hate filled the man’s eyes. “I don’t plan on going to prison. I can’t stand small places. Being locked up isn’t for me.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Maybe the DA won’t be able to make the charges stick. Maybe you’ll get off on a technicality.”
“Maybe I’ll shoot my way out of here. There’s a sandy beach with my name on it. There’s a house on that beach. I’m going to make it to that hammock between the palm trees. That’s mine,” he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. “Do you hear me?”
He probably had something all set up down in South America. Some nice country without an extradition treaty with the US. Hell, ten million dollars would go a long way just about anywhere.
“All right.” Bing kept his eyes on Taylor’s face instead of the gun. When the man made the decision to shoot, it’d show there first. “So maybe you have the upper hand here. But a semiconscious woman hooked up to machines doesn’t exactly make the most portable hostage.” His brain was moving a mile a minute, trying to come up with a solution. “How about a switch? I put my gun down, push her out the door, bed and all, and you’ll have me.”
Taylor hesitated, eyes darting around the room again.
Bing kept going. “Nobody’s going to storm this room as long as you have a police captain in here. These are my men.” He gestured with his head back to the hallway, where Mike was arriving with Harper. “They’re not going to put my life at risk.”
Taylor shifted on his feet as he peered out to the hallway past Bing. “And then what?”
“We’ll negotiate for a car and safe passage. We walk down together, get into the car, and drive away. You let me out once you feel safe.” He shrugged. “And then you’re free.”
Taylor glanced to the door, to the window, to Sophie, his face turning grim. He shook his head. “I’ll be shot dead the second I let her go.”
“Maybe Kristine Haynes’s death was an accident,” Bing rushed to say.
He had a clear shot at the man, but he couldn’t be sure that Taylor’s finger wouldn’t twitch on the trigger at the last second. The barrel of his gun was pressed against Sophie’s temple. If the weapon discharged, there was no way the bullet could miss hitting her.
She had her eyes closed for the most part, blinking them open slowly, looking at him before they drifted closed again. She was just coming out of surgery, still sedated. And part of Bing was glad. He didn’t want her to be scared. He was going to find a way to save her.
“You killed Kristine in a crime of passion,” he told Taylor. “You didn’t mean it. Things got out of hand.”
Taylor gave a sour laugh and gripped the gun harder. “But I did mean it. She was having second thoughts. As it turned out, suburban housewives make lousy criminals.”
A confession wasn’t good. It could mean that he was giving up, that he was ready to end things the wrong way.
“So she threatened you. She wanted to turn you in. There was a heated argument. Things got out of hand. That’s a far cry from premeditation. That’s something you could use in your defense. But if you do anything here, it’ll be cold-blooded murder.”
Taylor curled his lip. “What’s one more on the list? Have you figured out Greg yet?” He switched to full-on bragging. “I took care of him too. No loose ends. He messed up. He couldn’t control his woman. She wanted out too. I told Greg he had to kill her. He couldn’t. He threw his gun at me, told me to do it my damned self. So I did. And then I took care of him. They died the same day, the lovebirds.” He laughed out loud at that. “You had no idea Stacy was screwing around on you, did you?” He tsked. “You should have kept a better eye on her.”
Bing kept his temper under control. Later he would think about this. Later he would analyze every word. Right now, nothing was as important as Sophie in that bed with the gun to her head. “Our wives were friends.”
“And now they’re both dead.” Taylor laughed again, his emotions shifting too rapidly. He’d gone from cocky to trapped to bragging within minutes. He was on the edge, dangerous and unpredictable.
The thought that it probably was Amanda in the grave behind the hunting cabin made Bing sick to his stomach. Ten million dollars. Taylor had big plans for his new life.
Except those plans had been ruined, and they both knew there was no good way out of this room.
Bing held his gun on the man. “Give yourself up. You’re a smart man.”
“Smart enough not to be manipulated.” His body stiffened as if he’d come to a difficult decision.
And Bing had a fair idea what it was. Suicide by cop.
By him specifically, because Bing had been the one to catch up with him here, the one to have ruined his grand plans for a life of luxury and beaches.
The only way out of here led to a jail, and Taylor had no intention of going there. His dreams had been too big, too elaborate, too long in the planning. He wasn’t going to trade in that fantasy for the reality of a cell.
What little power he had left was in this room. He had the power to torture Bing, the power to kill Sophie if he chose to do it. He had no regrets. He wasn’t looking for redemption. He wanted to go out on his own terms.
“Nobody has to die here today.” Bing willed the man to believe the words.
“You’re wrong about that.”
* * *
Sophie heard death in the man’s tone.
And she was sick and tired of always dancing on the edge.
Her body ached, her mind was foggy from anesthetics. She didn’t know much, but she knew that she wanted to live. She knew Bing would help, if he had half a chance. He’d just offered his life for hers. That had to mean something.
She didn’t have much strength. She had one shot at this, one move. Either it’d work or it wouldn’t. Wonderful things are on their way, she told herself and heaved, rolling off the bed, away from the madman, the tubes and sensors ripping off her and setting off the machines.
* * *
That split second of surprise was all Bing needed. As the machines madly beeped, he double-tapped Taylor without hesitation, then rushed forward to Sophie, not even waiting for the man’s body to hit the ground.
Joe and the others rushed in behind him, surrounding Taylor immediately, the gun clattering across the floor as they kicked it from his hand.
“Attacker is dead,” Harper called out the next second.
Bing only had eyes for Sophie, gathering her up into his arms, cradling her head, his heart going as if he’d run across town. He’d held his emotions at bay until now, but they rushed him all at once. His knees were going weak at the thought of what could have happened.
Thank God, it didn’t. He just needed to stay here, and just hold her for maybe like the next ten years. Just until his nerves settled. “Are you all right?”
She clutched her side and gasped as she looked up a
t him. “That hurt.”
“You probably ripped out your stitches.” He lifted her gently onto the bed, hating to let her go but wanting to make her more comfortable, then called toward the door. “Get a doctor in here!”
He pulled the green curtain that hung from the ceiling. His officers could deal with Taylor’s body on the other side.
He held Sophie’s hand as she was checked over by a nurse who reattached tubes and sensors. Then a resident came in and checked her over again for concussion and possible broken bones. She didn’t seem to have either. He redid her stitches so the nurse could put on a new bandage.
“Is she all right?” Bing asked, still numb inside; he wouldn’t have let go of her hand for anything.
“She’ll be closely monitored for internal bleeding. She needs to rest. I’m going to have her moved to another room so the officers can do what they need to do here.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Are you with her?”
“Yes.” Forever, if she’d have him. He’d work on that later. For now, for starters, he needed to get her to forgive him.
The intern turned to leave. “Make sure she stops leaping around.”
Bing promised.
“What are you going to do, sit on me?” Sophie groused from the bed.
Bing tightened his fingers around hers. “Maybe I will.” He wasn’t going anywhere. He held her gaze. “Listen, I’ve been stupid. About the heart. I’m sorry. I’m not going to be stupid like that again. I know what I want.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”
“Only you.” And as he said the words, he felt a tremendous weight lifting from his chest. “It’s always been only you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove it and get you to trust me again. All I want is a chance.”
He was pretty much begging. And his officers on the other side of the divider were hearing it. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered beyond winning Sophie back.
“All right.” She narrowed her eyes. “But if you break my heart, I’m going to have Peaches have words with you.”
