The Terror (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 18)

by Jonas Saul

  “What? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Mason and Ashford go way back. They were partners once.”

  “Not good,” was all Parkman could think to say. The toothpick dropped from his mouth. “Lee, you have to find these guys.” He raised his voice. “Right now.”

  Lee slapped the button on his desk. “Julie, anything on Mason?” He released the button. “I’m sorry, Parkman. I don’t know how I missed it.”

  Julie’s voice came over the speaker. “Mason isn’t picking up.”

  “Try Calder’s phone. Or Waters. Do it and get back to me.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Lee leaned back in his chair and stared out his office window. A palpable silence fell over the room. Parkman reached for another toothpick, disregarding the one on the floor. He shuffled his foot over it until it rolled under Lee’s desk.

  “What about our luggage?” Parkman asked. “Did someone think to grab that?”

  Lee swung his chair toward Amparo and raised his eyebrows. Amparo rubbed his palms along his thighs.

  “We were told to bring them here,” Amparo said, his voice sounding nervous now. “I can’t account for the others, but I did what I was told.”

  “You’re telling me everything?” Lee asked.

  Amparo nodded. “Absolutely, sir.”

  Parkman felt Amparo was probably in the dark as to what the other members of the volunteer foursome were up to. The young officer’s forehead glistened with worry. He may not know what his fellow officers were up to, but he knew he’d be held accountable for it.

  After a few more moments of calm, Parkman had a chance to put his thoughts in order. Sarah could take care of herself. Her connection to Vivian was stronger than ever after what happened in Denmark. He wasn’t psychic himself, but something told him she’d be just fine.

  “Why were we pulled off the plane?” Parkman asked.

  “A double murder at a coffee shop in Vernon took place this morning.”

  “Same MO?”

  “It’s our guy.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Lee nodded. “He left a note on the window of the store for Sarah.”

  Parkman sat forward and flipped the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “He knows about Sarah?”

  “After yesterday, of course. Everyone knows. Papers went crazy with Sarah coverage. I said this would happen. Our unsub put it all together. He’ll know who Sarah is and what she’s done to sabotage his progress.”

  “What did the note say?” Parkman asked, flipping the toothpick to the other side again and biting down on it.

  “It basically said that Sarah was to blame for the deaths of those two people. Because of her interference, Thirio would go on a killing spree and no one could catch him.”

  “Thirio?” Parkman said the word out loud. “You know the guy’s name?”

  “Whoever wrote the note signed it Thirio.”

  “Did it come up in any databases?”

  Lee shook his head. “Nothing. We’re assuming it’s not his real name.”

  “Fingerprints?”

  Lee shook his head again. “No, but the perp left his gun behind. No prints on it, either.”

  “Can he be that good to leave no trace?” Parkman crossed his arms. “Why leave the gun behind?”

  “We suspect he wipes everything down or wears gloves. The gun was loaded. It might have been an oversight.”

  The intercom buzzed on his desk.

  “No answer on Waters’ phone,” Julie said. “Nor Calder’s.”

  “Fuck,” Lee shouted. He pressed the button. “Okay, I need you to send someone out to the airport for Parkman’s and Sarah’s luggage. Please confirm when you have it.”

  “Will do.”

  Parkman glanced at Amparo, then back to Lee.

  “GPS Mason’s phone,” he said. “Send out a BOLO. Do something, Lee, before I lose my fucking mind.”

  “I’m on it, Parkman.”

  Lee picked up his phone.

  Chapter 19

  Shirt pasted to her back, Sarah continued along the dirt road, the only relief from the heat were the high trees keeping the direct sun off her. The arid conditions in her mouth made her imagine chewing sand. Mild swelling had blossomed on her inner cheek.

  How far up Myra Canyon Road Mason had gone before turning off to park was unknown. She hadn’t memorized that part of the ride. It couldn’t be too much longer. At every corner, she anticipated seeing Waters’ cruiser parked sideways across the road. Or maybe he would get tired of waiting and drive toward her.

  She retrieved Mason’s gun from her waistband, wiped her hand on her shirt, then gripped it tight, her palm moistening again almost immediately.

  The next corner had to be it. The clock was ticking and she needed to be in Vernon in just over a half hour.

  Lee was going to be pissed. But not as pissed as when he learned that his cops had planned to murder her. Unless he had something to do with it. He was the man who sent Mason’s team after all. How could he not know of Mason’s loyalty to the dead Barry Ashford?

  A voice broke through her thoughts. Someone was talking up ahead. She trotted to the side of the road and hid at the corner.

  “What are you talking about?” Waters said. “Slow down.” There was a pause. “She did what?” Another pause. The sound of gravel being disturbed probably meant Waters spun to look up Myra Canyon Road—toward her. “How long ago?” Waters asked. “Okay. Got it. I’ll find her.” Silence. She waited. Was the call done? Then Waters said, “Okay, Calder. There’s no way I’m bringing her in. What she knows now. Forget it. I’ll shoot on sight.” Sarah lowered her head, stared at the small pebbles by her feet, and shook her head. No one ever learns. “Okay. I’m on it.”

  Waters had to be twenty feet away. She heard his footsteps and tried to calculate distance. Was he walking toward her or toward his car?

  A lock clicked. The trunk. He’s retrieving something out of the trunk of the cruiser.

  Cops have bigger guns in their trunks?

  The trunk lid slammed down.

  Calder knew what was going on now, too. To call Waters and warn him meant Calder had made it to Mason.

  Or Mason had another cell phone. The one in her hand was a burn phone. Shit!

  Waters’ footsteps drew closer. Sarah dropped lower and assumed a shooter’s stance, the weapon aiming for Waters’ legs.

  In the distance, a car engine revved. Something deep, like the growl of a large truck. Waters’ footsteps ground to a halt. Sarah leapt up and quietly stepped out into the open, Mason’s gun aimed at Officer Waters. The cop was six feet away, his back to her. She had been right about the weapon in the trunk of the cruiser. He held a large police-issue shotgun.

  Remington Model 870, Vivian whispered to her softly. A 12-gauge, pump action shotgun. Police and military issue.

  Fuckin’ great, Sarah said back.

  A monster truck at the bottom of the road saw the cruiser and slowed, then stopped. As Waters watched, with Sarah behind him, the truck backed up and began a three-point turn.

  Waters pivoted on his heels. He started when he saw her. Their eyes met. The shotgun jerked in his hands.

  With no time to wait and see Waters’ intentions, Sarah fired Mason’s weapon. Then fired again even as the first bullet punched into Waters’ left thigh.

  Waters did a spasm of a dance as he got hit—twice—then dropped his weapon and wrapped both hands around the wound. He hopped on his right foot, trying to stay upright.

  She was lucky enough to nail him with both bullets, one in the thigh, the other entered at the top of his left foot. He’d stumbled with the thigh shot, but it was the foot impact that made him dance on his good leg.

  Sarah lurched forward, grabbed him around the lapels before he could fall, and half lifted, half propelled him back toward his cruiser. Within three steps, Waters’ legs came out from under him. He fell with a grunt and a whiny moan.

  “I hate shootin
g cops,” she shouted at him.

  “Then why did you?” he grunted. Curled in a ball, hands on the wound, blood seeped past his fingers at a surprising rate.

  “Because you’re not doing your job.” She pushed his arm out of the way, latched onto his belt, undid it, then ripped it from his belt loops in one strong tug.

  “What?” he said, teeth tight together, face already blanched.

  “You’re supposed to be out finding the guy blowing shit up. Instead,” she leaned in closer and smacked his face, “instead you’re out here trying to hurt little old me.”

  Waters groaned. Sarah smacked him in the face again, this time the other cheek, then wrapped the belt around his upper thigh and cinched it tight.

  “Why … you hitting me?” Waters asked, his jaw tight.

  “I’m pissed off. And I’m trying to get blood into your cheeks. You seem to have gone pale.”

  “I’ve been shot, for fuck’s sake!”

  Sarah backhanded him. Blood formed on the edge of his mouth.

  “Oh yeah,” she said, making an exaggerated attempt to look up and to the left as if she just remembered something. “You’re a bully.” She met his eyes. “You beat women. You helped Mason beat a woman. I know, it’s mostly your girlfriends and women you hire.” He spit at her. The effort was pathetic, the phlegm a paltry display of bravado. “That’s why you’re pissed off. Because I’m a woman and I’m,” she tightened her hand into a fist and drove it down onto his cheek, “hitting you.”

  Waters’ head bounced off the stones below his face. His eyes closed and his head rested downward at an odd angle.

  She checked for a pulse. It was firm, strong. Happy she hadn’t killed him, she rummaged through Waters’ pockets until she found his phone. After a moment, she had Calder’s name from the contacts. She quickly typed out a text that told him to get to Waters before he died. Two bullet wounds and a tourniquet—will need hospital attention. She sent the text, relieved Waters of his wallet and weapons, even grabbed the pepper spray from his belt and the car keys, then whistled to herself on the way down to his unmarked cruiser.

  She turned it on, aimed it south, and started out back toward Kelowna. In the cup holder, she found two water bottles, unopened.

  “Awww, Waters, it’s like you were expecting me.”

  She opened the first one and drank half in one go, then after a few breaths, drank the other half. She tossed the empty onto the passenger side floor as the golf course passed by, the same one she remembered from earlier.

  Two ambulances passed her going the other way moments later.

  Then Waters’ phone lit up. Call display said it was RCMP HQ. Sarah ignored the call. She opened the maps app and typed Vernon. Once her route was set, she hit start and listened to GPS as it guided her toward Vernon.

  She only hoped she wouldn’t be too late. When she was done in Vernon, would this mess be over? Somehow, she didn’t think so. The shit with Mason would need to be dealt with.

  The dash cam.

  She dialed Lee’s cell number from memory. He answered on the first ring.

  “Waters?” he snapped into the phone. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Don’t speak,” Sarah said.

  He gasped. Then said, “Go ahead.” There was a click. Like he’d turned it onto the speaker function.

  “It was a trap. To murder me.” Someone else gasped in the background. “To settle a score for Barry Ashford. Three officers involved. Mason, Waters, and Calder. As far as I can tell, Amparo was not aware.”

  “Sarah—”

  “Shut up,” she shouted. “How complicit are you, Lee? Look, don’t answer that. I’m on my way to take out the unsub, then I’m done here.” She cleared her throat. “You want proof? Mason’s dash cam. He recorded the whole thing. When watching it back, remember one thing. My hands were empty.”

  She ended the call. It didn’t ring again.

  “Now, Vivian, since we have some time to ourselves, you want to tell me where I’m going?”

  Nothing.

  “Vivian? I need to know which grocery store and why?”

  It was as if Vivian wasn’t there. Sarah couldn’t feel even a spark of Vivian’s presence.

  Sarah drove on in silence. Up ahead, a man stood on the side of the road behind a car. His arms were moving. She was driving too fast. One second the man was there, then she was passing him—he watched her, gestured at her—then he was in the rearview mirror.

  It was the same man she’d seen outside Lee’s office window. The same man on the tarmac at the airport, and in the office window of the B.C. Medical Services building. He had a message for her and she wasn’t getting it.

  But most importantly, his presence blocked Vivian’s. How? And why didn’t Vivian know about him?

  Ten minutes later, as Sarah pushed the cruiser hard along the highway toward Vernon, her sister showed up.

  “Where have you been?” Sarah asked.

  I couldn’t find you. It became a futile exercise in patience. Where were you?

  “Someone’s playing games with us and they’re on your side of the field.”

  That’s impossible.

  “Afraid not.”

  Chapter 20

  Parkman lunged across Lee’s desk and snatched the cell phone, but Sarah was gone. He rolled off the desk and confronted Lee in his chair.

  “What the fuck was that?” Parkman snapped. “Your officers tried to kill her? Tell me how that is even possible.”

  Lee got up from his chair, but found it difficult as Parkman continued to crowd him.

  “Look, Parkman, you know me. I called you and Sarah here because I have a problem. I thought she could help—”

  “You have a problem, all right. A pissed-off Sarah is a huge problem.”

  Lee pushed his chair out of the way with the backs of his knees.

  “I know how upset you are,” Lee said.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “But Parkman, you have to let me get to the bottom of this. I will figure out what went down and those officers will pay for what they did.”

  “Knowing Sarah, they’re already paying.”

  Lee’s phone rang in Parkman’s hand. He checked the screen.

  Officer Calder.

  “Here,” Parkman handed over Lee’s phone. “Play it cool. As far as you know, we’re patiently waiting for Sarah down here at the office.”

  Lee nodded. Parkman was grateful for the nod. It meant they were still on the same page.

  “Lee here,” Lee said as he placed the call on speaker phone.

  A good play by him.

  Calder’s voice came through raspy, like he was out of breath. “We need a BOLO out on Sarah.”

  “A BOLO?” Lee asked, feigning surprise. “Isn’t she with you guys? Where are you, by the way? You’re supposed to be here by now.”

  “She got the drop on us.”

  “The drop? What are you talking about?”

  “She told Mason something about a dead body up off Myra Canyon Road. He took her up there and she pulled a gun on him. Broke Mason’s arm, then busted his nose to shit.” Calder talked so fast, Parkman leaned in closer to catch it all. “Then she shot Waters in the leg and the foot and stole his cruiser.”

  “Sarah shot a cop and stole his cruiser?” Lee asked. He mouthed the words, holy shit.

  “She’s insane, sir. Put out a BOLO for Waters’ cruiser. We have to get her off the street. I’ve called for a pair of ambulances. They’re on their way.”

  “Okay, Calder. Stay with your men. We’ll deal with this.”

  Lee hung up and glanced at Parkman. “She really messed those guys up. This is going to have a ripple effect that’ll ruin careers.”

  Parkman allowed a grin to crease his lips. “This situation is fucked, but I have to admit, I do feel a little better.”

  “She doesn’t get off scot free, Parkman. We have to watch Mason’s dash cam. There’ll be an investigation.”

&n
bsp; “I’m well aware of that. But for now, Sarah’s doing what she came here to do. She’s going after the unsub. If you could just keep your guys out of her way for a while, maybe she could stop this terrorist asshole.”

  Lee started for the door.