She paused halfway down the basement stairs. “Of course he’d keep a low profile. You chased him away.”
“I don’t have too many details yet, but I know that the Marshal’s Office has been at that motel, too. Someone from there has been feeding the Martino family information on Witness Protection women. And on you. Remember, Lucien Esposito wants to kill you.”
All business, she thought. No warm, comforting words expressing that he’d rather stay with her than go to Mexico with his brother. Nothing about the relationship they’d been building.
Still, he did call. And his words began to sink in. “What does all that mean now?”
“You should leave. Let me call Jackson—”
She finished walking down the stairs. “I’m fine here until the morning. Did Jackson tell you about the fair? He just called—”
She turned the corner toward the washer and dryer.
Then jumped. Two men stood beside the washer, one with his hands wrapped around a large gun.
One of the men looked very familiar.
She gasped.
It was Lucien Esposito.
NINETEEN
Automatically, she rammed the hamper into the men. A shot from the gun went wide as the weapon was knocked to the floor. The unarmed man grabbed the hamper and tossed it aside. Kristin spun, but was caught by the arm and whirled back around and slammed against the nearby wall. Her cell phone dropped to the floor and skittered out of reach.
She could feel the meat of Esposito’s fist skim past her nose on its way to the thick concrete wall of the basement. She slunk down until she hit the cold floor. Her hip fell onto the gun.
Esposito’s knuckles plowed into the concrete wall. The man cried out and pulled his bleeding hand in close to his chest. The other man tossed one of Kristin’s dirty towels to him, which Esposito grabbed and wrapped it around his knuckles.
Kristin knew she’d never make it past both men, but she had the advantage of being closest to the gun, and the appearance of being semiconscious.
“Where’s my gun?”
“I dunno, Lucien. It’s gotta be here somewhere.”
“Find it, or when I find it, I’ll use it on you!”
The man straightened and pulled on his friend’s arm. “Hey, get off my back, all right? You’re the one who called me.”
“Shut up! I need my gun.”
“You shouldn’t have stayed here all night. You were bound to get caught.”
“I said, shut up!”
“We should go. Your hand needs looking after—”
“No! I want this woman dead! I want Vincent Martino to know who he can count on. You want to make a bit more money, too, don’t you?”
“Sure, but I can take care of this woman. No one knows me here.”
“Forget it! I want to kill her myself!”
“You should hand her over to Vincent. He’ll thank you good for that.”
Kristin dared to open her eyes. Lucien Esposito loomed over her, his expression dark and furious. He was wiping the blood from his knuckles. She could still feel the throb from where they skimmed her cheek.
She didn’t know the other man, but it was obvious that he had been promised some things if Lucien was promoted.
“I want my gun, moron. Now!”
The man scrambled to his task, throwing Kristin’s scattered laundry about in his haste to find the weapon. Esposito stood nearby, cradling his towel-wrapped hand.
The other thug circled past her again to toss aside a large box. In it were the effects from her parents’ car. She’d dried it all out, then set it all into a box, out of sight.
Everything her parents had taken that fateful day skittered across the basement floor.
Straightening up, the thug said, “I can’t find it.”
They both turned to her. She half lay there, pretending to be unconscious, pretending not to hear and understand what was being said.
Esposito stepped menacingly closer. “Get up!”
Kristin opened her eyes to face that horribly evil man. She tried to mouth a prayer, but nothing vocal came. At a loss, she began to think the twenty-third psalm.
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.
Esposito flung away the bloodied towel, and grabbed the front of her shirt. He fisted his bleeding hand, swung back and twisted his mouth into something thin and ugly.
Then a blur of dark colors flew down the stairs. The two men spun at the last second, not enough time to react.
It was Zane! Both men landed in a heap on the dirty clothes and her parents’ effects. Zane straddled Esposito, hitting the man with some kind of downward thrust that rendered the man immediately unconscious.
Kristin skidded away from the other man, who had paused long enough to allow her such a movement. Her hip hurt from the hard gun beneath her, but she gritted her teeth against the pain as she dragged it with her.
Zane leaped to his feet, but not before the other man shoved him away. Then the thug galloped up the stairs, twisting only once to kick at Zane.
He missed. Zane easily deflected the kick, and was about to gallop up the stairs, but Esposito staggered to his feet and swung around to face Kristin.
Reacting, Zane tackled him again. Kristin knew he’d made a choice between protecting her and going after that other man.
Relief washed through her like cold water at the choice he’d made. Then she felt her head hit the floor.
“Kristin? Kristin, open your eyes.”
She blinked open her eyes to find Zane peering down at her. She was lying on the basement floor. The gun Esposito had aimed at her still dug into her hip.
She brought those around her into focus. Zane, Bobby, even Jackson. “Lucien Esposito was here! With some other guy! Did you catch them?”
Zane shook his head. “No. Bobby chased them, but lost them somewhere in the neighborhood. Jackson has his task force searching.” He looked relieved and worried at the same time. “You didn’t hang up your cell phone, and I could hear everything.”
Jackson appeared beside Zane. She sat up, wincing at the pain. Zane stilled her. “You’ve been out for a few minutes. How do you feel?”
“A bit achy, but I will probably feel worse tomorrow.” She touched her cheek. “Do I have a bruise?”
“Not yet.”
She rolled over and lifted up the gun. “Esposito dropped this. Then I fell on it.”
Jackson took it. “How did they get in?”
“Lucien has been in here all this time.”
Zane cleared his throat. “He had the code. Lucien must have slipped back in through the basement door after he fled into the woods yesterday. The only time you said your code aloud was to Jackson. He’s been hiding in the furnace room down here.”
She sagged against the cold wall.
“I should have locked that door as soon as that guy took off,” Zane growled.
Jackson moved away to flip out his cell phone. Kristin could hear him call Micah, his brother who she’d been taken to by another Marshal when she went to Billings to ask about her mother. They must be sharing information.
She turned to Zane, but turned her head away quickly. There were words she ached to say to him, but she held them back. Instead, she focused on brushing herself off.
Zane led her to one of the spare dining-room chairs that were stored down here. “Kristin, what’s going on? You practically shoved me out the door today, and now you don’t want to talk to me? Let’s face it, you didn’t want to answer when I called your cell phone. It rang too many times.”
She glanced around the basement. Jackson was busy on the phone. When he caught the two staring at him, he walked upstairs.
Once alone, Zane focused on Kristin, making her squirm nervously. “Kristin, why didn’t you want to answer my call?”
“What was there to say? You had promised to find my mother, even though I told you not to, and you’d already found your brother, so what else did we need to discuss?”
He
gaped at her. “What do you mean, what else? What about us? About the way you’re treating me?”
“Are you going to Mexico with Bobby?”
He straightened. Then, dragged his hands down his face. With a sigh, he pulled up another chair and sat beside her. In the quiet of the room, they could hear Jackson and his colleagues talking upstairs.
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”
Her heart pounding, she stared at her hands. She didn’t want to be dumped in her basement. Hadn’t she gone through enough today? Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?
Lord Jesus, help me accept what’s about to happen.
Zane took her hand. “Kristin, look at me.”
She lifted her head, but he swam in a wash of tears. Wordlessly, he pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, not liking the silence all of a sudden. “Crying is so stupid, and yet, I keep doing it!”
“It’s all right. I understand. More than you know.”
She didn’t answer.
“Kristin, wipe your tears, and listen to me.”
“No, Zane. I don’t want you to say anything. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, and I’m happy for you that you’ve found your brother, but it’s time to move on. For both of us.”
“And your mother? What about her?”
Kristin shrugged. “Jackson has an idea on where to check for her. I trust him to find her and apprehend Martino and his men before anything else happens. I don’t want you involved. You’re the one who has found your family.”
“And I want you to share in it.”
“I don’t want to be the third wheel.”
“You won’t be. You’re special to me. You helped me let go of my anger toward God.”
She searched his face. That was it? Nothing more?
Why should there be? He knew she’d guessed she was being dumped and was only letting her down gently here.
Because so much was happening to her. But she could handle this. Lifting her chin, she tried to stay businesslike, “Jackson called me earlier to tell me about the fair that he believes my mother may visit. There’s a big money prize in the baked goods contest, and he has a good feeling about this one. I have to go with him.”
“I don’t imagine any of us will be able to stop you. You realize that I’m going with you, too, don’t you?”
Before she could answer, Jackson trotted down the basement stairs. His expression was grim.
“We’ve ordered a canine unit in to follow the blood trail Esposito has left. The Marshal’s Office is on the way, too.”
Kristin caught the short, furtive look that Zane and Jackson exchanged. “Is that wise?” she asked. “Someone there is leaking info on me.” There was lingering in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t pull it out.
Jackson cocked his head. “Which means it’s time we turned the tables.”
She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “You’re going to leak out that we’re going to the fair?”
“Yes. I’ll brief you tonight on it. If the Martino family learns of it, we have to be ready for them.” Jackson turned to head back up the stairs. But Zane’s frown deepened when Jackson shot one last knowing look at him.
“It’s called ‘The Heart of the Mountain’ Fair, at Mountain Springs,” Jackson said that evening after the police had left and the dust had settled. He’d brought with him an attractive young woman named Thea. Jackson introduced her as his computer expert who just happened to be able to run faster than him. Kristin studied the young woman, recognizing her from the rest stop near Lindbergh Lake. She’d thought that they seemed a bit out of place in this rugged backcountry.
“You work for Jackson?” she asked Thea.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Thea smiled at all of them. “Is there something wrong?”
“No. I saw you at that rest stop near Lindbergh Lake. You came in with two men. Were you headed up to Westbrook?”
“We were in the area when Jackson called us,” she answered guardedly.
Kristin peeked over the table at Zane, catching the look on his brother Bobby’s face. He was staring at Thea with fascination.
But the beautiful FBI agent was all business.
“We’re still waiting on the layout of the fair,” she added to Jackson’s comment as they all sat down around the dining-room table. Kristin had ordered in pizza and the smell of it and those cinnamon fingers that came with the order made her mouth water. She set them as far as possible from her.
“We haven’t been able to confirm who’s entered what competitions yet, either, but I expect we’ll know by later tonight.”
“They may not know everyone because some enter the contests at the last minute,” Bobby warned, reaching for a piece of pizza, “and some drop out if their baking doesn’t turn out well. The lists aren’t accurate, except for the juried art show. They need to have the artwork up and judged the day before. The baking is done the first day of the fair.”
Zane frowned at his brother. “How do you know this?”
“I’ve entered it a few times.” He smiled at Thea. “In fact, I may be able to help you here. The baked goods competition allows for last-minute entries. They discovered that they get more entrants that way.”
“How many times have you been to this fair?” Jackson asked.
“Four or five times. I entered one of my paintings last year, and won second place in the mixed media. Plus one year, I tried my hand at the bread contest, but couldn’t compete with some of these longtime bakers.
“But I know the fairgrounds pretty well. If we’re looking for a good baker, then I say you check out the open competition instead of the pie baking one.”
“Why?” Jackson checked his paperwork. “The pie division has a higher prize.”
“Not really. The open competition has a dessert division where the winner receives a pretty good-size award, and it automatically becomes eligible to be judged in the best in the show category, whereas the pie division isn’t considered for that. And the winner of the best in show then receives an extra thousand dollars.”
Kristin looked to Jackson, who looked at Thea. She was already in the process of flipping open her laptop. Still ignoring Bobby’s silly grin, she quickly searched her files. “He’s right. And with the open competition, they say that you can enter the contest right up until an hour before judging.”
“Which could mean,” Kristin said, hating how her hopes were rising. She’d told herself not to get caught up in this. “That my mother would have a bit more anonymity. No one would know she was there until she entered the competition.”
Her heart seemed lodged in her throat, and she had to swallow the last of the iced tea to relieve the anticipation. Finally, unable to control her swelling hopes, she rose and grabbed the empty pitcher to refill it.
Zane followed her into the kitchen and watched her dig out the iced tea from the refrigerator. “It’s okay to feel optimistic,” he said quietly as the other three discussed the new revelation. “This is all falling into place. Just have a bit of faith, okay?”
She nodded. Then, placing the full pitcher down on the counter, she said, “It’s just that the way things are working out, it’s all so amazing. We found your brother, and he’s turning out to be a godsend to us. Who’d have thought?” Her voice cracked. “My faith is secure, but I’m afraid that God will answer with a no.”
Zane pulled her into a tight embrace, just as Jackson’s cell phone rang. Kristin could hear him answering it, but clung to Zane without listening to the older man’s soft words. This was her moment with Zane. She rested her head against his shirt and prayed that what they were doing was God’s will, and that He didn’t have something else planned.
She forced optimism into her thoughts. Tomorrow she might finally meet her mother. And with Zane and Jackson, they’d both be safe. What could possibly go wrong?
Jackson walked into the kitchen. He said nothing for a mom
ent, instead letting his frown deepen. Clearing her throat, Kristin peeled herself away from Zane.
“That was my office. Salvatore died early this afternoon.”
“Oh.”
“He died in hospital, asking for his son. The capos pulling a vigil at his bedside are said to be very furious.”
“At what?”
“At not being able to kill Eloise earlier. And you, too.”
“That’s good for my mother, and for me, isn’t it? I mean if they wanted to pay tribute to him by killing my mother, then it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”
Jackson shook his head. “The opposite, I’m afraid. Vincent Martino will be even more determined to get your mother now. This has moved from a tribute killing to a revenge killing.”
“My mother didn’t hurt Salvatore.”
“No, but his health failed after he was incarcerated, which was Eloise’s fault. Vincent will blame Eloise for that.”
His expression turned even grimmer. “And revenge makes a person a whole lot more determined.”
TWENTY
The fair smelled delicious. Kristin’s parents had hated the cloying scent of cotton candy and fried food, but she’d always loved the whole ambience.
Today, though, her stomach stayed in a knot, tightening progressively as the minutes ticked by. She was scared. Scared for her mother, for those who may be hurt by the Martino family.
Last night, Bobby had hunkered down with Jackson and Thea, partly because the sultry woman had besotted him without even knowing it, and by the time they were done, all of them were well acquainted with the fair’s layout, the Martino family’s habits and Martino’s many photographs.
Kristin wanted to head straight for the baked goods tent, but Zane held her back.
“We don’t want to call attention to ourselves,” he whispered. “No one is headed there yet.”
“Okay, but it’s hard.” Kristin flicked the brim of her ball cap. She’d shoved her hair through the back hole and tied it up into a messy ponytail. With the dark glasses hiding the bruise Esposito had inflicted, and the bulky drab sweatshirt, she felt like a completely different person.
Fatal Secrets Page 17
