A Dangerous Game

by Heather Graham

  As Mike pulled out from the cabin’s trail and onto the bumpy main road, Craig saw lights again. For some reason, he was pretty sure that a car had doubled back.

  He wished he was the one driving. He honestly liked and admired his partner tremendously, but maybe it was an unavoidable male-DNA thing. He thought he was a better driver.

  He was also on edge, and wanted to be in control.

  Was someone out here looking to kill these little innocents? A real message to anyone who stood against the gang and its plans?

  He unobtrusively drew his gun from the holster at the back of his waistband.

  The kids hadn’t noticed. The bigger ones were singing “The Wheels on the Bus” softly to the smallest one.

  But Lily knew. He could see it in her eyes when he glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

  “I’m moving, not to worry,” Mike assured them.

  “Yep, thanks.”

  And Mike did motor.

  He drove so fast and fluidly that Craig thought he’d been paranoid at first; they made it back to the highway without anyone sticking to them like glue or appearing constantly in the rearview mirrors.

  He had just begun to relax when he noted a dark SUV keeping pace.

  Craig realized that his phone was ringing.

  Kieran! They needed to keep in touch. If she was calling...

  He went to answer his phone.

  Too late; it had stopped.

  But Mike’s phone was ringing now. Mike picked up.

  Craig barely heard him speaking; he was watching the SUV running close behind them. Then it pulled up around them on Craig’s side of the car.

  When he looked out the window, he saw that something was leaning past the driver.

  Taking aim with a pistol at his face.

  * * *

  Alyssa had closed her eyes, but she hadn’t passed out. She opened her eyes and reached for Kieran, catching her arm.

  “Please, please, watch over the baby...please. Don’t leave him. Don’t leave him until I can take him.”

  “It’s okay, help is coming,” Kieran promised.

  Alyssa blinked, holding her side.

  “Alyssa, an ambulance is coming,” Kieran assured her.

  “Thank you. I have to talk. Have to tell you...in case. They’ve been watching me!” she said. “Since that girl, Yulia, came to me... She was so afraid, and so pregnant. She came up to me out of the office, and we’d spoken for hardly any time when she suddenly ran. And I tried to find out more about her. I had inquiries out there... I looked for her...and I think the wrong people might have seen me or overheard me, or found out somehow that I was trying to get involved and help her and her baby.”

  “If you can, tell us what happened,” Harding said.

  Kieran looked up. Officer Harding was hunkering down. He knew something about emergency medicine; he’d taken a dishcloth and wadded it. He warned her as he pressed it to her, “This will hurt. But, you can’t keep bleeding.”

  “Knife wound...side...” Alyssa said.

  The little boy wriggled in Kieran’s arms. She was holding him too closely, she realized. He pushed against her, fighting her hold, wanting his mother.

  “Your mommy’s there, right there, right with us!” Kieran said, standing the little boy up beside her. “Mommy’s there. Mommy is fine!” she said.

  She was a liar. But it was a lie the boy needed at that moment. And she prayed that Alyssa Ryan would be fine once help came, once she had time to heal.

  “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Alyssa said. She managed to get a hand up again, to run it over her toddler’s head.

  Tears suddenly filled her eyes. “I should have come forward before. When Esperanza spoke to me... I knew I had to talk to someone. I was trying to find Yulia, figure out what was going on, but...I should have gone to the police, really pushed it, made someone do something.”

  And that was all; the EMTs arrived. Kieran wanted to ride in the ambulance, but Alyssa was nearly hysterical, insisting that Kieran look after her son. Kieran would follow the ambulance with Abel Harding and June Chopra so that she could hold onto the boy, whose name was Jerome.

  Sirens sounded loud and blaring in the street with Harding driving and staying tight on the ambulance. Naturally by then, Jerome was crying, and Kieran was racking her mind for any nursery rhymes or anything else she could possibly say or sing that might help.

  As it happened, June Chopra reached into her purse and produced a toy to hand to the toddler.

  “Thomas the Train,” June explained. “Hey, I’ve got a two-year-old nephew,” she said.

  It worked; Jerome was happy with the train. There was a song about Thomas that June knew and Jerome knew, and soon, the sound of all of them singing or humming joined with the wail of the sirens.

  When they reached the hospital, Kieran realized they were right back where they had been.

  As soon as they arrived, Alyssa was rushed in for care. There was nothing to do but wait. And in the waiting room, Kieran suddenly grew anxious.

  She still hadn’t spoken with Craig.

  She dialed his number.

  There was no answer.

  She dialed Mike. And, after a second, he picked up.

  “Kieran!” he said. “Hey, yeah, busy night, but going well—ah, never mind! Got to call you back!”

  She heard gunshots.

  And then...

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Craig—with his Glock already in his hand—had the jump on the other guy.

  The other guy was trying to aim.

  Craig just fired out his open window.

  The SUV went veering off the highway and onto the embankment.

  In the back seat, Lily and the girls screamed. Mike dropped his phone to his lap and gripped the wheel as their sedan careened with the impetus.

  “Get down!” Craig ordered Lily and her daughters.

  They instantly obeyed.

  He had hit the driver of the SUV, Craig was certain.

  But that didn’t mean that he’d killed him.

  A second later, he knew he hadn’t as he saw that the SUV was back on the asphalt, maybe five car lengths behind them.

  Mike was on the radio, reporting what was happening in a flat, steady voice.

  It was one hell of a fast SUV.

  But it was never best to be in back—even with a high-powered rifle. Someone shot again, but while the rear windshield of the sedan gave off a crackling sound, it didn’t shatter. The sedan was, thankfully, equipped with bulletproof glass. But it had limits. A few more high-velocity bullets, and it would give out.

  Craig turned and took aim out his window at the SUV’s tires.

  His first shot failed.

  The SUV was just a few car lengths behind them now.

  He shot again.

  Missed!

  He prayed he didn’t cause an accident involving bystanders, but then again, if this guy managed to kill him and Mike, their sedan would soar over the highway and cause just as much potentially lethal danger.

  Now, the SUV was almost on top of them again.

  He fired again.

  He caught a tire. The SUV began to veer off the road...and then it flipped and flipped and flipped and careened down the embankment.

  Mike muttered an expletive.

  Craig was pretty sure he did, too. Yeah, there were kids in the car. At least they were alive.

  The dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio; troopers would be at the scene of the accident within minutes. In the interest of the lives of the passengers in the car, they were to proceed directly to the FBI offices. State police were on the way for an escort, as well.

  Mike asked Craig to dial Egan for him, then he took the phone. He rapidly filled Eg
an in, then fell silent, listening to what their director had to say.

  “We’re not going to make it!” Lily whispered from the back.

  Craig turned to look at her. “Yes we are.”

  Mike set down his cell. He turned to look at Craig and smiled. “Miss Lily!” he said, glancing quickly to the back. “Not only are we going to make it, but your husband has come out of the coma. They’re keeping him sedated, but by tomorrow morning, you’ll be able to see him. And he knows that you’re just fine!”

  Just fine...

  Craig noted a flash of red light and turned. They’d been joined by state police. A cruiser was at his side. A serious young officer lifted a hand to him in greeting.

  Craig returned the salute.

  “There’s one over here, too,” Mike said, indicating his window—and the state police vehicle on the driver’s side of the highway.

  Lily started to cry quietly.

  Craig looked at her. She looked back at him.

  Now, her eyes seemed enormous—with wonder instead of fear.

  She almost smiled.

  “Thank you!” she whispered.

  * * *

  Incredibly, Alyssa Ryan wasn’t critical. Her would-be assassin hadn’t caused fatal damage. She’d lost some blood, but no major vessels or organs had been breached in any significant way. While she had suffered a great deal of terror, she wasn’t fighting for her life. She was all stitched up; all she’d have was a nice scar.

  Kieran and her guardian officers had been at the hospital a few hours when they were informed they could see Alyssa.

  Director Egan had come to the hospital to check on Jimmy Baron, who was out of his coma, but still sedated against the pain of his condition. Egan had managed to be back almost the second the doctors finished with Alyssa and said that it was all right if she was questioned, but for no more than ten minutes. Just because the injury hadn’t been life-threatening didn’t mean that it couldn’t become life-threatening.

  Abel Harding stood outside the door. June Chopra came in, aware that she was excellent with Jerome and that he couldn’t crawl over his newly stitched-up mom as they spoke with her.

  Alyssa was ready to speak.

  “I’d say it was about two or three months ago now,” Alyssa said, looking from Egan to Kieran. “I had just left the office. And this lovely girl with sound English but a noted accent came running up to me. She started panting—and, of course, I saw that she was about pregnant enough to pop. She asked me about asylum—political asylum, religious asylum—any kind of asylum. I asked her to come see me in the office and assured her that I would do anything I could, but it was curious. She didn’t appear to be homeless or hurting. She seemed healthy—well, and as I said, ready to pop. Since I have Jerome...” She paused for a minute, looking across the room at her toddler, still playing with the train and Officer Chopra. “Well, I wanted to know how she was feeling, if the baby’s father was American, and, of course, I assured her that her child, born on American soil, was automatically an American citizen. I remember glancing at my watch, thinking I could take her for coffee before picking up Jerome. But she suddenly stood straight up and looked across the street. She went white—whiter than a sheet of new-fallen snow. And she turned and ran away from me, saying that she’d check in with me at the office. I found the prayer card she had dropped, and, at first, I waited. Of course, she never came back. I put out feelers for her, asking my coworkers if they’d seen her and asking around at various social agencies—and in a few Russian coffee houses. I checked at the local women’s shelters and several churches. Sadly, I’ve come to know some of the junkies on the streets, and I even asked them about her. About a week or so later, I thought I was being watched. That went on for a week or so, and then it seemed to stop, and then...” She paused and let out a long, soft sigh. “I stopped thinking about it, I guess. Then last Friday night, I heard about the woman who was stabbed in the back on the street. And in the office, Esperanza and I started talking... I felt that I needed to mention the young woman. I can’t even imagine what it might have been like for her if she was someone’s prisoner...if her baby was taken.” She paused again. “I know how I love my son!” she said in a whisper.

  “What happened? Who stabbed you? How did you get away?” Egan asked her softly.

  “I picked up Jerome at day care. We started home. I had this feeling I was being followed, and so I went down the street toward the avenue—they were having a fresh market thing, the street was closed... I wanted to stay in the crowds. I passed through a group of people, and then suddenly, I felt something in my side. I didn’t understand what at first. Then I heard a woman screaming that some guy had a bloody knife, and I remembered that the woman had been killed on Friday in broad daylight in the midst of thousands of other people. There was blood on me. I realized that I was the one who had been stabbed. I was going to scream for help, but there were so many people there. I didn’t know. I didn’t know who would help and who would hurt, and I had Jerome with me. I thought that if I could just reach my house, I could lock myself in and call for help and... I was afraid of everyone around me,” she ended in a whisper. “I was almost at my own door, I could get to my phone, call for help. I don’t think I was behaving rationally. I just... I thought I might get home and be safe. If I could just get home...” She fell quiet, and then she whispered, “I’m alive! That other woman...stabbed in the street...is dead.” She paused and looked from Kieran to Egan. “I’m so grateful!”

  “We’re grateful, too!” Kieran told her.

  “Thomas!” Jerome suddenly announced, escaping June’s playful care and rushing around to the side of his mother’s bed. He offered her a beautiful grin. “Thomas!” he said. He showed her the little toy train.

  Alyssa reached out for her son.

  “Be careful—you don’t want to pull out any stitches,” Officer Chopra warned, plucking up Jerome and setting him carefully on the bed by his mother.

  Alyssa began to cry again. “I’m so grateful!” she said, hugging her little boy. “And afraid. They can strike anywhere...you can’t stop them. They have so many people, and the people they have become their weapons.”

  “But we will stop them!”

  The announcement came from the doorway to the room. Kieran jumped up, spinning to see that Craig had arrived at the hospital. She let out a little cry of relief and leapt up, rushing over to throw herself into his arms, heedless of where they were or any kind of propriety.

  He held her, offered her a quick, concerned smile, and then looked over at Alyssa. “Mrs. Ryan, we can never thank you enough for attempting to be a good citizen and a truly decent human being. We will stop them all. Bit by bit. It’s unraveling, and we will get to the bottom of it all, I swear it.”

  * * *

  It was nearly three in the morning. While certain cases had them up around the clock at times, Craig knew that he was exhausted and that he wouldn’t be much good to anyone if he didn’t get sleep.

  He felt himself listing as he stood behind Kieran, his hands on her shoulders, as they both looked through the glass window at the burn unit where Jimmy Baron lay. He was sedated and in a deep sleep again, but his status was changing, and he’d soon be able to talk, really talk, to law enforcement.

  His wife was in with him. The doctors had told her it was best if the girls didn’t see Jimmy yet, and so they were at the safe house, being watched over by the United States Marshals office with NYPD and FBI personnel backing them up at all times.

  Craig had been able to speak with Hank LeBlanc—the girls were fine. Both Riley and Tanya seemed delighted to have young company.

  “A strange sleepover,” Hank told him. “I’m loving it. My partner now has nail polish on her in a dozen shades. Oh, wait. So do I. Anyway, every agency in the city is in on this—nothing is going to happen here.”

  After the call, Craig wondered wh
at was bothering him. And then he realized that it had been LeBlanc’s words: every agency in the city is in on this.

  Somewhere along the line, someone in the know had to be on the payroll of an organization other than the city, the state or the federal government.

  He’d discussed it with his director. Egan was certain that the upper echelon of each office or agency had been informed that they might be looking for someone within their own ranks. It was horrible. It did happen that those sworn to protect lives were ready to take them—or turn a blind eye to murders taking place at their feet.

  This operation had to be massive. There seemed to be a slug crawling out of every rock that was overturned. Someone was running it all from a pinnacle—gathering information, seeing that it went out. Someone known as the King, or the Queen, or an odd marriage that allowed for this massive kind of control, killers everywhere, ordered to murder—or die in the attempt.

  “If it weren’t so tragic, it would be beautiful,” Kieran said softly.

  He looked at her and she flashed him a glance before looking through the glass again. “Seriously. She’s just sitting there, holding his hand. She’ll keep doing so. And if what the doctors say is right, he will open his eyes again—he’ll look up, and she’ll be there!”

  “And he’ll split this whole thing wide open, I hope,” Craig said.

  Kieran made a face at him. “Okay, for a moment, I was thinking of the beauty of the human spirit and love and the pact between partners. And you...”

  “Sorry. I’m thinking of the beauty that will unfold once we catch these bastards,” he said, and grimaced.

  Kieran shrugged. “That, too,” she said.

  “Let’s go home.”

  She nodded. “Sounds good. My place? We’ve been staying there. We have more things there—both of us—right now.”

  “We should move into mine. I actually have the larger home, you know. Dare I say better or nicer home?”

  “Ah, well, you don’t live over a karaoke bar. No entertainment, you know. And didn’t we just talk about this?”