Catch a Shadow

by Potter, Patricia;

“No,” he said. “I’m just not used to—”

  “Where do you want us?” Cole interrupted.

  “Can you meet us out in the park in, say, two hours?”

  “We can and will.”

  “At the concession stand,” he added. His voice was a little rough. There was a lump in it. Three months ago, three weeks ago, he didn’t think anyone gave a damn about him. He’d told himself he didn’t care, that a man was far better off to rely only on himself. One wasn’t disappointed then.

  It was hard to admit he was wrong. Had been wrong.

  If only Dallas appeared now. Maybe then the mystery of the numbers would be solved. Maybe he would know everything that happened that day in the jungle.

  Maybe he would even have his name back. His life back. The one sorrow would be that his father would never know it.

  Or was he leading his makeshift team into another ambush?

  CHAPTER 29

  Two hours. They had two hours to wait.

  The number of people in the park had thinned out. Friday afternoon, Kirke thought. Mothers taking their kids home for supper. And in a few hours? She recalled the softball fields. Were games scheduled tonight?

  “Can we get some pepper spray?” she asked.

  “You have a gun,” Jake replied. “Better than pepper spray.”

  “It’s a park,” she said. “There are kids.” She was having second thoughts about Dallas’s suggestion. But the woman must have had a reason. She kept remembering what Jake had said about her. Tough as nails. She would have to be, to control a bar full of testosterone.

  He didn’t argue. “We should be able to get several small canisters at a gun shop.”

  “A florist, too.”

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her, and she didn’t feel like enlightening him. Not yet.

  In the meantime, she had to do something. She’d never been good at waiting. She was scared on so many levels, terrified on some. What if Dallas didn’t show up? What if she did but didn’t have what Jake needed to clear himself? What would happen to him then? And what if they had led Adams to Dallas? And ultimately to themselves?

  But maybe what she feared most of all was losing Jake once this was over. To either prison or to the life he was meant to have. She wouldn’t even think of the third alternative. That Adams would win.

  And if Jake found what he needed to clear himself, he would be free to get on with his life. Back to his career. Back to the army. The sun would disappear. The warmth would leave her.

  She could return home, the only real home she’d ever known.

  To her job. To Merlin.

  It should be enough. She should be giddy with anticipation.

  She dreaded the very thought.

  How could someone make such an impact on a life in such few days? She’d never believed in love at first sight, or second, or third. That’s what happened to her mother, and it lasted three seconds, or as long as it took Kirke to be born.

  She’d come to believe time, friendship, and like interests would ensure a happy marriage. She’d been wrong about that, too.

  She stole a look at him, saw the worry lines around his eyes as they drove out of the park.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To a bank where I can cash out the credit cards,” he said. “I want you to have some cash. If anything goes wrong, get the hell out of there and call your friend Robin. Don’t try to help. You’ll just be in the way. I’ll be more concerned with protecting you than anything else. That’s dangerous for all of us.”

  She froze. “You think it might be a trap?”

  “I don’t know what to expect,” he said, “but I want your promise. No promise, we don’t go.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I know how you feel about promises.”

  “You think Adams has found Dallas?”

  “I think he’s close.”

  “How many people do you think he has with him?”

  “Enough to do what he wants to do.”

  She was silent.

  He glanced at her. “We have our backup, too. Cole and Mac will be at the park. I still want your promise, though. At the first hint of trouble, you take off. Otherwise we don’t go tonight.”

  She nodded.

  “Say it!

  “I promise.” She crossed her fingers at her side.

  She concentrated instead on the cars around them. Adams seemed to prefer dark sedans. To match his soul, no doubt. Denton had a population of more than a hundred thousand people, and the chance of glimpsing a bad guy was nonexistent. Still, she hoped to see the bad guys before they saw her.

  Ames flipped open the cell phone on the second ring. “What do you have?”

  “An address,” his employee said. “You were right. Found the bank. It’s in a suburban area. I asked around at restaurants, telling them about the sick sister. A waitress remembered her. She found a credit card slip. Jeffers was able to find the card holder.

  “Good,” Ames said.

  “You want us to take her?”

  “No. I want her to lead us to Kelly. I want several people on her. I do not want her to know she’s being followed.”

  He hung up. The phone rang again.

  “I found your woman,” said the voice on the other end. “I was able to get into survivor records. Her married name is Crew. Her husband is Dennis Crew. He’s a cop.”

  Another goddamn complication. One he didn’t need.

  He knew what happened if a cop’s wife was killed. Just like when a Special Forces mate was killed. They didn’t stop coming after you.

  It didn’t matter now. The woman obviously knew something, or Kelly wouldn’t be here. He had to eliminate all three of them. That was the only way the trail to him would be erased.

  “Ames?” the guy on the line said. “Get out of the country while you can. People are asking questions now.”

  “Who?”

  “A reporter in Atlanta, for one. It’s not contained.”

  Ames swore to himself. His contact was shaky. That was very bad news. Scared people made mistakes. Maybe it was time to eliminate him as well.

  “I’ll be gone in the morning,” he lied.

  Jake stopped at a bank first. They both went inside while he cashed out the prepaid credit cards. He used his David Cable identification to do so, and when they reached the car, he gave Kirke $3,000 in fifties and hundreds.

  He watched as she carefully distributed it in several pockets of her purse. He was reminded that he should have done this in the beginning. She’d been little more than a prisoner without resources of her own. But he’d been so focused on his own objective.

  He’d treated her dismally. He had drawn her into a web of danger, then taken advantage when she was vulnerable. He had convinced her that her life depended on him, when she might well be safer in the hands of the FBI or, better yet, in some faraway place.

  He cursed himself. He’d lost any niceties he’d learned as an officer and gentleman at West Point. A combination of years in Afghanistan and other hot spots followed by seven years in prison had made him mistrustful, wary, and bitter. Not especially qualities any woman would want in a man.

  He turned his attention to finding a gun shop. He accompanied her inside one, and they found both Mace and pepper spray. He chose several canisters of pepper spray, and the clerk instructed Kirke on how to use it most effectively. She gave one cannister to him and put the other in her purse.

  He accepted it, knowing he would never use it. He preferred a more lethal type of defense. Especially for someone like Adams.

  “Now the flower shop,” she said.

  He’d seen one earlier. He didn’t question her reasons for stopping but stayed in the car while she ran in. She reappeared a moment later with a corsage in hand. Carnations. Two of them. The type you buy for a prom date or Mother’s Day or for some award ceremony. She plopped it down on the seat beside them as he drove away.

  She offered no explanation about the corsage. Some femini
ne whim. Except that wasn’t like her.

  Finally he had to ask. “What’s with the corsage?”

  “You’ve never pinned one on a girl?”

  “No.” He’d usually been on the move as a kid. He’d been in Japan his junior and senior year. There had been no proms in the traditional sense.

  “It comes with a very big pin,” she said. “I could probably have talked her into giving me just a pin, but that would take explanations and—”

  “A weapon,” he said flatly. “A pin?”

  She sat taller. An indignant—and stubborn—expression crossed her face. “I took a self-defense class. They said it could be very handy.”

  “Where do you keep it?”

  “A place that provides the least chance to get stuck.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at that. “I hate to tell you, but it wouldn’t deflect a determined mercenary.”

  “You never know.”

  “You already have pepper spray and a gun.”

  “And now I have pepper spray, a gun, and a pin.”

  Dammit, she made him smile. Her combination of determination, guts, and naïveté continued to astonish him. At the same time, his earlier reservations about her willingness to actually shoot returned. She wouldn’t. He had to recognize that.

  He drove back toward the park. They had an hour before the meeting.

  He saw Mac immediately. He was sitting on a picnic table not far from the softball field. He looked relaxed, with a paper plate of French fries in front of him.

  Someone parked next to him. He stiffened as the occupants got out and started toward a softball field. Three of them wore baseball shirts with the words Police printed across the back. Two more people left a car on the other side of him and walked toward the field. Their shirts proclaimed them firefighters.

  It didn’t take a genius to realize a game between the police and fire departments was about to begin. Great.

  Now he knew why Dallas had designated this place. She couldn’t have picked a safer one.

  But it was dangerous as hell for him. Every moment he stood there placed him in more peril.

  He turned toward Kirke and saw the question in her eyes.

  He nodded. They had little choice. If Kirke didn’t show for Dallas, no telling how long it would take to find her again.

  “I don’t want you involved in this,” Jake said. “You’re helping a fugitive,” he said. “That could mean prison time. Stay in the car. I’ll meet her. Drive away if you see anyone approaching.”

  “There’s no way I could possibly know you’re a fugitive,” she said, “and she won’t recognize you.”

  “But now I can identify her,” he countered.

  “She’s looking for a woman. You approach her with that scowl, and she’ll likely scream for help. And she won’t have to scream very loud.”

  He still looked dubious.

  “I’ll be be safe with cops all over the place. I have the gun with me. I have my pepper spray.”

  “And a pin,” he added with just a little sarcasm.

  “Besides, won’t these police types scare off the bad guys, even if they did find out about Dallas and the meeting?”

  Jake wasn’t certain. Adams must be as desperate as he was.

  The decision was taken from him as Kirke stepped out of the car. For the second time in his life, he was completely trapped. If he wanted what could save the rest of his life, he had to let her go. If he tried to stop her, they would be far too conspicuous.

  He placed the baseball cap on his head and donned the dark glasses. Then he took the pistol and belt holster from the glove compartment and snapped it to his belt. After pulling out his shirt to cover it, he stepped out of the car. Doubly damned if he was caught carrying. As a felon, a gun was a very big no-no.

  He headed toward the baseball field, passing the refreshment stand. Kirke stood there, munching on a hot dog, looking entirely at ease. Admiration flooded him. She had more damned guts than most men he knew.

  He walked to the fence where family and friends had dragged up chairs to watch the game. A small bleacher section was already full. Good-natured catcalls were being exchanged as the teams warmed up.

  He turned where he could watch the refreshment stand as well as see part of the field.

  One woman came up to him. “Fire or police?” she asked.

  “Fire,” he replied.

  “Good. Would you like to join us?”

  “Thanks, but I’m waiting for someone.”

  The woman nodded and returned to her group. He wondered whether she could be Dallas, but the features were different, along with the age.

  Then he saw a woman, man, and boy walk toward the field. The man wore the blue police uniform shirt. The boy held his hand.

  He recognized the woman’s features immediately. There was strength in her face and laugh lines around her eyes. Her hair was the color of rust and pulled back into a bun. Her skin was tanned against a sleeveless pink blouse and cream-colored slacks. She wore only a touch of lipstick and a simple turquoise pendant. He had the impression of a woman comfortable with herself. When they reached the fence, someone called to her, and she headed that way with the boy while the man headed toward the field.

  She joined a group, sitting on one of several chairs already placed alongside the fence.

  She glanced at her watch, then quickly at the refreshment stand. She whispered something to the boy, then stood.

  The game started. The crowd came to their feet as the first pitch was thrown. Jake turned so he could watch the woman as well as appear interested in the game. Mac and Cole were watching Kirke.

  He felt a jolt at his side, and turned, his hand instinctively going toward the holster.

  Someone had bumped into him while moving a chair closer to the fence. He quickly dropped his hand.

  “Sorry,” the man said.

  He wore a patrolman’s uniform.

  “No problem,” Jake said and stepped away.

  “You got someone playing?”

  “No, just like baseball.”

  He looked back to where the woman he thought to be Dallas was standing.

  She was gone.

  He whirled around to look at the refreshment stand.

  Kirke was gone as well.

  CHAPTER 30

  Kirke ate a hot dog and drank a soda, then ordered an ice cream.

  People were still walking toward the field. She looked at her watch. Five to seven. The game was probably at seven.

  She took her time licking the ice cream. Her stomach was rumbling, but she obviously needed to have a reason for loitering. She tightened her hold on her purse. She unzipped it so both the pepper spray and automatic were instantly available.

  She knew, though, she wouldn’t fire the gun. Too many people. Too many children. Nerves started crawling up her back.

  A roar came from the baseball field as a woman in a pretty coral blouse touched her. “Come with me,” the woman said.

  Kirke followed her around the refreshment stand toward the restroom building. They went under a little roof and turned right into the women’s room. The men’s room was opposite.

  Dallas checked the stalls, found them empty, then turned to her.

  “I’m Dallas Crew,” the woman said.

  “I’m Kirke.”

  “I know. I found your photo on the Internet. The story about the sniper. I also called the fire station. They like you there.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That I was a friend, but you weren’t answering calls, and I was worried about you. They told me you were taking a few days off to recuperate.” She raised an eyebrow as she studied Kirke. Powder disguised the remaining bruising around her eye, but Kirke knew it was still visible to someone with a good eye. “Doesn’t look as if you’re recuperating much,” Dallas added.

  “A South Pacific beach would be better,” Kirke said wryly. “Thank you for coming.” She paused, then asked, “Why here?”


  “My husband’s a cop. He’s playing tonight. You startled me today. I didn’t know what to expect, but you sounded so urgent. Then you said the right words on the phone … or maybe the wrong ones: Del Cox.”

  “You knew him then? As Del Cox?”

  “I know it was one of the names he used. I saw the identification in his wallet when he got sloppy drunk once. I took money from his wallet to pay for a taxi, and an ID dropped out. I also knew him as Dave Lewis, which I think is his real name. I knew he was CIA, though he never said as much. Having been married to one, I recognized all the signs.

  “You were close?”

  “For a time after my husband’s death. What happened to him? And why am I in danger?”

  Kirke told her what she knew as quickly as she could. When she finished chronicling the events, she said, “We have these numbers and have no idea what they mean. Since he mentioned your name, we thought you may. You’re our last chance.”

  “What is the name of the man you say was accused?” Dallas asked.

  “His name is Jake Kelly, but his cover name was Mitch Edwards,” Kirke said. Lying wouldn’t help now. Dallas had obviously asked the question for a specific reason, and Kirke knew she was right when emotion flickered across her face.

  Dallas nodded. “I might have something that can help.”

  Kirke waited.

  “It’s at my house. I can leave in about twenty minutes. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Can I bring Jake?”

  Another hesitation, then a nod.

  “What about your husband?”

  “He’s out there playing. They’ll be celebrating the outcome of the game, win or lose,” she said. “It’s a cop thing. And a friend is taking my son for a sleepover.”

  “Can you tell me anything now?”

  “I want to hear from your Mr. Kelly first,” she said. She sighed. “I’ll be opening a Pandora’s box. I want to be sure it’s worth it.”

  “We’ll follow you home,” Kirke said.

  She interrupted. “The tall, lean hunk out at the fence your guy? The one you want to help?”

  Your guy.

  Kirke didn’t know how to answer that. The area was full of cops. Dallas’s family was all cops.

  She finally nodded. Jake had known the chance he was taking and had been willing to do it. “He met you years ago at the Enigma when he was taking some training course. He remembers you. Said you stopped a fight.”