“No!” I blurted. I cursed myself internally, realizing I’d showed them how much Carly meant to me. “Look, I’ll get you the damn files,” I said. “But first, let her go.”
“You don’t have the files,” Luka said. Then he thrust Carly toward me. I grabbed her to keep her from falling.
“What are you doing?” Garner demanded, getting to his feet. “Don’t be an idiot, Luka, you can’t do anything at the house. I can’t have the police—”
And that’s when Carly pushed Garner, sending him into the gunman. During that split second when Garner was in the line of fire, I charged.
Barreling into both of them, I swept them backward, plunging all three of us into the pool.
Both men cursed as they fell. That curse was the last thing Luka ever said. He was struggling to bring his gun around when I drove a fist into his diaphragm. The stiff punch forced the last burst of air from his body.
He gasped, filling his lungs with water. I grabbed his collar, holding his head down in the pool. He struggled for a moment, firing his gun—once, twice—but only in sheer reflex as his life thrashed away.
Finally, he took a final gasp.
I pushed him away from me. His body drifted slowly down to the bottom of the pool, still clutching the gun in his fist. I swam down to get it and kicked back up to the surface of the water.
At the far end of the pool, Carly was keeping Garner at bay with a skim net, smashing his fingers whenever he tried to climb out. I hauled him out, hacking and choking. Then I drew back my fist—
“Don’t do it,” Carly said.
“Why the hell not?”
“You can’t beat him, Brian. It’ll complicate things with the police.”
She was right. But I really hated that she was.
When the police arrived, Garner was too shaken to lie coherently to Hilliard and the chief, especially with the gunman floating a few feet away in his pool.
They worked together well as the chief asked fresh questions before Garner could invent a workable lie for the one Hilliard had previously asked. Once two of the chief’s officers hauled Luka’s corpse out of the water, Garner broke down completely, babbling a confession.
Carly and I were at the cabana bar, waiting for our turn to be grilled, when a cell phone rang. I picked it up, assuming it would be one of Garner’s accomplices.
But it wasn’t.
“Marvin?” a woman asked.
The bottom of my world dropped out. Because I know the voice as well as I know my own.
“Serena?”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. The line went so silent, I could hear her breathing.
“Serena? Is that you?”
Chapter 42
I spent the next hour in a basement cell at Port Vale PD, stonewalling everyone. They asked questions about Luka, but I had nothing to say.
First, a US marshal named Caldwell tried to bully information out of me, then Hilliard and the chief tried sweet reason to make me talk. I told them I was perfectly willing to explain exactly what happened and my part in it. The whole thing.
But first? There was someone I wanted to talk to. Face-to-face.
They’d get my full cooperation only after I talked to my late fiancée, Serena Rossi.
Finally, they caved. Caldwell led me upstairs to the chief’s glassed-in office, but he made me wear handcuffs.
“Sit at the desk, and keep your hands in plain sight at all times,” he cautioned. “No sudden movements.”
A few minutes later, he ushered Serena in. He held her chair as she sat down, facing me.
No handcuffs for her, I noticed. Caldwell took up a post by the door. He folded his arms and set his face in a permanent scowl.
I’d expected Serena to look train-wreck terrible—as bad as I’d felt in the first days after the bombing. I thought she’d be teary-eyed and sorrowful over the mess she’d made of our lives.
But she looked terrific, albeit strikingly different. Her long dark hair was cropped short and frosted blond. She’d always dressed well, but somehow she managed to look more “uptown” than before. In her short skirt, ecru designer jacket, and stiletto heels, she looked impeccable and even prettier than I remembered.
And yet, far, far less attractive.
I’d loved her once, or thought I had. Now she looked like…a casual acquaintance. She seemed like someone I’d known for a time, and not very well. It wasn’t far from the truth.
I was still dressed for the beach, in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. My whole outfit was sodden from Garner’s pool. I’d tried to hold on to my anger long enough to act outraged with her, but I couldn’t even manage that.
“You are one great-looking corpse,” I joked. “Are you okay?”
“Better than expected,” she said. “How much have they told you?”
“Not a thing. What happened?”
“The day that bomb went off, when I was waiting in the car for you, Marshal Caldwell came charging in to haul me out. He said my life was in danger, and it turned out he wasn’t kidding.”
“Wait, they knew about the bomb? In advance?”
“We found out a few minutes beforehand,” Caldwell interrupted. “I managed to get Miss Rossi to safety, and I was coming back for you when…well. It blew. There was nothing left of the car and no witnesses. You were unconscious. We figured our best chance to keep her alive was to let everyone think she was dead.”
“Including me?”
He shrugged, which was answer enough.
“And now?” I asked.
“I cut a deal with the federal prosecutors and the marshals,” Serena said. “I’ll testify against Marvin and the Serbian crime circle. In return I get witness protection. A new identity, and a new life.”
“On your own?”
“Be real, Brian. I hooked up with you because I wanted to make Marvin jealous, and you were the perfect guy for it. Handsome, hungry, and hot. Especially at first. But it wasn’t working out for us. We wouldn’t have lasted another week, let alone happily ever after.”
I couldn’t argue the point. She was right.
“And the black van?” I asked Caldwell. “Was that your team? Keeping tabs on me?”
“We were concerned Miss Rossi might try to contact you,” Caldwell said. “Witnesses often try to stay in touch with their old lives.”
My mind was racing. Serena had stayed in touch, but not with me. She must have been the one who blackmailed Garner. And since he thought she was dead, he assumed I’d been doing it.
Serena was the person who’d put me—and Carly—in danger this whole time.
I looked across the table at her, knowing that this conversation could go two ways. I could out her right there, and she could do some hard time in jail.
Or I could keep quiet, and let her go in peace.
She seemed to notice my hesitancy, because a look of horrified shock crossed her face. Her eyes pleaded with me. They asked me not to blame her.
And I truly didn’t.
Because she’s not the only one who’s starting a new life.
Chapter 43
The next day, I was back on the beach at first light, raking sand over the bonfire embers, picking up the empties, and watching the sun rise out of the breakers.
I was in my tower chair by nine, the Lord of the Shore again. I was watching, waiting for little kids to make little mistakes so I could save them.
At noon, Carly came by to rotate me out for lunch. She was barefoot and wearing a mauve swimsuit. I didn’t want lunch, so I stayed on instead, sharing my throne with her. Both of us gazed out over the lake in silence. After everything that had happened, we were a bit uneasy with each other now.
We’d been kids together and good friends once. And now we were a lot more than that.
We’d shared the most earth-shattering kiss up in the lifeguard tower, on my favorite beach in the world.
But being with me had nearly gotten her killed.
And she’d seen me
drown a man at the bottom of the pool.
Yet, here she was. Sitting beside me. In a silence that was killing me.
“So…um…I’m guessing you’re still really angry with me, right?” I asked. “Level twenty-something?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On where your resurrected lady love spent the night.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “That’s what you’re mad about?”
“There’s a long list of things I’m not happy about. But at the moment, that’s the one that tops my list. So?”
“I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”
“Really,” she said, giving me a look.
“Serena left with the marshals last night, Carly. She’s agreed to testify against Garner and the Serbs in exchange for witness protection.”
“So she’s gone?”
“She’s out of my life. Again. And all the way out this time. For good.”
She turned to stare at me. “And is it good? Having her out of your life, I mean?”
“Carly, she lied to me, and she nearly got us both killed. I don’t wish her harm, but believe me, whatever we had going is definitely over.”
“I see,” she nodded slowly, turning away. “And what about you? What will you do now?”
I couldn’t help smiling at that.
“I’m already doing it. I’m here, with you, watching the breakers roll in. I went to war, and I’ve been hustling my butt off since I came back, trying to make up for lost time. I thought I was doing okay, but now…?” I broke off, uncertain of how to say what needed to be said.
“But now what?” she prompted. She wasn’t looking at me. Instead, she stared straight out across the lake.
“I truly want to start my life over, Carly. Not from the beginning. Just from right…here.”
“Lifeguarding is a summer job, Brian.”
“I know it’s not a career, and I do have options. My ex-boss from the prosecutor’s office, Leon Stolz, called last night. He offered me my old job back.”
“So you’re leaving—”
“Never. I told him I’d think about it, but I was just being polite. I love the law and I’ll keep helping clients, but I don’t need a cubicle at Murphy Hall to do it. And I definitely don’t need an office on Cadillac Square. The view’s a lot better here.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I’m dead serious. Why should I go to work wearing a three-piece suit when I can be on the beach? Soaking up rays, watching the surf roll in?”
We stared out at the water, and I felt perfectly at peace.
Then I leaned back, looked at her, and said, “Look, I know it won’t last forever, but right now? I’m exactly where I need to be. A lifeguard lawyer. I don’t want my old job back and I don’t want a new one. I’ve already got the sweetest job on the planet. Right here. If that works for you.”
She didn’t say anything for a bit. She turned away from me, lost in thought. A seagull wheeled over us, keening. It was the loneliest sound in the world.
“What about me?” she asked at last. “What about us? Do I have a place in this brave new world of yours?”
“You’re the most important part of it. The only part that matters. Maybe I blew our chance back in the day, but it wasn’t our only shot. Serena’s starting over, maybe we can, too. Maybe we can get it right…”
But she didn’t seem to be listening. She was staring out over the water. Counting off the seconds under her breath.
“Too long,” she said abruptly, bolting out of the chair, scrambling down the ladder. “Three kids dove off the second raft. Only two came up. Can’t see the other one.” And then she was off, sprinting into the surf.
Shit!
Impeccable timing, again.
I was only half a step behind her, racing through the breakers toward the raft. Two kids were on it now, pounding their feet and frantically yelling for their friend.
When the waves hit us chest high, we both dove into them. We swam hard through the surf, taking long breaths to prep ourselves to dive down deep to find the lost boy and save him.
Together.
The Doctor’s Plot
James Patterson
with Connor Hyde
Prologue
There were no clouds that day, but there was a hot air balloon, its red and yellow checkerboard design offset by the blue sky. The sun had risen an hour before, and its low angle cast the balloon’s shadow miles away, rippling across the Napa vineyards.
The dawn was cool, and most of the ten people in the basket wore fleece and headbands. The wicker creaked beneath their weight, but the pilot assured them they were safe. They snapped photos, pointing down at the mansions tucked into the forested hills and at the tidy rows of vines that ran up against the tasting rooms and production facilities of the wineries.
They laughed when a hawk drifted by curiously. It flapped its wings, scared away when the propane burner blasted its flame and sent the balloon higher.
Hundreds of feet below, mist ghosted through the vineyards of Whitehall, Rutherford Grove, Provenance. There wasn’t much traffic at this early hour, but two vans paced the balloon, chasing down highways and zigzagging along roads, always in sight. The wind determined their course.
After they landed, they would be shuttled off to a champagne breakfast. Several of them were honeymooners, and everyone else introduced themselves as a tourist—except for one man, Paul Bures.
Paul was sixty-five, but a long way from retiring as the medical examiner of Napa County. Silver hair ringed his head. He wore jeans and a windbreaker. His glasses couldn’t hide the fatigue in his eyes, dark with exhaustion from the long hours he’d logged the day before. His knuckles were cracked, dried out from the powdered latex gloves he wore at work and from the many times he washed his hands every day.
He carried a long-lensed camera and seemed keenly interested in snapping photos of some of the vineyards. He politely said, “Excuse me,” when moving from one side of the basket to the other, but otherwise he barely acknowledged the other passengers.
There was plenty of room in the basket, and at one point nearly everyone was gathered on one side to take in the sunrise. Except for Paul, who took photo after photo of something below. Nobody heard his last words: “Hidden in plain sight.”
Nobody saw something buzz past his ear, like a wasp. He flicked a hand to wave it away. But the bullet—fired from below—had already struck its target.
There was a tink when it pierced the metal belly of the propane tank. This gave way to a wild exhalation, a hushing roar, as the spark of its entry gave way to a detonation that people reported hearing from as far as thirty miles away.
No one had time to yell “Oh my God!” or “Help!” The basket shattered with the blast. Pieces of wicker rained down, along with the bodies, several of them aflame. Falling like comets.
The balloon was shredded, but it rose suddenly, unburdened of its weight and propelled upward by the blast of heat. The flames were the same color as the red and orange fabric that it ate up—until it was gone, replaced by black smoke that smeared the sky.
Paul Bures silently cut through the air. Flailing his arms as though he might learn to fly. Finally crashing through a tangle of chardonnay grapes and impacting the ground with a damp thud.
The camera lay beside him, the lens shattered, while his blood seeped into the tan soil, feeding the vines’ roots.
Chapter 1
Abi Brenner ran a knife across the seam of the box and split it open. Inside she found a pile of old textbooks on anatomy and biochemistry. “This isn’t it either,” she said with a sigh.
She was surrounded by so many boxes that the air smelled like cardboard. They cluttered the floor and the counter of the kitchen where she now stood. The moving truck had arrived that morning, and everything was everywhere.
The couch in the living room was a messy jumble of lamps and blankets and photo albums. The bed frame was assembled but the
mattress was still in the garage. They had unpacked the board games and the winter jackets, of all things, but nothing they actually needed.
This was their first house—a three-bedroom ranch just outside of Napa—but right now it felt more claustrophobic even than the one-bedroom apartment they’d lived in during med school.
“Jeremy?” she said.
From some far corner of the house his voice shouted back, “Yeah? Just a sec.” She heard his footsteps thumping and then he appeared at the end of the hallway. He was a tall man, who slumped his shoulders when he walked as if he was afraid of bumping his head on something. He twirled a screwdriver in his hand. “What’s up? You okay?”
That’s how he always greeted her these days—“You okay?”—his eyes immediately dropping to her belly. She wasn’t pregnant, but they were trying. And failing. And trying again.
She woke up that morning nauseous, but she threw up in the shower so that Jeremy wouldn’t hear. She didn’t want to get his hopes up. He already worried so much, always fussing over her, spoiling her, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her tea or lemonade and telling her not to work so hard, to take it easy.
But that wasn’t in her nature. Work defined her. Maybe it had something to do with having grown up on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, but she couldn’t remain idle. Hell, to her, was a cruise ship.
That work ethic—that constant drive to accomplish something—was one of the reasons she applied for the medical examiner position here in Napa. There were only a few hundred such jobs in the country, all of them severely overburdened. Sometimes bodies remained in the freezer for over a year before being processed. She would never have less than a seventy-hour workweek. She knew this when she’d applied for the emergency hire, and it weirdly appealed to her.
When Jeremy entered the kitchen, she lifted her hands and let them fall. “I thought I better get the kitchen set up, but I can’t find anything. We were stupid not to label the boxes.” She hated the way her voice cracked with emotion. She recognized that she was running on a few hours of sleep. She knew her blood sugar was low from not having eaten any lunch. She felt almost certain she was pregnant, which meant her body was under a hormonal attack. But still. There was nothing worse than feeling weak and jittery, as she did now.
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