“Karly.”
Jackie nodded. “Thanks, Karly. The cops will find your car eventually and return it to you, but it could be a couple of days.”
“I understand.”
“Is there a security camera back here?”
Karly nodded. “Yes, but not in this conference area. If they watch it, they’ll see that you walked in here and that I was already here. I’m sure they’ll ask me questions, but I can handle it. I’ll tell them the truth. That I saw you, you scared me—which you did—and that I dropped my purse—which I did.”
“Thank you, Karly,” Ian said and pushed the door open.
“Any cops out there?”
He glanced the length of the building. “Not yet.” He stepped into the back alley parking lot.
“But they will be soon.” Jackie clicked the remote and Ian started when the Ford Taurus next to him beeped to life.
“Guess that’s it.”
“Guess so. Climb in.” She opened the door and Gus bounded into the driver’s seat and then on into the back.
“Where are we going?” he asked as he shut the door.
“To my grandfather’s cabin. It’s a good idea and we need to be able to talk without looking over our shoulder every three seconds.” She cranked the car, backed up, and drove down the back alley behind the store until she came to the end of the strip. Blue lights flashed behind her and Ian tensed his hand reaching for the car handle. “Relax,” she murmured. “He’s not following us.”
Ian didn’t take his eyes from the side mirror. “Yet.”
She pressed the gas pedal, pulled out around the side of the building, and flipped the car lights off. Darkness encased them. He looked left. The bookstore parking lot held a dozen law enforcement vehicles. He wondered if the FBI had been called in yet. He might not have been officially named a suspect, but he knew it was only a matter of time.
“They’re going to be stopping everyone shortly,” Jackie said. “We need to get out of here before that happens.”
“I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened.”
“They were being careful not to tip us off. As soon as they discover we’re not in there, the hunt will ramp up.” Jackie turned her headlights back on and continued to the right, past other shops in the strip mall, and then circled around. “Okay, I guess it’s now or never.”
She made it to the edge of the lot.
Ian tensed. “Look.” Police cars, a SWAT van, and unmarked cars headed their way.
“They’re going for the parking lot of the coffee shop,” she said.
“They think we’re still in there.”
“Which is going to enable us to slip away.” She turned right onto the road parallel to the parking lot. The interstate lay just ahead.
Ian thought he might stop breathing before they managed to get on the highway, but somehow, someway, they’d made it. “They’ll be looking for this car.”
“I know. In about ten minutes, I can get off the highway and take the back roads.”
Exhaustion swamped him. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes as he tried to figure out how he found himself on the run from the cops and the guys who wanted him dead.
Which may or may not be the same people.
5
11:00 P.M.
In the parking lot of the large bookstore, South Carolina Law Enforcement Division Agent Sam Ferguson slammed a fist on the hood of his black Chevy SUV. “How’d they do it? How did they slip away? We had the brother’s phone tapped, officers followed him here, and Lockwood and Sellers still got away. How?”
FBI Special Agent Elizabeth Miller simply raised an eyebrow and looked around. Organized chaos reigned, but she knew Jackie and Ian were gone. “They’re smart. They didn’t panic and they had a plan for when we showed up. And they stole a car.” She glanced at her phone, then Sam. “Who’s this Jackie Sellers woman?”
“She works for an agency called Operation Refuge. We have someone locating her co-workers.”
“Operation Refuge?” Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I’ve heard of that.”
Sam nodded. “It’s an organization that was set up by the governor a couple of years ago. Or supported by the governor. Or whatever. However it came about, all of their ‘operatives’—for want of a better word—are highly trained people who’ve worked in some area of law enforcement before.”
“What’s Jackie’s background?”
“She turned thirty-three two weeks ago. She did four years of college and majored in criminal justice. She joined the police force, then made detective. Had an exemplary record. Then six years ago, she took a leave of absence and never went back. Last year she was hired by Operation Refuge.”
“Where was she during the LOA?”
“No idea. It’s like she dropped off the face of the earth. No credit card activity during that time, nothing. She resurfaced when she took the job with Operation Refuge.”
“Why did she take the LOA?” Elizabeth scanned the area, her mind spinning, creating scenario after scenario of how they’d slipped through their fingers.
“Her partner was killed,” Sam said.
“Oh no. That’s awful.”
“He died on a Thursday night and she walked away after his funeral on Saturday afternoon. His death wasn’t her fault, but apparently she blames herself.”
“Of course she does.” Elizabeth shot him a black look. “Any good partner would.”
He snorted. “Well, she shouldn’t blame herself for this one. It’s so cliché it makes me sick. Her partner walked into a convenience store sometime after midnight. Two guys come in with shotguns and blow everyone away. They got two hundred bucks and some change.”
“That’s terrible.” She frowned. “But why blame herself?”
“No one seems to know the answer to that one. They were off duty, she was home in bed …” He shrugged.
“Was there something more than just being partners?”
“You mean a romance thing?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It happens.”
“Agreed.”
“So why did she blame herself? Survivor’s guilt?”
“Probably.”
“Did they catch the guys?”
“Yes. After they killed two more people. They’re doing life.”
She winced. “So how did she get involved with Ian Lockwood?”
He checked his phone. “According to the information that came in about thirty minutes ago, they went to high school together and were good friends.”
“Did Lockwood call her when he found himself a person of interest in this case?”
“Phone records don’t indicate that he called her. It looks like she tried to call him, but the call lasted only for a couple of seconds.”
“Like when it goes to voice mail and you hang up without leaving a message. Then how did they hook up?”
He shrugged. “I can speculate, but that’s all it is.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t really care. If Lockwood’s guilty—and it sure looks like he is—and she’s helping him run from us, I’m going to bring them both down. No matter what I have to do to make that happen.”
GREENVILLE, SC
David Hackett hung up with a low growl. His wife, Summer, looked up at him. She placed the knife she’d been using to slice an apple on the kitchen counter. She turned the faucet on to wash her hands. “Nothing?”
“Not a word. Jackie’s cell phone goes straight to voice mail. Adam’s at her house now. I’m just waiting for him to call me.”
Adam Buchanan, another Operation Refuge operative. Summer pursed her lips and kept one ear tuned to the baby monitor. Two-year-old Riley had been coughing and sniffling all day and Summer thought she might be coming down with something.
The phone rang and David snatched it.
“Put it on speaker, please,” Summer said.
He did.
Adam’s deep voice came over the line. “Her apartment’s been torn apart. Her car isn’t here. The
re’s no sign of her. I’m worried.”
David frowned and glanced at Summer. “All right. What about the cops?”
“The cops just pulled up so this isn’t their work. I didn’t think it was when I saw it. This looks like someone was looking for something—and they didn’t find it.”
“Keep an eye on the place for tonight. Just in case she decides to come back for some reason.”
“Will do.”
Summer stepped behind David and massaged his shoulders. He let out a low groan and dropped his forehead into his hands.
“She’ll call,” Summer said.
“Not if she can’t.” He stopped and thought about that. “But why wouldn’t she be able to?”
“She’s in trouble. Deep trouble. You saw the news.”
“I saw it, but she has a phone,” David said, rubbing his eyes.
“Unless she doesn’t?”
“Stop. She can find a phone somewhere. She can stop a stranger and sweet-talk him into letting her use it.”
“But she’s not doing that.”
“I know that, thank you,” he mumbled.
“You’re welcome.” She kissed the top of his ear. “So, what are we going to do?”
David sighed and lifted his head. “Until she gets in touch with us, there’s nothing we really can do.” He glanced at the television on the wall. Jackie and Ian’s pictures once again flashed across the national news channel. “We can pray.”
Summer’s gaze followed his. “Yeah. A lot.” Silence surrounded them, broken only by the television reporter giving information about calling “if anyone spots the two fugitives wanted for questioning regarding terrorist acts against the United States.” Summer finally broke the quiet. “Think Ron could find her?”
“If anyone can, it’ll be him. Maybe she’ll call him.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” She tapped her lip and her frown deepened. “Keep trying. She’s bound to turn her phone on at some point.”
“Let’s hope so.”
The baby monitor crackled. “Mama. Come get me. Now.” Summer smiled. She slid into David’s lap to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m going to get Riley, but I want to go to Jackie’s house and look around.”
“What do you think you’ll be able to find that Adam couldn’t?”
“I don’t know,” Summer sighed. “But at least I’d feel proactive.” She glanced at the quiet baby monitor. She wouldn’t have long before Riley would demand her attention again.
“Let’s give it awhile longer and let Adam take care of Jackie’s house.” He studied the television. “I sure hope she knows what she’s doing.”
Summer nodded and headed for the baby’s room. “I hope so too. I really do.”
Victor looked at the computer. He studied the information his inside man had retrieved and sent just minutes ago. He’d finally given up the chase and decided to let the cops handle it. Once Lockwood and Sellers were in custody, he could get to them as easily as he could cross the street.
Right now, he needed to make sure he conducted as much damage control as possible. He picked up the phone and dialed his contact.
The man answered on the second ring. “Did you get it?” he asked Victor.
“I did. So these are the numbers Lockwood called that day?”
“Yes.”
“And you traced all of them.”
“I did.”
“So who is Holly Kent?” Victor asked.
“Lockwood’s cousin. She lives in New York with her daughter, Lucy. Holly and Lockwood are close and they stay in touch. He visits her three to four times a year. Her husband was in the military, but he went missing about a year ago.”
“All right. Why is she important?”
“It looks like he faxed several things that day, including something to her. The fax was one page. I’m thinking it must have been the email.”
“Why would he fax it to her?” Victor frowned.
“She’s a cryptologist.”
Victor sucked in a breath. “Well now, that wrinkles the picture a bit, doesn’t it?”
“I would say. If she deciphers that code and tells someone …”
“Yes. You don’t have to tell me what a disaster that would be.”
“I’m assuming you want her found.”
“Yesterday.”
“She’ll be taken care of by the end of the night.”
Special Agent Elizabeth Miller stepped inside Jackie’s small cottage-style house and stopped. “Someone beat us here.” She reached for her Glock and Sam did the same. She nodded for Sam to go left and she went right. Elizabeth stepped sideways and moved slow, eyes roaming, senses alert. She absently noted the tasteful if plain décor, the lack of family pictures or plants. Jackie didn’t spend much time here.
Her gut said whoever had trashed the place had already left, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
“Clear!” Sam’s voice came from the kitchen.
She picked up the pace and cleared two bedrooms and a bathroom. All in the same state of upheaval as the den, but no sign of anyone still in the house. “Clear!”
They met back in the foyer. “What do you think they were looking for?”
She shrugged. “Whatever Lockwood stole from Wainwright Labs.”
“But why look for it here?”
Sam sighed. And holstered his weapon. “I don’t know. All I know is the two of them are together and they’re running when they should be turning themselves in. Why run if you’re not guilty?”
“You either run if you’re guilty …”
“Or?” he prodded.
“Or you’re innocent, but don’t have a hope of proving it.”
6
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 23
4:30 A.M.
Jackie supposed she’d finally snapped. Because driving the back roads, heading for Virginia, with a wanted man lightly snoring in the passenger seat didn’t say positive things about her sanity. Then again, she was wanted too, so …
On the positive side of things, they were almost to her grandfather’s home. The home she’d spent the last two years of high school in. The home she’d had in college. The home her uncle had promised was hers for as long as she wanted it. As she drove, she pushed aside the memories. Even the good ones. She didn’t have time to think about those. She had to figure out how to help Ian prove his innocence.
If he was innocent.
Which she thought he was.
But what if she was wrong?
Doubts assailed her. She figured now would be a good time to start praying.
If she was a praying woman.
Which she wasn’t.
At least not usually.
She’d stopped praying after John was killed. Scenes from their last day together flashed across her mind and she sucked in a deep breath. Six years. It had been six years and the grief could still rip into her if she let it.
She didn’t. She’d come to grips with her past and moved on. Still. Some memories wounded more than others.
Gus whined from the backseat. He seemed to sense her inner turmoil. She glanced in the rearview mirror. The dog moved closer and laid his big head on her shoulder. And just stayed there.
Her mind circled back to John, a good man, a good cop, and a partner in more ways than one. She just didn’t understand a God who let good people die while evil people seemed to live and flourish.
God. She snorted.
She and God had a complicated relationship and she had a feeling that was her fault. No. Correction. She knew it was her fault. She believed in God, she just wasn’t sure she believed him. Two very different things. It would almost be easier if she just didn’t believe in him, if she could just convince herself that he didn’t even exist. But she couldn’t. She’d felt his presence too many times in the past. At least up until six years ago. No, the problem wasn’t trying to figure out if he was real, the problem was, she just didn’t trust him anymore. He’d thrown so many curve balls at her in her lifetime that she’d fin
ally gotten tired of trying to dodge them. She’d given up on love and she’d given up on God.
She climbed the winding road until she reached the gravel strip that led to the parking area of the cabin—a three-bedroom, two-bath ranch-style log cabin home. Not what most people thought of when picturing a mountain cabin.
The home sat tucked into the mountain on one side. Her favorite part of the house was the rambling deck off the back that overlooked the mountains. When inside, she felt like no one could see her or the house. Private and secure. Jackie instantly felt better. She cut the car off and Ian jerked awake. Gus moved over to Ian’s side of the car and snuffled his ear. Ian gave the dog’s snout a gentle push away and yawned.
“We’re here,” she said.
Remorse flashed across his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t help you drive.”
“You were exhausted. I’m better off with you sleeping so you can be alert when I need to rest.”
He shot her a tender look. “You always did try to save my pride.”
She swallowed hard and hoped the darkness hid the flush she felt crawling up her neck. She shrugged. She wasn’t just blowing smoke and trying to make him feel better. “Come on, I know where the key is and I bet Gus is ready to take care of business.”
Ian climbed out and motioned for Gus to find a tree. The dog raced off.
“He’ll come back, won’t he?” she asked.
“Yes. He’ll do his thing, run off some steam, then be begging to come inside where it’s warm.”
He followed her to the door. “Some cabin. The only thing resembling a cabin is the logs. This place is big.”
She smiled. “I know. Cabin makes it sound so humble, doesn’t it?” Jackie punched in the code and the lockbox opened. She snagged the key and opened the door. “Come on in.”
Ian stepped into the foyer. “Nice.”
“Yeah, but it’s freezing in here.”
“I’ll find the thermostat.”
He disappeared around the corner while she went to the gas logs and turned them on, then walked into the kitchen and went straight to the coffeepot. After measuring the grounds, she turned to find Ian looking around and tried to see the place with his eyes. A large open area with two couches, a flat screen television mounted above the fireplace, and the dining area just off the kitchen—the open-concept living area was attractive and well laid out. And large.
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