by V. R. Marks
Finally, the static images on his computer changed as a team stormed in to make their rescue. He watched, eager for a glimpse of the woman he knew only by voice and reputation.
There was no sign of her. He resigned himself to wait a bit longer. They identified one camera and disabled it quickly, but he watched the drama play out on the second camera.
Just as they'd done the night his nephew was killed, the team advanced. The first explosion knocked them back. The injuries would be minor, by design. The camera on the hostage showed the man's agitation as he strained against his bonds and shouted warnings to his rescuers.
Perfect.
For a moment, rescue activity halted and Bakr filled in the predictable discussion. Surely they would ask the queen for her advice. He'd staged it so she would remember vividly the night his nephew had been sacrificed.
He sent the code for his next move, relishing the ripple of anticipation.
His ransom was an audience with the queen. If they would not bring her to him, he would take her.
He watched the team change tactics and let them have the hostage. The exercise had served its purpose.
It was clear now her team cared for her and respected her opinion. And they would give him exactly what he needed to get her back.
* * *
Picking up the radio handset from the kitchen counter, Carson requested a status from the perimeter team. He confirmed windows were locked tight upstairs as each of the six men outside checked in with all clear signals.
Downstairs, he did the same circuit, skipping the den because he didn't want to disturb Eva. She was so intent, he figured the last thing she'd bother with was opening a window.
He finished the breakfast cleanup, needing to do something while they waited for word on the Matheson rescue. The helpless, sitting duck feeling was already getting to him. Someone was making his town unsafe. Beyond taking a shot at Eva, the false alarms and staged accidents were unsettling for everyone in his community.
He poured the last of the coffee into his mug and stared out the window at the glassy lake.
While some people – like Eva – might find the tight knit small town atmosphere annoying because few things stayed private, he understood the inherent value and comforting tradeoff. He viewed his neighbors as extended family and took his responsibility for their safety and peace of mind seriously.
Haleswood was home.
Six vigilant, armed men stationed around the house should have made him feel better. He wasn't the only thing standing between her and whoever put that bounty on her head. He didn't know them – didn't need to. Ross wouldn't have assigned anyone but the best to this detail. But Eva's warning about getting chased out of the house kept blaring like a siren in his head.
He rinsed his mug and put it in the dishwasher.
Ruth kept a gun cabinet in the garage. If this bastardo, as Eva frequently called him, continued picking off the security detail, Carson wanted more defense than the 9mm at his side. The AT-4 rocket launcher Eva mentioned sounded like a good option. Too bad he had no way to get one and wouldn't know how to fire it if he did.
He flipped on the garage light, pleased by the sight of Ruth's shotgun front and center in the cabinet. Testing the action, he smiled. The woman who fed nearly everyone in town at least once a day knew how to care for other things too. He made a mental note to get her a Christmas present instead of just a card this year. Finding the box of shells, he loaded the shotgun. He noticed plenty of .22 ammunition, but no gun. Maybe she carried that one with her. If he was lucky she kept it in her bedroom.
He looked around for anything else they might use as defense, but beyond the basics in Ruth's tool box, the guns were about it. While a hammer could do damage at close range, he wasn't about to take more ribbing about his paranoia. Once Matheson was rescued, he'd invite Eva out here to take a look. As a small town deputy, he hadn't been trained on improvised explosive devices or rocket launchers. While he understood she'd done her Special Forces analyst thing well back from the action in the field, he'd bet his salary she had a much deeper knowledge of that kind of thing than he did. A smart man would probably be intimidated by that, but Carson found it all the more intriguing.
Had he really almost kissed her? Oh, yeah. And he wanted to follow through. Part of his mind was still locked on that moment in the kitchen. They had bigger things to think about right now, but when this was over he'd get that kiss.
His phone rang and he snatched it up, hoping like hell it was positive news about Matheson. "Morris."
"I taught you the proper way to answer a phone."
"Hi, Mom. Sorry. I thought it was business."
"Your business associates appreciate manners too."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Is it business that has you living with that Italian girl?"
Carson rolled his eyes and leaned back against the hood of the car. This could take a while. "Yes ma'am."
"Your grandmother wants to know if she should set a place for your new friend for dinner Christmas Eve."
"That's a week away, Mom."
"That's no answer, son."
"Eva's not really my friend, Mom."
"But everyone's talking about how much time you spend together. And that was before you moved in with her at Ruth's place."
"Come on," Carson grumbled, reminding himself he liked his small town life, despite the gossip chain. "I'm here on assignment, same as her."
"Does she have family coming to town? A place to celebrate the holidays?"
"No, but –"
"I'll tell your grandma she'll join us. Everyone should have a family to be with this time of year."
He agreed, in theory, but he wasn't about to risk anyone's safety by taking Eva to his grandma's house. How to explain that to his mom without causing more worry? "Tell grandma I may need to get two dinners to go."
He heard his mother's quiet gasp, but he knew better than to promise something he couldn't deliver. "Business, Mom. Trust me, if we can be there we will be, but there's a lot of work to get done."
"I can talk to Sheriff Cochran."
"Mom," he warned. "This has nothing to do with the shift schedule. You know some things don't go by the calendar."
"Fine."
His radio crackled and he dialed down the volume so she wouldn't overhear. "Look, I have to get going. Tell Grandma thanks for the invitation."
"I love you."
"Love you too," he replied, quickly ending the call.
He turned up the radio, and asked for an update, but static was the only reply.
Taking one of the reusable shopping totes off the peg by the door, he dumped in the rest of the ammunition. With the radio back on his belt, he headed back inside to look for the missing .22. He'd feel better if Eva was armed and the smaller gun shouldn't give her shoulder any trouble.
Locking the door behind him, he reset the door chimes on the security system. Assuming Eva's enemies wouldn't have any problem disarming the system, he made a mental note to find a low tech, old school noisemaker to put by the doors too.
Did they still call it paranoia when the threat was real? Didn't matter. Anywhere he could eke out an advantage he would.
The radio crackled again and a voice calmly announced, "Unknown contact lakeside. Investigating."
Carson paused in the small exercise room, cursing himself for not putting a radio next to Eva in the den. Lakeside could mean just about anywhere out back. Ruth's house had an excellent view of the entire north end of the lake, something he'd admired until it worked against him.
Confident the team on the perimeter would do their job, he entered the kitchen as the glass in the back door shattered, sending broken bits of glass skittering across the tile floor like sharp-edged raindrops.
Not a gunshot he realized, peeking around the cover of the center island. An elbow. And the hand attached was working to unlock the door.
Carson stood tall, shotgun ready. His order to freeze was ignored and the se
curity system wailed as the door parted from the sensor. He leveled the gun and fired.
The intruder stumbled with a pained yelp, but kept advancing into the kitchen.
"Where is the queen?" Glass crunched underfoot. "Give her to me and you will live."
Carson wondered how that would work since it appeared he was the only one armed. He pumped the action and held down the trigger, using a slamfire technique in an attempt to drive the intruder out.
The man lunged, heedless of the gunfire and Carson found himself in hand to hand combat. He held his ground, using the butt of the rifle to ram the attacker's gut, only to feel an unyielding flak jacket.
It pissed him off.
He went for the weaker points of knees and the wound in the intruder's arm. Still, he found himself in a choke hold, pinned against the center island, his service weapon out of reach. There was no way he was letting this happen. No way would he allow this guy to lay so much as a finger on Eva.
He rolled back onto the island, drawing his knees up and slamming the heels of his hands into the man's ears. Not the final strike, but enough to give him room. He gulped in air as he landed on the other side of the island and drew his weapon.
The intruder rushed by him, racing toward the den. Toward Eva.
"Get back," he shouted at her as he fired three rounds into the back of the intruder's knee. The man dropped with a scream that rivaled the alarm. Furious, Carson stalked over, grabbed the guy's collar, and dragged him back across the broken glass toward the door.
Eva hovered in the doorway, staring at the men and the mess strewn across the kitchen. "Are you hurt?"
"Stay down!" he shouted over the incessant blaring of the alarm. "There may be more."
She sank to the floor. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
But his voice was rough from the abusive choke hold. "Give me the radio." She needed something to do and the dark look on his face told her he wasn't about to part with a weapon. Relieved he didn't hesitate, she scooped up the radio and called for an ambulance. Then she requested an immediate team check-in and ordered everyone to fall back to the house.
Only five of the six guards working the perimeter responded affirmatively. She wanted to redirect someone on the team to the last known position of the sixth, but it was too risky. Once they understood the current crisis, they could send someone out.
She watched Carson go through the pat down looking for weapons. Once he'd removed a knife and a syringe of some sort, he cuffed the intruder.
The syringe had probably been meant for her, but to break in with only a knife seemed like a serious planning mistake. And why hadn't the guy pulled the knife during the fight?
She started to stand, but Carson signaled her to stay put. Fine by her. If he wasn't ready to ease up, she could wait it out. After placing all of the weapons and the syringe safely out of reach on the center island, he crossed to the security system control panel and silenced the alarm.
"Are you hurt?"
She looked up into his serious face and a shaky, adrenaline-induced laugh was her first response. "I'm good."
He jerked his chin toward the radio. "Is everyone checked in?"
"All but one." She knew there had to be this all-business side of him, he was a sheriff's deputy after all. But it was such a change from his typical easy-going nature, she struggled to adjust.
"Probably the guy who spotted this one." Carson pointed at the bleeding, trussed up intruder. "Recognize him?"
"No."
"Want to talk to him?"
She was tempted, but knowing the Morcos operation, she didn't think she'd get anything relevant out of him. "I'll leave that to the real interrogators. But we have one question answered." Outside, the sound of emergency sirens grew louder, closing in on Ruth's house. "The sniper didn't come to Haleswood alone."
"How can you be sure?"
"Well, fine. I'm not a hundred percent sure. Yet. But it doesn't make sense to leave a hostage like Matheson unattended."
"Definitely not," he agreed. "If you're right about Morcos using him to bait you."
"Exactly." She stood up, pleased he agreed with her logic.
"Is he free?"
"They're working on it. Want me to answer that?" She pointed behind him to the silhouette darkening the glass oval of the front door.
Carson stalked down the hall and confirmed the person on the porch was a friendly before opening the door.
Eva watched the brief exchange as Carson sent the man back out, presumably to look for the guard who had yet to check in. She reached for her pendant and said a quick prayer they wouldn't find another casualty.
So much for the defensible position argument, she thought. Not that she expected the sheriff or Ross to change the set up now, but this put a new spin on the threat closing in on her. She felt terrible about the damage to Ruth's beautiful home and right before Christmas too. Hopefully she'd think up some way to make it up to her.
But right now she knew her best bet was to solve this riddle – and fast.
From the den, Eva's phone rang and she hurried back to answer. "Hello?"
"Matheson's safe," Ross reported. "No real injuries, but we transported him anyway."
"Local hospital?"
"No."
She breathed a sigh of relief. The sooner they got anyone associated with the Morcos kidnapping away from Haleswood, the better she'd feel. "You'll send him home after he's debriefed, right?"
"I'll try."
"Try hard." If Ross failed, she'd find a way to convince Matheson to lay low until this was over. "What about the kidnapper?"
"No sign of him."
"I beg your pardon? Someone should have been there."
"Nichols put the FBI crime scene techs on the job, so if there's a lead we'll have it soon."
"Knowing Matheson's skills, leaving him alone was risky." She went to the kitchen doorway and stared at the man on the floor, wishing for answers she knew he wouldn't provide. Had Bakr made a mistake? Or was this all an elaborate diversion. Felt like diversion in her gut, but –"
"Did you get anywhere with the video feeds?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I put the ghost on that. I'm sure he'll have a report."
"Why?"
She recognized that cautious tone. He knew her well enough to realize she wouldn't hand off something important unless she was following something else. "In the interest of preserving the peace, ask me that later, okay?"
"Eva."
"What? We've been busy with our own share of trouble."
"What happened? Talk to me."
"An intruder happened. Carson handled it." Her heart still fluttered a bit – and not entirely from adrenaline. He'd had the perfect chance, and every right, to kill the man but he'd maintained his composure and given them a potential source of intel. "We're taking a head count now."
"Put him on."
"He's talking to the paramedics. I am perfectly capable of giving you the report."
"Don't let the paramedics go before I get there."
"O-okay." That struck her as a curious demand. "We've got pictures and I'm already running his face through the system."
"No prints?"
"Superglue," she explained. The application made immediate, accurate fingerprint identification impossible.
"Damn."
"I can find some nail polish remover."
"No. I don't want you anywhere near him."
"Fine. I'll behave. He's conscious, but not inclined to cooperate."
"You've tried talking to him?"
She frowned at the phone before she replied. "No."
"Good. Don't."
"I know my limits," she snapped.
"About time. Now put Morris on the line."
"I may not have shot the guy, but I managed to call for the ambulance."
"You're a real rock star, sugar."
She growled into the phone, knowing he'd added the sweet talk to irritate her.
"I'm on my way. You have about
ten minutes to finish or hide whatever it is you don't want to tell me about."
"No rest for the wicked." She held up the phone to get Carson's attention. "It's for you."
He parted from the paramedics. "Ross or the sheriff?"
"Ross." She handed him the phone. "He wants your take on things."
Letting the men bond over the technicalities of the intruder's attempt, she went back to her computer. Any second now she'd have the lead on Abe. Her gut instinct insisted he was the key to unveiling the real cause of this whole mess.
Chapter 8
In the den, the computer chimed with a result. "We've got a lead!" At the last second she went around the couch rather than leaping over it like a kid on a sugar high.
But it wasn't Bakr's face staring back at her as she'd hoped. It was the older, supposedly deceased brother, Abraham.
"I knew it." Elated and relieved, she just stared at his picture for a moment. The anticipation came next and she let it shiver through her. It would be a pleasure to destroy whatever Bakr was trying to pull off.
"Where are you, my friend?" When she read the location of the camera that captured his face, she had no idea how to proceed.
Not only was he in Haleswood, he'd been caught on the camera at the emergency room door. Obviously it was a willful thing as he'd looked straight into the camera. She checked the time and gasped. Less than an hour ago.
Brilliant move to stay in a place with plenty of security and help. Bakr's team couldn't make a move without exposing themselves. And a strange face at the hospital would create wonderful, informative gossip around town.
"Way to go, Abe."
She sent Ross a text message to share the news and her phone rang before the 'message sent' icon faded.
"I swung by the hospital to pick up the passenger."
"Cool. See you soon." She ended the call and leaped into analyst mode.
Abe being alive diverted immediate disaster, but only if they could figure out why Bakr was making a move now.
The FBI information showed Morcos' companies bidding on government contracts in the states. As far as Eva had been able to unravel the details following Amelia's access within the company, Abe hadn't known about those deals before his reported death.
