He drove out of the nursery, waited for an opening in traffic and then turned immediately onto Hazeltine. Calling into dispatch, giving clipped instructions, he drove faster than he should have. Once he reached the end of the pavement, a cloud of dust rose behind him.
Nothing looked any different at the farm. He peered in windows of the house and barn, and rolled up the doors of the two garages. Nothing. He felt the first drizzle on his face as he got back in his car.
He was going to Annika Lindstrom’s next. By God, he was going to look inside every outbuilding on her property no matter how many laws he was violating. He’d put bolt cutters in the trunk of his car a few days ago, so he would be ready.
What scared the crap out of him was to think that his whole theory about Hugh’s death was way off base. If he was wrong, if Annika had never been one of Hugh’s lovers, then Kat was dead.
Simple as that. They’d never find her in time.
“No.” The word ripped out of his throat, leaving it raw.
He put his squad car in gear, swung in a wide circle and jammed his foot down hard on the gas.
KAT LANDED HARD ON THE concrete floor of the garage. Hard enough that she felt her brain wobble and her vision faded again. No, no, please, she thought desperately. Don’t let me lose consciousness.
She knelt there for a minute, two minutes, the heels of her hands and her knees hurting fiercely, before her vision gradually cleared. She scrambled behind the shrouded car as if she were an animal diving for a burrow.She was in one of those big metal garages. There were two double garage doors, both closed, and a side door beyond Hugh’s truck. She didn’t see anyone else. Her head turning, she made her cautious way to her own truck. The key was in the ignition. She could drive away, if the garage doors weren’t locked.
What were the chances of that?
She tugged, trying to lift one. It creaked but wouldn’t lift. She rushed to the other and tried, with no more success. There were rails above, but no automatic opener.
She tried the side door next. The handle turned, but there seemed to be a dead bolt just above that could only be opened with a key.
Kat heard herself whimpering. This was worse than being trapped in the shed. Whoever had brought her here couldn’t let her leave, not now that she’d seen Hugh’s truck and bones. It must have been here all this time, she realized, his body slowly decomposing. The seat cover had rotted beneath the bones. Kat shuddered at the idea of what the body had done, just propped there, staring sightlessly forward until it crumpled in on itself.
She imagined herself sitting for eternity next to Hugh in his old pickup, her own body melting into the upholstery of the seat, until eventually there was only crusted stuffing and rusting springs and bones.
Every breath shuddered in and out.
Don’t panic. Find something to use as a weapon.
She didn’t see any racks of tools. The garage was spotless and remarkably empty but for the row of vehicles.
There was a second covered vehicle beyond her pickup. Who covered their cars, inside a garage? Kat hurried over and lifted the heavy canvas. She saw a running board and a gleaming burgundy finish. The car was an antique, the kind an owner would take out once or twice a year to display at a show or drive in the Fourth of July parade. It had beautiful leather upholstery and was completely empty. She tiptoed back and lifted the other cover. Another antique. Something about the style made her think gangsters. Late 1920s or early 1930s then.
She’d never been especially interested in old cars, but hadn’t she heard that someone she knew collected them? With her head pounding, it was hard to think.
There was a tire iron in her truck. That was the closest thing to a weapon she could think of. When she took it out of the well that hid the spare tire, she banged it against the metal body of the truck and cringed. When she froze and listened, she heard nothing.
What about Hugh’s truck? He often left tools in it. There were sure to be things like a rake and a shovel and who knew what else. Frightened as she’d never been in her life, she crossed the short open space back to his truck and looked into the bed.
A skull leered up at her.
With a cry, she leaped back. Oh God, oh God. She stared at the truck, hating the little gasps that she couldn’t seem to stop making.
You knew there was another body. Remember? Two pelvises?
Okay. Nobody long dead could hurt her. She crept back and looked again. An entire human skeleton lay there.
No—not entire. The pelvis was definitely missing. Okay. This was a woman. There was a hole in her skull that didn’t belong there. If Hugh had been shot, it wasn’t in the head.
Kat saw a bundle of clothing. She reached in gingerly and separated one piece from another. She recognized the shirt as Hugh’s, the one he’d been wearing that morning. And—God—those were his boxer shorts. His work boots lay there, a woman’s athletic shoe atop them, another a few feet away. None of the clothes seemed to be bloody. Which meant… It meant Hugh and the woman had already been naked when they died. Surely they hadn’t been having sex in the back of the pickup? It was dirty and the ribbed metal bed would be horribly uncomfortable. Hugh had never bought a rubber lining.
Does it matter? Kat thought semihysterically. They were dead. She’d be dead if she couldn’t escape from this garage before the killer returned.
Or would anybody return at all? Maybe she’d be left to die in her own good time. No, no, no! That didn’t make any sense. Starving must take forever. She could make an awful racket if no one came. Maybe even batter her way through the garage door with her truck.
Maybe, she thought, she should try to do that now. Before anyone came.
But she was too late. She heard the snick of a lock, and then the side door swung open.
GRANT TURNED ON LIGHTS and siren before he reached the highway. As he roared into town, cars scattered to get out of his way. He switched off both lights and siren a quarter of a mile before he reached Annika Lindstrom’s place. He didn’t want to alert her if she was holding Kat there.
He skidded to a stop on the shoulder of the road in front of the neighbor’s place. Her hedge still blocked the sight of her house from him. Then he got out, grabbed the bolt cutters and unholstered his weapon. Moving fast, he rounded the hedge.No vehicles were in the circular drive. The windows of the house were blank. Bending low, he ran to the garage. The Land Rover was in there, the Camry was missing.
Had she not brought Kat here?
It’s not Annika Lindstrom at all. Why the hell did you think it was? You’ve completely screwed up. Some nut has Kat while you’re chasing the thinnest of possibilities.
Damn it, he had to keep his cool. She wouldn’t have Kat at the house or garage. He knew that. If she’d taken her anywhere, it would be one of those metal buildings in back.
He started that way, and the cell phone on his belt rang.
“HELLO, KAT.” ANNIKA Lindstrom walked in, as calm as if she’d just arrived at the nursery to shop for the newest Papaver orientale hybrid. Her chinos held a crisp crease, and the striped shirt that she wore tucked in had the silky sheen of expensive cotton. Her blond hair was, as always, sleekly styled. Without looking away from Kat, Annika locked the door behind her, then pocketed the keys.
Kat backed away, her eyes fixed on the handgun Annika held.“I’m so glad you’ve woken up. I thought you deserved to know why I have to kill you. I was getting a little bit impatient, though. You were unconscious longer than I expected.”
And to think I accused Grant of being crazy, Kat thought. I didn’t know what crazy was. Mouth dry, gripping the tire iron with a hand that was trembling, she edged around the rear bumper of one of the shrouded cars. She had to try to keep a car between her and Annika.
“Nothing to say?” The other woman’s mouth twisted, making her, at that moment, ugly. “Did you always wonder whether Hugh might be alive? Or did you know?”
“I didn’t know.”
“He took that l
ittle slut to the same place we always met. I thought we were meeting, you see.” Annika passed Hugh’s truck, keeping pace with Kat’s retreat. “When I got home, I found a phone message. He’d cancelled. He blamed you. You were making a scene, he said. He couldn’t get away.”
Could she reason with Annika? Kat put one hand on the hood of her truck as she circled it. “He lied to both of us.”
“Why wouldn’t you let him go?” Annika asked, as if this was a reasonable conversation. “You knew he didn’t love you. Why try to hold on to a man who doesn’t want you?”
“He never asked for a divorce. I didn’t know—” Her voice cracked. “I wondered if he was seeing other women, but I didn’t know.”
Annika took a couple of shockingly quick steps to keep Kat in sight. “He fell in love with me. Me!”
Kat banged her shin on a bumper in her own hurried retreat. The pain barely registered. “No. He had affairs. Lots of affairs. You weren’t any different from the rest.”
“That’s not true. We were going to get married. As soon as you agreed to the divorce.”
“He lied,” Kat repeated.
Annika visibly calmed herself. “I felt sorry for you. After I found him with her. I felt sorry for both of us. But lately I realized that you didn’t love him at all. I mourned him, and you were glad he was gone.”
“No.” Could she throw the tire iron and have any hope of connecting with Annika’s head? This had to be the world’s most bizarre slow-motion chase, with the two of them doing figure eights around the garaged vehicles. “I wasn’t glad. I was never glad.”
“You liked being in charge of the nursery. Doing everything he dreamed of doing and taking credit for it.”
What if she dropped and shimmied underneath the truck? She could scramble fast and try to grab one of Annika’s legs. Kat edged around behind the truck as Annika circled the front.
“I finally knew at that awards banquet that you weren’t sorry at all about what you did to him. There you were, glorying in all that attention and exchanging significant looks with our police chief. You had an affair with him, didn’t you? And all the time you pretended your heart was breaking because Hugh wanted a divorce.”
“He never asked for one. I didn’t know.”
“You’re lying!” Annika shrieked, and lunged around the fender.
GRANT BARELY PAUSED TO TALK to one of his officers, Ernie Butler, who informed him that unfortunately Helen had been the last to actually see Kat. They couldn’t narrow down the time of her abduction any more closely. Hoping like hell Annika, if she was nearby, hadn’t heard his phone ring, Grant stowed it and ran. A narrow, paved drive passed behind the greenhouse and disappeared into an opening in the tall back hedge. When he rounded the hedge and the two metal garages came in sight, Grant saw the Camry parked in front of one. The hard kick of satisfaction he felt was followed by fear.
Let Kat be here. Let her be alive.The Camry was empty. Unlocked. He popped the trunk and found it empty, too, but for a single canvas gardening glove. He stared at it for a long, shattering moment. Then he saw the smear of blood on the custom-fitted rubber mat that covered the carpeted interior.
And he heard a woman’s voice. His head came up sharply. Was it coming from within the metal building?
A shot rang out. The bullet pinged on metal. He shouted, and heard an answering shout from inside.
KAT HAD SEEN THE INTENT in Annika’s eyes and thrown herself behind one of the shrouded cars just before the gun barked. The car vibrated when the bullet struck it.
Annika would be coming. Around the front or back? Kat made a decision and scrambled toward the front of the car.Did she hear a shout outside? How could that be? But she yelled, “Help!” and kept going.
The rush of footsteps came behind her. Kat turned and swung the tire iron as the gun went off again. She didn’t feel anything. She wasn’t sure she would even if she’d been shot. The tire iron connected with Annika’s shoulder and she lurched and dropped the gun. It skidded on the concrete floor. Kat thought of diving for it, but Annika was closer and already leaping toward it.
Kat took the chance and ran, yelling. Please let there be someone outside the garage, someone who’d heard the shots. But whoever it was wouldn’t be able to get in, she realized with despair.
She leaped into her truck, turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine roar to life. Emergency brake. Had to release it. The side window glass exploded and something smacked the seat inches from her head. She flung herself sideways and down at the same time as she pressed her foot hard on the accelerator. The truck leaped forward and slammed into metal.
IT TOOK BOTH HANDS TO OPERATE the bolt cutters. Grant had to set his Glock down. He didn’t quite have the padlock cut through when a vehicle inside started up and collided hard with the door.
Bang! Another shot. He was cursing as he applied all his strength.The garage door shuddered as the vehicle hit it again. There. The padlock fell loose. He pulled it off and lifted the garage door. As he did he grabbed his gun and threw himself to the side.
A black pickup truck exploded through the opening. From this angle, he couldn’t see anyone behind the wheel. Behind it ran a woman brandishing a handgun. She pulled the trigger and the bullet pinged on metal again. The rear window of the cab had already been shot out. Hell, the windshield, too. Had Kat fallen, dead or badly injured, her foot still jammed on the accelerator?
But just as he yelled, “Police! Drop the gun!” in his peripheral vision he saw taillights flash red.
Annika Lindstrom swung toward him, the gun pointing at him and her eyes insane.
Grant’s finger tightened, and he shot with deadly accuracy.
IN THE WAKE OF THE DEEP BARK of gunfire, the truck came to a stop, its nose buried in a yew hedge. Shaking, Kat crawled across the seat. If Annika was still coming after her, she should get out the far side. She wrestled the door open as the driver’s side one opened. Making animal sounds of panic, she tumbled out seconds after her eyes sent to her brain the message that it was Grant who had opened that door, not Annika.
Grant. He had found her. Saved her.He circled the truck so fast he was lifting her in his arms almost as soon as she hit the asphalt. At first all he seemed able to do was swear, but finally, as he held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, he said roughly, “Kat! Oh, God, Kat. Where are you hurt? I didn’t think I’d get here in time. I’ve never been so damned scared in my life. Tell me you’re all right.” He gave her a little shake.
“Annika. Where’s Annika?”
“Dead,” he said grimly. “I had to shoot her.”
She heard a siren in the distance. Then another joining it, like the howl of a coyote answering the first. She burrowed against his broad, strong body. “You came.”
A tremor ran through him. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think…?” He laid her down and knelt above her. Tears were running down her face. She couldn’t seem to help herself. “So damned scared,” he said again, his hands moving over her, astonishingly gentle. But the tremor hadn’t left him, and she saw the look in his eyes.
“I love you,” she said, and suddenly a siren blasted so close her whole body jerked. Then she and Grant were surrounded by a swarm of other police officers and emergency medical personnel.
Grant backed away and let the EMTs take his place at her side, but his gaze never left hers.
IT WAS EVENING BEFORE THEY had a chance to be alone. The doctor who saw Kat decided she was concussed and should spend the night at the hospital for observation. She had her various scrapes and bruises treated. A bullet had grazed her upper arm and left an ugly gash.
Because he had been involved in the shooting, Grant called in county law enforcement. Kat told her story several times to various detectives.Grant had followed her to the hospital and stayed with her until he was sure she was all right. He’d walked beside her wheelchair when they transported her upstairs to a room, a
nd bent over to give her a quick kiss once she was settled into bed.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. At the door he had stopped and taken another, long look at her. Her heart skipped a couple of beats at the expression on his face. She’d have sworn he’d aged years today. He’d torn the shoulder of his uniform shirt and skinned the back of one hand. But mostly it was the look in his eyes.
Kat stared helplessly back until he groaned, squeezed the back of his neck and departed.
Joan came and hovered, sitting with Kat and watching as she poked at the dinner an orderly brought. Helen and James both visited. Mike Hedin came by, but Joan drove him out of the room in short order.
“The nerve,” she muttered, coming back to plop herself again into the chair beside the bed.
“Come on,” Kat chided her. “How can you blame him? He’s a journalist, even if he will get scooped by all the dailies. Plus, he’s in the garden club.”
“I’ll bet the phone lines are burning up tonight.”
“Yes.” Kat pushed away the rolling table that held her meal. She wasn’t very hungry.
She’d been given a couple of pain pills earlier. She didn’t know what they were, but they had worked. They’d also left her feeling not-quite numb, but close. Wrapped in cotton batting.
Annika Lindstrom. The only passion she’d ever displayed was for her garden and the acquisition of a new perennial or rose that wasn’t yet widely available. Otherwise, she’d never been anything but poised and pleasant. Except now Kat knew; underneath, Annika had simmered with hurt and rage.
“I’m glad I didn’t kid myself that we were really friends,” Kat said aloud.
Joan grunted agreement. “I wonder if anybody really knew her.”
Bone Deep Page 21
