He didn’t hold out hope for Vivi or Michael. The most he could ask for was that they died quickly. Grief smashed him in the gut and threatened to bring him to his knees. Despite what his boss thought, Jed had learned to compartmentalize his feelings, to shove the humanity of the victims into a box where they wouldn’t invade his dreams. Hell, he dealt with nightmare scenarios on an almost-daily basis so he had to be able to detach to get the job done. He’d tried to stuff Vivi and Michael into one of those boxes. Failed.
This was personal.
He cared about the Vincents.
So maybe his boss was right. Maybe Jed wasn’t cut out for this job after all. Maybe some ice cold schmuck would be a better agent than he’d ever be.
Something suspiciously like tears burned the back of his eyes. No way was he breaking down in front of the others. He strode away, going through the back door and standing hands in pockets, inhaling large gulps of frigid air. Footprints led around to the front of the house, and off down toward the woods. Jed drew in a tight breath. Christ, the air was so cold it hurt to breathe, but he didn’t care. He felt numb.
He’d been attracted to Vivi, her beauty, her vivid hair, her take-no-bullshit attitude. He’d seen the stark vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. And he really liked her kid. The boy was brave and sweet.
He pressed his lips together, fighting emotions. Get a hold, Brennan. Do your fucking job. He’d lost people before—Bobby, Mia. She’d died on base and the Army had been willing to sweep her murder under the carpet until he’d contacted Quantico and persuaded them a serial killer was at work. He hadn’t let go of the case until Lincoln Frazer had actually arrested the guy. His tenacity made him a good agent, but his need for results meant he could never let anything go—hence his never-ending workload and barren personal life.
He went back inside, glanced into the garage and did a quick walk through. There were two cars parked. An SUV and a sedan. He walked around both vehicles. There were no bullet holes in here. Didn’t look like the bad guys had made it inside this area. Pulling on a latex glove he touched the garage door opener and the door rattled open. He checked the snow on the driveway. Although it had been shoveled earlier, a tiny sprinkling of fresh snow was enough to tell him no one had entered or left this way. He went back inside and closed the massive double garage door. He flicked off the light.
A muffled thump made him pause.
Had that come from upstairs?
He shook his head, deciding it was his imagination. Then he heard it again and froze. The noise was coming from the trunk of the silver sedan. He drew his weapon and slipped off his shoes so he could move silently over concrete that was fuck-me freezing.
He stood off to one side, touched the trunk’s latch and squeezed, keeping his gun trained on the center of the space, finger on the trigger.
A pale face dominated by massive blue eyes met his. Big ass Beretta clasped in her shaking hand pointed in his direction. Vivi. And behind her a lump of blanket squirmed. Michael. They were safe. They were alive.
She lowered the gun. “I think they found us, Jed.”
CHAPTER TEN
Putting his weapon back in his holster, he leaned inside, cradled her head in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. Her lips were icy cold, and tasted of sweet coffee and tears. She clung to him, obviously terrified from her ordeal. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, just long enough for him to remember she was a witness and this was unprofessional, but she tasted so damn good it was a shame he’d never be able to do it again. He pulled away. Then hugged her, squeezing tight. “Jesus Christ, you scared me.”
She shook so violently her bones rattled inside his embrace.
It took a full thirty seconds for him to let go.
“Are the marshals…?” Her voice trembled. The question was left unfinished, her glance cut toward Michael.
Dead?
He nodded.
“How did they find us?”
That question brought Jed up short. How had they found them? Had they followed the doctor? Maybe. Or was there a leak inside one of the many law enforcement departments involved in this whole terrorist investigation?
“I don’t know.” They were both whispering. He heard people talking inside the house and made a quick decision. One that would probably get him fired from a job he loved. Hell, it might get him arrested, but he didn’t see any alternative that would keep Vivi and Michael safe. “I’m going to open the garage door. My car is parked right there. I’m going to leave the rear door open to help block you from sight. You guys throw yourself on the floor of the back seat and keep covered with this blanket. Don’t let anyone see you.”
Vivi’s eyes had dark smudges beneath them. Her forehead furrowed.
“Can you manage him?” Jed pointed to Michael.
“Of course.” Like she’d ever admit anything else.
He closed the door into the house, flipped the lock, and slipped his shoes back on. Then he jogged back and helped her climb out of the trunk. It wasn’t as easy as it looked and he lifted her carefully, placing her gently onto the floor while she found her feet. She only came up to his chin, her frame as fragile as spun glass beneath his palms. “I’d give you my shoes if it wouldn’t raise suspicion.”
Her lips formed a heart-breaking smile. She and her son had been through hell the last few days, cold feet were the least of her problems.
“You’ve done enough.”
Hardly. So far he’d failed in his promise and almost gotten her killed.
He tugged Michael out of the trunk and wrapped him up in the blanket, then handed him over to his mom. “Stay in the corner over there while I check that it’s clear outside. If anyone’s outside I’ll try and redirect them. Bottom line is I don’t want anyone knowing you guys are alive. Not yet.”
She didn’t ask why. Maybe she’d already figured it out. He raised the door again, then made a show of getting something out of the rear seat of his SUV, before heading back into the garage and leaving the car door wide open. Vivi hopped quickly into the SUV and disappeared. He came back and slammed the door shut, obliterating her footprints as he went. He headed back inside, closed the garage door and unlatched the door into the house to allay any suspicion. Then he put his cell to his ear and made it sound like he was being ordered back to headquarters. Killion was thankfully upstairs taking photographs.
Jed went out the front door. A team of marshals was unloading from a work van. Keene and Townsend—the marshals from last night—climbed out, both looking shaken and pissed. If the attack had occurred earlier it could have been them cooling on the safe house floor. That knowledge combined with the loss of friends and colleagues was bound to haunt them, not to mention the US Marshal Service hated to lose witnesses. If they found out he’d whisked Michael and Vivi away without telling them they’d lynch him.
But his life expectancy wasn’t the issue.
He climbed into the driver’s seat of his SUV and gave them a tight-lipped nod.
“Keep low,” he muttered as he headed up the driveway through a cavalcade of law enforcement and emergency vehicles. The rear windows were tinted. Still, his heart thudded against his ribs at the thought of someone spotting them. He expected to be exposed every time someone glanced his way, but by the time he reached the main road no one was even looking at him anymore.
He called headquarters and asked for an update on roadblocks, found out exactly where they were all located. Now he could avoid them.
He glanced in the rearview but he couldn’t see either Vivi or Michael. “I wish I could tell you to sit up front, but I think until we get where we’re going you need to keep out of sight. You could probably lie on the backseat though.” He heard the rustle of blankets and Vivi tried to coax Michael off the floor but he wouldn’t move. She was getting increasingly agitated.
“Vivi, leave him. He’s not hurting down there. You just lie down and try to get comfortable. Drag my parka from the trunk.” His cell rang. Killion. “I be
tter take this. Don’t say anything, OK?”
His eyes met hers in the mirror for a moment. She looked brittle and shaken. White-faced with fear. He’d promised her she’d be safe and look what happened. Two dead marshals and no clue as to who was behind this thing.
Knowing he needed to be on his game to fool Killion he turned his eyes back to the road and imagined Vivi and Michael dead in a pool of blood. Suddenly the thought of lying to the guy wasn’t so difficult.
***
Marie Thomas lived in the Camden area of Minneapolis in a rundown bungalow that hearkened back to the 1950s. White, wooden siding had long since grayed and started to flake; mint green trim was faded and streaked with grime. The front three steps and sidewalk had been carefully shoveled, though the concrete of was pitted and starting to crumble.
There was no one out on the street. Everyone was tucked up inside which suited Pilah’s plans perfectly. She carried a clipboard and wore a black, wool coat over a black pant suit, both of which she’d found in a local thrift store. She kept her head down because you never knew where surveillance cameras were although this wasn’t the sort of neighborhood where people installed them on their property.
She pressed the buzzer, then wiped the button with her cuff.
Dogs barked inside. Crap. She hadn’t planned on dogs. Heavy footsteps. A woman came to the door. She had the worn-out face of someone who’d worked long and hard and knew she wouldn’t get a break any time soon. Wrinkles radiated from her eyes as she smiled. “Yes? What can I do for you?”
Music played on the radio in the background.
“Mrs. Thomas?” Pilah asked.
“Ms.” The woman corrected firmly.
Good. “My name is Pat Jones. I’m from County Hospital where your uncle was admitted?”
The woman sagged against the door frame. “Poor Uncle Billy.” She checked her wristwatch. “I was hoping to get down there after work but I’m too tired now.” She wiped her hair out of her eyes. “Come on in out of the cold.”
Pilah accepted gratefully.
“Down Rhett. Down Ginger!” Both dogs stopped jumping and stood wagging their tails. “Don’t worry about them. They’re friendly.”
Pilah’s stomach clenched. She did not want to do this. Why the hell was she doing this? “What do you do for a living, Ms. Thomas?”
“Oh, God, I’m not going to get hit with all his medical expenses am I?” She dragged a hand through her bleached, blond hair. “I don’t make that sort of money.”
“No, ma’am. Your uncle had insurance.” If he didn’t Sargon would probably foot the bill himself. Irony in its highest form. She didn’t know what he planned to do to the man but it couldn’t be good.
“Thank Christ for that. Come on through to the kitchen. I left the stove on.”
Pilah touched the dogs’ heads as she followed their mistress into the kitchen. They were sweet pooches. What would happen to them if anything happened to Marie? She couldn’t afford to care. Her hands shook and she stuffed them inside her pocket, her right hand clasping the gun Abdullah had left in her glove box.
“I’m going to go down to the hospital tomorrow. I’ve got a few days off.”
Which meant her cover would be blown as soon as Marie spoke to the nurse. “What is it you do?” Pilah asked.
“I work at the Y, running youth programs.”
Pilah’s palms grew sweaty and she wiped them on her thigh. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
The woman’s scrawny shoulders shrugged beneath a cheap sweater. “I like it.”
“Does Mr. Green have other relatives or close friends we should contact?”
“There’s just him left on that side of the family. His wife died and they never had kids. I don’t know his friends. Why do you want to know?” The eyes were speculative now.
The hourly news came on the radio. The lead story made her stiffen. The redheaded boy and his mother were missing after an attack on the safe house. Cops were looking for them. The danger was intensifying. The threat of failure increasing with every loose-end.
She snapped herself back to this worn-out woman and her modest little kitchen. “He’s going to need some extra care when he first gets out of the hospital. We are doing a trial program where we try and get input from relatives before release to make sure everything is in place ahead of time.” Pilah put her hand back in her pocket. If she allowed herself to think about this she’d never go through with it and her children would be sacrificed. Adad’s calming voice tried to soothe her. She shook him out of her head. Stupid man.
Marie Thomas flipped an egg in the pan. “It’s just me and frankly, we aren’t close. But the guy got shot so I want to be there for him—”
Pilah gripped the pistol in her right hand and squeezed the trigger. The gun fired through her coat pocket and hit the woman in the stomach. The dogs started barking.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Marie dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor. Blood ran through her fingers as she pressed her hands to the wound.
“I am so sorry.”
The woman crashed forward and lay still. Pilah closed her eyes and drew out a long breath. The dogs continued to bark in confusion and fear. Forgive me.
“Hush now, hush.” She crouched and both animals came towards her, uncertain. They didn’t understand what had happened. Her stomach churned. She didn’t understand it herself. Once they started wagging their tails she petted them for a moment and then stood up. She couldn’t linger too long; someone might report the noise.
She saw Marie’s purse on the table and took her wallet, slipping it into her pocket.
Pilah used her sleeve to turn off the gas burner, then noted the empty dog bowls. She opened the pantry door and found a big, plastic canister of food. She gave each dog four big scoops of dried kibble, enough to last a few days. Then she pulled the curtains and blinds, wiped her prints off everything she thought she’d touched. The radio played loudly enough to be heard, but not loudly enough to cause complaint. She left the hallway light on.
With any luck it would be a few days before anyone noticed the body and no one would connect this woman to the events at the mall.
Pilah let herself out, keeping her face tucked into her collar as she strode away. She’d never expected to become a killer, but the act got easier with practice. Or maybe she was dying on the inside, slowly and surely every time she took a life, until nothing of worth remained.
There was very little of worth left now. Just the tiny hope she could somehow keep her daughters alive.
***
Vivi pulled out the pistol she’d tucked into her waistband and placed it on the seat beside her. She didn’t like guns, especially didn’t like them around Michael. He was only eight. He didn’t always make the most sensible choices. Or maybe they seemed sensible when you were eight, which didn’t necessarily jive with the thoughts of the rest of the population.
She listened to Brennan’s side of the conversation with the intelligence officer as he lied his ass off. He should have been an actor.
“Where am I going? What are you, my fucking mother?” His words were punchy and disrespectful. Exactly how he should sound if a witness he’d placed in a protective custody went missing, presumed dead. She winced at his crude language in front of Michael but at the same time knew he had to act natural. Plus, cuss words were pretty low on the list of priorities after two days dodging bloodshed and bullets.
“No way, Mr. CIA. I’m done. I’m doing what my boss originally told me to do four days ago. Taking time off so I can keep on doing this job without my head exploding. Is that OK with you or would you like a doctor’s note?”
There was another pause. The guy wasn’t giving up. “Not my fault? I know it wasn’t my fault but I promised them they’d be safe and now they’re—” He cut himself off as though he couldn’t bear to say anything else.
It was a masterful performance and momentary panic hit her. Could Jed be in league with the ter
rorists? Then she remembered how he’d saved her when cornered in that restaurant kitchen during the mall attack.
Unknown forces were out to get them and, despite her ingrained reticence, if she didn’t allow herself to trust this man, the chances were she and Michael would be dead by morning. If there was one person she believed would keep his word in this whole awful nightmare, it was Jed Brennan. And Vivi would do anything and everything she had to in order to ensure her son was safe.
“Look, Killion, it’s been fun, but I’m done. Find someone else to latch on to and chauffeur you ’round the place. ” His breathing was ragged as if he really believed them to be dead. “If you find them…you can reach me on this number to let me know or email, just…no pictures, all right?”
Killion said something she couldn’t hear. Brennan hung up and caught her gaze in the mirror. There was a lot going on in those dark eyes, none of it good. Two marshals were dead. So was one of the most respected neuroscientists in the country.
“This is all my fault.” She slumped back against the seat.
“Because you invited Hinkle out there?”
“Yes.” She looked at him then, ready for recriminations. It had all happened at her insistence.
Jed shrugged. “He was mentioned in the news article, so it’s possible they put a tail on him on the off-chance you’d want to see him again. Not a bad idea considering Michael’s problems.”
That’s what she should have figured out before she’d asked to see him. Her throat felt as if someone was inside trying to climb out with a grappling hook. Oh, God, how many people were involved in this group? How could they ever be safe?
“Vivi.” Brennan’s stern tone snapped her out of her panic. “It’s also possible there might be a mole somewhere inside law enforcement, feeding the bad guys information. In which case it’s my fault.” He concentrated on the road for a moment letting the words sink in. “Honestly? I don’t know who to trust.”
Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) Page 13
