by CW Browning
“What’s that?”
“The victims were friendly with a man in their building. When I showed them Trent’s picture, the one recognized him. The other said she never saw him but she knew the name was Trent. Both victims really liked him and thought he was a nice, sweet guy. Now, that in itself isn’t much.”
“It’s not,” Stephanie agreed. “So they knew him. He lived in their building, after all.”
“It gets better,” Lenny assured her. “Turns out both victims ended up having a problem with their garbage disposals. Guess who offered to help?”
“The sweet, nice neighbor?”
“Bingo. He was very helpful. They were both thrilled not to have to call a plumber or handyman. But here’s the best part. When police interviewed everyone in the buildings after the disappearances, Trent denied ever having met either of them. His statements claim he was rarely home because he traveled extensively for work.”
“That’s not enough to hang him, but it’s a start. What about the other two victims?”
“I’m checking them out tomorrow. I’ll let you know what I find out. I just wanted to let you know you were onto something. I hope it helps.”
“It does. Thank you!”
Stephanie disconnected and stared across the room frowning.
“What’s wrong?” Blake asked, looking up from his tablet.
“That was Agent Thomas from Miami,” she said, setting the phone down on the bed beside her. “I called him yesterday. Turns out this Trent character has lived in four different condos in the past four years.”
“He’s having trouble settling on one?”
“Apparently. The weird part is that in each of those four buildings, a woman disappeared in the year he was there.”
Blake frowned.
“That seems a little coincidental.”
“Exactly. So I asked Lenny to look at the files and see what he could find out,” said Stephanie, reaching for a bottle of water on the table next to her. “He did even better. Today he actually talked to friends of two of the victims. Turns out both victims knew Trent, and liked him. He fixed both their garbage disposals for them.”
“What a nice guy.”
“Yep. A real stand-up neighbor. Except when the police interviewed everyone in the buildings, he said he never met either of the victims.”
“And that’s where it unravels,” said Blake. “They always do something stupid, like lie about something that’s easy to check. Did the police ever find the women?”
“Yes. Their bodies turned up months later.”
Blake shook his head with a frown.
“And there are no leads at all?”
“Nope. All four murders are still unsolved.”
“If we presume Trent is the killer, and that he’s targeted Angela, why change his MO now? Why target someone who lives states away? That makes no sense.”
“I know.” Stephanie sighed, capping her water. “None of it makes sense, but something isn’t adding up, and he’s right in the middle of it.”
“You have to tell Michael,” said Blake. “They should know what we’re thinking.”
Stephanie nodded and reached for her phone.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ll call Lina. She’s the one who asked me to see what I could learn about Trent.”
Blake raised an eyebrow.
“She did? When was this?”
“The other night. She stopped by to see me.”
Blake watched as she lifted the phone back to her ear.
“I’m a little surprised she asked for your help.”
“I’m not,” said Stephanie, glancing at him. “As much as she hates to admit it, she’s only one person and she can’t do everything alone.”
“From what I’ve seen, that doesn’t stop her from trying.”
“True enough, but something’s changed. I’m not sure what, but she’s changed. She’s being more distant and focused. This is how she was when she first came back, only it’s worse than it was last year.”
Blake considered her thoughtfully.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, really. It’s just a gut feeling I got when she was here the other night. I can’t really explain it.” Stephanie lowered the phone. “She’s not answering. I’ll try again in a few minutes.”
“Do you think she’s working on another terrorist attack?”
Stephanie shrugged.
“I don’t know. She’s working on something, and I think it’s tied in with John, but who knows.”
Blake frowned.
“What the hell did John get himself into?”
Stephanie looked at him.
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself for the past three days.”
Damon walked into the kitchen, glancing at Angela. She was bent over her laptop in the dining room. He’d give her this: she worked hard. She’d been on the phone for most of the afternoon, alternating between the laptop and pacing.
“You almost done for the day?” he asked. “It’s five-thirty.”
“I’m just finishing up,” she said with a yawn. “That last call just about killed me. It was a forty-minute conference call that could have been a one paragraph email.”
Damon grimaced and opened the fridge to look inside. He was so glad his job did not involve conference calls. For that matter, calls of any kind were rare in his profession. His lips curved suddenly in amusement. What would Viper do on a conference call? God help them all!
“Any idea when Lina will be back?” Angela asked, closing her laptop and standing up to stretch. “What are we doing about dinner?”
“No, and I don’t know,” he said. “There’s a bunch of food leftover from last night.”
Angela visibly brightened and rounded the bar to join him at the fridge.
“I’ll reheat the chicken parm,” she decided, reaching for the large aluminum tray of chicken and spaghetti. “Do you want some?”
“I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.”
Angela set the tray on the stovetop, reaching over to preheat the oven. She jumped when a loud tone echoed through the house.
“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, staring at the stove as if it was a bomb. “Why is the oven so freaking loud?!”
“It’s not the oven,” Damon said grimly, striding over to the cabinet where Viper kept the tablet that was hooked into the security system. “That’s the security perimeter.”
“Why is it on?” Angela demanded, spinning around and looking up at the dark plasma above the mantel in the living room.
“I set it after she left,” Damon said shortly, pulling out the tablet and swiping the screen.
“You know how to use it? Why?”
“Because I have a similar one at my house. Go pull the curtains over the windows in the dining room and across the sliding door.”
Angela gaped at him.
“What? Why?”
He glanced at her and she shivered at the look on his face, hurrying to do as he’d asked without another word.
Hawk scrolled through the security quadrants quickly. After Viper had left, he set all the perimeter alarms except the driveway, knowing that when Viper or Michael returned, they would come that way. Whatever set the security system off, it was not them. He stopped when he came to the quadrant flashing on the east side of the woods.
“It’s done,” Angela said from the living room. “Now what?”
He tapped the flashing area and began scanning through the frames slowly.
“Come away from the windows,” he said absently.
Angela came over to the bar and watched as he studied the tablet.
“It’s not Alina or Michael?” she asked. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Hawk stopped when he saw the figure moving through the trees.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “He just doesn’t give up.”
Angela stared at him.
“It’s him, isn’t it?
It’s Trent.”
“Yes.” Damon looked up and she shivered again. “And he came prepared this time.”
Hawk set the tablet down and strode across the living room to the fireplace. Angela watched him reach up into the chimney and gasped when he pulled out a sawed-off shotgun.
“What do you mean he came prepared?” she demanded.
“He’s armed,” he said shortly, opening a wooden box on the mantle and pulling out a handful of shotgun shells. He fed two into the barrel, snapping it closed with a practiced flick of his strong wrist. He dropped the rest of the shells into one of his pockets and headed for the sliding door. “Stay here. Stay away from the windows and keep this door locked until I get back. I’ll knock once, then twice. Don’t open that door for anything else.”
“Wait!” Angela cried, running after him. “What if he’s not alone?”
“He is.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I just told you.” Hawk moved the curtain and slid open the door. “I won’t be long.”
“Wait!” Angela called again.
He paused and looked back impatiently.
“What?”
“For God’s sake, be careful! Alina will kill me if anything happens to you!”
His lips twitched.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. She’s head over heels for you, you stupid man. I swear, the two of you are trying my last nerve!”
That made Damon grin as he turned to step out the door.
“I’ll be sure to tell her,” he said. “Lock this behind me, then get into the hallway and stay there with your back to the wall. I’ll be back soon.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hawk moved through the trees swiftly and silently, the shotgun in his hands. His heart beat steadily, settling into a rhythm as he moved to intercept Trent. Angela was worried about what Alina would do if he got hurt. Hawk’s lips tightened and he glanced up into the trees. He was more worried about what she would do if Trent used the gun he was carrying on her bird. He had to get to him before Raven realized he was back.
The light was fading and the shadows were deepening quickly as he moved through the underbrush, making no sound. He paused, listening, and went forward again. A moment later, he heard a branch pop about twenty yards to his left. Hawk moved and caught sight of Trent a moment later, picking his way slowly through the trees, coming towards him.
Hawk stood silently behind a tree, waiting as the man walked a few feet past him. He moved then, silently approaching him from behind. A loud screech rent the air and Hawk stifled a sigh. Raven was here.
Trent raised his arm, his gun aimed directly at the black mass diving out of the trees.
Hawk moved like lightening to close the distance between them, one eye on the descending hawk and one eye on Trent. He brought his right forearm down hard on Trent’s arm, forcing it aside just as Trent pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed deafeningly through the trees and Raven shrieked. Trent swung around and Hawk’s hand clamped around his throat. He glanced up in time to see Raven disappear into a tree and he turned his cold, blue eyes back to Trent.
“You’re lucky you missed the bird,” he growled.
Trent snarled and tried to raise his gun as Hawk slammed the butt of the shotgun into his wrist. The gun went flying into the underbrush as the joint audibly cracked. A second later, Hawk’s right fist landed solidly in his gut. He grunted and doubled over, the wind knocked out of him with the force of the blow. As he did, Hawk sliced his hand into the side of his neck. Trent let out a strangled cry of pain and Hawk brought his elbow down on his temple swiftly.
Trent fell forward to the ground, unconscious.
Hawk bent over him and pulled the high turtleneck away from his neck. His lips thinned grimly when he saw the thick gauze bandage taped to the side of his neck. Releasing the sweater, he straightened up and stared down at the unconscious man at his feet.
Trent Whitfield had certainly seen better days. He looked like the walking wounded. Aside from the bandage on his neck, he had staples in his head and bandages covered his forearm. Now, thanks to Hawk, he also had a broken wrist, and would have a concussion if he ever came to.
Damon leaned the shotgun against a nearby tree and sighed. He had to move him and, by the looks of it, Trent was no light-weight. The branches in the trees above rustled suddenly and Raven glided by to perch on the lower branches of a pine tree. His shiny black eyes looked at Damon and he bobbed his head.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I did it for her, not you.”
Raven shook out his feathers and stared at him, undisturbed. Damon shook his head and bent down to hoist Trent’s inanimate form over his shoulder. Pain ripped through his side and shot up his ribcage. Hawk grimaced, dropping Trent with a low curse. Clearly, he wasn’t moving him anywhere. He wasn’t healed enough to lug two-hundred plus in dead weight anywhere without causing more damage than it was worth.
Damon glared at the unconscious man, frustrated by his inability to clean up his own mess. Finally, he bent down and undid the belt around Trent’s waist, pulling it off and testing it. It was a good, strong, leather belt. He glanced at the shoes on Trent’s feet and nodded when he saw the laces. He’d worked with less. It only had to hold until Viper returned.
Five minutes later, Trent was tied upright to a slim but sturdy tree. The leather belt was secured around his middle, while his hands were tied to the tree above his head with one of the shoe laces. The other shoe lace secured his feet to the base of the tree trunk. Damon stepped back, breathing heavily, to survey his handiwork. He didn’t have a gag, but he supposed it wouldn’t matter. If Trent woke up before Viper got back, the odds were low on anyone hearing him. The road was over a quarter mile away, and the nearest house was Viper’s.
Hawk turned to leave, grabbing the shotgun as he passed it. He strode over to the underbrush where Trent’s pistol landed, bending to pick that up as well. As he walked away, Hawk glanced back to see Raven still sitting on the low branch, his black eyes on the unconscious Trent.
Damon grinned.
God help him if he woke up and tried to move while Raven was there.
Alina pulled the Shelby around the house, the tires crunching on gravel, and the engine growling low. She pulled up beside the detached garage and cut the engine, getting out of the low car as a loud rumble preceded Michael’s F150. It pulled around the house and Alina watched as he pulled the truck up next to her Mustang. Walking around the back of the black pickup, she waited for him to get out of the cab.
“You’re just getting back?” she asked as he climbed out.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling his laptop from behind the driver’s seat and slamming the door. “It was a long day. How about you?”
“No one got shot, so I guess that’s a good day,” she replied, turning to walk across the grass with him. “Everything ok in DC?”
Michael glanced down at her.
“Yes, for now,” he said. “Damon told you what it was all about?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then you know it’s no coincidence Trent came after Angela,” Michael said in a low voice as they mounted the steps to the deck.
Alina’s face hardened.
“Oh, I know.”
Before Michael could say anything, the sliding door slid open and Angela flew out.
“Thank God you’re both here!” she exclaimed. “He came back! Trent came back!”
Alina and Michael stared at her.
“What?!”
“Where is he?”
They spoke in unison and Angela looked from one to the other.
“It’s all over now, but I was terrified,” she admitted, leading them into the house. “Damon made me stay inside and told me to stay in the hallway, away from the windows.”
Damon looked up from where he was stretched out on the couch.
“It was the safest place,” he said, sitting up. “He was neve
r going to get this far, but better safe than dead.”
Alina watched as he stood up slowly, almost painfully, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Her gaze dropped to his side and she strode forward, rounding the end of the sofa. Reaching out, she lifted up his tee-shirt before he could stop her and an ice pack fell to the floor at their feet. Her eyes raised to meet his.
“What the hell did you do?” she demanded.
“Nothing a little ice won’t fix,” he retorted, starting to bend down for the ice pack.
She beat him to it, swiping it up and pushing him back down on the couch.
“Sit,” she commanded, handing him the ice.
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked, staring at them. “Why are you so worried about a little bruise?”
Alina glanced at her.
“It’s not a little bruise,” she replied, turning to cross over to the bar. “He just had surgery and he has a cracked rib.”
Alina dropped her keys onto the bar and rounded the island to go to the fridge.
“What!?” Angela swung around to glare at Damon. “I didn’t know! I wouldn’t have let you go out there if I knew that!”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t know.”
Michael grinned at the look on her face and went over to sit in the recliner.
“I don’t think that’s what she wanted to hear,” he said.
“Did you know?” Angela demanded, turning her attention on him.
“Yes.”
She threw her hands up in the air and made a noise suspiciously like a hiss.
“Why am I always the last one to know everything?!” she cried. “And why did you go after Trent if you knew you were hurt?”
Her fiery gaze went back to Damon and he shrugged.
“I’m fine,” he said. “He needed to be handled.”
“And?” Michael prompted before Angela could respond. “What happened?”
“He was handled.”
“Where is he?” Alina asked again, joining them all in the living room and handing Damon a bottle of water and two liquid gel capsules. “Don’t argue, just take it.”
He grinned and took the Advil, tossing them back with the water, his blue eyes never leaving her face. Alina wasn’t sure how she felt about the look in those eyes.
