Say Goodbye

by Karen Rose

  “Baby, you’re swaying on your feet.” She led him to the table and pushed him into a chair. “What do you want to do first? Food or sleep?”

  He patted his knee and she sat on his lap and kissed him. “That’s all I could think about, all the way here,” he murmured.

  She kissed him again, then rested her head on his shoulder. “How bad was it? From the news reports, it looked awful.”

  “Nobody died,” he said. “Which was a miracle. That fucking asshole threw fucking dynamite into fucking traffic.” She pulled his tie free of his collar, the movement more caring than sexual. “Ten people were taken to the hospital. Three serious, one critical. The critical one wasn’t in the blast. She was shot.”

  “The minivan owner.”

  “Yeah.” Tom wasn’t sure what the news had covered and what it hadn’t. He’d been too busy at the scene and then in a marathon team meeting in Raeburn’s conference room. “He was in too much of a hurry to double-tap her like he’s done with his other victims.”

  She unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, allowing him to breathe. “At least you found her in time.”

  “True.” Two of the cars tailing DJ Belmont had finally managed to get free of the traffic disaster, only to find DJ in the wind once again. He’d abandoned the Honda Civic that he’d stolen from Kathy McGrail on Saturday night and taken the woman’s minivan.

  “Do you know where he is?” she asked cautiously.

  “No. He ditched the minivan for a laundry truck, then traded that for a really old pickup without GPS. He’s in the wind. Again.”

  “He was so close,” she murmured. “Just around the corner. Karl and Irina knew Mr. Smythe, but only to wave when they were out walking.”

  “His wife is angry.”

  “I can see why,” she said.

  “Not with DJ. Well, not only with DJ,” he amended. “She’s furious with Karl and Irina for welcoming ‘troublemakers’ into their home.”

  Liza immediately scowled. “What the hell?”

  He shrugged wearily. “I know. It was a very unpleasant conversation. She arrived home when I was still at her house, before I got called to the scene of the blast. She was . . . incensed.”

  “She’s in shock, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not looking forward to the interviews she’s already threatening to give to the news. Karl and Irina don’t deserve any of that.”

  “Should we warn them?”

  “Raeburn will, so that it’ll be official and on the record. He’s supposed to call them tonight.”

  “I think he did already. Karl excused himself from the movie to take a call right about the same time that I heard you opening the garage door.” She stroked his hair off his forehead, gentle little caresses. “There was also a report about a disturbance at another house nearby. A robbery with several homicides. The reports didn’t say it was DJ, but it was, wasn’t it? Was that the call you got from Croft this morning?”

  He nodded. “The homeowner’s a leader in the Chicos.”

  Her eyes widened. “DJ’s tattoo that Abigail saw. Is that where DJ got the dynamite?”

  “And several rifles and handguns and ammo.” He sighed. “I didn’t know the news was reporting that. Normally I’m on top of coverage, but today it’s been one thing after another. What else are they saying?”

  “Not that there was a gang connection, but they did say the homeowner and his family are missing. They speculated that it might be a ransom situation.”

  Tom thought about the way Angelina Ward had left her devices neatly stacked on the kitchen counter. “Unlikely. But I am concerned about his wife and kids.”

  “There was one more murder reported. A teacher at a private school here in Granite Bay.”

  He sighed again. “What did the media say about her?”

  “At first only that her body was found. There was some talk from her friends that she’d had a bad breakup, and some thought that her ex could have done it. Later, though, when parents at the school heard about the ‘disturbance’ at the Wards’ home, and that the family was missing, they put it together that one of the Ward children was in the dead teacher’s class.”

  “Busy day for the media,” Tom muttered.

  “Did DJ kill her, too?”

  “Croft is working that case. She thinks so.” He stopped himself before he said his next words, which would have been I do, too, because the man is a murderer and you’re walking into Sunnyside tomorrow like a lamb to slaughter. Please don’t do it.

  But he didn’t, because she’d known DJ was a murderer when she’d agreed to the job. That he’d killed more people wasn’t going to change her mind.

  If anything, it would strengthen her resolve. So he bit the words back, even though he was screaming inside. “Can we not talk about this right now? I just want to hold you, okay?”

  “More than okay.”

  She sat on his lap, giving him the closeness he’d needed—until his stomach growled loudly. She pushed to her feet. “Let me feed you.”

  Tom guessed that the food he ate was delicious, but he barely tasted it. It was as if all the sleepless nights had finally hit him like a freight train.

  And he still hadn’t gained access to Sunnyside’s security network. He could shut down the network he had, but that was mostly e-mail and databases for employees and patients. He didn’t want to damage the patient records. Patients included drug lords and their families, but there were also celebrities and their families—innocent people receiving care.

  It was ingenious, really. Sunnyside Oaks was a legal, licensed facility where criminals had been successfully hidden among the legit patients who required discretion. Perhaps Sunnyside would even use the legit patients as a shield should they be discovered. The lives of those legit patients had to be protected.

  They needed to proceed with extreme care.

  So he’d convinced Raeburn to allow him to join the agents in the back of the surveillance van. Raeburn hadn’t wanted him to, because he feared Tom was too close to the case now that Liza was involved. Tom hadn’t let anyone at the Bureau office know that he and Liza were involved romantically as well. That would have gotten him tossed off the case for sure.

  “I’ll be in the surveillance van tomorrow morning,” he told her after he’d eaten. “I can at least hack into their Wi-Fi cameras, but most, if not all, are probably hardwired. Until I can manufacture a network crisis, we can’t touch the hardwired cameras or the alarm systems.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she told him. “Although I am relieved that you’ll be close.”

  “So will Rafe. He’s going to be in the SUV you’re borrowing from Karl. I’m going to smuggle you back into the parking garage of your apartment in time for you two to switch vehicles and leave.”

  “Does Raeburn know?”

  “No. I know I should tell him.” He’d felt guilty about it all damn day. But not guilty enough to tell him. “Rafe knows that and he’s still okay with helping. He’s so grateful that you’re doing this for Mercy.”

  “Mercy doesn’t know,” she murmured.

  “Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Agreed.” She put his dishes in the dishwasher, then tugged him to his feet. “Come on. You need to sleep.”

  “I need you.”

  “I’ll be right there with you.” They walked up the stairs, Pebbles behind them. “This room is ours for tonight.”

  He stripped to his boxer briefs and slid between the sheets, happy when she stripped as well.

  She noted him watching and winked. “I’m going to take care of you. On your stomach.”

  His libido flared, then waned. He grimaced, embarrassed. “I never thought I’d be too tired.”

  “Hush,” she said again, surprising him when she straddled his upper thighs. “ ‘Taking care of you’ wasn’t a euphemism
for sex.”

  Then he groaned when she began massaging his back, long strokes that felt so damn good.

  She chuckled. “Keep groaning like that and everyone will believe that’s what we’re doing.”

  “Like they don’t already,” he murmured, already relaxing. “They probably have a betting pool for that, too.”

  “Probably,” she said and he could hear her smile.

  This . . . This was good. Too good. Fear lanced his mind, making him tense up. Please don’t let her get hurt. Please just let me have this. Have her.

  “You’re thinking,” she chided quietly. “You went all tense just now. I guess I’m going to have to work harder.”

  She did, giving all the muscles in his back attention before scooting lower, tugging his boxers off to work on his buttocks.

  “Hmmmm.” His body was starting to wake up, but his brain wasn’t cooperating now. He felt floaty.

  “Let go, Tom,” he heard her say. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  He must have needed the words, because they were the last ones he remembered hearing before sleep finally claimed him.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

  MONDAY, MAY 29, 8:30 P.M.

  Nurse Innes met DJ when he came in through Sunnyside’s employee entrance. Once again, she held a mask. This time he took it, wearing it without complaint.

  “You get only one ambulance ride,” she said as they walked to Pastor’s suite. “You can say goodbye to your dad, but you can’t stay here for long. The target on your back is too big.”

  His day had sucked, ending with his finally making a call to Nurse Innes when he got close to Sunnyside in the fourth of the vehicles he’d stolen that day. Afraid that Kowalski would be waiting for him in retaliation for the weapons he’d stolen and the men he’d killed, he’d asked the nurse for help getting into the facility unseen.

  Innes had sent an ambulance for him and he’d had to ride in the back. But it had worked. If Kowalski had been waiting for him outside, he’d missed him. At least the Feds didn’t know about this place. If they had, he’d never have risked it.

  But they didn’t know about Sunnyside, so it was the safest place for him at the moment. He’d changed vehicles four times after fleeing from the strip mall. He’d dumped the Civic for the minivan, then stolen a laundry truck before trading it for an old pickup.

  The pickup had been too old to have GPS, but it was in bad shape and might not make it up the mountain when he got ready to return to Eden. But while driving it, he’d noticed an older Ford Explorer that looked rugged enough to handle the steep, curvy inclines. The Explorer had wandered in and out of its lane, its driver clearly drunk.

  Finally, it had pulled behind a small church not too far from Sunnyside Oaks. The church’s windows were dark, its parking lot deserted.

  Curious, DJ had followed. And hit pay dirt. The driver had stumbled out of the vehicle, unzipping his pants and peeing on the grass at the edge of the parking lot. He’d stumbled again, slipped on the puddle of his own urine, and hit the pavement, passed out cold.

  It had been entertaining, to say the least. And also the opportunity DJ had been waiting for. He’d disabled the Explorer’s GPS, dragged the passed-out drunk into the woods behind the church, and rolled him into a creek, where he’d landed facedown.

  Then he’d changed out the plates on the Explorer before driving it to a shopping center three and a half miles away. He’d parked behind an empty store up for lease, figuring that he’d come back for the vehicle when he was ready to drive to the mountain.

  Then he’d called Innes, who’d told him he’d have to wait for the ambulance to be available.

  He’d spent the entire hour that he’d waited cursing—first the Feds for finding him, then himself for being so complacent. He’d cursed Pastor for being so stingy with the access codes and Kowalski for trying to kill him. He’d cursed Mercy for being so well protected, Daisy Dawson for broadcasting remotely.

  And he cursed the woman in the eye doctor’s office, the one who’d spied him on the rooftop and told the other Fed. If it hadn’t been for her, he would have had the perfect shot. I should have just shot her.

  “Where will you go when you leave here?” Nurse Innes asked. “Back to your home?”

  “Most likely, yes.” No. Because Mercy and Gideon weren’t dead yet. “When my father is ready to be discharged, will you transport him to a safe place where I can pick him up?”

  “Of course. We’ve done that in the past. You can stay here tonight, but tomorrow you’ll have to make other arrangements.” She walked away, making notes on her cell phone.

  DJ dropped his bags on the floor of Pastor’s suite, next to the sofa in the sitting room. The couch was nowhere near as soft as the bed in Smythe’s spare bedroom, but it wasn’t awful. He figured that Coleen was either with Pastor or asleep. Either way, he’d deal with her later.

  He was almost asleep when he heard a gasp. Bolting upright, his eyes narrowed when he saw Coleen standing in the door to her room.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

  “I came to visit Pastor,” he lied. “How is he?”

  “Better. But his blood pressure is really high, so don’t make him mad.”

  DJ rolled his eyes. “Why would I make him mad?”

  “Because you’re supposed to be in Eden.”

  “I was,” he lied smoothly. “I left Brother Joshua in charge because the community wanted an update on Pastor’s condition. I just got here.”

  She studied him for a long moment that became uncomfortable. “I saw you on the news. You’ve been here all day. You’ve been here all weekend. They say that you’ve killed people.”

  Fucking bitch. DJ’s hands fisted. “I was protecting our investments.”

  She paled but was unconvinced. “Did you kill people?”

  “Did Edward? Did Ephraim?”

  Her lips thinned. “I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you.”

  He suddenly realized he didn’t know how she’d come to Eden. He knew when she’d joined—she’d been one of the original members. But he didn’t know how or why. All the founders had been running from something. Pastor and Marcia had been running from fraud and embezzlement charges. Edward and Ephraim, bank robbery and a triple homicide.

  Waylon was the only one who hadn’t had a warrant against him at the time, and DJ still didn’t know why his father had joined Pastor and the others. The same was true for Coleen.

  “Have you? Killed someone, I mean?” he asked. “Answer me, Sister Coleen.”

  She went rigid. “Not your concern.”

  She has. How fascinating. “Then you have no room to talk. Has Pastor seen the news?”

  “No. I’m trying to keep him from getting upset. Which is why you can’t stay here. He left his room for the first time today. He got to go to the solarium, where the other patients gather. If someone sees you, they might mention the news, and he’ll know. His health is very precarious.”

  Hell, that was the first good news he’d had all day. Not that Pastor was leaving his room, but that his survival was iffy. DJ could do a lot with iffy.

  “I’ll go tomorrow,” he promised to shut her up. He’d leave when he was ready and not before.

  SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

  TUESDAY, MAY 30, 6:30 A.M.

  “Mr. Saltrick,” Nurse Innes said, “this is our newest employee, Miss Barkley. She’s a nursing assistant and will be working pediatrics.”

  Liza smiled at the big man, but inside she was nervous. This was the guy whose computer Tom was trying to break into. “It’s good to meet you, sir.”

  “You’re the combat medic.”

  “Former, sir. I was honorably discharged.”

  “Well, thank you for your service. If you’ll stand here,
I’ll take the photo for your badge.”

  Liza stood where he pointed and smiled when he said to. Three minutes later, she had her own entry badge.

  “Wear this whenever you’re on the property,” he ordered. “Anyone not wearing a badge, especially new employees, will be considered hostile and dealt with accordingly.”

  “I understand,” Liza said, thinking about Rafe hiding out in the SUV she’d ridden in this morning. Tom had woken her early and made love to her tenderly, and then they had left the Sokolovs’ house with Liza and Rafe hunkered down on the floorboards in the back.

  Just like she’d done the Wednesday before when Agent Rodriguez had gotten them out of the eye doctor’s office.

  Tom’s hands had shaken when he’d said goodbye in the parking garage beneath Karl’s apartment. His parting kiss had been hard and desperate and afraid, his “I love you” hoarse and broken. But he’d let her go without complaint, and for that she loved him even more.

  Rafe had hidden in the very back of the SUV, where he’d stay until she needed him.

  She worried about him. It was going to get up into the high nineties today, but Rafe had assured her that he’d done surveillance in black vehicles on hotter days than this. She’d left the windows cracked, and he had plenty of water and a battery-operated fan. The dark windows would block some of the sun’s rays. She’d have to trust that he could keep himself safe.

  She sat through a short security and privacy briefing during which she signed a number of forms, including an NDA. Afterward, she was instructed to follow Nurse Innes. “Come along, Miss Barkley,” she said briskly. “I’ll give you your tour and then introduce you to your patient.”

  Liza put on her special James Bond camera-fitted glasses and set off beside Nurse Innes.

  The older woman eyed the hot pink rhinestone glasses with amusement. “Nobody will miss you in glasses like those,” she said.

  “A little girl in the eyeglass store helped me pick them out. I hope my patient will like them.”

  “I’m sure she will. Brooklyn loves bright colors.”

  The tour was short. Liza was shown the locker room and given a locker in which she stored her belongings, which had been carefully screened by Rafe and Tom. Rafe had been undercover for several years and had a good eye for anything that might give her away.