“Ham…” But he had her interest, and she nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Yes. I remember.”
“Kelleher was smuggling emeralds and using the profits to support his vigilante mercenary work. I figured my folks gave him the emeralds because that’s what he wanted.”
“He’d know what to do with them.”
Ham didn’t seem to hear her. “Kelleher put us in touch with each other. Indirectly, because I never met him face-to-face. He knew I was friends with Ethan. He’d been watching me. And you—” Ham thought a moment. “He liked playing the white knight with you.”
“He did provide some useful information. Obviously he turned on me.”
“It’s my fault. I got scared,” Ham said without embarrassment. “I went to New York to find Ethan—I think Kelleher wanted me scared, wanted me to go to Ethan for help. I was in over my head.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I knew for sure I could trust Ethan.”
Kelleher had manipulated Ham, confused him to the point he’d go to the one person he knew he could trust—Ethan Brooker. Which was exactly what Kelleher wanted. Why? Mia shut her eyes a moment, but she still felt the blindfold and opened them again quickly, relieved at the sunlight. “What about Tatro?”
But Ham bolted to his feet, and then she heard it, too, understood why. A rustling sound outside. He got his MP5 into a ready position that looked authentic to her. Then he grinned at her, and relaxed. “It’s the Longstreets.”
Juliet Longstreet entered the barn first, followed by a tall, handsome, fair-haired man, both of them armed. Ham was yapping at them a mile a minute, but Mia couldn’t focus on what he was saying. She tried to stand. The fair-haired man caught her around the waist. She’d always been so self-sufficient, so confident and determined. But she sank into his strong arms and started to cry.
Juliet knew she wouldn’t find Brooker unless he wanted her to find him.
She ran up the road, using trees as cover, having nixed the idea of Paul’s police cruiser. Let Kelleher wonder if they were on to him.
Paul had stayed with Wendy and called for backup. Wendy hadn’t wanted her father to stay. It wasn’t rejection—it was, Juliet realized, a necessity. An assertion of identity more than independence. And an acceptance of him, the man he was. Now he was at the barn with Ham Carhill and Mia O’Farrell, both in tough shape, physically and emotionally. Joshua would protect them, and he would protect the crime scene.
Kelleher had constructed his own personal torture chamber and vigilante minibase in the days he’d been here.
Juliet’s only regret was that she hadn’t thought to take an MP5 for herself. She had her snub-nosed revolver. But it would do, and her primary goal was to isolate Kelleher and contain the situation until the cavalry arrived.
Ham Carhill had looked at her with a clear, calm gaze. “He wasn’t sure about your role. Kelleher. He came to Vermont to learn more about you and your role in the conspiracy he had us all in. He positioned himself to get Ethan, through you, and to expose us as traitors, get money.” The young Texan had frowned then, his certainty faltering. “I thought it was just the emeralds he was after. I don’t understand the multimillions.”
Juliet hadn’t taken the time to sort out what he was saying with him. But she would, later, when Kelleher and Tatro were behind bars, when her family was safe.
Twenty yards before reaching the cabin’s driveway, she started up the steep hill, moving at a diagonal, staying out of sight, even if she wasn’t as stealthy as Brooker. Every crunch made her wince, but the bed of pine needles and freshly fallen leaves helped soften her approach.
She ducked under a monstrous rhododendron on the edge of the driveway and peered through its oversize branches. The hood to Kelleher’s truck was up. He stepped down out of his camper, an MP5 cradled in his right arm.
And Ethan, coming into Juliet’s line of sight, shut the truck’s hood. She was within earshot.
What the hell was he up to?
He had an MP5 in his right hand. Kelleher got his weapon in ready position and said, “Keep your weapon lowered. Raise it an inch without my permission, and I’ll shoot you.”
“No problem. It’s cool.” Ethan nodded to the truck. “Ignition wire’s been cut.”
“Longstreet?”
“She’s not with me. I’ve seen your setup in the barn. Good deal, Kelleher. I never trusted O’Farrell. And Ham Carhill—a means to an end.”
Kelleher seemed satisfied with Ethan’s remarks. “What happened in Afghanistan? I’ve wanted to believe you were with us. Then, well, because of you, we lost valuable contacts and information that would have helped this country.”
“I did what I could to help. How do you think you and most of your team escaped?”