‘Don’t let his age discount his expertise,’ Zimmerman advised. ‘He’s one of the best bomb disposal techs I’ve ever known. Our hazardous device team is already on the scene with Agent Triplett. They know to expect you.’
‘Be careful, Adam,’ Isenberg said quietly. ‘The shooter outside clearly intended to kill a lot of people. We don’t know who was the actual target today or why. The young man stopped at Dr Fallon’s table, but he could have been instructed to pick someone at random. Based on the explosives visible in the vest, he could easily have taken out the entire café.’
Adam nodded grimly. ‘He failed, so he may try again. Got it. I’ll update you ASAP.’ He ended the call and finished securing his bulletproof vest. Grabbing his tactical helmet and a gym bag packed with a suit jacket, a button-up shirt, and a tie, he holstered his service weapon in the vest then slammed the Jeep’s hatch closed. He glanced at the hotel across the street. Meredith was probably inside. Hopefully CSU had taken whatever evidence they’d needed from her hands so she could wash them.
He hoped that soap and water would be enough for her to feel clean.
Soap and water had never done the trick for him. He wore the blood of too many victims on his hands, and no matter how many times he’d washed them, he never truly felt clean. He didn’t want that for Meredith.
Two cops were positioned at the hotel entrance and he could see two more inside the lobby as he jogged up the line of cruisers to find Trip.
Meredith would have to wait a little longer.
Anderson Township, Ohio,
Saturday 19 December, 4.30 P.M.
He’s going to kill me. There was no question in Linnea Holmes’s mind. He’d killed Andy like he was . . . nothing. Andy was not nothing. He’d been . . . everything.
I’m so sorry. She wanted to scream her apology to the darkening sky, but she didn’t. Because she wanted the bastard who’d killed Andy to believe he’d broken her. That she wouldn’t fight. But she would fight. She wasn’t going to let him kill her.
Through a hole in the pocket of her coat, she fingered the switchblade she’d hidden in the lining. Andy had given her the switchblade so that she could protect herself. She didn’t know where he’d gotten it from. She figured he’d either won it in a poker game or had stolen it. She hadn’t cared, but Andy had. He hated having to cheat and steal.
That was why Andy had pointedly shown her the receipt when he’d bought her the coat when the weather turned cold in November, long before he’d bought one for himself.
He always took care of me first. Always. That he’d died believing the worst of her . . .
But the worst was also the truth. Mostly. Yes, she’d whored herself out. But not for the reason he thought. She wasn’t sure she ever could have told him the real reason.
Tears stung her eyes. And now I’ll never know.
She owed Andy Gold everything. I’m not going to let him down again. She steeled her spine. Revenge will happen, she promised herself. Promised Andy.
The SUV finally stopped. They’d been driving east for twenty minutes, leaving the city behind for the countryside. She’d never been this far out in the country before. Overgrown with trees and vines, it was like no one had touched the land in years.
She’d kept her head bowed so that he’d continue to think she was in shock, but she’d been carefully observing their route so that she could find her way out. She tightened her grip on the switchblade. She’d either get away, or she’d be dead.
She lifted her chin, widening her eyes. Pretended to be surprised. ‘Where are we?’
He didn’t answer, just got out of the SUV. Leaving the motor running and his door open, he walked around to her side, drawing a gun from a shoulder holster.
This is it. She whispered a prayer in her mind and hoped that God would hear her.
Gripping his gun in his right hand, he reached for the collar of her coat with his left, his body bracing to yank her out of the car. And then to shoot me and leave me here.
I don’t think so. Linnea gritted her teeth. Not today.
She whipped the blade from her pocket, holding it the way Andy had taught her to, releasing the blade she sharpened religiously, just as she’d promised Andy she would. As if your life depends on it, Andy had urged when he’d given it to her. Today it would.
She struck out, catching his right forearm as she swung her legs from the car and jerked her knee up into his groin. He bent over on a shocked gasp and she met his head halfway, butting her skull against his so hard she had to blink away stars.
‘Fucking bitch,’ he snarled, tightening his grip on her collar – and on his gun. Dammit. She hadn’t cut him deep enough in his gun arm. He hadn’t dropped it. Panic nearly froze her, but she pushed it away.
Again. Do it again. And again. Until he stops. Or you’re dead.
She struck again, plunging the knife hard up into the underside of his arm. With a furious cry he released her, stumbling back a step. Ignoring the searing pain from the injuries she’d sustained in last night’s beating, she used both feet to shove him away, using his own momentum, then shoved the SUV door, hitting him again.
A shot cracked the air, but it hadn’t hit her, so she leapt from the SUV and ran to the driver’s side, not looking back. Don’t look back. Don’t look. Just drive. She yanked at the gearshift and floored it, not stopping to close his door or hers.
For a split second she saw him in her side mirror, making a desperate grab for the back door as the tires squealed, slipping on the snowy road. Then the tires gained traction and the SUV lurched forward, fishtailing.
She saw him fall to his knees, aiming his gun at the vehicle, and she ducked down as far as she dared. More shots cracked the air, so fast she lost count. One hit the back window, making her flinch, and then . . . nothing. No breaking glass.
She glanced into the rear-view to see a small dent in the back window, but no webbing, no fracture. She felt the hysterical laugh bubbling up and was powerless to stop it.
Bulletproof. He had bulletproof glass in his SUV. And it had worked against him.
Finally, something worked against him.
She raced to the end of the road, relieved when it connected to a larger one. She turned sharply onto the two-lane highway, the centrifugal force causing the back door to slam shut. Good. She hadn’t planned for that to happen, but she’d take it.
She tapped the accelerator hard enough to make the driver’s door swing close enough that she could reach it. She pulled it closed, then floored the accelerator again.
Where am I? She knew she was east of the city, but she didn’t know anyone out here. She didn’t have a phone. She glanced at the charging cord hanging from the USB port in the stereo. No phone was attached, so he probably had it in his pocket.
Which meant he was calling for help right now. Shit. She’d need to ditch the SUV quickly. He had . . . staff. Devoted staff. Linnea had no idea what he’d done to earn such loyalty, but his thugs obeyed his every command. She winced, her body protesting her sudden activity back there. His thugs especially obeyed the commands that allowed them to torture anyone smaller than they were. Which was pretty much everyone.
She wore bruises all over her body. Inside and out.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to ‘entertain’ one of his ‘associates.’ But last night’s thug had been particularly brutal. He’d wanted her to scream, and she had. He’d counted on Andy agreeing to anything to make her torture stop, and he had. But not really.
She’d known Andy wouldn’t be able to kill. She’d seen the grim line of his jaw, the sorrow in his eyes. Andy had known he would die today, but true to character, he hadn’t let anyone else get hurt. That was just who he was.
Grief pierced her heart. Who he’d been. Goddammit. He was gone. Forever. He, who deserved to have every happily-ever-after in the world. Now he never would.
Linnea’s eyes filled and she brushed the damned tears away impatiently. She didn’t have time to grieve. She didn’t deserve to grieve. Not until Andy got justice.
You should call the police. Tell them what you know.