Security Measures

“Answer it, but don’t say anything to let him know that I’m here.”

She took the call. “Hello.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I’m awake.”

“I have a bit of bad news.”

“What is it?”

“They haven’t apprehended Vincent, and they suspect that he may have left the area. But they have Tyrone under surveillance just in case Vincent tries to see him. There’s been no change in Tyrone’s behavior. He’s reporting for work every day and staying close to home at night.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Damn good. We know Tyrone’s not a threat. I’m more concerned about Vincent, though.”

“Why is that?”

“I looked over his prison records. The last psychological evaluation of him indicates he’s delusional at times.”

“Meaning what?”

“He doesn’t have a firm grasp on reality. That’s all it said.”

Delusional, meaning all his fears about Tyrone could be groundless.

“Are you okay?”

Far from it, but she didn’t dare give that away, not with Vincent glaring at her and listening to every word she said. “I’m fine.”

“Call me if you need anything or if you hear from Vincent. Though like I said, there’s no reason to indicate he knows you’re alive.”

None, except that he was standing in her bedroom, telling her disturbing tales about Kelly.

“Later.”

“Yeah, later.”

She broke the connection and turned back to Vincent. She expected him to bombard her with questions about the call, but apparently he was satisfied that she hadn’t given his presence away.

“I’ll get out of here and leave you alone,” he said, picking up the tray. “But no funny stuff.”

“No funny stuff.”

“I mean it. I don’t care what your marshal friend says. Tyrone may have convinced him he’s gone straight, but I know him too well. He’s out for revenge. Turn me in, and you and Kelly don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this alive.”

Vincent’s words ricocheted around in her brain like stray bullets, hitting old and new fears at random and making her blood run icy cold.

STRANGE THAT BEING on the run didn’t make Vincent feel nearly as vulnerable as finally meeting his daughter did. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been this. Meeting her was like waking up on Christmas morning and finding this present so fantastic that you’d never even imagined it existed sitting under the tree.

Even though she was pouting about missing out on her trip to New Orleans, she was still amazing. Smart. Spunky. And he hadn’t lied when he’d said she had his eyes. She did, but the rest of her was all Candy, or Janice as she went by now. She wasn’t as pretty as her mother, but she would be in time.

Time that he had to make sure she got.

He opened the door to her bedroom and went inside. He skimmed the items on her bulletin board, then picked up a picture of Kelly and Janice, heads together, both laughing. He tensed, as if he were gearing up for a fight.

It wasn’t as if he felt anything for Janice anymore. He didn’t. How could he be attracted to a woman who hadn’t even looked him in the eye when she’d sat on the witness stand and testified for the prosecutor? But that was behind him. It was Kelly he was here for, her safety that was all important.

He sat down at the computer and brought up her e-mail. Thankfully he didn’t have to worry with trying to figure out her password. She had left it so that it came up automatically when he went to her Internet access. Kelly’s mailbox was full of new and previously read messages.

He read the most recent ones and found a few Byron had written under the pseudonym of Ringman. He scrolled down, reading earlier messages from Byron. Nothing gave him away as working for Tyrone, but nothing cleared him, either. He’d have to find out more about the kid. He’d start by visiting the chat room where Kelly and Byron had met.

But he’d also get the address of Byron’s computer and see what information he could get online. He had learned a few helpful things in prison.

KELLY WAS sprawled out on the sofa skimming the latest issue of Seventeen magazine with the earphones to her radio firmly planted in her ears. Vincent was in Kelly’s room with the door closed. Janice was in the laundry room folding shorts and shirts still warm from the dryer and considering her plan of action.

Vincent had taken her by surprise last night. His argument that she needed him to protect Kelly had struck such fear in her heart that she’d gone along with him.

But Ken’s call had started her seeing things a bit differently. She still thought that Vincent actually believed Tyrone was a real and imminent danger. But if he were delusional, that would explain his intensity and fears. And it might mean that he could turn dangerous himself, especially if she ordered him out of the house.

She had to get Kelly away from him. She could do it. Kelly’s clothes from the beach were here in the laundry room; so was their luggage. Janice’s clothes, makeup and the charger for her cell phone had never been unpacked.

All she had to do was add a few things to the luggage, and they could get in the car and drive away before Vincent even realized they were gone. Then she could contact Ken and he would take over from there.

But she had to do this just right. If Kelly made a scene in any way, Vincent would hear her in the back of the house and come running in to see what was up.

She repacked Kelly’s clothes and carried both pieces of luggage to the SUV, careful to make as little noise as possible when she opened the back door and set them inside. So far, so good, but the real challenge was yet to come.

Trying to appear as calm as possible, she walked to the den and sat down on the arm of the sofa. When Kelly looked up she motioned for her to take the earphones off.

“What’s up?”

This was it. One yell of protest from Kelly, one untimely appearance by Vincent, one wrong move, and her plan could prove to be fatal. It was a risk, but one she had to take.

She had to make this work.

Chapter Four

Janice backed the car out of the garage slowly, rounding the corner before she threw the gear into Drive and rammed the pedal to the metal.

“Way to go, Mom! What’s the rush?”

She ignored the question. She’d left Vincent a note that they’d had to pick up something at her office and would be back soon. She doubted he’d buy that, but it might slow him down in looking for them.

The light in front of them flashed to yellow, and she hit the accelerator, clearing it just as it turned red.

“Mom! You’re going to get us killed for some stupid old files.”

Getting them killed was what she was afraid of, but not because of her driving or stupid files. There were no files, of course. Having Kelly run into Janice’s office to pick up files while she circled the block was the only excuse she could think of that required Kelly to go with her.

Kelly slouched in the seat and pulled her earphones back in place. She stayed that way until Janice passed the exit she should have taken to go to her office. Kelly pushed the earphones off and let them hang haphazardly around her neck while she made a face. “You’re not going to drag me on a hundred errands, are you?”

“Not quite.”

“I knew it.” This time, she left the earphones off. She propped her feet on the dashboard and fingered the chipped red paint on her toenails, then turned back to Janice. “Did you know my dad was a big baseball fan?”

“Who told you that?”

“Vincent. He said my father went to see the Yankees play every year when he was growing up.”

If that was true, she hadn’t known that about Vincent. All she’d known of him was that he had burst into her life in an explosion of passion and she’d fallen for him instantly and hard.

“I told Vincent I’d never even been to New York, and he said he’d take me sometime. I told him you’d never let me go. I never get to go anywhere.”

And Vincent was the reason for that, though she was certain he hadn’t mentioned that. Her fingers wrapped around the wheel so tightly she could feel bursts of pain.

Kelly put her earphones back on and nodded her head up and down to the beat of the music. Janice tried to think how best to explain to Kelly that everything she’d been told about her father was a lie—that he was not a dead hero, but a live escaped convict. She’d have to tell her. She couldn’t take her on the run and not tell her why they were running or from whom.

They rode in silence until she took the airport exit, and Janice knew she had to say something. She reached over and tugged the earphones from Kelly’s head. “We need to talk.”

“Let me guess. We’re picking up another guest I’ve never heard of.”

“No. We’re going on a trip.”

“Sure we are, Mom. We’re always just hopping a plane to somewhere.”

“I know it’s unusual, but we are going on a trip.”

“Without luggage?”

“I packed a few things for us. They’re in the back.”

Kelly unbuckled her seat belt, turned around and pulled her knees into the seat so that she could see if Janice was telling the truth. When she saw the luggage, she started squealing and wiggling her bottom like crazy.

“We’re going to New Orleans! You changed you mind and we’re going.” She did a few wild swings of her arm as if she were dancing, then reached across the seat and gave Janice a hug.

“I’ve got to call Gayle and tell her. She’s going to flip. Or is she in on this?”

Janice shook her head in exasperation. She’d done this all wrong. They couldn’t possibly go to New Orleans.

Or could she? Vincent certainly wouldn’t look there. Neither would Tyrone, even if Vincent was right and he was out to get them. They could join Kelly’s group, just another bunch of high school kids touring the famed, historic city. It would give the police time to apprehend Vincent, and they were already tailing Tyrone.

Did she dare risk it? Or did she tell Kelly this was all a mistake and totally crush her?

Kelly already had Gayle on the phone and was babbling on and on about the fact that Janice had given in, and that they’d be in New Orleans in a few hours.

Kelly was ecstatic. Janice felt as if her insides had been coated with acid. But it just might work. Except she wouldn’t do it without Ken’s approval. She’d call him as soon as they got to the airport and she could get just far enough away from Kelly that her daughter couldn’t hear her conversation.

VINCENT STRETCHED HIS long legs under Kelly’s short desk until his toes bumped against the wall. Everything he’d found pointed to the fact that Byron’s relationship with Kelly had started just before Tyrone’s release from prison, and there was no record of Ringman being a member of any chat group other than the one where he’d linked with Kelly.

His online profile listed his name as Byron Hasselback, age seventeen. A check with the local high school indicated there was no Byron Hasselback registered. And there were no Hasselbacks listed in the phone book with addresses anywhere near the park where he’d walked with Kelly.

Might as well go down and share that bit of news with Janice. He closed Kelly’s e-mail and was about to exit the Internet when a message appeared on the screen. Ringman, a member of Kelly’s buddy group, had just signed on to the Internet. A second later, the instant message box appeared with a typed message from Byron.

Guess you’re still bummed about not going to New Orleans.

Vincent’s fingers went to the keyboard. For a second, he felt almost guilty about assuming his daughter’s identity, but one thought of Tyrone changed that.

Real bummed. It’s a drag here. Can we meet and talk?

Sure. We can meet right now if you promise not to bring that guy with you.

The offer of a daytime meeting surprised Vincent, but with luck, the park would be just as deserted in the sweltering midday heat as it had been in the dark of night. If this was a trap, he didn’t want to bring innocent people into the mix.

I can meet now.

Okay, but don’t let that guy see you leave the house.

He’s not around.

Where is he?

I think he left. Mom didn’t like him.

Can you make it in twenty minutes?

Easy.

Vincent logged out of Kelly’s server and flicked off the monitor. His mind was already going over how he’d handle the meeting with Byron as he unlocked the door and started down the hall to the front of the house.

The door to Janice’s bedroom was open. He knocked anyway. When she didn’t respond, he peeked inside. The white robe she’d had on that morning was tossed on top of the unmade bed. The sheets were still mussed where she’d slept.

Something twisted in his gut, and he leaned against the door frame trying to get a handle on his feelings. This crazy desire she ignited didn’t mean anything. It was just that he hadn’t been with a woman in years and years.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. He stepped into the living room and scanned it for signs of life. The morning newspaper was folded and sitting on the huge ottoman just as he’d left it. A half glass of soda was on the table by the sofa, leftover remnants of ice cubes floating on the top.

Panic swelled in his chest as he raced to the kitchen, then opened the garage door. The tan SUV was gone. Damn. He kicked a sneaker lying by the door with such force that it knocked over Kelly’s bike and sent a tin watering can clattering across the floor.

What kind of lunatic would have run off on her own after what he’d told her about Tyrone’s revenge plans? That was a no-brainer. The same kind of nut who’d testify against Tyrone Magilinti in the first place. If Janice thought some play-by-the-rules U.S. Marshal could save her and Kelly, she was living in a dreamworld.

So where the hell had she taken his daughter? Probably to some so-called safe house the marshal had set up. Or she might have gone to a friend’s house or just hit the road.

She might have even caught a flight out of town, probably not in her own name. Only airline security was tight these days. Unless the marshal had set her up with some convincing alternate forms of ID, she’d never be able to board. Still, he’d check the airlines just to make sure.

He walked back to the kitchen and this time he saw the note from Janice propped against the coffeepot. Like hell, she’d be back soon. She’d probably already called the cops and told them where to find him.

He was amazed they weren’t already beating down the door. There might be a SWAT unit surrounding the house, waiting for him to stick his head out before they started shooting.

He checked his weapons. One pistol was at his waist, tucked into the holster that fit beneath his loose cotton shirt; another was in his boot holster, along with a hunting knife sharp enough to slice a man’s jugular with a flick of the wrist.

Vincent raced to the guest room, stuffed his few personal belongings and his spare change of clothes into the blue duffel with his tools and equipment, then went to the front window and studied the landscape.

There was no sign of police activity, so he walked out, got into his car and drove to the park to meet Byron. It would be a quick visit, but if he was, in fact, working for Tyrone, Vincent wanted to know why and who else who might be on his cousin’s payroll. It always helped to be able to identify the assassins when someone was going down.

THE PARK was deserted except for a mixed-breed mutt chasing squirrels. Vincent waited in the wooded area a couple of yards off the path. He didn’t want Byron to see him and run off before he got close enough to grab him.

Byron showed up early—at least, Vincent figured the guy in denim cutoffs with the scraggly hair was Byron. The guy scanned the area, then dropped into a swing and lit a cigarette. He was lanky and moved in a sluggish manner that suggested he had nothing better to do than while away his days meeting pen pals in the park.

Vincent kept a wary eye out to make sure no one else was around. When he was fairly certain Byron was alone, he stepped onto the path and started breathing as if he’d been jogging.

“Man, this heat will give you a stroke,” he said, leaning against a tree and holding a hand over his chest.

“Yeah. It’s hot.” Byron took a long draw on the cigarette and blew out a spiral of smoke as Vincent approached him.

“It’s too hot for Kelly,” Vincent said, stopping within arm’s reach of Byron. “She said to tell you that.”

The cigarette slipped from Byron’s fingers. Vincent stepped in front of him and ground it out.

“You must have the wrong guy,” Byron said. “I don’t know a Kelly.”

“I think you do.”

Byron jumped up, but Vincent put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back into the swing.

“You’re crazy, man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vincent kept his grip on Byron’s shoulders. “Who paid you to start up a friendship with Kelly?”

“No one. I told you, I don’t know no Kelly.”

Vincent pulled his weapon and held the tip of the barrel against Byron’s right temple. “Who paid you?”

The guy broke into a serious sweat. It poured down his face like rain.

“Okay, okay. Some guy paid me, but I don’t know his name. He just said to start luring Kelly to the park and find out things about her.”

“What kind of things?”

“Who her friends are. What hours her mom’s home. That sort of thing.”

“Why did you run out on her last night?”

“I didn’t, man. I was never here.”

“That’s not what you said in the e-mail.”

“I say what he tells me to say. Last night he told me not to show, then he told me to act like I did.”

“Why didn’t he want you to show last night?”

“I don’t know, dude. I don’t ask questions. I just do as I’m told. I got some gambling debts. I need the money.”

“Did your friend tell you to set up this meeting today?”

“No, and he’s not a friend. Look, please put that gun down. I’ll tell you everything, just put that gun down, please.”

Vincent lowered the gun. The guy was scared, and his gut feeling was that Byron was finally telling the truth.

“Why did you come today without being told to?”

“I got scared last night when they told me not to show. Kelly’s got some issues with her mother and all that, but she’s a nice kid. I didn’t want to see her get hurt.”

“And you think the guy planned to hurt her?”

“I didn’t know. He said he wasn’t, but he was into her, you know what I mean. He kept asking questions about her and last night, he wanted her here, but he didn’t want me anywhere around.”

“How did you meet this guy?”

“I got an e-mail from him. He already knew all about me. Knew I was out of work. Knew I was in trouble with the gambling debts.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“Man, I can’t mess with the cops. I mean, I been in trouble before.”

“For picking up girls on the Internet?”

“Maybe.”

Vincent put the gun back to his head. “Yes or no?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything they didn’t want to do.”

But enough that he couldn’t go to the cops with this. Tyrone would have known that and that’s why he chose him to do his dirty groundwork.

But last night, Tyrone or one of his henchmen had been in this very park waiting for Kelly. If Vincent hadn’t seen her sneak away from the house… If he hadn’t been with her…

He felt sick. Sick and furious all at once, and he wished it was Tyrone’s head in front of his gun. He’d pull the trigger and never think twice about it.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.