Capturing Kate (20 page)

Sloan was already typing instructions, IMs, emails to team members. “Kate, this is amazing. Just what we needed! We’ll have team members check it out completely. If something’s in that office, we’ll find it.”

She bit her lip. “But what are the numbers for?”

“Hmmm. 1945 2 23. The 2 must be Second Street. The 23? It’s the suite number. You got it!” His voice was excited.

“But the 1945?” She hesitated. “That must tell us where, or how.”

“We’ll get it, Kate. We got this far, it’s a matter of time. We’ll keep thinking and the team will look everywhere. Mailboxes there, perhaps? Phone codes for patients to retrieve messages? Maybe even a number etched onto a seat in the waiting room, and she hid something in the stuffing? We’ll check every possibility.”

“Okay.” She thought out loud. “Parking number spots? Maybe an elevator in the building, and she hid something or wrote something there? The number on an electrical box or a light post?”

“This place is a huge lead. Kate, thank you.” His voice was full of excited pleasure. “I have an agent going there right now to check it out.”

“What if Mancini has people watching?” She sat down in the other chair and drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

“My people are better.” His voice was short. “This is critical enough that we need to try.”

“Okay.”

She sat still, not sure what to do. “It was a good idea, right?”

“Excellent.”

“It might not be what she meant.”

“It has to be.” She flushed with pride at his look. “Good job, Kate. This might be the last piece we need.”

They were silent for a minute or two, sitting at the wooden table, then Kate shifted. “So what is it that she found, Sloan? What do you think she has?”

He shook his head. “I think it’s got to do with the arms deal, maybe some information about the auction, how to buy in, how to identify the players. Maybe some incriminating evidence about him. Whatever it is, she knew it was different from the water plant data. More critical.”

“Do you think it will have the missing piece that will allow your team to close down the auction?”

“Be present for it,” he corrected. “And close them down once we know the buyer and find out where the exchange will take place.”

“Yeah.” She yawned. “I’m tired but I’m keyed up.” She pulled on her sandals and opened the front door, breathed deeply. “Maybe the smell of the night will relax me.” The aroma of dewy clover and cool condensation on branches floated into the room. She took another deep breath, then closed the door when a moth flittered close.

“Me, too.” He looked out the window. “The weather’s let up, but we’re still here.”

“Because of me, right? If I weren’t in this mix, you’d be on the scene doing other things.” She wandered around the room, picked up a book on the shelf, put it down.

“I’m more behind the scenes. I can’t be part of the auction or anything leading up to it; Mancini would be suspicious. So mostly other work.”

“But you wouldn’t be in this cabin all this time.”

“No. But neither would you. And I think this had been far harder on you than me.” His voice was rough. “I’m sorry, Kate. Sorry for the things you had to undergo.”

“It’s not your fault.” But his words warmed her. She watched, eyes narrowing slightly, as he put on his boots and stuck his keys and phone into his jeans pockets. When he opened his bag and removed a gun, checked it, and put it in a holster at his side, she furled her brow. “Why do you need the gun now? You weren’t wearing it before.” A slight trickle of unease made her cold.

He shrugged. “Just being careful.” His eyes flicked around the room, back to the window.

She nodded. “Okay. Um. The auction is tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.” His voice was urgent. “I hope my team finds what we need.”

He got up and roamed around the dark room and she followed him with her eyes to the small battered couch in front of the window. He sat in it and gazed out the window. “Full moon. Good luck omen?”

She walked over and stood behind him, trailing her fingers along his neck. “Yes. Definitely.”

He reached up and took her hand in his, squeezed. His warm strength made her catch her breath. He leaned his head back to look at her, and she leaned down, her mouth by his cheek.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He snaked up his other arm and touched her lips. “Sit by me.”

She came around and sank into the seat beside him, and he put his arm around her. She wriggled until she fit into his body, into the curve of his arm, her leg along his. They sat in silence for a minute.

“After this is over,” he said, his voice firm, “you’re going to see a therapist. A good one. The best. I’ll give you names. People who understand PTSD and have worked with people in situations like yours. You may want medication. Don’t be afraid to ask for it. It’s not a sign of weakness.”

She shifted. “Why are you saying this?”

“You’re still running on adrenaline, Kate. What we’re doing here, together? The punishment and sex? It’s helping you get through it. But the panic attacks are signs of a coming crash. When you crash, it will be hard and ugly. If you’re prepared for it, you’ll heal faster.”

“I don’t want to think about that right now.” She lay her palm on top of his thigh and pressed into his solid, warm body. “Tell me about you. Something about you.”

“What do you want to know?” His voice was low.

“Anything. Your favorite color. What you like to eat. Do you like sports? I know so little about you.”

“Blue. Pizza. Yes.” He touched her hand. “I play basketball when I can. My buddies at work and I have a fantasy football tournament every year. I’m actually a pretty good cook.”

“Oh, yes, I could tell. Those granola bars and wrapped sandwiches gave it away.”

He laughed. “Smart ass. How about you?”

“Purple. Cap’n Crunch Peanut Butter cereal with whole milk. No skim. It’s like water. I like watching the Olympics, gymnastics and swimming and running.”

“Watching, huh? Spectator sports.” He laughed. “The practice must be grueling. I hope you don’t strain your eye muscles with all that hard work.”

“Shut up!” She paused. “Why did you get into the FBI?” She wanted to know him from the inside out.

“I thought it was a kick-ass job when I was in college. I did it for the thrill and because I thought it would sound good to chicks. But I was good at it. And then I started to love it. It became more than a line. It became my life. I enjoy cracking mysteries, and bringing justice where I can. One small piece at a time. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like this is some rah-rah perfect job, or anything. There’s a lot of politics, red tape, ugly bureaucracy. But I’ve been part of some pretty fucking amazing things.”

“Things you can’t talk about, I assume.”

He laughed. “Yeah. But in general, bringing down drug dealers. Infiltrating a sex crimes ring against kids. That was the hardest, emotionally, and the most rewarding. God, Kate. I worked behind the scenes to direct a team of agents who infiltrated the gang. When we did our final raid for that job, there were kids that we saved. That makes all the hard work and sacrifice worth it.”

“I get that.” She touched his leg. “I lo—I think that’s amazing.”

His voice was clipped. “There are so many people I can’t tell. I mean, my outside friends and family know I have a government job, but they think it’s project management for the finance department. When I have a day like that, I can’t talk to the people I love most. And that’s tough.”

“You need to find a woman as your partner, someone who understands and can support you. Someone you can trust. Then you could talk to her, as much as your job allows.”

“Yeah.” He stiffened next to her. “We already covered that, Kate.”

She pressed on. “So—you’re single. You said.”

He nodded. “You know I am.”

She looked at the moon. “You know I am, too.”

“I know.” His voice held a note of sympathy. “Kate, what we’re doing here—”

“Stop. Don’t say it. I know,” she interrupted, heart cracking. “It’s all part of your approved methods to get a subject into compliance.”

“Kate…”

“You’re doing what you have to do, and it worked. It works. I don’t expect anything afterwards.” She kept her voice steady, even as her heart broke. “I don’t want you to think I’m going all Stockholm-y on you and all. I was just asking, that’s all. Okay. No biggie. We’re both grownups, but I’m fine with this being a temporary thing.”

“So you don’t—expect—anything from me later.” She couldn’t read his tone.

“I can handle a one-night stand week with some kinky spankiness, especially if it kept me from going insane.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t turn into some weird stalker who follows you around or anything. I’m better than that.”

But her heart sank, thinking about leaving him. She knew it was too soon, it was all wrong, it was probably emotions summoned up from the stress of the situation, but still—she was falling for him. Hard. And she knew he didn’t feel the same way. She was just a job to him. An attractive one, but still—part of the job. She rested into his shoulder. “Can you just hold me right now, and we’ll watch the moon? I’d like to just do that. Please.”

“All right.” His voice was tense, but he pulled her further into his arms, and she sank into his warmth, pretending—for the moment—that they were far from this place, and there was no afterwards. There was only this moment and the future in front of them, bright and full like the moon.

Chapter Sixteen

“Kate! Get down. Now. Now!” The shouts mixed with loud pops, the unmistakable sound of bullets. Sloan tugged her to the floor, a rough pull that knocked the breath from her lungs. He knelt at the window, shot. It must be the gun he’d put at his waist. Had he expected this?

He shot again, and flashes and sounds merged in front of her into a nightmare.

“When I say go, we’re going to run together to the car out front. You’re going to get in the passenger seat and I’m going to drive. You’re going to duck down on the floor under the glove compartment and stay there, hands over your head, as small as you can get. Don’t fall and don’t look up until I tell you.”

“Wait! Sloan, I don’t understand…”

“Go.” His command shocked her into motion. She ran, nothing in her mind but getting to the safety of the car. The car, the car, the car. Bullet shots rang out, and she didn’t know if they were from Sloan’s gun or someone else’s. The air was cool and a moth flitted past her face. Dawn. The grass was wet under her shoes, because droplets splattered her ankles. She thought of blood and ran faster.

Seconds later, or maybe an hour, or maybe ten minutes—she had no ability to parse time—they were driving, fast. Her head bumped into the side of the car, and she welcomed it as a safe sensation. Bumping meant movement, which meant staying alive. Her breath came in spurts, fast and uneven, and when she noticed that her fingernails were digging hard into her palms, hard enough to leave marks, she forced her hands open. Claws. They shut automatically, and her fingernails moved back into the grooves they’d carved into her skin. That felt safe, too.

“We’re okay for now.” His voice was taut. “Come up and put on your seatbelt.”

“I don’t think I can move to get there.” Her limbs were frozen.

“Try.”

“I don’t want to. I feel better down here.”

“I dropped the shooter but I don’t know if there were more. Right now we’re not being followed, so you can sit up.”

He got onto his cell phone and barked some sentences, orders. She didn’t follow what he was saying. Like an animal, she scrabbled her way up to the seat laboriously, and after several failed attempts, her hands shaking so badly she couldn’t control them, she finally got the seatbelt to click.

“What happened?” She still didn’t understand.

“Someone found us. Nobody except my team knew we were there, and they’re watertight. All checked in. No issues.”

“Was it Mancini? He knows I’m alive?”

“Somebody knows.” His voice was tense. “Damn it. Right before the auction, too.”

“Do you think he’ll cancel or postpone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to take you to Allison.”

“No.”

“Kate. She’s at the safe house. You’ll be better off there than with me.” His voice was heavy with self-recrimination.

“I want to be with you.” She felt terror. “I need you.”

He kept his eyes on the road. “You need to be safe.”

She dozed eventually despite her panic—maybe because of it, even, but woke up when they approached Chicago. “Sloan. Don’t take me to the safe house and Allison.” She reached out to touch his arm. “Please.”

“There’s nowhere else.”

He signaled a turn off the expressway. “No!” She sat upright. “Sloan. We need to go to the cardiology office.”

“Kate. Agents have been there, are there now. They haven’t found anything. Not in the lost and found, not in chairs, not anywhere.”

She envisioned people taking the place apart wearing coveralls, carrying screwdrivers. “How did they get in?”

“Posing as patients during the day. Bypassed the alarm at night, checked the place out.”

“Oh.” A sudden rush of enlightenment. “God. Sloan. I had a new idea! I know what she meant. I know it for sure this time! Please. We have to go back there. I know where to go now to get what she left me.”

“Are you making this up to get out of the safe house?” His voice was tense.

“No! Sloan, believe me. There’s this thing. I have an idea. But I need to see it in person, because I haven’t been to the town in a long time. I swear it. I think I know what she meant. I need to see the heart office to know for sure.”

He turned the car around. “I hope you know what you’re talking about.”

* * *

It took another hour to get there, and she was dizzy with excitement when they pulled onto Second Street. Sloan talked into his phone, voice low, explaining, directing.

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember.” Her voice was full of self-chastisement. “How could I not remember?”

“Stress.” He touched her back. “It does strange things. Remember the Elizabeth Smart kidnapping? Her sister only remembered—or was able to say—the truth about the kidnapper over a year later. The brain is tricky when it’s under pressure.”