Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) (17 page)

But his life expectancy wasn’t the issue.

He climbed into the driver’s seat of his SUV and gave them a tight-lipped nod.

“Keep low,” he muttered as he headed up the driveway through a cavalcade of law enforcement and emergency vehicles. The rear windows were tinted. Still, his heart thudded against his ribs at the thought of someone spotting them. He expected to be exposed every time someone glanced his way, but by the time he reached the main road no one was even looking at him anymore.

He called headquarters and asked for an update on roadblocks, found out exactly where they were all located. Now he could avoid them.

He glanced in the rearview but he couldn’t see either Vivi or Michael. “I wish I could tell you to sit up front, but I think until we get where we’re going you need to keep out of sight. You could probably lie on the backseat though.” He heard the rustle of blankets and Vivi tried to coax Michael off the floor but he wouldn’t move. She was getting increasingly agitated.

“Vivi, leave him. He’s not hurting down there. You just lie down and try to get comfortable. Drag my parka from the trunk.” His cell rang.
Killion
. “I better take this. Don’t say anything, OK?”

His eyes met hers in the mirror for a moment. She looked brittle and shaken. White-faced with fear. He’d promised her she’d be safe and look what happened. Two dead marshals and no clue as to who was behind this thing.

Knowing he needed to be on his game to fool Killion he turned his eyes back to the road and imagined Vivi and Michael dead in a pool of blood. Suddenly the thought of lying to the guy wasn’t so difficult.

***

Marie Thomas lived in the Camden area of Minneapolis in a rundown bungalow that hearkened back to the 1950s. White, wooden siding had long since grayed and started to flake; mint green trim was faded and streaked with grime. The front three steps and sidewalk had been carefully shoveled, though the concrete of was pitted and starting to crumble.

There was no one out on the street. Everyone was tucked up inside which suited Pilah’s plans perfectly. She carried a clipboard and wore a black, wool coat over a black pant suit, both of which she’d found in a local thrift store. She kept her head down because you never knew where surveillance cameras were although this wasn’t the sort of neighborhood where people installed them on their property.

She pressed the buzzer, then wiped the button with her cuff.

Dogs barked inside. Crap. She hadn’t planned on dogs. Heavy footsteps. A woman came to the door. She had the worn-out face of someone who’d worked long and hard and knew she wouldn’t get a break any time soon. Wrinkles radiated from her eyes as she smiled. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

Music played on the radio in the background.

“Mrs. Thomas?” Pilah asked.

“Ms.” The woman corrected firmly.

Good. “My name is Pat Jones. I’m from County Hospital where your uncle was admitted?”

The woman sagged against the door frame. “Poor Uncle Billy.” She checked her wristwatch. “I was hoping to get down there after work but I’m too tired now.” She wiped her hair out of her eyes. “Come on in out of the cold.”

Pilah accepted gratefully.

“Down Rhett. Down Ginger!” Both dogs stopped jumping and stood wagging their tails. “Don’t worry about them. They’re friendly.”

Pilah’s stomach clenched. She did not want to do this. Why the hell was she doing this? “What do you do for a living, Ms. Thomas?”

“Oh, God, I’m not going to get hit with all his medical expenses am I?” She dragged a hand through her bleached, blond hair. “I don’t make that sort of money.”

“No, ma’am. Your uncle had insurance.” If he didn’t Sargon would probably foot the bill himself. Irony in its highest form. She didn’t know what he planned to do to the man but it couldn’t be good.

“Thank Christ for that. Come on through to the kitchen. I left the stove on.”

Pilah touched the dogs’ heads as she followed their mistress into the kitchen. They were sweet pooches. What would happen to them if anything happened to Marie? She couldn’t afford to care. Her hands shook and she stuffed them inside her pocket, her right hand clasping the gun Abdullah had left in her glove box.

“I’m going to go down to the hospital tomorrow. I’ve got a few days off.”

Which meant her cover would be blown as soon as Marie spoke to the nurse. “What is it you do?” Pilah asked.

“I work at the Y, running youth programs.”

Pilah’s palms grew sweaty and she wiped them on her thigh. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

The woman’s scrawny shoulders shrugged beneath a cheap sweater. “I like it.”

“Does Mr. Green have other relatives or close friends we should contact?”

“There’s just him left on that side of the family. His wife died and they never had kids. I don’t know his friends. Why do you want to know?” The eyes were speculative now.

The hourly news came on the radio. The lead story made her stiffen. The redheaded boy and his mother were missing after an attack on the safe house. Cops were looking for them. The danger was intensifying. The threat of failure increasing with every loose-end.

She snapped herself back to this worn-out woman and her modest little kitchen. “He’s going to need some extra care when he first gets out of the hospital. We are doing a trial program where we try and get input from relatives before release to make sure everything is in place ahead of time.” Pilah put her hand back in her pocket. If she allowed herself to think about this she’d never go through with it and her children would be sacrificed. Adad’s calming voice tried to soothe her. She shook him out of her head. Stupid man.

Marie Thomas flipped an egg in the pan. “It’s just me and frankly, we aren’t close. But the guy got shot so I want to be there for him—”

Pilah gripped the pistol in her right hand and squeezed the trigger. The gun fired through her coat pocket and hit the woman in the stomach. The dogs started barking.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Marie dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor. Blood ran through her fingers as she pressed her hands to the wound.

“I am so sorry.”

The woman crashed forward and lay still. Pilah closed her eyes and drew out a long breath. The dogs continued to bark in confusion and fear.
Forgive me.

“Hush now, hush.” She crouched and both animals came towards her, uncertain. They didn’t understand what had happened. Her stomach churned. She didn’t understand it herself. Once they started wagging their tails she petted them for a moment and then stood up. She couldn’t linger too long; someone might report the noise.

She saw Marie’s purse on the table and took her wallet, slipping it into her pocket.

Pilah used her sleeve to turn off the gas burner, then noted the empty dog bowls. She opened the pantry door and found a big, plastic canister of food. She gave each dog four big scoops of dried kibble, enough to last a few days. Then she pulled the curtains and blinds, wiped her prints off everything she thought she’d touched. The radio played loudly enough to be heard, but not loudly enough to cause complaint. She left the hallway light on.

With any luck it would be a few days before anyone noticed the body and no one would connect this woman to the events at the mall.

Pilah let herself out, keeping her face tucked into her collar as she strode away. She’d never expected to become a killer, but the act got easier with practice. Or maybe she was dying on the inside, slowly and surely every time she took a life, until nothing of worth remained.

There was very little of worth left now. Just the tiny hope she could somehow keep her daughters alive.

***

Vivi pulled out the pistol she’d tucked into her waistband and placed it on the seat beside her. She didn’t like guns, especially didn’t like them around Michael. He was only eight. He didn’t always make the most sensible choices. Or maybe they seemed sensible when you were eight, which didn’t necessarily jive with the thoughts of the rest of the population.

She listened to Brennan’s side of the conversation with the intelligence officer as he lied his ass off. He should have been an actor.

“Where am
I
going? What are you, my fucking mother?” His words were punchy and disrespectful. Exactly how he should sound if a witness he’d placed in a protective custody went missing, presumed dead. She winced at his crude language in front of Michael but at the same time knew he had to act natural. Plus, cuss words were pretty low on the list of priorities after two days dodging bloodshed and bullets.

“No way, Mr. CIA. I’m done. I’m doing what my boss originally told me to do four days ago. Taking time off so I can keep on doing this job without my head exploding. Is that OK with you or would you like a doctor’s note?”

There was another pause. The guy wasn’t giving up. “Not my fault? I know it wasn’t my fault but I promised them they’d be safe and now they’re—” He cut himself off as though he couldn’t bear to say anything else.

It was a masterful performance and momentary panic hit her. Could Jed be in league with the terrorists? Then she remembered how he’d saved her when cornered in that restaurant kitchen during the mall attack.

Unknown forces were out to get them and, despite her ingrained reticence, if she didn’t allow herself to trust this man, the chances were she and Michael would be dead by morning. If there was one person she believed would keep his word in this whole awful nightmare, it was Jed Brennan. And Vivi would do anything and everything she had to in order to ensure her son was safe.

“Look, Killion, it’s been fun, but I’m done. Find someone else to latch on to and chauffeur you ’round the place. ” His breathing was ragged as if he really believed them to be dead. “If you find them…you can reach me on this number to let me know or email, just…no pictures, all right?”

Killion said something she couldn’t hear. Brennan hung up and caught her gaze in the mirror. There was a lot going on in those dark eyes, none of it good. Two marshals were dead. So was one of the most respected neuroscientists in the country.

“This is all my fault.” She slumped back against the seat.

“Because you invited Hinkle out there?”

“Yes.” She looked at him then, ready for recriminations. It had all happened at her insistence.

Jed shrugged. “He was mentioned in the news article, so it’s possible they put a tail on him on the off-chance you’d want to see him again. Not a bad idea considering Michael’s problems.”

That’s what she should have figured out before she’d asked to see him. Her throat felt as if someone was inside trying to climb out with a grappling hook. Oh, God, how many people were involved in this group? How could they ever be safe?

“Vivi.” Brennan’s stern tone snapped her out of her panic. “It’s also possible there might be a mole somewhere inside law enforcement, feeding the bad guys information. In which case it’s my fault.” He concentrated on the road for a moment letting the words sink in. “Honestly? I don’t know who to trust.”

It surprised her that she wasn’t more shocked. The way he’d snuck them out of the safe house, the way he’d lied to Killion had clued her in.

“We need to figure out what to do. Right now authorities will assume you’re dead and the terrorists might not know for sure either way. We have a small block of time in which to make you disappear.”

It had been bad enough hiding from terrorists, now she had to hide from the good guys too?

“If you want me to take you somewhere that you feel safe, I’ll do that and figure out a way to protect you there. But I have another suggestion. It means trusting me completely.”

She could hear the beat of her heart above the noise of the road. It was too loud and too fast to be reassuring. Emotions sparked from deep within those rich, brown eyes, emotions she couldn’t read.

“I
can
hide you. I can take you somewhere you will be safe until this is over. But I don’t know how long it will take, and we’ll be on our own—you, me and Michael—no marshals, no real backup. And I can’t guarantee Michael any specialized help while we’re there.”

The memory of blood spraying out of Dr. Hinkle’s head made her dry heave, and she put her hand over her mouth and swallowed repeatedly. She didn’t want anyone else drawn into this mess. Didn’t want anyone else to die. The fact he considered her worries about her child significant when they were running for their lives was a little stunning.

She drew in a series of deep breaths and tried to get herself together. “B-before the attack the doctor suggested that perhaps all Michael needed was peace and quiet and time to grieve.” She searched for a tissue and blew her nose. “He said that Michael was processing everything that happened in a perfectly normal way.”

Perfectly normal.

The doctor had been murdered while they’d hidden in the trunk of a car. Her son was now curled up on the floor of the SUV. How could any reaction to this horror be
normal
?

She looked out the window at the bleak, snow-covered landscape.

Part of her wanted to just vanish, disappear, from everyone, including this man who reminded her constantly of the threat they faced. Slip under the radar so far no one would ever find them. No one would hurt them. But with a child like Michael she couldn’t do that without help. She couldn’t even leave him in the car by himself without worrying he’d wander off and not know how to ask for help. And they’d be recognized almost immediately if they went into a store together.

She had to assume someone was watching her little house in North Dakota so she couldn’t go home. And despite holding the pistol earlier she didn’t really know how to use it.

David could probably protect her…he’d rip out her heart and trample her pride in the process, which would be fine, except he’d do worse to Michael. And if there was an insider feeding the bad guys information they might be no safer with David than with anyone else inside the system. Frankly, there was nowhere she felt safer than with Special Agent Jed Brennan. She leaned down and rubbed Michael’s shoulder. He seemed to have drifted off to sleep.