Dangerous Reunion (Love Inspired Suspense) (17 page)

The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told Kate that Dillon didn’t want just Brock. There was no way he’d leave three witnesses. When Dillon left, she, Brock and her two sisters would all be dead.

B
rock stopped the car on the island’s main road at the turnoff to Kate’s house. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the car carrying the two ATF agents pull to a stop behind him. Austin had insisted they come as backup. The agreement was, however, that the two men would approach the house only if Austin summoned them.

Brock gripped the steering wheel and turned his head to stare at Austin. “The house is down this road. I’m going to let you out here. You can work your way down the beach and come up over the dune ridge to the back door. He said they were in the kitchen. There’s a small window over the sink. Maybe you can see in and know what’s happening.”

Austin nodded. “Does the back door open into the kitchen?”

“No. It opens into a small utility room. Unless they’ve remodeled, it’s a narrow room with a washer and dryer on one side and a closet and sink on the other.”

Austin pursed his lips and stared through the windshield. “I don’t have to tell you that we’re dealing an unstable character. He’s killed four people already and one or two more probably won’t bother him at all.”

“I know.”

Austin took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle. “Be careful, Gentry.”

“You, too, Whitman.”

The agent crouched low and ran toward the dune that skirted the road. When he’d disappeared onto the beach, Brock glanced in the rearview mirror again, waved to the agents behind and put the car in gear. He eased down on the accelerator, and the car inched forward. As he approached the house, his heartbeat increased until his tight chest felt as if it would burst.

He’d been here many times in the past, but never on a life-or-death mission like now. The last time he’d come had been the night of Doug’s death. He and Kate had sat on the beach, and she had talked to him of her faith in God. He’d come a long way in his journey toward finding God since then, but there were things he still questioned. Kate believed God always walked with you wherever you went. He wanted to believe God was with him right now. But was He?

Brock stopped the car in the house’s front yard and dropped his head to rest on his hands that gripped the steering wheel. He felt so alone. He’d been in dangerous situations before, but he’d never experienced one like this. A madman held captive the woman he loved and her two sisters. Only he and Austin could put a stop to their almost certain death. And they needed some divine intervention if they were to succeed.

If God was with him, Brock needed to know now. His lips began to move in silent prayer.
God, I feel so alone, but I have to help Kate and her sisters. Don’t let them die. Please don’t bring them this far in finding their brother to have it all be for nothing. All I want is to know You’re watching over us. Kate believes it. Just show me. Please show me.

He didn’t move but sat still, waiting for the revelation of God’s presence he needed. He didn’t know how God would speak to him, but if He was real, He’d do something. Brock waited, but nothing happened.

The heavens didn’t open to reveal a blinding light that carried the voice of God to earth. Nor did his heart fill with wonder at God’s message spilling into his soul. There was nothing. He groaned and shook his head. Nothing. No assurance whatsoever that anyone or anything watched him. Why had he thought God could love a person like him—one who had broken the heart of the only woman he’d ever loved, hated his father for years and been the cause of an innocent man’s death?

He opened the car door and stepped out. He squared his shoulders and took a faltering step toward the house. He placed his foot on the first of the front porch steps and froze. A distant cry reached his ears. He turned his head to stare toward the sun that was slowly sinking in the west, and he heard it again. The call of a Black-crowned Night Heron.

His skin warmed from the blood that pounded in his veins. He remembered the night he and Kate sat on the beach and she’d told him how she heard God’s voice in all the sounds of Ocracoke. They’d heard a Black-crowned Night Heron that night. Kate said dusk was their feeding time, the time when she could hear God’s voice in their call. The sound of the bird’s cry drifted over the dunes once again, and Brock knew the prayer he’d whispered in the car had just been answered.

God had spoken to him in the voice of a bird, and His message that He controlled the situation inside the house pierced Brock’s heart. God did care about what happened to His children.

Tears filled Brock’s eyes, and he stared upward. He wasn’t alone. This was God’s battle, not his and not Austin’s. They were there merely as God’s messengers, and whatever happened, God was in control.

A new strength flowed through him, and he mounted the steps with an assurance he had never felt before. On the porch he gripped the doorknob, pushed the door open and stepped into the living room. His footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as he walked forward.

He stopped in the middle of the living room and glanced around. A dish towel lay on the floor in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Nothing else appeared out of place. He took a deep breath and eased forward.

“Kate. Are you in here?”

Her voice drifted from the back of the house. “We’re in the kitchen, Brock. Be careful. He has a gun.”

“I’m coming in,” he called out. He held his hands in front of him as he eased around the door into the kitchen. “I’m unarmed.”

The scene inside the kitchen hit him like a jolt of electricity. The horror of seeing Kate tied in a chair gave way to surprise at Dillon McAllister, dressed in the same running shorts and T-shirt he’d worn earlier today, standing behind her with a gun to her head. The sight of a hypodermic needle lying on the table beside Kate’s chair sent chills up his spine.

Dillon smiled. “We’ve been waiting for you, Brock.”

Brock shook his head in disbelief. Dillon? A murderer? It wasn’t possible that the person who had taunted Kate and killed four people could be the man who’d occupied a room next to his at the Island Connection. Not the man he’d laughed and talked with for the past week. He took a step closer. “D-Dillon,” he sputtered. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to Kate?”

Dillon sighed. “I’ve already told Kate. It’s not about her, Brock. I like Kate a lot. She just has the wrong friends.”

The answer made no sense. “Wrong friends? But how could you know any of her friends? You told us you’d never been to Ocracoke, that you were a college professor here to study the island’s history. Was that a lie?”

“I’m afraid so. I’ve never been so bored in my life as I was traipsing through all those salt marshes while Grady rattled on about his famous ancestor.”

Brock raked his fingers through his hair. “This is crazy. Why did you go to so much trouble because you say Kate has the wrong friends?”

Dillon rolled his eyes. “Brock, don’t you get it? I only used Kate to get to the one person that I hate more than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

“Who?”

Dillon’s eyes darkened, and pure hatred lined his face. “You.”

Brock gasped and drew back in surprise. “Me? I never saw you before you showed up at Treasury’s bed-and-breakfast.”

“I know. And I only came there because I knew that was where you were planning to stay.” Dillon smiled. “You see, Brock, I’ve had a private investigator following your every move for months. When he found out you were taking some time off, he went to your partner’s favorite hangout and bought him a drink. One thing led to another and before the night was over, your friend and partner was so drunk he never remembered talking about how you were going to Ocracoke Island to try and make amends with the only woman you’ve ever loved. He even knew the name of the bed-and-breakfast.” He nudged Kate on the shoulder with the gun. “I guess it’s true what they say. Police officers share everything with their partners.”

Kate’s face hadn’t shown any reaction to Dillon’s words the whole time he spoke. Brock licked his lips and moved closer. “What did I ever do to you, Dillon?”

His features hardened, and a snarl erupted from his lips. “Maybe I need to introduce myself. My name isn’t Dillon McAllister. It’s Robert Sterling Jr.”

The name slammed into Brock’s head like a freight train, and he reeled. “You’re Sterling’s son?”

“Yes.”

Kate frowned and twisted her head to stare at Dillon, then looked back at Brock. “His father was the man who was executed?”

Brock nodded. “Yes.”

Dillon pressed the gun tighter against Kate’s head. Brock’s skin burned from the hatred raging in Dillon’s eyes. “Can you even start to imagine what it was like for my father on death row all those years for a crime he didn’t commit? Then to be executed when you knew the truth?” He glared at Brock. “You could have saved him, but you didn’t.”

Dillon’s eyes blinked several times before his gaze darted about the room. His hand shook, and Brock feared he might discharge the pistol at any moment. He had to keep Dillon distracted from the gun. He needed to keep him talking long enough to give Austin time to get to the back of the house. “I didn’t know he was innocent, Dillon.”

“Call me Robert!” The shouted words rattled against the walls.

Brock licked his lips. “All right, Robert. I left a message for my partner to check out the man’s story. He never saw it. I’m sorry your father died. It was a horrible mix-up.”

“Mix-up?” he roared. The gun dangled in Robert’s limp hand. “It can’t be undone. My father died an agonizing death by lethal injection, and you call it a mix-up? Well, how about another one.” He reached for the syringe on the table.

Brock’s blood chilled when he saw that the protective cap had already been removed. The needle gleamed in the light from the ceiling fixture. Brock held his hand up and inched forward. “I don’t understand, Robert. How did you pull off everything you did on the island? For instance, Doug’s death.”

Robert laughed. “If you remember, I was supposed to meet Grady at ten that morning. I’d followed that deputy for a few days and knew what his early morning schedule was like. I beat him to the Pirate Creek Road that morning and pretended to have car trouble. When he stopped to help, I killed him.”

Kate’s eyes blazed with anger. She sucked in her breath. “How about the night of the play? I saw you with Sam and Tracey. How did you manage that?”

Robert shrugged. “That was no problem. I had another pirate costume in my car that was parked nearby. I changed and was back to the festival before you were through looking at Brock’s injuries.”

Brock inched closer to Robert. “What about the notes? Why did you use song titles?”

“That was in honor of my father. While he sat in isolation on death row in a cell about the size of a walk-in closet, his only contact with the outside world was from the small radio the prison authorities let him have. He spent hours listening to music, most of it the oldies. It was like he was reliving his life again.”

“I know that must have been hard.” Brock licked at his lips. “But I don’t think your father would have wanted you to hurt innocent people. Don’t hurt another one. Kate has done nothing to deserve what you’ve planned for her.”

Robert glanced down at Kate. His body tensed. “What about the way I’ve suffered? I couldn’t help my father, and now you can’t help Kate. I want you to hurt like I did when my father was killed. An eye for an eye, so to speak.”

The sight of Dillon’s thumb on the plunger paralyzed Brock, and he gasped. “Be careful, Robert. I’m begging you not to hurt Kate.”

Robert laughed and moved the needle closer to the vein in Kate’s neck. “Just one little prick, and it will be all over.”

“No!” Brock cried. “Let Kate and her sisters go, and take me, instead. After all, it’s me you hate, not them.”

Robert’s wild laugh pierced Brock’s ears. Robert shook his head. “Do you really love her so much that you’d give your life for her?”

Brock dropped his gaze to Kate’s face and let it wander over her. In that moment the past six years washed away, and he saw them as they were then, a couple who loved each other with a deep passion. It had never changed for him.

He nodded. “I do. I love her so much I would willingly give my life for hers.”

Robert chuckled and leaned toward Kate. “Isn’t that touching? He loves you, Kate.” He straightened and stared at Brock. “I loved a woman, too, but she left me when my father was executed. She said I had become too obsessed with revenge. So you see, Brock, you not only took my father from me, but you drove my wife away, too.” His eyes hardened. “You’ve got to pay for that.”

Brock glanced at the window and caught a brief glimpse of Austin’s face before he disappeared from view. He had to keep Robert occupied. He moved closer to the table.
Keep his mind on me instead of Kate,
Brock thought.

Brock eased closer. “Let’s talk about this, Robert. You don’t want to hurt Kate. You really want me. Isn’t there some way we could work out a trade?”

Robert shook his head. “No trade. My father died by lethal injection, and you’re going to watch Kate die that way, too.” He smiled down at Kate. “Don’t worry. Yours will be over much quicker than my father’s was.”

Robert touched the needle to Kate’s skin. She clamped her lips closed but made no sound.

“Stop!” The word sprang from Brock’s lips. “Don’t do this. I beg you not to hurt Kate.”

Robert hesitated and pulled the syringe back. “You beg me?” he scoffed. “Where was justice when my father begged for it?” His gaze raked Brock. “You really do love her, don’t you?”

“I do. Please don’t hurt her. Let her and her sisters go, and I’ll take their place. After all, I’m the one you want.”

Robert narrowed his eyes and stared at Brock. “I’m sorry I can’t oblige you today. I decided before I ever came here that Kate was going to die so you would know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” He darted a glance toward the bedroom. “But you don’t think I’d leave any witnesses, do you? Kate goes first, then you and finally the sisters who are lying tied up on the bed.”

Kate’s leg twitched. Brock suspected she’d begun to lose the control she’d always had over her emotions with the mention of her sisters. He had no doubt that she would willingly give her life to save Betsy and Emma, but at the moment she was helpless.