Explosive Attraction (16 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Buresh met Darby and Rafe as soon as they entered the police station. He led them into a conference room where several other detectives were waiting. A folder lay on the table in front of Buresh’s chair.

“Should I stay outside?” Darby asked, feeling out of place and more than a little uncomfortable with Rafe still so angry.

“Nothing that matters has changed,”
Rafe said. “Where I go, you go, until the killer is behind bars.” He pulled out one of the chairs for her.

Nothing that matters?

She clenched her hands, ignoring the chair. “Captain Buresh, I’d prefer to wait in your office. I’m sure I’ll be safe—”

“Dr. Steele,” Buresh interrupted. “You both need to hear this. Please, sit down.”

They all sat, and Rafe turned to Buresh. “You
said there was a major break in the case.”

Buresh cleared his throat, looking extremely uncomfortable. “These guys worked through the night, did some amazing detective work, the best I’ve ever seen. They—”

“Buresh,” Rafe said, his voice impatient.

The captain folded his hands together on top of the folder. “Fullerton isn’t the killer. After checking in with his parole officer that
first time, he must have decided he couldn’t handle the pressure again of living on the outside. Who knows? For whatever reason, he committed suicide.”

Nausea roiled in Darby’s stomach. She clasped a hand to her throat. Under the table, Rafe took her other hand in his. Even though he wasn’t looking at her, even though she’d hurt him and he was still angry, he was trying to comfort her.

She selfishly clutched his hand like a lifeline.

“I’m sure you checked death records when you were trying to find him,” Rafe said, his voice hoarse, as if Fullerton’s death weighed as much on his conscience as it was weighing on Darby’s. “What took so long to figure out he’d killed himself?”

“There was never a death certificate. Apparently he killed himself at his cousin’s house.
His
loving
cousin withdrew all of Fullerton’s money from the bank. Apparently he had several thousand dollars from an inheritance. The cousin buried Fullerton in his backyard and never told anyone.”

“What makes you sure the cousin didn’t kill Fullerton?” Rafe asked.

“There were other witnesses. Took a while, quite a bit of pressure, but we feel we got the whole story.”

Rafe nodded.
“So we still don’t know who the killer is.”

Buresh cleared his throat again. “Actually, we do. He’s Fullerton’s half brother, Kurt Sonntag. Same mother, different fathers. He got sloppy when he took McHenry. It was caught on camera. And we were able to match his prints from McHenry’s office with a partial from an earlier scene. He wasn’t an EOD, like Fullerton, probably because the army wouldn’t
take him. He didn’t pass the psych eval. But he’s knowledgeable about explosives. As a kid, he was a fireworks fanatic who graduated to making his own explosives.”

“We thought everything pointed to Fullerton earlier,” Rafe said. “What makes you sure we’re not making another mistake? Maybe Sonntag is another fall guy, working with the bomber, like the guy who took Mindy.”

Darby’s hand
jerked, but Rafe’s fingers tightened around hers. His thumb traced a slow circle on her wrist, as if trying to soothe her.

“Fullerton got out of prison a year ago,” Rafe continued. “If Sonntag is the bomber, if he wants revenge for his brother’s conviction and suicide, why wait so long?”

Darby saw the regret on Buresh’s face, in the stiff lines of his body, the way he wouldn’t look Rafe
in the eyes. She studied the faces of the handful of detectives sitting at the table. None of them would look at Rafe.

What were they hiding?

Buresh took a deep breath. “Sonntag is a career criminal. He got out of prison a few weeks after Fullerton’s suicide. He began his revenge a year ago. Then he fled to a neighboring county and got picked up for a petty crime, spent eleven months
in lockup. When he got out, he came back here.”

Rafe stared at him, his jaw working, as if he were trying to figure everything out. “You said he began his revenge a year ago. What did you mean?”

Buresh opened the folder in front of him and pulled out a black-and-white photograph. He set it on the table, and pushed it toward Rafe. “This is Sonntag’s mug shot.” He picked up another picture
and set it down beside the first. “And this is a snapshot taken from the P.I.’s office. They’re the same guy. Sonntag is our bomber.”

Rafe stared down at the pictures without moving. His thumb stilled on Darby’s wrist.

Buresh pulled a third picture from the folder. He put it over the top of the mug shot. “And this is the picture you gave me a year ago, from the security system at your
house the night of the home invasion.”

Darby’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Sonntag, the bomber, was the man who’d killed Rafe’s wife.

* * *

D
ARBY
HAD
TRIED
EVERYTHING
she could think of to get Rafe to talk to her. But other than one- or two-word responses, he hadn’t said anything for the past hour. Instead, while the other detectives and Buresh were out trying to locate McHenry
in time to save him, and had issued a BOLO for Sonntag, Rafe refused to leave the police station. He’d wanted to help find Sonntag, but since Buresh wouldn’t let him, Rafe was now in Buresh’s office, typing like a madman on his laptop, trying to figure out on his own where Sonntag might be.

The phone on Buresh’s desk rang, startling Darby. She’d been half dozing in the chair, watching Rafe
type on his computer. He picked up the phone and listened for a minute, then he warned whoever was on the phone to be extra careful on this one. He hung up and looked at Darby.

“They’ve spotted both Sonntag and the P.I. in an abandoned hotel scheduled for demolition, about forty-five minutes west of town. The P.I. has a bomb strapped to his chest and Sonntag is sitting next to him in a chair.
Everyone’s on the way there. Looks like it could be a hostage standoff.”

Relief flooded through Darby. “It’s over then. For us, at least. I mean, they’ve found him. He can’t get away, right? This is good news.”

He shook his head, looking unconvinced.

“It’s not good news?”

“It’s too easy. It doesn’t feel right.”

“You said they saw him. Is Buresh there?”

“Buresh is
there.”

“He knows what Sonntag looks like. Don’t you trust him?”

Rafe tapped his hands on the desk. “I don’t trust
Sonntag.
The bastard killed my wife, and he’s been playing games with us. I just don’t see him being stupid enough to let himself get caught like this.”

“He got caught breaking and entering. He’s obviously not that smart.”

“I read the case file on the B and E a
few minutes ago.” He motioned toward his laptop. “Sonntag was tight with his brother. He was still grieving, high on alcohol and drugs when he broke into that home. That’s the only reason he got caught.” He shoved back from his desk. “Come on, we’re leaving. If this is a decoy, some way to get the station to empty out, I don’t want you caught in the middle. I’m taking you back to the cabin.”

* * *

T
EN
MILES
OUT
OF
TOWN
, Rafe cursed and wheeled the car around in the middle of the road.

Darby grabbed the middle console and armrest to steady herself. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a feeling.”

“A feeling? About what?”

He floored the gas to get around a car, dodging back into his lane when a semi honked its horn, narrowly missing them.

“What are you doing?”
Darby cried out, when Rafe floored the gas again, whipping around two cars this time before yanking the wheel to avoid another car.

“He was giving us clues and we didn’t even realize it. Remember those pictures? The ones of Jake, you and me? What did they all have in common?”

“The courtroom? You’re going to the courthouse?”

“No, it’s Sunday. The courthouse wouldn’t be open. That’s
not where he’s going.”

“Where who’s going?”

“Sonntag.”

“He’s not going anywhere. He’s at a hotel west of town. Surrounded by police, remember?”

He yanked the wheel, heading down a narrow dirt road with oak trees hanging over it, blocking out most of the sunlight. “Think about it. When Sonntag took the A.D.A. to that warehouse, he tied him to a chair, strapped a bomb to him
and left. When he put that bomb on Jake, he took off. He doesn’t stick around to get caught or to blow himself up.”

Darby nodded, agreeing with him, and starting to see where he was going with this. “So, the hotel is a decoy, somehow. They think Sonntag is there with the P.I., but he isn’t.”

“Right. He staged the scene to trick the cops, to get them out of town so he could go after the
most important victim on his list, the one person ultimately responsible for sending his brother away. The one person in common with everyone else in those photographs.”

Darby blinked. “Judge Thompson.”

“Exactly. And in a town this small, everyone in law enforcement knows where Thompson can be found on a Sunday afternoon when the weather is sunny and clear and the wind isn’t up.”

He drove in silence for a while, racing so fast down the narrow, twisting road that Darby had to shut her eyes to keep from becoming a shaking mass of nerves.

He turned the wheel again and raced into a parking lot, passing the startled valets. He didn’t stop at the clubhouse. He didn’t even slow down when the car reached the green. He kept on going, right onto the pristine, manicured lawns
of the Tournament Players Club golf course at Sawgrass.

* * *

D
ARBY
BRACED
HER
HAND
against the dashboard as the car bucked and slid on the soft grass. “What if you’re wrong? What if the hotel isn’t a decoy?”

Rafe glanced over at her. “Then I’m going to be in big trouble.”

“How are you going to find Judge Thompson out here?”

“Just look for a man in a bright orange shirt
with purple-and-yellow-striped pants.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope. He’s as predictable as Renee and her Thursday suits. Which means he should be right around the fifth or sixth hole about now.”

“How do you know all this?”

He gave her a droll look. “Everyone knows about Thompson’s golf habit.”

“I didn’t.”

He shrugged.

“There!” Darby yelled, pointing up the hill.
“Is that him?

An older man in a bright orange shirt was racing down the fairway in a golf cart, coming toward them. He was driving so fast people were diving out of his way. A young teenager was riding with him. And from the look on his face as he held on to the golf cart, he was terrified.

Rafe pulled the car to a stop on the path and jumped out to intercept Thompson. Darby hopped out
and ran after him.

The judge slammed the brakes, making the cart slide sideways, narrowly avoiding Rafe.

Rafe put his hand out as if to steady the older man. “Are you okay, sir?”

Thompson swatted his hand away. “I’m fine, Detective Morgan. Especially now that I’ve found you.”

Rafe exchanged a startled glance with Darby. “
You
were looking for
me,
sir?”

Thompson nodded.
“I was at the fifth hole when this young man found me.” He waved toward the scared-looking teenager still sitting in the golf cart, his hands wrapped around the railing on the side of his seat. His collared shirt bore the TPC logo.

“That young man gave me an envelope that a courier delivered to the clubhouse. As soon as I opened it, I knew I needed to call you.” He leaned into the backseat
of the golf cart and held out a large manila envelope toward Rafe.

“Just a minute, sir.” Rafe pulled his ever-present pair of latex gloves out of his pocket.

He took the envelope and opened it. When he reached inside, instead of a timer, he pulled out a cell phone with a note taped to the back.

Judge Thompson leaned close to Darby. “The note says to give the cell phone to Detective
Rafe Morgan immediately, that a life is at stake. Then it says something like ‘an eye for an eye.’ That’s why I was going to the clubhouse to call him.”

She nodded and watched as Rafe reached back into the envelope. Darby expected him to pull out a picture of Judge Thompson. But when Rafe pulled out the picture, his face went white. Darby rushed to his side. Her stomach sank when she saw
the handsome face smiling up at her from the photograph.

Nick Morgan, Rafe’s brother.

Chapter Seventeen

“Get out. You can’t go with me. It’s too dangerous.” Rafe idled his car in front of the country club, glaring at Darby sitting in the passenger’s seat. “Go inside with Judge Thompson. The club security will keep watch over both of you until the police arrive.”

“What if this is a trick, to split us up?” Darby asked. “Then the bomber grabs me, and you have
to choose between saving Nick or saving me. I saw that ending in
Batman.
It didn’t end so well for the girl.”

Rafe cursed and shoved the car into Drive. He took off, fishtailing out of the parking lot. He headed back down County Road 210, the same two-lane back road they’d taken from St. Augustine. He reached into his shirt pocket for his cell phone.

“I’ll make the call,” Darby said.
“Focus on the road. Who do you want me to call?”

“Buresh. He’s the first contact. Put him on speaker.”

When Buresh was on the phone, Darby held it out between her and Rafe so they could both hear.

“Rafe, I was just about to call you. Sonntag wasn’t in the hotel. It was a setup, a damn cardboard cutout like they have at movie premiers.”

“What about McHenry?” Rafe asked.

“Dead long before we showed up.”

“Then it was a diversion. To get all the cops out of town.”

“Where are you?” Buresh asked.

“Ponte Vedra. I’ve got another envelope and a photograph of my brother Nick.”

Buresh’s gasp was audible through the phone.

“He also left a note,” Rafe said. “‘An eye for an eye,’ which I pretty much read to mean he wants to kill my brother since he
blames me for killing his. Get the guys digging fast on this. I want to know every location in Ponte Vedra that has anything to do with Sonntag’s brother.”

“You really think he’ll lead you to Nick? This could all be a trick.”

“He wanted me in Ponte Vedra, but he didn’t count on me getting here so fast. I was here before the envelope arrived by courier that was supposed to get me here.
I’m counting on that extra time to help me get the drop on him. Now get me an address. Fast!”

Darby ended the call for him.

“What do you think the other phone is for?” Darby asked, pointing to the one sitting in the console, the phone he’d pulled out of the envelope.

“It might be Nick’s phone, or it might be a burn phone to trigger the bomb detonator. I don’t know yet. Just don’t
touch it.”

Rafe’s phone rang, startling both of them. Darby looked at the screen.

“It’s Buresh already.” She pressed Speaker and held the phone between them.

“What have you got?” Rafe asked.

“Two possibles. Fullerton had a house off A1A, but that’s pretty close to us here. I can get a guy out there in fifteen minutes.”

“What’s the other one?”

“A cemetery several miles
off Palm Valley Road.”

Rafe swore. “That’s it. An eye for an eye. Give me the address.”

Buresh gave him the location.

“Bring the cavalry,” Rafe said. “We’re going to need it.”

“You got it,” Buresh said. “Where’s Dr. Steele?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Unfortunately, she’s with me. And I don’t have time to stash her somewhere. There are two lives on the line now, Darby’s and
Nick’s.”

“No,” Darby said. “There are three. He’s after you, too.”

“She’s right,” Buresh said. “Don’t go running in there like John Wayne. Sonntag wants to kill all three of you. Wait for backup.”

“I can’t wait, knowing he’s got my brother.” Rafe nodded at Darby to end the call. He spotted the road he was looking for and slowed the car to make the turn.

The phone rang just
as he started down the gravel road. Not his phone.

The phone that was sitting in the console.

“What do I do?” Darby asked.

The phone rang again.

Rafe’s eyes widened and he slammed the brakes, skidding to a halt. “Come on,” he yelled. “Get out. Now, now, now.” He unclicked his seat belt and unclicked Darby’s. He grabbed her in his arms and hauled her with him out the driver’s
side.

He set her on her feet and pulled her with him toward the trees. “Run, Darby! Run!”

The car exploded behind them, catapulting them both into the air.

* * *

“S
TUPID
,
STUPID
,
STUPID
,”
Rafe groaned. He held his hand to his head, wincing. He’d assumed the bomber wanted to fool him, get him to use the phone from the envelope, maybe to search through called numbers, looking
for clues. He should have realized from the beginning the phone was the detonator. The bomber probably rigged a bomb under his car when he took Darby to the station.

He forced himself into a sitting position and turned toward Darby.

She wasn’t there.

The fog in his brain lifted and panic slammed into him. “Darby, where are you?”

But he already knew the answer.

Sonntag
had her.

* * *

R
ATS
SQUEAKED
NEXT
to Darby. She swatted at one of the furry bodies, and it fell with a sharp cry into the water. A roach fell onto her face and she screamed.

“Hey, darlin’. Wake up. It’s bad, I know, but I’d rather share the nightmare with you than see you suffer by yourself.”

Darby opened her eyes. Nick was staring down at her, his brow furrowed with concern.
What was Nick doing down in the well with her? She blinked. She wasn’t in a well.

She was somewhere much, much worse.

She sat up. Nick sat next to her, his back braced against a marble wall.

“We’re in a...a—”

“Mausoleum,” he said. “Or crypt, if you prefer. Kind of a smelly old one at that, but not for long.” He gestured toward the corner a few feet away.

Three steel pipes
sat on the concrete floor with wires running out of them, and a timer sitting on top. Darby’s breath caught in her throat. “I don’t suppose you DEA guys know how to disable a bomb?”

“Nope, afraid I missed that class. I don’t suppose you’ve taken a first aid class?”

“First aid? Why—”

Nick held his shirt open.

Darby’s hands flew to her throat. The shaft of a knife stuck out from
Nick’s abdomen. Blood trickled down from the wound. “Oh, my gosh, Nick. Oh, my gosh.”

He laughed, then winced. “Not exactly the words I used when it happened.”

Darby bent down on her hands and knees, studying his wound. “It’s not bleeding much. I don’t think we should pull the knife out, though.”

“Hurts like hell. I don’t suppose you brought the bomb squad with you, before you were
caught?”

“No, but I did bring your brother. Or rather, he brought me. Our car exploded.”

Nick turned pale.

“No, no, Rafe wasn’t in the car. He pulled me out. We both got out. But I don’t know where he is now.” She shoved to her feet and rushed to the bomb to look at the timer.

They had less than fifteen minutes.

“I’m sure he got away, and he’s bringing help,” Nick said.

“Right, I’m sure he is.”

Darby exchanged a glance with Nick, and realized they were both lying to each other.

* * *

T
HE
TRAIL
THROUGH
the woods was easy for Rafe to follow. Sonntag hadn’t bothered to try to hide his footprints.

He wanted Rafe to find him.

Which meant Rafe was walking into a trap. But he didn’t have a choice. He had to find Darby and Nick.

He didn’t
know how long he’d been in a blast-induced stupor. How much of a head start did Sonntag have? A minute? Five? More? Rafe clenched his hand around his pistol.

Hold on, Darby. Hold on, Nick. I’m coming for you.
Hold on.

* * *

“I
T
’
S
A
PIPE
BOMB
,” Nick offered, his voice weak, barely above a whisper now.

Darby rolled her eyes. “Even I can figure that much out.” She crouched over
the ominous-looking bundle of pipes and wires, looking for...what? A sign that said Pull Here To Disable Bomb?

“Darby.”

“Leave me alone, Nick. I’m thinking.”

“Darby.”

The urgent, low-pitched tone had her jerking around. Rafe stood at the doorway, separated from her by three feet and a very strong set of iron bars.

A sob escaped her as she ran to him. “Rafe, thank God you’re
okay. We’re trapped. And there’s a bomb. I don’t know what to do. I don’t—”

“Are you hurt?” He reached a hand through the bars and grasped her hand in his.

“What? No, no, I’m fine. I guess the haircut wasn’t as much a disguise as we’d hoped, though, huh?” She tried for a smile but failed miserably.

He looked past her, and his jaw tightened. “Nick.”

Darby heard the pain in his
voice. She turned. Nick’s eyes were closed. She turned back to Rafe. “He’s alive. See his chest rising? But he’s been stabbed. We need to get him to a hospital.”

Rafe looked over his shoulder. He shoved his gun in his holster and grasped the bars. He strained and pulled, the cords standing out in his neck. He gave up, panting. “It’s no use. Buresh is on the way, with the bomb squad. They’ll
have bolt cutters. We’ll get you out of here.”

“We don’t have much time. The bomb...maybe you can tell me what to do. Do I just pull the wires out?”

He grabbed her hand when she started to turn away. “Don’t touch it. One spark and it’s over. See the timer?”

“Yes.”

“How much time is left?” He half turned, watching the woods behind him.

Darby looked at the timer, careful
not to touch it. Her heart plummeted and she ran back to Rafe. “Seven minutes, give or take. What do we do?”

His gaze darted back and forth, searching out every corner of the mausoleum. Then his gaze met hers. “There may be a way. But you’ll have to be strong. And you’ll have to work fast.”

“Anything. What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. He plopped it
in her hand.

“Do you want me to cut a wire?”

“No. There’s nothing you can do to stop the bomb.”

She grabbed the bars in her hands, pulling at them in frustration. “For a bomb tech, you don’t seem to be very good at disabling bombs.”

His mouth quirked up in a smile. “I promise I’m a lot better with a bomb suit and appropriate tools.” His smile faded. He looked at her with what
could only be called pity as he reached out and cupped her face with one hand and pointed behind her with the other. “You’re going to have to remove one of those marble squares on that far wall. There’s a screwdriver on one end of that knife. Use that.”

“Marble squares?” She looked where he was pointing. Her throat tightened and she could barely breathe. “But...that’s where they put the
coffins
.”

“It’s your only chance. You’re strong. You can do this. You have to open up one of those squares and crawl inside.”

* * *

D
ARBY
’
S
FACE
WENT
PALE
and she started shaking. “No, I can’t... I can’t.”

“You have to. Pick one without a name on the front. That means it’s empty. It won’t be sealed. Just four little screws, one on each corner. Then use the knife to cut the caulking
around the square. It should pop right off. Crawl inside. I don’t know if it will totally shield you from the blast, but it’s the only chance you have. Hurry, Darby. It’s the only way.”

The fear and panic in her eyes was killing him.

“What about Nick?” she asked. “I can’t just leave him here.”

Grief nearly buckled his knees. He looked at his brother, so still and quiet, lying on
the floor. “There’s nothing you can do for him now.”

“But...I can’t. Don’t you see? I can’t go in there. And I can’t leave him. I can’t abandon him.”

He grabbed both her hands and pulled her close against the bars. “Look at me.” He gave her a small shake. “Look. At. Me.”

Her chest was rising and falling too fast. She was close to hyperventilating. He squeezed her hands and gently
shook them again until she met his gaze.

“You
are
going to take off one of those marble squares, Darby. You
are
going to crawl into that dark, tight hole. And do you know why you’re going to do that?”

Her lower lip trembled. “No, why?”

“Because you won’t be alone. I won’t abandon you. You’re going to survive. And after...after the explosion, I’ll be here for you. I won’t abandon
you. I’ll search for you. And I’ll find you.”

She blinked several times. “You don’t understand. You don’t know... It’s not that I won’t. It’s that I
can’t.
” Her voice broke on the last word.

How much longer did she have? Four minutes? Three? He had to get her in one of those holes in the wall, or she would die. How could he make her do something that terrified her more than the idea
of a bomb exploding and ripping her to pieces?

His gaze shot to Nick. Darby was softhearted. She wanted to save everyone, and above all, she never wanted to abandon someone in need, whether they deserved it or not. He’d thought that was a flaw. Now he knew better. It was her strength. And he’d use that strength to save her life. She wouldn’t go in that dark, tight hole to save herself.

But she would do it to save someone else.

“You’re right,” he said, purposely making his voice hard. “You can’t leave Nick to die. But I can’t save him. You have to save him.”

Her eyes widened. “But, how—”

“Get the marble square off. Slap Nick. Punch him. Do whatever it takes to wake his lazy ass. Then make him crawl into the hole behind you.” He didn’t think she’d be able to
wake Nick. And even if she did, Nick would probably be too weak to move. But at least with the marble square off, her preservation instincts might kick in and she’d dive into the hole before the timer ran out. “Check the timer. How much more time do we have?”

She ran to the bomb. “Three minutes!”

“Save my brother, Darby. Please. You’re the only chance he’s got. Go!”