Fear No Evil (38 page)

No answer.

Jack slammed his boot down hard on the doorknob and the old lock broke.

Steam and moisture escaped the room. Jack pulled back the shower curtain, for a split second thinking Lucy had killed herself.

But she wasn’t there at all.

THIRTY-FIVE

K
ATE DROVE
to the Kincaid family house using the directions Quinn had given her off the Internet. Something was bothering her and she couldn’t figure out what.

All she wanted was to see Dillon and tell him she was sorry she’d been so weird about meeting his family. The fact that he wanted her to meant everything to her. She would just suck it up and put on a happy face and do it for Dillon.

The Kincaids lived in an older, well-maintained middle-class neighborhood of post–World War II houses. Small bungalows interspersed with more modern two stories. Large, deep front yards and lots of trees.

Movement to the right caught her eye. A jogger?

She looked at the house numbers: 340, 342, 344. That was it, the modest two-story house with a yard bursting with color.

Someone was lurking outside the house.

She slammed on the brakes and jumped from the car.

That was no jogger. Someone was jumping over the fence. Not into the Kincaid backyard, but coming
from
the Kincaid backyard.

Kate ran, caught sight of the suspect. Long dark hair in a ponytail. Five foot seven, one hundred thirty pounds.

Lucy.

“Lucy Kincaid! Stop!”

Lucy looked over her shoulder. “No. Go away!” She ran faster.

Kate sprinted after her, tackled her on the front lawn two houses down.

“Get off me! Get off me!” Lucy screamed. “He’s going to kill him. Let me go!”

Kate held her firmly, but pulled her into her lap, pinning Lucy’s arms to her sides. She didn’t want to hurt her, but there was no way she was letting Lucy go.

“Lucy, stop. Why are you running?”

Lucy stopped struggling. “Trevor is going to kill Dillon. You have to let me go. Please.” Her voice quivered in panic and fear.

Kate’s heart pounded. “You mean Adam Scott?”

“Right, Adam. He has Dillon.”

“How do you know?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Jack run from the Kincaid house, gun drawn. He saw her and Lucy and made a beeline for them.

“I saw. He called me.”

“Adam Scott called you?”

“Yes. Thirty minutes ago. My time is almost up. He’s going to kill Dillon! I have to save him.”

“Why do you think Adam Scott has Dillon?” Kate asked as Jack stood next to them, his eyes scanning the area. Her entire body tensed. If it was true…

“My phone.”

Kate loosened her hold on Lucy, who reached into her pocket and handed Kate her phone. Kate opened it, looked at the last message sent.

Dillon, shirt and face bloodied, handcuffed to a bed.

“Get her inside,” Jack said.

“Come on, Lucy. Let’s go inside.” Kate helped her up.

“No! I’m supposed to be at Dillon’s house right now! I’m going to be late.”

“Is Dillon there?” Kate asked.

“He said he’d contact me when I got there.”

“This is Dillon’s house,” Jack said. He pointed to the nightstand. “That’s Justin, our nephew, in the photograph on the nightstand.”

Scott had contacted Lucy at 4:50 that afternoon. He had probably been waiting for Dillon when he arrived home.

It was 5:20 p.m.

Kate stood. “This is going to end right now. I’m going.”

“No,” Jack said. “He’ll kill you.”

“Not right away.” She stared at Jack. “You take Lucy back to the house. I’ll go in.”

“No way am I letting you go without backup.”

Jack was right. “Okay,” she agreed. “I need a layout of Dillon’s house.”

“Let’s go inside and talk to my dad. I’ve never been in Dillon’s house.”

And at this moment, Kate knew Jack regretted it.

Inside, Dillon’s father, Pat Kincaid, drew a makeshift blueprint while Kate called Quinn and told him what had happened. He was calling in a local SWAT team.

Kate looked at Pat’s drawing. “Are these two the only doors?”

Pat nodded. “Front and back. The back leads right into the kitchen. The dining room separates the kitchen from the living room, then there’s a short hall here, his office here, a bathroom, and his bedroom here.”

His bedroom was in the rear of the house.

“Where are the windows?”

Pat drew them in. “Three, one large window on this wall, and two narrow windows on either side of the bed.”

“I’m going to the front door. Alone. He won’t let me in if he sees anyone. Jack, as soon as Dillon is alone in the bedroom, you go in through this window”—she indicated the one in the rear—“and get him out.”

“What about you?” Jack said. “You can’t go in there unarmed, and he’s not going to open the door without a hostage.”

“He’s cocky. I keep my hands up, he’ll open the door to me. Or unlock it. We can wait for the SWAT team to get into place, but I don’t think we have that much time.”

“You think he’s going to kill Dillon?” Pat said somberly.

“As soon as Dillon is of no benefit, yes. But right now he’s safe. Without a live hostage, Scott knows he can’t win.”

Lucy’s cell phone rang. It sat in the middle of the table.

Kate caught her eye. “Answer it. Tell him your brother Jack is sitting outside your bedroom door and you can’t get out. Buy time.”

Lucy nodded, shaking. She answered the phone.

“Hello.”

“You’re late.”

“Jack is sitting outside my door. I can’t get out.”

“Climb out the window.”

“I’ll try, but—”

“Five minutes or Dillon is dead.”

Suddenly, an earsplitting scream came from the phone. Kate sucked in her breath.

Dillon.

Then another scream.

Dillon sat on his hand to stop the bleeding. He’d been dizzy for a minute, the pain clouding his thoughts. But he had to push past it. The worst of the pain was gone, only a violent throbbing in his palm that reminded him of the unexpected attack. It matched the throbbing in his thigh.

Scott had left the room as soon as he pulled the knife from Dillon’s hand. Dillon had never felt so helpless in his life. Was Lucy going to walk into the trap?

Stay away, Luce. Don’t do it. Don’t worry about me.

He’d find a way out. He had to.

He pulled at the handcuff, but his hand was too big to slip out. He had nothing but books in his nightstand drawer. No paperclips or pins to try and pick the lock. Not that he’d be able to use his left hand. Already his fingers were numb and felt thick. The tendon may have been severed.

But that was the least of his problems.

He looked around his spare room. If Lucy came, Scott had to have some other place to take her. He wouldn’t keep her here—someone would eventually come to the house, looking for him or Lucy. If Lucy didn’t come, as soon as he was missed tonight Jack or Kate would call or come by.

Scott wouldn’t kill Lucy, at least not right away. She had become Monique, the girl he’d killed all those years ago. But Kate? She stood no chance against Scott’s rage. Scott viewed her as his personal demon in the flesh, the woman he had to destroy to regain control of his life. It wasn’t logical to anyone but Adam Scott, but Dillon saw Scott’s twisted reasoning. He prayed Kate didn’t come looking for him.

As for him, Dillon knew he could die and Adam Scott wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse.

Kate called Quinn from her cell phone while Jack drove his SUV the long way to Dillon’s house, parking around the corner so if Scott were looking he wouldn’t see them.

“We’re in place,” she told Quinn. “He gave Lucy five minutes. It’s already been four.”

“He’s not going to kill Dillon. That was a threat to get Lucy to move.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He needs a hostage, Kate. Don’t be reckless. SWAT ETA is three minutes.”

“Dillon’s already injured, Quinn. I can’t let him bleed to death. I’m going. I’ll count on SWAT being in place.”

“Kate—”

Kate slammed her cell shut, looked at Jack. “Ready?”

He nodded. He was letting Kate approach first. Then he’d go through backyards into Dillon’s, go directly to his bedroom and get him out.

Kate had a knife and a gun. She would kill Adam Scott without hesitation if she could. But first she had to assess the situation. Scott loved explosives. She wouldn’t put it past him to wire the entire house and blow them all up.

No, he wouldn’t kill himself. He was much too arrogant for that. That knowledge could buy her some time.

She pushed the fear that Dillon was seriously injured—or dead—from her mind. The scream had been sudden, brutal, solely to torment Lucy and force her to act. Scott would kill Dillon, but not until he had another hostage.

She took a deep breath and walked up the porch steps. She saw movement behind the blinds and resisted the instinct to draw her gun.

The door opened before she knocked, a gun aimed at her chest.

Adam Scott, the man she’d dreamed of confronting for the last five years, stood there, surprise on his face.

He had darkened his hair, wore brown contacts to hide his ice-blue eyes, probably to elude security when he left Seattle. But face-to-face, there was no doubt that this was the man who had shot Evan and kidnapped Paige. This was the man who had killed an innocent woman Saturday night because he couldn’t kill Lucy. This was the bastard who was holding hostage the man she loved.

She itched to shoot him. Only days ago she would have lunged at him, knowing she’d die at the same time he did.

But today she had a future and she wasn’t willing to sacrifice herself without a fight. Yet there was no way she was letting Adam Scott walk out of this house alive.

He smiled.

“Well, I was right about something,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

He didn’t respond. He grabbed her arm and she jerked back.

“Don’t touch me,” she said.

He pointed the gun at her head. “Get in. Now.”

She stepped across the threshold. He spun her around, held her by the neck, looked right and left outside the house. “I know you didn’t come alone.”

“Aren’t you smart.”

“But it doesn’t matter.” He disarmed her, finding both her knife and gun. She’d expected as much. But at least the weapons were in the house. He put the gun in the small of his back and the knife on the top of a bookshelf. She wouldn’t be able to reach it easily.

He patted her down again, pinching and hurting her on her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. She didn’t cry out.

He pushed her onto the couch. “Where’s Lucy?”

“I came instead.”

“I’m killing you,” he said matter-of-factly. “I want Lucy.”

“You can’t always get what you want.”

He punched her with his fist. Her head snapped back and she winced, but didn’t speak.

“She’ll come. I’ll cut off her precious brother’s hand, and she’ll come.”

“She can’t. Jack is sitting on her. They’ll never let her out of the house. If Dillon has to die, they accept that.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” He stared at her incredulously.

“On the contrary, I think you’re one of the most brilliant killers I’ve ever faced. Putting you in prison will be very satisfying for me.”

He laughed. Kate raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. Everything Dillon had told her about Adam Scott swirled around in the back of her mind. His huge ego, deep arrogance, hatred of women, sexual dysfunction. And, above all, that he didn’t believe he could be caught. He’d walked free for too long. He thought he’d never face imprisonment.

“You’re right. I didn’t come alone. The feds are all over this place. So kill Dillon, kill me, but you’ll be captured or dead.”

“You do think I’m stupid. The feds would never sacrifice a civilian for the ‘common good.’” He laughed again.

“You killed two federal agents. One civilian is collateral damage.”

“You’re good, but I don’t believe you.” He shook his head, a smile still on his cold, hard lips. “But it doesn’t matter. Even if they are willing to kill Dillon Kincaid, they’re not willing to kill a couple dozen innocent civilians.”

He leaned over to where he had his computer set up on a table. The fear Kate had kept restrained as she walked into this situation began to seep out. He had a program running, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“See, I’ve been around with not much to do over the last day or so. Except make a couple bombs. One of them is in the engine of a black SUV I noticed parked in front of Lucy’s house. Belongs to Jack, doesn’t it? Wonder where it is now.”

He tapped a couple of buttons.

An explosion rocked the house.

Scott shook his head, a satisfied smirk cutting across his lips. “Well, Kate, you weren’t lying. You didn’t come alone. Hope Jack got out of his truck in time. Or not.”

He held out the cell phone he’d taken from her pocket.

“Call whoever you brought with you. I want Lucy Kincaid. Now. Or I’ll continue blowing up targets all over San Diego.”

THIRTY-SIX

“W
HAT THE
HELL
was that?” her father exclaimed. Deep concern clouded his face.

Lucy feared the worst. Jack and Kate and Dillon, who had saved her life, were all in jeopardy. What if they died because of her? Because she’d been so stupid as to get involved with that evil man Trevor Conrad in the first place.

“I’m going to my room,” she said, jumping up.

“I’ll come with you,” her mother said, distracted. They heard sirens in the distance.

Carina and Nick came in through the front door. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. There was an explosion.”

“We heard. There’s smoke coming from about a block away from Dillon’s house. Agent Peterson just called us about the hostage situation.”

Lucy’s cell phone rang. Fear squeezed every cell in her body. It was him, she knew, telling her everyone was dead. And it was her fault.

“Lucy!” Carina exclaimed. “Who’s that?”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. Carina picked up the phone. “Who’s this?” Relief crossed her face, quickly replaced by fear. “I’ll take care of it.” She hung up. “Adam Scott planted a bomb in Jack’s truck. That’s what exploded.”