Hunted, A Romantic Suspence Novel (13 page)

It was the one thing she couldn’t handle now—not on top of his tenderness. The dam burst. She tore her lips away from his.

Her body shaking, she couldn’t stop the soft wail that escaped her or the torrent of tears that flowed unchecked across her cheeks. She curled herself into the warm shelter of Matt’s body, keening from all the pain and suffering she’d endured.

The reality of everything that had happened to her in the past three days hit her like a tidal wave.

“Someone…is trying…to kill…me.” She clung to Matt’s shirt, needing to get closer to his warmth. The shaking grew worse. “Three…three…times.”

He wrapped his arms around her and slowly rocked her. “I know sweetheart, I know.”

“Nightmare’s…coming…true.” She hiccupped. A second wave of tears hit her. “So…so…long…alone. No one…then you came…to my…rescue.”

She found herself lifted in Matt’s strong arms and carried to the sofa. Still clutching his shirt, her tears soaked the cotton as he settled her on his lap. She turned her face so her ear pressed against the steady beating of his heart. His warm hands continued to rub up and down her arms and the uninjured part of her back. Their heat and strength soothed her.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

He murmured the words over and over against the top of her head. His voice rumbled in his chest against her cheek, sending an odd feeling of comfort through her. Slowly the monsoon of tears ebbed, until she closed her eyes, reveling in the calm sea she’d found in Matt’s arms. Emotional exhaustion took its toll. Her eyes drooping, she didn’t try to fight it.

Long after he felt her calm down and her body slump against his, Matt continued to rock her. He whispered words of reassurance and acceptance, as much for his own need as hers. Steel gray clouds, filled with the snow the weathermen had predicted, darkened the afternoon sky before Matt had the courage to release his hold on her.

Careful not to wake her, he eased her onto the overstuffed floral sofa in the sunroom. He smoothed her hair off her face, pressed a kiss to her temple then pulled a green and yellow afghan over her.

How long had she held those tears inside? Any other woman would’ve given in to the past two days’ stress the minute her car exploded. Yet she handled danger like an everyday occurrence. It had taken kisses on her scars to break through that hard shell she showed the world.

One hand resting gently on her back, he felt the ancient scars’ telltale ridges beneath the cotton shirt.

How had she endured such torture?

He wanted to kill Strict. Hell, he wanted to find every member of that damn cult and treat them to the same torture they allowed to happen to her.

Signaling the dogs to lay near the sofa to guard Katie, he strode from the room.

He needed to hit something.

* * * * *

“Exactly when were you going to inform me you had a witness missing, Castello?”

Frank watched the vein on his boss’ forehead bulge and throb, a sure sign his ass was on the line. Jeff Davis was known for his calm, methodical approach to problems. When it came to solving a messy situation though, Jeff could play the hard-ass with the best of them.

“It started out as a simple retrieval, Captain. Nothing more than picking her up at her work. Then it all went to hell.” Castello ran his hand across the stubble on his face. He hadn’t slept, shaved, or showered in over forty-eight hours. “To be honest, I think the department has a bigger problem than just a missing witness.”

“Besides a dead retired Marshal?”

Frank winced. Still raw with pain over his partner’s death, he’d spent the entire night and most of the morning with the state FBI forensic team and the local sheriff working the crime scene at Pete’s cabin. But the captain was right. He’d kept him in the dark and now Pete’s death escalated the situation. The media would go on a feeding frenzy.

“Captain, I think we have a leak in the department. The only two agents who knew the new identity and whereabouts of Sarah Strict were Pete and myself.”

“Maybe your little witness decided to garner some attention by leaking the information herself.”

“After ten years of living a quiet anonymous life? That’s what she’d always wanted, Captain. I don’t think she’d trade that in for a little media attention.”

Davis pulled out a cigar and clamped it between his teeth. He’d promised his wife to quit smoking them years before, but he still liked to chew on the ends while thinking through a problem. “You’re sure she didn’t have any contact with anyone in the Family?”

Frank handed him the file photos of Katie taken the day she walked into the police station to give information regarding the bombing. “She has no love for anyone there. The Family and Strict are responsible for all those scars.”

“Shit.” Captain Davis closed the file, shaking his head, and handed the folder to Castello.

“Who knew you were extracting her from the hospital?”

“Katie and myself.”

“And you haven’t heard from her since?”

“Not a word.”

“Dammit, that ties our hands. We’ll have to approach this on a need-to-know basis. You pick the people you need to help you. They’ll be told we’re doing our own investigation into Pete’s death. You’ll head the task force. I know I should put you on desk duty since he was your old partner, except in this case you’ll be the only one knowing we’re also looking for your missing witness.”

Castello nodded. Relief surged through him. He’d been afraid he’d be sidelined for the remainder of the investigation. “What about the FBI? They’re not going to like us stepping on their toes.”

“Screw the Feds. This was our man. We’re not going to be their water boys while they play first string quarterback.” Davis took the cigar out of his mouth and laid it on the glass ashtray. “You look like shit. After you set the task force in motion, grab a few z’s.”

“I’m okay, Captain—”

Davis held up a hand. “Save it. Nothing we do in the next hour is going to lose us Pete’s killer, and your witness has been gone thirty-six hours. If she’s hiding, she won’t mind you getting a nap. If she’s dead, well, she still won’t mind.”

Castello nodded and gathered his files. He knew Katie was still alive. But maybe the captain was right. He’d function better if he wasn’t exhausted.

Damn.
He was going to have to break the news about Pete to Leslie.

As a rookie agent, he’d partnered with Pete. Pete’s secretary, who had been with him for nearly fifteen years at the time, took him under her wing as much as Pete had. Three years ago, she’d been killed in a car accident. Leslie Bell had come up from the secretarial pool to be the interim secretary for the pair. Despite her efficiency and calm demeanor, Pete couldn’t adjust to the loss of his first assistant in such a tragic way. Saying,
“You never know when your time will be called,”
he’d retired to enjoy the rest of his life, never knowing how prophetic his words were.

At his office door Castello stopped and took a deep breath before opening it. Inside, Leslie sat, smiling and talking on the phone.

“Leslie, I need to speak to you in my office,” he said as he passed by her desk.

A few minutes later, she took her seat across from him, her notepad in hand.

“Did I interrupt something important on the phone?” He ought to just tell her and get it over with. But he just couldn’t.

She smiled. “No, sir. Just talking with an old friend on my break.”

Good. A friend might be able to ease the shock of what he was about to tell her.

“Leslie,” he started, then swallowed.

“Yes, sir?” She had an expectant look on her face.

Shit.
This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

He swallowed again. “Leslie, I have some bad news.” He gripped his pen tight between his two hands. “Pete Halloran is dead.”

“Oh, no!” Her hand flew to her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. “How?”

Castello walked around the desk, leaning one hip on the edge. He took her hand in his. “I found him at his cabin last night.”

“Was it his heart?”

He shook his head. “Pete was murdered.”

She gasped and the color drained from her face. “Why? Why would someone want to kill Mr. Halloran? He’s been retired for nearly three years.”

Castello poured her a glass of water from the carafe she kept on his desk and handed it to her. He knew the news would hit the young woman hard, even though she’d only worked with Pete for a few months. She was tender-hearted that way.

In the twelve years he’d been with the Marshals he’d never been very good at breaking bad news to family members. That had always been Pete’s area.

“We think it may be related to an old case of ours.” He patted her hand once more. He didn’t want to tell her the rest, but it would go down better coming from him than the rumor mill. “Leslie, there’s something you need to know. Pete wasn’t just murdered.”

“He wasn’t?” If possible, she went even paler.

“Someone wanted information from him. They tortured Pete to get it.”

“Oh dear God.” She gulped the water then set the glass on the desk with shaky fingers.

Castello took her hand in his once more. “I’m going to need your help finding out who did this to him, but if it’s going to be too hard, I’ll request a different secretary for this case.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Really.”

“You’re sure?”

Some color returned to her face. “Yes. I want to help catch who did this.”

Castello smiled. “I knew I could count on you.. I’m forming a task force to spearhead our investigation.” Assured his secretary wouldn’t fall apart on him, he returned to his seat. He wrote a list of names and handed it to her. “Have these people meet with me at one this afternoon. Tell Bob Crestview to contact the FBI and get what he can from them. He’ll be our contact with the bureau.”

“Where will you be?”

“In my office. The captain ordered me to sleep. I’m counting on you and Dave to organize the information for everyone before the meeting.”

She started to leave.

“Oh, Leslie?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Were there any messages for me?”

“A few, sir. I’ll have them on your desk before the meeting.”

“Any from a woman?” He doubted Katie had contacted him, but right now he could use a break in this case.

Leslie shook her head. “No, sir. Not by phone or e-mail.”

He nodded, then reached in his top drawer for his antacids. At thirty-four he’d developed an ulcer that spoke to him when things were going bad. Right now it was sending him SOS signals even the East Coast Naval stations could receive.

For a minute he stared out his office window at the gray sky. Soft fat flakes of early winter snow fell past. Then gruesome images of Pete hanging in his garage filled his mind. Willing them gone, he pinched the bridge of his nose tight, and closed his eyes.

Damn, he hoped Katie had found a safe place to hide. He didn’t want to find her in the same shape as Pete.

* * * * *

The gnawing pain in her stomach woke Katie. Slowly she sat up on the couch in the darkened sun room. Dogs scooted out from under her feet. They sat watching her expectantly, their stub tails twitching side to side.

“You guys hungry, too?” The dogs pranced around in circles when she stood. “Or is it Mother Nature calling you?”

With a smile at their bouncing desire, she let them outside then watched them run and frolic in the new-fallen snow.

How long had she slept? The sun was low in the sky, and the ground outside the French doors lay covered with an inch of snow. A chill ran through her.

A week ago, she would’ve been content to sit in the dark alone, contemplating the snow. She’d grown accustomed to isolation during the past decade. After living with the Family, she’d craved nothing more than peaceful solitude.

And now? Now her peaceful existence had literally been blown away by her past. She had no home, no family, no one to trust.

Except Matt.

The memory of his fingers and lips on her scars sent a shudder through her body. He’d seen her flawed body and hadn’t been repulsed. How could any man look at her and not think she was a monster?

She leaned her face against the cold windowpane. Memories flashed in her mind. Standing in the freezing cold rain for hours, dressed in only a tee-shirt and shorts. Strict’s face in front of hers, expressionless as she repeatedly recited gun specifications. Her mind skipped forward, to sitting bent over the bomb making table for hours, happily building her latest creation. Smiling to herself as she worked because she’d found a way to please Strict. No one had the ability to make his latest toys like she did. Then that fateful day when Billy was killed.

It’s your fault little girl. He died because of your mistakes.

With Strict’s voice echoing in her mind, she squeezed her eyes tight to dispel the images. Matt might not see her as a monster, but she knew the truth. She’d earned every one of those scars. The monster inside her needed the punishment.

The house’s quiet crept in around her. Rubbing her arms against the cold that filled her from the inside out, she wandered in search of Matt. The kitchen was empty, as well as the living room and office.

As she climbed the stairs her pulse quickened. She hurried through all the bedrooms. His bag lay in the middle of the floor, clothes hanging out of it.

Where was he?

Panic rose inside her as she ran down the stairs and jerked open the garage door. His truck was still parked there. He hadn’t left.

She stood, willing her heartbeat to slow. If he hadn’t left, where was he? Another surge of adrenaline hit her heart. Had someone found out where they were? Had something happened to him?

Then she heard a sound from below.

A slap against leather. A grunt.

She retrieved her gun from the table in the sunroom and followed the sound to the basement door. Opening it as quietly as possible, she eased her way down the stairs. The slaps continued. The grunts came in rhythm with them.

Had someone gotten in the house? Was he being tortured? God, she couldn’t stand another innocent person being hurt because of something she’d done.