Hunting April (21 page)

Of course, none of us really believed any sort of a response would be necessary all the way
up here in Mooseland, Maine. Rugakoff found us, used the tempest as convenient cover,
apparently torched the cabin as a diversion, stormed the lodge—all because of my naïve
stupidity. Wait until
that
comes out in the wash.

I was responsible for this disaster. I put everyone in danger. It was my responsibility to
fix the problem, and I did it. The sonofabitch is dead.

So yeah, Trooper Browning, I'm okay with it.

* * * * *

Daniel's anger radiated like the flames of a bonfire in a high wind, totally out of control. The State Police released him after he gave his statement, then he hitched a ride to town with MacBride. The two men didn't speak for the entire half hour, until Mac parked in front of police headquarters.

"Where's the nearest airport?" Daniel wasn't as much questioning as growling.

"There's a small regional airport about another hour and a half east of here. Not much more than a crop duster and a landing strip for Canadian geese. About three hours for a larger airport. Is that where you want to go?"

"Airport or car rental, whichever is closer or faster."

"Billy Bob's garage, right here in town, rents vehicles. Has some high-end stuff he keeps for special customers, but they're only for day trips and round-trip rentals, not one-way. The regional airport has sort of a shuttle service to the larger airport for automobile rentals."

"I don't much give a shit if I fly or bloody well drive, as long as I can get the hell out of here."

MacBride stretched his body as much as the interior of the truck would allow.

"You're wrong, y'know."

"MacBride, don't be a tosser. Steer clear of this."

"No problem. But you're still wrong."

Daniel pounded the dashboard, and coins jumped out of the change holder.

"Don't you get it? She went back to Garrett."

"Don't
you
get it, you bone-headed Limey? They called a truce, put up their lances so they could work together. I swear to God, you're about as thick as Maine hemlock. April could never
be
with Garrett. Due to some sort of temporary insanity she seems to be suffering,
you're
her man. At least you were. It's Glennon and
Abigail
, or did you miss the bus?
Jeez
, I don't even
live
at the lodge and I can read the score board."

Daniel stared at the sheriff. "Truce?"

"You are familiar with the term, t
ruce
? Treaty, cease fire, peace?"

"I bloody well know what truce means. And I'm not a bloody Limey."

"Whatever you are. Glennon and April called a truce so they could work together in peace and harmony while everyone tried to keep her safe and alive. So she and Glennon could quit raising hackles whenever they passed each other in close proximity.

At least, according to Abigail."

"Damn it to bleedin' hell."

"To say the least. I guess Glennon and April needed to sort out their priorities if she planned to stay in your bed." MacBride shook his head. "I assume there's a good reason Abigail knows about you and April and your bed. Maybe it's a female thing."

Daniel hit the dashboard again, not quite so hard. The coins only rattled. "Bugger all. And I accused April . . . . "

MacBride nodded. "Yep, you surely did that."

"Yank, you're not helping matters."

"Look, man up and go to her. You love her, don't you?"

Daniel shot MacBride a look. "What was that?"

The sheriff heaved a big sigh."Damn it all to hell, I don't get paid enough for this.

I'll break it down for you, hot shot. Simple words. Do . . . you . . . love . . . April? If not, just say the word, chief. She's a looker, for sure. The minute you tell me that you're out of the picture and she's up for grabs, that she's a free agent, I'd definitely like to take a crack at her."

Daniel's fist came around. He managed to pull his punch in time, when he saw the grin on MacBride's face. "You wanker."

"Just proving my point, boss. Are you stupid enough to let her get away? What's the plan?"

Daniel stepped out of the SUV, pulled his duffle bag from the back seat.
I can't
approach her like this
. "I'm knackered. I need a couple hours' sleep and a hot shower.

Direct me to the closest hotel, motel, or broom cupboard with a mattress. Then I need a vehicle, and I need to get back to the lodge."

MacBride gave a snappy salute. "
Yessir
, Mr. Army Ranger,
sir
."

"Yank, you're really annoying, did you know?"

"Without a doubt."

Sunday morning, early

Midnight had long since chimed and scooted on by. All law enforcement personnel had departed. The dead hit man had been tagged, bagged, and dragged away. The three remaining occupants collapsed in the great room, their stores of energy at the bottom end of the scale.

"Okay, so Valentino's identity has been checked and cross-checked. The body is definitely Rugakoff's. What I still don't understand," Abigail said, "is how he zeroed in on April's location. I know you guys wouldn't have left any sort of trail, and let's face it, we're in the middle of nowhere."

Glennon's head rested on Abigail's lap, his casted leg on the sofa. She stroked his hair, seemed oblivious to her actions.

April shifted in her seat.
Might as well come out with it now. They're gonna find out
sooner or later. Knowing this crew, they will no doubt figure it out sooner, rather than later
. She sighed heavily. "My bad."

Eyebrow raised, Abigail took a stab at it. "Fer chrissakes, April, how?"

"I found a box of burn phones in the com center, and . . . well . . . I thought it was safe to use one. I called my mom."

Glennon struggled to sit up, but Abigail cuffed the back of his head. "Stay put, buddy."

"Hey, that hurt." He rubbed the spot. "
Jeez,
April, what the hell were you thinking? We did everything possible to keep you
off
the radar."

"I thought the burn phone was untraceable. I called Mom. She went crazy, insisted on knowing my location. I made her promise not to tell anyone, not even my blabbermouth father. She's as good as her word, so I know she didn't rat me out."

Glennon considered that. "If you're certain that your mother didn't spill the beans, my bet would be either a voice-activated digital recorder, or an electronic ear, which is a high-powered listening device. Martone had your parents' landline bugged or had someone stationed within a few hundred yards of your folk's house. The burn phone
was
safe, but the house was somehow compromised. Being devious as he is, Martone probably had his West Coast guys hook into all the phone lines, or hide in the damned bushes. He sat tight until you called home—which he knew you would do, eventually—then you handed him everything he needed on a silver platter. Angelo probably had Valentino on speed dial, and that's how Rugakoff found you so quickly.

I'll get someone out to your folks' place to protect their communications from further disruption. Quietly."

He absently stroked Abigail's hand, then held it.

April fidgeted. "There's something else."

She had their undivided attention. Again. "When Rugakoff grabbed me, he demanded that I hand over Angelo's files. I don't have any files. Well, first, he wanted the files. Then, after he took out Daniel, he planned to hunt me down and kill me for sport, like some sort of game animal."

She hid her face in her hands. "I don't know what the hell he meant about a file.

We went through my stuff at Glennon's place, and found nothing. If the files are what Angelo wants, he'll come after me again. Which means you'll continue to be in the danger zone as well."

"Get your shoulder bag," Abigail said. "Let's have another look, shall we?"

After April dumped the contents of her handbag on the coffee table, she turned it inside out. Still nothing.

Abigail slid out from under Glennon's head and took up the bag. She began checking the fabric lining with her fingertips, bit by bit.

"I didn't put any papers there. I didn't take any files at all," April said.

Glennon pulled himself up into a sitting position, propped his casted leg on the coffee table."We already did that."

"Hush, you." Abigail's face scrunched up. "
Aha
."

She grasped something between thumb and forefinger, held it through the fabric lining. "Glennon, do you have a knife?"

She made a slice, held up a black and silver flash drive. "
Ta da!
It must have slipped under the lining through that small tear by the seam. See where the fabric is frayed?"

She spread the damaged threads apart and grinned. "With the ham-handed heavy approach that men have, I'm sure it was easy to miss without a woman's sensitive touch. Probably thought it was part of the leather interior seams."

"Damn, is there such a thing as a female chauvinist? You're an evil woman."

Glennon reached for his cane."I hate to move, but I think this requires the equipment in the com center."

"No, you
don't
move. I'll grab a laptop. Be right back." Abigail returned quickly with a wireless notebook. "This should do the trick."

Glennon placed the notebook on his lap. He plugged the flash drive into the USB

port, fiddled with keys for a few moments.

"There's some sort of encoding here. Give me a moment." He cursed. "No hope for it—I need to get up to the com center."

Upstairs, the two women tried not to hang over Glennon's shoulder. He plugged the flash drive into another system and his fingers flew over keys. He touched another screen. "We should be able to see what's on the drive right about—
now
."

Suddenly, color images rolled across the 65-inch plasma screen in the center of the wall.

"Oh, my fucking God." Abigail paled as her hand flew up to her mouth. "April, I'm so sorry . . . ."

April felt the blood drain from her face. She watched herself on the monitor, naked, her hands and feet tied to the bedposts, three nude swarthy men swarming over her like picnic ants, taking liberties with her unconscious body. A couple of quick shots of her face, her eyes blank, staring.

Angelo, his hand cruelly wrapped in her hair, had forced April to watch it on a two-by-three-inch digital video recorder screen. Now, on the giant plasma screen—

She stared at the images without really seeing them. Her voice reflected a total lack of emotion. "It took awhile for the guests to clear out after the engagement party, all people I didn't know. My parents were the last to leave. I was finally alone with Angelo. Roofies, I suspect, in the champagne—then this. It explained the bruises on my arms and legs that I couldn't remember getting. Angelo threatened to send the video to my folks if I refused to cooperate, if I didn't behave. He even implied that he could

"accidently" circulate it on the Internet."

Glennon went totally still. His muscles tensed until his jaw cracked. "Hon, why didn't you tell me?"

April caught the sharp look Abigail gave Glennon at the endearment.
Damn, she
really has it bad for Glennon
."I thought I could reach my folks before Angelo made good his threat. I thought I could manage damage control. Silly me."

"That guy needs to be as dead as Rugakoff." Abigail led April to the sofa, motioned for her to sit. "Really, really dead, and . . . ."

Glennon's voice broke in, unusually somber. "There's more."

* * * * *

No one could speak. No one could give voice, put words to the atrocities committed by Angelo Martone, digitally captured for his own enjoyment.

Glennon finally broke the silence."Did you know?"

Tears flowed freely down April's face, but no sobs were left. "Not this. I suspected he was seeing women on the side, but I thought I was his only target for abuse."
Those poor women—escorts, prostitutes, it shouldn't matter—they weren't expendable.

A dozen women brutalized. Four beautiful young women, looking no older than college age, horrifically ripped to bloody unconsciousness with Angelo's most vicious flogger. Raped, brutalized, sodomized with his unholy devices. Finally, strangled. Their screams, their pleas for mercy. Their voices would never fade from her memory.

Abigail pulled April into her arms, gave her a hug. "Sweetie, running away saved your life. Valentino killed for money. That asshole kills for pleasure. You may have been next on his list, if you hadn't escaped."

"That's not quite true." April's voice fell even lower, gravelly. "Valentino lived for the kill. He killed for pleasure, as well as money. He knew Daniel's name. He meant to take out Daniel to collect the bounty from Angelo, then turn me loose to hunt me in the woods. Angelo told the bastard that I liked to r-r-run, so Rugakoff's p-p-plan was for me to b-b-be . . . his next . . . prey."

Her body shivering, April hiccupped, her voice caught between a sob and a scream.

Abigail wrapped April in her arms "Cry, girlfriend, it's all right. Let it out."

And April did.

Sunday night—Monday morning

Sleep was definitely not gonna happen. Just to prove she was totally capable of torturing herself, April showered, pulled on a fresh little top and shorts, then crawled into Daniel's bed. She pulled one of the pillows onto her chest, wrapped her arms around it. Inhaled his fragrance, as if it were an addictive drug.
I suppose it is, really
.

That added nicely to the torment.

As far as April could tell, her list of assets had dwindled to naught. No lover. No home. No tears left. Martone lived, which meant she and her parents remained on his hit list. No freedom. And what she was planning to do on the morrow—technically, it was already tomorrow—wasn't exactly the sanest plan she'd ever concocted.

Giving up on the sleep thing at about three a.m., she left Daniel's bedroom, wrapped in one of his crisp white dress shirts.
A cup of hot herbal tea will work. Maybe
with something stronger added
. She pussyfooted out to the gallery, began to turn right to use the far stairway near Adam's room. Odd noises caught her attention. Voices, maybe?