Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (52 page)

SEVENTEEN

A
ngelina pulled down the visor to block the glare from the setting sun as they crossed the Ben Franklin Bridge. It wouldn't be long now. She tapped her foot against the floor mat and twisted her hands together.

“Relax. We're in the homestretch now.” Selma threw her a grin before turning her attention back to the road. “I'm proud of you. You managed to spend the entire day in Dylan's company and didn't give a hint to what we'd planned.”

Angelina's stomach clenched. Yeah, she seemed to be good at pulling the wool over Dylan's eyes because he trusted her. He'd soon find out once again she couldn't be trusted. Selma thought he'd get over this newest betrayal. She wished she could be as sure. Would Dylan be able to forgive her for two deceptions? Would he ever be able to trust her again?

They pulled onto the corner of Fourth Street and Market. Selma eased into a parking spot close to the front door.

“What about security cameras? Won't someone see us?” Angelina peered out the window to see if she could spot a camera.

“Try to keep your head down and your face turned away from the camera but don't act weird or do anything to draw attention to yourself. Just get out of the car and walk briskly but normally toward the front door. We're going to look just like any of the other judges or lawyers that show up on a weekend. No one will have a reason to take a second look at the footage.”

Angelina did as she was told. Head down. Face turned away. Brisk but normal gait. Up the seven steps, past the white pillars and straight up to the brass-framed glass doors. Piece of cake. Now what?

Selma finished speaking to someone on her cell phone, slid it back into her purse and threw another smile her way.

Angelina wasn't used to this woman smiling—at her or anyone else—and she found it almost disturbing. That thought made her want to laugh out loud.

The door opened. Selma gestured her inside and brought up the rear.

Angelina had only gone a couple of feet when she came to an abrupt stop. “Donna?” Angelina blinked a couple of times. She hadn't expected to see the other marshal.

“Bet you a cup of coffee you didn't expect to see me.” Donna grinned.

“Not taking that bet. You'd win. Besides, you know I don't gamble.”

“Ahh, Angelina, you don't know what you're missing. Nothing feels better than winning.” Donna ushered her through the building.

“There's other ways to win at things than placing bets. I bet it doesn't feel good when you lose some of those bets.”

“Truer words never spoken.” Donna opened an office door, stood aside and let both women enter.

The three of them sat at the table in the middle of the room.

“Any updates?” Selma asked.

“No. The boss is going crazy trying to find Dylan and his missing witness. He's called every available marshal in on it. I had to plead the flu.” She feigned a cough and grinned. “The cops are picking up their snitches to find out if anyone has heard anything on the street about Dylan and, of course, everyone and their uncle is searching for Baroni's missing daughter.”

Angelina blanched at the mention of her father's name. She hadn't seen him in over three years and couldn't keep herself from asking, “How is my dad?”

Selma's eyes darted her way. “Don't you go soft and start worrying about Daddy Dearest. He deserves everything and more that is coming his way. If your conscience starts nagging you, I suggest you meditate on the things you and Maria liked to do together.”

“Frankie killed Maria.” Angelina spat the words, mad at Selma for discounting her feelings for her father.

Selma leaned across the table. “That's right, princess. And why did he? Oh, yes, I remember. He wanted to kill you so Daddy Dearest wouldn't have to go to trial and Maria got in the way.”

Donna placed a comforting hand on Angelina's shoulder. “Don't mind, Selma. She gets cranky when the pressure's up.”

“Really?” Angelina folded her arms across her chest and glared at Selma. “Could have fooled me. I thought cranky was her normal disposition.”

Donna threw her head back and laughed. “She got you good, Selma. I don't think I've ever seen a witness match you barb for barb before.”

Selma frowned at Angelina but turned her attention to more pressing matters. “Thanks again, Donna, for agreeing to help out. You didn't tell the boss, did you?”

“No. I didn't tell anyone. Don't worry.” Donna shifted in her seat to make better eye contact with Selma. “How about you? Do you have any idea who fed the safe house location to Frankie Malone?”

Selma shook her head. “One of Frankie's crew confirmed it was an inside job but couldn't give any of the particulars.”

“I hope you're wrong. It turns my stomach to think one of our colleagues, possibly our boss, would put us in danger.”

“We'll find out soon enough.” Selma gestured at Angelina. “Mafia Princess testifies in the morning. Case closed. Then, we investigate our leak.”

Donna nodded. “Let's hope it's no one we know.”

Selma crossed to the door. “I'm going upstairs. I set up a meet with the US Attorney. He's aware of what's been going on and that we've brought the witness in. He's waiting for me. I'll be back in a bit. Keep an eye on her.”

“Will do.”

Selma disappeared down the hall.

“I'm glad you're watching me and not Selma. I've had about all of her I can take for a while.”

Donna laughed. “She's not too bad. She's married to her job and sometimes that makes her a little...intense.”

“Cranky,” Angelina said at the same time.

Both women laughed.

“I could use a bathroom break,” Angelina said.

“Sure thing. Come with me.”

Idle conversation flowed easily between them. Angelina stood at the sink washing her hands when she looked up and caught Donna's reflection standing directly behind her. “I'll be done in just a minute.” She held her hands beneath an air dryer. She hated those things. Give her a good old-fashioned paper towel.

“What now?” She turned. The smile slipped from her face. Donna held a gun pointed straight at her stomach.

* * *

Dylan's head pounded as if someone literally was hitting him with a baseball bat in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. He kept his eyes closed, held the sides of his head and took a deep breath.

Pain, pain go away. Come again another day.

Even his silly mental singsong couldn't stop the hurt and he groaned aloud.

He breathed in deeply and tried to stay perfectly still.

What was going on? Why did his head hurt like this?

He tried to force his thoughts into focus but they wouldn't obey.

Leaning forward, he bowed his head, clenched his hands together between his knees and waited. Any minute now the fog would lift and he'd actually have a coherent thought.

He tried to open his eyes. At first, they didn't want to listen to him, but gradually he got in one good blink and then another.

Bright daylight poured into the room and momentarily blinded him. All he wanted to do was close his eyes against the light but he didn't. He glanced around.

He was in a cabin. Bear's cabin.

His head spun and his stomach roiled.
What's going on? Why am I so foggy? What's happened to me?
He felt as if he'd been drugged.

Drugged? That thought made him sit up and pay attention.

The cabin! Angelina!

He threw a glance around the room and saw no one. He started to rise and a wave of pain and nausea made him collapse back into the chair.

Dear Heavenly Father, help me, please.

As each second passed, his thoughts became less jumbled and the events of the day streamed back.

Angelina had fixed him lunch. She'd been quiet and nervous but Dylan hadn't made much out of it. She would be testifying against her father tomorrow. It made perfect sense that she be distracted and probably a bit scared.

Selma.

That's right. She'd shown up last night and was going to help Dylan get Angelina to the courthouse in the morning. Selma had been in the bedroom packing some last-minute things because they'd decided to get a head start and leave after dinner. They had planned to drive to Camden and hole up in a motel nearby.

Dylan had wished they'd had more than the two of them for that task. If he had his way, he'd have an entire task force—FBI, marshals, police—helping tomorrow. But without knowing the identity of the mole, they had no choice but to keep things between themselves.

Where were Selma and Angelina, anyway?

“Selma?”

Dylan stood up. The room spun and he felt light-headed. He grabbed the arm of the chair to steady himself. When the vertigo passed, he crossed to the bedroom.

“Angelina?”

He paused outside the closed bedroom door, listened, then rapped lightly. “Hello? Are you girls decent? I'm coming in.” He opened the door. The room was empty.

He spun around. The place wasn't that big. Where were they? He could see the unoccupied main room and kitchen from where he stood. He quickly crossed to the bathroom and listened. Silence. He opened the door. Empty. He sprang to the second bedroom and flung open the door without pausing to knock. This one empty, too.

What had happened? Where were they? Why was he having such a difficult time remembering? What was the last thing he did remember?

Selma had handed him a cup of coffee and went into the bedroom. Angelina had heated him a bowl of soup. He remembered her hands shook and the soup sloshed over the rim of the bowl when she'd set it down.

“Look what I've done. I'm so sorry.” She'd rushed into the kitchen and come back with a dish towel.

He'd stilled her hand as she'd tried to sop up the spilt liquid. “It's okay. It's only soup.” He'd smiled but when she looked at him his smile only seemed to make things worse. She became antsy and couldn't seem to make eye contact with him.

“Angelina?” He'd held her wrist until he had her attention. He wasn't sure but he'd thought her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Today is just another day. Nothing to worry about. And tomorrow will be over before you know it. You don't have to be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid.” She pulled her wrist out of his grasp.

“I'll be by your side every step of the way. No one is going to hurt you.” He kept his voice steady, calm, offering her assurances he didn't feel himself.

She nodded and glanced away.

“Dylan, leave the girl alone.” Selma stood in the bedroom doorway. “If she's a little nervous, I'd say that's normal given the circumstances but she'll be fine.” Selma gestured to his mug. “Finish your coffee. Angelina, come help me in the bedroom.”

Angelina had scampered in Selma's direction. Dylan had finished his coffee, ate a little of the soup and then...

He had been drugged!

The realization hit him in the solar plexus. That was why he felt so groggy, why he couldn't remember, why he was so unfocused.

Had Selma drugged him? Or worse, had Angelina?

Dylan moved to the front door as quickly as the pain in his head and chest allowed. Selma's car was missing. The women were gone.

Who was the bad guy here? Had Angelina drugged him, got the drop on Selma and somehow forced her to drive her out of here?

Or was Selma the mole?

And if Selma was the mole, what was she going to do with Angelina?

He reached for his keys and saw the empty peg.

His stomach clenched. A deep, intense pain shot through his heart, a pain that had nothing to do with his physical injuries. He'd promised to keep Angelina safe. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to her.

He glanced at his watch. He hadn't been unconscious long. They had maybe an hour head start on him.

Keys. Keys. Where are the keys?

Frantically he moved throughout the cabin tossing cushions, looking under furniture. He found them wrapped in a note lying on Angelina's bed.

His fingers trembled when he opened the letter.

XOXOXO.

His breath caught in his throat. Without another moment's hesitation, he turned and raced to his car.

EIGHTEEN

“D
onna? Why are you pointing your gun at me?” Angelina raised her hands. The sink pressed hard against her back. Her eyes darted back and forth. She was trapped with nowhere to go.

“Don't make another sound. Understand?”

Angelina nodded.

“Do what you're told and you won't get hurt.” Without lowering her weapon, Donna backed up to the bathroom door, cracked it slightly and checked outside. “Okay, here's the plan. Lower your hands.”

Angelina complied.

“Quietly and calmly, the two of us are going to walk right out the front door.”

“I don't understand. What's going on?”

Donna ignored her question. Instead she pressed her gun into Angelina's side, hard. “Shut up. If you want to stay alive, do exactly what I say. Now move. Don't try to run. Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself.” She shoved her into the hall.

“Why are you doing this?” Angelina asked as they moved toward the exit.

“What did I say? Didn't I tell you to be quiet?” Donna's breath fanned her ear and the poke with the gun became painful. “I don't want to kill you. Believe me, I don't. But I will if I have to.”

The blood drained from Angelina's face leaving her light-headed. Her legs quivered, threatening to dump her in a heap on the floor. She couldn't believe this was happening. What was Donna doing? She threw a glance over her shoulder. Where was Selma? She'd sure be glad to see Miss Cranky right about now.

“Move.” Another shove, another painful dig into her side.

Within seconds, they were outside. The sun had set long ago and only the outside lights illuminated the darkness.

“Head down. My car's to the left. Move it.”

Angelina grabbed the railing to keep from stumbling down the steps as Donna pushed her in the direction she wanted her to go. If she buried that gun any deeper in her side, she was afraid it would accidentally go off.

They reached the car without incident, passing no one going in or out. But it was Sunday evening. Did she really think she'd be able to flag down help? Angelina dared one more glance over her shoulder. Where was Selma when she needed her? Donna fastened Angelina's right wrist to the door handle with a zip tie.

So much for any thoughts of taking her chances and jumping out.

It wasn't until they hit the Atlantic City Expressway that Angelina dared to speak again.

“Please, Donna. Tell me what's going on. Where are we going?”

Donna threw a hurried glance in her direction, then looked back at the road. “You'll find out soon enough. Just be quiet.”

“Are you taking me to another safe house? Does Selma know what you're doing? Does Dylan?”

Donna laughed mirthlessly. “Another safe house? I guess you could call it that. Once I get you to where we're going both of us are going to be safe.”

A sense of foreboding seeped through Angelina. She knew without asking. Donna was the mole. Donna was on her father's payroll. Donna was going to kill her and there was not a thing she could do about it.

They traveled several more miles before Angelina dared to speak again. She kept it short and to the point but she really wanted to know.

“Why?”

Donna glanced her way, fear and maybe even a little guilt evident in her expression. “Why does anybody do anything in this world? Money.”

That surprised her. She'd spent several days in Donna's company. She'd seemed like a dedicated federal marshal and, truthfully, a fun, pleasant individual she could see herself liking in a totally different social situation. There had to be more to the story.

They'd left the expressway and were driving through less-than-safe neighborhoods. Where was Donna taking her? She didn't have to wait long to find out. The lights from the casinos and the boardwalk loomed straight ahead.

Donna pulled over on one of the side streets, came around the car and opened the door. Slicing off the zip tie. “Don't try anything.” Donna took a step back and gestured with her gun. “Get out.”

“Where are we going?” Angelina stepped out of the vehicle.

“Up on the boardwalk. Go.”

Angelina's hurried glance up and down the street was fruitless. The street was deserted. Her only hope was the boardwalk. People would be coming in and out of the casinos. Even at this hour people would be strolling by, maybe even a patrol officer. And it would be better lit than this back street. Yeah, her only hope was the boardwalk. She didn't need any further encouragement to get there as quickly as she could.

The fresh scent of salt water hit her nostrils almost as soon as her feet hit the wooden walk. The sounds of people talking, laughing, even the tinkling rolls of slot machines hit the air as doors to nearby casinos opened and closed. The ocean breeze lifted several wisps of her hair.

Angelina had always loved the Atlantic City boardwalk and beach. She supposed if she had to choose a place to die it was as good as any. She just wished she could find a way to make that happen decades from now instead of minutes.

Donna grabbed her arm at the elbow and pulled her up short.

Angelina looked her right in the eyes. “What now?”

Donna pointed. “Down the steps and to the left.”

Angelina took a second to orient herself and her stomach clenched. Tears burned the back of her eyes. She knew where she was. She'd been in this exact spot less than a week ago. Straight ahead at water's edge she'd lowered Maria's body to the sand, dead from a shot fired from beneath the pier on their left. How ironic that her final resting place would be in the same place.

Sand filled her shoes and weighted her feet as they made their way across the beach into the darkness beneath the pier. When they reached their destination, Angelina pulled her arm away and turned to face her executioner.

“Okay. I'm here. You get to kill me without any witnesses. But at least you can answer a couple questions for me before you do. You owe me that.”

Donna's chuckle held no humor. “I don't owe you anything. But it never hurts to ask.”

Angelina's eyes couldn't pull themselves away from the barrel of the gun pointed at her.

“You're the mole, aren't you? You're on my father's payroll.”

“See. I told Selma you were smarter than she gave you credit for.”

“How much money is he paying you?”

“What is it to you?”

Angelina shrugged. “I'm curious. How much is his daughter's death worth? And how high a price tag did he have to pay to twist you from an honorable federal marshal to a low-life criminal like him?”

Donna winced at that latter statement. Apparently her marshal status had been more difficult for her to forfeit than Angelina had suspected.

“Remember that question you asked me earlier?”

Angelina arched a brow in question.

“When we talked about betting... I told you it felt wonderful to win. I didn't tell you how horrible it feels to lose. I got in over my head in gambling debts. I made the mistake of trying to raise the money to pay those debts by hitting the blackjack tables. I lost.”

Donna's gaze darted away for a moment and she could have sworn she saw regret and shame flash across the marshal's face.

“What happened next was straight out of an old movie.” Donna harrumphed. “Your father made me an offer I couldn't refuse. All gambling debts forgiven. Clean slate.” Donna shrugged. “Like I said, I couldn't walk away.”

Angelina glanced to her left. Her eyes searching the stretch of beach for the spot Maria had been shot but she couldn't see it in the darkness. She listened to the crashing of the waves. Felt the spray of cold water against her body as waves hit the pilings under the pier. She offered up a silent prayer.

I'm not afraid, Lord. I know You are with me. I pray if this is Your will that You carry me home in Your blessed arms and please, Lord, don't let Dylan carry any guilt for any of this. Please.

She turned her attention back to Donna. “Why did you bring me here? Poetic justice? Were you the one who shot Maria a week ago from this very spot?”

“All of a sudden you're a chatty one, aren't you? Think I'm going to stand here all night talking and answering endless questions? I'm not.”

Tears flowed down Angelina's face. “Did you kill Maria? Why? If I was the target why didn't you just shoot me? You're killing me now. Why did you waste Maria's life?”

“No, I didn't kill Maria. Frankie Malone did that all on his own. Your father didn't sanction that hit.” She took a step closer. “Enough talking. Shut up and start walking.” She gestured with her gun. “Over there.”

Angelina, more confused than ever, took a few steps in the direction Donna indicated, then came up short when she saw a shadow step out from behind one of the pilings. She stared hard into the darkness and the tears streamed harder down her face.

“Dad?” Her voice, a mere whisper, escaped on the ocean air. She wasn't even sure he'd heard her.

“Angelina.” Her father stepped closer. He held a weapon in his right hand, his arm at his side, the weapon pointed at the sand.

She locked her gaze with his and straightened her shoulders. “If you're going to kill me, do it. Get it over with.”

He came within three yards of her and the moonlight illuminated his features. “Kill you?” He lifted both hands out to the side in a pleading motion. “How could you believe I would kill you? You are my daughter, my flesh and blood. I could never hurt you.”

She hadn't expected that answer. Confusion raced through her mind, along with guilt, anger, longing and finally determination. Why couldn't he have been a normal father, a decent guy? She wanted to run to him, wrap her arms around his waist, listen to the timbre of his voice in her ear like she'd heard a million times before when he'd comforted her on a stormy night or held her when teaching her to dance for her school prom. Her heart ached. She loved her father. She always would. But she hated what he'd done, who he'd become. She offered a quick prayer for her father's soul and reminded herself that God, not her, would be his judge.

“It seems to me you went to a lot of trouble and expense to bring me here if you aren't intending to kill me. So why am I here?”

“I can't let you testify tomorrow. You know that.”

She saw the hardened glint in his eyes, heard the steel in his voice, and a slither of fear crept up her spine.

“You killed our neighbor, Mr. Cartwright. I saw you.”

“Yes, I did. Killing him brought me great pleasure and I would do it again, gladly.”

Angelina shook her head. “Why, Dad? Mr. Cartwright was a nice man, minded his own business, kept to himself. He was nice to me, too. Always stopped to talk to me if he saw me in the yard. He'd smuggle me pieces of candy through the fence. What could he have done to deserve to die?”

“He had an affair with your mother and was solely responsible for her death.”

Angelina gasped. “That's not true. That can't be true. You told me my mother died of pneumonia when I was two.”

“Your mother died because I killed her. No one cheats on me.”

“No! That can't be true!” Horror raced through her veins.

“It took me years to prove that Cartwright was the man your mother got involved with but I finally got the proof. When I did, I took great delight in killing him. I only wish I could have killed him more than once.”

“What kind of monster are you?”

“Grow up, Angelina. How do you think I reached the heights I did? Because I do not let anyone betray me.” Her father sighed. “My only regret was that you saw it. You'd left for the evening. Why did you come back?”

“I'd forgotten something in my room. I grabbed it and started to leave when I remembered that I... I...”

“What?” Her father cocked his head to the side and looked at her.

“I remembered I hadn't kissed you goodbye, so I searched the house looking for you...” Her voice trailed off. Painful memories seized her thoughts. She'd been searching for him for a kiss.

“Oh, Dad.” Her voice held all the pain of her heart being torn apart. She met his gaze. “You better kill me, too, because I am going to testify tomorrow.”

“You ungrateful little snot. I never heard you complain about the lifestyle you led. Only now are you growing a conscience about the way I earned my money to do it.”

“You kill people, Dad. Living, breathing, decent people! Mr. Cartwright isn't the only person who has died because of you. Maria is dead. Dylan and Bear almost died. And all the others, Dad, in your so-called business of extortion, money laundering, drugs. How many others have died at your hand or at your command? I can't believe you even killed my mother!” A sob clenched her throat.

“I won't let you testify.” He tried to reason with her. “You will be killing me.
Me!
Is that what you want, Angelina? To kill your own father? If you testify they will find me guilty. You might as well stick that needle in my arm yourself!”

Despair like she'd never known washed over every inch of her. Sobs came with such force they stole her breath. Still, she stood her ground. “I can't let you get away with what you've done. I have to stop you from the things you would still do.”

The anger in his voice was colder than ice and stronger than steel. “Oh, I'm not going to kill you Angelina. But I'm afraid that there may be days ahead when you'll wish I had.”

She shot him a questioning look.

“I'm going to send you out of the country. You will be under my protection for the rest of your life. You will have no friends. No family. No husband. No children. No future. But you will be alive...and so will I.”

Angelina shook her head and stared at him in disbelief.

“You can't do that.” Astonishment and hurt laced her words.

“Watch me.”